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Morgan Rice
Morgan Rice is the #1 bestselling and USA Today bestselling author of the epic fantasy series THE SORCERER’S RING, comprising seventeen books; of the #1 bestselling series THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS, comprising twelve books; of the #1 bestselling series THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY, a post-apocalyptic thriller comprising three books; of the epic fantasy series KINGS AND SORCERERS, comprising six books; and of the new epic fantasy series OF CROWNS AND GLORY. Morgan’s books are available in audio and print editions, and translations are available in over 25 languages.
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Select Acclaim for Morgan Rice
“If you thought that there was no reason left for living after the end of THE SORCERER’S RING series, you were wrong. In RISE OF THE DRAGONS Morgan Rice has come up with what promises to be another brilliant series, immersing us in a fantasy of trolls and dragons, of valor, honor, courage, magic and faith in your destiny. Morgan has managed again to produce a strong set of characters that make us cheer for them on every page… Recommended for the permanent library of all readers that love a well-written fantasy.”
– Books and Movie ReviewsRoberto Mattos
“An action packed fantasy sure to please fans of Morgan Rice’s previous novels, along with fans of works such as THE INHERITANCE CYCLE by Christopher Paolini… Fans of Young Adult Fiction will devour this latest work by Rice and beg for more.”
– The Wanderer, A Literary Journal (regarding Rise of the Dragons)
“A spirited fantasy that weaves elements of mystery and intrigue into its story line. A Quest of Heroes is all about the making of courage and about realizing a life purpose that leads to growth, maturity, and excellence…For those seeking meaty fantasy adventures, the protagonists, devices, and action provide a vigorous set of encounters that focus well on Thor's evolution from a dreamy child to a young adult facing impossible odds for survival…Only the beginning of what promises to be an epic young adult series.”
– Midwest Book Review (D. Donovan, eBook Reviewer)
“THE SORCERER’S RING has all the ingredients for an instant success: plots, counterplots, mystery, valiant knights, and blossoming relationships replete with broken hearts, deception and betrayal. It will keep you entertained for hours, and will satisfy all ages. Recommended for the permanent library of all fantasy readers.”
– Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos
“In this action-packed first book in the epic fantasy Sorcerer's Ring series (which is currently 14 books strong), Rice introduces readers to 14-year-old Thorgrin "Thor" McLeod, whose dream is to join the Silver Legion, the elite knights who serve the king… Rice's writing is solid and the premise intriguing.”
– Publishers Weekly
Books by Morgan Rice
THE WAY OF STEEL
ONLY THE WORTHY (Book #1)
OF CROWNS AND GLORY
SLAVE, WARRIOR, QUEEN (Book #1)
ROGUE, PRISONER, PRINCESS (Book #2)
KNIGHT, HEIR, PRINCE (Book #3)
REBEL, PAWN, KING (Book #4)
KINGS AND SORCERERS
RISE OF THE DRAGONS (Book #1)
RISE OF THE VALIANT (Book #2)
THE WEIGHT OF HONOR (Book #3)
A FORGE OF VALOR (Book #4)
A REALM OF SHADOWS (Book #5)
NIGHT OF THE BOLD (Book #6)
THE SORCERER’S RING
A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1)
A MARCH OF KINGS (Book #2)
A FATE OF DRAGONS (Book #3)
A CRY 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)
A LAND OF FIRE (Book #12)
A RULE OF QUEENS (Book #13)
AN OATH OF BROTHERS (Book #14)
A DREAM OF MORTALS (Book #15)
A JOUST OF KNIGHTS (Book #16)
THE GIFT OF BATTLE (Book #17)
THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY
ARENA ONE: SLAVERSUNNERS (Book #1)
ARENA TWO (Book #2)
ARENA THREE (Book #3)
VAMPIRE, FALLEN
BEFORE DAWN (Book #1)
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)
FATED (Book #11)
OBSESSED (Book #12)
Listen to THE SORCERER’S RING series in audio book format!
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Copyright © 2016 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.
Jacket image Copyright Captblack76 , used under license from Shutterstock.com.
