Avenger of Legends - Preview

Prologue

The sun kissed the horizon, its dying rays casting the desolate wasteland of the Deadlands in a purple-red hue. The King’s road – a wide stone road elevated a good twenty feet from the desert-like terrain by huge wooden pillars – extended off into the distance as far as the eye could see, illuminated at regular intervals by flickering torches on either side. A lone carriage traveled south on this road, making its way toward the clear-cut terrain of what had once been called the Fringe, over a mile away. The clop, clop of its horse’s hooves was the only sound, echoing through the Deadlands. For as its name indicated, nothing lived there. It was a no-man’s zone, miles of nothing separating the Kingdom of Tykus from the rest of the world.

Taylor stared out of the window of the carriage, gazing at the empty terrain. The same wasteland he’d woken up to nearly a week ago after passing through the Gate, that strange black portal that his wife had been sucked into eight years ago…and that his son Hunter had gone through over a month ago, after learning the truth about his mother’s disappearance. Taylor had fully expected to die after he’d been sucked into that horrible blackness…and at the time, death would’ve been a kindness. For with his wife and son gone, he’d had nothing left but himself.

And his self was someone he couldn’t live with. Not after everything he’d done.

Taylor found his gaze drawn not to the Deadlands, but to the steadily darkening sky. At first he hadn’t believed that he’d arrived on another planet, but now he couldn’t deny it. For as the sun’s light died away, it revealed the undeniable truth. Three crescent moons glowed silver high above the horizon, proof of the alien nature of this world. He stared at those moons, feeling a chill run through him.

This is real, he thought. This is happening.

Soon, this carriage would bring him to a land far from the Kingdom of Tykus…to his son Hunter.

Taylor squirmed in his seat, glancing at the man sitting to his right. It was one of Tykus’s soldiers, a man called Lucius. Wearing brown leather armor, with a sheathed sword resting across his lap, he was an intimidating presence. There was a thick wooden partition between them, with a window that looked to be made of transparent crystal rather than plain glass. A consequence of a strange superstition these people had. For the people of Tykus believed that Taylor’s mere presence would infect them somehow, and most of the people he’d met – besides Alasar – had treated him as if he were a leper.

It could be true, of course. He was from another world, and people in Tykus had clearly dealt with his kind before. Someone might have crossed over carrying particularly nasty infections, and wiped out a good portion of Tykus’s population in the past.

They had every right to be paranoid, Taylor supposed.

The Deadlands used to be dangerous, according to the customs agent Taylor had talked to back in Tykus, a man named Ekrin. Apparently there’d been monsters or something that’d prowled the Deadlands, attacking the kingdom’s carriages. But they’d come to a truce recently, so Taylor hadn’t required the customary large force of soldiers to accompany him out of the kingdom. Still, they’d sent him with Lucius just in case.

Lucius ignored Taylor, and Taylor sighed, gazing out of his window again. He felt a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach, one he’d felt ever since he’d started the carriage ride. He should be exhilarated, he knew. He was going to be reunited with his son, after all…a son who he’d feared had died going through the Gate. They would be together again.

But they’d parted on…well, not the best of terms.

He grit his teeth, remembering the last time he’d seen Hunter. Hunter had gotten into a fight at school, knocking out some bully. He’d been suspended, and they’d argued. Taylor had gotten drunk as usual, and Hunter had discovered Neesha’s phone…and the truth. That his mother hadn’t died falling down a cave shaft, but that she’d passed into a strange wall of utter blackness, never to return.

And that Taylor had abandoned her, staying to raise Hunter instead.

I wish you hadn’t, Hunter had told him. You could’ve been a hero. But now you’re just a lousy drunk.

Taylor took a deep breath in, remembering how he’d flown into a rage, chucking a glass at Hunter’s head…and missing by mere inches. If Hunter hadn’t dodged out of the way in time, he might’ve killed his own son.

