Keeper of the Eye (The Eye of the Sword Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

was a draw.” Michael had passed on a chance to defeat General Baldwin. Enhanced by Hothfyre, it hadn’t been a fair match, and he had no interest in beating the man with his own sword.
    “Horse dung! I’m not buying a word of it.” Garen pointed an accusing finger at him. “You just want to see if I’ll ask him. Then the two of you will have a good laugh over it. No thank you.”
    Michael shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself.”
    Garen looked to the sky. Midmorning had given way to early afternoon. “I’d better get back and finish my chores before Dad sends Stren to drag me back by my ear.”
    “Too late,” a familiar, deep voice resonated behind them.
    Garen and Michael turned and saw Stren standing at the fringes of the clearing. With muscles like corded rope, he was easily one of the largest men in the garrison. His bald head and steel grey eyes added intimidation to his size. As immovable as a mountain yet quick as a whip, Stren had earned his rank as second in command. He had the scars to prove it and a story to go along with each one. Garen and Michael had grown up hearing his stories and often caught him adding liberally to them. Few dared to give the man a hard time, but they often did, even though Stren usually managed to get the last laugh.
    Garen held up his hands. “I was just on my way back, Stren
    “Then we can go together.” He shot Garen a stern look. “I saw you leaving with your chores halfway done. Figured you two were out getting into mischief. Training classes kept me tied up for a while, though.”
    Stren scanned the area, his eyes missing nothing. “A person can hone his skills in different ways out here. I see why you chose to practice here.”
    Lately, they had practiced out in the woods more often than not for reasons other than what Stren saw. Michael had grown uncomfortable with everyone stopping to watch him spar with Garen. And he had been approached far too many times about joining the army. Garen did not understand Michael’s discomfort but agreed to meet outside the garrison stating he didn’t want anything affecting his friend’s concentration.
    “It does have its good points,” Garen replied with a hint of pride. He had, after all, found this particular spot.
    “That it does,” Stren mused, looking around one last time. “Michael, General Baldwin is looking forward to a rematch. I think he’d love to spar here. Perhaps soon? Equal footing this time though. No Hothfyre. Just plain practice swords.”
    Garen’s jaw dropped.
    A grin spread across Michael’s face. “Perhaps,” he replied. He was happy to spar the general on equal footing and he could not resist egging Garen a little more.
    “Well then,” Stren said, clapping his hands together, face beaming like he had just made a great sale, “I will tell him. He’ll probably spend much of the next few days practicing.”
    With that settled, Stren turned and headed toward town. “Coming, Garen?” he said over his shoulder.
    Garen stood speechless as he looked between Stren’s parting back and Michael’s amused face. “Want to help me finish my chores?”
    “Sorry, I need to put another coat of varnish on Mrs. Naples new table then pay a visit to my parents.”
    “You came to a draw with my dad? And he let you use Hothfyre? Unbelievable.” Garen fell into step behind Stren, still shaking his head.
    Michael watched them leave, his smile slipping as Garen disappeared into the forest. Maybe Garen was right. Perhaps his skill with a sword was rare, but what difference could another good blade make? He would answer the call if required to, but all he truly wanted was to follow in his father’s footsteps as a carpenter. Garen wanted to honor his father by being the best soldier he could. Why couldn’t he understand Michael only wanted to do the same?
    He glanced at the sun approaching mid-afternoon. He was going to be hard pressed to get his work done and still have time to see his parents.
    A pair of