Rising

by C B Samet

  Windish brought his wicked sword down at me with a hacking motion.

  All of the laws of physics I had studied dictated that the tremendous force and velocity generated from that height would split me in two. But the laws of physics did not take into account the Che stone of strength.

  Our swords connected with a deafening crack. I stood my ground, the red stone casting a crimson glow on the space between our bodies. The force from the sword clash sent my bones and teeth rattling, but I silenced my pain before my throat released a cry. I could not have this maniac thinking me weak. Nor did I dare show weakness to the crowd lest they, too, think of challenging the Champion.

  Grunting, Windish pushed down upon my small frame with all of his might as though he wanted to squash me straight into the ground like a bug. At the instant before I thought my strength would give way, I transported. The large Hunju crashed forward, and I reappeared be- hind him. Guests’ chairs were knocked askew from his impact on the ground.

  He growled in frustration and shifted the weight of his big body to stand. With a quick sweep of my sword, I sliced through the back of his leg, severing the tendon that connects the calf to the heel. He fell back down to one knee and howled in pain.

  This was my first time to use a sword upon living flesh. The sensation was something different from cutting through the black hide of the Malanook. Those creatures of evil had less substance to their composition, like dry, brittle meshwork that crackled when struck by a blade. In contrast, this creature’s flesh was dense and moist. Thick red liquid spilled from the wound and swirled on top of the blue brick.

  I appeared in front of him with my sword at his throat.

  “Do you yield?” I snarled.

  Since I was unaware of this bizarre tradition—the Avant Guard saves Queen and country so the logical thing to do is subject her to more direct assaults—I didn’t know if this was supposed to be a duel to the death. Perhaps I could be forced to fight, but I could not be forced to kill another person. Killing evil creatures and killing brethren with whom we shared space on this planet were two different forms of violence, the latter being abominable. In fact, the entire purpose of having the Malanook to fight was so that we would stopped irrationally killing each other.

  Windish wiped away drool and nodded but did not dare move with my sword at his neck.

  I looked at the crowd circled around us. Baird was focused on me with a hand on a very tense Joshua, as though that would hold him back. Jo looked fearful I might slay Windish. But the rest stared at me with respect and with reverence as did many others, including Coco de Fay, the widow Alencia and her son Vallik, and the daughters and son of Laos. My mother was rigid as though holding her breath. Then I looked at the Queen who looked down and away.

  I felt a breeze in the air shift that seemed to slow time and space. Suddenly I understood. The Champion posed a threat to the ruling power of the country. I was a victor, and as such, I had the power to seize command over the ruling authority. This was the ambition to which the Queen had referred.

  A law or tradition put in place by decree to allow the Champion to be challenged could be a safety net—a way for ruling kings and queens to regain or maintain power. They could eliminate a Champion who posed a threat. I wondered which Champion had been feared enough by the ruling powers to have such a decree enacted against him or her and if the ruling royalty had secretly put a bounty on his or her head.

  I knew my Queen, and she knew me. Despite our differences, and my belief that I had proven myself to the extent I no longer needed to subjugate myself before her, she knew I possessed no ambitions of ruling the country. So I knew she had not conscripted my attacker. I needed to emphasize to all watching and all to whom they might tell this story to later that I was both a force to be reckoned with and loyal to the Queen, even if a little rebellious (and cheeky) at times.

  I raised my blade away from Windish’s neck and pointed it toward Queen Rebekah.

  “Then go and bow before your Queen.”

  <<>>

  A Note to the Reader

  If you enjoyed this book and want to know about future releases by CB Samet you can CLICK HERE to sign up for my mailing list! I promise I won't spam you. I only send an email when I have a new book released, giveaways, or special discounts. And I'll never sell your information. You can also unsubscribe at any time.

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  Thank you for reading,

  CB Samet

  Also by CB Samet

  The Avant Champion Series

  Rising, Book 1

  Malakai, a story of Malos (prequel)

  Honor, Book 2

  Ashes, Book 3 (coming 2019)

  ACTION AND THRILLER BOOKS BY CB SAMET

  The Rider Files:

  Meridian File, Book 1

  Masters File, Book 2

  McMillan File, Book 3 (coming 2019)

  The Dr. Whyte Series:

  Black Gold

  Whyte Knight

  Gray Horizon

  Acknowledgments

  Mona Mistric, editing

  Thomas Hill, Lampass Press, content editing

  Michelle Bellinger, Mashiara Graphics, interior graphics and map

  Outskirts Press, editing and publishing

  Sample Chapter

  The Avant Champion

  ~Honor~

  Book 2

  Chapter 1

  Coco DeFay strode into my classroom in full royal armor. Her boots echoed on the tiled floor. With each step, the sheath of her sword clinked against her metal belt. The silver breast shield she wore glinted from the sunlight streaming through the classroom window. Her long blond hair was pulled back, exposing radiant bronze skin.

  The students fell quiet, like wide-eyed statues in their seats. They seemed to be holding their breath as they waited to see what would transpire from the sudden intrusion of the Queen’s guard into my classroom.

