The Seven Swords Read Free Page A

of lumber and turned off the saw. His ears rang a little from the noise, but this unpleasant sound was quickly replaced by a vigorous burst of birdsong.
    A lot of birdsong.
    Too much birdsong.
    The high-pitched vibrato got so loud that everyone had to cover their ears. Looking around, Artie realized that the surrounding oaks and maples were dripping with songbirds. It was as if they had simply materialized in the trees. Some were extremely colorful, but most were jet-black with little red tufts on the tops of their heads.
    Artie got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the back of Kay’s neck went cold. The siblings could feel each other’s unease—a special gift they shared. A slight breeze sifted through the yard. Kynder walked onto the patio to see what was going on, and as he did the birds stopped singing, as if following a command.
    Total silence reigned for a few moments, and then BOOM ! A blast of blue light sparked the middle of the yard, and the birds took wing away from the explosion, expanding outward in a ring.
    The blue light chased the birds and then fell back, gathering above the grass like a little supernova. It became very bright, forcing Artie to shut his eyes as a strong wind swept through, blowing leaves and sawdust everywhere.
    When the air around them settled, Artie cautiously opened his eyes.
    Collapsed amid a mess of building supplies was Merlin, a great spike of wood driven through his left thigh.
    â€œMerlin!” shouted Kay.
    Everyone rushed to the fallen wizard, and Lance gently rolled him onto his back. Kynder inspected the wound in his leg, and Kay asked, “Should we call nine-one-one?”
    â€œNo,” Merlin wheezed. His eyelids fluttered and his skin was ashen. His tattoos were blurred and faded, like they’d aged a thousand years.
    Artie stepped forward. Bedevere, fearing some unseen treachery, went to the shed and grabbed his claymore.
    â€œWhat do you need us to do?” Lance asked with a soldier’s urgency.
    â€œThere,” Merlin said, using his eyes to indicate a white canvas bag gripped tightly in his hand. “In there.”
    Kynder grabbed it and peered inside. “But it’s empty!”
    â€œReach in. A bottle. A wooden cane.”
    Kynder stuck his hand into the bag. What a wonder! It was full of furry things and slick things; hard things and gummy things; rocks, dirt, and leaves. Kynder felt small bones and claws, and sifted his hands through a mass of marbles. He thrust his whole arm into the thing, even though from the outside the bag was only about a foot long.
    â€œI can’t find them.” Kynder panted.
    â€œDeeper,” Merlin ordered. Kynder pushed farther into the bag. “There,” the wizard whispered.
    Kynder felt a cone-shaped bottle and a length of wood. He wrapped his fingers around both and yanked his arm out.
    The bottle was full of a brown, unappealing liquid. The piece of wood was a gray walking cane, the handle carved like a roosting owl, one eye shut, one open.
    Merlin stared at the liquid. Kynder pulled at the wax stopper, but it didn’t budge.
    â€œMr. Kingfisher, hold it out,” said Bedevere. Kynder did, and with a clean stroke Bedevere used his ginormous sword to slice the wax-covered top off the bottle.
    An unholy stench of rotten eggs, wet dog hair, and gym socks shot from the opening. Kynder held it at arm’s length, and everyone took a step back.
    â€œPut it to my lips, please,” Merlin said.
    Kynder did, and Merlin gulped down the elixir like it was chocolate milk. Merlin’s color returned, and he held his hand out for his cane. Kynder passed it to him and, with Lance’s help, Merlin sat up.
    â€œNow, Mr. Lance, please push that blasted thing through my leg,” Merlin said, indicating the piece of wood in his thigh.
    Lance nodded. One end of the shaft stuck out of the top of Merlin’s thigh by less than an inch, while the other end protruded