Authors: Morgan Rice
A Reign of Steel
A
R
E I G N
O
F
S T E E L
(Book #11 in the Sorcerer’s Ring)
Morgan Rice
About Morgan Rice
Morgan Rice is the #1 Bestselling author of THE
VAMPIRE JOURNALS, a young adult series comprising ten books (and counting),
which has been translated into six languages. Book #1 in the series, TURNED, is
available as a
free
download
on Amazon!
Morgan is also author of the #1 Bestselling ARENA ONE
and ARENA TWO, the first two books in THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY, a post-apocalyptic
action thriller set in the future.
Morgan is also author of the #1 Bestselling epic
fantasy series THE SORCERER’S RING, comprising eleven books and counting. Book
#1 in the series, A QUEST OF HEROES, is available is a
free
download
on Amazon!
Morgan loves to hear from you, so please feel free to
visit
www.morganricebooks.com
to
stay in touch.
Select Acclaim for
Morgan Rice
“Grabbed my attention from the beginning and did not
let go….This story is an amazing adventure that is fast paced and action packed
from the very beginning. There is not a dull moment to be found.”
--Paranormal Romance Guild {regarding
Turned
}
“An ideal story for young readers. Morgan Rice did a
good job spinning an interesting twist…Refreshing and unique, has the classic
elements found in many Young Adult paranormal stories. Easy to read but
extremely fast-paced....Recommended for anyone who likes to read soft
paranormal romances. Rated PG.”
--The Romance Reviews (regarding
Turned
)
“Jam packed with action, romance, adventure, and suspense.
Get your hands on this one and fall in love all over again.”
--vampirebooksite.com (regarding
Turned
)
“A great plot, and this especially was the kind of
book you will have trouble putting down at night. The ending was a cliffhanger
that was so spectacular that you will immediately want to buy the next book,
just to see what happens.”
--The Dallas Examiner {regarding
Loved
}
“Morgan Rice proves herself again to be an extremely
talented storyteller….This would appeal to a wide range of audiences, including
younger fans of the vampire/fantasy genre. It ended with an unexpected
cliffhanger that leaves you shocked.”
--The Romance Reviews {regarding
Loved
}
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)
A GRANT OF ARMS (Book #8)
A SKY OF SPELLS (Book #9)
A SEA OF SHIELDS (Book #10)
A REIGN OF STEEL (Book #11)
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)
Copyright © 2014 by Morgan Rice
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the
U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database
or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would
like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy
for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it
was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your
own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Reece
stood, the dagger in his hand impaled in Tirus’s chest, frozen in a moment of
shock. His entire world spun in slow motion, all of life a blur. He had just
killed his worst enemy, the man responsible for Selese’s death. For that, Reece
felt a tremendous feeling of satisfaction, of vengeance. Finally, a great wrong
had been set right.
Yet
at the same time, Reece felt numb to the world, felt the odd feeling of preparing
to greet death, bracing himself for the demise that would surely follow. The
room was filled with Tirus’s men, all of whom stood there, also frozen in
shock, all witnessing the event. Reece braced himself for death. Yet he had no
regrets. He felt grateful that he had even been given a chance to kill this
man, who dared to think that Reece would ever actually apologize to him.
Reece
knew that death was inevitable; he was too outnumbered in this room, and the
only people in this great hall that were on his side were Matus and Srog. Srog,
wounded, was bound with ropes, captive, and Matus stood beside him, under the
watchful eye of the soldiers. They would be of little help against this army of
Upper Islanders loyal to Tirus.
But
before Reece died, he wanted to complete his revenge, and to take out as many
of these Upper Islanders as he could.
Tirus
slumped down to Reece’s feet, dead, and Reece did not hesitate: he extracted
his dagger and immediately spun and sliced the throat of Tirus’s general, standing
beside him; in the same motion, Reece whipped around and stabbed another
general in the heart.
As
the shocked room began to react, Reece moved quickly. He drew both swords from
the scabbards of the two dying men, and charged the group of soldiers facing
him. He killed four of them before they had a chance to react.
Hundreds
of warriors finally broke into action, descending on Reece from all sides. Reece
summoned all his training in the Legion, all the times he been forced to fight
against groups of men, and as they encircled him, he raised his sword with both
hands. He wasn’t weighed down by armor, like these other men, or by a belt full
of weapons, or a shield; he was lighter and faster than them all, and he was
enraged, cornered in, and fighting for his life.
