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

Max said. “Knowledge and skill have no bearing. The dice are cast and everything has changed for you, Michael. Question is: will you accept the change? Our lives depended on it.”
    Max glanced at Baldwin. “We leave in the morning.”
     

C HAPTER 6
    Destinies
    Michael collapsed onto the bed the moment Stren closed the door. General Baldwin had dismissed everyone except Max and instructed Stren to see them to their rooms. Michael stayed in the garrison on occasion, but the dignitaries’ guestrooms were unfamiliar to him. The furniture was more ornate than any other in the garrison. He inspected the hand carved bedposts, intertwining vines spiraling up and noted the washstand and wardrobe had matching patterns. Decently worked, but not impressive. Then again, he was critical of such things.
    The dignitaries’ quarters were not far removed from General Baldwin’s, the reason Michael was assigned to them, but the walk had felt like they were on the other side of the fortress. No one spoke on the way. Falon openly stared at him in disbelief, but Garen had only managed sideways glances Michael felt more than saw.
    He pulled the Sword out of its scabbard to look at the blade, double-edged with a broad fuller running down its length. A product of crafting, like General Baldwin’s master blade, and virtually indestructible. But it felt different than Hothfyre. It felt familiar, like a prized heirloom being returned. No, that did not quite express it. It was more like regaining your hearing or sight. It felt like a part of him rather than a possession. Nothing had ever made him feel complete like swinging a hammer and building things for people. Holding the Sword made him realize how incomplete he had truly been.
    “This is crazy!” He slid the Sword back into the scabbard forcefully and laid it aside. He raked his fingers through his hair and slowly wiped his fingers down his face. “I’m crazy.”
    He set the Sword before him, slowly turning it on its tip, inspecting the intricate artisanship from every angle. Michael’s eyes widened, at first glance he had thought the talons were eagle but now he realized they were dragon. The wolf’s head was crafted so intricate he thought he could hear it howling at the moon. The round pommel with a lion’s head carved on each side made the perfect counterbalance for the blade. The hand and a half hilt was wrapped in an unfamiliar material Michael suspected offered an excellent grip wet or dry. In craftsmanship, the Sword had no equal Michael had ever seen. Embedded in the ricasso of the blade, just before the quillions, rested the Eye.
    “Perhaps I’m dreaming,” Michael said. “Perhaps it’s all a fevered delusion.” He touched his forehead. Max said the slightest wound from a nightstalker could cause a fever and...Michael felt his simple life slipping away.
    He fingered the scrollwork of the scabbard absently, staring deeply into the Eye.
    “I’m no king,” he whispered. “I haven’t been outside Timmaron much less the Ma’ Shal Dar. What do I know of this business? It’s not who I am.”
    Bright light filled his mind materializing into the face of a beautiful woman looking at him from above as if he were lying down. He could see the blue sky behind her, outlining her blonde hair. She smiled at him; a warm, tender smile filled with love, but marred by tears streaming down her face. As quickly as the vision came, it was gone, leaving him staring at the Eye.
    An incessant rapping at the door brought him out of his trance. Opening the door, Michael found Garen with his fist raised for another barrage of knocks.
    “Busy?” Garen asked somewhat perturbed.
    “No. Why?”
    “I’ve been knocking long enough for you to walk the garrison before answering.”
    “Sorry, I was...um...thinking.”
    “Oh. Think I could come in?”
    “What, you’re not afraid of me anymore?” Michael snapped.
    Garen looked down at his feet. “Yeah, um, I’m sorry about that. I’m