Hunted: The Warrior Chronicles #2

by K. F. Breene

  Everyone pulled their horses together, and as one urged the animals faster and faster until they were galloping toward the bustling city. The remaining traders stayed behind to deal with the carts.

  The weeds and wildflowers on the sides of the road gave way to small houses and tended bushes. Structures closed in on them and people started to litter the streets. Shops and fish markets crouched beside the road as they neared the city center.

  “Keep going!” Burson yelled.

  The horses clattered through the streets. People scurried or dived out of the way, shocked and shaken, yelling at their backs. Burson did not slow and neither did anyone else. They wound through the streets and forced through crowds. Burson had clearly been to the city before and knew his way. Or maybe his Gift was leading.

  The shops came to an end and turned into stalls run by traders or fishermen’s wives. A wide expanse of blue opened up before them. The sun glittered on the stretch of sea leading to forever. Masts rose, tall and stark, in the sleepy harbor. A ship was making its way out of the sheltered harbor toward the wide open sea.

  The lane led down to the docks. Traders and fisherman moved to and from ships.

  “There!” Marc pointed at a large, weather-beaten ship at the beginning of the docks. Tomous stood in front, staring in their direction. Tara was already on the ship gesturing wildly to a skinny man wearing dirty overalls over a splotched brown shirt with the legs rolled up to his calves. His feet were bare, as were those of his crew running around him.

  “Captain!” Alarm colored Tobias’ voice.

  Shanti glanced at Tobias and saw that coming down a parallel lane ran twenty horses carrying Graygual and a few Inkna. Hooves behind them had everyone turning in their saddles to see another group running directly behind them. The Hunter’s men were closing in.

  “We’re too late!” someone yelled. It sounded like Tepson. “We’ll never make it!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Never too late to kill the enemy!” Sanders yelled as he urged his horse faster.

  Shanti and Cayan led the pack, galloping down the slope to the harbor. People looked up at the thunder of hooves converging on the muddy beach before the docks. Many started running to one side or the other, as metal glinted in the late afternoon sun when fighters drew swords and prepared to fight. Rising above the clamor rang a few distinct words, “Take the girl and the old man alive. Kill the others.”

  It wasn’t a battle call. There was no cry of testosterone-filled men rising up to lead their Captain to victory. These were simply instructions. These men were bred to fight and kill. That is all they knew.

  A cold trickle of fear dribbled down Shanti’s spine. Not for herself; battle ran in her blood. She was hot with it. Ready to take up her sword and defend what was hers—her life and her freedom. But the men around her weren’t born in the fires of the underworld. Their lives weren’t shaped by the threat of annihilation. They weren’t prepared for what Xandre had to throw at them.

  “Settle me right at the mouth of the docks, Cayan,” Shanti yelled above the din as the gravel and dirt path turned into trodden grasses and mud. “Make them funnel down the slope to Rohnan and me. I need Burson behind me to keep the Inkna powerless, but otherwise, get your people onto that ship.”

  “No way, Captain!” Sanders yelled. “I’m in this fight. There is no way a woman is saving me again. It’s not natural!”

  “The best of us will be at the tip of the funnel,” Cayan said in a voice that brooked no argument. “Everyone else will get the ship ready to depart.”

  “We’re outnumbered. We can’t take them all,” Daniels called as they came upon the now-cleared beach. All activity had stopped. Those who didn’t get down the docks and away in time hunkered on their boats or the boats of those they knew, trying to hide or stay out of the way of the Graygual they must’ve recognized, and those running before them.

  “Right or wrong, it’s time they felt your Gift, Cayan,” Shanti said as she pulled her horse to a trot and then jumped off. She staggered to a stop, and then turned back and slapped the animal. It whinnied at her, bobbing its head.

  “Get gone—you’ll just be in the way and then killed!” Shanti yelled. She gave its mind a wrench. It growled, but relented, galloping after the other horses down the beach.

  The Honor Guard ran to Shanti. Pale and panting, they held their swords and awaited instructions. Even Marc had a shine to his eyes, terrified though he was. He’d fight and die right beside her if she said the words.

