A Sea of Shields (Book #10 in the Sorcerer's Ring) Read Online Free PDF Page A

fellow soldiers, knocking them down with a crash.
    For a second there was a pause, as the room turned to look at the group of soldiers on the floor.
    But then the soldiers bounced back up, screaming and laughing and cheering, and to Godfrey’s relief, the festivities continued.
    “Would you say they’ve had enough?” Godfrey asked, beginning to wonder if this was all a bad idea.
    Akorth looked at him blankly.
    “Enough?” he asked. “Is there such a thing?”
    Godfrey noticed that he himself was slurring his words, and his mind was not as sharp as he would have liked. Still, he was beginning to sense something turn in the room, as if something was not quite as it should be. It was all a bit too much, as if the room had lost all sense of self-restraint.
    “Don’t touch her!” someone suddenly screamed out. “She’s mine!”
    The tone of the voice was dark, dangerous, cutting through the air and making Godfrey turn.
    On the far side of the hall a MacGil soldier stood, chest out, arguing with a McCloud; the McCloud reached out and snatched a woman off of the MacGil’s lap, wrapping one arm around her waist and yanking her backwards.
    “She was yours. She’s mine now! Go find another!”
    The MacGil’s expression darkened, and he drew his sword. The distinctive sound cut through the room, making every head turn.
    “I said she’s mine !” he screamed.
    His face was bright red, hair matted with sweat, and the entire room watched, riveted by the deadly tone.
    Everything stopped abruptly and the room grew quiet, as both sides of the room watched, frozen. The McCloud, a large, beefy man, grimaced, took the woman, and threw her roughly to the side. She went flying into the crowd, stumbling and falling.
    The McCloud clearly didn’t care about the woman; it was now obvious to all that bloodshed was what he really wanted, not the woman.
    The McCloud drew his own sword, and faced off.
    “It will be your life for hers!” the McCloud said.
    Soldiers backed away on all sides, allowing a small clearing for them to fight, and Godfrey saw everyone tensing up. He knew he had to stop this before it turned into a full-fledged war.
    Godfrey jumped over the table, slipping on mugs of beer, scurried across the hall, and ran into the midst of the clearing, between the two men, holding out his palms to keep them at bay.
    “Men!” he cried, slurring his words. He tried to stay focused, to make his mind think clearly, and he sincerely regretted having drunk as much as he had now.
    “We’re all men here!” he shouted. “We are all one people! One army! There’s no need for a fight! There are plenty of women to go around! Neither of you meant it!”
    Godfrey turned to MacGil, and MacGil stood there, frowning, holding his sword.
    “If he apologizes, I will accept it,” MacGil said.
    The McCloud stood there, confused, then suddenly his expression softened, and he broke into a smile.
    “Then I apologize!” the McCloud called out, holding out his left hand.
    Godfrey stepped aside, and the MacGil took it warily, the two of them shaking hands.
    As they did, though, suddenly the McCloud clasped the MacGil’s hand, yanked him in close, raised his sword, and stabbed him right in the chest.
    “I apologize,” he added, “for not killing you sooner! MacGil scum!”
    The MacGil fell to the ground, limp, blood pouring onto the floor.
    Dead.
    Godfrey stood there in shock. He was just a foot away from the soldiers, and he could not help but feel as if somehow this were all his fault. He had encouraged the MacGil to drop his guard; he was the one who had tried to broker the truce. He had been betrayed by this McCloud, made a fool of in front of all his men.
    Godfrey was not thinking clearly, and fueled by drink, something inside him snapped.
    In one quick motion, Godfrey bent down, snatched the dead MacGil’s sword, stepped up, and stabbed the McCloud through the heart.
    The McCloud stared back, eyes wide in shock, then slumped down to