The Storm's Own Son (Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

moment, sipped his own wine, then replied, "I've heard the old story from the north, of those born amid storms having gifts related to them, but that story comes in many versions, some contradictory to one another. By itself, I don't think such an origin would account for everything you can do."
    With a sudden impulse, Talaos asked, "Are you a magus?"
    The commander made a quiet laugh, "No, merely a scholar. The path of a magus is too demanding of time and risk to leave much room for a life of campaigning in the field, and I am at heart a man of war."
    Then Sanctari leaned forward. "As are you Talaos. Regardless of the source of your gifts, they align with war. And I think , war, in whatever form, is part of you."
    "Yes, but for me war is an aspect of something else," replied Talaos.
    "I am certain of that. Change, perhaps. In fact, our looming storm to the east reminds me of you, so perhaps there is something to the northern tales."
    "Now, however," added Sanctari, "in regard to war, you have won spoils in addition to those you have divided with your comrades. Personal spoils under the old laws."
    With that, Sanctari rose and walked to a chest. He pulled out the glyph sword that had been the leopard's, and the silver headband and long wand that had belonged to the magus. He returned, and put them on the floor before Talaos, then sat at his chair.
    "These are now yours," said Sanctari.
    Talaos stared at them, unsure what to say.
    "This circlet and this wand, or rather items of this kind, are called the Crown and the Scepter of the World by magi of a certain school found here and in the other lands that were part of the old Empire. Only a magus of sufficient knowledge and experience has the right to wear them. The names signify a claim of mastery over the elements, and of creation and destruction. These belonged to a man named Aradion, who was an unusual magus, in that he served in wars. But then, he was a dedicated patriot to his city of Kyras."
    "Aren't you worried what I might do with them?" asked Talaos, though he had no intention of doing anything with them.
    "No. Though potent items when wielded by the magus to whom they are bound, they have no magic of their own that can be used, or misused, by another."
    Talaos picked up the glyph sword. The blade still looked keen, but the glyphs themselves were disfigured, as if melted.
    "What was the name of the man who owned this?" asked Talaos.
    "Akallas. He was the champion of Kyras, and a man of gifts himself. He was Aradion's son."
    Talaos thought of the meaning of that, staring at the sword.
    Then he considered the sword itself.
    "What happened to it, to the glyphs?" he asked.
    "It was a weapon aligned with fire, and it burned away the life from those it struck. I do not think use in battle should have done this to it. Perhaps when you slew General Vissos with your throw, and it made that burst of fire visible from the pass, your own power infused it beyond what it was meant to do, and thereby destroyed it."
    Talaos considered the implications of that. He had done exactly that, with intention, but without understanding what it meant.  That brought something else to mind. "How is something like this made?"
    At that, Sanctari nodded with a kind of world-wise smile, then he replied. "Ah, a weapon of power, of magic. A mighty advantage for any warrior," said Sanctari, "and one you would, no doubt, like to add to your already considerable advantages."
    The general took a sip of wine, and went on.
    "The physical parts of them are made as any other weapon, by a smith with sufficient skill. However, the reason there are so few in the world is that the magic must come from someone who can wield magic, and that person must forever put a part of themselves, a bit of their life and power, into the object. It is a great sacrifice for a magus to give someone a thing like this."
    Like the sacrifice of a father for his son, reflected Talaos.
    "Now, Talaos," said Sanctari, finishing his wine,