by Morgan Rice
And he was losing.
Thor screamed as he sank to his knees, feeling like tearing off his own skin, his head splitting, the chanting growing louder and louder inside his head as the boat rocked more violently. Thor felt as if he had to kill something—anything—to make it stop.
Thor looked down and saw himself gripping the hilt of the Sword of the Dead, squeezing it and letting it go, squeezing and letting go, his hand almost moving on its own accord. As he examined it, he saw the small faces on the hilt begin to move, frowning, as if the sword itself were coming alive. The sword, too, Thor realized, was being affected by these straits of madness.
Thor found himself drawing the sword from its sheath, against his will; he tried to put it back with all his might, but he was unable to. The Sword gripped him, and the madness was commanding him. Thor was burning to kill whatever foe he could, to make it all stop.
But the problem was, there was no foe. There was nothing but air.
Thor heard a shout, and as he turned, he could not believe what he saw: there went O’Connor, running across the ship, screaming—and then, jumping up onto the rail and leaping off one side, diving through the air.
“O’CONNOR!” Thor shouted.
But it was too late. There was nothing Thor could do but watch, helplessly, as O’Connor dove over the edge, head-first, plunging a good thirty feet toward the red raging waters below. O’Connor reached up and flailed before being immediately swept away by them—then sucked down beneath the surface.
No one came to his help—all of them, including Thor, too preoccupied with their own private hells. Soon, O’Connor’s screams stopped, and Thor felt an unspeakable agony as he knew they had just lost a Legion member forever.
Thor was burning to jump in and save him, but he could not. And as he tried with all his might to re-sheath his sword, he could not do that, either. His hands shook with the effort—but it was stronger than he.
Suddenly, to Thor’s horror, he realized he was aiming the tip of the sword at himself, at his own heart. His hands shook as he realized he was going to kill himself.
Thor sensed motion and looked up to see Reece walking toward him, battling himself, sheathing and unsheathing his sword, a pained, confused look on his face. For a moment Reece seemed to get a hold of himself, to become stronger than whatever it was.
“Be strong, Thorgrin!” Reece shouted out, above the din of the wind and the raging sea. “We can fight this. We are stronger than this!”
Thor tried to hear his friend’s words, but the chanting within him grew too loud, the drumbeat of rage, egging him on.
“We are almost there, Thorgrin!” Reece shouted. “Just a few more feet!”
Thor followed his gaze and turned to see the end of the Straits of Madness looming, the cliffs parting ways, the waters calming, the sky breaking into light.
But even though it was just a few feet away, it was too far for him. It might as well have been on the other end of the world.
Thor could not stand it another second. He could no longer contain the rage, the desire to kill.
In one horrifying moment, a moment that would haunt Thorgrin for the rest of his life, he found himself standing and, with shaking hands, redirecting the tip of the sword away from his own chest. Instead, he was horrified to see, he was turning it—and directing it at Reece.
Reece looked down and watched, and his face fell in horror as he, too, realized what Thor was about to do.
But neither of them could control it, both in the grips of something far more powerful than they.
Thor, helpless to do otherwise, found himself stepping forward, raising his sword, and as Reece reached out to console him, plunging it right into the beating heart of his best friend in the world.
Thor could do nothing but stand there and gasp as he held Reece tight, and killed the man he loved most in the world.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
Darius lay on his back and looked up and watched one of those creatures raise its ax high overhead and bring it down right for his face. His world moved in slow motion: he felt every breeze, saw the frozen face of the beast, heard the distant cheers of the crowd. This was what it felt like, he realized, to live his last breath.
Darius wanted to react in time, to roll out of the way or block the blow—yet he knew he could not. His sword lay two feet away, and this time the creature had come down too fast for him to react in time. Out of the corner of his eye Darius saw his fellow gladiators, all dead on the ground, and he knew that his time, too, had come. Here he would meet his end, on this dusty floor, in this hated arena, with all these gladiators whom he did not know, killed by this horrific beast.
Darius had no regrets. He had fought proudly, had not backed down, and had faced whatever they had thrown at him. At least he would have a chance now to reunite with his brothers in arms—Raj, Desmond, Kaz, and Luzi—and join them in the world to come. Darius thought of Loti, and he wondered if she, too, were dead, waiting to greet him, or is she was still alive somewhere. He did not know which was worse.
