Warrior Forged

By Morgan Quinn

A reluctant hero, a psychotic demon, and the city that lies between them.

Rhychard Bartlett only had one thing on his mind that night—to propose to his girlfriend, Renny Saunders. However, a scream that freezes the blood in his veins changes the course of his life forever.

For the past two years, Rhychard lived his life day-to-day, happy with his business My Moving Truck and I, avoiding his mother’s constant demands for help, and spending his nights with Renny. However, when he rushes into an alley because of a scream, he comes across a dying elf who thrusts a sword into his hands and tells him to wait for another. The only question on Rhychard’s mind at the time was: when did elves become real?

Now that he possess the Guardian Sword, Soulbreaker, Rhychard must learn to protect his city from the Unseelie while keeping Renny in the dark about his new role as Warrior of the Fae. But then Vargas, the demon set on destroying Harbor City, doesn’t want Renny to stay in the dark when he can use her to destroy Rhychard.

With Renny threatening to break up with him and a city that needs saving, Rhychard must choose: Turn his back on the Seelie and his city, or sacrifice the love of his life for the world around him.

Warrior Forged is an action-packed urban fantasy full of elves, faeries, and sword buckling action in today’s society. Grab your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandy Shores Publishing
• Release date: Oct 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215157688

Book preview

Chapter One

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Don’t kill her. It’s not worth it. Just count to ten. Rhychard Bartlett closed his eyes and did just that for what had to have been the hundredth time that morning, his mother’s shrill voice still ringing in his ears. Off to the side, he could hear his younger sister, Daisy, snickering at his predicament, which only caused him to count all over again. For the moment, he envied his younger brother Karl his prison sentence. At least the youngest of the Bartlett siblings escaped their mother’s domineering nature for a while.

I don’t see why you can’t do both, Catherine Bartlett said in a huff as she slammed some poor carnations down on her worktable. I just need you to pick up an order of ferns, and I need them here before I open the store. It’s not even a big load. Surely, that can’t take too long, can it? Maybe you can do it before you move that lawyer’s office.

He shook his head. As much as I’d like to help, I can’t. The job starts before your supplier opens, and it’s guaranteed to be an all-day job, so it won’t be like I can sneak away. I won’t even be taking a lunch break. I’m sorry. Have Daisy rent a truck and pick up your flowers. You just said it was a small load.

I need your sister here to help me run the shop.

Rhychard glanced over at his mother, his brows furrowed. "But you just said you needed them here before the store opens. So what exactly will she be helping you with?"

His mother sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. She’ll be helping me get orders ready. Look, it’s not like I ask you for much, Rhychard. I don’t see why you can’t do this one little thing for me.

Rhychard shook his head. There was always one little thing she wanted him to do for her. It was never-ending. And she did ask for much. It was like he was her employee, only he never got paid. I know you don’t, Mom, but that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t do it. I’m sorry, but I already have a job lined up, like I said. It actually pays, too. I have to be there before your supplier even opens. If I get done early, I’ll let you know, but I wouldn’t wait to hear from me because there’s no guarantee I’ll make it.

His mother kept complaining, but Rhychard stopped responding. Instead, he finished unloading his delivery truck of the favor she had already guilted him into doing for her and then escaped as quickly as he could. Of course, that didn’t stop Daisy from relishing in his misery. For a thirty-year-old, she could sure act like an elementary school kid at times.

He rolled his eyes at his sister, mouthing the words, You’ll get yours, to which she simply shrugged, still smirking, as she walked back into the front of the florist shop.

His mother had owned Blooming Petals Florist for the past sixteen years, and for the last decade had called him to help her pick up her flowers from her wholesalers. Daisy had worked in the florist since she graduated high school twelve years ago, choosing to follow in her mother’s footsteps and skip the whole college route. Rhychard had at least tried his hand at college, getting his Associate in Arts Degree before calling it quits. Not that he wanted to start a moving company when he decided college life wasn’t for him, but more like it fell in his lap. He had a small pickup back then, and people would call him, asking for his help to move things like couches, dressers, help moving into new houses or businesses. They offered to pay him, most of the time, with him telling them it wasn’t necessary. And then he realized it was the perfect way to make a living. He could work when he wanted, be his own boss, and only do the jobs he truly wanted to do. It was perfect for him at the time, and he ran with it. Eventually, he had enough jobs to afford a bigger truck and My Hand Truck & I was born. Of course, his mother thought it meant she never needed to pay to have her flowers picked up again, and she was the one calling his phone the most. At times, it made him rethink his business decision. And his heritage. Surely, he was adopted.

