Here's a sneak peek from my from novel. Note, it hasn't really been edited yet because I haven't had the time. So, there are probably some grammar errors and what not (don't hold it against me, I've been busy!)
“Evie! We need to go. Now!” Layne spun and dropped
to one knee, narrowly avoiding the thick shaft of wood that swooshed over his
head. He rolled to the side, dodging the man’s backswing. Layne shouted in
frustration and anger as his dagger flashed momentarily before it disappeared
into the other man’s thigh. A man’s scream of pain and the clatter of a dropped
weapon joined the cacophony of battle. Layne pulled the slender blade from the
man’s collapsing body and turned back towards Evie. “Evie, now can we go? We
need to get out of here before more guards show up.”
Evelyn stopped rummaging through the oak chest and
glanced around the room. She did a quick count in her head. “Thirteen. A bit
few, huh? And here I thought you were enjoying the opportunity to play the
‘knight-in-shining-armor role and killing everyone for me.” Layne flinched and
took a step back. He cast his eyes on the ground before replying meekly, “You
know I can’t control it. Ah, so much blood. What have I done? What have I
become?”
“Layne, calm down, I was only teasing. Thanking
for coming back for me. But I really need to find that book. I saw Drogan throw
it in here the last time he had me brought up here…” Evelyn turned back to
Drogan’s storage chest.
Layne was in the process of voicing his opinion of
her when the scuff of a boot and the twang of a bowstring announced the
presence of another. Layne’s head snapped around as time slowed to a stop.
Adrenaline, powered by the blood of the Wardens, enhanced his perception of the
situation. He could see beads of sweat hanging from the guard’s furrowed brow.
Dust particles were flying in all directions away from the released bowstring
and the arrow seemed to be driving a wedge between air molecules. As he
prepared to jump out of the way, Layne calculated the trajectory of the air.
Something was terribly wrong. It was the set in the man’s gaze. Hatred, yes,
but also familiarity. And then Layne understood his mistake.
The bowman was not aiming at him. The arrow was
streaking straight towards Evie’s unprotected back. There was not time for
thought. Layne’s legs acted out of instinct, hurtling his body towards his
oblivious companion.
Time slammed back into normalcy in an explosion of
sound, chaos, and pain. Layne’s lanky form smashed into Evie just as she
exclaimed, “I found it, La- ooff!” Evie was flung across the room, a bewildered
expression on her face and a small, leather-bound book clutched tightly in her
hand. Pain lanced through Layne’s body, as the deadly arrowhead dug into the
muscle of his shoulder. Layne pivoted and sprinted towards the doorway and the
guard beyond. Anger fueled the adrenaline-induced frenzy. With inhuman speed
and grace, Layne leapt over the inert bodies of the slain guards and landed
mere inches from Evie’s would-be murderer. Not even bothering to reach for the
gleaming blade at his side, Layne struck the guard in the chest with his open
palm. A loud crack accompanied the strike, as the man’s sternum cracked and
crushed the soft, vital organs beneath it. The guard, like a puppet whose
strings had been cut, crumpled to the ground. Lifeless eyes stared back at
Layne.
Layne’s eyes flicked up at the sound of heavy,
booted footfalls on stone. He stepped back from the corpse at his feet and
rested his hands on the hilt of his sword as yet another guard come around the
corner. Layne found the moment to be, oddly, surreal. The guard raised his voice
and his weapon and charged down the narrow corridor. Layne’s slow, steady
heartbeats measured time like a drum on a parade ground. He filled his lungs
with air that was pregnant with the stench of death. The guard’s boots pounded
the floor in rhythm with the beat of his heart. Layne blocked out all sound and
closed his eyes. He heart sent firm vibrations throughout his body. He focused
on the ripples of motion that were emanating from his advancing adversary. The
time was finally right.
His eyes snapped open, his hands ripped the
Harbinger from its jewel-encrusted sheath. In one fluid motion, Layne, a silent
guardian, lifted the silvery blade into the air and swung it down across the
man’s exposed neck. Metal cut flesh and bone with equal ease as the blade descended
in its deadly arc. The man’s head, freed from its bonds, sailed into the wall
and fell to the cold stone with a wet thud. Blood from the headless neck
drenched Layne’s face, before the body teetered to the ground. Silence engulfed
Layne. Pain overwhelmed him. The battle fury fled from his body, like a rat
fleeing a sinking ship.
Tell me what you think!
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