Legacy of the Sword Read Online Free PDF

clearer, more distinct. It was thickly forested, cloaked in lilac heather. Through the trees glowed a faint expanse of silver-white. “The Firstborn, Sef. Those the gods made first, as their name implies. Later, much later, were the Cheysuli born.”
    Sef frowned, concentrating, so that his black brows overshadowed his odd eyes. “You’re saying once there were
no
people?”
    “The
shar tahls
—our priest-historians—teach us that once the land was empty of men. It was a decision of the gods to put men upon the Crystal Isle and give it over to them freely. It is these original men we call the Firstborn. But the Firstborn soon outgrew the Crystal Isle, as men will when there are women, and went to Homana: a more spacious land fortheir growing numbers. They built a fine realm there, ruling it well, and the gods were pleased. As a mark of their favor, they sent the
lir
to them. And because of the earth magic, the Firstborn were able to bond with the
lir
, to learn what
lir-
shape is—”
    “
Shapechangers
,” Sef interrupted involuntarily, shivering as he spoke.
    Donal sighed. “The name is easily come by, but we do not use it ourselves.
Cheysuli
is the Old Tongue, meaning
children of the gods.
But men—Homanans—being unblessed, all too often resort to the word as an insult.” He thought again of the Homanan in the Market Square; the woman who had made the sign of the evil eye; the splatter of manure against his cloak. And all because he could shift his shape from man into animal.
    Surely the gods would never give such gifts to us was there any chance we would use them for evil! Why must so many believe we would?
    They do not understand.
Taj floated lightly, pale gold in the silver mist.
They are unblessed, and blind to the magic.
    Why do the gods not make them
see?
    Blindness often serves a purpose
, Lorn explained.
Sight
recovered
is often better than original vision.
    Donal looked directly at Sef. “Shapechanger,” he said clearly. “Aye, it is true—I shift my shape at will. I become a wolf or falcon. But does it make me
so
different from you? I do not doubt there are things
you
do that I cannot. Should I castigate you for it?”
    Sef shivered again. “It isn’t the same. It isn’t the
same. You
become an animal, while I—” he shook his head violently, denying the image, “—while
I
remain a boy. A normal,
human
boy.”
    “Unblessed,” Donal agreed, for a moment callous in his pride.
    Sef looked at him then, staring fixedly at Donal’s face. His disconcerting gaze traveled from yellow eyes to golden earring, and he swallowed visibly. “The—the Firstborn,” he began, “where are they, now?”
    “The Firstborn no longer exist. And most of their gifts are lost.”
    Sef frowned. “Where did they go? What happened?”
    The taffrail creaked as Donal shifted his weight. “It is toolong a story. One night, I promise, I will tell you it all—but, for now,
this
will have to content you.” He looked directly at the boy and saw how attentive he was. “I am told the Firstborn became too inbred, that the gifts began to fade. And so before they died out they gave what they could to their children, the Cheysuli, and left them a prophecy.” For a moment he was touched by the gravity of what his race undertook; how important the service was. “It is the Firstborn we seek to regain by strengthening the blood. Someday, when the proper mixture is attained, we will have a Firstborn among us again, and all the magic will be reborn.” He smiled. “So the prophecy tells us:
one day a man of all blood shall unite, in peace, two magical races and four warring realms.
” Fluidly, he made the gesture of
tahlmorra
—right hand palm-up, fingers spread—to indicate the shortened form of the Old Tongue phrase meaning, in Homanan,
the fate of a man rests always within the hands of the gods.
    “You said—they
lost
their gifts—?”
    “Most of them. The Firstborn were far more powerful than the Cheysuli. They