The Spirit Eater Read Online Free Page A

“Berek Sted.”
    The man sneered and moved into the light. He looked very different from when Pele had seen him last. His bald head was covered in several weeks’ growth of stubbly hair, all except the top, where true baldness had left him bare. His scarred face was overgrown as well and streaked with dirt. His black coat was gone, as was his sash with its grotesque collection of severed hands and broken swords. Instead, his bare chest was wrapped in bandages, most of which were dark with old, dried blood. But the greatest change of all was his left arm. His shoulder and the first half of bicep looked the same as ever, but then, his arm simply stopped. He had no elbow, no hand, just a badly bandaged lump that he kept pressed against his side.
    “Found you at last,” Sted panted. “Swordsmith.”
    “What do you want?” Slorn asked, his voice dry.
    Sted shifted his weight, pushing off the steep hillside with his one good arm to hurl something straight at them. It landed with a clatter at Slorn’s feet, biting into the weather-stained wood. Slorn looked down, arching a furry eye ridge at what was left of Sted’s black-toothed awakened blade. The top half of the sword was gone, leaving a ragged, twisted edge, as though the metal had been ripped apart.
    “You sold me a faulty sword,” Sted said. “I want another, a real one this time. One that won’t break when I need it.”
    Slorn reached down and picked up the broken blade. He turned it over in his hands, and Pele winced. This close, she could hear the metal whimpering.
    “Your sword was a quality piece of work,” Slorn said. “Even if there was a flaw, the League is the only body entitled to demand my services, and I doubt very much they sent you here looking like that.”
    “Don’t talk to me about the League,” Sted growled.
    “Ah,” Slorn said, his voice cold. “Now I see. You’ve been drummed out.”
    “That’s none of your business.”
    “It is indeed my business,” Slorn said. “I made that sword for the League, not for you. What was it, Sted? Insubordination? Dereliction of duty?”
    “Little of everything,” Sted said with a shrug. “To hear that bastard Alric talk, choosing a good fight over a quick demon kill was the end of the world.
    After all I gave up to join the League, he kicked me out, took away my gifts. But I wouldn’t be in this position if your sword had been up to the task, bear man.”
    Slorn crossed his arms over his aproned chest. “And how did my sword fail you?”
    “It was weak!” Sted shouted. “Too weak to take a blow from that blunt bat Liechten uses. I said as much in my defense, but Alric couldn’t stand to hear the truth about his precious swordsmith.”
    Slorn bared his teeth just a fraction. “If that’s how you feel, why did you come here?”
    “To get what I’m due,” Sted said. “After all, it’s only fair. You’re the one whose failure got me kicked out, so you’re the one who’s going to have to make it right.”
    Slorn turned the broken sword over. “I can see from the dents that your sword took several blows from Josef Liechten’s ‘blunt bat.’ An impressive achievement, standing up to the greatest awakened sword in the world. I’d hardly call that deficient.” His eyes narrowed. “Though I can’t say the same for its wielder.”
    “Don’t blame this on me!” Sted shouted. “I was winning until your sword broke! It’s not my fault I lost! I don’t lose! Your sword failed me, and now you’re going to make up for it. Make me a proper sword, swordsmith! Make me a blade that can take the Heart of War!”
    “Impossible,” Slorn said, handing the broken blade to Pele. “The Heart of War is the first and greatest awakened blade, forged at the beginning of the world. Even if I could somehow make a blade to rival it, it would be pointless.” He glared at Sted. “A blade is only as powerful as the swordsman behind it. I’ve never seen you fight, but I can tell from how you’re