Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 by The Wizard Lord (v1.1) Read Free Book Online Page A

hand, as if it had been made for him, or as if he had used it every
day for a season. He turned his wrist and the blade flashed upward like a
startled bird— still cold, but now alive and eager.
    "It's so light!"
he exclaimed.
    "It's a good
sword," the Swordsman replied. "It feels lighter than it is."
    Breaker essayed a
few cautious moves with the sword, turning it this way and that, as the
Swordsman watched. Breaker glanced at the older man, who gestured for him to
continue.
    Still hesitant,
Breaker took a few swings at an imaginary foe, and could sense the sword's
chill pleasure in being used this way. He closed both hands on the hilt for a
long swooping chop at the air.
    He was vaguely aware
as he did that the Swordsman was moving away. The traveler bent down as Breaker
clove the air with a wild swing. ...
    And then the
Swordsman was in front of him, a long willow twig in hand, and the stick was
thrusting toward Breaker's eyes. Instinctively he swung the sword around,
chopping at the green stick, but somehow the twig moved around his blade and
still came at him, as if it had writhed like a snake.
    And
then the tip of it touched the tip of his nose and pulled away, and he stepped
back, trying to gather hi s wits. The sword in his hand wanted him to do something, but he did not
know how to respond.
    The willow twig
slashed at the back of his hand, a stinging blow, but Breaker held on to the
sword and twisted it around to face this attack.
    "Oh,
excellent!" the Swordsman said, stepping back and raising his stick to
vertical. "You didn't drop it, you didn't try to use your empty hand—for a
barley farmer who never held a sword before, nor saw anyone wield one, that was excellent!"
    "What?"
Breaker said, feeling very stupid. The weapon he held seemed suddenly ordinary,
just another metal tool.
    "My
dear lad, you do have a swordsman's instincts. You have a natural talent. The
wizards' ler who
guided me to you have served us both well."
    "I don't
understand."
    "I am telling you, my boy," the Swordsman said patiently, "that you have
the inborn ability you need. You have the instincts to work with the sword's ler. With my training and the necessary magic, by spring you will be the world's greatest swordsman—and / can go ho me and live out my
life in peace!"
    Breaker looked at
the Swordsman, then down at the sword in his hand. "Oh," he said.
    It had never really
occurred to him that he might not have the ability. What he had doubted was
whether he truly wanted to be one of the Chosen.
    And
he still wasn't entirely certain of that, but at this point, after being told
that he was indeed chosen by ler and not simply a random volunteer, he was not
about to admit it.

[4]

      An hour later Breaker was exhausted, sweating
despite the coolness of the air, and very unsure of his own abilities, despite
the old man's praise. The Swordsman had taken the sword from his hand—without
asking, and without Breaker intentionally releasing it—and had then sheathed
the blade and given the youth a wil low twig, so that they were evenly matched.
    The
twig's ler was
warm and green and soft, completely unlike the sword's, but still, it fit his
hand and was about the right length.
    The old man had then
demonstrated that he could do things with his hands and a willow stick that
Breaker would never have thought possible. He could move it with a degree of
speed and precision more reminiscent of Harp's hands plucking strings in one of
her fastest reels than of anything else Breaker could think of; he could put
the point on any portion of Breaker's body in seconds, no matter how Breaker
might dodge or twist or struggle, or how fiercely he might wave his own willow
twig about trying to ward off the touch.
    An
hour of waving a willow twig left Breaker shaken and shivering, as tired as if
he had been hauling heavy loads uphill.
    And
at the end of it the Swordsman looked at him, nodded, and said, "That was
good. Be here again tomorrow, and we'll work on it