by Sarah Noffke
The Uncooperative Warrior
Unstoppable Liv Beaufont™ Book 2
Sarah Noffke
Michael Anderle
The Uncooperative Warrior (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2019 NM Sarah Noffke & Michael Anderle
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
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Las Vegas, NV 89109
February 2019
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Sarah’s Author Notes
Michael’s Author Notes
Acknowledgments
Books By Sarah Noffke
YA Dystopian Fantasy
Books By Michael Anderle
Connect with The Authors
The Uncooperative Warrior Team
Thanks to the JIT Readers
Jeff Eaton
Crystal Wren
Daniel Weigert
Angel LaVey
Misty Roa
Keith Verret
John Ashmore
Micky Cocker
Larry Omans
Kelly O’Donnell
If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
The Skyhunter Editing Team
For Kathy.
Thank you for giving me my first fantasy book.
Since then, the world has been a better place.
Chapter One
The sound of monks chanting in the distance reminded Adler where he was. It shouldn’t have been hard to remember, given the stone walls and ever-present musty smell in the hall, but he still felt disoriented each time he visited this location. Those were the wards, he reminded himself. The protections that had been placed on the monastery centuries before to guard that which it held.
Beside him the old monk hurried, the keys in his fingers clattering as he staggered forward, a lantern in his other hand. In the distance, a dripping sound made a pleasant drumming that accompanied the chanting.
“I don’t remember the last time I saw you,” the monk named Niall said, squinting into the dark.
“You wouldn’t,” Adler replied, careful to keep the bundle under his robes safe and unseen. The old monk’s memory had been wiped so many times that he was close to dementia. Still, in the recesses of the old man’s mind, he remembered Adler well enough to let him into the monastery each time. Niall alone knew the path they took through the catacombs under the ancient monastery. When he was close to passing, his knowledge would be passed onto another monk, as it had for centuries.
Adler had never liked entrusting something so important to a mortal, yet that was the safest way. The information wasn’t even safe in his mind, he believed. Some things were so important that the measures it took to protect them were worth these risks. He rested his hand on the canister under his robe. Stored magic was one of those things. In the wrong hands, it could be earth-shattering. What Adler feared most was that the magic he held now would open doors that had been shut long ago. It was better for everyone this way.
Bats dove from the arched ceiling as the two men strode through the next tunnel. A larger dark form streaked after the bats, startling Niall.
“What was that?” he asked, halting and holding up the lantern.
Adler urged him forward. “It was nothing. Only a shadow.”
The old monk didn’t look convinced as he inched forward, having to nearly be pushed to continue.
“I’m not sure what it is you do down here,” Niall stated. “There’s nothing here but endless hallways and entrances to the great spire.”
“It is none of your concern.” Adler grew restless with worry the longer they stayed down there. The monastery was protected from portal magic, which meant he was trapped if something happened. Not being able to use magic here was part of the protections, although the irony wasn’t lost on the old magician.
Niall halted abruptly, a shiver running over his ancient form. He pointed with the lantern. “The location you seek is just ahead.”
Alder nodded, striding past the slight man.
“S-s-sir,” Niall stuttered, his jaw suddenly chattering as if the chill in the air had frozen him to the core.
Adler spun around, impatience on his face. “Yes?”
“What is it that you keep down there?” The monk scratched his head, thinking hard. “For the life of me, I can’t seem to remember, although I know the way. Why is that?”
Adler let out a long breath. He should dismiss the old monk; there wasn’t time for chatter. However, Adler knew how the spell worked. It was sealed by the words he’d speak next. “You are the guide, and only to lead one of the Seven to this spot. It protects that which is most sacred, and it cannot be found by anyone but you.”
Niall’s eyes glazed over for a moment as if he’d suddenly fallen into a trance. Then he shook his head. “Yes, I remember now.” He waved his hand, the long, rusty keys clattering with the movement. “Please take your time. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
Adler spun around, not entirely sure where he was going. The hallway split up ahead. He halted at the intersection, where a round blue and green stone on the floor caught his attention. Turning back to where the monk stood, Adler squinted into the dark. Due to the lantern light, he could tell that Niall was resting against a nearby wall with his eyes closed.
Turning his attention back to the stone, Adler read the language that few knew that was inscribed under his feet. The words rolled off his tongue like the rush of water over rocks, soft and melodic.
