by Morgan Rice
“Whoever said you were the better half?” Tirus answered.
“Why have you betrayed us?” Erec asked.
“You MacGils have always been fools,” Tirus called back. “You take men for their word. You still believe in chivalry. And that is your great downfall. I believe in gold. It hasn’t failed me yet.”
“We were gracious to you,” Ere called out. “Gwendolyn offered you control of the Northern half of the Ring.”
Tirus beamed widely.
“But Luanda offered us the entire Western Kingdom of the Ring. Her sister, it seems, is the smarter of the two.”
“Does your word mean nothing, then?” Kendrick called out.
Tirus smiled back.
“It does,” he answered. “But not nearly as much as gold.”
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Mycoples thrashed furiously against the Akdon net that entangled her, unable to flap her wings, to release her claws, to arch back her neck and breathe fire. Filled with rage, she thrashed again and again, trying her best to breathe or at least claw her handlers. Dozens of Empire soldiers grabbed onto the rope trailing the net and dragged her, thrashing, towards the long plank leading to a ship.
Mycoples scraped against the white sand of the Empire beach, feeling helpless for the first time in her life. The Empire ship was looming before her eyes, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Mycoples closed her eyes and saw Thorgrin, her master. The one person left in the world that she cared for. She tried to summon him, to share his thoughts as she often did.
But as she closed her eyes, she saw Thorgrin in a darkened building, beside his father. She saw him transforming. He was becoming something else. He was no longer the same man she once knew.
Mycoples’ heart broke. Thorgrin, the one she would die for, was fading away from her.
Mycoples arched back her neck and shrieked to the heavens, again and again. It was a shriek so piercing that it shattered the ship’s mast. But shriek as she did, nothing could prevent her from being dragged on board, tied down to this ship, and taken far, far away from here.
Thor, she thought. Save me.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Gwendolyn shivered against the cold and lowered her head against the snow as she walked with Steffen, Aberthol, and Alistair, with Krohn whining by her side, the group heading ever-deeper into the wood. A snowstorm had picked up, whipping large flakes into her face, and she clutched her furs around her shoulders, all of them shivering violently against the freezing gale. Icy snow clung to everything and it had become an effort to walk. The deeper they went, the more Gwendolyn was starting to wonder if Aberthol had been right all along, if this was a journey they could never fulfill.
As the snow grew thicker, her legs heavier, the wind so loud she could hardly hear Krohn’s panting beside her, finally, they turned a bend and Gwen saw light up ahead, peeking through the thick forest. With renewed hope, they marched faster, and they all came to the very precipice of the wood.
They stepped forward, out into the open, and were met with a gale of wind even stronger. The world opened up before them, a world of white, desolate, never-ending.
Before them lay the great divide of the Canyon, and spanning it, the Northern Crossing. It was a place Gwendolyn had heard about, but had never gone herself. It was spanned by a narrow footbridge, wide enough to hold one person at a time, shaped in a high arch, rising up over the Canyon like a rainbow. On the far side of the Canyon, there was a wall of white. Snow whipped about in a frenzy, mixed with waves of fog that rose up. Indeed, as the footbridge arched down toward the other side, it was entirely covered in ice, hanging below and off its sides.
They all stopped and stared in wonder. Krohn whined.
“The Netherworld,” Aberthol said. “A world of ice and snow and desolation. A world of illusions and traps.”
Gwendolyn swallowed.
“No one has ever crossed and returned,” Aberthol added.
Gwendolyn stared out into the witness, the desolation, and knew it would be a long, hard quest. Perhaps an impossible one. She did not know if she would be able to even find Argon, and if she did, she had no idea if she’d be able to free him. Most of all, she knew that she would probably not even survive this journey herself.
Yet despite all of this, Gwendolyn had no doubt in her mind. She thought only of Thorgrin. She had to save him. Whatever it took. However remote, however impossible.
“Well,” she said, turning to Aberthol, “there has to be a first.”
Aberthol turned to her.
“Are you certain, my lady?” he asked softly.
They all stared at her, awaiting her answer.
She put her hands on her hips and stared out confidently.
“More certain than I’ve ever been of anything in my life,” Gwendolyn replied.
