Free A Joust of Knights (Book #16 in the Sorcerer's Ring) by Morgan Rice

blood flowed through her. As he studied her, he
noticed her beautiful blue eyes glistening, and he sensed something was different
about her—he was not quite sure what. He felt as if she were withholding
something from him.
    She looked back at him questioningly.
    “What is it, my lord?” she finally asked.
    He hesitated.
    “You seem…different these past days,” he
said. “I’m not sure how. I feel you are perhaps…withholding some secret from me.”
    Alistair blushed and looked away, and he
felt sure that she was.
    “It is… nothing, my lord,” she said. “I
am just distracted by the departure of my brother. I worry for Thorgrin, for Guwayne.
And I wish to be reunited with our people again.”
    Erec nodded, and understood—though he
was still not quite convinced.
    “Erec!” suddenly shouted a voice, and
Erec turned to see Strom beckoning him at the bow of the ship, agitated.
    There was a sudden commotion as men
rushed forward for the front of the ship, and Erec broke into action and raced
across the deck, Alistair beside him.
    Erec weaved his way between men until he
finally reached the bow. Waiting for him was Strom, who handed him a long
looking glass and pointed upriver.
    “There,” Strom said urgently, “to your
right. That small speck.”
    Erec looked closely through the glass,
holding it to his eye, the world moving up and down as they sailed through the
current, and slowly, it came into view. It appeared to be a small Empire
village, perched at the river’s edge.
    “It will be the first village we’ve
encountered since entering this land,” Strom said beside him. “They could be
hostile.”
    Erec continued looking through the
glass, taking it all in as they got neared, the wind carrying them closer with
each passing moment. It was a quaint village, comprised of one-story clay houses,
smoke rising from chimneys, children and dogs running about. Erec spotted women
walking about casually, unafraid, and in the distance, men farming and a few
fishing. From their dark skin and small stature, they appeared to be not of the
Empire race; they seemed a peaceful people, perhaps under the Empire’s
subjugation.
    Indeed, as Erec waited patiently for the
current to carry them closer, he was surprised to see these people were of the
human race—and as he looked closely, he spotted Empire taskmasters positioned throughout
the village, holding whips. He watched a woman scream out as a taskmaster lashed
her across the back, forcing her to drop her child.
    Erec grew hot with indignation. He did a
quick tally and counted perhaps a hundred Empire taskmasters spread throughout
this village of several hundred peaceful folk.
    He lowered the glass and handed it back
to Strom, determined.
    “Prepare your bows!” he shouted back to
his men. “We sail into battle!”
    His men cheered, clearly thrilled to be
back into action, and they lined up along the rail and took positions high in
the masts, bows and arrows at the ready.
    “This is not our battle, my lord,” said
one of his commanders, coming up beside him. “Our battle awaits us far on the
horizon. Should we not press on, and leave this village alone?”
    Erec stood, hands on his hips, and shook
his head.
    “To sail onwards,” he replied, “would be
to turn our back on justice. That would make us less of who we are.”
    “But there is injustice everywhere, my
lord,” his commander countered. “Are we to be the knights for the world?”
    Erec remained determined.
    “Whatever is put before our eyes is put
before there for a reason,” he replied. “If we do not make an attempt to rectify
it, then who are we?”
    Erec turned to his men.
    “Do not show yourselves until my command!”
Erec yelled out.
    His men quickly knelt, concealing
themselves beneath the rail, preparing for the confrontation to come.
    As their fleet of ships neared the
village, rocking in the river’s current, Erec sailed out in front, taking the
lead—and soon, the villagers caught