You’re right, he’d told Hunter. I should’ve left you behind.

It was the last thing he’d told his son.

He lowered his gaze, feeling an all-too-familiar shame. A soul-crushing guilt. He had the sudden urge for a drink…for a way to escape the pain. He clenched his hands into fists, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

Not again, he told himself. Never again.

Not only had he lied to his son about his mother for years, but he’d also forced Hunter to take care of his drunk ass every night. Because of him, Hunter had had to grow up far too fast, and the boy had become angry and bitter because of it. Untrusting, with psychic walls that refused to let anyone in.

And it was all Taylor’s fault.

In the weeks since he’d stopped drinking – ever since Hunter had vanished – Taylor had been forced to stop escaping from his failures. He’d had to confront them head-on, and take stock of exactly what he’d done.

It’d been the second-hardest thing he’d ever done in his life.

He shifted his weight in his seat, trying to force himself away from this particular line of thought. Instead, he thought of last week or so here. After appearing in the Deadlands, a soldier called Alasar had taken him to a huge, walled-off kingdom, where Taylor had been processed by Ekrin. He’d discovered that Hunter was here, not only alive, but apparently nothing short of a hero. It was hard to believe all the stories he’d heard about Hunter…or the fact that, for every day that passed on Earth, six passed here.

She came here, he told himself.

His wife Neesha had come to this land, of course. And by his calculation, that meant that nearly fifty years had passed since she’d appeared here. No one in Tykus could – or would – tell him what’d happened to her. But even if she were still alive, she’d be an elderly woman now.

He took a deep breath in, letting it out. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window.

I’m sorry baby, he thought. I should’ve come sooner.

It was a silly fantasy, of course. He’d had no way of knowing that the Gate had been a portal into another world. And he could never have left Hunter to go through…or have brought Hunter through with him, and risked killing them both.

Still, the thought of what could have been…his family reunited again, even if it was in this strange world…was heartbreaking.

He sighed, opening his eyes and staring off into the distance. He spotted something there, breaking up the seeming endless expanse of desert. A walled-off encampment, lit by countless torches.

“Military base,” Lucius informed him, the man’s voice muffled by the partition. The Deadlands used to be dangerous, according to Ekrin. Apparently there’d been monsters or something that’d prowled the Deadlands, attacking the kingdom’s carriages. But they’d come to a truce recently, so Taylor hadn’t required the customary large force of soldiers to accompany him out of the kingdom. Still, they’d sent him with Lucius just in case.

“Huh,” Taylor mumbled.

“Used to need it for the Ironclad,” Lucius told him. “It was destroyed by the Svartálfar during the Great War.”

Taylor didn’t reply, still not quite understanding what that meant. Apparently there’d been a massive war a few months ago, between the kingdom of Tykus and some…beasts or monsters or something. What he’d been told didn’t make a whole lot of sense, really. In fact, very little of what he’d learned about Tykus – and the rest of this world – made any sense. From what he could tell, the people here were extremely superstitious, believing all sorts of nonsense.

It was like he’d been dropped into the High Medieval Period of ancient Europe, between 1000 and 1300 A.D. While it wasn’t his particular specialty, as an archaeologist he’d read up a bit on the subject in grad school. But unlike medieval Europe, these people didn’t worship God. Instead, they seemed to worship Tykus, the man who’d founded their kingdom.

“Coming up on the Fringe soon,” Lucius notified. “Used to be a big forest, but King Tykus had it clear-cut after Zagamar’s army corrupted it.”

Taylor spotted a sudden transition from desert-like terrain to a vast expanse of sparse grassland dotted with small shrubs. The King’s Road cut right through this land, the torches on either side of the road barely illuminating the ground twenty feet below. Glancing at Lucius, he noted that the man seemed uneasy, shifting his weight in his seat.