Before he left, he kissed his mother on the cheek and promised to check in with her tomorrow if there was time. He already knew there wouldn’t be, but the promise helped him escape without listening to another round of her whining. He’d leave that for his sister to endure. She deserved it, after all.

As he pulled out of the back parking lot, he blew out a breath of frustration, hoping he sent the negative energy out with it. It was always the same with his mother. She always expected her children to leap into the air whenever she demanded something, and it always needed done first thing in the morning before the sun was even up. And it was always as a favor. Worse than working early in the morning for free, he dreaded working for family. They not only expected you to work for free, but they expected you to be happy about it. Rhychard’s wallet was far from happy. Some people refused to own a truck for just that reason. Once the news was out you owned one, every family member and freeloading friend you had asked you to help them move something. It was the same with his business, My Hand Truck & I. The part some of his friends—and his mother—didn’t comprehend was that it was his business, his livelihood, and not a charity.

Pulling out into traffic, he turned left and headed for the west side of town. If he judged his time right, he would get to Renny’s showing before she left. He needed to make sure their plans for tomorrow night were still in place. He had been planning it for months, and he refused to allow anything to interfere with what he had set in place. For two years he had looked forward to this moment in his life, knowing the first time he went out with Renny that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

Casting a quick glance at his watch, he noticed the time. 12:45. She told him she would be there until 1:30, which left him enough time to grab her favorite drink from the chain coffee shop nearby and meet her at her showing before she locked the place up.

When he pulled into the place, the drive-thru line was longer than lunchtime at McDonald’s, so he rushed inside for his drinks, instead of waiting and wasting the gas. Of course, that almost proved just as bad as the drive-thru. The tables were full of students and businessmen, all on their laptops and practically ignoring the others around them. In the corner sat a quartet of ladies fresh from the yoga studio with foo-foo drinks in front of them, which they practically ignored while gossiping about how some hunky man in a sports car dropped off their instructor five minutes late for class. How they could even hear each other, he had no clue, as the noise level in the place was like someone turned on six radios full blast, all set to different stations. The cacophony was almost so bad that he wished he had remained in his truck, after all. He hated crowds.

Please. How hard can it be? You make orders like this all the time, right? I mean, it’s your sole job. To make these over-priced, fancy concoctions.

Rhychard turned and stared at a stocky man with short dark hair, reprimanding the young clerk behind the counter. The kid being scolded just stood there with his mouth slightly ajar, staring at the irate customer. They were more than likely used to it, but still, that didn’t make it right. After all, it was just a drink. They could remake it. Entitled people were so easily pissed off.

The kid handed the man a different drink. This one is actually yours, sir, he said, still staring at the man’s face with bewilderment. That drink belonged to someone else.

The man looked at the drink in his hand and then at the one the kid slid in front of him. Oh, well then, I guess that explains it. He set the drink in his hand on the counter and picked up the other one with a shrug and—did he just hop?

When he turned around, Rhychard saw why the kid behind the counter stared at the cranky customer. The man had dark red eyes that appeared like they belonged to a cat more than a man with the way they were shaped.

Rhychard felt his brows rise as he turned and followed the man out of the shop with his gaze. People did the weirdest shit to themselves these days.

Red Eyes sipped his drink with almost a schoolgirl-like giddiness as he walked away from the entrance. The whole thing seemed bizarre.

Can I help you?

Rhychard stared at the man for a moment longer as Red Eyes turned toward the street and simply walked away. He doesn’t have a car? Who walks in this heat?

Sir? Did you wish to place an order?

Rhychard shook his head as he turned back toward the counter. Sorry. I just… He turned and glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the man step on the sidewalk and head toward the main road. Turning back to the man behind the counter, he asked, Did he have red eyes?

The young clerk nodded slowly. Yeah. Wild, right?

Rhychard glanced back out the window, but the man was gone. Yeah. It was, um, different for sure.

What can I get for you today?

Rhychard shook his head as he turned back to the young man at the counter and placed his order. People are definitely strange these days.