CHAPTER ONE
Even without every noble in Delos staring at him, Thanos would have felt the nerves of a groom on his wedding day. He stood by the altar that had been set up in the castle’s largest feast hall, and somehow he managed to stand perfectly still – but only because his soldier’s training kept him from showing any fear. Standing out in front of all of them, he could feel his stomach knotting with the pressure of it.
Thanos looked about while awaiting his bride. The feast hall swam in white silk and shone with diamonds, hardly a surface there that didn’t glitter. Even the servants attending the nobles wore clothes that would have shamed most merchants. As for the nobles themselves, today they looked like something out of a bard’s tale, dressed in silk and velvet, dripping with gold and silver.
To Thanos, it was far too much; yet he hadn’t exactly been given a say in it. Delos’s royals had gotten the wedding the king and queen decided they should have, and anything less than perfection would have disappointed his bride. He glanced over and saw them: King Claudius and Queen Athena, sitting together on thrones carved from ironwood and covered in gold leaf. They sat proudly, obviously delighted by his decision to accept their choice of bride.
The high priest, decked in a robe of gold reflecting the rays of the sun, stood beside him. He seemed like a kindly man, and Thanos, feeling more alone than ever, wanted to take him aside and ask him: What do you do when you aren’t sure that you belong somewhere?
Yet he could not.
It wasn’t just that Thanos was nervous about the wedding. It was so many other things as well. There was the fact that back on Haylon, the rebels there were relying on him to help them to free the Empire. That thought brought a flash of determination with it, because he would help them, whatever it took. Yet here he stood in this hall, surrounded by the enemy.
There was also the fact that Lucious was here, standing in the corner, dressed in royal purple and silver, smirking as he eyed the serving girls. Thanos had to fight to keep from walking over there and strangling him with his bare hands.
And then there was the thought that would not let him be:
Ceres.
That brought with it a spike of pain that felt, even now, as though it might burst through his chest. He could still barely believe that she was dead and gone, lost on a prison ship while he’d been on Haylon. Just the thought of that threatened to drag him back toward the darkness that had consumed him when he’d heard the news.
Stephania had pulled him out of that. She’d been the one shining point in it all, the only person in Delos who had brought him any happiness when he had wanted to end it all, when he could not envision a life without Ceres.
It was not that he did not love Stephania; he did. He had come to love her. It was, rather, that he could not let himself forget Ceres. It was as if the two loves still co-existed in his heart. He could not understand it all. Why had Ceres been meant to come into his life only to leave it? Why had Stephania been meant to come into his life at the moment she had? Had Ceres come to him to somehow prepare him to accept Stephania? Or had the two nothing to do with one another?
Music stirred. Thanos turned and his heart caught to see Stephania arrive to the strains of lyre music. His heart beat faster as she walked, all the nobles standing as she went, accompanied by handmaidens who threw rose petals and rang bells to drive away any lingering bad luck. Her dress was a pure, elegant white that made it look as though the whole room had been designed around it. She wore a diamond-studded caul over her golden hair, flowers worked into it with elaborate grace. The veil that covered her face shimmered with silver thread and tiny sapphires that mirrored the shade of the eyes beneath.
Thanos felt his fears melt away.
He watched as she approached, seeming to glide her way through the hall to the altar. She stood before him, and Thanos lifted the veil from her features.
He felt his breath catch. She was always lovely, but today she looked so perfect Thanos could barely believe that she was real. He stood staring at her for so long that he barely heard the priest begin the ceremony.
“The gods have given us many feasts and ceremonies in which to reflect on their glory,” the high priest intoned. “Of these, marriage is the most sacred, for without it there would be no continuation of humankind. This marriage is an especially glorious one, between two of the great nobles of this realm. Yet it is also between a young man and a young woman who love one another deeply, and whose happiness should find a place in all our hearts.”
He paused to let the words sink in.
“Prince Thanos, will you present your arm to be bound to this woman for all time? To love her and honor her until the gods take you from one another, and to see your families made one?”
He’d hesitated before, but now he didn’t. He extended his arm toward the high priest, palm up. “I will.”
“And Lady Stephania,” the high priest continued, “will you present your arm to be bound to this man for all time? To love him and honor him until the gods take you from one another, and to see your families made one?”
