Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
It was a summon. Summons had a simple remedy. Kill the summoner and they went away.
I’d have to cover five hundred yards, and those spears looked a lot like javelins.
“We have to get to the summoners.” I looked at the guard. “I need a horse. Do you have a horse?”
The kid shook his head, his eyes opened wide.
“Where is the closest stable?”
“Eight blocks to the south.”
Too far.
The fringe mage pointed at the gate with her staff and let out a short, high-pitched shout. The rhino grunted and started forward, aiming for the gate, accelerating into what would become a crushing charge.
The skull mage shoved his staff into the ground. Thunder cracked again, and a pack of six gray birds burst into existence. They stood on two legs, the tallest almost seven feet. They looked like some kind of mutated ostriches, except their necks were shorter and much thicker, their wings were tiny and useless, and their heads, two feet long, were mostly eyes and a huge, nightmarish beak, flat and heavy like an axe head.
What the hell…
“Since a horse isn’t handy, how about a bison?” Owen offered.
“Sold!”
Owen grabbed me by the waist and jumped off the wall. He landed with a thud, let go of me, and planted himself. He raised his arms, stretched his chest, flexed his back, took a deep breath, and blew the air out of his nose. A deep, furious red drowned his eyes.
The monster rhino picked up speed. He was almost running now. The skull mage screamed out a command, and the birds took off toward us at ridiculous speeds.
Owen’s body tore in a whirlwind of flesh and bone, and a big bull bison hit the grass, his horns the size of my forearms. I jumped onto his back.
Owen bellowed. It was so deep and rumbling, it was almost a roar.
The birds overtook the rhino.
Owen charged. I grabbed his mane and held on for dear life.
The rhino barreled toward us, the birds in a tight flock in front of him. The ground shook, and I couldn’t tell which stomps came from the rhino and which came from Owen. Every strike of his feet nearly sent me flying. Bisons weren’t meant for riding.
We hurtled at each other.
One hundred feet to the birds.
Eighty.
Sixty. I pulled the magic to myself.
Thirty.
Ten.
“Ahissa!” Flee.
The power word punched the flock. For a moment they were still running at us, their eyes wild, and then the magic sunk in, and they scattered, fleeing for their lives. We thundered forward, straight at the rhino.
“Turn! Owen, turn!”
We didn’t turn. We didn’t slow down. We galloped faster.
“Turn!”
The rhino loomed in front of us, the huge horn poised to gore.
Oh my God.
I threw myself to the right, tucking my legs and arms in. The ground smashed into me. My teeth rattled. Owww. I rolled, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Owen veer to the right, missing the horn by inches, and slam at full speed into the rhino’s left foreleg, hitting it from the side, all of his weight and momentum hammering the leg inward.
The rhino crashed. The ground shook as if a giant had punched it.
Owen bellowed and rammed the fallen rhino, sinking his horns into the bone armor plates protecting the monster’s gut.
I scrambled to my feet and sprinted to the summoners.
Curran
“Again, Mayor Gene, they weren’t Pack shapeshifters.”
We’d been over this, but the mayor simply couldn’t seem to grasp that the bodies in the cells were as much a mystery to us as they were to them. I hadn’t expected to give a lecture on Shapeshifters 101 but here we were.
“Meaning what?” The short, powerfully built older man leaned forward, placing his tanned forearms on the table. Visible among the scars was a blue-green blob of ink that may have been a legible tattoo at some point.
“Meaning most shapeshifters belong to one of the larger, organized packs who claim an area. For instance, shapeshifters who live in Wilmington belong to the Atlanta Pack. The Pack maintains a regional office in Wilmington, and Keelan oversees it. If new or unaffiliated shapeshifters moved into the area, they would be obligated to make their presence known to him.”
“Obligated?”
“Yes. It is considered polite. It avoids unfortunate misunderstandings.”
Keelan cleared his throat. “It’s not really optional. They introduce themselves in twenty-four hours or we come to see them.”
“You said most shapeshifters belong to a pack,” one of the council members said. “So, some don’t.”
“Those shapeshifters who don’t belong to a pack generally fall into two categories. The first would be individuals and small family units who live in unclaimed territory.”
“And the second?” Mayor Gene said.
“Loups.”
“The crazy ones?” one of the council members asked. Everyone at the table drew back a little.
“The correct term is magic-induced psychosis.”
“These aren’t loups,” Keelan said, nodding at the bodies in the cells.
“How can you be so sure?” Ned asked.