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SQUATTING, THE ELF STARED down into the lifeless eyes of the teenager. The body sprawled on the side of the riverbank, one hand dangling in the water. He chanced a quick glance at the sword at his waist, but the telltale blue glow which would warn him of one of the Unseelie nearby was absent, allowing him time to examine the body before the human authorities discovered it. A bluish glint colored the boy’s lips, which told Jamairlo everything he needed to know about what killed the kid. Vargas’s drugs had claimed another life. This made the third body in a week. What does he hope to accomplish?

:You know what he hopes to achieve,: Meelim told him, using his mindspeech, the communication of the coshey.

Jamairlo turned and stared at the wolf-like faerie hound, sweeping his gaze over Meelim’s shiny, shimmering coat of fur as it flickered among the shrubs. It always impressed him that even given the faerie hounds size of a black bear, that he could hide among the humans, his magic blending him into his surroundings, even while moving like a lion and possessing the appearance of a giant wolf. He could climb a tree like a mountain cat, his magic allowing him to blend in with the surrounding foliage, which kept him safe from prying eyes when necessary. All Jamairlo could do was look like a human.

:The body only proves he has not reached his goal. His drug is still in the experimental phase.:

Jamairlo squatted down next to the body, closing the kid’s eyes, eyes that held the pain of a human who experienced a faerie hallucinogen. He should know humans cannot consume a faerie herb and survive. All he’s doing is killing these people.

A jingle of bells sounded just a second before the slight faerie form of Tryna appeared floating in the air above him, her long, blond hair draped over her tiny shoulders.

Tucking a strand of his golden hair behind his pointy ear, the elf turned his gaze up at the small faerie, her body the size of a human three-year-old, which the elf knew could shrink to a mere few inches if she chose. He opened his mouth to say something to the faerie, but just before he did, something hit him in the side, almost toppling him over. Something else flew by his head, barely touching his forehead in its passing.

Glancing down, he saw a tiny dragon clutching at his side, its dark violet scales shining in the afternoon sun. He chuckled as he wrapped an arm around the small creature and turned his gaze up at another dragon perched in a small bush off to the side, its dark blue scales barely standing out among the leaves and branches. Both creatures were the size of a giant hawk, which helped them appear as any other bird outside of their colorful scales. It at least allowed for them to remain concealed, mostly.

He glanced over at the blue dragon. Friki, you need to stop chasing Frayziq. You two are going to get yourselves discovered. Don’t make us send you back to the Land Under.

Friki squawked as he turned around on the branch where he perched, putting his back to Jamairlo as he laid his head down on his front talons.

Jamairlo shook his head as he stroked the purple dragon’s neck. They were full grown, but still acted like toddlers compared to their larger cousins. Sooner or later, someone would see them for what they were and then they would be in trouble with the Warrior Masters. He dropped his gaze down at Frayziq, who simply glared at his brother. And you stop instigating him. Don’t think we don’t know what’s truly happening here.

The dragon looked abashed as he tucked his head under the elf’s arm, tucking his wings tight against his sides.

Meelim lifted his head, bouncing his gaze between the two dragons. :They say they are sorry.: He settled his massive head back on his front paws. :Apparently, Frayziq found some eggs and refused to share.:

Jamairlo shook his head once more before he glanced back up at Tryna, putting the small dragons out of his mind for now. Vargas is still trying to twist the faerie herbs into something he can give to humans. Our guess is he wants to use it to subjugate them to his control. He shook his head as he pointed to the corpse. Obviously, he hasn’t gotten it right yet.

:He is, however, getting closer,: Meelim said. :As is the police detective. I noticed gargoyles hovering near the police station. Mark Rochester is closing in on Vargas’s human counterpart.:

I have noticed an increase in dark elves in the area as well. Tryna sighed as her body bobbed up and down slightly in the air. Which means Vargas sees the man as a threat and will attempt to eliminate him. We will need help if we are to protect him. I’ll reach out to Kendalais and ask the Warrior Masters to send others.

:Have we not already asked for their assistance?: Meelim moved over to the tree where Friki perched and pushed the branch.

The dragon turned, unfolded his wings, and hopped onto Meelim’s back.

We have, Tryna said with a slight nod. But it doesn’t hurt to ask again. She dropped her gaze to the dead body on the river’s edge. I think current circumstances might make them see the greater need here.

