Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1) Read Free

Imperial visitors recognize and identify the elderly man as Swordmaster Brioude. Steg stepped forward and bowed his head.
    “Master, your presence honors me.”
    “Young Steg, what mischief are you up to now? I know, I have been told your challenge was necessary, but perhaps some of the circumstances could have been avoided. Unless—” He peered at the major. “Yes, I see. Very well. Steg, my young friend, I’ve been waiting for a suitable occasion for this.” He reached for the black sword carried by one of his assistants and handed it to Steg.
    “Here. Ebony is yours. Take it. Honor it. I’m a frail old man and will not use it again. The sword is now keyed to you, to your DNA.”
    Steg was surprised at the unexpected gift. Almost reluctantly he accepted the proffered sword. Brioude appeared to falter and sway, and his two assistants rushed to steady him. Steg momentarily was speechless, his throat tight. The words of the Swordmaster stunned him. The Acolytes had re-keyed Ebony; all the hilt-hidden bio-nanite and micronic protective technology was now focused, not on the Swordmaster, but on him, Steg de Coeur. As he held the sword in both hands, he understood the presentation portended more than a need to defeat his Imperial opponent.
    “But Swordmaster, I cannot—” he began, as questions raced through his mind.
    “Nonsense. We have been waiting for the opportunity. I have been the custodian—you are of the right line to wield it as intended. I repeat—take it, use it with honor. I’ll wait and watch from over here.” He moved away with the help of his assistants.
    Steg unsheathed the weapon. His Homeworld audience watched in silence. All knew of the general history of the sword, although few had indeed been privileged to wield the weapon itself. According to rumor it had been constructed for the First Earl and used by him in battle against star pirates and invaders. Steg, with the Swordmaster’s consent, had previously examined the etched patterns along the blade, and had translated the coded patterns into a graphic and detailed dramatic history of the weapon and its owners over the centuries, validating most of the rumors.
    Now he gripped the black hilt and felt a sudden flow of power. His head throbbed, his vision blurred; for a moment he was unable to see anything at all. Then his head cleared, his vision returned. He relaxed. Ebony was his. He was ready.
    “Gentlemen.” The drill sergeant’s firm voice drew the attention of the small groups of onlookers. “Ten minutes have passed. Are you ready?”
    Thpmas looked first at Steg, who nodded. He then turned to the Imperial visitor. “And you, sir?”
    Marius also nodded.
    The drill sergeant again withdrew from the marked drill square. Steg noted the small stunner in his hand.
    “The rules are known to you both. I will repeat the important points, which I will enforce. At first blood you will separate. If honor has been satisfied the duel is over. The challenger has the right to make that determination. If honor has not been satisfied the duel will continue. Quarter will be given at the cry. Any infringement of these rules will result in arrest of the defaulter. You now may proceed.”
    “Ready for your lesson, barbarian?”
    Steg hung his head in parody of a formal bow. “You honor me, oh champion.”
    The visitor executed the formal engagement salute with polished ease. Steg acknowledged to himself that he faced an experienced and capable foe. He recalled the traditional challenge of the Cazanae, aliens who had visited Homeworld and had shared their skills and techniques. The Cazanae were swordmasters, one and all, and even the Master Brioude acknowledged their abilities far surpassed his own. Steg spun and cartwheeled across the square, duplicating the Cazanae challenge, Ebony’s black blade flashing counter to each spin and wheel. With each action he increased the height of his leap until at the finale he was six feet above the floor, the