Hunted(35)

With the help of King Lyle and his guardsmen, they searched the perimeter of the arena inside and out. Some clue must be around, but it was difficult to find them when more than twenty-thousand people were screaming as they ran away, the war bells scattering them like cattle. So far, no sign of Penelope, save for the disaster of her dressing room.

“Maybe we should search further out,” offered Reece, of the king’s personal guard.

Before Ryon could respond, a peculiar cry caught their attention. A howling roar charged through the air. It came from the isolated forest nearly a mile west from the arena which was further from the chaos, the attack taking place on the eastern border.

“What was that?” a guard asked, unnerved.

“That’s the sound of an Avagarian howling,” Ryon said. “They took her.”

Ryon needn’t say another word. He merely exchanged a look with his long-time friend, Lyle, before they both broke out in a sprint toward the sound.

Amazing that he’d been shot yesterday. He could not feel the wound at all. Last night, the pain had kept him awake the entire night. That, on top of worries over today, had left his mind fretting. However, any pain he experienced vanished in the wake of adrenaline surging. He knew he had to tap down inside him, push aside the pain, and fight for Penelope. He never thought it’d happen like this.

“What do you suggest we do now?” Lyle asked, raising his voice to be heard over their breathing.

“Kill the Avagarians who took Pen.”

Ryon was left-handed making his sword arm opposite most of his opponents. The enemy he was about to face didn’t bother with swords or pistols. Their weapons were different and more dangerous. Avagarian strength was incomparable. As an opponent, you had to stay a clear distance away. The physical strength and vicious bites could easily kill a human. They’d been known during the war to crack people’s spines clear in half, severing the life from them.

The forest grew sparse on the western countryside, creating an open expanse where wheat flourished in chest-high waves. The forest, normally alive with earthen-creatures scurrying to find food and shelter, sat still and watchful. Even the ants had packed up at the sound of the war bells and gone into hiding.

Another sound struck him—sending Ryon into a charging run the likes of which he’d never felt. It was Penelope, screaming in unholy terror. The scream abruptly stopped but, it didn’t matter; he’d already pinpointed where the sound came from. Cutting a hard left, he surged over fallen logs, leaping, feet sinking into squishy mud. Lyle’s pounding steps beat right behind him.

They broke through the clearing, leaving mere moments to make a decision.

He saw three Avagarians, one already dead on the ground. Another had Penelope pinned beneath it. Ryon shook, a switch being thrown he never knew he had. Like a snap of the fingers, he was ready to kill. His first target: the Ava holding Penelope by the neck. In the mere seconds he had to take in the situation, he saw his woman crying and shaking but fighting fervently against the attack. He told himself he wasn’t too late. That she hadn’t been bitten yet. He could still save her.

Some things in life made you simply react. Your brain shut down, save for two thoughts: kill or be killed.

And he wasn’t dying today.

The sound of his running steps garnered the attention of the two agitated Avagarians pacing near Penelope. Ryon marked the first one he saw as his primary target, mentally ticking the second as his next. The Ava on top Penelope would die a painful death. He’d make sure of it.

Ryon leapt into the air with an almighty roar. Three massive, yellowed-eyed heads turned to him in surprise. He raised his elbow back, sharp point out, and used his voice to strike fear as he roared.

The Ava he targeted jolted, stunned at the surprise attack.

Lyle came in behind him, giving an answering battle cry. “For Tarlè!”

Ryon swung his blade as he landed within distance of the creature. Snarling, it dodged and Ryon fell on the Ava’s chest knee first. They collapsed to the ground locked in a physical embrace. Ryon’s grip slipped on the blade during the wrestle as the beast wrapped its solid arms around him in a bear hug.

It squeezed him, the pressure unbelievable, sending warnings of pain to his mind in constant flashes. Air exploded from his lungs in sharp gasps, muscles creaked, bones cracking as the Ava growled, pulling him tighter, trying to break him in two pieces.

Ryon grunted and flexed his muscles, every single part of himself using his own body’s force to push against the pressure trying to squeeze him in half.

Penelope. He had to do this for her.

Suddenly, his mind cleared, a brand-new pathway opening to him. He calmed, not hearing, not thinking—only reacting.