A Rite of Swords (Book #7 in the Sorcerer's Ring) Read Online Free Page B

think
you’re better than us?”
    “I’m no better than the next
man,” Steffen said.
    “That much is obvious,” laughed
another.
    “Enough of the banter!” cried one
of the villagers in a serious tone.
    He stepped forward and pushed the
others aside with a strong palm. He was older than the others and looked to be
a serious man. The crowd quieted in his presence.
    “If you mean what you say,” the
man said in his deep, brusque voice, “I can use an extra set of hands on my
mill. Pay is a sack of grain a day and a jug of water. You sleep in the barn,
with the rest of the village boys. If that’s agreeable to you, I will have you
on.”
    Steffen nodded back, satisfied to
finally see a serious man.
    “I ask for nothing more,” he
said.
    “This way,” the man said, parting
his way through the crowd.
    Steffen followed him, and was led
to a huge, wooden gristmill, all around which were teenagers and men. Each of
them, sweating and covered in dirt, stood in the muddy tracks and pushed a
massive wooden wheel, each grabbing a spoke and walking forward with it.
Steffen stood there, surveyed the work, and realized it would be back-breaking
labor. It would do.
    Steffen turned to tell the man he
would accept, but the man had already gone, assuming he would. The villagers,
with a few final heckles, turned back to their affairs while Steffen looked
ahead at the wheel, at the new life that lay ahead of him.
    For a glimmer in time, he had been
weak, had allowed himself to dream. He had imagined a life of castles and
royalty and rank. Had seen himself being an important person, the hand of the
Queen. He should have known better than to think so high. He, of course, was
not meant for that. He never had been. What had happened to him, meeting
Gwendolyn, had been a fluke. Now, his life would be relegated to this. But
this, at least, was a life he knew. A life he understood. A life of hardship.
And without Gwendolyn in it, this life would be just as well for him.

CHAPTER
SIX
     
     
    Thor urged Mycoples faster as
they raced through the clouds, getting ever closer to the Tower of Refuge. Thor
felt with every ounce of his being that Gwen was in danger. He felt the
vibration running through his fingertips, throughout his entire body, telling
him, warning him. Go faster, it whispered to him.
    Faster .
    “Faster!” Thor urged Mycoples.
    Mycoples roared softly in return,
flapping her great wings harder. Thor had not even needed to utter the
words—Mycoples understood everything, before he even said it—but he spoke the
words anyway. They made him feel better. He was feeling helpless. He sensed
that something was very wrong with Gwen, and that every second counted.
    They finally broke through a
patch of clouds and as they did, Thor was flooded with relief as he saw it come
into view, in the distance: the Tower of Refuge. It was an ancient and eerie
piece of architecture, a perfectly round, skinny tower shooting straight up
into the sky, reaching nearly as high as the clouds. Built of an ancient,
shining black stone, Thor could sense the power coming off it, even from here.
    As they flew closer, suddenly he
spotted something up high, atop the tower. It was a person. She was standing on
the ledge, hands out, palms by her sides. Her eyes were closed, and she was
swaying in the wind.
    Thor knew immediately who it was.
    Gwendolyn.
    His heart pounded as he saw her
standing there. He knew what she was thinking. And he knew why. She thought he
had given up on her, and he could not help feeling as if it were his fault.
    “FASTER!” Thor screamed.
    Mycoples flapped her wings even
harder, and they flew so fast it took Thor’s breath away.
    As they neared, Thor watched Gwen
step backwards, off the ledge, back onto the safety of the roof, and his heart
flooded with relief. Without even seeing him, on her own, she had changed her
mind and decided not to jump.
    Mycoples roared and Gwen looked
up and spotted Thor for the first time. Their eyes