Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 153795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Rynthea roars as she jumps over me to attack him. An onslaught begins as three more people appear. Somehow, through all the mayhem, the man with red stitching holds my ankle steady while fighting Rynthea off with whorls of blue and smoke.
“Come on, Zaira!” Torjack yells.
“I can’t!” I scream. “He has my ankle! I can’t move!”
“Shit!” Torjack curses.
Someone flies out the back door, across the field, and slams into the ground with a thud only a few inches away from me. They’re bloodied and dead…definitely dead. My hand searches desperately for my spectacles, but the body has landed on top of them.
“No!” I wail. “No, no, no!” I shove the man’s leg off of them, only to see shattered lenses. I start to grab them, but someone beats me to it and snatches them up. Another masked person. A woman.
She tugs her mask down to sneer at me. “Can’t see? What a shame.” She tosses them in Torjack’s direction, then lifts her sword, about to bring it down on me until another sword penetrates her chest, driving straight through her heart.
“Get out of here, Quinlocke!” I hear Thane shout.
Of course he’s killed the woman with precision like that.
The woman crumples to her knees, then her head slams into the ground.
I feel the grip around my ankle weaken when someone lets out a loud yell. I’m not entirely sure, but based on their blurry silhouettes, I think Rynthea has just injured the man with red stitching.
When the grip completely vanishes, I crawl around the dead person who taunted me to find my specs, spreading my fingers over the cold dirt in search of them. Finally, I spot them, but someone else picks them up before I can reach them.
My heart drops, until I quickly realize it’s Torjack.
He offers me a hand. “Come on. I’ll guide you. Just hold my hand.”
Torjack helps me up, and we scurry away. I steal a glance over my shoulder and am almost positive I see Thane snatching a sword out of the woman who just teased me about not being able to see.
What a bitch.
Not my fault Orvena gave me eyesight that’s weak at best.
We can’t all be winners.
Fortunately, the man with red stitching is nowhere in sight.
“Bunker is right over here,” Torjack says, panting. He points ahead, but it’s useless. I can’t see anything clearly past his arm. The towering trees are a blur of green and brown, the sky seems farther away, and the sun feels twice as bright.
The commotion behind us has doubled.
Wood splinters.
A man cries out.
Someone hollers in pain.
Fortunately, it doesn’t sound like any of the people fighting for us.
Finally stopping, Torjack bends down and touches the ground, swiping leaves until he comes across a metal handle. I make out a hatch covered in moss and grass. He hauls it open, and I squint my eyes, trying to see what’s down there, but it’s completely dark.
“We have to go down the steps one person at a time as there’s not much room.” Torjack faces me. “It’ll be a little dark, but there’s nothing terrible down there, I promise. You go first. I’m right behind you.”
I place my feet on the first stone step.
“Just grip the rail there. Yep, right there,” Torjack instructs as I reach for the built-in railing. I hold on tight, taking each step one at a time, until the soles of my boots meet softer ground.
Torjack joins me after shutting and locking the hatch. Darkness consumes us. I feel him slip past me, his fur brushing my arm, before he rummages around a bit. A clicking noise echoes, and the bunker flickers with light.
“How long has this place been here?” I squint, trying to decipher what is what. I move closer to a towering piece in the corner to see it’s a shelf lined with books. Next to it is a table for four. I run my fingers over the smooth top and rub the tips together. They’re free of dust. Used recently.
“A while. This is the Kamtaur bunker,” Torjack says, and based on his tone, it sounds like he’s smiling. “We hide out here when we get news about riots happening in Ruvain, or when an alert goes out that beastials are being hunted. Rynthea hates it down here, but it’s saved our lives more times than I can count.”
“That’s awful, living that way. Being hunted and all.”
“Yeah. It is. Sadly, you get used to it.” Torjack shifts closer and pulls a chair out for me. “Go on, sit. Rynthea will show up. I’m sure she’ll slaughter the lot of them. Same for that dark, grumpy friend of yours. Hope Algar makes it out, though. He thinks he’s stronger than he actually is.”
“I hope so, too,” I murmur, clinging to faith they’ll make it out alive.
Torjack takes the seat next to mine so I can better see his face.