Морган Райс
The Gift of Battle
For Jake Maynard.
A true warrior.
“You come to me with a sword, a spear, and a javelin – but I come to you with the Name of the Lord, Master of Legions, God of the battalions.”
– David to GoliathI Samuel, 17:45
Copyright © 2014 by Morgan Rice
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Jacket image Copyright Photosani, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
About Morgan Rice
Morgan Rice is the #1 bestselling and USA Today bestselling author of the epic fantasy series THE SORCERER’S RING, comprising seventeen books; of the #1 bestselling series THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS, comprising eleven books (and counting); of the #1 bestselling series THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY, a post-apocalyptic thriller comprising two books (and counting); and of the new epic fantasy series KINGS AND SORCERERS. Morgan’s books are available in audio and print editions, and translations are available in over 25 languages.
Morgan loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.morganricebooks.com to join the email list, receive a free book, receive free giveaways, download the free app, get the latest exclusive news, connect on Facebook and Twitter, and stay in touch!
Select Acclaim for Morgan Rice
“A spirited fantasy that weaves elements of mystery and intrigue into its story line. A Quest of Heroes is all about the making of courage and about realizing a life purpose that leads to growth, maturity, and excellence….For those seeking meaty fantasy adventures, the protagonists, devices, and action provide a vigorous set of encounters that focus well on Thor's evolution from a dreamy child to a young adult facing impossible odds for survival… Only the beginning of what promises to be an epic young adult series.”
– Midwest Book Review (D. Donovan, eBook Reviewer)
“THE SORCERER’S RING has all the ingredients for an instant success: plots, counterplots, mystery, valiant knights, and blossoming relationships replete with broken hearts, deception and betrayal. It will keep you entertained for hours, and will satisfy all ages. Recommended for the permanent library of all fantasy readers.”
– Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos
“Rice’s entertaining epic fantasy [THE SORCERER’S RING] includes classic traits of the genre – a strong setting, highly inspired by ancient Scotland and its history, and a good sense of court intrigue.”
– Kirkus Reviews
“I loved how Morgan Rice built Thor’s character and the world in which he lived. The landscape and the creatures that roamed it were very well described… I enjoyed [the plot]. It was short and sweet… There were just the right amount of minor characters, so I didn’t get confused. There were adventures and harrowing moments, but the action depicted wasn’t overly grotesque. The book would be perfect for a teen reader… The beginnings of something remarkable are there…”
– San Francisco Book Review
“In this action-packed first book in the epic fantasy Sorcerer's Ring series (which is currently 14 books strong), Rice introduces readers to 14-year-old Thorgrin «Thor» McLeod, whose dream is to join the Silver Legion, the elite knights who serve the king…. Rice's writing is solid and the premise intriguing.”
– Publishers Weekly
“[A QUEST OF HEROES] is a quick and easy read. The ends of chapters make it so that you have to read what happens next and you don’t want to put it down. There are some typos in the book and some names are messed up, but this does not distract from the overall story. The end of the book made me want to get the next book immediately and that is what I did. All nine of the Sorcerer’s Ring series can currently be purchased on the Kindle store and A Quest of Heroes is currently free to get you started! If you are looking for a something quick and fun to read while on vacation this book will do nicely.”
– FantasyOnline.net
Books by Morgan Rice
KINGS AND SORCERERS
RISE OF THE DRAGONS (Book #1)
THE SORCERER’S RING
A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1)
A MARCH OF KINGS (Book #2)
A FATE OF DRAGONS (Book #3)
A CRY OF HONOR (Book #4)
A VOW OF GLORY (Book #5)
A CHARGE OF VALOR (Book #6)
A RITE OF SWORDS (Book #7)
A GRANT OF ARMS (Book #8)
A SKY OF SPELLS (Book #9)
A SEA OF SHIELDS (Book #10)
A REIGN OF STEEL (Book #11)
A LAND OF FIRE (Book #12)
A RULE OF QUEENS (Book #13)
AN OATH OF BROTHERS (Book #14)
A DREAM OF MORTALS (Book #15)
A JOUST OF KNIGHTS (Book #16)
THE GIFT OF BATTLE (Book #17)
THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY
ARENA ONE: SLAVERSUNNERS (Book #1)
ARENA TWO (Book #2)
THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS
TURNED (Book #1)
LOVED (Book #2)
BETRAYED (Book #3)
DESTINED (Book #4)
DESIRED (Book #5)
BETROTHED (Book #6)
VOWED (Book #7)
FOUND (Book #8)
RESURRECTED (Book #9)
CRAVED (Book #10)
FATED (Book #11)
Listen to THE SORCERER’S RING series in audio book format!
