Free The Sword of Darrow by Hal Malchow Page B

village, every town, every city was in flames. She tried to run away, but she could not. The song of the bird was too strong.
    She awoke suddenly, stunned by what she had seen. Her eyes rose and she thought she saw Principeelia standing on the windowsill, but she blinked and the windowsill was empty. Then she knew.
    She rose to her feet and extended her arms. She summoned her memories of goodness and wrong. She called forth the goblin swordsman and, deep within, she showered him with forgiveness and love. And then she considered her father and the love she felt launched her power again.
    Inside her, a great force was raging. Barely able to stand upright, her body shook so hard that the chair rattled on the floor and across the ceiling the creatures and planets danced in the air. She looked toward the koowik and from her lips came a whistle, a low whistle with a slow melody that was rapturous and haunting.
    It was the song that had carried her into the forest.
    The koowik vanished from sight.
    The magic words were not words at all. They were music—the song of her precious little bird.

• 13 •
The Legend of Scodo

    T
he forest floor was wet and the recent rain had cleansed the air. The scents of flowers and new leaves were everywhere.
    Sesha was now a young woman. After almost ten years with Asterux, she had come to know the forest and enjoy its splendor. She had no fear of goblins or griesonauts or bat spiders. When danger approached, she simply made herself disappear.
    Today, enjoying the spring, she had wandered far from Asterux’s cabin. The road she walked was the road that the wagons traveled to and from the goblin fort. On both sides, patches of purple flowers carpeted the hillside between the trees. The sound of a songbird caught her ear. She turned and marched upward through the brush to listen.
    She gasped. Before her, in the high grass, was a body. Its shoulders were wide and its limbs thick and heavy. Its body, far bigger than that of a man, was covered with black scales. From its back emerged a tail, longer than its legs, and encased in the dark shell of an insect. At the end of the tail were two sharp points.
    “Are you alright?” Sesha asked, stepping back from the body.
    The body lay silent and still on the ground.
    She leaned over for a closer look. It was wearing a cloak, coarse and splotched with circles of blood. She lifted the cloak away from the body to reveal deep wounds that cut through the scales and into the back. She placed her ear to the body. There was breathing, but it was faint.
    She stood up to tear a cloth from her dress. Then she knew.
    “Scodo,” she cried. It was the scorpion man lying before her.
    Sesha knew little of healing but thought that perhaps her magic might mend his wounds. So she placed her hands on the creature’s back and summoned memories of goodness and found forgiveness and felt the power grow inside her. As her power grew, she felt the body stir beneath her hand. Suddenly, it lifted and rolled onto its back, staring up at Sesha.
    The scales merged together into a smooth flat sheet that covered its face, which was black except for two red eyes that glowed back at her with no movement or expression. Sesha had never spoken to the scorpion man. He was far too shy to address a princess. But now she did not hesitate at all.
    “You are Scodo, the great warrior of the Sonnencrest army. I thought you were dead or in the dungeon! What are you doing here in the forest? How did you escape?”
    “I just walked away,” replied Scodo in a calm voice. “What goblin wanted to take me prisoner? Think of the nightmares I might give the guards!”
    “Do you not remember me?” Sesha asked.
    “Should I?” responded the scorpion man.
    “I am,” she started, and then caught herself. “I am sure you wouldn’t. People forget me,” she stuttered. “Probably because I am so ugly.”
    “Don’t feel so sorry for yourself,” Scodo snapped back. “I’m no beauty either.”
    For