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Back The Lost Books Save as PDF
Chapters (132)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. CHOSEN: LOST BOOK 1
  3. BEGINNINGS
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. INFIDEL: LOST BOOK 2
  35. BEGINNINGS
  36. ONE
  37. TWO
  38. THREE
  39. FOUR
  40. FIVE
  41. SIX
  42. SEVEN
  43. EIGHT
  44. NINE
  45. TEN
  46. ELEVEN
  47. TWELVE
  48. THIRTEEN
  49. FOURTEEN
  50. FIFTEEN
  51. SIXTEEN
  52. SEVENTEEN
  53. EIGHTEEN
  54. NINETEEN
  55. TWENTY
  56. TWENTY-ONE
  57. TWENTY-TWO
  58. TWENTY-THREE
  59. TWENTY-FOUR
  60. TWENTY-FIVE
  61. TWENTY-SIX
  62. TWENTY-SEVEN
  63. RENEGADE: LOST BOOK 3
  64. BEGINNINGS
  65. ONE
  66. TWO
  67. THREE
  68. FOUR
  69. FIVE
  70. SIX
  71. SEVEN
  72. EIGHT
  73. NINE
  74. TEN
  75. ELEVEN
  76. TWELVE
  77. THIRTEEN
  78. FOURTEEN
  79. FIFTEEN
  80. SIXTEEN
  81. SEVENTEEN
  82. EIGHTEEN
  83. NINETEEN
  84. TWENTY
  85. TWENTY-ONE
  86. TWENTY-TWO
  87. TWENTY-THREE
  88. TWENTY-FOUR
  89. TWENTY-FIVE
  90. TWENTY-SIX
  91. TWENTY-SEVEN
  92. TWENTY-EIGHT
  93. TWENTY-NINE
  94. THIRTY
  95. THIRTY-ONE
  96. THIRTY-TWO
  97. THIRTY-THREE
  98. THIRTY-FOUR
  99. THIRTY-FIVE
  100. THIRTY-SIX
  101. THIRTY-SEVEN
  102. CHAOS: LOST BOOK 4
  103. BEGINNINGS
  104. ONE
  105. TWO
  106. THREE
  107. FOUR
  108. FIVE
  109. SIX
  110. SEVEN
  111. EIGHT
  112. NINE
  113. TEN
  114. ELEVEN
  115. TWELVE
  116. THIRTEEN
  117. FOURTEEN
  118. FIFTEEN
  119. SIXTEEN
  120. SEVENTEEN
  121. EIGHTEEN
  122. NINETEEN
  123. TWENTY
  124. TWENTY-ONE
  125. TWENTY-TWO
  126. TWENTY-THREE
  127. TWENTY-FOUR
  128. TWENTY-FIVE
  129. TWENTY-SIX
  130. TWENTY-SEVEN
  131. TWENTY-EIGHT
  132. TWENTY-NINE

He paced back to the sideline, studying the line of twelve on his right, then the line on his left. Behind him the ball of hair lay undisturbed.

To win, one team had to run to the middle, pick up the ball, and cross the other team’s goal line. What seemed simple enough was made very difficult by the fact that the other team was armed with fighting sticks.

The day had started with a hundred of the most promising recruits. Seventy-six had been dismissed, seventeen of them on stretchers.

It was down to these two teams of twelve each.

Thomas raised his sword high, then swung it down hard. “Go!”

The two lines of recruits silently bolted from where they crouched and raced toward the ball on a collision course.

THREE

THREE

For a count of five, the only sound Johnis could hear was the thudding of feet as the two lines sprinted for each other. Silvie, the wiry fireball with short blond hair, was the first to reach the ball.

She’d just scooped it up when the lines collided with a tremendous thud. Then the sound of sticks smashing filled the stadium with bone-jarring cracks.

The crowd erupted in a roar of support that smothered the grunts of the contestants. The leafy trees surrounding the oval amphitheater seemed to shake on all sides, sending birds scattering for cover. Possums, lizards, rodents, and smaller animals of all shapes and sizes ran into their holes as if they knew that their future, too, was at stake in this game.

Silvie ducked under a vicious swing from a fighter named Jackov, the largest and clearly the strongest one on the field. She came up under his extended arm with her own stick, but Jackov was too skilled to be fooled so easily. He deflected her weapon with the shield on his left arm and knocked the ball loose with his knee. The football flew high, then landed in the tangle of bodies, lost from sight.

“Think!” Thomas screamed. “Use your heads! For the sake of Elyon, use your heads!”

If the players on the field were not all highly skilled at deflecting blows with their leather-wrapped forearms, they would undoubtedly all be dead, Johnis thought. They would at least be a pile of broken bones.

“Better to break an arm here among friends than have your head cut off in the desert,” Thomas cried to all who protested the brutal fighting. These were desperate times, and they called for desperate measures.

Billos, the seventeen-year-old snake-quick fighter who was known as “the bulldog,” slid out of the mess and ran around the sparring teams, searching for the ball.

He darted in, snatched something near Darsal’s feet, took two steps toward the opposite goal, and came face-to-face with Jackov. The big boy swung his stick at Billos’s chest. The wood landed with a blow that rose over the crowd noise.

Thud!