Now available on:
Amazon
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Chapter One
Thorgrin, standing on the violently rocking ship, looked out before him and slowly, in horror, began to realize what he had just done. He looked down in shock at his own hand, still gripping the Sword of the Dead, then looked up to see, but inches away, the face of his best friend, Reece, staring back at him, eyes wide open in pain and betrayal. Thor’s hands shook violently as he realized he had just stabbed his best friend in the chest and was watching him die before his eyes.
Thor could not understand what had happened. As the ship tossed and turned, the currents continued to pull them through the Straits of Madness, until finally, they emerged out the other side. The currents calmed, the ship leveled out, and the thick clouds began to lift as with one final burst, they exited into calm, still waters.
As they did, the fog that had enveloped Thor’s mind lifted, and he began to feel his old self, to see the world with clarity once again. He looked at Reece in front of him, and his heart broke as he realized it was not the face of an enemy, but of his best friend. He slowly realized what he had done, realized that he had been in the grips of something greater than himself, a spirit of madness he could not control, which had forced him to perform this horrible act.
“NO!” Thorgrin shouted, his voice broken with anguish.
Thor extracted the Sword of the Dead from his best friend’s chest, and as he did, Reece gasped and began to collapse. Thor chucked the sword away, not wanting to lay eyes upon it, and it landed with a hollow thud on the deck, as Thor sank to his knees and caught Reece, holding him in his arms, determined to save him.
“Reece!” he called out, crushed by guilt.
Thor reached out and pressed his palm against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. But he could feel the hot blood running through his fingers, could feel Reece’s life force ebbing out of him as he held him in his arms.
Elden, Matus, Indra, and Angel rushed forward, they, too, finally free from the grips of their madness, and they crowded around. Thor closed his eyes and prayed with all he had that his friend come back to him, that he, Thor, be given one chance to rectify his error.
Thor heard footsteps, and he looked up to see Selese rush forward, her skin more pale than he’d ever seen, her eyes aglow with a light that was other-worldly. She dropped to her knees before Reece, took him in her arms, and as she did, Thor let him go, seeing the glow surrounding her and remembering her powers as a healer.
Selese looked up at Thor, her eyes burning with intensity.
“Only you can save him,” she said urgently. “Place your hand on his wound now!” she commanded.
Thor reached out and placed a palm on Reece’s chest, and as he did, Selese laid her hand over his. He could feel the heat and power coursing through her palm, over his hand, and into Reece’s wound.
She closed her eyes and began to hum, and Thor felt a wave of heat rise up in his friend’s body. Thor prayed with all he had that his friend come back to him, that he be forgiven for whatever madness had driven him to do this.
To Thor’s great relief, Reece slowly opened his eyes. He blinked and looked up at the sky, and then slowly sat up.
Thor watched, amazed, as Reece blinked several times and looked down at his wound: it was entirely healed. Thor was speechless, overcome, in awe of Selese’s powers.
“My brother!” Thorgrin cried out.
He reached out and hugged him, and Reece, disoriented, slowly hugged him back as Thor helped him to his feet.
“You are alive!” Thor exclaimed, hardly daring to believe it, clasping his shoulder. Thor thought of all the battles they had been in together, all the adventures, and he could not have tolerated the idea of losing him.
“And why would I not be?” Reece blinked, confused. He looked all around at the wondering faces of the Legion, and he seemed puzzled. The others each stepped forward and embraced him, one by one.
