Ruler, Rival, Exile

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 (http://www.amazon.com/Quest-Heroes-Book-Sorcerers-Ring/dp/B00F9VJRXG/ref=la_B004KYW5SW_1_13_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1379619328&sr=1-13) to THE SORCERER’S RING series in audio book format!

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Dedicated to the memory of Rebekah Barrett

A wonderful, loving soul, whose life on this earth was far too short-and a true warrior in her own right. May God grant your soul peace, and peace to Shania's soul and to that of your wonderful mother, Rhonda

CHAPTER ONE

Irrien loved the joy of battle, the thrill of knowing that he was stronger than a foe – yet seeing the aftermath of his conquest was far better.

He strode through the ruins of Delos, watching the looting, listening to the screams of the weak as his men killed and plundered, raped and smashed. Strings of new slaves walked in chains toward the docks, while already, a market in looted goods and captured peasants had sprung up in one of the squares. He forced himself to ignore the pain in his shoulder while he walked. His men couldn’t see him weak.

So much of the city was broken now, but Irrien didn’t care about that. What was broken could be rebuilt with enough slaves working under the lash. It could be rebuilt in the shape he wanted.

Of course, there were others who had their demands. Currently, they followed him like sharks following a trail of blood, warriors and priests and more. There were representatives from the other Stones of Felldust, chattering about the roles their masters could play in the looting. There were merchants, wanting to offer the most favorable rates for transporting Irrien’s looted goods back to the lands of endless dust.

Irrien ignored them for the most part, but they kept coming.

“First Stone,” a figure said. He wore the robes of a priest, complete with a belt made from finger bones and holy symbols twisted into his beard with silver wire. An amulet set with bloodstones marked him as one of the highest of his order.

“What is it you want, holy one?” Irrien asked. He rubbed his shoulder absently as he spoke, hoping no one would guess the reason.

The priest spread hands tattooed with runes that danced with every twitch of his fingers.

“It is not what I want, but what the gods require. They have given us victory. It is only right that we thank them with a suitable sacrifice.”

“Are you saying that the victory was not due to the strength of my arm?” Irrien demanded. He let the threat seep into his voice. He used the priests when it suited him, but he would not let them control him.

“Even the strongest must acknowledge the favor of the gods.”