Rise of the Valiant by Morgan Rice Read Free Book Online Page A

gain himself a shield.
    Merk spun and
faced the man with the crossbow, who, as he’d anticipated, already had his bow
trained on him. A moment later Merk heard the telltale sound of an arrow being
released from the crossbow, and he watched it flying through the air right for
him. Merk held his writhing human shield tight.
    There came a
gasp, and Merk felt the oaf flinch in his arms. The leader cried out in pain,
and Merk suddenly felt a jolt of pain himself, like a knife entering his own
stomach. At first he was confused—and then he realized the arrow had gone
through the shield’s stomach, and the head of it had just barely entered Merk’s
stomach, too. It only penetrated perhaps a half inch—not enough to seriously
wound him—but enough to hurt like hell.
    Calculating the
time it would take to reload the crossbow, Merk dropped the leader’s limp body,
grabbed the sword from his hand, and threw it. It sailed end over end toward
the thug with the crossbow and the man shrieked, eyes widening in shock, as the
sword pierced his chest. He dropped his bow and fell limply beside it.
    Merk turned and
looked over at the other thugs, all clearly in shock, two of their best men
dead, all now seeming unsure. They faced each other in the awkward silence.
    “Who are you?”
one finally called out, nervousness in his voice.
    Merk smiled wide
and cracked his knuckles, relishing the bout to come.
    “I,” he replied,
“am what keeps you up at night.”

CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    Duncan rode with
his army, the sound of hundreds of horses thundering in his ears as he led them
south, throughout the night, away from Argos. His trusted commanders rode
beside him, Anvin on one side and Arthfael on the other, only Vidar remaining
home to guard Volis, while several hundred men lined up beside them, all riding
together. Unlike other warlords, Duncan liked to ride side-by-side with his
men; he did not consider these men to be his subjects, but rather his
brothers-in-arms.
    They rode
through the night, the cool wind in their hair, the snow beneath their feet,
and it felt good to be on the move, to be heading for battle, to no longer be
cowering behind the walls of Volis as Duncan had for half his life. Duncan
looked over and spotted his sons Brandon and Braxton riding alongside his men,
and while he was proud to have them with him, he did not worry for them as he
did for his daughter. Despite himself, as hour followed hour, even though he
told himself he would not worry, Duncan found his nighttime thoughts turning to
Kyra.
    He wondered
where she was now. He thought of her crossing Escalon alone, with only Dierdre,
Andor, and Leo to join her, and his heart tugged at him. He knew the journey he
had sent her on was one that could imperil even some hardened warriors. If she
survived it, she would return a greater warrior than any of the men who rode
with him here today. If she did not, he would never be able to live with
himself. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and he needed her
to complete her quest more than ever.
    They crested a
hill and descended another, and as the wind picked up, Duncan looked out at the
rolling plains, spread out before him beneath the moonlight, and he thought of
their destination: Esephus. The stronghold of the sea, the city built on the
harbor, the crossroads of the northeast and the first major port for all
shipping. It was a city bordered by the Sea of Tears on one side and a harbor
on the other, and it was said whoever controlled Esephus controlled the better
half of Escalon. The next closest fort to Argos and a vital stronghold, Esephus
had to be his first stop, Duncan knew, if he were to have any chance of
rallying a revolution. The once-great city would have to be liberated. Its
harbor, once so proudly filled with ships waving the banners of Escalon, was
now, Duncan knew, filled with Pandesian ships, a humbled reminder of what it
once was.
    Duncan and
Seavig, the warlord of Esephus, had been close