As the others stepped forward, Thor looked around and took stock, and he suddenly realized, with horror, that someone was missing: O’Connor.
Thor rushed to the side rail and frantically searched the waters, remembering O’Connor, at the height of his madness, had leapt off the ship into the raging currents.
“O’Connor!” he yelled.
The others rushed up beside him and searched the waters, too. Thor stared down and craned his neck to look back at the Straits, at the raging red waters, thick with blood – and as he did, he saw O’Connor, flailing, being sucked in right at the border of the Straits.
Thor wasted no time; he reacted instinctively and leapt up onto the rail and then dove headfirst over the edge, into sea.
Submerged, startled by the heat of it, Thor felt how thick this water was, as if he were swimming through blood. The water, so hot, was like swimming in mud.
It took all of Thor’s strength to swim through the viscous waters, back up to the surface. He set his sights on O’Connor, who was beginning to sink, and he could see the panic in his eyes. He could also see, as O’Connor crossed the border into the open sea, the madness beginning to leave him.
Still, as he flailed, he was beginning to sink, and Thor knew that if he didn’t reach him soon, he would soon sink to the bottom of the Straits and never be found again.
Thor redoubled his efforts, swimming with all he had, swimming through the intense pain and exhaustion he felt in his shoulders. And yet, just as he neared, O’Connor began to sink down into the water.
Thor felt an injection of adrenaline as he watched his friend sink beneath the surface, knowing it was now or never. He burst forward, dove down underwater, and gave a great kick. He swam underwater, straining to open his eyes and see through the thick liquid; he could not. They stung too much.
Thor closed his eyes and drew upon his instincts. He summoned some deep part of himself that could see without seeing.
With another desperate kick, Thor reached out, groping the waters before him, and felt something: a sleeve.
Elated, he grabbed O’Connor and held on tight, amazed at the weight of him as he sank.
Thor yanked, as he turned and with all his might aimed back up for the surface. He was in agony, every muscle in his body protesting, as he kicked and swam for freedom. The waters were so thick, held so much pressure, his lungs felt as if they might burst. With each stroke of his hand, he felt as if he were pulling the world.
Just when he thought he would never make it, would sink back down to the depths with O’Connor and die here in this awful place, Thor suddenly broke the surface of the water. Gasping for air, he turned and looked all around and saw, with relief, that they had emerged on the other side of the Straits of Madness, in the open waters. He watched O’Connor’s head pop up beside him, saw him, too, gasping for air, and his sense of relief was complete.
Thor watched as the madness left his friend and the lucidity slowly returned to his eyes.
O’Connor blinked several times, coughing and gasping out the water, then looked to Thor, questioningly.
“What are we doing here?” he asked, confused. “Where are we?”
“Thorgrin!” called a voice.
Thor heard a splash in the water and he turned and saw a heavy rope land in the water beside him. He looked up and saw Angel standing up there, joined by the others at the rail of the ship, which had sailed back to meet them.
Thor grabbed it, grabbing O’Connor with his other hand, and as he did the rope moved, Elden reaching down with his great strength and yanking them both up the side of the hull. The other Legion joined in and pulled, one yank at a time, until Thor felt himself rising through the air and, finally, over the rail. They both landed on the deck of the ship with a thud.
Thor, exhausted, out of breath, still coughing up sea water, sprawled on the deck beside O’Connor; O’Connor turned and looked at him, equally exhausted, and Thor could see the gratitude in his eyes. He could see O’Connor thanking him. No words need be said – Thor understood. They had a silent code. They were Legion brothers. Sacrificing for each other was what they did. It was what they lived for.
Suddenly, O’Connor started laughing.
At first Thor was worried, wondering if the madness was still upon him, but then he realized that O’Connor was fine. He was just back to his old self. He was laughing from relief, laughing from joy at being alive.
Thor began to laugh, too, the stress behind him, and the others all joined in. They were alive; despite all odds, they were alive.
