The Sword Read Online Free PDF

get here? Who the hell are you? And put me down this minute, buster!” She kicked her feet for emphasis, since her arms were still tightly pinned to her sides.
    The other two exchanged words in that other, incomprehensible language, arguing a bit more, then the one holding her looked down at her as she kicked again. “He says you’re supposed to drink the damned potion—and if you bite me again, I’ll bite your whole gods-be-damned head off!”
    â€œYou attacked me, so you deserved it!” she shot back, struggling in his grip, though she was losing strength once again, as the momentary adrenaline caused by finally being understood faded out. “And I’m not drinking anything I don’t know about!”
    â€œIt’s a translation potion, you little idiot!” the man holding her all but roared, glaring down at her with steel-gray eyes. “How else would I be able to tell you you’re an idiot?”
    The other man asserted something as she struggled, energized by his roar. She still didn’t understand a word. Or how the thick, now white “potion” could translate a damned thing. It had to be a trick!
    â€œPut me down!”
    â€œI’ll put you down when you drink the gods-be-damned potion, woman!” he roared back. His younger brother, or cousin, or whatever, roared at him, too, a string of vituperative-sounding, liquid syllables. The bully holding her backed down. Scowled as he did so, but backed down. And muttered at her, “Just drink the damned potion, and then you can yell at him all you want. He’s the one who brought you here.”
    She eyed him. She eyed the other, younger man holding the potion. She eyed the goblet. She eyed the man holding her again. Maybe it wasn’t a drug of some kind— he didn’t seem to have been changed or altered by it. Kelly was weakened by her ordeals, but her sense of humor asserted itself for a moment through her exhaustion.
    If he’s still grumpy and aggravating after drinking it, it has to be perfectly safe. I think I’d be more suspicious if it had suddenly turned him kitten-sweet. So, in a way the other one picked the right guy to serve it to, if his intent was reassuring me of its contents…
    Mouth quirking up on one side just a little, she sighed. “ Fine. I’ll drink the damned potion. But if you do anything to me I don’t want you to, I’ll bite off parts of you no woman should ever have to threaten to destroy. And that’s not a threat,” she added as he frowned in confusion, blinked, and finally got her meaning with a bronzing flush on his lightly tanned cheeks. “That’s a fact. So you’d better set me free right after I drink the damned stuff!”
    He grunted, ignoring her threat with a nod to the other man. The cup came up to her lips. She resisted a moment, sniffing cautiously. It smelled like dandelion milk, with that greenish, bitterish aroma that spoke of lawns and summer days, and the never-ending battle between parents trying to eradicate the weed and kids nibbling on the stems and blowing on the tufted seeds to make a wish.
    A cautious dip of her tongue into the liquid tingled her taste buds. It tasted even worse than the bitter dandelion juice she remembered vaguely from her childhood, because it tasted like someone had dumped in a tablespoon of pepper sauce and a hefty squirt of lemon juice, and maybe even some dishwashing soap. There was no sign of the leaf the other man had used, or any of the other ingredients she had glimpsed being added to the previously muddy brew. She could just see the smooth, milky white, bitter glop inside the white-glazed cup.
    The goblet tipped a little more, forcing her to drink or be drowned. Gulping it down quickly, she struggled not to gag at the repellent combination of tastes. When the last of the thick liquid had been delivered, but for the amount coating the interior, the younger man removed the