  And he would die, along with all the other boys.

  “Go get that ship ready,” Shanti barked, shoving Marc onto the dock. “This is no place for you.”

  “I can help!” Xavier said in a fierce growl.

  “Yes, you can.” Shanti punched him in the gut and then shoved him, wheezing, after Marc. “Get the ship ready. If I survive this, we’ll need to make a hasty getaway.”

  “You’ll survive, S’am!” Leilius said with utter conviction as he ran onto the docks. “See you in a while.”

  “We will survive,” Cayan said in a low tone. He stood next to her, facing the charging horses with a solid frame and flexed muscles. His blue eyes shone with the fierce light of confidence and victory. His Gift surged up and wrapped around him before connecting with hers and igniting the power running through her blood.

  “Fuck yes, we will!” Sanders growled. He stood with his legs bent. A sword adorned his right hand, a knife clutched in the other.

  Etherlan and Tepson waited behind him. Tobias was up on the dock with his bow out.

  Rohnan stepped up beside Shanti with his staff at his side. His green eyes were clear and his face tranquil. He looked over at her and winked. “Today, we kill Graygual.”

  “Today, we avenge our people,” she responded. Her adrenaline spiked. Her blood surged. “Today, we do our people proud.”

  Shanti turned her face slowly to watch the incoming horses. The Graygual would try to run them down, to stampede over the fighters stupid enough to get off their horses.

  “Oh Hunter, how you do underestimate my ability.” Shanti grabbed the first line of horses’ minds and twisted. The animals screamed, eyes rolled. Most bucked, punching the sky with their hooves.

  Men held on as the horses behind them rammed into those pulled up short. Two horses fell. Men tumbled off as horses crashed down into the mud. One head burst like a melon as a hoof landed on his temple with incredible force. The other screamed as a horse landed in the center of his back, breaking his spine.

  More men fell as Shanti increased the power. “They are well-trained animals,” she said as more equine screams pierced the day.”

  Chaos covered the slope as animals baulked and ran. Men fell or hastily clambered off, hitting the ground with two feet and scrambling to get out of the way of the wild, maddened horses.

  “Prepare,” Cayan commanded.

  Thumping sounded behind them. Tomous jumped into the defense, sword drawn, eyebrows low over his eyes. Tara stopped right next to Tobias, an arrow nocked and ready.

  “Loose!” Cayan ordered.

  The sound of bowstrings sang. Two men fell, but the tide of black was running down the slope, swords out, faces a blank mask. Cold-blooded killers would meet hot-blooded vengeance.

  Shanti stepped forward with her sword drawn. She sought out the minds of the Inkna, tugging on Cayan’s power and feeling his Gift’s strength fortifying her own. She found those soft and vulnerable minds, useless in the face of Burson’s Gift, which was powerful enough to reach from the ship where he stood and watched. With one surge of power, she wasted no time and stabbed into their meaty brains. The Inkna barely had time to scream before their minds turned blank.

  The Hunter hadn’t brought enough. He had planned for Shanti, alone. Thank the Elders they had kept Cayan’s Gift a secret.

  Shanti found the intelligent and cunning mind of the Hunter, standing way behind his thrust of men, before a wave of black descended upon her. A
sword slashed toward her middle, the stroke expert and precise. She blocked, shifted her weight, and struck. Her blade slid between his ribs. She pulled it back and turned her body to the side as shining metal cut down. The blade barely missed her arm. She kicked to the left, catching a man that was running toward Cayan in the solar plexus before twisting to get her sword into the guts of the man in front of her. She used his body as a shield against the next while snatching a knife out of her leg strap, tossing it up, and throwing. The business end blossomed red in the neck of a man running for the docks.

  “Chosen, incoming!”

  Shanti glanced up and saw a large but agile man preparing a sword strike to her right. Rohnan twirled away to another attack, throwing a knife to catch someone trying to run by. Shanti grabbed another knife, stepped within his arm’s reach, rendering his sword stroke ineffective, and stabbing him in the eye. She jabbed his inner elbow to render his sword arm useless as he died, and then plunged her knife into an enemy neck before pivoting and throwing at someone running at Etherlan.

