The Swords of Night and Day Read Online Free PDF

so foolhardy. She has Memnon. His skills are far greater than mine. If I discovered your secret, so will he.”
    “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Landis rose and moved to stand alongside the old man. Leaning down, he patted Gamal’s hand.
“You
already knew my weakness. Memnon does not. And I, too, know how to cast ward spells.”
    “Ward spells will not turn aside a Shadow blade, Landis.”
    “No one knows but you and I,” said Landis.
    “Long may that prove true,” replied Gamal, with feeling.

2
    S kilgannon stood naked on the wide balcony. His breathing deepened. Drawing in a long breath, he began to work through a series of stretching exercises. His body was more supple now, the young muscles lengthening easily. Balancing on his left foot, he bent his knee and stretched out his right leg behind him. Raising his arms, he placed his palms together and slowly—his breathing controlled and synchronized to the movement—arched his spine backward until the curve of his body formed the shape of a perfect crescent moon. Then the muscles of his right thigh began to ache and tremble, and he felt a slight pain flare under his left shoulder blade.
    Once he could have accomplished these exercises with ease. Fragments of memory, jagged and transient, came to him. Slowly he straightened and stood, leaning on the balcony, allowing the images to form.
    In his mind he saw a tall building, lit by moonlight. There was a high parapet above sharp rocks far below. He saw himself standing on the parapet, then leaping and spinning to land in perfect balance. One wrong step, one tiny misjudgment and he would have plunged to his death.
    The image faded. Skilgannon continued to exercise, not pushing his body too hard, seeking instead to stretch the muscles rather than work them at this stage. Even so it was tiring, and after an hour he stopped.
    Donning a shirt of cream-colored linen and dark leather trousers, he pulled on a pair of soft leather ankle boots and walked out of the room, making his way toward the library Landis Khan had shown him on his first day. He saw several male servants in tunics of blue cloth. They moved past him with downcast eyes. It did not bother him. He had no wish to speak to anyone.
    In the library he continued his search through the oldest of the records. Stories of his own life had not proved as helpful to his memory as he had hoped. Apparently he had fought dragons at some point, and had owned a winged horse that flew above the mountains. He had also been gifted with a cloak that made him invisible to his enemies. Incredibly he was supposed to have been born in six different lands, to four different fathers and three separate mothers. He had been golden haired, black haired, bearded, and beardless. He had been tall, and short, immensely muscled, and yet slim and lithe.
    The agreements were few. He had owned two fighting swords that sat in a single scabbard. They were called the Swords of Night and Day. He had died in a battle to save a nation. He had been a general whose wife had died. He had also loved a goddess, mysterious and enigmatic. All agreed on this, though none could agree on her name. In some tales she was the goddess of death, in others the goddess of love, or wisdom, or war.
    Today he chose stories not of his own legends, but of the ancient lands. He was searching for details that would offer him links to a past he could not summon. Skilgannon carried a bundle of ancient scrolls to a window seat and slowly began to read them.
    The first of them brought no fresh insights. It told of a war among races he had no memory of, but the second, far older, talked of a people called the Drenai. Skilgannon felt his heartbeat quicken. A name came to him.
    Druss.
    He saw a powerful figure, in clothes of black and silver. Holding to the memory, he closed his eyes. Scenes flowed up from his subconscious. Druss the Axman, storming the stairs at the citadel, seeking . . . seeking . . . the child Elanin. Another face