The Golden Swan Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Tirell, you coward, where are you?” he asked the night. The tone was full of threat. The sword was raised.
    â€œI have to disarm him,” Trevyn said. “Dair, go get me one of the wooden practice swords from the barracks.”
    He’ll slice it right off , I protested.
    â€œI think not. That sword is old, dull of edge. A wooden sword will do.”
    I brought it as quickly as I was able. Even so, Frain had stalked through a quarter of the castle by the time I got back, with Trevyn never far from his side, warning the guards out of his way. Frain had come out to a platform when I found them. Trevyn and a cluster of guards whispered nearby. Frain stood, no longer the coolheaded hunter, his anger pulsing hot, blood heat.
    â€œTirell!” He shouted the challenge, it rang from the stone walls. He had forgotten Fabron, it seemed.
    Trevyn took the wooden sword from me and stepped forward to meet him. At the first touch of the mock blade to his own, Frain lunged forward, filled with lust to kill.
    â€œMothers!” Trevyn exclaimed, but it was not Frain’s passion that surprised him. Frain was a master swordsman.
    He was splendid, deadly. Even I could see that. The guards gasped, watching him. Trevyn was skillful, he had been well trained, but weapons had never been his main love. Dreaming had, and peace. There was no room for dreaming in that night.
    â€œWhat am I to do with him?” Trevyn wondered aloud, breathing hard.
    He had two good hands, and Frain had only one. Trevyn was trying to engage Frain’s sword with his wooden one while he used his other hand to wrench it away. But it was all he could do to parry Frain’s blows, far less get hold of that hilt. Frain was lightning fast, brilliant, murderous. Trevyn could not stand his ground. He gave way, circling back, feeling for advantage.
    â€œCoward,” Frain taunted.
    Hardly a coward, who faced him with a mock weapon. The guards eyed each other, wondering if they could help Trevyn without breach of honor, without hurting his pride.
    â€œSurround him, you fellows,” Trevyn panted, forgetting pride for the time.
    The guards moved to obey. But before they reached Frain the wooden sword broke with a horrible snap. I shouted with fear—Frain’s sword flashed straight for Trevyn’s head! He fell. But as the guards lunged forward a movement of his hand stopped them. And Frain stood still and lowered his long sword, breathed one last curse and walked away.
    Trevyn waited until he was well down the corridor before he got up.
    I thought you were as good as dead! I told him, shaking. There was a welt on his head. He smiled at me.
    â€œPraise be, I caught the flat of it. And Frain is satisfied with his revenge. At least I hope he is.”
    He was. He went back to his bed and fell sound asleep. Some time later we slipped in and stole the sword away from him to take it back where it belonged. Trevyn went to see him first thing the next morning.
    â€œWhat happened to you?” Frain demanded, staring. There was a bright red mark across the left side of Trevyn’s forehead.
    â€œI lost a bout to a better,” Trevyn said wryly. “How are you? Did you sleep well?”
    â€œI—no. Please, my lord, no more draughts. I slept, but I had the most—terrible dream.”
    â€œNo more draughts,” Trevyn agreed readily, seating himself. “What was the dream?”
    â€œI—” Frain looked down, uncomfortable. “I was—quarreling with my brother.”
    â€œOh?” said Trevyn, prodding for better truth. Quarreling was hardly the word.
    â€œReally, my lord, it was nothing, it was of no significance. Dreams are unaccountable things.” Frain looked quite pained. Trevyn had mercy on him, or a partial mercy.
    â€œThis brother of yours—you say he is a True King, and yet he ravished your beloved, crippled you—”
    â€œHe was not himself,” Frain said