  Guards didn’t trespass on the university grounds...ever. And Coco DeFay was not making a social call.

  “Coco,” I greeted her. I believed technically she held the title Lieutenant DeFay, but she interrupted my students’ education without invitation and obviously at the behest of the Queen—who might have had the decency to fore- warn me or come herself. I felt disinclined to pay formal respects under the circumstances.

  She stopped a few feet from my table. The only sound in the room was the bubbling of my chemistry experiment. I had been demonstrating copper sulfate’s change from pale blue to white when dehydrated with heat. Blue water appeared in the glass test tube as it collected the condensing vapors.

  “Professor Cross,” she greeted me formally. Judging by her stiff posture and stoic face, I guessed her polite speech represented a demonstration of her superior maturity. As I held the title of associate professor, she elevated my status.

  We had fought side by side five years ago; she should have called me by my name, “Abbey.”

  “The Queen requests an audience.”

  Naturally. There could be no other reason for Coco’s presence.

  “My class ends in fifteen minutes.” As my chemistry demonstration overheated and disintegrated during Coco’s distraction, finishing class was pointless, but I resisted on principle. I didn’t want to let my students see me cower before the Queen’s guard nor be at Queen Rebekah’s beck and call at a moment’s notice. (On occasion I have been accused of defiance and setting a poor example.)

  Besides, the Queen wasn’t summoning Assistant Professor Cross; she summoned the Avant Champion. I still held the title of the defender of the kingdom, but my obligations had been fulfilled, or so I had hoped.

  Coco drew her sword casually and held it a few inches from my chest. She looked at me with a challenging stare. Her long, slender blade stretched in a shimmer of silver.r />
  I arched an eyebrow, annoyed by her threat. The muscles in her arm tensed as she made a motion to lunge to- ward me. I side-stepped her attack and reached into an unseen shelf in my demonstration table. I withdrew my Ballik blade and swatted aside her next blow.

  Although my role as the Avant Champion had been inactive for the last five years, two things had been made clear to me after I defeated evil. First, the Queen forewarned me she would ask “future favors” due to the nature of my gifts. Secondly, occasionally the bravest warriors from across the continents would seek a name for themselves by at- tempting to defeat the Avant Champion. Thus, I kept a sword in my lecture hall, at my university office, and at home.

  I didn’t expect such an attack from Lieutenant DeFay. She struck again, and I parried. The metallic shriek of our swords echoed in the lecture hall. The students remained in their seats, looks of amazed fascination filling their expressions.

  Well, class attendance is certain to improve after this. Coco unleashed more blows, methodical and fluid. She had substantially improved her skill since that moonlit night near the shores of Marrin Beach.

  So had I. I continued to block, waiting for her to quit the absurd swordplay. Coco had several inches of height on me, most of which resided in her long legs. This occurred to me a few seconds too late as she lashed out one of those long legs. Her heeled boot struck my left ribs, and I stumbled back a few steps as a whoosh of air escaped my lungs.

  I cleared my throat, shaking off the pain. A smirk marked the first sign of emotion Coco had showed since making her grand entrance.

  She came at me again, leading with her sword. My patience for her game evaporated like the crystallized copper sulfate beneath the burner on my table. The luxury of being a Star Traveler, with the ability to transport myself anywhere under the stars, was I could fight dirty.

  I vanished and appeared behind Coco, watching her stumble through the unrestrained momentum she had gathered. The motion probably represented the first ungraceful move she had made in her entire life. Under the circumstances, I might have gleaned some satisfaction in causing the awkward motion.

  I shifted again, this time appearing before her with my sword to her throat. My other hand latched on to her weapon-wielding wrist. She stilled, and I stood close enough to see her pupils dilate. “Class dismissed,” I growled. Cheers and applause erupted from the students. I glanced sidelong at them, but I didn’t give Coco a centimeter of space.

  A wolfish grin spread across her face. “Good, Abigail the Bold. You have kept up your training.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her.

  She looked down at the silver necklace I wore. “You didn’t use the stone?”

  “I use the Warrior Stone against real threats.”

  She chuckled and the tension in her body deflated. I took a step back from her, but remained alert to her every move. “The truth spoken harshly. You are indeed Abigail Cross.”

  My turn to smirk.

  Turning back, I noticed the audience still gawked. “Dismissed,” I reiterated.

  At last the students moved, standing and making their way down the steps and out the door. As they departed, murmurs of excitement trailed behind them.

  “All that show was to test me?” I asked, more than a little incredulous since I thought we were friends.

  She straightened her spine and stuck out her chin. “If I’m going to go on a Queen’s quest with you, I need to know you’re the warrior we all remember you to be.”

  If anything, I was more of a warrior than I had been during the battle five years ago, when I had but a few sparring practices in preparation. Now I had substantial training. I had trained with my husband for the first year after the battle against Malos. Since then I trained with a good friend and Gunthi monk, Baird Fox—a man with as many names as he had talents.

  “A quest?” I asked. “Afraid?” “No.” I scowled at her. “It sounds time-consuming, and I’m mid- quarter in classes.”