The other Legion stepped forward and grabbed O’Connor and Thor and yanked them back to their feet. They all clasped hands, embraced joyfully, their ship, finally, entering waters with smooth sailing ahead.
Thor looked out and saw with relief that they were sailing further and further from the Straits, and lucidity was descending over all of them. They had made it; they had passed through the Straits, albeit with a heavy price. Thor did not think they could survive a trip through it again.
“There!” called out Matus.
Thor turned with the others and followed his finger as he pointed – and he was stunned by the sight before them. He saw a whole new vista spread before them on the horizon, a new landscape in this Land of Blood. It was a landscape thick with gloom, dark clouds lingering low on the horizon, the water still thick with blood – and yet now, the outline of the shore was closer, more visible. It was black, devoid of trees or life, looking like ash and mud.
Thor’s heartbeat quickened as beyond it, in the distance, he spotted a black castle, made of what appeared to be earth and ash and mud, rising up from the ground as if it were one with it. Thor could feel the evil emanating off of it.
Leading to the castle was a narrow canal, its waterways lined with torches, blocked by a drawbridge. Thor saw torches burning in the windows of the castle, and he felt a sudden sense of certainty: with all his heart, he knew that Guwayne was inside that castle, waiting for him.
“Full sails!” Thor cried out, feeling back in control again, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.
His brothers jumped into action, hoisting the sails as they caught the strong breeze that picked up from behind and propelled them forward. For the first time since entering this Land of Blood, Thor felt a sense of optimism, a sense that they could really find his son and rescue him from here.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” came a voice.
Thor turned and looked down to see Angel smiling up at him, tugging on his shirt. He smiled, knelt down beside her, and hugged her.
“As I am you,” he replied.
“I don’t understand what happened,” she said. “One minute I was myself, and the next… it was like I did not know myself.”
Thor slowly shook his head, trying to forget.
“Madness is the worst foe of all,” he replied. “We, ourselves, are the one enemy we cannot overcome.”
She frowned, concerned.
“Will it ever happen again?” she asked. “Is there anything else in this place like that?” she asked, fear in her voice as she studied the horizon.
Thor studied it too, wondering the very same thing himself – when all too soon, to his dread, the answer came rushing out at them.
There came a tremendous splash, like the sound of a whale surfacing, and Thor was amazed to see the most hideous creature he’d ever seen emerging before him. It looked like a monster squid, fifty feet high, bright red, the color of blood, and it loomed over the ship as it shot up out of the waters, its endless tentacles thirty feet long, dozens of them spreading out in every direction. Its beady yellow eyes scowled down at them, filled with fury, as its huge mouth, lined with sharp yellow fangs, opened up with a sickening sound. The creature blotted out whatever light the gloomy skies had allowed, and it shrieked an unearthly sound as it began to descend right for them, its tentacles spread out, ready to consume the entire ship.
Thor watched it with dread, caught up in its shadow with all the others, and he knew they had gone from one certain death to the next.
Chapter Two
The Empire commander lashed his zerta again and again as he galloped through the Great Waste, following the trail, as he had been for days, across the desert floor. Behind him, his men rode on, gasping, on the verge of collapsing, as he had not given them a moment to rest the entire time they had been riding – even throughout the night. He knew how to drive zertas into the ground – and he knew how to drive men, too.
He had no mercy on himself, and he certainly had none for his men. He wanted them to be impervious to exhaustion and heat and cold – especially when they were on a mission as sacred as this. After all, if this trail actually led to where he hoped it might – to the legendary Ridge itself – it could change the entire fate of the Empire.
The commander dug his heels into the zerta’s back until it shrieked, forcing it ever faster, until it was nearly tripping over itself. He squinted into the sun, scrutinizing the trail as they went. He had followed many trails in his life, and had killed many people at the end of them – yet he had never followed a trail as enthralling as this one. He could feel how close he was to the greatest discovery in the history of the Empire. His name would be memorialized, sung of for generations.