:The Warrior Masters see only what they wish to see. Something brews there. I simply do not know what it is.: The coshey turned and lumbered off, his body shimmering with the foliage he passed making him practically invisible. :We should find another place to talk. I hear the sirens of the humans heading this way.:

Jamairlo glanced up the bank, straining his elven hearing. Soon, he also heard the police sirens. Agreed, he said with a curt nod as he pushed himself to a standing position. I will reach out to the detective and see what progress he has made. That might give us a better idea as to the timeline of when we would need the Warrior Masters’ aid. He had taken the guise of a reporter digging for information and befriended a Mark Rochester, who felt the public needed to know the danger the new drug hitting the street posed. The officer had no problem sharing information as long as Jamairlo kept his name out of it, which worked for Jamairlo.

Be careful, Tryna warned. Dark elves and gargoyles are not to be trifled with. The Unseelie will not hesitate to put an end to you if they think you’re a threat to their goals. Until we get help, we need to move with extreme caution. She then popped out, the jingle of bells singing across the water.

Jamairlo slipped his glamour back into place, appearing human to all who looked his way as he moved to follow Meelim. Frayziq hopped into the air, flapping through the sky until he landed on Meelim’s back beside Friki. The elf merely shook his head, a soft smile crossing his face. The five of them against the demon and his minions. He wished he liked their chances, but he didn’t. Even with the Guardian Sword, Soulbreaker, strapped to his waist, he doubted he could eliminate a horde of dark elves and gargoyles by himself. If the Warrior Masters failed to come through, he had no idea what he and his small group would do. Vargas wanted Mark Rochester dead, replaced with someone who the demon could manipulate. They had to keep that from happening at all costs. Jamairlo only hoped the cost wasn’t their lives.

Chapter Two

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Renny tucked her blond hair behind her ear as she slid her feet underneath her rear onto the couch. She held the latest Nora Roberts’ book in one hand and a glass of merlot in the other while soft jazz drifted throughout her townhome. It was her favorite way to end a day.

Rhychard finished pouring himself another whiskey before joining her, his own book in his hand. It was the same book he had been reading for the past two years, but Renny had never asked him about it. He never got further than the first chapter before something snatched his attention away from the book, and then he’d forget what he read and have to start over. All right, so he was never a reader, but he could fake it for Renny’s sake.

However, instead of opening it when he sat down beside her, he set the glass and the book on the end table beside him and reached for her legs, stretching them out across his lap, and massaged her feet.

She allowed her head to fall back as she closed her eyes, moaning at the touch. I’ll give you ten years to stop.

He chuckled as he glanced over at her. I kind of think my hand will give out way before then, but good to know you’re enjoying my efforts.

She lifted her head, opening her eyes as she smirked over at him. Your efforts, huh? And just what are you hoping to accomplish with this display of unselfish devotion?

He shrugged, playing it off. Who knows? I’m just storing it in the bank for the future.

Like you did when you brought me my coffee at my showing today? And you think that’s allowed, do you?

He rubbed her foot harder, eliciting a small moan as she allowed her head to fall back again. I think all I have to do is remind you of my foot-rubbing skills and you’ll be putty in my hands.

She sighed. You’re probably right.

He released her foot and reached for his book and whiskey, but she jerked her head back up and glared at him. What are you doing? I didn’t say you could stop.

He chuckled as he leaned back in his seat and continued to massage her feet. Bossy, bossy.

And that’s why you love me. She winked at him as she lifted her wineglass to her lips.

He shook his head. Oh, there are so many reasons why I love you. Now, how was the rest of your day?

They spent the next several minutes going over each others’ day, and Rhychard managed to extricate his hands from her feet long enough to enjoy his whiskey. She had several showings at her open house, met some interesting people, and drank way too much coffee. He chuckled as he listened to her recite her day and then caught how quickly she skipped over her father calling her to ask where she was on Sunday.

Rhychard decided not to call her out on it, knowing her father nagging her about being in church every week was mainly his way to fuss at her about him. They didn’t particularly care about the way Rhychard lived his life, seeing it as a man with little ambition who merely enjoyed drinking and smoking those nasty cigars. Her father’s words, not his. They also weren’t too happy when they surprised her one morning, wanting to take her out for breakfast, and saw him standing in her kitchen making scrambled eggs, wearing nothing but a robe. Her robe, as a matter of fact. From then on out, he was the devil trying to cart their precious daughter to hell on his Suzuki.