  She kept silent. “Must be important if the Queen is sending her first lieutenant,” I commented. I slipped my sword back in its hiding place in my table.

  Coco frowned. “I believe its importance is validated by her enlistment of the Avant Champion.”

  “Okay, so she needs a heavy fighter. Why?” Turning to my ruined experiment, I switched off the burner and waved at the smell of rotten eggs.

  “That is for her to divulge.” “Very well.” I sighed, loud enough to be heard at the gates of the castle.

  “The guards’ chariot awaits in front of the university.”

  I let Coco lead the way through the university halls. At the thought of being in the company of the Queen, I reflexively brushed at my maroon cotton dress to remove any dust and straightened it. I wasn’t clothed for court, but offending the elite was hardly something over which I would lose sleep.

  We walked through the long corridors, past other lecture halls, and across the campus square. Students milling about on the grass and stone tables stopped their conversation to stare at the pair of us walking.

  We reached the main university entrance, where a carriage rested. Four black horses stood at attention harnessed to the carriage. Their shoed hooves clicked against the gray cobblestone as they shifted their weight impatiently.

  Hmm … four. Two would have been sufficient for a casual stroll from Marrington Castle to Oxville University. Four horses conveyed an urgent trip. I spotted the frothing sweat beneath their girth straps, confirming my suspicions.

  What could be so urgent? Malos, prince of darkness and evil—I am not being melodramatic since he is comprised of the evil leached from mankind over a thousand years—was not scheduled to make his next debut for, at the very least, several hundred years.

  I touched the carriage and Coco and transported us all to the castle courtyard.

  I had no idea the critical mass beyond which star traveling was no longer feasible. Horses and a carriage were close to the largest I had transported. For the last five years, I had mostly transported myself to work and back home since I lived a five-days’ ride from the university. I had also taken Joshua and supplies to Misty Isle to visit my mom, her husband, and my half-brother. Oh, and I took monthly trips to Mulan to bring Andonius coconut milk. Needless to say, I wasn’t moving mountains with my ability, so I didn’t know if I could.

  I remained cognizant that I wouldn’t want whatever I transported to crush someone as we appeared. Fortunately, I could perceive a vague outline of where I traveled—like a smeared watercolor painting—enabling me to avoid transposing the matter I relocated onto the matter existing at my desired location.

  Residents, coachmen, and other carriage-bound horses startled at our sudden appearance. The driver of the carriage uttered a surprised curse and worked to steady his animals.

  Coco pretended to be unperturbed by the abrupt relocation, but I noticed a shudder as I followed her into the castle. I might have warned her of the discombobulating effects of first time travel, but my annoyance seemed to have displaced my manners.

  Coco escorted me deep within the castle walls. “How does it work? The Traveler’s Star?”

  I glanced up at her. “I envision where I want to go and the star takes me. I can only go where I have been before, where I can see, or if I’m transporting someone with me, where they have been and envision us going.”

  “And you can take people and objects?” “Yes.” “Only with skin contact?” I considered her question. “No.” I thought how to explain the proximity of objects. “For example, if I’m astride my horse while wearing pants, I can still transport myself and my horse. Or, during the carriage transport just now, I had the option to take the carriage—which I touched—or the carriage connected by inanimate harnesses to the horses and then also the horses. Dense matter connected to other dense matter. When I activate the star, I can sense the different boundaries of objects and sort of cast a net around them.”

  She nodded pensively. “What if someone touches you as you are
transporting? Are they sucked into travel with you?” “I honestly don’t know. It hasn’t happened.” We walked on, the sound of her boots snapping on the stone floor. “And no time passes when you travel?”

  “Perhaps a second or two. I don’t stop time or have any control over time. I can only control destination and select the objects to ac- company me.”

  “And this is made possible by a blue tattoo?” I shrugged. “If you have questions about the magic behind the marker, you’ll have to ask the Blue Gypsies.”

  I rubbed briefly at the blue tattoo on my palm, which allowed me to transport. It had been given to me at Winter Festival many years ago, and I only learned of its power five years ago when I met someone else with the star, Baird Fox.

  Last year, the blue fortune-teller who had given me the star camped at Meredith’s Winter Festival, where I celebrated the season with my husband and in-laws. I had eagerly approached his blue tent and waited in line for an audience with him. In his azure room, I noticed the same blue tablecloth and sparkling curtains. He wore the same blue attire and blue eye shadow. Unlike the last time I had visited him, I was no longer a university student, and I wasn’t drunk on moon juice. “Abigail Cross,” he said, again knowing my name although I had never given it to him.

  I gave a polite bow. “What may I call you?” “I am Blue.” I chuckled. “Naturally.” “You wish your fortune?” I had a dozen questions, none of which included my future. “I never had the chance to thank you for the gift of the star.” I held up my palm briefly.

  He narrowed his eyes at the blue tattoo. “Was it a gift or a curse?” I considered carefully. Such power had put me in some precarious situations but ultimately enabled me to defeat an evil force much more skilled and powerful than I. In addition, I had saved my life and my husband’s life by transporting to healing springs.