Free The Seven Swords by Nils Johnson-Shelton Page A

the river. The rope sagged heavily in the middle, but both ends held and he reached the other side safely.
    Then Kay and Erik crossed, both without any hiccups. Once assembled, Artie, Kay, and Erik looked up the slope toward the towering wall of ancient trees and took off.
    Â 
    They’d been moving fast for about thirty minutes when Kay said, “I feel like we’re in the second Lord of the Rings movie!”
    Artie laughed and said, “Hey, at least we’re not hunting orcs.” He took a gulp of water from his canteen.
    â€œYou said it,” Kay replied, winking at her brother.
    Erik didn’t say anything. Since dragons existed, orcs probably did too. He hadn’t even thought of that. Erik didn’t want to meet an orc. Ever.
    The threesome kept trekking and eventually they crossed into the old forest. The woods were hushed and tranquil. All around them, towering firs and hemlocks reached up to a pale-blue evening sky that peeked through here and there.
    Artie stayed in front, followed by Erik, who held his heavy hammer across his body with both hands, and Kay brought up the rear. The soft ground was clear of underbrush and carpeted with rust-colored needles.
    Eventually they stopped in front of a massive fallen tree, its trunk at least ten feet in diameter. It smelled dank but pleasant. The deer’s tracks went right up to the tree and disappeared.
    â€œLooks like it walked through this thing, huh?” Kay said.
    â€œNaw, I think he jumped it,” Artie said. He pointed at the tracks behind him and added, “See here, how its tracks get farther apart, like it started to run?”
    â€œYou really think he could have cleared this?” Erik asked, slapping the tree’s damp bark.
    â€œMust’ve,” Artie said. As he stopped speaking, the silence of the woods overcame them. The forest seemed endless and empty. Then a loud twang, like a giant guitar string had been plucked, echoed through the woods, followed by a high-pitched squeal.
    A chill ran down Kay’s spine, and Artie felt it. The Kingfishers locked eyes. Kay drew Cleomede, and Artie pulled Flixith halfway out of its sheath.
    Erik, however, ignored the sounds and clambered over the tree. “C’mon,” he called. Artie and Kay followed and they dropped down the other side, landing behind a tangle of branches. Erik stepped forward and parted them like he was peeking at an audience from behind a curtain.
    About a hundred yards away, the great deer hung in the air by one of its hind legs. It was alive, but its hip looked horribly out of joint.
    It had been snared in a trap.
    Kay whispered, “Poor guy,” but Erik shushed her.
    Emerging from the trees came a thing that looked like a reindeer walking on its hind legs. It had a reindeer’s head, shaggy rack, and gray hide. But as it got closer, they saw boots. And gloves. And a belt.
    And it was smoking a pipe.
    It was the trapper. He walked under the deer and let out a long whistle, clearly impressed by his catch. Then he did a little jig and disappeared behind a tree.
    The stag was lowered until its horns just touched the ground. The trapper reemerged and spoke to the animal with clicks and coos. He bound its front hooves. Then he tied a rope to the stag’s horns and cinched this through the coil around the hooves, giving the animal a harsh crook in its neck. The man disappeared again and lowered the animal to the ground. Still talking to it, he gingerly relocated the stag’s hip and tied its rear feet together.
    Then he did something pretty incredible.
    He picked the thing up and threw it over his shoulders, and started to walk back from where he came.
    Artie, Kay, and Erik looked at each other in disbelief. The stag had to weigh at least a thousand pounds. The trapper was burly but didn’t look that strong. They remained quiet until he was out of sight, and then Kay whispered, “Now what?”
    Artie looked at Erik and said,