A Forge of Valor by Morgan Rice Read Free Book Online Page B

Pandesian army, even against insurmountable odds. She closed her eyes and shook away the image, rowing even faster, praying he was not dead yet. All she wanted was to make it back in time to save him—or if not, then to at least have a chance to die by his side.
    Beside her, Marco rowed just as quickly, and she looked over at him with gratitude and wonder.
    “Why?” she asked.
    He turned and looked at her.
    “Why did you join me?” she pressed.
    He looked at her, silent, then looked away.
    “You could have gone with the others back there,” she added. “But you chose not to. You chose to come with me.”
    He looked straight ahead, still rowing hard, still remaining silent.
    “Why?” she insisted, desperate to know, rowing furiously.
    “Because my friend admired you very much,” Marco said. “And that is enough for me.”
    Dierdre rowed harder, turning through the twisting canal, and her thoughts turned to Alec. She was so disappointed in him. He had abandoned them all, had departed Ur with that mysterious stranger before the invasion. Why? She could only wonder. He had been so devoted to the cause, the forge, and she was sure he’d be the last person to flee in a time of need. Yet he had, when they needed him most.
    It made Dierdre reexamine her feelings for Alec, whom, after all, she barely knew—and it made her have stronger feelings for his friend Marco, who had sacrificed for her. Already she felt a strong bond with him. As cannonballs continued to whistle overhead, as buildings continued to explode and topple all around them, Dierdre wondered if Marco really knew what he was getting into. Did he know that by joining her, by returning into the heart of chaos, there would be no return?
    “We row toward death, you know,” she said. “My father and his men are on that beach, beyond that wall of rubble, and I intend to find him and fight by his side.”
    Marco nodded.
    “Do you think I returned to this city to live?” he asked. “If I wanted to flee, I had my chance.”
    Satisfied, and touched by his strength, Dierdre rowed on, the two of them continuing silently, avoiding falling debris as they turned ever closer toward the shore.
    Finally, they turned a corner, and in the distance she spotted the wall of rubble where she had last seen her father—and just beyond it, the tall black ships. She knew that on the other side lay the beach where he was battling the Pandesians, and she rowed with all she had, sweat pouring down her face, anxious to reach him in time. She heard the sounds of fighting, of men groaning out, dying, and she prayed it was not too late.
    Barely had their boat reached the edge of the canal when she jumped out, rocking it, Marco behind her, and sprinted for the wall. She scrambled over the massive boulders, scraping her elbows and knees and not caring. Out of breath, she climbed and climbed, slipping on rocks, thinking only of her father, of having to reach the other side, hardly comprehending that these mounds of rubble were once the great towers of Ur.
    She glanced over her shoulder as she heard the shouts, and, afforded a sweeping view of Ur from up here, she was shocked to see half the city in ruins. Buildings were toppled, mountains of rubble in the streets, covered by clouds of dust. She saw the people of Ur fleeing for their lives in every direction.
    She turned back around and continued climbing, going the opposite direction of the people, wanting to embrace the battle—not run from it. She finally reached the top of the rock wall, and as she looked out, her heart stopped. She stood there, frozen in place, unable to move. This was not what she had expected at all.
    Dierdre had expected to see a great battle being waged below, to see her father fighting valiantly, his men all around him. She expected to be able to rush down there and join him, to save him, to fight at his side.
    Instead, what she saw made her want to curl up and die.
    There lay her father, face-first in the