Rise of the Valiant by Morgan Rice

the ground, dead.
    Merk stood there
facing the girl, who held the bloody dagger in her hand, and looked down at the
corpse. She was breathing hard, her face still filled with fury, as if her
desire were unfulfilled. Merk understood the feeling, all too well.
    She slowly
looked up at him, and as she did, her expression shifted, and he could see the
gratitude in her eyes. And for the first time in as long as he could remember,
he felt good about himself. He had saved her life. For a fleeting moment, at
least, he had become the person he wanted to be.
    With the
battlefield still, with all the thugs dead, Merk allowed himself to lower his
guard, just for a moment. He stepped forward to embrace the girl, to hold her,
to let her know that everything would be okay.
    But as he did,
he suddenly noticed motion out of the corner of his eye. He turned and was
shocked to see the boy with the crossbow, the one he’d thought he’d killed,
somehow back unsteadily on his feet, even with the sword through his chest. He
held the bow with shaking arms, and aimed it right for Merk. For the first time
in his life, Merk was caught off-guard. His caring for this girl had dulled his
senses.
    There came the
awful sound of an arrow being fired, and Merk stood there, frozen, no time to
react. All he could do was watch helplessly as the arrow flew through the air,
right for him.
    A split second
later, he felt the horrific agony of an arrowhead hitting his back, entering
his flesh.
    Merk sank to his
knees in the mud, spitting up blood, and as he did, what surprised him most was
not that he would die, but that he would die here , at the hands of a
boy, in the mud, in the middle of nowhere, so close, after such a long trek to
starting life again.
     
     

CHAPTER NINE
     
     
    Kyra struggled
against the heavy net as it fell down upon her, caught by surprise, trying
desperately to break free. Cast by several soldiers, the net, made of a steel
and rope mesh, must have weighed a hundred pounds, and she found herself pinned
down by the thick rope as the men yanked on every side, stretching it tight.
    They yanked
again, and she found herself flattened, face-down in the snow with the others,
all pinned down. Andor and Leo snarled viciously, bucking, writhing, and while
Leo turned and sank his fangs into the net, his efforts were useless, the steel
too hard to chew through.
    As Kyra watched
the Pandesian soldiers closing in, wielding swords and halberds, she kicked
herself for not being more vigilant. She knew that if she did not find a way
out, they would all end up back in bondage, with a brutal imprisonment, and
this time, a likely death. She could not let that happen. Most of all, she
could not let her father down. Whatever the cost, she had to escape.
    Kyra struggled
as she groaned and reached for her staff, unable to grab it, her arms pinned to
the ground. She tried desperately to break free and she knew their situation
was dire.
    There came a
horrific noise, like a lion bursting from its cage, and slowly, to Kyra’s
surprise, the net began to rise. Kyra turned and was shocked to see Andor,
using his tremendous strength to somehow gain his feet. To her shock, he
twisted his neck, reached out with his huge fangs, and tore right through it.
    It was the most
incredible thing Kyra had ever seen. This miraculous beast, a pure specimen of
power, chewed through the steel rope and, in a fit of rage, shook his head and
tore it to bits. He stood higher and higher, raising the net for all of them,
and a moment later, Kyra found herself unrestrained.
    Andor leapt
forward in a single bound and sank his fangs into the chest of the closest
soldier, a man whose eyes opened three times as wide at the sight of him. The
man fell, instantly killed.
    Andor then swung
his head to the side and as another soldier charged him with a sword, he used
his fangs to slice his chest in two.
    Two more
soldiers charged from behind and Andor leaned back and kicked them with his
mighty