Here is a sample from "Predator & Prey" Book Two of The Devenshire Chronicles. Enjoy and please provide feedback. Devenshire stepped out of the forest and paused at the edge of the clearing, his eyes focusing on the small campfire directly ahead. He could make out the silhouettes of Brianna and Shantira seated by the fire, warming themselves against the growing chill of the night. Darkseed had left right after they had made camp, saying he had an errand to run and would return soon. His eyes darted around the area lit by the fire, but could not find Zandorth among them. It was odd that the warrior would have left the women alone. While they were perfectly capable of defending themselves, Zandorth’s warriors’ code would not have permitted him to leave them unprotected. Suddenly he tensed as he simultaneously heard a faint rustle of brush and felt the definite point of a sword being pressed into his back. “You take dangerous chances,” came the deep timber of Zandorth’s voice from behind him. Devenshire relaxed and smiled, “It warms me to know that you are covering my back,” he said. “You very nearly had my sword in your back. It is unwise to sneak up on someone’s camp unannounced,” Zandorth replied gruffly. “I was not sneaking. Besides, I heard your approach. Not your usual level of skill at stealth,” Devenshire replied. Zandorth stepped around in front of Devenshire as he sheathed his massive broadsword. He leveled a hard look into Devenshire’s eyes but there was the tiniest glint of mischief in their gray depths, “You heard what I wanted you to hear. I have been tracking you since your last kill,” only the faintest traces of a grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he took in Devenshire’s uncomfortable response. “I see,” Devenshire replied as he realized that nearly half an hour had passed since he had killed the last hare. Could he have been so focused on the hunt that he had missed Zandorth’s presence? Or had the incident earlier in the hunt with the mysterious stalker had his attention preoccupied? Then again, he reflected, Warriors of the Ancient Class were renowned for their stealth. Zandorth looked down at the four mountain hare carcasses in Devenshire’s hand and nodded slowly, “Impressive. I did not think you had the heart of a hunter.” Devenshire arched one eyebrow and smiled with a tired chuckle, “Hunger can inspire great feats of skill.” Zandorth nodded again, “True.” The two men began walking towards the fire. As they walked, Devenshire looked up at the rim of the crater and tried to gauge if the glow from the small campfire could be easily seen from the trail below. Following their harrowing escape from Lirpa, they had ridden through the next day and into the evening, trying to put as much distance between them and the city as possible. As the sun had started to set, he had begun looking for landmarks he remembered from earlier treks into this area. They were riding into the Kil’tafore Mountain range which was a mixed blessing. The rugged terrain meant Captain Armand would have a difficult time making up lost ground and it would provide ample hiding places should the need arise. It would also slow their progress in their pursuit of Xavier. Ever since they had left Lirpa, Zandorth had tried to locate the Follower’s trail, but could not find it. That meant that Xavier had skirted Lirpa and was bearing due north, the shortest route back to the Duval retreat. Devenshire knew that he would have to consult his maps very soon and try to pick the quickest path to intercept Xavier. As they grew nearer to the fire, his eyes came to rest on Shantira, seated close to Brianna. Concern flared within him again over what had happened to the young woman. Her behavior since arriving in Lirpa had been strange to say the least. Brianna had told him how she had forsaken Zandorth’s and her own safety to secure Brianna’s security at the hands of the Royal Guards. While he knew little about her, what he did know did not lend itself to Shantira being given to bouts of panic. He recalled his first encounter with her when the bandits had her cornered in the woods outside her village. She had been outnumbered and wounded and still managed to kill one of the bandits before being captured. The fight with the sheriffs and Royal Guards last night showed her rigid control over her emotions as she had fought with the fervor to rival most men. So what was it about Brianna that made her panic at the softest whisper of danger to her? His unease was heightened by her repeated requests over the past day that they stop to tend to Brianna’s wound. At first they were pleasant, but as she issued each one, they became more and more demanding. He had tried to explain to her that Brianna was fine and that they needed to make as much ground on Armand as possible, but she seemed to only