Sword Masters Read Free

"I asked you a question. What sort of a man are you?"
    Tarius silently caught the antagonizer's gaze and held it, a smile curling the Kartik lips ever so slightly.
    The red-headed boy stopped in mid stride. The cold black eyes of this wild stranger seemed to glare through him. He raised his fist even as a fear he couldn't explain gripped his very soul.
    "Go ahead; do it," Tarius hissed through clenched teeth.
    Although fear gripped the young man's throat like a vice, he could not deny this dare. He swung on the strange boy who challenged him in front of a room full of his peers.
    Tarius grabbed the much larger boy's fist mere inches from impact, twisted quickly, pushed back and brought him to his knees. Tarius grabbed the boy's elbow with his other hand, forced his arm straight and shoved down hard. The boy let out a scream, and Tarius stood away letting him fall to the floor.
    "You Kartik freak! You've broken my sword arm!" he screamed in pain.
    Some of the other boys moved in for a closer look. Not so close though that the stranger might get the idea that they were challenging him.
    Tarius looked up at them and gave them a wild, untamed look, and through clenched teeth hissed out. "I'm the sort of man who isn't afraid to fight for what I believe is right! I'm the sort of man that would just as soon kill you as put up with your crap."
    "Help me!" the boy on the floor screamed. "Someone help me! My arm is broken!"
    "It's not broken," Tarius assured him. "I'll put it back in place—if you apologize to the boy."
    "Apologize to a servant!"
    "Or I leave you like that," Tarius assured him.
    "I'm sorry," he spat in Harris's direction.
    "Your apology lacks sincerity," Tarius hissed.
    "For all the gods' sake. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
    Tarius put a foot in the wounded boy's armpit, grabbed his hand and gave a quick yank, pulling the dislocated arm back into place.
    The boy all but passed out from the immediate relief, but feeling better, he was mad all over again. He jumped up and glared at Tarius.
    "You used magic on me," he accused.
    "He used Simbala on you," a tall, thin boy said, edging from the back of the crowd. "It's a Kartik marshal art form." They all looked at him and he shrugged. "I've seen my father and my brothers practice it."
    With much mumbling they all went back to their unpacking. Tarius had picked the bed at the end against the wall, and not too surprisingly the bed next door was still empty. Suddenly the boy with knowledge of Simbala walked over, threw his stuff on the bed and started unpacking.
    "I'm Tragon," he said, turning and holding out his hand to Tarius. Tarius took the offered hand and shook it much in the same way he had shaken Darian's hand, and Tragon smiled. He was obviously taking the 'shaking' part literally.
    "My name is Tarius."
    Tragon laughed. "Everyone knows who you are already. My father fought with your father at the battle of Riksdale. My father is Kliton of Brakston Ridge."
    "I believe my father spoke of him," Tarius said. It was a lie. Jabon never talked of the men he fought with in the Jethrik, not by name anyway. They weren't his people any more than they were Tarius's, and while he cared for them as comrades in arms, he had never felt like he was a part of them. It was only their common cause that brought them together. A common enemy that Jabon couldn't fight on his own then, any more than Tarius could fight it alone now. The Amalites and their horrors were the world's problem, and their annihilation the duty of any decent fighter.
    "My father said your father slew five hundred Amalites at the battle of Riksdale," Tragon said.
    "I doubt it was that many," Tarius said with a slight smile.
    "Even half that many would be a great feat," Tragon said excitedly.
    Tarius looked at Tragon and realized suddenly that this rather handsome young man was neither afraid nor intimidated. He wasn't as ignorant as the others and so believed he had nothing to fear from Tarius. He seemed to want to be close