Forging Divinity by Andrew Rowe Read Free Book Online

blackout from casting it. Any memories the spells had stolen in her past had been subtle.
    Lydia’s spell had always presented her with text; that was no surprise. Books and scrolls were her greatest friends and the only loyal ones. She had never before been betrayed with mere fragments of an answer.
    Her legs felt weak, but she managed to wobble to her feet. What in the resh was that? More defensive sorcery, like what Veruden mentioned?
    She did not dismiss that possibility entirely, but she shoved it aside in favor of other options. Perhaps the spell failed, or I cast it improperly. Or, she considered with some hesitation, perhaps the weapon is so powerful I can’t even understand what I just experienced.
    The last option she considered only for the sake of completeness; assuming the weapon’s dominion marks were beyond her comprehension would be unproductive.
    More likely , she continued to consider, I came in contact with multiple dominions at once. The spell is made to identify a single dominion. If the sword carries several dominion marks – as in legends – perhaps my spell was simply unable to translate that information. I may need to develop a new spell to try to analyze this further.
    Lydia nodded, finding that explanation acceptable for the moment, and returned to her focus on a completely different series of problems.
    The sorceress returned the weapon to its position on the table with some reluctance, and then used the table to support her weight. She was still feeling dizzy, which was not a good sign.
    Focusing as best she could, Lydia examined the weapon. At a glance, the weapon fit the description she had always heard – a hilt long enough for two hands to fit comfortably, a long and elegant blade, and a metal that shined with greater luster than any silver she had ever before witnessed. She carefully lifted the sword a few inches, trying to peer inside the scabbard to see if she could get a look at the runes that should have been visible on the surface, but the sheath was flush against the blade.
    The scabbard itself was an oddity; it was wrapped in white leather (a color used to demonstrate affluence), but with metal plating along the sides and covering the entire tip. It struck a beautiful image, but so much metal on a scabbard had to be impractical. Not that the god of swords would have been inconvenienced much by such a thing, she mused, but he was supposed to be a pragmatic deity.
    That’s the first thing I’ve noted that’s out-of-place , she considered. And, now that I think about it, the scabbard isn’t in Aendaryn’s colors. He wears silver, black, and blue. This is white and...iron, I suppose.
    It was not much evidence of the sword being a fake, but little else provided her with a clue.
    Lifting the weapon again, she moved into a combat stance. Raising the weapon into position felt easy, fluid – even with the scabbard on the weapon. The weight of the sword was negligible. She could feel it, but the weight only seemed to be enough to remind her that the weapon was in her hand. The blade felt heavier from the presence of the scabbard, but only slightly.
    I could take it , Lydia considered. I could do more experiments in my room, or just flee the city with it entirely. If this really is the Sae’kes, it could change everything in Velthryn in an instant. If I could learn how the marks work, it could usher in a new era for sorcery. And even if I failed to do that, the mere presence of the sword could save numerous lives. If stories of the weapon’s power are true, a proper wielder could turn aside entire armies.
    She dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it came to her. She could get permission to take the sword to her chambers later – just walking off with it now would be a needless complication.
    Attempting to get back to Velthryn with the sword would be considerably more difficult. The weapon’s absence would be noticed within hours. With Morella’s detection spells and Veruden’s