Look toward the heavens. Climb high to reach the treasure.
Adler brought his gaze up, realizing at once that the great spire soared overhead, creating an abyss of black. On the walls closest to him, he spied small indentations on the stones—the path one would take if they dared climb to the top. Round and round, all the way to the locked vault at the highest peak of the monastery.
How many times had Adler looked up at this spire, feeling as though he was seeing it for the first time? He didn’t know. The wards of protection prevented him from rem
embering, and yet he knew what was held in the vault, even if he could never remember how to get there.
He withdrew the canister from inside his robe, the light blue substance inside glowing faintly in the mostly dark corridor. Magic never faded, but when not used, it did dull a bit—just like people and creatures.
For Adler, that didn’t explain why Olivia Beaufont’s magic was so strong after being unlocked. There was much about the girl that perplexed him. He still believed that she was the right choice for Warrior, although he hadn’t foreseen her nearly ruining everything. Instead of taking out the Zonks, she’d intervened, botching a plan that had been in the works for a long time.
Adler regarded the canister in his hands with great appreciation and sighed. He tried to remember that things had worked out for the best. If not for Olivia’s actions, Valentino’s double-crossing might not have been exposed until it was too late. Entrusting a rebellious magician to such a mission had been foolish. It was just that there were so few Adler could trust with such a task. Most would ask questions. Most wouldn’t understand. They might think that Adler was collecting and storing the magic for himself. They wouldn’t understand that he was cleaning up lost bits of magic. Keeping it safe. Going forward, he’d have to be more careful who he trusted for such things. He might just need to do it himself.
Alder raised his hand, and a small dragon the size of a falcon flew down from the shadows to perch on his glove.
Adler regarded Indikos with affection, catching the spark in his green eyes. He pulled a length of thin rope from his pocket and used it to tie the canister of magic to the dragon’s back. He realized at once that he must have done this many times since the act came so naturally, like riding a bike or playing the piano.
Indikos stayed still as the canister was tied into place. After Adler ensured it was tight enough, he lifted his arm into the air and the dragon soared upward, flapping his orange wings until he was swallowed by the darkness. When he returned, the canister of magic would be gone, kept out of the hands of those who must never hold it ever again.
Chapter Two
Liv Beaufont crossed her arms over her chest, looking down at the chaos below her. On the jungle floor, a dozen or more goblins fought over piles of jewelry, electronics, clothes, handbags and other things they’d stolen from the tourists in Bali, Indonesia.
Tracking the little monsters hadn’t been hard since they had yelped and snorted as they’d scurried through the jungle. Liv slapped her arm as a mosquito landed, about to bite her.
The damn bugs had been the problem, she thought bitterly. Oh, and the monkeys who kept following her, making it harder for her to stay unseen.
The goblins weren’t paying attention to her now, too busy biting and kicking and thrashing each other to get the best prizes.
Liv slid the hood onto her head, keeping her eyes low. She could have stopped the thieves a time or two as she watched them steal and disappear through different resorts.
However, these two-foot-tall green creatures weren’t the ones she needed to stop. It was their master who was the problem.
From the largest hut in the camp, a goblin, bigger and uglier than the rest, exited. Trock wore entirely too few clothes and would have benefited from a large mask to cover his pock-marked face. From his long ears, rows of silver rings hung, and on his back was a short sword, its tip still covered in fresh blood. As he progressed closer to the mayhem, the other goblins began to shout more wildly.
Looking down at the feline who stood next to her, Liv pursed her lips. “This would be a perfect chance to throw some fireballs.”
“Next time you’ll have to have the gnomes teach you how to create them,” Plato said, sitting casually on the thatched roof they occupied and looking down at the goblins. “It is gnome magic, after all.”
Liv agreed with a nod. “Yes, that would have been good to know before I pissed off a slew of them and sullied my name with the lot of them. Now they won’t give me a minute to apologize.”
Plato lifted his pink nose in the air. “You don’t need the gnomes.”
“Well, I’d like to know how to make fireballs, so I think I do,” Liv stated. “And we all need each other. We are supposed to be sharing this planet.”
Plato’s green eyes swiveled to the goblin fights. A larger goblin had pulled a stolen laptop away from a smaller one and bonked him on the head with it. The assault cracked the machine, making the first goblin shriek with frustration. “I think the creatures below need a refresher course on how sharing works.”