They ascended a ridge in the desert, and he began to hear a faint noise growing, like a storm brewing in the desert; he looked out as they crested it, expecting to see a sandstorm coming their way, and he was shocked, instead, to spot a stationary wall of sand a hundred yards away, rising straight up from the ground into the sky, swirling and churning, like a tornado in place.
He stopped, his men beside him, and watched, curious, as it did not seem to move. He could not understand it. It was a wall of raging sand, but it did not come any closer. He wondered what lay on the other side. Somehow, he sensed, it was the Ridge.
“Your trail ends,” one of his soldiers said derisively.
“We cannot pass through that wall,” said another.
“You have led us to nothing but more sand,” said another.
The commander slowly shook his head, scowling back with conviction.
“And what if there lies a land on the other side of that sand?” he retorted.
“The other side?” a soldier asked. “You are mad. It is nothing but a cloud of sand, an endless waste, like the rest of this desert.”
“Admit your failure,” said another soldier. “Turn back now – or if not, we shall turn back without you.”
The commander turned and faced his soldiers, shocked at their insolence – and saw contempt and rebellion in their eyes. He knew he had to act quickly if he were to quash it.
In a fit of sudden rage, the commander reached down, grabbed a dagger from his belt, and swung it backwards in one quick motion, lodging it in the soldier’s throat. The soldier gasped, then fell backwards off his zerta and hit the ground, a fresh pool of blood collecting on the desert floor. Within moments, a swarm of insects appeared out of nowhere, covering his body and eating it.
The other soldiers now looked to their commander in fear.
“Is there anyone else who wishes to defy my command?” he asked.
The men stared back nervously, but this time said nothing.
“Either the desert will kill you,” he said, “or I will. It’s your choice.”
The commander charged forward, lowering his head, and cried a great battle cry as he galloped right for the sand wall, knowing it might mean his death. He knew his men would follow, and a moment later he heard the sound of their zertas, and smiled in satisfaction. Sometimes they just had to be kept in line.
He shrieked as he entered the tornado of sand. It felt like a million pounds of sand weighing down on him, chafing his skin from every direction as he charged deeper and deeper into it. It was so loud, sounding like a thousand hornets in his ears, and yet still he charged, kicking his zerta, forcing it, even as it protested, deeper and deeper inside. He could feel the sand scraping his head and eyes and face, and he felt as if he might be torn to bits.
Yet still he rode on.
Just as he was wondering if his men were right, if this wall led to nothing, if they would all die here in this place, suddenly, to the commander’s great relief, he burst out of the sand and back into daylight, no more sand chafing him, no more noise in his ears, nothing but open sky and air – which he had never been so happy to see.
All around him, his men burst out, too, all of them chafed and bleeding like he, along with their zertas, all looking more dead than alive – yet all of them alive.
And as he looked up and out before him, the commander’s heart suddenly beat faster as he came to a sudden stop at the startling sight. He could not breathe as he took in the vista, and slowly but surely, he felt his heart swell with a sudden sense of victory, of triumph. Majestic peaks rose straight up into the sky, forming a circle. A place that could only be one thing:
The Ridge.
There it sat on the horizon, shooting up into the air, magnificent, vast, stretching out of sight on either side. And there, at the top, gleaming in the sunlight, he was amazed to see thousands of soldiers in shining armor, patrolling.
He had found it. He, and he alone, had found it.
His men came to an abrupt stop beside him, and he could see them, too, looking up at it in awe and wonder, their mouths agape, all of them thinking the same thing he did: this moment was history. They would all be heroes, known for generations in Empire lore.
With a broad smile, the commander turned and faced his men, who now looked at him with deference; he then yanked on his zerta and turned it back around, preparing to ride back through the sand wall – and all the way, without stopping, until he reached the Empire base and reported to the Knights of the Seven what he personally had discovered. Within days, he knew, the entire force of the Empire would descend upon this place, the weight of a million men bent on destruction. They would pass through this sand wall, scale the Ridge, and crush those knights, taking over the final remaining free territory of the Empire.
“Men,” he said, “our time has come. Prepare to have your names etched in eternity.”