  “We don’t have much more time,” Shanti yelled at Cayan. “And our combined power won’t kill all these. They’re too spread out and far away. You need to access that sub-level of power!”

  “I don’t know how!”

  “You must!” Rohnan yelled as a throwing knife skimmed off his arm, ripping through fabric and opening up a gash. “Or we will all die!”

  * * *

  Marc stood on the deck of the ship with his heart in his mouth. Most of the others had been given jobs to speed up their getaway. Even though it would make the Captain of this ship a marked man for life, he still planned to take them across the sea, but Marc had been too panicked, and shaking too badly, to help. He gripped the worn wood railing beside Burson as he watched the battle.

  “Why don’t they use their power?” he asked desperately.

  “Shanti is a master at her craft, but she is not the almighty,” Burson said in a strangely solemn voice. “She must work with Cayan to access his awesome power. It all depends upon this battle. We will live or die depending on him allowing her the access she needs.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Marc asked in a whining voice.

  “It takes great courage to expose our vulnerability to another, especially if our whole existence has been based on confidence. Not many would let down their guard within a battle setting—or at all. That kind of trust is a slow-built thing. It cannot be rushed, and this is the worst time to call upon it. Two guarded individuals must rely on opening themselves to the other after no time at all. It is an almost impossible feat.”

  “God, you talk too much,” Marc said as he bounced from foot to foot. He wanted to help. He wanted to grab his sword and run down the docks and launch himself at the enemy. Because S’am and everyone needed it. The enemy was swarming them all. There was just too many of them.

  “Why did S’am bring us?” Marc begged. “They should’ve brought someone who could help.”

  “You will play an important part, yet.”

  “I think you got the wrong set of guys,” Marc said as Xavier came jogging up to the banister.

  “Holy—I’ve never seen the Captain really fight. He’s… holy shit,” Xavier breathed.

  Marc took his eyes off S’am’s liquid, graceful, yet extremely deadly movements and looked to the large man next to her. Marc’s eyes widened. The Captain was strength and power, but he moved with such synchronicity it made the mind boggle.

  Marc watched as the Captain blocked a sword strike with an almost lazy movement. He spun with unnatural speed and stabbed down through the shoulder of an enemy. He kicked the knee of an oncoming attacker, bending the joint backwards before shifting his balance and slashing down for the kill strike. And he was on to the next. And the next. The man was fast, and lethal, but also elegant in his fighting, such that it was art.

  “I won’t ever be that good,” Xavier said in a hush.

  “Not many could,” Burson said. Marc could hear panic creeping into the older man’s voice. “He is one of a kind. But it won’t be enough. There are still too many.”

  The tide of black pushed the few back toward the docks. Tobias ran out of arrows and took out his sword to join the fray. He was immediately met with two of the enemy.

  Marc reached for his sword. He’d be damned if he just stood by while they died.

  “C’mon, Xavier—we’re not as good, but we’re better than nothing.” Marc trotted to the side of the ship where the ropes were pulled away and the deck hands waited for the command to embark.

  “Wait for me!” Marc heard. Sounded like Rachie.

  A sword swiped toward the Captain’s head as Marc ran down the dock. Marc screamed, but the Captain had ducked just in time, stabbing his sword into his opponent. Two more took the dead man’s place. And up on the slope, sitting on a perfect specimen of a horse, sat the Hunter, looking down on the battle. Marc couldn’t make out his features, but he knew that disgusting man had no expression at all. He was watching and waiting for his time to strike and claim his prize.

  “Hurry!” Marc shouted. His feet pounded the dock.

  Xavier was right behind him. More feet sounded on wood.

  They’d be too late. The Captain and everyone were at the water’s edge, right in front of the dock, trying to keep people off. Trying to keep Marc and everyone safe.

  “No!” Marc cried as a sword glanced off S’am’s leg. She staggered, righted herself, and then tripped on a lifeless body at her feet. She fell into the Captain, who stabbed his sword through someone’s gut and turned to catch her before she fell into the mud. Black shirts descended on them.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Run, Cayan. Go kill the Inkna-Chosen. It’s me they want,” Shanti said through gritted teeth as Cayan grabbed her.

