Savant & Feral (Digital Boxed Set): Books 1 and 2 of the Epic Luminether Fantasy Series

by Richard Denoncourt

  Calista leaped backward to avoid a sudden jab from Leticia’s tail. The suddenness of the movement made her stumble and fall, and Leticia took the opportunity to pull a throwing knife from her belt with her unwounded arm.

  Calista’s breath caught in her throat, fear seizing her entire body as Leticia’s agile fingers maneuvered what was actually a stack of knives, making them fan out to expose three blades instead of one. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the knives flying.

  Calista tried to shield herself, but her entire body recoiled as one of the knives bit in her right forearm. Another took her in the chest, and the third and final one managed to land beneath her collarbone, severing muscle as it went all the way through.

  She collapsed onto the floor. Wind slipped from her grasp.

  “It’s over,” Leticia said weakly, clutching her wounded armpit and staggering toward Calista, tail at the ready. A marble of poisonous green liquid swelled at the tip.

  There was only one way out now. Calista tried morphing into her hawk form. Her body blurred, as if suddenly wrapped in heat waves, and the air around her shifted, but it was useless. She lacked the strength and mental focus to phase.

  “You’re near death,” Leticia said, studying Calista as if she had all the time in the world to decide how to finish her off. “Even if you did phase, you could never come out of it and live.”

  Calista tasted blood. One of her lungs had been punctured. The woman was right.

  She spat on the floor, then gave Leticia a challenging look. “Milo and Emma are coming for you. They’ll squash you like a bug.”

  Leticia tilted her head back and laughed. The sound was joyful, womanly, totally unlike the rasping hiss from before.

  “Sorry, girl,” she said in mock sympathy, “all they care about right now is studying for exams. I’m your only friend tonight, and I’m going to do you a favor. I’m going to take the pain and the shame away forever.”

  She picked up her sword, blood dripping from the wound she no longer seemed to notice. Breathing in shallow spurts, Calista struggled to get to her feet. Blood rumbled inside her lung. It tasted like metal and poison. She could feel it coating her teeth and tongue, clogging her throat.

  She had only one weapon left to strike the woman with.

  “Your face,” she told Leticia, “is repulsive.”

  Leticia froze. She lost the smile, and her nose wrinkled in a snarl. Flourishing the short sword, she approached Calista with the calm steadiness of an executioner simply doing her job.

  Calista used the silence of the next few moments to refocus her mind. She had only one chance to pull it off correctly, to shrink into her hawk form in time to miss the swipe of that blade.

  Leticia raised the short sword, but never swung.

  A crash sounded outside the tower—a distant, violent rumble that made the platform shiver. Leticia lowered the sword and looked around in shock. Calista listened. Dust fell in thin curtains from the ceiling.

  It had been an explosion, but not one caused by spell or bomb. Something huge was ramming into the walls of the stadium.

  A rhythmic rumbling could now be heard, mostly through the vibrations in the suspended platform. Looking uncertain, Leticia placed her focus once more on Calista, obviously eager to get this over with. Lifting her sword, she lunged forward.

  Calmed by the noises outside—which could only be the Forge somehow breaking into the coliseum—Calista mustered her remaining mental strength. She phased into her hawk shell and flapped away from the falling blade, her sharpened sight catching the enraged look in Leticia’s narrowed eyes, and a moment later, she was back inside the ventilation shaft.

  Amazingly, she was still alive—though not for long.

  Her human wounds were still there, deep inside of her like a jagged sliver just waiting to tear her apart, and Calista wished she could have spoken to Artemis one last time through the transmitter. But she would probably never speak in human tones again. The baker would never know just how much she cared about him. Nor would her friends.

  Death seemed the only path for her to follow now.

  She was ready for it.

  CHAPTER 36

  G unner crept around the corner of the building.

  Keeping to the shadows, he locked Kellan and his cronies in his sight as they walked toward the academy, Garig stomping about and throwing punches into the air as if envisioning how he might have beaten Sevarin and Gunner into bloody pulps a minute ago. Kellan strode confidently at the forefront of the group. Nothing seemed to affect his laid-back attitude. It was as if he lacked human emotion altogether.

