Hand of the Hunter: Chosen of Nendawen, Book II Read Free Page A

cheek.
    “Scream,” it said.
    “No,” Darric said through clenched teeth. With the grip crushing just under his jaw, it was all he could manage. His mind came up with a dozen defiant curses, but he didn’t have the breath for one of them.
    “How will you scream, I wonder,” said the thing, “if I cut you here—and here?” It ran the edge of the blade downDarric’s cheek, first one side, then the other, just hard enough to break the skin. “If I unhinge your jaw, are you strong enough to scream while I eat your tongue? Or will you swoon like a tavern drunkard?”
    Darric renewed his punches and kicks, aiming for every vulnerable spot he’d been trained to strike.
    “Ahhh …” The thing twitched, blinked, and again Darric was struck with the image of something trying to break out of a cocoon. “I can feel your heart beating. So fast. Hammering. You are scared, yes?” Its eyes opened wide, glistening black eyes with hearts of fire, and looked down at Darric. “Good. Fear makes the blood run fast. Makes—”
    Darric was looking right at the thing when the arrow hit it. A perfect strike, missing the top of Darric’s head by less than a foot, then hitting the soft flesh between the thing’s throat and chest, going in deep. The sheer force made the thing stumble back a step, but it didn’t fall or loosen its grip on Darric’s neck. Just stood there looking down at the black shaft of the arrow. The beginning of a snarl twisted the thing’s lips.
    But then a crack of green fire sparked along the black shaft of the arrow. No, Darric saw. Not a crack. The light expanded, like flame running along oil, and Darric could see that the fire traced a pattern of intricate runes all along the shaft.
    “No!” The thing’s eyes widened and it let Darric go. He hit the ground and forced air through his throat.
    “No! No! No-no-no! N-n-no! N-n-n-n-n—!”
    Darric heard genuine panic in the thing’s voice. It grabbed the arrow with both hands. Close as he was, Darric heard the flesh
hiss
as if he’d grasped a branding iron fresh out of the coals.
    The thing shrieked. It was a cry beyond sound, bypassing Darric’s ears and raking down his spine like jagged fingernails on slate. It was beyond human, beyond anything he could have imagined.
    The red embers in the thing’s gaze died, and green fire shot from its eyes and mouth. Fumes poured out of its nose and ears—black and heavy, falling over its shoulders and down its face, a thick miasma. The shriek died, fading away like a final echo. With it, all strength left the thing’s body, and it fell to the ground like the dead flesh it was.
    Later, looking back at that moment, Darric felt sure what happened next lasted no more than a moment. Certainly no longer than the time it took for the body to hit the ground. But time seemed to stretch, every detail clear in Darric’s sight, every sound distinct. The Nar stood dumbstruck. More than a few jaws dropped, and every eye, round and wide, fixed on the lifeless corpse that only moments ago had been their feared leader.
    But the stillness broke. Someone out of Darric’s sight cried out an order in Nar. Darric’s command of the language was limited at best, but he caught one word clearly—“Kill!”
    Three Nar, blades in hand, ran for him.
    Darric pushed himself up and scrambled for his sword. But the thing’s death grip was locked around the hilt and he couldn’t pry the fingers loose. Cursing, Darric reached for the dagger at his belt.
    He was halfway to his feet when he felt the wind of the arrow’s flight. He heard it pass overhead like an angry wasp, and there was a
crack
as the arrow struck the nearest Nar. The man flew backward, his arms thrust before him, and hit the ground a good six feet away from where he’d left his feet.
    His nearest companion stopped in his tracks. He crouched, causing the arrow to hit him in the head. The man’s head went back with such force that Darric heard the neck snap, and the