Reece
fought valiantly, faster than all of them, remembering all those times he had
sparred against Thor, the greatest warrior he’d ever fought, remembering how
much his skills had been sharpened. He took down man after man, his sword
clanging against countless others, sparks flying as he fought in every
direction. He swung and swung until his arms grew heavy, cutting down a dozen
men before they could blink.
But
more and more men poured in. There were just too many of them. For every six that
fell, a dozen more appeared, and the crowd grew thick as they rallied and
pressed on him from all sides. Reece was breathing hard as he felt a sword
slash his arm, and he screamed out, blood coming from his bicep. He swung
around and stabbed the man in the ribs, but the damage had already been done. He
was wounded now, and still more men appeared from every side. He knew his time had
come.
At
least, he realized, grateful, he was able to go down in an act of valor.
“REECE!”
A shriek
suddenly pierced the air, a voice that Reece recognized immediately.
A
woman’s voice.
Reece’s
body went numb as he realized whose voice it was. It was the voice of the one
woman left in the world who could catch his attention, even in the midst of
this great battle, even in the midst of his dying moments:
Stara.
Reece
looked up and saw her standing high atop the wooden bleachers that lined the
sides of the room. She stood high above the crowd, her expression fierce, veins
bulging in her throat as she screamed for him. He saw she held a bow and arrow,
and he watched as she took aim up high, at an object across the room.
Reece
followed her gaze, and he realized what she aimed for: a thick rope, fifty feet
long, anchoring an immense metal chandelier thirty feet in diameter, dropping to
an iron hook in the stone floor. The fixture was as thick as a tree trunk, and
held several hundred flaming candles.
Reece
realized: Stara aimed to shoot out the cord. If she hit, it would send the
chandelier crashing down—and it would crush half the men in this room. And as
Reece looked up, he realized that he was standing right underneath it.
She
was warning him to move.
Reece’s
heart pounded in panic as he turned and lowered his sword and charged wildly into
his group of attackers, rushing to get out before it fell. He kicked and
elbowed and head-butted soldiers out of his way as he burst through the group. Reece
remembered from childhood what a great shot Stara was—always outdoing the
boys—and he knew her aim would be true. Even though he ran with his back
exposed to the men chasing him, he trusted her, knowing she would hit.
A
moment later Reece heard the sound of an arrow slicing through the air, of a
great rope snapping, then of a massive piece of iron releasing, plummeting
straight down, rushing through the air at full speed. There came a tremendous
crash, the entire room shaking, the vibration knocking Reece off his feet.
Reece felt the wind on his back, the chandelier missing him by just a few feet as
he fell to the stone on his hands and knees.
Reece
heard the screams of men, and he looked over his shoulder and saw the damage Stara
had done: dozens of men lay crushed beneath the chandelier, blood everywhere,
crying out, pinned to their deaths. She had saved his life.
Reece
scrambled to his feet, looking for Stara, and saw that she was in danger now. Several
men were closing in on her, and while she took aim with her bow and arrow, he
knew there were only so many shots she could get off.
She
turned and looked nervously to the door, clearly thinking they could escape
that way. But as Reece followed her glance, his heart dropped to see dozens of Tirus’s
men rush forward and block it, barring the two huge double doors with a thick
wooden beam.
They
were trapped, all exits blocked. Reece knew they would die here.
Reece
saw Stara looking about the room, frantic, until her eyes settled on the uppermost
row of the wooden bleachers along the back wall.
She
gestured to Reece as she ran for it, and he had no idea what she had in mind. He
saw no exit there. But she knew this castle better than he, and perhaps had an
escape route in mind that he could not see.
Reece
turned and ran, fighting his way through the men as they began to regroup and
attack him. As he sprinted through the crowd, he fought minimally, trying not
to engage them too much, but rather trying to cut a singular path through the
men and make his way to the far corner of the room.
As
he ran, Reece looked over at Srog and Matus, determined to help them, too, and
he was happily surprised to see that Matus had grabbed the swords of his captors
and had stabbed them both; he watched as Matus quickly cut Srog’s cords,
freeing Srog, who grabbed a sword and killed several soldiers who approached.
“Matus!”
Reece screamed.
Matus
turned and looked to him, and he saw Stara along the far wall and saw where Reece
was running. Matus yanked Srog, and they turned and ran for it, too, all of
them now heading in the same direction.
As
Reece fought his way through the room, it began to open up. There were not as
many soldiers here in this far corner of the room, far away from the opposite
corner, from the barred exit where all the soldiers were converging. Reece hoped
that Stara knew what she was doing.