“This is where the Svartálfar battled the Ironclad,” Lucius said, pointing out of Taylor’s window. Taylor looked, but didn’t see much of anything in the darkness. “We burned ‘em, but they made it to the wall. Used a giant serpent to scale the wall too. We were nearly overrun.”

“Huh,” Taylor replied noncommittally.

“Lucky for us, your son took down Zagamar,” Lucius continued. “Saved the whole kingdom. And the Kingdom of the Deep came to help clear out the rest of the tainted savages.”

Taylor nodded politely, not sure how much of the man’s tale to believe. Lucius fell silent as the carriage continued into the Fringe, leaving the Deadlands behind. Taylor gazed out of his window, his eyelids drifting closed. It was late, after all. And he hadn’t been sleeping well ever since he’d arrived in Tykus. Partially because of his excitement at learning that his son was still alive…but mostly because he was terrified at the thought of reuniting with Hunter.

The urge to run away from this particular problem – like he’d been doing for the last eight years – was powerful. As was the urge to start drinking again. But he couldn’t do that anymore. He wouldn’t do that anymore.

He was done running.

It was a perfect place to start over, this new world. To build a life that he could be proud of. And if that life included Hunter, then that was good enough for Taylor.

Lulled by the darkness of the night and the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the King’s Road, it wasn’t long before Taylor felt himself drifting off to sleep. He surrendered to its numb embrace, and was soon lost in his dreams.

* * *

Taylor woke to a piercing scream.

His eyes snapped open, his heart leaping into his throat. The horse pulling the carriage had stopped, and was rearing up on its hind legs. It shrieked again, the sound echoing through the night.

“What the…” Taylor blurted out.

The driver swore, yanking back on the reigns, but the horse landed, then kicked back with its hind legs, clipping the front of the carriage. It thrashed its head wildly, and it was then that Taylor realized there was an arrow sticking out of the side of its neck.

Then there was a thump, and the driver grunted, then fell out of his driver’s seat, landing on the King’s Road.

“Shit,” Lucius swore, shoving his side-door open. He put a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Get down, now!” he ordered…

…just as an arrow shot through the windshield of the carriage, embedding itself into his temple.

Lucius’s head snapped to the side, bouncing off the seat-back, and he tumbled out of the carriage and onto the road, his arms and legs seizing rhythmically.

Taylor stared at the man through the window in the partition, hardly believing that what he was seeing could be real.

The horse reared up again, its awful shriek piercing the night air. Foam dribbled from its mouth as it thrashed its head from side-to-side, its eyes wide with terror.

Then something big swooped through the air over the bridge, slamming into the side of the horse and knocking it onto its side on the King’s Road. The carriage lurched leftward, throwing Taylor into the partition to his right. He braced himself, then spotted what had hit the horse.

A bird. A huge black bird, bigger than the horse. Bigger than the carriage.

The monstrous thing tore into the horse with sharp talons, ripping the horse’s intestines from its belly. The horse’s screams echoed through the forest, making Taylor’s hackles rise.

A moment later, the huge bird leapt off the horse’s carcass, flying off over the treetops and disappearing from sight.

Taylor stared at the dead horse, then at Lucius’s open door. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat dripping into his eyes. He wiped them with the back of his sleeve…then saw a second huge bird flying thirty feet above the King’s Road, barely visible in the light of the torches below it. Its wingspan had to be over sixty feet long, far larger than any bird he’d ever heard of. But this bird had someone riding atop it, on a black saddle. A man wearing plate-mail armor polished to a mirror-shine, and carrying a bow of the purest white.

The bird landed fifty feet away, and its rider dismounted, striding toward the carriage. The man put the bow on his back, striding toward Taylor…while unsheathing a thin, bone-white blade from the scabbard at his hip. It seemed to glow in the moonlight, cutting through the darkness…even as the man strode toward him, only forty feet away now.

Thirty.

Taylor froze, watching as the man drew closer, that mirrored armor reflecting the moons and the stars. Taylor’s eyes locked on the man’s deadly white blade…and the sight of it made something inside of Taylor snap. A primal instinct moved him, compelling him to flee.

