The Seven Swords by Nils Johnson-Shelton

that the sword was buried nearly to the hilt in the thick trunk. It looked to be in pretty bad shape. The exposed part was weatherworn and rusted and covered in several layers of calcified muck and splotchy lichens.
    Sami slapped the hilt and it didn’t move. Then he grabbed it in both hands and pulled on it as hard as he could, even going so far as to plant both feet on the trunk so he could push away from it like someone rappelling down a rock face.
    It didn’t budge.
    â€œGive it your best shot,” Sami said, stepping aside.
    Artie looked at Kay and Kay looked at Erik and Erik looked at the ground.
    â€œKay, why don’t you try first?” Artie suggested
    Kay shot her brother a look. “What, me?”
    â€œYes, you.” Artie liked the idea of working up to Erik’s big moment.
    â€œFine,” Kay said.
    Kay went to the sword and pulled at it halfheartedly, making a very fake grunting sound. As she stepped away she mumbled, “Yep, it sure is stuck.”
    Sami laughed quietly.
    â€œGreat; thanks for trying, Kay. Way to put your back into it,” Artie said sarcastically. “My turn.”
    â€œHave at it.”
    Artie stepped up to Gram and took it with both hands. Before he pulled, he thought about Cleomede and how it had been stuck in the stone and how he, Artie Kingfisher, had freed it. He started to pull. He pulled harder and harder. He got up on the tree like Sami had and pulled with all his might. Finally he stopped and took a deep breath. He looked at the sword. Nothing.
    Artie walked to Erik and put a hand on his shoulder. “You can do this,” Artie quietly insisted.
    Erik looked at Artie nervously. His eyes asked, But what if I can’t? Artie squeezed Erik’s shoulder and smiled.
    â€œGo on,” Artie said.
    â€œAll right,” Erik whispered.
    He marched to the tree. There was no way. Still, he reached out and wrapped his hand around the hilt, closed his eyes, and pulled.
    And nothing happened.
    â€œHa! I told you,” Sami exclaimed.
    â€œTry again; use both hands!” Artie suggested, his heart pounding.
    Erik did. And then his body started to jitter. This grew to a shake. This amplified to a vibration that made the edges of Erik’s body blur. The energy coursed through the hilt, to the blade, and into the tree. In a matter of seconds, every branch and leaf began to tremble and flutter. For an instant Erik was joined to the tree and vice versa, the sword their conduit.
    Then he stepped back and twisted his shoulders, and with him came the legendary dragon slayer Gram. The part of the blade that had been embedded in the tree was bright and silver and sharp. He stepped away from Barnstokk and uttered a proclamation in Swedish that he didn’t even understand. It was like the sword was speaking through him.
    Artie beamed and Kay yelped, “Woo-hoo!” while Sami fell to his knees and bleated, “I can’t— How?”
    Energy continued to run through Erik’s body like a freight train, rising from his feet, through his legs and chest, around his head, and then back down through his arms and finally out through Gram. The weapon shook so violently that Artie couldn’t understand how Erik managed to keep hold of it. Finally the blade lit up with a red glow, and a stream of light flew up and away from its tip. As the beam passed the tree, its branches shook one last time and then, all at once, it dropped all of its leaves save the highest one.
    Erik stood there, panting, in a shower of copper beech leaves. The forest was quiet, as if the trees themselves were staring down in wonder.
    Sami gathered himself enough to ask, “How did you do that?”
    Erik looked down on the woodsman, his nervousness gone, replaced by confidence and knowledge. Artie knew that Erik had just experienced something similar to what he had when he’d finally gotten Excalibur.
    Man, how Artie missed his own legendary