focus on Brianna’s needs and safety. Finally he had to bring Shantira and Brianna together so that Brianna could reassure her that she was fine and could wait until they made camp. At that moment, the insistence ceased and Shantira returned to her normal behavior. It was odd to say the least and would definitely bear keeping an eye on. He watched in satisfaction as both women looked up at them long before they entered the circle of light from the fire. He also noted that both women had their hands on the hilts of their swords. It would be pure folly, indeed, to make the mistake of trying to sneak up on these two. Brianna regarded the four large hares and nodded, “I am impressed, Daimion. I did not know that hunting was among your many talents.” Devenshire arched one brow and smiled seductively at her, “It depends entirely upon what I am hunting.” They locked eyes as that silent understanding passed between them. Brianna’s lips twisted into a smile and her eyes sparkled lightly as she knew full well what he had meant. “Oh by the Fates!” Zandorth exclaimed as he took the carcasses from Devenshire, “Do you two ever stop?” “Indeed,” Shantira agreed. She shifted her gaze to Brianna and Devenshire and felt the now familiar flare of jealousy flare within her chest. She, like Brianna, had known exactly what Devenshire had meant by his response and the thought of their intimacy annoyed her more with each passing occurrence. She pointed towards the hares in Zandorth’s hand, “I could help you with those,” she sorely wanted to make up for her behavior the night before. Zandorth leveled a hard glare at her, “I can manage,” he didn’t wait for an answer as he moved off to begin cleaning the hares. Shantira’s face fell in disappointment as she realized that getting back into the Warrior’s good graces was going to be more difficult than she imagined, Brianna reached over with her right hand and patted Shantira on the arm, “Give it time.” Devenshire chuckled tiredly as he laid his bow and quiver of arrows on the ground before lowering himself to an upended log near the fire, “A lot of time.” Shantira pulled her emotions back under control and shifted her gaze to the shadowed area where Zandorth had begun dressing the hares. She put her right elbow on her knee and propped her chin in the palm of her hand, “How long?” Devenshire shrugged, “It depends. He is a hard man with hard ways. Trust is not something that comes easily with him and once it is violated, it is twice as difficult to earn back.” Shantira only nodded as she swiveled her eyes back to the shadowed image of the warrior. She remembered every event as clearly as though they had just happened and, at the same time, there was a haze surrounding the memories that was nearly impossible to define. It was as though she had been outside her body, watching the events unfold as though she were a spectator and not a participant. Her brow furrowed deeply as she tried to piece together the fragmented ends of her reasoning and make a connection between her actions and why she had performed them. She suddenly realized that Zandorth was far enough away from the fire to be practically working in the dark. “How is he dressing the hares in the dark?” Devenshire looked back over his shoulder at Zandorth’s silhouette, “Warriors of the Ancient Class are often required to work under less than ideal conditions. That includes performing tasks in near total darkness,” he chuckled as he shifted his attention back forward, “I would wager that he will do a much better job dressing out the hares in the dark than any of us could do in full sunlight.” Devenshire leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together in front of him. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, taking a moment to rest and try to sort through the conglomeration of thoughts running rampant through his mind. How far ahead of Armand were they? How far behind Xavier were they? Who had been stalking him during the hunt? Who was Lordalise and why was he going to so much effort to make it appear as though he was a vampire? Was there a vampire in the area? Who had summoned the demon at the inn? Who was Rachelle Tambrey? Why had she followed them to Lirpa? Why had she gone to the trouble of saving him and healing his wounds only to dismiss him as though he were distasteful to her? Why could he not get her completely out of his mind? Could Xavier tap into the Stones of Andarus? If he could, would he be able to control the uncontrollable? His temples began to throb as he tried to sort through each of the questions which would spin off into other questions. He sighed heavily. He needed to eat and get some rest before trying to sort through the homogenous mess in his mind.
Posted on: Sat, 03 Aug 2013 15:14:02 +0000
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