Stara
ran along the wooden bleachers, jumping higher and higher up the rows, kicking
men in the face as they reached up to grab her. As Reece watched her, trying to
catch up, he still did not know exactly where she was going, or what her plan
could be.
Reece
reached the far corner and jumped up onto the bleachers, jumping onto the first
wooden row, then the next, then the next, climbing higher and higher, till he
was a good ten feet above the crowd, on the farthest, highest wooden bench
against the wall. He met up with Stara, and they converged against the far wall
with Matus and Srog. They had a good lead on the other soldiers, except for
one: he rushed Stara from behind, and Reece lunged forward and stabbed him through
the heart, right before he brought a dagger down on Stara’s back.
Stara
raised her bow and turned to two soldiers lunging for Reece’s exposed back,
swords drawn, and took out them both.
The
four of them stood, backs to the wall in the far corner of the room, on the
highest bleacher, and Reece looked out and saw a hundred men race across the
room, closing in on them. They were trapped now in this corner, with nowhere to
go.
Reece
did not understand why Stara had led them all here. Seeing no possible means of
escape, he was certain that they would soon all be dead.
“What
is your plan?” he yelled to her, as they stood side by side, fighting off men. “There
is no way out!”
“Look
up,” she replied.
Reece
craned his neck and saw above them another iron chandelier, with a long rope leading
from it all the way down to the floor, right beside him.
Reece’s
brow furrowed in confusion.
“I
don’t understand,” he said.
“The
rope,” she said. “Grab it. All of you. And hold on for dear life.”
They
did as she instructed, each grabbing the rope with both hands and holding
tight. Suddenly, Reece realized what Stara was about to do.
“Are
you sure this is a good idea?” he called out.
But
it was too late.
As
a dozen soldiers approached them, Stara grabbed Reece’s sword, jumped into Reece’s
arms, and slashed the rope beside them, the one holding the chandelier.
Reece
felt his stomach drop as suddenly the four of them, clutching onto the rope and
each other, shot up high into the air at a dizzying speed, grabbing on for dear
life as the iron chandelier plummeted down. It crushed the men below them and
propelled the four of them high into the air, swinging from the rope.
The
rope finally stopped, and the four of them hung there, swinging in the air, a
good fifty feet above the hall.
Reece
looked down, sweating, almost losing his grip.
“There!”
Stara called out.
Reece
turned and saw the huge stained-glass window before them, and realized her plan.
The coarse rope cut Reece’s palms, and he started to slip with the sweat. He
didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.
“I’m
losing my grip!” Srog called out, trying his best to hold on despite his
injuries.
“We
need to swing!” Stara yelled. “We need momentum! Kick off the wall!”
Reece
followed her lead: he leaned forward with his boot against the wall and together,
they shoved off the wall, the rope swinging more and more wildly. They shoved
again and again, until with one final kick, they swung all the way back, like a
pendulum, and then they all, shouting, braced themselves as they swung right
for the enormous stained-glass window.
The
glass exploded, raining down all around them, and the four of them let go,
dropping onto the wide stone platform at the base of the window.
Standing
there, perched fifty feet above the room, the cold air rushing in, Reece looked
down below, and on one side he saw the inside of the hall, hundreds of soldiers
looking up at them, wondering how to pursue; on the other side he saw outside
the fort. It was pouring outside, driving wind and blinding rain, and the drop below
was a good thirty feet, certainly enough to break a leg. But Reece, at least,
saw several tall bushes below, and he also saw that the ground was wet and soft
with mud. It would be a long, hard fall; but maybe they would be cushioned
enough.
Suddenly,
Reece screamed out as he felt metal piercing his flesh. He looked down and grabbed
his arm and realized an arrow had just grazed it, drawing blood. It was a minor
wound, but it stung.
Reece
turned and checked back down over his shoulder, and saw that dozens of Tirus’s
men were aiming bows and firing, arrows whizzing by them now from every
direction.
Reece
knew there was no time. He looked over and saw Stara standing on one side of
him, Matus and Srog on the other, all of them wide-eyed with fear at the drop
before them. He grabbed Stara’s hand, knowing it was now or never.
Without
a word, all of them knowing what needed to be done, they jumped together. They
shrieked as they dropped through the air in the blinding rain and wind, flailing
and falling, and Reece could not help but wonder if he’d just leapt from one certain
death to another.