The blade came closer, and Darius felt its breeze and prepared to die—when suddenly, a clang rang in his ears. Darius blinked and looked up to see the giant ax blade stopped by a long, silver staff, just inches above his face.
Darius looked over and was shocked to see Deklan, standing there calmly in his brown robes, staring back defiantly at the beast as he held out his silver staff, blocking its blow and saving Darius’s life.
Darius blinked several times, not understanding what he was seeing. What was Deklan doing here? Why had he risked his life for him? How could he be so strong as to block such a terrific blow with his silver staff?
As Darius stared in disbelief, still trying to process it all, trying to process that he was still alive, he watched Deklan break into action. Deklan spun his staff in a circle, throwing the ax from the creature’s hand, then pulled back his staff and jabbed the creature between the eyes, knocking it backwards.
The great ax spun in the air, and Deklan reached out and snatched it seamlessly, then as several creatures charged him, he pulled it back and threw it. It sailed end over end through the air then lodged itself in a creature’s head—to the delight of the crowd—felling it.
In the same motion Deklan swung his staff around and smashed another creature on the side of the head, making it drop its ax in mid-blow and sending it to its knees. Other creatures descended upon him, but Deklan faced them all calmly, hardly even looking distressed as he sidestepped them and swung his staff in every direction, end over end, striking one here and another there, moving like lightning as he darted between them. He was constantly in motion, like a cat, moving with stunning speed and dexterity; he was more agile and graceful than any fighter Darius had ever seen.
Deklan spun and jabbed one in the wrist, disarming him, then broadsided one in the throat, then dodged and swept out another from behind his knees, then rolled and swung upward, hitting another between the legs. He created a circle of devastation around him, blocking or dodging their blows, moving so quickly that no one could touch him. He was like a whirlwind, and he did not stop until all the creatures lay on the ground before him.
With a pause in the battle, Deklan walked over to Darius, calm and cool, and reached out a hand.
Darius looked up, shocked, still hardly believing what had happened. He took Deklan’s hand and he yanked him to his feet.
Deklan smiled back.
“Figured I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” he said with a grin.
Deklan picked up a dropped ax, stepped forward, and slashed Darius’s chains, freeing him.
The crowd roared in surprise and delight, and Darius turned and took it all in, standing there with Deklan in the eye of the tornado, seeing all the felled creatures, all about to rise again. He stared back at Deklan in awe, wondering. He had never encountered a greater warrior. Who was this man?
All around them, the creatures were slowly rising, and as Darius tightened his grip
on an ax handle, he felt emboldened. Standing side by side with Deklan, he felt that, for the first time, he could win.
“I don’t understand,” Darius said, as they waited, back to back, for the creatures to come again. “Why did you risk your life for me?”
“I realized you were right,” he said. “Life is a small thing. Honor matters more. Somewhere along the path, I lost my way. You helped me find it again. I am done surviving: now I choose to live—and to live with honor.”
“But why me?” Darius insisted, something bothering him. “Why give it all up, why risk your life for me, a stranger?”
There came a pause, amidst the roar of the crowd, as more creatures gained their feet, assembling like a small army to come back for them. Darius braced himself, as he knew the fight of his life was coming.
“Because, Darius,” Deklan finally replied, “you are no stranger.”
Darius looked back at him, puzzled, and as he did, he finally recognized something in the man’s eyes, something that had been at the edge of his consciousness, something that finally had it all make sense.
“Because you, Darius,” he said, bracing himself for the coming blows, “are my son.”
COMING SOON!
BOOK #17 IN THE SORCERER’S RING
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Books by Morgan Rice
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 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)
About Morgan Rice
Morgan Rice is the #1 bestselling and USA Today bestselling author of the epic fantasy series THE SORCERER’S RING, comprising sixteen books (and counting); of the #1 bestselling series THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS, comprising eleven books (and counting); and of the #1 bestselling series THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY, a post-apocalyptic thriller comprising two books (and counting. Morgan’s books are available in audio and print editions, and translations are available in over 20 languages.
TURNED (Book #1 in the Vampire Journals), ARENA ONE (Book #1 of the Survival Trilogy), and A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1 in the Sorcerer’s Ring) are each available as a free download on Amazon!
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