by Morgan Rice
He leaned back and roared in agony.
Thor heard a noise, felt something lift, and he raised his wrists and stared at them in shock: the Akdon shackles snapped.
They dropped harmlessly from his wrists, and landed on the floor with a clang.
Thor looked up at Andronicus, and saw his own eyes looking down at him.
“Father,” Thor said, feeling a new strength begin to well within him.
Andronicus smiled wide with satisfaction.
“My son.”
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Kendrick felt a renewed sense of optimism as he rode beside Bronson and Erec. Ever since Bronson’s arrival, they had wiped out the Empire division. Together, they had all crossed the valley, their thousands of men merging seamlessly with one another. The size of their forces had doubled, thanks to Bronson, and momentum was finally on their side.
Kendrick knew that they owed Bronson a great debt. Bronson would have a friend in him for life now, and if they all ever survived this, Kendrick would make sure Bronson was given a position of honor and power. He marveled at how wrong they had all been about him. He should have known all along that it was his sister, Luanda, who had duped him. She had always been that way: conniving, power-hungry, and willing to stop at nothing until she had her way. Much, in a way, like Gareth.
With their newfound momentum, Kendrick felt they had a renewed chance to burst through enemy lines, rescue Thorgrin, and get him out. They had weakened the Empire army, or at least a sliver of it, a sliver wide enough to allow them to achieve their goal. Their plan was working. Now, before the Empire could regroup, all they needed was to press through the crack in the men they had created.
Kendrick recalled the olden days, when King MacGil had been alive; when the Silver had been all together, there was nothing in the world that could stop them. He felt something like the olden days returning once again, and felt that they were on the verge of achieving one of the greatest conquests of their lives, one that would be sung of for generations.
The valley narrowed, leading them on a path between two steep cliffs, and as they rounded a bend, a new vista opened up before them—and Kendrick’s heart fell.
Blocking off their path in the narrow valley, facing them in combat, waiting to ambush them, were tens of thousands of men. More Empire soldiers than he had ever seen. These were led by thousands more. Men he recognized at once from their armor, from their banners.
Tirus’ men.
At first, Kendrick was confused. Why would Tirus’ men be joined with the Empire’s, one unified force facing him? Then he realized: they had been sold out by Tirus.
As all of his men came to a sudden stop, Kendrick sat there on his horse, dumbfounded, hardly able to breathe. Tirus sat there, grinning back with a huge look of satisfaction. The battlefield was thick with a tense silence of anticipation.
Kendrick finally cleared his throat and called out to Tirus across the battlefield:
“You have betrayed the better half of the MacGils,” Kendrick called out to him.
“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!!”
COMING SOON….
Book #8 in the Sorcerer’s Ring
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)
Click below to download these books on Amazon now!
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