Free The Last Protector by Daniel C. Starr Page B

shining gold, jewel-encrusted guard. But there was no blade to this sword, only a gray iron stub that looked like it might have been broken off.
    Scrornuck took the sword-handle. It felt warm, soft yet firm, almost alive. When he gave it a tentative squeeze, it seemed to push back. “Grip it carefully,” the Master said. “Feel what it's saying to you. Close your eyes and squeeze it the way it wants to be squeezed.” Having no idea what to expect, Scrornuck complied. He felt the grip conform itself to his fingers, felt more warmth and a slight vibration, rather like a purring kitten.
    "Now look."
    Scrornuck opened his eyes and saw that an enormous blade had sprung from the sword-handle, at once transparent, glowing like fire and throbbing like something alive. “Demon weapon!” he hissed, dropping the sword and diving to the dirt in terror.
    The Master patiently picked up the sword-handle. “Get up, Mister Saughblade."
    Scrornuck crawled from his hiding place beneath a wagon and got back to his feet. “What—what is that thing?"
    The Master again handed Scrornuck the weapon. “A sword. Neither demonic or angelic; simply as good or evil as the one who commands it."
    Scrornuck felt the grip in his hands, warm, throbbing, almost alive. Again he squeezed it just so, letting its gentle pressure guide his fingers, and again the immense blade sprang forth, ripples of dark and light and color coursing across it. Tentatively, then with more confidence, he swung the weapon around, over his head, down by his feet. Compared to this weightless blade, even the gorgeous silver sword had been heavy and awkward. “It's beautiful."
    "It's much more than beautiful,” the Master said. “It is the last of its kind, the most powerful sword ever made, and it has chosen you to be its master."
    "Chosen me?"
    The Master nodded. “It works for the man it chooses, and no other.” Suddenly, without warning, he grabbed the old iron sword and swung it in Scrornuck's direction. Without thinking, Scrornuck moved his fingers. The magical blade curved and twisted, effortlessly slicing the iron sword in half. The longer piece fell to the ground with a soft clank as the Master smiled. “I told you it is powerful."
    Scrornuck stared. A sword that could cut through iron as if it were butter?
    "If you treat it well, it will show you some of the other things it can do.” The Master smiled a thin smile as he let the other half of the iron sword fall from his hand. “Well, Mister Saughblade, I believe you are now properly equipped for your quest. Goodbye. Use your new sword wisely.” With that he turned, walked up a short way and disappeared around the corner of the stable.
    Scrornuck stood for a moment, admiring the patterns of light that rippled across the enormous blade, then gently relaxed his grip and watched it vanish. He took a few steps in pursuit, but as he expected, when he reached the corner there was no sign of the Master.
    "It only works for you?” Nalia asked.
    Scrornuck handed her the sword-grip. “Try it."
    She concentrated, squeezed carefully, closed her eyes, moved her fingers, and after a minute's struggle caused a few inches of something dull and limp to dangle from the sword's iron stub-blade. “I give up,” she said.
    "You did as well as Jape,” Scrornuck said. “And he spent a few hours trying. Like the Master said, Ol’ Red only works for me.” He sat up and reached for another beer. “Now it's your turn. You must know some good yarns."
    "I'm afraid not.” He could hear the disappointment in her voice. “There are a few exciting stories from the old days, when Spafu was making the world, but since then it's been pretty dull. The sun comes up, the sun goes down, we practice, we hold our festivals and celebrations, we wait...” She sighed, low and long. “I don't want to go killing people or chopping heads off, but I wish I could do something exciting."
    "Wasn't last night pretty exciting?"
    "That was just a bar