A Joust of Knights (Book #16 in the Sorcerer's Ring) by Morgan Rice Read Free Book Online Page A

Land of Blood, whatever the cost. It is my son. I
will retrieve him—or die trying.”
    Ragon shook his head, coughing.
    “You are not ready,” he said, his voice
trailing off. “Not ready…. You need…power…. You need…the…ring,” he said, and
then erupted into a fit of coughing blood.
    Thor stared back, desperate to know what
he meant before he passed away.
    “What ring?” Thor asked. “Our homeland?”
    There came a long silence, Ragon’s
wheezing the only sound in the air, until finally he opened his eyes, just a
sliver.
    “The…sacred ring.”
    Thor grabbed Ragon’s shoulders, willing
him to respond, but suddenly, he felt Ragon’s body stiffening in his hands. His
eyes froze, there came an awful death gasp, and a moment later, he stopped
breathing, perfectly still.
    Dead.
    Thor felt a wave of agony rush through
him.
    “NO!” Thor threw his head back and cried
to the heavens. Thor was wracked with sobs as he reached out and embraced Ragon,
this generous man who had given up his life to guard his son. He was
overwhelmed with grief and guilt—and he slowly and steadily felt a new resolve rising
up within him.
    Thor looked to the heavens, and he knew
what he had to do.
    “LYCOPLES!” Thor shrieked, the anguished
cry of a father filled with desperation, filled with fury, with nothing left to
lose.
    Lycoples heard his cry: she screeched,
high up in the heavens, her fury matching Thor’s, and she circled down lower
and lower, until she landed but a few feet away.
    Without hesitating, Thor ran to her,
jumped on her back, and grabbed hold of her neck tight. He felt energized to be
on the back of a dragon again.
    “Wait!” O’Connor yelled, rushing forward
with the others. “Where are you going?”
    Thor looked them dead in the eye.
    “To the Land of Blood,” he replied,
feeling more certain than he’d ever had in his life. “I will rescue my son.
Whatever it takes.”
    “You will be destroyed,” Reece said,
stepping forward with concern, his voice grave.
    “Then I will be destroyed with honor,” Thor
replied.
    Thor peered upward, looked to the
horizon, and he saw the trail of the gargoyles, disappearing into the sky—and he
knew where he must go.
    “Then you shall not go alone,” Reece
called out, “We shall follow your trail in our ship, and we shall meet you
there.”
    Thorgrin nodded and squeezed Lycoples,
and suddenly, Thor felt that familiar sensation as the two of them lifted up
into the air.
    “No, Thorgrin!” cried out an anguished
voice behind him.
    He knew the voice to be Angel’s, and he
felt a pang of guilt as he flew away from her.
    But he could not look back. His son lay
ahead—and death or not, he would find him—and kill them all.
     

CHAPTER NINE
     
     
    Gwendolyn walked through the tall arched
doors to the King’s throne room, held open for her by several attendants, Krohn
at her side, and was impressed by the sight before her. There, at the far end
of the empty chamber, sat the King on his throne, alone in this vast place, the
doors echoing behind her as they closed. She approached, walking down the
cobblestone floors, passing shafts of sunlight as they streamed in through the
rows of stained glass, lighting up the place with images of ancient knights in
scenes of battle. This place was both intimidating and serene, inspiring and
haunted by the ghosts of kings past. She could feel their presence hanging in
the thick air, and it reminded her, in too many ways, of King’s Court. She felt
a sudden pang of sadness hanging in her chest, as the room made her miss her
father dearly.
    King MacGil sat there, ponderous, chin
on his fist, clearly burdened by thought, and, Gwendolyn sensed, by the weight
of rulership. He looked lonely to her, trapped in this place, as if the weight
of the kingdom sat on his shoulders. She understood the feeling all too well.
    “Ah, Gwendolyn,” he said, lighting up at
the sight of her.
    She expected him to remain on his
throne, but he