He shoved his door open, jumping out of the carriage and making a run for it.

A huge shadow flew overhead from behind, the wind of its passage shoving Taylor forward, and nearly making him lose his balance. It was, to his horror, the bird the man had ridden. It landed on the King’s Road ahead, turning around to face him and spreading its wings wide. Its wingspan was so massive that it was many times wider than the road itself…and blocked Taylor’s way completely.

Taylor swore, skidding to a stop, then turning around.

The bird’s rider was striding toward him, only forty feet away. Closing the distance between them almost casually. Taking his time.

“What do you want?” Taylor yelled. He held his arms out to the sides. “I’m unarmed. I don’t have any money!”

The man said nothing, continuing to stride toward him.

“What do you want with me?” Taylor pressed. “Don’t kill me!”

And then he heard a thump behind him, and whirled around just in time to see the massive bird standing before him. It leapt upward, reaching out for him with its talons and wrapping them around his upper arms.

Taylor screamed as his feet pulled away from the King’s Road, the bird’s powerful wings flying him high into the night sky…and into the unknown.

Chapter 1

Hunter squatted at the edge of a cliff, peering down at the forest some twenty meters below. It was nearly pitch-black out, the stars and moons illuminating the wilderness in the faintest of pale silver light. It was a kind of darkness he’d never witnessed back on Earth, where the sky was constantly underlit by artificial lights. Millions of stars greeted him in a spectacular display, the galaxy visible to the naked eye. He felt a burst of excitement, knowing that, very soon, this quiet moment would pass…and the fireworks would begin.

A westerly wind buffeted his body, and he pulled his wings in tight against his back. The last thing he wanted was to be blown off the damn cliff. Vi’s eyes were on him, he knew…and she’d never let him live it down.

Hunter peered down into the forest below and ahead, spotting a shadowy, cat-like figure moving stealthily from tree to tree far above the forest floor. He felt a familiar anxiety twist his guts.

Come on Sukri, he encouraged silently. You can do this!

It was their fourth major mission since the fall of Zagamar, and since Sukri had joined with Hunter and Vi to train with them. While Hunter had learned how to fight and hunt quickly under Vi’s expert tutelage, Sukri had not taken to it as quickly as he had. The fact that Hunter was the one teaching her might have had something to do with it, for Vi refused to train Sukri, making Hunter do it instead. Sukri’s last mission had been a bit of a disaster, and Hunter had spent the last month training extensively with her to ensure that this one went more smoothly.

He watched as she made her way slowly toward a large building a hundred meters ahead. A mansion amongst the trees, in the middle of nowhere. Six stories tall, and made of dark, beautiful wood and curved roofs, it had a wraparound balcony on each floor. The building was far different than the architecture he’d become accustomed to in Tykus. But Tykus, of course, was far away…over two hundred kilometers northwest of here. Or about a hundred and twenty miles, give or take. After about a year on Varta, Hunter had gotten used to thinking in the metric system.

Soon he couldn’t spot Sukri anymore, the night seeming to swallow her whole. He felt another twinge of anxiety for her, and forced himself to ignore it.

Should’ve gotten those damn eagle eyes, he grumbled to himself. When he’d gotten his wings from the Kingdom of the Deep, he’d been offered to have eyedrops filled with the essence of a near-legendary eagle put in his eyes, to give him the extraordinary sight of an eagle. At the time, getting wings had been quite enough. But now, he planned on taking the next break Vi gave them to go back to the Kingdom of the Deep to get his eyes done.

Hunter focused, knowing that he had a job to do. According to Vi, this mansion was one of many owned by Octavius Quinn, a powerful Ossae and artifact dealer. Octavius had a reputation for being extraordinarily dangerous. But he was also possessed of a particular artifact that Vi really wanted.

