Star of the Morning Read Online Free
Author: Lynn Kurland
heard, then it fell silent.
Miach looked at the blade. If the Sword of Neroche was unresponsive, was it possible the Sword of Angesand might not be? Could not a soul be found to awaken its magic? If a wielder could be found, perhaps it would be enough to keep Lothar curbed until Miach could solve the mystery of Adhémar and his sword.
Perhaps.
Miachâs hand shook as he replaced the swordâand that wasnât from the exertion. It might work. Indeed, he couldnât see why it wouldnât. He turned and walked out of the great hall, convinced that there was no other path to be taken. Nerocheâs king had lost his magic and the archmage could not win the battle on his own. The Sword of Angesand had power enough bound into its elegant steel to tip the scales in their favor.
Now, to find someone willing to go off and search for that wielder.
Miach made his way through the castle and back into the private family quarters. He found almost all his brothers gathered in their own, more modest hall, sipping or gulping ale as their particular circumstance warranted. He paused at the doorway to the chamber and looked them over. Was there a man there who might have the clearness of vision to recognize a wielder when he saw one?
Miach looked at Cathar, who sat to the right of the kingâs chair. He was a serious man of five and thirty winters, a scant year younger than Adhémar, who never would have thought to take an uninvited turn in his brotherâs seat to see how it felt.
Of course, that kind of testing was nothing to Rigaud, two years Catharâs junior and as light-minded as the rest of them were serious. He lounged comfortably in Adhémarâs chair, dressed in his finest clothes. Miach looked pointedly at his green-eyed brother and only received a lazy wink in return. When Adhémar entered, he would be forced to bodily remove Rigaud from his seat, which Rigaud would enjoy immensely, though he would no doubt complain about the damage to his clothing.
Next came Nemed, a lean man of thirty-two years with soft gray eyes and a gentle smile. Miach shook his head. Cathar wouldnât have dared take on the task, Rigaud would have forgotten the task in his pursuit of fame and fortune, and Nemed would have found himself ripped to shreds by anyone with any ambition for power.
That left him with only his twin brothers, Mansourah and Turah. They were canny warriors, but with weaponry was where their allegiance lay. They likely would have spent their time fighting over which of them might have been more suited to wielding the Sword of Angesand than searching out someone else to do it.
Miach sighed heavily as he realized what heâd known from the start. There was only one to seek out the wielder, and that soul would not be happy to hear the news.
Adhémar suddenly entered the chamber. All stood except Rigaud, who apparently didnât want to give up his seat any sooner than necessary. Miach suppressed a smile at the squawking that ensued when the preening rooster was unceremoniously removed from his perch.
Adhémar sat, then looked at Miach. âWell?â
Miach shut the door behind him, then leaned back against it. No sense in letting anyone escape unnecessarily. âI believe I have found a solution.â
âA solution?â Cathar echoed. âA solution to what?â
Miach folded his arms over his chest. He wasnât about to reveal the details of the kingâs current condition. Adhémar could do that himself.
Adhémar shot Miach a glare, then turned to Cathar. âI lost my magic,â he said bluntly.
There were sounds of amazement from several quarters. Cathar frowned.
âThis afternoon?â he asked.
âAye.â
âIs it permanent?â Rigaud asked promptly.
âDonât hope for it overmuch,â Adhémar said shortly. âIâm sure it will return soon.â He shot Miach a look. âWonât it?â
âIâm
Miach looked at the blade. If the Sword of Neroche was unresponsive, was it possible the Sword of Angesand might not be? Could not a soul be found to awaken its magic? If a wielder could be found, perhaps it would be enough to keep Lothar curbed until Miach could solve the mystery of Adhémar and his sword.
Perhaps.
Miachâs hand shook as he replaced the swordâand that wasnât from the exertion. It might work. Indeed, he couldnât see why it wouldnât. He turned and walked out of the great hall, convinced that there was no other path to be taken. Nerocheâs king had lost his magic and the archmage could not win the battle on his own. The Sword of Angesand had power enough bound into its elegant steel to tip the scales in their favor.
Now, to find someone willing to go off and search for that wielder.
Miach made his way through the castle and back into the private family quarters. He found almost all his brothers gathered in their own, more modest hall, sipping or gulping ale as their particular circumstance warranted. He paused at the doorway to the chamber and looked them over. Was there a man there who might have the clearness of vision to recognize a wielder when he saw one?
Miach looked at Cathar, who sat to the right of the kingâs chair. He was a serious man of five and thirty winters, a scant year younger than Adhémar, who never would have thought to take an uninvited turn in his brotherâs seat to see how it felt.
Of course, that kind of testing was nothing to Rigaud, two years Catharâs junior and as light-minded as the rest of them were serious. He lounged comfortably in Adhémarâs chair, dressed in his finest clothes. Miach looked pointedly at his green-eyed brother and only received a lazy wink in return. When Adhémar entered, he would be forced to bodily remove Rigaud from his seat, which Rigaud would enjoy immensely, though he would no doubt complain about the damage to his clothing.
Next came Nemed, a lean man of thirty-two years with soft gray eyes and a gentle smile. Miach shook his head. Cathar wouldnât have dared take on the task, Rigaud would have forgotten the task in his pursuit of fame and fortune, and Nemed would have found himself ripped to shreds by anyone with any ambition for power.
That left him with only his twin brothers, Mansourah and Turah. They were canny warriors, but with weaponry was where their allegiance lay. They likely would have spent their time fighting over which of them might have been more suited to wielding the Sword of Angesand than searching out someone else to do it.
Miach sighed heavily as he realized what heâd known from the start. There was only one to seek out the wielder, and that soul would not be happy to hear the news.
Adhémar suddenly entered the chamber. All stood except Rigaud, who apparently didnât want to give up his seat any sooner than necessary. Miach suppressed a smile at the squawking that ensued when the preening rooster was unceremoniously removed from his perch.
Adhémar sat, then looked at Miach. âWell?â
Miach shut the door behind him, then leaned back against it. No sense in letting anyone escape unnecessarily. âI believe I have found a solution.â
âA solution?â Cathar echoed. âA solution to what?â
Miach folded his arms over his chest. He wasnât about to reveal the details of the kingâs current condition. Adhémar could do that himself.
Adhémar shot Miach a glare, then turned to Cathar. âI lost my magic,â he said bluntly.
There were sounds of amazement from several quarters. Cathar frowned.
âThis afternoon?â he asked.
âAye.â
âIs it permanent?â Rigaud asked promptly.
âDonât hope for it overmuch,â Adhémar said shortly. âIâm sure it will return soon.â He shot Miach a look. âWonât it?â
âIâm
Readers choose
Caroline B. Cooney
Carolyn McCray
Tammy Turner
Amy Rose Capetta
Kansuke Naka
Velvet Touch
Joya Fields
Nina Croft
Tim Ewbank
Iain Lawrence