  Garig might have been intimidating, but Kellan was just plain creepy.

  As Gunner skulked along the sidewalk after them, his pulse thrumming in his ears, he passed a tailor with an outdoor stall pitching handmade coats and hats. He quickly purchased one of each, paying the man with emergency cash he kept tucked in his shoe, and used the clothes to hide as much of himself as possible. He must have looked like one of those private investigators he had read about in novels; the kind that roams the mean streets looking for clues to solve murders.

  Feeling anonymous made him breathe more easily. His heart stopped hammering against his ribs. There was no reason to be afraid now. All he had to do was see where Kellan was leading his group of friends, then use his Araband to inform Sevarin of their whereabouts. Once he did that, he and his friends could regroup and figure out their next move.

  At one point, Kellan veered off the avenue into an alley. His friends glanced at each other, obviously confused, before shrugging in dumb obedience and following him inside.

  “Weird,” Gunner muttered. Maybe they had seen someone inside? Maybe—and the thought horrified Gunner—they had found their next victim?

  Gunner could have turned back, but a small part of him feared having to admit failure to Sevarin. A much larger part of him, probably his conscience, prodded him forward, just in case there truly was another person in that alley—he pictured a helpless young girl—about to be kidnapped by Kellan and his goons.

  He crossed the avenue, peered into the alley, and saw only darkness. A few high windows threw down just enough light for Gunner to make out a small, empty parking lot at the other end that served the surrounding buildings. But there were no vehicles parked within.

  He crept through the alley, listening for footsteps or sounds of conversation. Instead, he heard a loud jangle.

  Peering into the darkness, he made out a chain-link fence surrounding the lot. Kellan and his friends had probably jumped over the fence, Kellan having to climb over while his Sargonaut friends jumped. That would explain the single, abrupt noise. Maybe this was a shortcut they used to get back to the academy.

  Except that didn’t make sense. The campus was in a completely different direction. And yet, the lot was empty, so they had to have gone somewhere.

  Gunner entered the lot but stayed against the wall, where it was darkest. He looked around, saw and heard not a single thing, and breathed a sigh of relief. He had lost them, unfortunately, but at least he wouldn’t be getting into a fight with any Sargonauts tonight.

  “I was right,” a voice said from above.

  Gunner’s heart came close to bursting. His body chilled as adrenaline and fear pumped through him. He spun around and looked up.

  Kellan, Garig, and the other three boys clung to the outer wall of the building.

  The four Sargonauts had probably jumped up and grabbed what they could. Kellan, being a Savant, had elevated himself using a spell that still crackled around his legs.

  Kellan detached from the wall and let the spell float him down. Garig and the others jumped after him, landing with heavy thumps on the pavement.

  “Well, well,” Garig said, cracking his knuckles. “Where are your friends now, Squint?”

  Squint?

  Gunner would have felt angry at the racist nickname were he not so overwhelmingly afraid.

  “Guys, listen,” Gunner said, put
ting his hands up in surrender. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “What you don’t want,” Kellan said, extinguishing the spell and approaching Gunner with that dead-calm look on his face, “is to get crushed like a handful of twigs by a bunch of Sargonauts, which is why you being here makes absolutely no sense to me.”

  Gunner nodded frantically. “You’re right. Without a doubt. I don’t want to be here.”

  “Well, now that you are,” Kellan said, “we might as well play a little game. Here’s how it works—I’m going to ask you a simple question.” Blue sparks flickered in the boy’s eyes. “Answer truthfully, and I’ll let you walk away with your bones intact. However,” he added, joining his hands behind his back, “lie to me, and this will happen.”

  He threw a glance over his shoulder at Garig.

  Garig raised a fist and brought it down into the pavement with a loud bursting noise. When the dust cleared, Gunner saw a hole surrounded by a webwork of cracks. Garig rose, brushing the dust off his knuckles and smirking.

  “He’ll do that to your face,” Kellan said, “and he’ll love every second of it.”

  Gunner was trembling now.

