So, by now I've been teasing all of you with this book for a while. I thought you might like a small sneak peak to wet your taste buds.
So, without further ado . . .
HE
NEVER SHOULD have
let the beasts get this far down the mountain.
Branches cracked. Brush rustled. One by one, the wolf-like
maviel squeezed through the dense oaks, their backs scraping tree limbs eight
feet off the ground. One of these days Zade wouldn’t be able to hold them back.
What would happen to the villagers then?
He gripped the leather-bound hilt of his blade, his gaze
darting between each pair of glowing red eyes piercing through the night as the
maviel surrounded him.
Five. Six. Seven.
Only seven? His breath hitched, every muscle tightening.
When the maviel took wolf form, they normally traveled in packs of ten. Where
were the others?
He stretched out his senses, searching for
their life signatures in the surrounding trees. A faint signature shifted
behind him.
Zade jumped for the branches ten feet above
him. Claws bit into his calf and raked along his leg, stinging as the maviel
yanked him down. The creature’s breath lifted the hair on the back of his neck.
As he spun to face the beast, the leather binding of his knife dug into his
palm.
Snap!
Teeth closed next to his ear. His blade sliced
through the wolf’s throat as easily as cloth. Hot blood sprayed over his hands,
the sharp metallic tang mixing with pine and earth. He landed on one foot, not
trusting his injured leg. The creature crumpled at his feet.
Stupid. I
never should have let them get behind me.
He shoved the blade into its sheath and scooped
a half dozen shuriken from the pouch strapped to his waist, ignoring the ache
spreading through his leg. He balanced the sharp, star-shaped blades between
his fingers as shadows took form beneath the branches. Red eyes shone like
specks of hate through the darkness.
Seven enormous wolves crouched, hackles raised
and teeth bared.
Zade’s grip on his weapons tightened.
Hindquarters bunched and the wolves sprang,
little more than blurs of motion.
Shuriken flew from Zade’s fingers and embedded
deep in the wolves’ chests with a thud. Three crashed to the ground, spraying
dirt into the air. The others skidded to a halt and regrouped only feet away.
The thick, heavy air constricted around him.
Zade reached into his satchel for more weapons, every muscle tensed. Now that
their numbers were depleted, would they dare continue the attack?
One wolf gave a low, guttural snarl and fled.
The others thundered after it, cracking and swaying branches as they
disappeared among the oaks.
The soft murmur of crickets resumed their
chorus, cutting through the tension like a knife. Zade’s clenched fist loosened
around his last remaining shuriken, and he pulled his hand from his satchel as
the creatures’ howls moved ever farther away. Pain lanced through his calf as
he limped forward. His breath hitched.
Don’t
look. Weapons first, then safety.
He bent over a dead wolf. Moonlight glistened
off the bloody shuriken as Zade pulled it from the still-warm body, coarse
hairs brushing his skin. He wiped the weapon against his rough woven pants,
leaving a crimson streak along his thigh.
Liquid trickled down his flesh, tickling his
ankle, but he couldn’t check. Not yet.
He stretched out his mind, searching the area
for any more maviel. Four of the wolf-like creatures stalked through the forest
nearly a mile away, their flight halted. The missing two joined them at the
ridge.
Zade straightened, slid the shuriken into the
bag at his waist, and checked for bandages. Hard metal weapons, a round wooden
flute, and his last small loaf of bread . . .
A groan escaped. He forgot to replace his
bandages before rushing from the house to stop the maviel.
He removed his dagger and sheared off a strip
of cloth from the bottom of his shirt. The black fabric stuck to his leg as he
wrapped it around the wound, covering the worst of the damage. He limped up the
mountain, focusing on the bough of an evergreen, the sharp incline of rock,
stars peeking through the leaves of an oak—anything to keep his mind off the
wound.
Blood seeped through the makeshift bandage and
slid down the back of his heel. Each step along the worn pathway announced his
injuries to the maviel. If they were smart, they’d press their advantage. Race
back down the mountain and tear him apart before he had the chance to escape.
His leg buckled. The world twisted, a blur of
dark green and shadows swirling around him. He grabbed a branch and hopped on
one leg until the pain eased. Breathe.
Home isn’t far now.
He placed his weight on his injured leg and
straightened to his full height. A short climb through the trees and he’d be at
the top. Just a few more agonizing steps and he could get his bandages. Maybe
the maviel would even decide they’d had enough for a few days. He hobbled
toward the rocky cliff and climbed onto the lowest branches of an oak.
The roar of a waterfall echoed through the
trees and ricocheted off the rocks. Branches shivered beneath his feet as he
leapt between them. Leaves grazed the exposed gashes on his leg, bringing tears
to Zade’s eyes. He slowed, careful to avoid the devil-speared foliage as the
muscles in his leg screamed in protest.
The edge of the cliff—safety—stared at him from
ten feet away. Just one little jump and they wouldn’t dare come after
him—unless they’d figured out he was alone.