Stephania’s smile was the most beautiful thing Thanos had ever seen. She placed her hand in his. “I will.”
The high priest wrapped a length of pure white cloth around and around their arms, the wrapping both traditional and elegant.
“Bound together in marriage, you are one flesh, one soul, one family,” the high priest said. “May you be happy together always. You may kiss.”
Thanos didn’t need to be told. It was awkward, bound together like that, but that was always one of the minor amusements of a wedding feast, and they found a way. Thanos tasted Stephania’s lips against his, melting into her, and for a moment at least, he could put aside all the other concerns in the world and just be there with her. Even thoughts of Ceres faded into the background, consumed in Stephania’s touch.
Of course, Lucious would be the one to break the magic of the moment.
“Well, I’m glad that’s done,” he said over the silence of the crowd. “Can we start the party now? I need a drink!”
***
If the wedding ceremony had been opulent, the feast that followed was spectacular. So much so that Thanos found himself wondering about the cost of it. It looked as though half the profits from the latest raids had gone into it, with no expense spared. He knew that the king and queen were paying, as a way of showing how happy they were about the wedding, but how many families in the city could something like this have fed?
A glance around let him see tumblers and dancers, musicians and jugglers entertaining knots of nobles. Nobles danced together in swirling circles, while food was spread out in what seemed to Thanos like small mountains of pastries and sweetmeats, oysters and rich desserts.
There was wine, of course, enough that as the festivities continued, things grew wilder. The dancing sped up, with people spinning between partners almost faster than Thanos could follow. The king and queen had already retired, along with some of the older nobles, leaving the room. It was like a signal to the partygoers to put aside those inhibitions that remained.
Stephania was currently being whirled around in the traditional farewell dance, where the bride danced quickly between all the eligible young men in the room, before she would head back to Thanos’s arms at the finish. Traditionally, it was a way for the bride to show how happy she was with her choice compared to all she was rejecting. More informally, it gave the young men a chance to show off to any of the other young noble women watching.
To Thanos’s surprise, Lucious didn’t join in the dance. He’d half expected the prince to do something foolish like trying to steal a kiss. Although, compared to the part where he’d tried to have Thanos killed, that would have been relatively innocuous.
Instead, the prince swaggered over while the dance was still in progress, pushing his way through the crowd with casual arrogance as he held a crystal goblet of the finest wine. Thanos looked at him and tried to find any similarity between them. They were both the king’s offspring, but Thanos could never imagine being anything like Lucious.
“It’s a beautiful wedding,” Lucious said to him. “All the things I like best: good food, better wine, plenty of serving girls around for later.”
“Watch yourself, Lucious,” Thanos said.
“I have a better idea,” Lucious countered. “Why don’t we both watch that lovely bride of yours, spinning between so many men? Of course, with it being Stephania, we could have a small wager on which of them she’s slept with.”
Thanos’s hands clenched into fists. “Are you just here to cause trouble? Because if so, you can get out.”
Lucious’s smile widened. “And how would that look, you trying to throw out the heir to the throne from your wedding? That wouldn’t go well.”
“Not for you.”
“Remember your place, Thanos,” Lucious snapped back.
“Oh, I know my place,” Thanos said in a dangerous voice. “We both do, don’t we?”
That got a faint flicker of reaction from Lucious. Even if Thanos hadn’t known it, it would have been confirmation: Lucious knew about the circumstances of Thanos’s birth. He knew they were half-brothers.
“Curse you and your marriage,” Lucious said.
“You’re just jealous,” Thanos countered. “I know you wanted Stephania for yourself, and now I’m the one marrying her. I’m the one who didn’t run away in the Stade. I’m the one who actually fought on Haylon. We both know what else I am. So what’s left for you, Lucious? You’re just a thug the people of Delos need protecting from.”
Thanos heard the crack as Lucious’s hand tightened around his crystal goblet, squeezing until it shattered.
“You like to protect the lesser orders, don’t you?” Lucious said. “Well, think about this: while you’ve been planning a wedding, I’ve been crushing villages. I will continue to do it. In fact, while you’re still in your marriage bed tomorrow morning, I’ll be riding out to teach another bunch of peasants a lesson. And there is nothing you can do about it, whoever you think you are.”