  And, to make matters worse, he had to go to the bathroom again.

  “But—but my dead body,” Gunner attempted. “You would have to stash it somewhere. Lie to the wardens. Wouldn’t it be easier to just let me go? I mean, it’s not like I saw anything… out of the ordinary.”

  Kellan glanced back at his friends and chuckled, then looked at Gunner again, eyebrows raised. “We can figure out the matter of your dead body later. For now, let’s worry about that question, all right? Here it is, Gunner. Why are you and your friends following me?”

  Gunner’s mind stumbled over possible excuses. Damn it, Sevarin, he thought. Why’d you have to make me drink alcohol?

  “I’m waiting,” Kellan said. “The longer you take, the better your explanation will have to be.”

  Garig cracked his knuckles again. His three Sargonaut friends did the same, eyeing Gunner expectantly. Gunner swallowed his fear, found his voice, and recited the first lie that came to mind.

  “We weren’t following you,” he told Kellan. “We were following him.”

  He pointed at Garig, who looked taken aback.

  A flicker of uncertainty passed across Kellan’s face. Maybe this would work. It was too late to try anything else.

  “Explain,” he said simply.

  Gunner took another steadying breath. He tried to sound as natural as possible, though his thoughts flew around in his head like leaves caught in a storm.

  “Garig’s been flirting with Emma since we got here. You know her and Sevarin are a couple. Well… Sevarin’s the jealous type. He thinks Emma and Garig are hanging out behind his back, which she thinks is ridiculous, but you know… girls and their emotions, right? So you see, Emma and Sevarin had an argument, and Emma went out by herself. Sevarin and I followed you and Garig to see if she had plans to meet up with you. That’s all. I swear.”

  Kellan listened, not blinking once. His eyes seemed to bore into Gunner like lasers.

  “Makes sense,” Kellan said finally. He turned to face Garig. “Are you dating Emma Banks?”

  With an uncomfortable chuckle, Garig said, “Are you serious?” He shrugged. “I mean, I probably could if I wanted to, but—”

  “Just answer the question, you moron.”

  Garig looked slightly hurt by the comment. He held up his hands much as Gunner had done.

  “I’m not,” he said. “I swear.”

  A new voice entered the lot.

  “Well, that’s a weight off my mind.”

  It was Sevarin.

  Gunner squeezed his eyes shut. Just when I was taking care of it…

  Kellan and his friends spun around and ducked into defensive stances, that Sargonauts grouping into a well-organized fighting unit—their Academy training at work.

  Gunner watched Sevarin—ever his cocky self—as he strolled into the lot with not a care in the world.

  “I was just explaining why we were following Garig,” Gunner said.

  Sevarin blinked at him.

  Gunner’s heart almost broke through his ribs. “Because y-you want to make sure he’s not seeing Emma behind your back?”

  Sevarin’s brow furrowed for a moment before lifting in realization of what Gunner was trying to imply. He might as well have called Gunner a liar right then and there.

  “Oh, right,” Sevarin said, nodding awkwardly. “Emma.”

  He was a terrible actor.

  Kellan whirled on Gunner. “I knew you were lying. You think I’m stupid? Is that what this is?”

  He slipped a glowing luminether crystal out of a pouch on his belt using one hand. The other shot forward, releasing a spell that made the air ripple. The force of it slammed into Gunner’s chest and threw him back. He slid across the pavement, grunting in pain.

  “Lay off him,” Sevarin shouted, approaching the group.

  Gunner’s fear became panic. “Sev, don’t do it!”

  “He’s all yours, boys,” Kellan said, motioning to his friends. “Waste him.”

  Garig and his Sargonaut friends charged. Sevarin, instead of running out of the lot like a smart person, rushed forward to engage them. Gunner expected an impact of bodies, followed by some sort of wrestling match, but Sevarin had a different target. He leaped over the group, landed, and went straight for Kellan, grabbing the Archon’s son and tossing him backward into the chain-link fence.

