Divided against Yourselves (Spell Weaver) Read Online Free PDF

different cheerleader every time I saw him. Even Stan was regarded as cute by many of the girls—sort of the nerd-with-possibilities type who appears so often in movies and ends up proving to be the better guy than the star jock at the end.
    And Nurse Florence? What can I say? Natural blond hair (but certainly not someone who fit the “dumb blond” stereotype), face like an angel, body like a Playboy model. She didn’t look like the fearless battlefield healer she became when the occasion called for it. She looked much more like someone high school males would fantasize about. There I could speak from personal experience…
    It was then that I was jolted back to reality when I noticed that Carlos’s left sleeve was torn, and the edges of the rip were bloodstained. I blinked, trying to process what I was seeing. Actually, all five were bloodied, though not always with their own blood, or so I hoped.
    Well, that explained what had taken them so long. They must have run into trouble of some kind on the way.
    Nurse Florence had her hands on my shoulders, letting her mind scan my body. I knew that was what she must be doing, though I couldn’t feel her probing as I normally could.
    “He’ll live,” she began, directing her remarks to my anxious friends, “but he has a very nasty spell keeping him all but paralyzed physically and too weak mentally to use magic. It will take me time to break something this strong. The five of you need to go in and stop Morgan from whatever she is trying to do.” I wanted to second her suggestion, but I couldn’t force words out. “Oh, and try to retrieve Tal’s sword if you can,” she continued. “Morgan seems to have taken it.”
    Each one took the time to give me an encouraging pat on the shoulder and then rushed in without a word. I couldn’t help but feel proud of how well they worked as a team now. I wanted to go in with them, but Nurse Florence was right—I wasn’t going anywhere right now. Well, unless they carried me in, which would be pretty silly in a potential battle.
    Nurse Florence spent a little time on the nick on my arm, which she healed fairly quickly. Breaking the spell was much harder, just as she had suspected. As she chanted quietly in Welsh, I kept reassuring myself that the guys had the situation handled, that I did not need to worry.
    Shahriyar’s sword, Shamshir-e Zomorrodnegar, once wielded by King Solomon and later by the Muslim demon slayer, Amir Arsalan, had among its other distinctions the fact that it made the wielder immune to all hostile magic and that it could cut through and dissipate magical effects. That one blade by itself might well be enough to defeat Morgan, and the fact that Shar, even before his combat training with me, had been pure muscle and very successful in both boxing and mixed martial arts made him a very formidable adversary. Facing a spell casting opponent, in fact, he was more likely to prevail than I was, though I hated to admit that (male ego, you know!)
    Then there was Carlos’s sword, faerie-forged for him personally. One scratch from his blade, and his opponent would start running out of oxygen as if the enemy were drowning. Dan’s sword, also faerie-forged just for him, kept him from bleeding from any wounds he suffered, much as Excalibur’s scabbard used to do before it was lost. Gordy’s sword, yet another faerie-forged and personalized blade, struck fear into any enemy when it was drawn, though a typical spell caster would be too strong-willed to be overcome by the sword’s effect.
    Stan’s sword, like Shar’s but in contrast to all the others, was “pre-owned”— but since the original owner had been King David, Stan couldn’t really complain too much. Govannon, the faerie smith, had added to it the ability to make Stan’s body as muscular as Shar’s—a big bonus at a point when Stan had been more nerdy, and even now, though Stan was working out a lot more, the sword still added visibly to his muscle