Thanos wanted to hit Lucious then. He wanted to hit him and keep hitting him until there was nothing left but a bloody smear on the marble floor. The only thing that stopped him was the touch of Stephania’s hand on his arm, approaching as her dance ended.
“Oh, Lucious, you’ve spilled your wine,” she said with a smile that Thanos wished he could match. “That won’t do at all. Allow one of my attendants to fetch you more.”
“I’ll get my own,” Lucious replied with obvious bad grace. “They got me this one, and look what happened to it.”
He stalked off, and only the pull of Stephania’s hand on his arm stopped Thanos from following.
“Leave it,” Stephania said. “I told you there are better ways, and there are. Trust me.”
“He can’t just get away with all he’s done,” Thanos insisted.
“He won’t. Look at it this way though,” she said. “Who would you rather spend the evening with? Lucious, or me?”
That brought a smile to Thanos’s lips. “You. Definitely you.”
Stephania kissed him. “Good answer.”
Thanos felt her hand slip into his, pulling him in the direction of the doors. The other nobles there let them pass, with occasional laughs about what would happen next. Thanos followed as Stephania led the way to Thanos’s rooms, pushing the door open and heading in the direction of the bed chamber. There, she turned to him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply.
“You don’t have any regrets?” Stephania asked, as she stepped back from him. “You’re happy you married me?”
“I’m very happy,” Thanos assured her. “What about you?”
“It’s all I ever wanted,” Stephania said. “And you know what I want now?”
“What?”
Thanos saw her reach up, and her dress fell from her in waves.
“You.”
***
Thanos woke to the first rays of sunlight spilling through the windows. Beside him, he could feel the warm pressure of Stephania’s presence, one of her arms thrown across him as she slept curled against him. Thanos smiled at the love welling up inside him. He was happier right now than he had been in a long time.
If he hadn’t heard the clink of harness and the whinnying of horses, he might have curled up against Stephania again and gone back to sleep, or woken her with a kiss. As it was, he rose, heading over to the window.
He was just in time to see Lucious leaving the castle, riding at the head of a group of soldiers, pennants flying in the wind as if he were some knight-errant on a quest rather than a butcher preparing to attack a defenseless village. Thanos looked out at him, then over at where Stephania was still sleeping.
Silently, he started to dress.
He couldn’t stand by. He couldn’t, not even for Stephania. She’d talked about better ways of dealing with Lucious, but what did they involve? Politeness and offering him wine? No, Lucious had to be stopped, right now, and there was only one way to do it.
Quietly, taking care not to wake Stephania, Thanos slipped from the room. Once he was clear, he ran for the stables, shouting for a servant to bring him his armor.
It was time for justice.
CHAPTER TWO
Berin could feel the excitement, the nervous energy palpable in the air the moment he stepped into the tunnels. He weaved his way underground, following Anka, Sartes by his side, passing guards who nodded with respect, rebels who hurried every which way. He walked through the Watcher’s Gate and felt the turn the Rebellion had taken.
Now, it seemed, they had a chance.
“This way,” Anka said, waving to a lookout. “The others await us.”
They walked down corridors of bare stone that looked as if they had stood forever. The Ruins of Delos, deep underground. Berin ran his hand along the smooth stone, admiring them as only a smith could, and marveled at how long these had stood, at who had built them. Maybe they even dated back to the days when the Ancient Ones had walked, long before anyone could remember.
And that made him think, with a pang, of the daughter he had lost.
Ceres.
Berin was yanked from that thought by the clang of hammers on metal, by the sudden heat of forge fires as they passed an opening. He saw a dozen men toiling away as they tried to produce breastplates and short swords. It reminded him of his old smithy, and brought back memories of the days when his family hadn’t been torn apart.
Sartes seemed to be staring, too.
“Are you all right?” Berin asked.
He nodded.
“I miss her too,” Berin replied, putting a hand on his shoulder, knowing he was thinking of Ceres, who always lingered by the forge.
“We all do,” Anka chimed in.
For a moment the three of them stood there, and Berin knew that they all understood how much Ceres had meant to them.
He heard Anka sigh.
“All we can do is keep fighting,” she added, “and keep forging weapons. We need you, Berin.”
