Free The Lore Of The Evermen (Book 4) by James Maxwell Page A

comes.”
    “We will come.”
    Jehral glanced away and then turned back, his expression anxious . “Ella, I know about the kalif’s desire. I wish to say: do what your heart demands. I will always be your friend regardless, and the kalif will help your people if you call.”
    Ella knew that to Jehral these weren’t just words. The Hazaran’s strong sense of honor gave weight to the statement. She stammered a reply.
    “My orders are to turn back now, but I don’t like leaving you like this,” Jehral said.
    “I’ll be fine,” Ella said. One of Jehral’s men held Ella’s horse. “Thank you for the horse. It’s hard being out of touch.”
    “Fare you well, and salut, Ella,” Jehral said. He called to his men. “Draw up! We’ll lead our horses back down the mountain until we’re past the rocks.”
    “Wait, Jehral,” Ella said. “I almost forgot.”
    She once more reached into her workbag and took out the scabbard lying beside the rods. Walking over, she handed it to a surprised Jehral.
    “This is for you.”
    A sword rested snugly in the long scabbard like a hand in a glove. Jehral held the hilt of the curved scimitar in one hand and the scabbard in the other as he drew the blade six inches, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw the symbols on the shining steel.
    “I had Ilathor find the blade for me. He said it’s as fine as his own. Do you know the Larbi word for the desert rose?”
    Jehral opened his mouth.
    “No, don’t say it now,” Ella said.
    “Al-maia,” she knew he’d been about to say.
    “Say this word to activate the sword. To deactivate it, say the Larbi name for the dust storm.” Ella grinned. “Some Larbi words are derived from the runic language. I hope that it keeps you safe. I don’t know when we will next meet, but I hope it will be under favorable circumstances. Farewell!”
    Ella inserted a foot into her stirrup and grabbed hold of the pommel to pull herself up onto her horse’s back. She looked out over her forested home and past; the distant ocean filled her with dread.
    Ella kicked her horse forward and waved.
    As she rode, Ella pictured the devastation of Shar and recalled Miro’s vivid descriptions of the fates of Veldria and Gokan. The enemy would come with an armada of ships. They would have black powder, and they would have revenants.
    It had been too long since Ella had been to the Academy of Enchanters. She’d been busy building the new machines at Mornhaven and then in Seranthia for Killian’s coronation and the Chorum. Though she wasn’t on the best terms with High Enchanter Merlon, she looked forward to once more seeing the Green Tower and the Great Court.
    It was time for Ella to do her part and to create some weapons of her own.
     

7
    Tapel ducked a blow from the son of a prosperous merchant and then countered with a clumsy thrust. He tried to shut out the calls of encouragement and derision from the boys circled around him but was conscious of their watching eyes. Tapel was desperate to make a good impression.
    All the boys training at the Pens in Sarostar knew Rogan Jarvish was married to Tapel’s mother. He couldn’t think of anything worse than embarrassing himself, but these boys had all been training ever since they could hold a sword. If it weren’t for Bladesinger Bartolo’s private instruction, he wouldn’t have lasted as long as the four blows struck so far in this spar.
    Tapel took a step back, shifting one foot behind the other in the way he’d been taught. His opponent came forward to meet him and raised his sword as if to strike. Tapel lifted his practice sword to parry, but instead of striking, the merchant’s son kicked Tapel hard in the side of his knee.
    Tapel winced but managed to stay on his feet. Another feint then became a real blow, and Tapel’s arm numbed at the shock of the two wooden swords colliding. Tapel couldn’t believe the strength of the blow. His opponent was three years younger than him.
    Some of the boys