Each According Their Worth: Touch of Insanity, #4

By Rosa Marchisella

A rescue mission ends with a devastating death and throws Besamie into war. An unexpected knighting brings Kharee face-to-face with the god, Tomar, where she finally learns the secret of her creation and the sole purpose of her existence.

 

After a brutal winter of preparation, Ben and Chasing Rabbit are finally brought to justice for their crimes. The night before their first battle, murder, conspiracy, and the unpredictable taint of Mischa's insanity skew reality. Kharee and her companions vanish from their camp, leaving their world without the promised Healer.

 

Touch of Insanity is a complete series with cliffhangers that require the books to be read in order.

Book 1: First Steps

Book 2: Abbey Isle

Book 3: Forging Ahead

Book 4: Each According Their Worth Book

5: Into Darkness

Book 6: The Fallen

Book 7: The Birth of Pain

Book 8: The Great Divide

Book 9: Tarna'Hala

Book 10: From Ashes

Book 11: Blood of Darkness

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ember Park Imprint
• Release date: Apr 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781989016077

Rosa Marchisella

Rosa Marchisella is the author of the gripping Touch of Insanity series and bone-chilling novella, The Greatest of Books. Her stories focus on fantasy, paranormal, and thrilling adventures. A dynamic and prolific story-teller, Rosa has earned critical praise as a writer, stage actress, vocalist, public speaker, and artist. Her hobbies include gardening, hikes, and playing games with her kids.

Book preview

Chapter 1

image-placeholder

Sir Charlan steered us off the main road, which rambled westward toward Dover before swinging north to Barron Gane. His drive to reach the city flew us straight as arrows through bushland and wild fields.

Foss and I flanked Sir Charlan, with Benefaction and Chasing Rabbit behind. The dwarves rode sentry on opposite sides of our group, scanning for trouble.

Riders. Gilum pointed.

A group of riders approached across the field. They outnumbered us twice over and had the distinct appearance of trouble.

Sir Charlan shifted in his saddle. "I suggest we alter our path. We can’t afford any delay, even to exchange . . . greetings."

We swung east toward the river, and the riders changed course to head straight for us. I readied my bow and arrows. Gor followed my example. The others kept a hand on their weapons but did not draw. If the riders weren’t looking for trouble, we didn’t want to encourage any.

The riders drew their weapons and charged with whooping war cries as they came within hailing distance.

So much for avoiding delays.

My companions surged forward to meet our attackers. Gor and I fired arrows into the enemy ranks and reduced their number by four before combat became too close to risk hitting our friends.

Trading the bow for my staff, I slid from Dancer’s back and pulled a passing rider from his mount. The man grabbed my arm as he fell. I jerked from his grasp, bringing my knee to connect with the back of his head. He bit his tongue, and blood sputtered from his mouth as he landed heavily in the grass. I brought the butt of my staff down hard and crushed his throat.

I didn’t dare to hesitate. If we died, Mayor Trevan and his people would too. If we were captured, I would no doubt be raped. Survival spurred me on either way.

I turned to meet my next opponent. A sword whistled toward my head, and I barely had time to raise my staff in defense. The jarring impact ached my shoulders. I cursed under my breath and tightened my grip on the staff. I was in dangerous territory. I’d never fought anyone on horseback before and didn’t know if my staff would be adequate.

I braced the staff with my leg and pulled out a hunting knife. The rider laughed, and my face burned. I was about to discover if it was realistic to fight with both staff and blade . . . May Tomar shelter me if it isn’t.

I banged his mount’s legs with the staff, and the horse scampered back. The rider’s sword swept by my head. I ducked, slashing at the saddle ties. Feeling the cold metal of my knife on its belly, the horse bucked. Both rider and saddle went flying. The rider landed with a pained grunt. Before he could regain his senses, I drove the end of my staff into his temple. He did not rise.

I surveyed my surroundings. We had quickly and efficiently neutralized the threat with only minor injuries to ourselves. I sheathed my knife and muttered thanks to Tomar.

A skin-crawling roar drowned my words. Gilum swung his wicked axe at me. I sidestepped and swept my staff in an arch to parry the devastating downswing of his blade. I connected with the axe behind its head. My wrists protested as I pushed the weapon from its deadly path toward my chest.

Gilum, stop! I’m not your enemy!

Gilum did not hesitate in his next swing. I parried again.

I had to stop him. I couldn’t continue defending against the powerful blows of a battleaxe. I would tire or simply miss a block and be killed.

I rapped his fingers with my staff, hoping he’d drop his weapon. No luck. Gilum would not separate from the axe.

Foss approached Gilum from behind and slammed the pommel of his scimitar against the dwarf’s skull. Gilum’s eyes rolled, and he dropped into a heap at my feet.

I leaned against my staff, weak-kneed. H-he tried to kill me.

I don’t think it was on purpose. Some warriors enter a battle rage during combat. They’ll kill anything that moves before coming out of it. Foss sheathed his scimitar. I’ve never actually seen it, though.

I hope never to again, I replied. But why now? He’s never done this before.

Who knows?

While catching my breath, I studied the horses our enemy rode. They appeared in good health and were trained for combat. Except for the saddle I cut, their tack and gear were intact.

A rumbling belch announced Gilum’s return to consciousness.

I tensed as he stood.

Gor muttered something in dwarven, and Gilum glanced at me with an inscrutable expression. I held his gaze. He shrugged and ambled to the body nearest him.

I frowned as he searched pockets and bags. His disrespect for both me and the dead was irksome. Mother’s lessons never covered what a person should do after attempting to murder one’s companion, but I was certain an apology was in order. As for the fallen, I had to grant they might have some useful items hidden away.

Sir Charlan ran a hand over the flank of a large roan. The extra horses will allow us to rotate mounts and set a faster pace.

These poor beasts must be set free, Ben protested. Can you not see that they have been oppressed and forced into servitude?

You do realize these are horses we are talking about? I asked.

He snorted. Of course.

Then, you realize they’re an asset that can help us save lives.

Who can compare the freedom of one creature to the life of another?

I frowned, jaw tense. Whatever he was trying to prove was lost on me. Perhaps he was just being a nuisance or possibly turning over a new leaf. Either way, I didn’t have patience for it.

I can, I snapped. So can your king. Would you have Mayor Trevan and his family murdered for your peace of mind about keeping trained war horses?

Ben eyed the animals. The stubborn set to his jaw remained, and I knew his answer. I didn’t look to my companions. For once, I didn’t care about their opinions.

Ben had his turn leading our motley band and did a poor job. I refused to allow his pride to cause more death.

"There will be no further discussion on the matter. If you’re unhappy with the decision, that’s your problem. You don’t have to change mounts as we travel, but if your horse becomes lame or falls behind, you will be left."

Ben scowled and opened his mouth to speak.

All right, Sir Charlan dusted his hands. Let’s give these vermin a quick funeral and be gone. Our mounts can use the rest, especially the pack mule.

Ben’s face turned crimson. He glanced around for support, but Chasing Rabbit busied himself with Pip, and Foss and Gor helped Sir Charlan find tools to dig with.

One more thing. Everyone stopped and turned back to me. I steeled my nerves and faced Gilum. I don’t appreciate what happened earlier. The next time you attack me in a battle rage, I will defend myself to the fullest. I refuse to be cut down by a companion who is too weak to control himself.

I stalked away from him and began sorting through the packs and equipment. Chasing Rabbit and Gor joined me. We found food rations and camp equipment but nothing of real