He tried to focus.
“Are they doing everything I instructed?” he asked. “Are they heating the metal enough before quenching? It won’t harden otherwise.”
Anka smiled.
“Check for yourself after the meeting.”
Berin nodded. At least in some small way he could be useful.
***
Sartes walked by his father’s side, following Anka as they continued past the forge and deeper through the tunnels. There were more people in them than he could have believed. Men and women were gathering supplies, practicing with weapons, pacing the halls. Sartes recognized several of them as former conscripts, freed from the army’s clutches.
They finally came upon a cavernous space, set with stone plinths that might once have held statues. By the light of flickering candles, Sartes could see the leaders of the rebellion, awaiting them. Hannah, who had argued against the attack, now looked as happy as if she’d proposed it. Oreth, one of Anka’s main deputies now, leaned his slender frame against the wall, smiling to himself. Sartes spotted the larger bulk of the former wharf hand Edrin on the edge of the candlelight, while Yeralt’s jewels shone in it, the merchant’s son looking almost out of place among the rest as they laughed and joked among themselves.
They fell silent as the three of them approached, and Sartes could see the difference now. Before, they’d listened to Anka almost grudgingly. Now, after the ambush, there was respect there as she walked forward. She even looked more like a leader to Sartes, walking straighter, appearing more confident.
“Anka, Anka, Anka!” Oreth began, and soon the others took up the chant, as the rebels had after the battle.
Sartes joined in, hearing the rebel leader’s name echo around the space. He only stopped when Anka gestured for silence.
“We did well,” Anka said, with a smile of her own. It was one of the first Sartes had seen since the battle. She’d been too busy trying to arrange to get their casualties away from the burial ground safely. She had a talent for seeing to the details of things that had blossomed in the rebellion.
“Well?” Edrin asked. “We smashed them.”
Sartes heard the thud of the man’s fist against his palm as he emphasized the point.
“We destroyed them,” Yeralt agreed, “thanks to your leadership.”
Anka shook her head. “We beat them together. We beat them because we all did our parts. And because Sartes brought us the plans.”
Sartes found himself pushed forward by his father. He hadn’t been expecting this.
“Anka is right,” Oreth said. “We owe Sartes our thanks. He brought us the plans, and he was the one to persuade the conscripts not to fight. The rebellion has more members, thanks to him.”
“Half-trained conscripts though,” Hannah said. “Not real soldiers.”
Sartes looked around at her. She’d been quick to argue against him taking part at all. He didn’t like her, but it wasn’t about that in the rebellion. They were all a part of something bigger than themselves.
“We beat them,” Anka said. “We won a battle, but that isn’t the same thing as smashing the Empire. We still have a lot ahead of us.”
“And they still have a lot of soldiers,” Yeralt said. “A long war against them could prove costly for all of us.”
“You’re counting the cost now?” Oreth countered. “This isn’t some business investment, where you want to see the balance sheets before you get involved.”
Sartes could hear the annoyance there. When he’d first come to the rebels, he’d expected them to be some big, unified thing, thinking of nothing but the need to defeat the Empire. He’d found out that in a lot of ways they were just people, all with their own hopes and dreams, wishes and wants. It only made it more impressive that Anka had found ways to hold them together after Rexus died.
“It’s the biggest investment there is,” Yeralt said. “We put in all we have. We risk our lives in the hope that things will get better. I’m in as much danger as the rest of you if we fail.”
“We won’t fail,” Edrin said. “We beat them once. We’ll beat them again. We know where they’re going to attack and when. We can be waiting for them every time.”
“We can do more than that,” Hannah said. “We’ve shown people that we can beat them, so why not go out and take things back from them?”
“What did you have in mind?” Anka asked. Sartes could see that she was considering it.
“We take villages back one by one,” Hannah said. “We get rid of the Empire’s soldiers in them before Lucious can get close. We show the people there what’s possible, and he’ll get a nasty surprise when they rise up against him.”
“And when Lucious and his men kill them for rising up?” Oreth demanded. “What then?”
“Then it just shows how evil he is,” Hannah insisted.
“Or people see that we can’t protect them.”
Sartes looked around, surprised they were taking the idea seriously.