  He looked up with terrified eyes as a sword arched through the air, right for her back. She didn’t even have time to scream. She looked up into the handsome face of the Captain and leader of the Westwood Lands, preferring those crystal blue eyes as her last image over the disgusting visage of Graygual scum. But the killing blow never came.

  “Given up, Shoo-lan?” Sanders growled as he stabbed a Graygual with four slashes across his breast. “One more and we’re even.”

  Shanti straightened up and tried to turn, to get back to the battle they were losing, but Cayan held her fast. He stared down into her face as his men rushed by him to keep the Graygual back.

  “What are you doing, Cayan?” Shanti demanded, trying to break free.

  “We have to use the Gift!” he said, his gaze delving into hers. His hands clutched her shoulders. His face hovered inches away.

  “I’ve been trying! I can’t get at that power. And I can’t concentrate long enough to get at the Hunter. Let me go!”

  “We need to do whatever we can.”

  “I can’t kill this many, Cayan!” Shanti screamed. “If I try, I’ll only kill a couple while just hurting the others, and deplete myself and you in the process. Then the boys won’t even be able to get away. We have to hold out so the others have a—” Shanti looked up at the movement on the dock. Her heart sank. Marc was sprinting toward them with a terrified but determined expression, holding a sword. Xavier was right behind with Rachie and Gracas behind him. Leilius was not last—Ruisa was, though she knew so little about fighting.

  “No,” Shanti said in a defeated sigh.

  “Now, mesasha! Access my power now!” Cayan yelled, shaking her.

  Desperate, horrified, Shanti looked up into Cayan’s eyes. Pleading. Knowing she was the reason everyone would die. She would not only be killing Cayan and his men, but boys who weren’t even men yet. Boys she’d deserted and who now couldn’t fight well enough to save their lives.

  Cayan grabbed her face with surprisingly delicate hands as someone screamed—it sounded like Jaime. Cayan’s gaze locked with hers. “I’m ready.”

  She focused on those eyes. She clutched his chest. Taking a deep breath and letti
ng the world around her haze, knowing she had to lose the world for a moment as the only way to save those boys’ lives, she let her mind merge tighter with Cayan’s. His emotions, anxiety, fear, determination, tenderness, flew by her in a flash. She sank into him, to that intimate place, and let herself open to him in turn.

  His power rushed into her as hers sank into his. Their power rolled and boiled, mated and now flowered. Brewing then surging. Brewing. Surging.

  The spice turned to heat, but this time, not arousal. This time, her rage fueled the fire. Her vengeance. And most of all, the deep, aching sorrow that made up the very base of her being: her loss, her memories, and the people she loved that she hoped to see again.

  All this she offered up to Cayan while trying to sink toward that well within him. To access the recesses he didn’t share with others, holding his own loss, and his insecurity. His own sorrow, and the aching loneliness. Their moment of sharing created a level, even, balance of their mated powers.

  Shanti ripped off the cover to the deep vat of power within Cayan.

  Power gushed through his body, filling him up then immediately spilling over into her. It raged through them, blistering in its heat and power. It moved along the newly balanced plateau they had created and then crouched, waiting to be directed and released.

  Shanti sheathed her sword, slipped her hand into Cayan’s so that contact reminded her to keep this balance lest that power tip and crush one of them, before turning to the battle. Etherlan limped. Blood dripped down his right arm. But still he fought, using his left. Sanders was growling and grappling, head butting, biting, stabbing and jabbing his fingers in eyes, anything he could to get his opponent down. The boys were slower, cumbersome and jerky in their movements, but they fought with everything they had, barely escaping blows and jabs by pure luck in some cases.

  No time to lose, barely seeing the others fighting people away, Shanti felt with her Gift for the Hunter. Such a weak, feeble bit of power she possessed in comparison to what she was holding at bay with her and Cayan’s strange but intimate truce. She almost laughed with the paltry quality of it, high on power as she was.