Read Online A Quest of Heroes (Book #1 in the Sorcerer's Ring) by Morgan Rice - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Morgan Rice
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that is precisely the
thing you seek.”
Gareth’s face turned a dark shade
of crimson. Clearly, MacGil had given him an insight into his truest nature.
MacGil watched his eyes, saw them burn with a hatred for him that he had never
imagined possible.
Without another word, Gareth
stormed from the room and slammed the door behind him.
In the reverberating echo, MacGil
shuddered. He recalled his son’s stare and sensed a hatred so deep, deeper than
even than those of his enemies. In that moment, he thought of Argon, of his
pronouncement, of danger being close.
Could it be as close as this?
CHAPTER SIX
Thor sprinted across the vast field of
the arena, running with all he had. Behind him he could hear the footsteps of
the King’s guards, close on his tail. They chased him across the hot and dusty
landscape, cursing as they went. Before him were spread out the members—and new
recruits—of the Legion, dozens of boys, just like him, but older and stronger.
They were training and being tested in various formations, some throwing
spears, others hurling javelins, a few practicing their grips on lances. They
aimed for distant targets, and rarely missed. These were his competition, and
they seemed formidable.
Among them were dozens of real knights,
members of the Silver, standing in a broad semi-circle, watching the action.
Judging. Deciding who would stay and who would be sent home.
Thor knew he had to prove himself, had
to impress these men. Within moments the guards would be upon him, and if he
had any chance of making an impression, now was the time. But how? His mind
raced as he dashed across the courtyard, determined not to be turned away.
As Thor raced across the field,
others began to take notice. Some of the recruits stopped what they were doing
and turned; some of the knights did as well. Within moments, Thor felt all the
attention focused on him. They looked bewildered, and he realized they must be
wondering who he was, sprinting across their field, three of the King’s guard
chasing him. This was not how he had wanted to make an impression. His whole life,
when he had dreamed of joining the Legion, this was not how he had envisioned
it happening.
As Thor ran, debating what to do,
his course of action was made plain for him. One large boy, a recruit, decided
to take it upon himself to impress the others by stopping Thor. Tall,
muscle-bound, and nearly twice Thor’s size, he raised his wooden sword to block
Thor’s way. Thor could see he was determined to strike him down, to make a fool
of him in front of everyone, and thereby gain himself advantage over the other
recruits.
This made Thor furious. Thor had
no bone to pick with this boy, and it was not his fight. But he was making it
his fight, just to gain advantage with the others.
As they got closer, Thor could
hardly believe this boy’s size: he towered over him, scowled down with locks of
thick black hair covering his forehead, and the largest, squarest jaw Thor had
ever seen. He did not see how he could make a dent against this boy.
The boy charged him with his
wooden sword, and Thor knew that if he didn’t act quickly, he would be knocked
out.
Thor’s reflexes kicked in. He
instinctively took out his sling, reached back, and hurled a rock at the boy’s
hand. It found its target, and knocked the sword from his hand, just as the boy
was bringing it down. It went flying and the boy, screaming, clutched his hand.
Thor wasted no time. He charged,
taking advantage of the moment, leapt into the air, and kicked the boy,
planting his two front feet squarely on the boy’s chest. But the boy was so
thick, it was like kicking an oak tree. The boy merely stumbled back a few
inches, while Thor stopped cold in his tracks and fell at the boy’s feet. This
does not bode well , Thor thought, as he hit the ground with a thud, his
ears ringing.
Thor tried to gain his feet, but
the boy was a step ahead of him: he reached down, grabbed Thor by his back,
thing you seek.”
Gareth’s face turned a dark shade
of crimson. Clearly, MacGil had given him an insight into his truest nature.
MacGil watched his eyes, saw them burn with a hatred for him that he had never
imagined possible.
Without another word, Gareth
stormed from the room and slammed the door behind him.
In the reverberating echo, MacGil
shuddered. He recalled his son’s stare and sensed a hatred so deep, deeper than
even than those of his enemies. In that moment, he thought of Argon, of his
pronouncement, of danger being close.
Could it be as close as this?
CHAPTER SIX
Thor sprinted across the vast field of
the arena, running with all he had. Behind him he could hear the footsteps of
the King’s guards, close on his tail. They chased him across the hot and dusty
landscape, cursing as they went. Before him were spread out the members—and new
recruits—of the Legion, dozens of boys, just like him, but older and stronger.
They were training and being tested in various formations, some throwing
spears, others hurling javelins, a few practicing their grips on lances. They
aimed for distant targets, and rarely missed. These were his competition, and
they seemed formidable.
Among them were dozens of real knights,
members of the Silver, standing in a broad semi-circle, watching the action.
Judging. Deciding who would stay and who would be sent home.
Thor knew he had to prove himself, had
to impress these men. Within moments the guards would be upon him, and if he
had any chance of making an impression, now was the time. But how? His mind
raced as he dashed across the courtyard, determined not to be turned away.
As Thor raced across the field,
others began to take notice. Some of the recruits stopped what they were doing
and turned; some of the knights did as well. Within moments, Thor felt all the
attention focused on him. They looked bewildered, and he realized they must be
wondering who he was, sprinting across their field, three of the King’s guard
chasing him. This was not how he had wanted to make an impression. His whole life,
when he had dreamed of joining the Legion, this was not how he had envisioned
it happening.
As Thor ran, debating what to do,
his course of action was made plain for him. One large boy, a recruit, decided
to take it upon himself to impress the others by stopping Thor. Tall,
muscle-bound, and nearly twice Thor’s size, he raised his wooden sword to block
Thor’s way. Thor could see he was determined to strike him down, to make a fool
of him in front of everyone, and thereby gain himself advantage over the other
recruits.
This made Thor furious. Thor had
no bone to pick with this boy, and it was not his fight. But he was making it
his fight, just to gain advantage with the others.
As they got closer, Thor could
hardly believe this boy’s size: he towered over him, scowled down with locks of
thick black hair covering his forehead, and the largest, squarest jaw Thor had
ever seen. He did not see how he could make a dent against this boy.
The boy charged him with his
wooden sword, and Thor knew that if he didn’t act quickly, he would be knocked
out.
Thor’s reflexes kicked in. He
instinctively took out his sling, reached back, and hurled a rock at the boy’s
hand. It found its target, and knocked the sword from his hand, just as the boy
was bringing it down. It went flying and the boy, screaming, clutched his hand.
Thor wasted no time. He charged,
taking advantage of the moment, leapt into the air, and kicked the boy,
planting his two front feet squarely on the boy’s chest. But the boy was so
thick, it was like kicking an oak tree. The boy merely stumbled back a few
inches, while Thor stopped cold in his tracks and fell at the boy’s feet. This
does not bode well , Thor thought, as he hit the ground with a thud, his
ears ringing.
Thor tried to gain his feet, but
the boy was a step ahead of him: he reached down, grabbed Thor by his back,
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