Sword Quest Read Online Free PDF

what your heart tells you to do! All you must do is agree to swallow my essence.”
    After a silence, Yin glanced into the distance and sighed. “I am like you. I know how it feels. Truly.” He smiled sadly at 013-Unidentified.
    “Why do you want me to swallow your essence?” the white bird asked at last.
    Yin Soul closed his eyes. “Then I would be able toguide you from inside your body.”
    013-Unidentified peered at Yin Soul, confused. Suppose, just suppose it was real. Then his troubles would probably end here and now, but…was his conscience telling him no? Was it the same thing that had made him say his long-ago name, Wind-voice, instead of 013-Unidentified when he spoke to the woodpecker captive, Ewingerale?
    You are Wind-voice, not 013-Unidentified, a voice deep inside him said. Think like Wind-voice.
    For a split second, everything in the room changed. Red blurred to gray. The flames went out; the candles were pools of wax. The cinnamon scents of incense soured into those of spoiled fish.
    The old, kind bird was transformed. The eyelids were gone, and Wind-voice could see his eyeballs, dark yellow as rotten plums. The gentle chuckles of Yin Soul changed to a dreadful sound, as if somebird was vomiting. This was what Yin Soul was truly like. The feathers on Wind-voice’s nape rose and he gulped. He was chilled with fear. It was suddenly very cold.
    The next second everything returned to the way it had been.
    “013-Unidentified, will you agree?”
    Wind-voice didn’t dare to look into Yin Soul’s face,but he knew what he wanted to say. “No. Take me back! I want to go back.” He rose and looked around. He saw the raven who had brought him here lurking behind a bookcase and stepped toward him. “Take me back to the archaeopteryxes.”
    “You cannot,” Yin Soul taunted. With a whirl of his wings, the shadows of ghostly birds, screeching unearthly sounds, appeared out of nowhere and moved swiftly toward Wind-voice. “You cannot. It is against your instincts to go willingly to your death. Come to me!”
    But Wind-voice knew—he had seen, in that brief moment of true sight—that Yin Soul’s apparent kindness could not be trusted. Whatever he offered, whatever he planned, Wind-voice knew he wanted no part of it—even if the other choice was death.
    Wind-voice faced the raven. “No! I want to go back! You said you must take me back!
    “I don’t think so. Stay.” Yin Soul rose as well and reached out a rootlike, quivering claw.
    Wind-voice flung a red blanket at Yin Soul. Then he grabbed hold of the raven’s feet and shouted, “Fly!” The raven cawed in surprise. The mangy bird dragged Wind-voice into the air as Yin Soul yelled below them, “Soon you’ll wish you had listened to me!” The ghost birdswailed along with their master. Wind-voice didn’t see Yin Soul shaking his balled claws, didn’t hear him whisper, “At least there is the other one.”
    Wind-voice closed his eyes tightly and could hear only the beat of the raven’s wings, which soon turned into the crackling of wood.
    To his horror, he could smell salt and pepper on his body. Had it all been a dream? Coughing, he opened his eyes. His smothered skin was flushed to a reddish pink, and his lungs felt as if they had collapsed. He was still over the fire. Tears burst into his eyes as sparks leaped up and scorched him. But the tears quickly evaporated in the heat.
    Wind-voice realized that there wasn’t much smoke around him. But the smoke had to go out somewhere. Craning his neck, he squinted at the ceiling above. Cold air blew through a jagged hole. He looked around. No archaeopteryxes cared to be near the heat of the fire. The fire tenders were all away on errands for the cook at the moment. He peered down into the flames. There was only one way, and that was the fool’s way. He opened his beak, sucked in a deep breath, and blew with all his might at the fire. Shutting his eyes tightly, he waited for the flames to flare back at