Free Keeper of the Eye (The Eye of the Sword Book 1) by Mark Shane Page A

Baldwin said raising an eyebrow. His voice was ice and Max knew it could get colder.
    “Michael must reclaim his throne and protect the well in Dalarhan. I had hoped to return him in my own timing, but tonight’s events have forced my hand. We have to move quickly. We’ll be leaving in the morning.”
    “Leaving!” Michael and Baldwin said together, Michael’s surprise a stark contrast to Baldwin’s retort.
    “You’re not going anywhere, especially not on some foolish crusade,” Baldwin said with a wave of his hand, pointing at the window.
    “The same warlock who sent those nightstalkers will soon learn of Michael’s existence,” Max shot back. “If we don’t leave, he will come, creating a wake of destruction in his path.”
    “We have dealt with magichae before,” Baldwin said. “We threw them back during the Sarlon War. We can do so again.”
    “The Sarlons were not warlocks hell bent on ripping open the underworld. The Brotherhood will make the Sarlon War look like a skirmish. We cannot sit here and hide any longer.”
    “The king has outlawed magic,” Baldwin replied firmly. “His decree was carried by those men you helped today. I should be taking you into custody.”
    “You would arrest us?” Max couldn’t hide the hurt.
    Baldwin stared him in the eye for a long moment before glancing away. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
    Max picked up the Sword of Kings by the scabbard, holding it toward Michael. “Draw the Sword.”
    Michael glanced between the Sword and Max nervously. “This is absurd, Max.”
    Max’s glare could melt stone. “Draw the Sword, Michael.”
    “Max, I’m a carpenter, not a—”
    “You’re a king!” Max bellowed. “You’re an Ashguard. Third generation chosen by the Eye. Your parents gave their lives so you could survive. Do not dishonor them now. Draw the Sword. Take your rightful place.”
    Michael moved his hand toward the Sword then pulled it back.
    Max understood his apprehension. Drawing the Sword, connecting with the Eye, would change him, but there was no time for coddling. No time for Michael to deny his true calling. “A sword is as much a part of your life as a hammer. What’re you afraid of? Did A’lan Trommel raise a coward?” Max leaned closer, the hilt of the Sword looming before Michael. “You’ve drawn swords all your life. What’s one more?” The last words sounded like a challenge.
     
    ***
     
    Michael’s chair fell back as he stood up, face red with anger. No one accused his father of such failure. He was no coward. Drawing the Sword would change nothing. He promised himself. He grasped the hilt, freeing it from the scabbard in a smooth motion and the Eye awoke from its long slumber, bathing the room in purple light, proclaiming its Keeper once again.
    Michael faintly saw what happened around him. The moment he brought the Sword to bear, he felt like he had been pushed into a cold mountain spring. The chill swept through him as a torrent of power washed him away to a place void of everything but blackness. The Sword floated tip down before him. The only light in the void was the Eye radiating purple.
    “It has been a long time, Keeper. There is much work at hand. Prepare yourself.”
    The torrent subsided, and Michael found himself back in General Baldwin’s quarters. He looked around the room. All eyes were fixed on him.
    “What...what did you say?” he stammered to Max.
    “It has been a long time, Keeper.” Max pointed to the magical gem. “Shaladon needs you.”
    Michael’s eyes followed his finger to the Eye, the purple glow receding into the black depths of the gem. “I don’t know what to do. I know nothing about the Eye except old legends.” He tried to place the Sword on the table but found he did not truly want to let it go. With determined effort, he sheathed the Sword, yet his hand remained on the hilt. “Why me?” he asked weakly.
    “The Eye chooses its Keeper based on the quality of the heart,”