“We could leave people in the villages so that they don’t fall,” Yeralt suggested. “We have the conscripts with us now.”
“They won’t stand against the army for long if it comes,” Oreth shot back. “They’d die along with the villagers.”
Sartes knew he was right. The conscripts hadn’t had the training that the toughest soldiers in the army had. Worse, they’d suffered so much at the hands of the army that most of them would probably be terrified.
He saw Anka gesture for silence. This time, it took a little longer in coming.
“Oreth has a point,” she said.
“Of course you’d agree with him,” Hannah shot back.
“I’m agreeing because he’s right,” Anka said. “We can’t just go into villages, declare them free, and hope for the best. Even with the conscripts, we don’t have enough fighters. If we join together in one place, we give the Empire an opportunity to crush us. If we go after every village, they’ll pick us apart piecemeal.”
“If enough villages can be persuaded to rise up, and I persuade my father to hire mercenaries…” Yeralt suggested. Sartes noted he didn’t finish the thought. The merchant’s son didn’t have an answer, not really.
“Then what?” Anka asked. “We’ll have the numbers? If it were that simple, we would have overthrown the Empire years ago.”
“We have better weapons now thanks to Berin,” Edrin pointed out. “We know their plans thanks to Sartes. We have the advantage! Tell her, Berin. Tell her about the blades you’ve made.”
Sartes looked around to his father, who shrugged.
“It’s true I’ve made good swords, and the others here have made plenty of passable ones. It’s true that some of you will have armor now, rather than being cut down. But I’ll tell you this: it’s about more than the sword. It’s about the hand that wields it. An army is like a blade. You can make it as big as you want, but without a core of good steel, it will break the first time you test it.”
Maybe if the others had spent more time making weapons, they would have understood how seriously his father meant his words. As it was, Sartes could see they weren’t convinced.
“What else can we do?” Edrin asked. “We’re not just going to throw away our advantage by sitting back and waiting. I say that we start making a list of villages to free. Unless you have a better idea, Anka?”
“I do,” Sartes said.
His voice was quieter than he intended. He stepped forward, his heart pounding, surprised that he had spoken. He was all too aware that he was far younger than anyone else there. He’d played his part in the battle, he’d even killed a man, but there was still a part of him that felt as though he shouldn’t be speaking there.
“So it’s settled,” Hannah started to say. “We – ”
“I said I have a better idea,” Sartes said, and this time, his voice carried.
The others looked over at him.
“Let my son speak,” his father said. “You’ve said yourselves that he helped to hand one victory to you. Maybe he can keep you from dying now.”
“What’s your idea, Sartes?” Anka asked.
They were all looking at him. Sartes forced himself to raise his voice, thinking about how Ceres would have spoken, but also about the confidence Anka had shown before.
“We can’t go to the villages,” Sartes said. “It’s what they want us to do. And we can’t just rely on the maps I brought, because even if they haven’t realized that we know their movements, they will soon. They’re trying to goad us out into the open.”
“We know all this,” Yeralt said. “I thought you said you had a plan.”
Sartes didn’t back down.
“What if there were a way to hit the Empire where they don’t expect it and gain tough fighters into the bargain? What if we could make people rise up with a symbolic victory that would be bigger than protecting a village?”
“What did you have in mind?” Anka asked.
“We free the combatlords in the Stade,” Sartes said.
A long, stunned silence followed, as the others stared at him. He could see the doubt in their faces, and Sartes knew he had to keep going.
“Think about it,” he said. “Almost all combatlords are slaves. The nobles throw them in to die like toys. Most of them would be grateful for the chance to get away, and they can fight better than any soldiers.”
“It’s insane,” Hannah said. “Attacking the heart of the city like that. There would be guards everywhere.”
“I like it,” Anka said.
The others looked at her, and Sartes felt a rush of gratitude for her support.
“They wouldn’t expect it,” she added.
Another silence fell over the room.
“We wouldn’t need mercenaries,” Yeralt finally chimed in, rubbing his chin.
“People would rise up,” Edrin added.
“We’d have to do it when the Killings were on,” Oreth pointed out. “That way, all the combatlords would be in one place, and there would be people there to see it happen.”
