By Right of Sword

People for the American Way
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Brienne tried to give it back to Jaime at Riverrun in season six, but he let her keep it.

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What timing! But when Jorah fled Westeros, he left Longclaw behind in shame, and so it got sent back to Jeor. Lyanna Mormont was a little too young to wield it, I guess. Jeor then gave it away a second time, to his substitute son Jon Snow as a way of thanking Jon for saving him from a wight attack. Jon has carried it ever since. What a guy!

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Before the Tyrells stumbled into, uh, bigger problems. I was amazed that such blatant allegory had succeeded in not only stirring my imagination but also in convicting my soul. And that is the power of a good fantasy book. It can provide spiritual lessons that are easier to accept because we understand them in a fictional setting, and it can remind us of the stark contrast between good and evil.

The most effective stories remind us that we are created beings accountable to an all-powerful God and we are either for him or against him. Fantasy stories written from the Christian worldview provide some of the strongest scenarios of all, thanks to these facts: 1 An all-powerful God can exact terrible retribution on those who defy him, and 2 Christian writers value repentance which of course brings about the greatest evolution of characters in stories through transformation.

We are at an exciting time in Christian fiction. We still only have a handful of solidly written and truly original fantasy works available, but slowly that is changing. Risking a quick look over the scree he was resting on, he saw her. There, in the centre of the maelstrom was the Dragon Princess. She was as beautiful as ever, Gonald thought with a sigh. All those years of following her trail of destruction, building the hatred inside him with every step he took and at the end of it all, she still had the same power over him as she did when she was a child. Ducking down behind the summit, Gonald chided himself for being a fool.

This is where it ends. This is your revenge. Now, go down there, whip Drynwideon out and take her cursed head off with it! Looking down at himself, he quickly rubbed as much of the dirt off his body as he could and adjusted his leather shorts and chest-piece for maximal impact, in true hero style. With a final, casual flick of his wrist, he swept his golden locks away from his eyes and jumped up with a roar to face his destiny. Balancing for a moment on the edge of the summit and not even bothering to dodge the flying rocks, which just bounced off him, he cast a truly magnificent figure.

Lit from all angles by the deadly bolts of lightning, he was the mighty hero personified. He was justice and his time was now. Leaping with an even bigger roar, his descent of the scree slope on the other side of the summit was absolutely perfect. Almost floating on the sliding carpet of stones, he came to a stop just metres from the Dragon Princess, a look of pure fury on his rugged features. The Dragon Princess regarded him impassively. Your reign of terror is over.

I have returned to do what I should have done all those years ago.

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She looked wonderful tonight, he mused absentmindedly. That was the problem with barbarian heroes.

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Free kindle book and epub digitized and proofread by Project Gutenberg. By Right of Sword book. Read 2 reviews from the world's largest community for readers. MY DEAR RUPERT. Don't worry your head about me. I shall be all r.

Even when they were supposed to be working, they were always so easily distracted by matters of the flesh. Standing there, dressed in a jet-black, figure-hugging, one-piece dress, her raven hair held in place against the raging storm by a gold filigree net with a recurring dragon motif, it was hard to believe that she was the source of all evil in the land and his sworn enemy. And as a fully-grown woman, she was even more beautiful than he remembered.

Her ruby red lips lay in stark relief to her pale, angular face, but as always, it was the eyes that mesmerised him. Killer of giants, maker of truths, the sword of destiny itself. Is that so? Gonald looked on in amazement as the Dragon Princess made a strange circular motion with her arms. And there, where before there was only air, appeared his mighty club, which she grabbed and straddled provocatively in the classic barbarian pose.

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Let us fight! Together they whirled around the summit of Mount Terror, locked in a deadly dance, each anticipating the moves of the other, each recalling the many years that they had fought together side by side. As they spun around, lunging, feinting, sweeping and slashing, neither could get the upper hand. As the minutes turned into hours, fatigue began to set in, but neither Gonald nor the Dragon Princess showed the slightest signs of relenting.

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Momentarily stunned by the blow, she fell back, raising her hand to her face and feeling the warm blood dripping from the wound. Gonald hesitated, reluctant to press home his advantage and in that moment Ka lowered her hand and still retreating, regarded him with an icy cold stare of pure hatred.

Screaming as he went, the Dragon Princess regarded him coolly. Instead, it had turned a dull grey colour, more like iron than steel. Staring at the sword in confusion and frustration, Gonald slowly looked across at the Dragon Princess. Then he looked up at the Dragon Princess. Having fully transformed into her dragon aspect, she towered above him, scales glistening black in the night sky, a red glow deep in her belly, warning of the terrible fire she carried within her.

Gonald felt something warm trickle down his leg as he once again raised the useless sword in defence.

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Regarding him through now golden eyes, the Dragon Princess spread her enormous wings, blocking out the noise of the storm raging around them. As the gout of deadly flame sped towards him, he watched in horror as Drynwideon melted before his eyes, the sword becoming nothing more than a pool of molten metal at his feet. That was the problem with heroes, thought Drin, as he reached over and cut another slab of meat from the hunk that was slowly sizzling over the fire. They never did their homework properly, just rushed around killing and smiting everything in sight, and ended up getting roasted alive by the Dragon Princess.

It was the same story every time. Last night it had been the tale of Chiro the Magnificent… burned alive along with his trusty battle axe.

The night before that, the saga of Waldorf the Enchanter, who travelled the length and breadth of the land in search of the mythical spear of Arragonof, only to find it at the foot of Mount Terror, where he ended up as a pile of charred bones. And then there was Jackman the Brave, who had actually managed to raise an entire army against the Dragon Princess, only to have both it and himself incinerated when he finally marched against her.

At the very least, Gonald should have talked to the dwarfs before marching off and killing the Elf King. Rolling back towards the fire, Drin smiled to himself and brandished his dagger, playfully swiping it around in the air in mock-barbarian fashion, before slicing another chunk of roasting meat off the slab. Mmmm, the food tonight was really good he thought as the hot, greasy juices ran down his throat and into his ever-greedy belly. Yes, things were bleak indeed. The earth was scorched and scarred from the ravages of Ka and her Dragon Army.

A few years before, things had been grim, before that things had been desolate and before that things were dire. There was even a time when Drin was only a young boy when things had actually been hopeless. But that was then and Drin was ever hopeful of a time when things would be only austere, or perhaps even just a bit dreary. If you liked him that much, you should have told him while he was still alive, not waited until now to declare your eternal love.

Drin had forgotten that Boggor had sat down next to him that night and now he was paying the price for having not moved sooner. Boggor was not particularly well muscled, but was more heavily set than the other villagers and used his size to compensate for his total lack of brains. I helped drag him into the temple for the finishing ceremony earlier today.