I can’t help but smile.
I agree.
Sweat and steel hit my nostrils, mixing with the earth and salt of the stone hallway like a spice blend crushed and ground from our bloodline. Shouts and clanking vibrate through me, beckoning me toward my men as Riot and I jog to the arena. We exit the tunnel to stand on the edge of the underground cliff and gaze down into the cavern filled with fighting pits and training pens. The aged, fraying rope outlines the stone fighting ring in the pit, black lines tracing a merciless border. The gray rock is stained and chipped from centuries ofblood and weapons trapped in this pit, their beholders taught to never surrender, forged with fealty to one higher power—the call of the Hunter. The training pens are built into the rockface surrounding the pit, cages serving the purpose of learning to fight in confined spaces.
Below us, warriors attack and defend in captivating choreography, every movement intentional and exact.
Riot crosses his thick arms over his chest. “They look good.”
I nod. “Can’t disagree. Let’s get down there.”
I grab the rope tethered beside us and swing down, landing silently, Riot right behind me.
“Hunters!” I bellow, my boots scraping over the stone quarry as I dip into the center ring.
My men still and lower to bended knee.
It’s an intimidating job to be in charge of every Hunter, every life. And in a moment like this, when I’ve already failed three of them, the pressure on my chest is suffocating.
“Are you ready to kill a king, brothers?”
I doubt we’re getting Sam out of Goreon Castle with anything less. They’ve never had their hands on one of us before, and I can’t imagine the king will let Sam out of his sight. But that’s still a blind guess. I don’t know where they’re detaining him.
The cavern reverberates with hollers and cheers, warriors brimming with pride and purpose.
Everyone knows about the recent attacks—it’s why we’re here—but I kept the news of Lou and Sam close to the chest until we had the chance to inform Master Hull in person. And I won’t inform the legion until everyone has arrived.
“Rise and let’s eat together while we wait for our kinsmen.”
Men I’ve respected my entire existence surround me. Muscled, sweaty flesh with the warmth of human blood quivers and flexes as warriors stand.
I nod as they pass; one by one, they acknowledge me before climbing the cliffside.
“Captain!”
My head jerks towardthatvoice. “Uncle Brachett.”
“Get in here, boy,” Brachett says.
The fiercest man I’ve ever known wraps me in a hug, clapping my back before his large, gnarled hands grip my shoulders.
“Can’t believe it’s been ten years,” I say, looking into his kind eyes, identical to my father’s.
“It’s been hell in the East,” he grumbles. “I’m glad you’re finally putting an end to all this.”
“Good to see you in one piece, Uncle.”
He steps back with a laugh, shoving his hair from his eyes. “Barely, although I hate to admit it.”My eyes narrow, magic stirring. “What do I need to know?”
He yanks down the edge of his collar to reveal the ragged fang marks on his fair skin. “Fucker got me. An entire hoard attacked us on the road.”
When we accept our magic and make the choice to devote our life to the Hunters, we can’t be turned against our will. When we’re bitten, it heals just like any other wound.
Well, unless a Hunterchoosesto turn. But no one ever would. And no one ever has.
“Shit,” I mutter. “Go clean that wound. Looks festering.”
Brachett huffs. “Bite before this one took a month to heal. I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.” He winks at me before moving on to greet Riot.
