Read Online Savage Prophet: A Yancy Lazarus Novel (Episode 4) by James A. Hunter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James A. Hunter
Tags: dark fantasy, mage, warlock, bigfoot, paranormal and urban fantasy, s Adventure Fiction, Fantasy Action and Adventure, Thrillers and Suspense Supernatural Witches and Wizards, Mystery Supernatural Witches and Wizards, Men&apos
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pack.
“Okay,” I said, “so we know how we can’t leave. What other options do we have, ’cause I’ll willing to bet a bank vault full of unmarked bills that those Gwyllgi are coming for us. We managed to kill two”—I held up two fingers to emphasize the point—“and that was in a confined space where we could fight ’em head-on. If a pack encircles us out here in the dark, where they can maneuver from shadow to shadow, we’ll last all of fifteen seconds. So we need options.”
“The Cubiculi ex Ostia ,” she said, snapping her fingers. “If I had to guess, I’d say that’s the quickest way out. Gee, the only way out at this point. Not even the defensive dome can keep us from leaving through the Portal Room, and even in emergencies, the Cubiculi is required to remain open and operational for the purpose of troop dispersal.”
She frowned and tapped a finger against her chin. “There shouldn’t be any extra guards assigned to the post either. Three guards,” she said, nodding enthusiastically, her grimace turning into a dimple-cheeked smile. “Officer of the Day, one duty guard, and an assistant. Shouldn’t be any more than that. If we move quick, we could be there in …” She paused, rocking her head from side to side. “Five minutes. Yep, five minutes.”
The shadow-wargs cried again, their raspy yowls rising up into the night. They were closer now. Much closer. Drukiski’s smiled faded and slipped away, replaced by a look of growing dread.
“We’d better haul some serious ass, then.” I absently glanced over my shoulder, searching the shadow-coated hills for some sign of movement, for some sign of the encroaching pack. I saw all of jack-shit, which made me more worried instead of less. How the hell did you fight an enemy you couldn’t see?
SIX:
Red Tape Ninjutsu
We stole through the night, stalking through the shadows as quick as the dark would allow for, which didn’t feel quick enough. Not by half. The yowling of the wargs carried on the breeze—intermittent, but closer every time they sounded. It didn’t help that we had to navigate the terrain well off the beaten path, cutting our way behind the cottages and shops, trudging through grassy fields, toes catching on buried stones or tree roots, all in a bid to remain hidden.
It was unlikely someone would stop us on the road—what with all the craziness running amok—but that wasn’t a risk we could afford to take. Better to play it safe and stay far away from everyone. No telling who could be trusted.
Our movements were further restricted by a thick layer of silvery fog blanketing the ground, obscuring the landscape for a half-mile, giving us a limited visibility of about six or seven feet, tops. That mist, though supremely inconvenient for moving fast, was of my doing. I couldn’t be sure whether the Gwyllgi hunted by sight or not—Drukiski seemed to think so—but if we couldn’t see jack-shit, that meant they couldn’t either.
How the hell did you fight an enemy you couldn’t see? You leveled the friggin’ playing field, that’s how.
A cool wind swirled around us—another Vis-wrought construct—disturbing the fog, spitting my scent out in every direction, spreading it through the fog and around Moorchester like bloody chum in the water. If the Gwyllgi didn’t use sight to hunt, they sure as shit used scent, but with my smell plastered over every inch of the fog, they’d have a helluva time tracking me down. Not to mention, the billowing fog had the added benefit of dampening sound, which further masked our movements from any preternatural senses. At least in theory …
With supernatural assholes like the Gwyllgi, though, you could never really be sure they didn’t have some other sensory ability tucked up their metaphorical sleeve. But hey, if my plan didn’t work out, I could always resort to blowing shit up.
That’s my fallback when subtlety fails me. Which is
“Okay,” I said, “so we know how we can’t leave. What other options do we have, ’cause I’ll willing to bet a bank vault full of unmarked bills that those Gwyllgi are coming for us. We managed to kill two”—I held up two fingers to emphasize the point—“and that was in a confined space where we could fight ’em head-on. If a pack encircles us out here in the dark, where they can maneuver from shadow to shadow, we’ll last all of fifteen seconds. So we need options.”
“The Cubiculi ex Ostia ,” she said, snapping her fingers. “If I had to guess, I’d say that’s the quickest way out. Gee, the only way out at this point. Not even the defensive dome can keep us from leaving through the Portal Room, and even in emergencies, the Cubiculi is required to remain open and operational for the purpose of troop dispersal.”
She frowned and tapped a finger against her chin. “There shouldn’t be any extra guards assigned to the post either. Three guards,” she said, nodding enthusiastically, her grimace turning into a dimple-cheeked smile. “Officer of the Day, one duty guard, and an assistant. Shouldn’t be any more than that. If we move quick, we could be there in …” She paused, rocking her head from side to side. “Five minutes. Yep, five minutes.”
The shadow-wargs cried again, their raspy yowls rising up into the night. They were closer now. Much closer. Drukiski’s smiled faded and slipped away, replaced by a look of growing dread.
“We’d better haul some serious ass, then.” I absently glanced over my shoulder, searching the shadow-coated hills for some sign of movement, for some sign of the encroaching pack. I saw all of jack-shit, which made me more worried instead of less. How the hell did you fight an enemy you couldn’t see?
SIX:
Red Tape Ninjutsu
We stole through the night, stalking through the shadows as quick as the dark would allow for, which didn’t feel quick enough. Not by half. The yowling of the wargs carried on the breeze—intermittent, but closer every time they sounded. It didn’t help that we had to navigate the terrain well off the beaten path, cutting our way behind the cottages and shops, trudging through grassy fields, toes catching on buried stones or tree roots, all in a bid to remain hidden.
It was unlikely someone would stop us on the road—what with all the craziness running amok—but that wasn’t a risk we could afford to take. Better to play it safe and stay far away from everyone. No telling who could be trusted.
Our movements were further restricted by a thick layer of silvery fog blanketing the ground, obscuring the landscape for a half-mile, giving us a limited visibility of about six or seven feet, tops. That mist, though supremely inconvenient for moving fast, was of my doing. I couldn’t be sure whether the Gwyllgi hunted by sight or not—Drukiski seemed to think so—but if we couldn’t see jack-shit, that meant they couldn’t either.
How the hell did you fight an enemy you couldn’t see? You leveled the friggin’ playing field, that’s how.
A cool wind swirled around us—another Vis-wrought construct—disturbing the fog, spitting my scent out in every direction, spreading it through the fog and around Moorchester like bloody chum in the water. If the Gwyllgi didn’t use sight to hunt, they sure as shit used scent, but with my smell plastered over every inch of the fog, they’d have a helluva time tracking me down. Not to mention, the billowing fog had the added benefit of dampening sound, which further masked our movements from any preternatural senses. At least in theory …
With supernatural assholes like the Gwyllgi, though, you could never really be sure they didn’t have some other sensory ability tucked up their metaphorical sleeve. But hey, if my plan didn’t work out, I could always resort to blowing shit up.
That’s my fallback when subtlety fails me. Which is
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