Liv sighed heavily. “Yes, and also to be taught that stealing is wrong.” She lifted both her hands and the trees began to rustle like a great storm was about to rip through the island. Dirt and leaves flew up from the ground, covering many of the thrashing creatures. Palm trees bent almost double, looking dangerously close to toppling.
Liv might not have the ability to create fire, but she could harness elements that already existed—in this case, wind. When the camp below was in complete chaos, goblins diving and covering their misshapen faces to escape the debris and others holding onto large plants to anchor themselves to the ground, Liv sprang off the roof of the hut.
She landed in the middle of the clearing, her head down and one hand barely grazing the ground.
The wind stopped at once.
The whimpering of the goblins faded as they realized the wind that had been trying to pull them from the ground was gone. It was replaced by silence as they turned to find the Warrior rising to a standing position in the middle of the open area.
“Magician! How dare you enter our camp?” the chief goblin yelled, charging toward Liv, his head nearly even with her waist. Despite his stature, his jagged teeth and stocky build meant he was a force to be reckoned with. That was why Liv raised her hand at once. A set of ropes on the ground by a nearby tree rose and flew through the air, wrapping around the goblin and tying him into a neat little bundle. He fell over on his side, looking like a candy bar with his head poking out of one end of the wrapper and his gnarly feet out the other.
“I agree,” Liv began, turning in a circle as the other goblins unsheathed their weapons and bared their yellow teeth at her. “The agreement with the House of Seven states that magicians aren’t to enter your territory without your permission. But it also says that you aren’t to pillage from mortals, does it not?”
The chief had rolled over so that half his mouth was in the dirt. He started making garbled, unintelligible noises.
Liv rolled her eyes, keeping her awareness on the other goblins that were inching closer. She flicked her wrist and the closest one went flying, knocking into a tree trunk. It slid down to the ground with a loud squeak. “Oops. Sorry. Meant to throw you in the pond over there,” she said, indicating a disgusting pit of swamp water—a breeding ground for mosquitoes.
A goblin at Liv’s back raced toward her and she spun around and held out her hand, lifting the goblin into the air. When he was hovering at her eye level, she clicked her tongue. “Now, I’d rethink this whole attacking idea because I’m still working on this aiming thing. It’s going to take some practice.”
The goblin kicked his feet angrily, holding a giant fork over his head and calling her names, or at least that was what it sounded like.
She shrugged and sent him toward the pond, but he landed next to a neighboring tree. “See, I told you. I was never good at sports. I throw like an elf.” Liv laughed at her own joke. “Get it? Because they are so lanky and all. Their arms get tangled up if they try to pitch a ball.”
She continued to laugh. The goblins regarded her with contempt.
“Okay, fine,” Liv said, her laughter fading. “You are a tough crowd.”
Turning around to face the chief, Liv smoothed her black hooded cape. “Trock Swaliswan, how many times have you been politely warned not to steal from the mortals on this island?”
The goblin struggled in his bindings, making him roll more into the mud and eat a mouthful of dirt.
<
br /> “Oops, sorry.” Liv lifted her hand, and the goblin rose and stood upright. “That’s better.”
Trock spat out a mouthful of mud, splattering Liv’s boots. She eyed it and gave the goblin a disgusted look. “I’m going to allow that to pass this one time. The next time, you lose an ear.”
The goblin laughed, showing a mouthful of missing or blackened teeth. “You’re a joke if the House of Seven sent you to deal with us. They know we can’t be stopped.”
Liv tipped her finger to the side and the goblin’s face flew forward, his feet still connected to the Earth. She stood him back up after drenching his face in mud once more. “The thing is, I’m new to the House, and darn it if I know how to play by the rules.” She spun, and her cape swirled around her. With the movement, the closest small huts crumbled to the ground.
When she faced the chief again, Liv slapped her hand to her forehead. “Oops. Did I do that? Sorry.”
The goblin shook his head, mud spraying in all directions but missing Liv. “You’re not to damage our property when enforcing rules.”
“Right, I’m supposed to cite you for your injustices,” Liv agreed in a bored voice. “Tell you that this is a warning, and if you do it again, you’ll have to answer to the Council and possibly have your magic locked.” Liv yawned loudly. “Here’s the thing: you don’t care about those punishments. You’re going to keep doing this until someone teaches you not to, so I figured I’d save everyone the trouble and be that person.”