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Ebulon, the last human city, is under attack by the largest confederation of orcs ever assembled. Against this monstrous force, there's little hope of surviving -- save that their King has a most unique ability. Knowing that his brave troops cannot protect his city on their own, he calls for aid across all worlds, desperately hoping that his pleas for help don’t fall on deaf ears.
Answering the call, heroes from other worlds rally to offer their aid. But even with their help, victory is far from assured as the drums of war haunt the air. The battle is about to begin.
15 authors bring characters from their collective works together in this epic crossover anthology, creating incredible stories of heroism, selflessness and bravery.
Brand-new story for Disciple
The saints did not ignore a plea for help, despite that Wodenberg faces its own invasion soon enough. Saint Qadeem sent Kate to serve Ebulon as a healer... and more.
Continuity: this story happens between the end of Disciple, Part II and the beginning of Part III. It's not part of Disciple's storyline, but it doesn't clash with anything either.
Sample from "Entry Point" by L. Blankenship:
The portal of woven kir let me pass, tearing like cobwebs across my arm held before my face. Fresh snow on paving stones crunched under my boot. And the moment my ears reached this new world, this place that had begged for help, the crashing and shouting of battle filled them.
I stood in a small square, at the foot of a snow-covered statue of a knight on a rearing horse, within sight of city walls and a barred gate. The battlements stood above the timber-and-shingle houses, full of men fighting and surging back and forth.
A shadow fell across me; I turned and saw a riveted brigantine over a mail shirt. Shoulders wrapped in bear fur. Above that, a scowling, scarred man in a battered helmet.
“Who else comes?” he demanded, glaring at the green cloud of kir I’d stepped through. It faded now, shedding tiny stars. “Who else! King Yadi begged for aid and you —” The knight gestured at me, half shrugging. “Who are you?”
I gripped the strap of my medicine bag, across my chest, in both hands. That steadied me. “I’m Kate Bockmann.” I straightened as much as I could, but I still didn’t reach his shoulder; he was a huge man. “Saint Qadeem heard your call for help and sent me.”
A second knight, striding across the square from a formation of some hundred, looked puzzled by me, but not so angry. “Vess, what do we have?”
“We have a girl,” Vess answered, stepping aside and presenting me with a sweep of his arm. “Fifty thousand orcs at the gate and they send us a fucking handmaid."