Once A Hero Read Online Free PDF Page B

the tower complex. While at the center it was open to the sky, extending up for five levels from the ground. Concentric disks, each smaller than the one above it, formed terraces overlooking the courtyard.
    At the courtyard's center, a huge stone ring surrounded what I can only describe as a firewell. Incandescent gases burned there in pulsed jets that filled the area with the heat of a forge. The ghoulish architecture had been used in this area with the terraces being bone-thatch, and the blocks making up the ring looking like compacted skeletons, where skull rested on knees with arms holding leg bones tight to the chest.
    Opposite us, across an audience of fifty Reithrese individuals, a High Priest of the Dark Goddess stood resplendent in a cloth of gold robe hemmed to look as if his garment were made from flame. The fiery glow behind him softened his thick outline and, no doubt, revealed us to him, but either he did not notice us or took no concern over our presence.
    In his two hands he held aloft a scabbarded sword. I did not understand his words, but I recognized the motions of an auctioneer offering something for inspection and bids. To me, after five years and twenty yards distant, the sword looked different, but I knew the blade he presented was Cleaveheart and that it would be mine before the night was out.
    Aarundel leaned toward me and kept his voice low. "He says this is Khiephnaft and offers it for bid."
    In the center of the crowd a Reithrese stood up. He turned this way and that to nod at the others present, and gave me a good look at his profile. Though more slender than his brother, he had the same hungry look in his eyes. His smile, from where I stood, appeared a sparkling black gash on the lower end of his face, but that was because, as a magicker, his teeth were diamonds. He pointed to the sword and began to speak.
    I stepped forward before Aarundel could grab me and drop a hand over my mouth. "Begging your pardon, Takrakor, but would you mind speaking in Mantongue? My Reithrese is not that good, and I'll be bidding against you."
    Only the fire's roar answered my request. The Reithrese and Reithressas present all turned to look at me, with their jeweled teeth not nearly as pretty displayed in shock as they were when flashed in a smile. Then, all of a sudden, everyone spoke at once in a riot of angry, angular words.
    Aarundel stepped up beside me and shouted in guttural tones to the high priest. The priest considered the words, while Reithrese gesticulated at me furiously. He then looked down at the crowd and shouted one word that brought silence. When his head came up, the priest looked directly at me.
    "The Elf has said you wish to invoke wirt kalma."
    I nodded. "I understood that the determination of inheritance brought with it a truce, else I'd not have been mad enough to come here."
    "It does, but only for those who are meant to be here."
    The priest stared sternly at someone who grumbled from the front row. " If your suit for possession of the sword is successful, then we will know you were meant to be here and you will be granted wirt kalma."
    The murderous stares of the others in the room told me what would happen if I was not given possession of the blade. "I understand."
    "Very well. Takrakor, you were stating the reasons why Khiephnaft should pass to you."
    The Reithrese sorcerer nodded slowly. "My brother was not alone in his desire to reestablish our empire. This was a dream we had together, and together we realized it. In the time it took me to devise and implement the plan that put my brother back into the field, our efforts became welded together as had our dreams. He meant the blade, which is the catalyst for realizing our dream, to fall to me. It is upon this that I base my suit."
    The priest looked up at me. "You, Manchild, state your case."
    I smiled easily to hide the snake crawling around in my belly. "I found the blade for Tashayul because without my efforts, he never would have