You ready for your big job tomorrow? Renny tucked her feet back under her rear as she shifted slightly in her seat, repositioning herself to face him better.

He nodded, grabbing his book and dropping it in his lap. I’m picking Trace up early, and it’ll probably take all day. But I’m still looking forward to our dinner tomorrow night. He turned, facing her as he hitched a leg up on the couch. I have this nice little restaurant picked out beachside. Dim lights. Soft music. Italian delights. I hear this place has the best tiramisù in the county.

Oh, really? You do know how I love a good tiramisù.

That I do. He reached out and rubbed her knee.

He settled back, picking his book up once more and then setting it down in his lap as he reached for his whiskey.

Are you all right?

He glanced up at her, feeling his brows pinch. Yeah. Why?

She cocked her head to the side. Because you seem awfully fidgety tonight. Something going on?

He squirmed a little, doing his best not to appear like he was lying. Just me sitting here, nothing to hide. Just thinking through this job tomorrow. That’s all.

You sure? She narrowed her eyes at him, cocking a brow. I can usually tell when something’s bothering you.

Positive. Really. You know how Trace is. You’re the one who keeps questioning why I keep using him.

She scoffed. And yet, you ignore me all the time and keep him on. So… Why worry now?

Just because I feel sorry for him and keep giving him breaks, doesn’t mean I don’t worry about him being up to each task. Remember, this guy only sits around his mother’s garage, playing video games, and he’s thirty-two.

She giggled, nodding. It’s like he never grew up and left high school.

He shrugged. He’s cheap labor, which is why I keep using him. No need to actually hire someone. Rhychard smiled, hoping that would be the end of her questioning. The truth was, he had been thinking about the real reason for their dinner tomorrow night, and it involved a small blue velvet box sitting on top of his dresser back at his condo. And he couldn’t wait to give it to her, taking their two-year relationship to the next level.

As he lifted his glass to his lips to take a drink, sirens broke into the night. Normally, he would have shrugged them off, but he could see the lights bouncing off the surrounding buildings, and they weren’t disappearing down the street. I wonder what that’s all about. He slid off the couch, moving across the floor to the bay window that overlooked Addison Avenue.

Renny was right behind him. What’s happening?

He peered out the window, his glass in his hand as he looked down at the scene. There were several squad cars, lights spinning, and a firetruck pulled up from the east. Looks like there’s a body down there.

I don’t see a fire, though, so why the firetruck? She stepped up beside him, her arms over her chest, while she still held onto her wineglass.

Maybe it has something to do with that body on the ground. He shrugged.

Something off to the side caught his eye, but when he glanced that way, all he saw were dark shapes zipping through the night. He felt his brows furrow as he followed them around the building. What the hell was that? They were shaped like birds, but he had never seen birds that huge before.

He stared at the shadows for a couple of more seconds before Renny grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the couch. Come on. There’s enough drama in my book. I don’t need to know what’s happening out there.

He allowed her to drag him away from the window, but he still looked over his shoulder as if he could still see what happened in the street below, picturing those shadows flying across the sky. They were too big to be birds, so what were they? This is usually a quiet area. Weird.

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JAMAIRLO GRIPPED SOULBREAKER AS he peered around the corner of the brick building. Glancing up at the rooftops, he spotted the gargoyles perched on the edges, staring down at the street, barely noticeable in the darkness of the night. That meant Vargas was nearby. From everything he had discovered from Mark Rochester, the demon intended on meeting someone tonight about his drugs, even though the detective was unaware of Vargas’s true nature. The detective had stumbled upon the time of the meeting and intended to be there to arrest whoever appeared at the storefront.

Ducking back behind the wall, Jamairlo glanced at the violet dragon on his shoulder. All right, Frayziq. Stick to the shadows and out of sight, but see if you can spot Vargas or any of the other Unseelie in the area.

The tiny dragon screeched, glancing up at the rooftops.

Jamairlo sighed as he reached out and stroked the long neck of the small creature. Besides the gargoyles.

Frayziq screeched once more and then launched itself into the air, its talons digging into the thick leather Jamairlo wore on his shoulders. Friki remained perched on Meelim’s back, his wings folded in against his sides as he