The Broken Sword Read Online Free PDF Page B

those smiths that it was only a short while before Skafloc wore winged helm, shining byrnie, shield on back and sword at side and axe in hand, all of blue-gleaming steel. He yelled for joy, swung high his weapons and shrilled the war-cry of the elves.
    “Ha!” he shouted as he rammed the sword back into its sheath. “Let trolls or goblins, aye, giants dare approach Alfheim! We shall smite them like the lightning and carry the fire into their own lands!” And he made the staves:
    Swiftly goes the sword-play singing in the mountains. Clash of steel is calling, danging up to heaven:-arrows flying angry; axes lifting skyward, banging down on byrnies, breaking shields and helmets. Swiftly goes the sword-play: Spears on hosts are raining; men run forth in madness, mowing ranks of foemen; battle tumult bellows; blood is red on axeheads; greedily the grey wolf gorges with the raven.
    “Well spoken, IS a trifle boyish,” said Imric coolly, “but remember not to touch elves with those new toys of yours. Let us begone.” He gave Motsognir a sack of gold. “Here is payment for the work.”
    “Rather had I been paid by the freeing of your thralls of our race,” said the dwarf.
    “They are too useful,” declared Imric, and left.
    ***
    At dawn his troop sheltered in a cave, and the next night rode on to the great forest in which stood the Elfking’s castle.
    Here was a weaving of witchery that Skafloc did not yet know how to unravel. He was dimly aware of high slender towers against the moon, of a blue twilight wherein many stars wavered and danced, of a music which pierced flesh and bone to thrill in the very soul; but not until they were in the throne room could he clearly see anything.
    Surrounded by his tall lords, in a throne of shadow sat the .Elfking. Golden were his crown and sceptre, and his robes of a purple that blent with the spacious gloaming. His hair and beard were white, and he alone of the elves showed lines of age in brow and cheeks. His face was otherwise as if carved in marble; but fires burned within his eyes.
    Imric bowed, and the warriors in his train bent the knee to their King. When the ruler spoke, it was like windsong: “Greeting, Imric, earl of Britain’s elves.”
    “Greeting, lord,” answered the chieftain, and he met the Elfking’s calm, terrible gaze.
    “We have summoned our chieftains to council,” said the ruler, “since word has reached us that the trolls make ready to go to war again. It cannot be doubted ‘tis us they arm against, and we may look for the truce to end in the next few years.”
    “That is well, lord. Our swords were mouldering in the scabbards.”
    “It may not be so well, Imric. Last time the elves drove back the trolls and would have entered their land had not peace been made. Illrede Troll-King is no fool. He would not attempt war did he not think he was stronger than formerly.”
    “I will ready my domain, lord, and send out spies.”
    “Good. Perhaps they can learn something useful, though our own have failed.” Now the Elfking turned his eyes on Skafloc, who grew cold about the heart however boldly he confronted that flame of a gaze. “We have heard tell of your changeling, Imric,” he murmured. “You should have asked us.”
    “There was no time, lord,” argued the earl. “The babe would be baptized ere I could get word here and back. Hard is it to steal a child these days.”
    “And risky too, Imric.”
    “Aye, lord, but worth it. I need not remind you that humans can do much which is barred to elf, troll, goblin or the like. They may use every metal, they may touch holy water and walk on holy ground and speak the name of the new god-aye, the old gods themselves must flee some things which humans have the freedom of. We elves need such a one.”
    “The changeling you left in his place could do all that.”
    “Indeed, lord. But you know the wild and evil nature of a half-breed like that. He cannot be trusted with magic as this human can. Were it