  Garig was on him a moment later. Sevarin didn’t have a chance. If the brawl on the train had been any indication, the two were unevenly matched, to say the least. Sevarin must have realized this, because he immediately broke into a run to get away.

  Garig was faster. He leaped with lizard-like agility and clung to Sevarin, then jabbed him a few times in what must have been key areas along his torso until Sevarin’s body went limp. Sevarin looked horror-struck as he fell to his knees.

  Garig, sporting a victory grin, wrapped his hands around Sevarin’s neck, lifted him as if he weighed no more than a rag doll, and began to swing him around so fast they both became a blur.

  He let go, and Sevarin flew at an upward angle toward a nearby building. The impact was so great it shattered a window on the second floor and crushed the wall around it. Glass and shards of brick rained down on the pavement, followed by Sevarin’s limp body, which landed face-first with a sickening thud.

  The Sargonauts swooped in on him like wolves. Gunner pushed himself to his feet and tried to slip a hand into his pocket to grab his Araband, maybe to call someone for help, but a cold, tingling force stopped his arm. He looked down to see a sizzling blue vine wrapped around his wrist. The other end was attached to the luminether crystal in Kellan’s hand.

  He made a flicking motion, and the vine rippled, yanking Gunner off the ground and causing him to float, lightly spinning, in the air. The vines crept across his body, trapping him.

  “Let me go,” Gunner pleaded. “We’re not your enemy, I swear!”

  The cold, calm expression Kellan often wore had dissolved completely, leaving a look of seething hatred.

  “You shouldn’t have messed with me,” he said. “Now I’m gonna make you pay. You and all your friends.”

  He made another motion with the crystal, and the vine tightened around Gunner’s body with enough force to make his pulse thrum loudly in his ears as the blood in his body was compressed.

  Sevarin cried out as his attackers rained a flurry of fists into him. Gunner lost sight of his friend as he spun. When he was facing the group again, he caught sight of Kellan standing several feet away, holding a dagger with a shiny blade about six inches long. The crystal was on the ground, feeding the vine.

  Gunner studied the dagger with ever-widening eyes. He pictured its blade skewering his friend, Barrel. Then all he could think about was air. He needed more, desperately. The vine was crushing his rib cage and making it almost impossible to breat
he.

  “Let’s see,” Kellan said, narrowing one eye as he scanned Gunner’s body. “What should I aim for?”

  “Wait.” Gunner struggled against the coiled vine. It was useless. The strands might as well have been Tiberian Steel. “Please…”

  Kellan licked his lips. He flipped the blade into the air, where it glittered and danced, and caught the tip with two fingers. Then he pulled his arm back like an expert knife thrower.

  “No…” Gunner squeezed his eyes shut. “Please…”

  He flinched at the sound of someone shouting.

  Gunner opened his eyes and saw Kellan clutching the hand that had been holding the dagger, his face scrunched up in pain as if all the fingers were broken.

  Something made a banging noise to Gunner’s left. He looked and saw a brick tumbling across the pavement, the dagger sliding along with it.

  Gunner had been saved by—a brick?

  Sevarin couldn’t have thrown it. He was still getting pounded at the other end of the lot. Gunner tried to make sense of what had happened when a pale thing dropped into the parking lot with a crack like the earth suddenly splitting apart.

  Dust rose. The person who had dropped remained bent over, having formed a crater right in the center of the lot. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared.

  Gunner’s mouth fell open in disbelief.

  It was a woman, and though Gunner had never met her before, he knew exactly who she was. He even recognized the enormous broadsword she held in one hand.

  “Finally,” he said.

  CHAPTER 37

  M ilo returned to his body with an impact like a car crashing into a brick wall.

  He screamed. The last thing he remembered was the frightened look on Kovax’s face, the way his eyes had widened in pure shock as he realized what was going to happen next. Milo would have looked the same way now, if only he could have brought himself to open his eyes.

  He kept them shut and listened to the cheerful voices of the people around him, the shushing and gurgling of the fountain’s energy, the humming of Wingcabs swooping down to drop off newcomers. For some reason, he was too afraid to look at his surroundings. Too afraid to confirm what he already knew was true.