The Lord of Death (The Age of Dawn Book 2) by Everet Martins Page B

scrambled onto its chest and pinned the long sword to the ground with one hand. He used all of his weight to drop a vertical elbow into its flaring mouth, producing the satisfying pop of a dislocated jaw. He smashed his elbow into its soft face two more times, black blood covering his elbow.
    Walter lost his grip on its functioning arm on the next blow, and scarcely moved his head in time before eating its blade. He rolled backwards and tried to stand, slipping in the wet mix of red and black blood, falling onto his back.
    The monster leaped into the air towards Walter, sword withdrawn for a lethal strike, black droplets of blood trailing in a line behind it. He inhaled sharply, focusing his mind upon this cusp. He turned to Grimbald, still gasping on all fours, face tomato red. He looked to Nyset who met his eyes. “Together!” She shouted. Yes, together.
    A single burning disc sprung to life above her. She pushed it with blistering speed and Walter touched it, making it different. What am I— the disc spun in the air and slammed into the creature’s head with the flat side, exploding in a hail of green liquid. The beast fell from the air and shrieked on the ground, ineffectually trying to wipe at its face. Not something you can do very well when you’ve let your hands be replaced with swords. Walter scrambled away, eyes wide.
    Smoke billowed from its skin and armor. The greenish liquid was burning holes through its armor and the floor around it. It writhed on the ground, frantically smashing with arms and legs. Its mangled arm twisted in unnatural directions and tore free with a thrash, sliding across the ground before Walter and Nyset, leaving a line of blood in its wake.
    He put his arm around Nyset, preventing her from falling over. She felt so small against him. He wanted to drift into a deep sleep right there, in the mess of red-black gore. Exhaustion is indifferent to circumstance. Grimbald winced as he walked toward them, one hand clutching his bleeding shoulder.
    “What in Dragons was that? He almost killed us,” Grimbald said between groans.
    “I don’t know,” Walter said gravely.
    A soft humming emerged from the spiraling staircase leading up to roof. “Hm. Yes, I think I shall read that one first, most appropriate,” Baylan said softly. “Why is it so quiet? Are you being lazy and avoiding engaging in your training?” he yelled from around a corner. Baylan walked through the roof’s entryway and stopped in his tracks. The tall pile of books stacked in his arms tumbled to the ground and his mouth fell open.

Chapter Five
    The King
    “The Metamorphose, a doppelganger, has potential to bring empires to ruin through subterfuge and cunning without unsheathing a blade. They’re able to perfectly mimic humans, and, therefore, may have any manner of disposition.” -from the Death Spawn Compendium by Nazli Tegen
    B aylan stormed around the circular table, arms gesturing wildly.
    “What were you thinking? They weren’t ready for a Ripper!”
    Malek lounged in a plush leather chair, legs in a figure four, and hands clasped behind his head, hood raised. “You said to get them prepared for battle as soon as possible, and that’s what I did,” he said flatly.
    “I said prepare, not slaughter,” Baylan said, banging his palms against the table. He fingered the long silver dagger that sat on his hip, staring without blinking at the sinewy wizard.
    “Don’t do something you may regret,” Malek said, yellow eyes pulsing with a red glow. Baylan unsheathed his dagger and slammed it into the table with thump.
    “I have no regrets and I never will,” Baylan snapped.
    Malek smirked at the shining dagger. “A fine blade. Where did you get it?”
    “Do not try to change the subject,” Baylan said icily.
    “Okay, you’re right.” Malek said, palms open. “Perhaps a Ripper was a bit severe for such an early test. But did they slay it?”
    “That’s not the point, the —”
    “The boy and girl worked