She’d apparently had felt that this little mission would be the perfect test of his abilities…and of his proficiency as Sukri’s teacher.

Hunter lifted a spyglass to his eye, focusing it on the mansion. There were no torches lit, either outside or inside the property. Which made it difficult to track the positions of the army of guards that had to be patrolling the property.

Should’ve gotten those damn eagle eyes.

At least Sukri would be able to see in the dark. She’d absorbed the traits of a cat while in the Kingdom of the Deep, and while she was still mostly human-sized and shaped, she was covered with gray fur, and had cat-ears and a tail. With her feline eyes, she had phenomenal night vision. And her sense of smell and hearing were downright scary. With the black chainmail armor the Ironclad had made for her – and her vicious retractable claws – she was deadly indeed. Or at least she could be, if she didn’t get in her own way. For her problem was most often not a lack of skill, but of confidence.

He waited, knowing that she would reach the mansion soon. And that when she did, she’d give him the signal. To his relief, he didn’t have to wait long.

There was a flash of silver light just to the left of the mansion; moonlight reflected off a small mirror.

Hunter grabbed his bow from his back, then dove off the edge of the cliff, spreading his wings. They caught the wind instantly, filling them up with a sensation of intense pressure. He kicked his legs back, flying forward and downward, picking up speed. Leveling off just above the treetops, he glided to the right of the mansion, opposite where Sukri was. Grabbing an arrow from his custom quiver, he drew closer to the building, spotting another flash of light from Sukri’s mirror. He spotted her crouching on the second floor balcony, next to the body of one of the guards.

A second guard stood on the balcony, his back to her. Completely oblivious to the literal cat-burglar only a few meters away.

Hunter nocked his arrow, gliding toward them while pulling back on his bowstring. On a whim, he decided to hold his bow horizontally, using the trick Vi had taught him to curve his arrows. He let the arrow fly, watching as the arrow sailed far to the right of the guard, then curved to the left in mid-flight…striking the guard right between the eyes.

Bullseye, he thought triumphantly. The guard’s head snapped back, and Sukri rushed up behind the man, lowering him to the floor gently. Hunter sailed past, catching Sukri flipping him off as he flapped his wings, gaining altitude. He smirked, knowing she’d wanted to take the guy out herself.

He scanned the six floors of the mansion as he flew in a wide circle around it, each with balconies upon which several guards patrolled. None of them had noticed him or Sukri.

Yet.

Sukri took out one more guard on the second floor, then crouched down, leaping upward a full twelve feet to grab the railing of the third floor balcony. She vaulted over it easily, landing silently on the balcony. As he circled, he spotted two guards coming around the corner toward her…even as she slinked stealthily toward them. He drew another arrow, firing it, and then drew a second, firing again.

Both guards were struck in the heart, just in time for Sukri to turn the corner and ease them to the floor. Barely.

Good kitty, he thought, smirking again. He was testing her, of course…and she had to know it. Which meant that he definitely wasn’t getting laid tonight.

Nothing new there, he thought.

Sukri’s iridescent eyes flashed in the triple-moonlight as she took out a third guard on the third floor, then leapt up to the fourth floor. They repeated the process, until she’d made it all the way to the top floor, leaving a trail of dead guards in her wake.

Only then did Hunter turn in mid-flight, diving toward the sixth story balcony after her. He swung his feet down as he approached, leaning back and spreading his wings wide. They caught the air like a parachute, and his descent slowed. He landed gently on the balcony next to Sukri, folding his wings on his back, having made hardly a sound.

“Boom,” he mouthed wordlessly, winking at her. She rolled her eyes. He grinned, switching to sign language. “You lead,” he signed. His brother Xerxes had taught him the sign language the Ironclad used, and Hunter had taught Sukri. Partially as a way to communicate silently in times like this, but also because in teaching it, he’d been forced to get better at it himself. Much like how teaching Sukri to be a Seeker had made him an even better one.

