Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One) Read Online Free PDF

and wondered if he was really meant to pursue
great deeds as a sword bearer. The vegetables and grains he had harvested every
season from these fields gave him comfort in their ability to be known, to be
understood and appreciated. His rough hands were better suited to a hoe and
fishing pole than the hilt of a sword, as Lord Silverwing would remind him all
too soon.
                "Oh,
how I grieve for your lack of dexterity. Is there no amount of balance forced
into you that your limbs cannot undo? God of Light, please bless and keep this
boy untainted by war so that he might not injure those nearby that would aid
him! Once more, Gregor, and for all that is pure, concentrate!" Master
Silverwing was a weapon master the likes of which Gregor had never seen, even
among the best of the sparring warriors that had numbered among the Knights of
Bella Grey. It seemed Gregor's strength training with the practice swords was
of little use in preparing to actually wield true weapons. The swords prepared
by the village's blacksmith were art in steel, but no special prowess was
bestowed with the care in their creation. The first weeks of hacking at stuffed
practice dummies had tuned his muscles to some extent. Nightfall after each
sparring match with Master Silverwing brought aches where Gregor had not known
muscle existed. Still, the dance of his mentor's blades was an
inspiration.   The slow movement as he
would parry aside Gregor's awkward thrusts only enhanced the beauty of the two
blades. Those swords were weapons made for the valiant, and Master Silverwing
seemed impervious to attack with the weapons in hand. Gregor often found
himself distracted with dreams of wielding such fine blades with the grace of a
true warrior.
                "Master
Silverwing, I am never going to be able to bear the blades as you do. My
strength is the strong assault, the swift cleave that takes the enemy by
surprise with the muscle of the attack. You are a dancer and I am a clod. You
strike from a natural place of balance honed by years of practice, and I strike
with the swing of a smithy." Gregor was sad to admit it, but certainly his
mentor must see this obvious fact.
                "There
is truth in your words, Master Gregor, but the failure in your ability is a
lack of insight into the trainer. You do not have the hands for two blades.
Sheath one of your weapons and follow me." Silverwing turned to travel
deeper into the tall trees. The ranger paused at the base of one of the oldest
oaks in the wood and gazed skyward toward the blended yellows and reds coloring
the leaves above him. "Beautiful, isn't it? No man could match the burst
of color that nature produces without any effort. This one should serve our
purpose." Silverwing began climbing into the giant tree that would have
taken ten men touching wide spread hands to measure its girth at its lower
trunk, his grace all the more apparent as he ascended into the upper branches.
"Come up, Gregor! The view from here is beautiful! Leave one of the swords
at the tree's base."
                Gregor
could not imagine what the ranger had in mind, but he allowed his curiosity to
propel him into the tree's branches to join him near the upper portion of the
tree. It had been a long time since Gregor had climbed up into the higher
reaches of any of the great oaks, and he had to admire the profusion of leaves
that formed the canopy. Silverwing stood on a thick branch near where it
emerged at the center of the tree, extending outward to form a portion of the
crown. Its branches divided at Gregor's back a few steps behind the shaking
warrior. Despite the thickness of the branch Gregor's legs were splayed across,
the young student felt certain it was best not to look down, and he had no
intention of standing up.   "What is
so fascinating way up here?” Gregor focused on his mentor as he posed the
question, not wanting to dwell on the distance to the ground from his