With that, she took her first step, heading across the empty plane, into the howling winds, towards the iced-over footbridge, fully prepared to enter the abyss of the Netherworld.
CHAPTER FORTY
Thorgrin, free of his shackles, dressed again, feeling stronger than he’d ever had, walked together with Andronicus up a small knoll, the two of them heading towards the high point of the camp. As they crested the top they looked out together, and there sat the Empire army, a half-million soldiers looking back.
The Empire soldiers stared back in suspense, waiting. Andronicus stood beside Thorgrin, father and son. Thor was now fully dressed in the clothing of the Empire, wearing the same black and gold, the same uniform of his father, his breastplate emblazed with their symbol: a lion with an eagle in its mouth. Thor’s eyes were cold and hard, and as he looked out, he looked more like his father than ever. He was unrecognizable from the boy he once was.
Thor stood atop the hill, gripping his new sword, the one that had once belonged to his father, long and black and evil, with a silver hilt, glistening in the scarlet sun like a snake ready to strike.
“MEN OF THE EMPIRE!” Andronicus yelled out. “Meet your new commander. My son. Thornicus!”
Thorgrin stepped forward and looked down. Then he raised his new sword high above his head with a single arm.
There came a huge shout of approval, and Thor drank it in. He was ready to lead these men, to crush the Ring. He was ready to embrace who he really was. He was ready to do as his father commanded him. He was ready for the final destruction of the Ring.
“Thornicus!” echoed the army, a half million voices rising to the sky.
Thor turned slowly, raising the sword ever higher.
“THORNICUS!”
“THORNICUS!!”
About Morgan Rice
Morgan Rice is the #1 Bestselling author of THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS, a young adult series comprising eight books, which has been translated into six languages.
Morgan is also author of the #1 Bestselling THE VAMPIRE LEGACY, a young adult series comprising two books and counting.
Morgan is also author of the #1 Bestselling ARENA ONE and ARENA TWO, the first two books in THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY, a post-apocalyptic action thriller set in the future.
Morgan is also author of the #1 Bestselling epic fantasy series THE SORCERER’S RING, comprising seven books and counting.
Morgan loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.morganricebooks.com to stay in touch.
Select Acclaim for Morgan Rice
“Grabbed my attention from the beginning and did not let go…. This story is an amazing adventure that is fast paced and action packed from the very beginning. There is not a dull moment to be found.”
—Paranormal Romance Guild (regarding Turned)
“An ideal story for young readers. Morgan Rice did a good job spinning an interesting twist…Refreshing and unique, has the classic elements found in many Young Adult paranormal stories. Easy to read but extremely fast-paced…. Recommended for anyone who likes to read soft paranormal romances. Rated PG.”
—The Romance Reviews (regarding Turned)
“Jam packed with action, romance, adventure, and suspense. Get your hands on this one and fall in love all over again.”
—vampirebooksite.com (regarding Turned)
“A great plot, and this especially was the kind of book you will have trouble putting down at night. The ending was a cliffhanger that was so spectacular that you will immediately want to buy the next book, just to see what happens.”
—The Dallas Examiner (regarding Loved)
“Morgan Rice proves herself again to be an extremely talented storyteller….This would appeal to a wide range of audiences, including younger fans of the vampire/fantasy genre. It ended with an unexpected cliffhanger that leaves you shocked.”
—The Romance Reviews (regarding Loved)
Books by Morgan Rice
THE SORCERER’S RING
A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1)
A MARCH OF KINGS (Book #2)
A FEAST OF DRAGONS (Book #3)
A CLASH OF HONOR (Book #4)
A VOW OF GLORY (Book #5)
A CHARGE OF VALOR (Book #6)
A RITE OF SWORDS (Book #7)
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)
THE VAMPIRE LEGACY
RESURRECTED (Book #1)
CRAVED (Book #2)
COMING SOON….
Book #8 in the Sorcerer’s Ring
Click below to download these books on Amazon now!
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Please visit Morgan’s site, where you can join the mailing list, hear the latest news, see additional images, and find links to stay in touch with Morgan on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads and elsewhere:
www.morganricebooks.com
Copyright
Copyright © 2013 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.
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