No. He couldn’t think like that. He’d just have
to trust that they still feared this place, still thought there were more
Amodinajai to protect the valley than just him.
He blew out a breath, bracing himself as he
eyed the gap to the edge of the cliff and the clearing beyond. One little jump
with his leg half-shredded. He could do this.
He inhaled, coiled, and launched across the
gap. Rocks ground into the bottom of his feet. A sharp stab shot up his leg.
Biting back a scream of pain, he threw out his arms and held up his injured
leg. The burn through his calf slowly faded. He breathed, focusing on the
mountain clearing he called home as he willed the pain to dull.
A stream meandered around the outer perimeter
of the clearing and fell from the edge of the cliff. Mist rose from the
waterfall, thinning out along the stones and over the ground like a thick white
blanket, giving an ethereal quality to the area. Once the sun rose, the mist
would burn off, but for now there was something about this place, something
that seemed like . . . home.
Faint memories surfaced—a woman with lavender
hair smiling at him as she hummed some tune, a baby crawling around, purple
fuzz on his head. He shook it off. No memories tonight—especially ones that
weren’t even his. He couldn’t afford any more problems, and losing control of
his other side was definitely a problem. At least when he was in the clearing,
it was easier to control himself. Perhaps that was why the Amodinajai chose
this spot as their home—that and the stone outcropping which gave a view of the
entire valley.
He hobbled toward the hollowed out boulder he
used as a shelter. Tight muscles along his neck eased as he pushed open a rough
wooden door fixed in the stone.
Threadbare blankets spread over top of a fleece
mattress squished against the wall. A line of shelves filled with half-empty
boxes woven from reeds stood across from it, only two feet of space between
them. He yanked a box from the end. Two rolls of tan cloth rolled along the
bottom. He sighed and pulled them out, fingering the threadbare fabric and
frayed edges. These weren’t going to last much longer.
His lips tightened, knuckles white.
Hopefully this year’s tribute would be more
than a few worn blankets and poisoned food.
He shoved the box back on the shelf. Moonlight
spilled through the open doorway. Sinking to the edge of the bed, he pulled off
the drenched strip of cloth he’d used as a bandage. Dirt clung to his flesh,
filling the gouges in his skin. As if getting wounded weren’t bad enough. He
should have paid more attention, remembered to keep his focus on the beasts
closest to him. But the last few days they’d changed tactics, hounding him to
exhaustion as they tried to get past him and down to the village. He dropped
his pants, and fabric peeled away from his flesh. A cry of pain lodged in the
back of his throat. He peered at the gashes, blood staining the skin around
them.
This wasn’t so bad. He’d been through worse.
He grabbed a worn set of doeskin pants—his last
pair—and limped out the door.
The stream wound around the clearing like a
snake. Life pulsed through the forest. Rabbits huddled in their burrows, and
birds lay in their nests, hiding from the dark creatures that roamed the night.
Hiding from him. Everything within miles remained safely holed away—except the
maviel prowling the upper regions of the forest.
This battle couldn’t continue forever. One of these days
some tactic they tried would succeed, and he’d end up as dead as the rest of
the Amodinajai. He’d been injured more times than he could remember. What would
happen if he just . . . stopped fighting?
It’s not as if the
villagers would miss me. At least, not until the maviel were on their
doorsteps.
He sought out the cluster of log houses in the
valley below, nothing more than shadows in the darkness, a few glimmering
lights peeking out like beacons. Seven hundred people counted on him to protect
them. Seven hundred people who didn’t even acknowledge his existence. Seven
hundred people he could never risk meeting.
But it would be so nice to just be able to talk
to . . . someone. Anyone.
He scowled. What was wrong with him tonight? He wasn’t
usually this sentimental.
He dropped down next to the stream. Icy water stung his
flesh as he slid his leg into the stream’s cold clutch. Blood and dirt swirled
away, joining the cascade that spilled over the edge of the cliff to the valley
below. Four furrows ran down his calf, the flesh pulling apart as if the
muscles were trying to escape. He lifted his half-numb leg out, picked thick
moss off the rocks, and pressed it to the ragged flesh. At the very least it
would stop the bleeding and dull the pain. Hopefully, it would heal quickly. He
couldn’t afford to hobble around the mountain with an injury like this. There
was too much to do—too many creatures to keep at bay. It would be nice to have
some real medicine, something to stitch it up with, but that was a distant
memory from a time before the villagers tried to kill off the “demon in the
woods.” He snorted. They didn’t even know what a demon was.
A new energy flickered at the edges of his senses. Zade
stiffened and focused.
Four humans made their way through the forest up the
mountainside. His gaze darted to the edge of the clearing, sensing out the
maviel. Too close. Of all times . . .
Zade bound his leg tightly and yanked his pants on,
ignoring the pain. He strapped his satchel around his waist, ran to the cliff,
and catapulted off the side. Rough bark scraped his feet as he landed, toes
digging into the branch. Pain rippled through his calf. This night was going to
be torture, but he wouldn’t let them die. He couldn’t. He leapt to the next
bough. Wind whistled through his hair and chilled his flesh.
