Dragon Magic Read Online Free PDF

face. Yet he could not complete that gesture.
    Rather, he had to stand under the gaze of that terrible eye.
    “Let the lad lay upon the bellows in this making,” said the stranger.
    “For there is that in this deed which is beyond the understanding of even you, Sigurd Volsung.”
    With that he was gone, and only the dark lay outside. He might have sunk into the ground, or taken wing into the night sky. But Sigurd was already turning back to the forge.
    “Come, Sig!” Never had he said “Clawhand”, for which Sig treasured each word he uttered. “This night we have much to do.”
    And they labored the night through, working now not with the metal from Mimir’s store but rather with the broken bits the stranger had brought. Nor did Sig feel tired from what he had to do, but helped willingly in all ways as Sigurd ordered.
    In the morning a blade lay ready for the testing. And it seemed to Sig that it held some of that shimmering light which had been about the hooded man in the dark. Sigurd’s hand fell upon the boy’s hunched shoulder.
    “It is done, and done well to my thinking. We take it now for the testing.”
    He took up the sword and held it a little before him as a man might hold a torch to light his path. They came into the full light of day and there Mimir awaited them, the rest of his laborers and those who would learn of his skill drawn up behind him. And the Master Smith drew a hissing breath when he looked upon the blade Sigurd carried.
    “So it is wrought again—Balmung, which first came from the All Father’s own forge. You do well to handle it with care, Sigurd King’s-Son, as it once brought those of your own clan and blood to an ill end.”
    “Any sword can bring death to a warrior,” Sigurd returned, “that is the reason for its sharp edging. But Balmung, being what it is, may now win your wager for you. To the testing—”
    That testing was a mighty one, for they loosed upon the stream a whole tightly bound pack of wool, which tumbled with the current. Sigurd did not slash with the blade; rather, he stood thigh-deep in the water and held it merely in the path of the wool pack. But the wool was sliced cleanly through, so that all marveled.
    Sigurd waded ashore and laid the sword carefully upon a square of fine cloth Mimir had waiting to receive it. Then he flung wide his arms and said with a laugh, “It is well said that he who yearns to make a name among men must toil for it. But it seems I have toiled overlong, master.
    Give me leave now to rest.”
    For though he was a king’s son, yet in this place Sigurd acted always as one of the commoners who would learn Mimir’s craft, and he asked no more than they in the way of any favor.
    “It is well.” Mimir nodded, busied in wrapping up the sword. “Go you to rest.”
    Then Sigurd turned and held out his hand to Sig. The boy had to take it awkwardly, since his right hand was the clawlike one he never willingly brought into the light.
    “Here is another who has served valiantly through the night. Come you, Sig, and take the rest of a good workman.” Sigurd’s hand was tight upon his, drawing him on to where the laborers had their sleeping place.

    “Master.” Sig dragged back. “It is not well. I am but a hearth boy and there do I sleep among the ashes. See, I am blackened, not fit for this place. Master Veliant and the other apprentices will be angry.”
    But Sigurd shook his head and continued to lead Sig. “One whom that stranger has set to laboring in his service need not look beneath the chin of any man when he speaks. Come now and rest.”
    And he made a kind of nest at the foot of his own sleeping place, so that Sig slept softer than he had for any time in his memory. Thus he became the shadow of Sigurd King’s-Son. And when the other apprentices dared to speak against him, Sigurd laughed and said that it was plain Sig was a luck-bringer who should be cherished. Though the others did not like it, they dared not raise their