A New Light (The Astral Wanderer Book 1), D'Artagnan Rey [best romantic novels to read .TXT] 📗

if he should go and look for the boy before he got too far. If something befell him, even if it were as a result of his stupidity, he would feel terrible. But a part of him was sure that he would hightail it back to town once he saw the woods. No sane person would see even the forest line and think it safe in any way.

He collected a few coins from nearby tables and decided he would give them to the kids. They had earned a little extra and he would tell them it was from Devol. It would at least help them to remember him fondly when the boy returned that night—and he was sure he would have a much more exciting story to tell about the woods when he did.

“A torch was the right call,” Devol mused and snapped his fingers to light it as he began his journey through the Wailing Woods. He had to admit that they certainly looked the part of a creepy forest. It was rather dark, even with the sun now properly out. Shadows lingered along the closest thing to a path that he could find, which mostly meant those sections of the woodland floor with the least shrubbery and potential hiding places for snakes, of which he had seen a few. He’d encountered no flesh-eating insects or likan yet, but he had found the signs of the rodents—pawprints and droppings along the way. The trees were odd as well, with dark-gray bark and some with unusual white stains akin to chalk or ash. He did not have a clue where that could come from.

He did keep the warning of flayers in mind. Those were particularly nasty. He had only read about them and seen the bones of one at a museum, but even most assuredly dead, they were unnerving. They had long, angular heads with a lean physique and curved arms and legs with giant crescent-shaped claws that they used to strip the skin of their prey. From what he understood, that meant anything with blood and meat, so he would certainly qualify as prey if he encountered one.

His senses alert, he strode along his rough path until he heard a noise. Well, several noises, but the breathing in particular caught his attention. He huddled behind one of the trees, extinguished the torch quickly, and slid it into his pack as he scanned the forest in front of him. The sound was garbled, harsh, and almost wheezing, which suggested that whatever made it was struggling although he couldn’t be sure of that.

He caught sight of a round, dark object—a hairy blob with a pink-white tail—and noticed two more behind it. The first reared its head to reveal a large, puffy, furry face with pale, fleshy lips. Two pointed front teeth protruded and round gray eyes darted keen gazes in all directions. They were, quite unmistakably, the giant rats.

Were they hunting or scavenging? Despite their size, they were not the most ferocious of hunters, often prey for bigger beasts than them or packs of smaller ones. They traveled in small groups whenever they ventured out of their domain, and Devol doubted this was a morning stroll for them.

Then he noticed something else far ahead of the creatures but in their path. It appeared to be a man, although he was too far away to see details, and he wore what he thought might be a dark-gray or black hooded cloak. He was crouched in front of some shrubbery and seemingly studied it or looked at something within. The boy looked from him to the rats.

This would not end well if the stranger were caught off-guard. Giant rats were not terribly agile, but they made up for it with quick, vicious strikes on unlucky prey, and their girth was not merely fat but well-muscled as well. He realized that the heavy breaths were the last lungful of air the beasts would take before they began to creep up on their potential meal.

His first instinct was to shout a warning to the man, but that would draw their attention and he was a closer target. He had no problem facing them if he had to, but it wasn’t his best option and it would be better to do so while he had the advantage.

With that in mind, he reached back for his sword. After the first day he had wielded it, he had not fought anything or anyone with it, only used it for practice before his parents sent him hurriedly to find those who could help him—the Templars. Well, it seemed like now was a good time to break the blade in properly.

Chapter Two

Devol drew the sword and couldn’t help but look at it for a moment. The blade was broad and the tip was pointed and angular and sloped forward. What made it unique in his eyes, however, was what it was made of. It did not appear to be metal and had looked like glass the first time he saw it.

Even now, it was almost translucent. In the light, he could barely discern a shimmer of some kind of light within of a pale gold or white color, at least when it was in his hands. When he wasn’t holding it, the blade almost looked like nothing more than a showpiece. It was dangerous, though, as the dire wolf that had attacked him and his mother could have attested to if it was still alive and could speak.

He crept quickly but quietly toward his quarry. Now only a few yards behind the rats, he was careful to not step on any twigs or scuff against any of the trees and reveal his presence. If he could strike without them noticing, he could potentially kill one of them immediately and leave him with only two to deal with. He inhaled quietly, closed his eyes, and let his Mana flow. It surged through his body and connected to his