A Rule of Queens (Book #13 in the Sorcerer's Ring) Read Online Free PDF

and felt a great heat rising up in her forehead, between
her eyes. She felt herself stronger than everything, stronger than her shackles,
stronger than all things material.
    Alistair opened her eyes, and as time began to
speed again, she looked up and saw Bowyer coming down with the ax, a scowl on
his face.
    In one motion, Alistair turned and raised her
arms, and as she did, this time her shackles snapped as if they were twigs. In
the same motion, lightning fast, she rose to her feet, raised one palm toward Bowyer,
and as his ax came down, the most incredible thing happened: the ax dissolved.
It turned to ashes and dust and fell at a heap at her feet.
    Bowyer swung down, nothing in his hand, and he
went stumbling, falling to his knees.
    Alistair wheeled and her eyes were drawn to a sword
on the far side of the clearing, in a soldier’s belt. She reached out her other
palm and commanded it come to her; as she did, it lifted from his scabbard and
flew through the air, right into her outstretched palm.
    In a single motion, Alistair grabbed hold of
it, spun around, raised it high, and brought it down on the back of Bowyer’s
exposed neck.
    The crowd gasped in shock as there came the
sound of steel cutting through flesh and Bowyer, beheaded, collapsed to the
ground, lifeless.
    He lay there, dead, in the exact spot where,
just moments before, he had wanted Alistair dead.
    There came a cry from the crowd, and Alistair
looked out to watch Dauphine break free of the soldier’s grip, then grab the
soldier’s dagger from his belt and slice his throat. In the same motion, she
spun around and cut loose Strom’s ropes. Strom immediately reached back,
grabbed a sword from a soldier’s waist, spun and slashed, killing three of
Bowyer’s men before they could even react.
    With Bowyer dead, there was a moment of
hesitation, as the crowd clearly didn’t know what to do next. Shouts rose up
all amongst the crowd, as his death clearly emboldened all those who had been
allied with him reluctantly. They were re-examining their alliance, especially
as dozens of men loyal to Erec broke through the ranks and came charging
forward to Strom’s side, fighting with him, hand-to-hand, against those loyal to
Bowyer.
    The momentum quickly shifted in the favor of
Erec’s men, as man by man, row by row, alliances formed; Bowyer’s men, caught
off guard, turned and fled across the plateau to the rocky mountainside. Strom
and his men chased closed behind.
    Alistair stood there, sword still in hand, and
watched as a great battle rose up, up and down the countryside, shouts and
horns echoing as the entire island seemed to rally, to spill out to war on both
sides. The sound of clanging armor, of the death cries of men, filled the
morning, and Alistair knew a civil war had broken out.
    Alistair held up her sword, the sun shining
down on it, and knew she had been saved by the grace of God. She felt reborn,
more powerful than she’d ever had, and she felt her destiny calling to her. She
welled with optimism. Bowyer’s men would be killed, she knew. Justice would
prevail. Erec would rise. They would wed. And soon, she would be Queen of the
Southern Isles.

CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    Darius ran down the dirt trail leading from his
village, following the footprints toward Volusia, a determination in his heart to
save Loti and murder the men who took her. He ran with a sword in his hand—a real sword, made of real metal—the first time he’d ever wielded real metal in
his life. That alone, he knew, would be enough to have him, and his entire
village, killed. Steel was taboo—even his father and his father’s father feared
to possess it—and Darius knew he had crossed a line in which there was now no
turning back.
    But Darius no longer cared. The injustice of
his life had been too much. With Loti gone, he cared about nothing but
retrieving her. He had hardly had a chance to know her, and yet paradoxically,
he felt as if she were his whole life. It was one thing