The maviel drew closer, racing for the easy feast climbing
toward them. He had to get there first.
Branches whipped past, leaves tearing away as
if they’d been caught in a whirlwind. He landed in a tree above the first two
humans of the group and twisted toward the maviel, shuriken in hand. Each
breath rushed out, harsh in the darkness. The maviel slowed, sensing Zade as
easily as he did them. They halted just out of sight.
A girl stopped below him, auburn hair tied in a
braid down her back. “Did you hear that?”
A soft breeze whispered through the leaves and
brushed along the boy’s short hair, nearly white in the moonlight. Head
swiveling back and forth, he clutched a knife like a life-line. “It’s just the
wind.”
“This is stupid. We shouldn’t be here, Ehlrin.”
She had that right.
The boy glared at her. “I’m not going back.”
Stubborn idiot.
The two moved on. A moment later, two nearly
identical boys slunk through the shadows beneath him.
The twins were back again. Zade glared at them.
This game of theirs was going to get someone killed. Maybe he should just let them protect the village and see how
long they lasted against those
monsters.
He dropped to the ground behind the two boys.
One of them stopped. His head turned, and Zade slid around a tree, blending
with the darkness as if it were a second skin.
Green eyes brushed past his and moved on. The
boy tapped his twin on the shoulder and inched closer to him. “Maybe we should
call this off. Something’s not right.”
The other boy scowled. “And miss the chance to
see Ehlrin squirm? No way.” He continued forward, his footsteps barely stirring
the dead leaves matted on the forest floor.
Zade had to get these kids out of here before
they got killed. The twins wouldn’t frighten easily, they’d been up here too
often, but the others might. Zade crouched and picked several thumb-sized
stones from the ground. He climbed into the branches and made his way to Ehlrin
and the girl.
Hidden among the branches, Zade tossed a rock
at the side of the girl’s foot. Dirt spattered over her shoe. She spun,
pressing her back to Ehlrin’s, and clutched her knife in front of her.
Quick reflexes. Maybe she wasn’t completely
helpless.
He lobbed a pebble at a tree next to them. Thud! The oak creaked and swayed.
“You know those stories about Demons’ Point?”
Ehlrin’s voice trembled.
Good. Maybe he was starting to get the picture.
“Yes.” The girl’s voice quavered.
“I’m beginning to think they’re true.”
“Ready to go home?” A spark of hope filled her
voice.
“No.”
Her lips tightened, and she widened her stance,
flexing the fingers around her blade. “How long until dawn?”
“An hour, maybe two. It can’t be more than
another mile to Demons’ Point.” Ehlrin inched forward, his fingers curled
around his short knife. As if that would save him from the maviel. With his
strength, it probably wouldn’t even get through their fur.
Silent as death, Zade slid through the branches
above them and dropped to the ground out of sight. He didn’t have time for
this.
He reached into his pack, fingering his flute.
The fear it once created had waned among the wolves with each unanswered call.
The maviel were going to figure out eventually
that there was no one left to provide backup—no one he could call for help. He
was alone, the last defender.
He shook his head and shoved the whistle deeper
into his bag. The flute was a last resort.
He crouched and grabbed a large, old pinecone,
each woody scale the size of a thumbnail. If
a swaying tree doesn’t make them go home, maybe a fireball will. He tugged
the knife from the leather tie around his neck and cut symbols into the scales
of the pinecone.
The crunch of brush grew louder. Someone should teach these
kids not to make so much noise, but then if they were more than just beginners
they wouldn’t be up here at all.
He cut the marks into a second pinecone and checked on the
maviel. They roamed just outside of easy reach. With his leg injured, he
couldn’t hope to chase them away.
Ehlrin and the girl stepped from between two
trees.
Softer than the breeze, Zade whispered,
“Blazen.” Fire crackled to life over the wood, caressing his hands like an old
friend. With a pinecone in each palm, he rose up and threw them. A blazing ball
streaked through the air, inches in front of Ehlrin and the girl, and crashed
into a tree. Sparks showered them.
“Ah!” The girl threw up her arms and jumped back.
The second ball of fire smashed into the ground
at their feet. Flames leapt up to scorch their shoes like beasts going in for
the kill.
They bolted through the trees in opposite
directions.
Zade leaned against a trunk with a sigh. Why
did they have to run up the mountain?
The crackle of flames died out, leaving nothing
but a dark singe on the trunk. Zade stretched out his senses and found their
energy signatures once more. The twins raced after Ehlrin, leaving the girl
alone—and she was heading straight for the wolves.
The first light of predawn painted the sky in
deep grays. Another hour before the sun broke over the ridge and forced the
maviel to retreat.
He couldn’t let these people die. Not tonight.
He just had to deal with the pain until then.
Just
one more hour.
If you're interested in seeing the rest of the story, print and e-book are available at Amazon.