She nodded, then strode toward a door ahead, one leading from the balcony into the building. There were no windows, a fact that provided plenty of privacy for Octavius Quinn, but also for Hunter and Sukri. For there was no way for the guards inside to know what had just occurred.

Yet.

Sukri put her ear to the door, listening for a bit, then glanced at Hunter.

“I hear four guards on this floor,” she signed. “Metal clinking with each step. Probably armed with swords.”

Hunter nodded. Likely shortswords; swinging a two-handed weapon like a longsword in close-quarters was impractical. Which was why he’d armed himself with a shortsword. Not his preferred weapon, but Vi had been having him practice with it. Sukri had her metallic bo staff, but she hardly needed it. Her razor-sharp claws were deadly enough on their own.

“I’ll take them out,” Sukri signed. “You’re too loud.”

He gave her a very specific sign, one that was universally known…and guaranteed he wouldn’t get laid tonight. Sukri smirked, then opened the door, slipping through stealthily. She closed the door behind her silently, leaving Hunter alone on the balcony. He waited, feeling more than a little uneasy. After all, if she got into trouble, he wouldn’t know it staying out here.

Trust her, he told himself.

Still, the gnawing, uneasy feeling didn’t subside. Which made it clear that he did not.

Minutes passed, and Hunter found himself getting more and more uneasy. He imagined her tied up, captured by Octavius’s guards. Or worse, lying dead on the floor.

Come on…

Another minute, and no Sukri. Then he heard muted shouting from inside, followed by a series of thumps. Then a scream.

A woman’s scream.

“Fuck,” he swore, yanking the door open.

* * *

Sukri closed the door to the balcony behind her, leaving Hunter behind.

She crouched in the darkness of the room she’d entered. It was three by four meters, with thin white paper walls and a wooden ceiling over three meters up. Similar to the interior of the Guild of Seekers. The paper walls, being made of wood products, absorbed barely any traits, and having the ceiling so high above her head made it unlikely that traits she radiated would even reach it.

Thin walls meant she could hear everything…and the footsteps of the four guards patrolling beyond this room rang out loudly to her feline ears. It was clear there was a hallway beyond the door at the other end of the room, for she could see the shadowy silhouette of one of the guards strolling behind the paper wall.

She slinked up to the door, waiting for the guard to pass it, then eased it open.

The hinges creaked.

Shit.

Sukri closed the door, then stepped so she was against the wall by its hinges. Footsteps approached, and the doorknob turned.

Idiot, she cursed herself.

The door opened and a man stepped through. She held her breath, flattening herself against the wall right by the door. She could feel his suspicion, along with a flash of irritation. As an Empath, it was as if his feelings were her own.

The suspicion faded, and the man exited the room, closing the door behind him. He waited a moment, then continued his patrol.

Sukri breathed again.

Shoulda taken him out then and there, she scolded herself. She’d frozen, so afraid of being caught that she hadn’t acted. He’d been out of the hallway, where others wouldn’t have seen him being taken down. Idiot, she cursed herself. You have to do better!

Sukri forced herself to focus, counting the footsteps of the guards in the hallway beyond. Another guard came near, far closer than the others. She hesitated, then tapped on the door. The footsteps stopped, and soon the knob turned, the door opening. A guard stepped into the room, weak light from the hallway beyond providing minimal illumination for the guard…but plenty for Sukri. Her cat-eyes gave her marvelous night vision.

The guard looked around, peering into the darkness…and Sukri leapt at him from behind, extending her long, vicious claws and slashing his throat from behind.

He cried to cry out, but Sukri covered his mouth with her other hand, bringing him silently to the floor. She got on top of him, holding him to the floor and waiting for him to bleed out. He lost consciousness far before then, and she got up, grimacing at the blood staining her armor…and fur. Then she realized the door was still open, and cursed silently. She made the decision to bolt out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. The hallway was long and dimly lit by lanterns hanging from the ceiling, paper walls on either side. There were doors on either side at regular intervals. And ahead, a guard was walking away from her, reaching the end of the hallway and turning left.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Okay, she thought. That worked. Maybe I can do this.

