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End of the Line

By Johnson, Kevin, Wade

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Book Id: WPLBN0100303647
Format Type: PDF eBook:
File Size: 0.1 MB
Reproduction Date: 6/18/2021

Title: End of the Line  
Author: Johnson, Kevin, Wade
Language: English
Subject: Fiction, Drama and Literature
Collections: Fantasy, Authors Community
Publication Date:
Publisher: Self-Published
Member Page: Kevin Johnson


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Wade Johnson, B. K. (2021). End of the Line. Retrieved from

A world where enchanters put their long-ago efforts into living creatures, not swords and such. And those creatures were mostly human beings. And the result is that there are seven magical bloodlines, seven different magical talents, where, if the breeding comes out right, a baby is born who in adolescence will show his clan's magical ability. His clan's. Because, with almost no exceptions, only the boys become blood warriors. Women can only be breeders, and, if they excel at that, leaders. The seven clans are obsessed with breeding for talent. Since blood warriors are the might of the clans, and the clans don't just compete but raid and skirmish against each other, breeding is all that anyone cares about. How many blood warriors has she given birth to? How many has he sired? Hauke shows all the signs of being a blood warrior. Unfortunately for him, none of his father's or mother's other progeny do. Which means he might be good at the warrior part, but the women who lead the clan have no reason to keep him around for the bloodline. Do they?

A young man in a world of magical talents realizes that he might have the blood warrior talent his clan breeds for, but his bloodline isn't proving to be the best for breeding more. Which means there's no reason for his clan to keep him around to "put him out to stud" later...

"You're halfway to being a remarkable warrior," said Gilbert, leaning back against one of the granite blocks while he caught his breath from another sparring session. "What do I do?" "The other half. You've got the warrior part, now you need the blood half." "I will." "I know you will. You're willing to work, work like a maniac, which is great. But there's three things about becoming the best you can with the blood talent." "Tell me." "One is to work at it. Let me give you an example—show me your talent." "Right." I put my hand against the block, composed my mind, and blinked. And was standing on the opposite side of the stone, sword arm against it. Of course now my gauntleted hand was sticking out in empty air. I turned so that hand was against the stone again—never use the sword hand except in an emergency—and blinked back. Which meant I was facing away from Gilbert, who promptly tripped me much as I had Geoffroi. I got up, and he said, "Your move was predictable." I blinked—in surprise, nothing more. "I see," I said. "I think you do. The second thing is, well, I'll show you once more. Do it again." "All right," I said, wondering what was coming. I put my hand against the stone, composed my— And he kicked me in the stomach. I went down in a lot more pain that from being tripped, although my armor meant it didn't hurt as much as it might have. I gasped for breath I couldn't get until finally the wind wasn't knocked out of me anymore. I got up, a little slower. He said, "You're too slow," and I realized he didn't mean at reaching my feet. "You need to be so practiced at your blood talent that you can run full speed at a stone wall, and the instant your palm touches, before your wrist starts to fracture, you blink to the other side." I wanted to ask if that was possible, but realized, that it had to be, if Gilbert said so, and that I'd be wise to get as close to that speed as I could if I wanted any kind of life. Long or thriving. He said, "When you're that practiced, sudden pain won't stop you. Because let's leave the stone wall idea out of it. If a sword is going into your gut, how long do you want to take to blink to the other side of whatever?" "Yeah," I said. "Lasting impressions," he said. "I used to use less vivid examples, but I had less trainees coming back from wherever they got sent." "Thank you," I said, and I meant it. "Third thing," he said. "Go," I said, bracing myself and ready for anything, but looking relaxed—that much I'd already learned to do. He grinned. "Well done. I know you're on guard, but it doesn't show. Anyway, the third thing is this: Practice alone. Unseen. With no one around." He closed his mouth and waited. I knew that look. I didn't say "Why?" or "If you say so." I worked it out for myself. Becoming the greatest warrior in the clan, or as close as I could get, could only benefit me in longevity. I'd be kept home to make more blood warriors, maybe made one of the champions or instructors. But in the process of getting there, clan leaders and senior blood warriors would get a very good idea of how good I was at that point, before I'd made it. And the better I showed myself to me, the more likely they'd be to include me on something dangerous. Since my line wasn't working out. So I'd better make myself better than they realized, so I wouldn't get thrown away. Because I'd looked around some on the quiet, and had learned that too many warriors we sent out didn't come back.

Table of Contents
Map Citadel Locations Citadel Levels Cast of Characters Chapter One: Growing Down Chapter Two: Blood Half Chapter Three: Games Chapter Four: Piracy Chapter Five: Home Chapter Six: Fair Dealing Chapter Seven: In Tact Chapter Eight: Home Again Chapter Nine: Sailing Chapter Ten: Fly Chapter Eleven: Down Chapter Twelve: Love Afterword About the Author


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