Read Online A Quest of Heroes (Book #1 in the Sorcerer's Ring) by Morgan Rice - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Morgan Rice
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and
threw him, sending him flying, face first, into the dirt.
A crowd of boys quickly gathered
in a circle around them and cheered. Thor reddened, humiliated.
Thor turned to get up, but the
boy was too fast. He was already on top of him, pinning him down. Before Thor
knew it, it had turned into a wrestling match, and the boy’s weight was
immense.
Thor could hear the muted shouts
of the other recruits as they formed a circle, screaming, anxious for blood.
The face of the boy scowled down; the boy reached out his thumbs, and brought
them down for Thor’s eyes. Thor could not believe it: it seemed this boy really
wanted to hurt him. Did he really want to gain advantage that badly?
At the last second, Thor rolled
his head out of the way, and the boy’s hands went flying by, plunging into the
dirt. Thor took the chance to roll out from under him.
Thor gained his feet, and faced
the boy, who arose as well. The boy charged and swung for Thor’s face, and Thor
ducked at the last second; the air rushed by his face, and he realized if it
had hit him, it would have broken his jaw. Thor reached up and punched the boy
in the gut—but it hardly did a thing: it was like striking a tree.
Before Thor could react, the boy
elbowed him in the face.
Thor stumbled back, reeling from
the blow. It was like getting hit by a hammer, and his ears rang.
While Thor stumbled, still trying
to catch his breath, the boy charged and kicked him hard in the chest. Thor
went flying backwards and crashed to the ground, landing on his back. The other
boys cheered.
Thor, dizzy, began to sit up, but
just as he began, the boy charged once more, swung and punched him again, hard
in the face, knocking him flat on his back again—and down for good.
Thor lay there, hearing the muted
cheers of the others, feeling the salty taste of blood running from his nose,
the welt on his face. He groaned in pain. He looked up and could see the large
boy turn away and walk back towards his friends, already celebrating his
victory.
Thor wanted to give up. This boy
was huge, fighting him was futile, and he could take no more punishment. But
something inside him pushed him. He could not lose. Not in front of all these
people.
Don’t give up. Get up. Get up!
Thor somehow summoned the
strength: groaning, he rolled over and got to his hands and knees, then,
slowly, to his feet. He faced the boy, bleeding, his eyes swollen, hard to see,
breathing hard, and raised his fists.
The huge boy turned around and
stared down at Thor. He shook his head, unbelieving.
“You should have stayed down,
boy,” he threatened, as he began to walk back to Thor.
“ENOUGH!” yelled a voice. “Elden,
stand back!”
A knight suddenly stepped up,
getting between them, holding out his palm and stopping Elden from getting
closer to Thor. The crowd quieted, as they all looked to the knight: clearly
this was a man who demanded respect.
Thor looked up, in awe at the
knight’s presence: he was tall, with broad shoulders, a square jaw, brown,
well-kept hair, in his 20s. Thor liked him immediately. His first-rate armor, a
chainmail made of a polished silver, was covered with royal markings: the
falcon emblem of the MacGil family. Thor’s throat went dry: he was standing
before a member of the royal family. He could hardly believe it.
“Explain yourself, boy,” he said
to Thor. “Why have you charged into our arena uninvited?”
Before Thor could respond,
suddenly, the three members of the King’s guard broke through the circle. The
lead guard stood there, breathing hard, pointing a finger at Thor.
“He defied our command!” the
guard yelled. “I am going to shackle him and take him to the King’s dungeon!”
“I did nothing wrong!” Thor
protested.
“Did you now?” the guard yelled.
“Barging into the King’s property uninvited?”
“All I wanted was a chance!” Thor
yelled, turning, pleading to the knight before him, the member of the royal
family. “All I wanted was a
threw him, sending him flying, face first, into the dirt.
A crowd of boys quickly gathered
in a circle around them and cheered. Thor reddened, humiliated.
Thor turned to get up, but the
boy was too fast. He was already on top of him, pinning him down. Before Thor
knew it, it had turned into a wrestling match, and the boy’s weight was
immense.
Thor could hear the muted shouts
of the other recruits as they formed a circle, screaming, anxious for blood.
The face of the boy scowled down; the boy reached out his thumbs, and brought
them down for Thor’s eyes. Thor could not believe it: it seemed this boy really
wanted to hurt him. Did he really want to gain advantage that badly?
At the last second, Thor rolled
his head out of the way, and the boy’s hands went flying by, plunging into the
dirt. Thor took the chance to roll out from under him.
Thor gained his feet, and faced
the boy, who arose as well. The boy charged and swung for Thor’s face, and Thor
ducked at the last second; the air rushed by his face, and he realized if it
had hit him, it would have broken his jaw. Thor reached up and punched the boy
in the gut—but it hardly did a thing: it was like striking a tree.
Before Thor could react, the boy
elbowed him in the face.
Thor stumbled back, reeling from
the blow. It was like getting hit by a hammer, and his ears rang.
While Thor stumbled, still trying
to catch his breath, the boy charged and kicked him hard in the chest. Thor
went flying backwards and crashed to the ground, landing on his back. The other
boys cheered.
Thor, dizzy, began to sit up, but
just as he began, the boy charged once more, swung and punched him again, hard
in the face, knocking him flat on his back again—and down for good.
Thor lay there, hearing the muted
cheers of the others, feeling the salty taste of blood running from his nose,
the welt on his face. He groaned in pain. He looked up and could see the large
boy turn away and walk back towards his friends, already celebrating his
victory.
Thor wanted to give up. This boy
was huge, fighting him was futile, and he could take no more punishment. But
something inside him pushed him. He could not lose. Not in front of all these
people.
Don’t give up. Get up. Get up!
Thor somehow summoned the
strength: groaning, he rolled over and got to his hands and knees, then,
slowly, to his feet. He faced the boy, bleeding, his eyes swollen, hard to see,
breathing hard, and raised his fists.
The huge boy turned around and
stared down at Thor. He shook his head, unbelieving.
“You should have stayed down,
boy,” he threatened, as he began to walk back to Thor.
“ENOUGH!” yelled a voice. “Elden,
stand back!”
A knight suddenly stepped up,
getting between them, holding out his palm and stopping Elden from getting
closer to Thor. The crowd quieted, as they all looked to the knight: clearly
this was a man who demanded respect.
Thor looked up, in awe at the
knight’s presence: he was tall, with broad shoulders, a square jaw, brown,
well-kept hair, in his 20s. Thor liked him immediately. His first-rate armor, a
chainmail made of a polished silver, was covered with royal markings: the
falcon emblem of the MacGil family. Thor’s throat went dry: he was standing
before a member of the royal family. He could hardly believe it.
“Explain yourself, boy,” he said
to Thor. “Why have you charged into our arena uninvited?”
Before Thor could respond,
suddenly, the three members of the King’s guard broke through the circle. The
lead guard stood there, breathing hard, pointing a finger at Thor.
“He defied our command!” the
guard yelled. “I am going to shackle him and take him to the King’s dungeon!”
“I did nothing wrong!” Thor
protested.
“Did you now?” the guard yelled.
“Barging into the King’s property uninvited?”
“All I wanted was a chance!” Thor
yelled, turning, pleading to the knight before him, the member of the royal
family. “All I wanted was a
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