Sukri slinked forward on all fours down the hallway, reaching the end quickly…and silently. Turning the corner, she spotted the guard walking down another long hallway, his back to her. She stalked him, closing the distance quickly, then pounced.

Just as a door opened behind her, a second guard stepping through.

“Hey!” the guard shouted.

The first guard whirled around just as Sukri slammed into him. He fell onto his back with a thump, and Sukri retracted her claws, slashing at his neck. He managed to block the attack, and kicked her in the belly, sending her stumbling backward.

Right into the guard behind her.

“Intruder!” the first guard shouted.

The guard behind Sukri stumbled backward, and she whirled around, slashing at his face with her claws, tearing through his flesh and rupturing his right eyeball. He screamed, falling to the floor, and Sukri cursed, leaping atop him and grabbing his windpipe. She dug her fingers around it, then extended her claws again. They pierced his flesh…

…and then the other guard scrambled to his feet, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. He lifted her up into the air, twisting around and throwing her through the paper wall to her left. She landed on her side on the floor beyond, air blasting from her lungs.

The shing of a sword being pulled from its scabbard rang out in the air, and Sukri rolled onto her back, gasping for air. The guard who’d thrown her leapt through the hole in the wall, lifting his sword above his head…and chopping down at her face.

Sukri didn’t even have time to scream.

She brought her left arm up to block, and the guard’s sword struck her metallic forearm bracer with a loud clang…and a crack as her forearm bones snapped.

Sukri bit back a scream.

The blade ricocheted off, but made Sukri backfist her own nose. Pain shot through her nose and forearm, stars exploding in her vision. She kicked out blindly with her feet, extending her hind claws. They struck something, and she raked her feet wildly, hearing a shrill scream as she did so.

Then she rolled onto her belly, pushing herself up on her hands and knees. Or at least she tried to; pain shot up her left forearm, and she cried out, falling onto her chest on the floor.

Fuck!

Sukri got up, holding her injured forearm to her chest. The guard who’d attacked her was lying on the floor, half in the room and half in the hallway. His belly and groin were a mess of blood and torn flesh, his eyes wide and his face pale. He stared down at his ruined body in disbelief.

Sukri walked up to him, stepping on his neck with one foot, then slashing it with her claws. Stepping over him, she went back into the hallway, seeing the other guard on his hands and knees a few meters away, clutching at his bleeding throat. Awful gurgling sounds came from it.

She strode toward him grimly…and then stopped when two more guards rounded the corner, spotting her.

For the love of…!

Sukri skid to a stop, turning around and bolting down the hallway in the opposite direction. But one of the doors ahead of her burst open, more guards spilling into the hallway. She stopped, lunging at the leftmost wall and bursting through the paper. Or at least, that’s what should have happened; there was a bookshelf resting against it on the other side, and she slammed into the back of it, ricocheting off and falling through the paper wall behind her. She tripped, falling onto her back on the floor in the room beyond.

And the guards rushed after her, swords drawn.

“Hunter!” she screamed, clutching her broken forearm to her chest. The guards surrounded her, and one raised his sword over his head. But another guard stopped him.

“No,” he ordered. “Quinn will want to question her. Everyone grab a limb. Watch out for those claws.”

They did so, and Sukri kicked at them, forcing them backward. Then one of them stomped on her right forearm with a loud crack.

She howled.

They grabbed her legs, pulling them taught, and then her arms, forcing her right arm outward to the side. The pain was unimaginable, so awful that it took her breath away. A wave of nausea came over her, bile welling up in the back of her throat.

“Hunter!” she screamed.

Then one of the guards knelt down and punched her in the face, and the world went black.

Avenger of Legends will be available November 2020. To check out the other books in the series, click here!