Luke Pane and the Great Defeat | Book 2 ( Epic Fantasy Adventure )

Prologue

As Luke saw walls of flame eating away at the homes around him, he squinted angrily and winced to the shouts of the villagers fighting for their lives, the swords clanging, and the hooves shuffling and stamping about. All the fences were broken, houses... raided and ruined by a group of ten highly skilled men wearing black hooded armor with masks over their mouths.

As much as the people tried to fight back, it never mattered; the men were too swift and skilled with their weapons. They were mercilessly taking out any villager that would dare fight them.

It was starting to rain, hard, beating on Luke's scratched and bruised skin like shards of glass as the young man raced away from one of the dead villagers, Mrs. Harris, with his sword tightly grasped in one hand, a furious glare plastered on his face. She was beaten, stabbed in the torso and her throat had been slit. He had ripped his shirt off and held it over her neck as she tried to speak to him, but she was bleeding profusely. Her death was the most painful, traumatic, thing he'd ever witnessed.

She was like a grandmother to him. He and Esmé had lost all their grandparents due to old age or heart attacks, but this woman suffered so greatly in a way no good-willed person should ever experience. She had to be avenged. These monsters were going to suffer the same brutality they put her through. Luke was going to mutilate all of these men.

He ran around a corner and his reddened watery eyes fell on Alarich lying in the middle of the road with his best friend, Joby, standing next to him panicking and placing his small hands on the horse's rib-cage. Arrows protruded from many areas of Alarich's body. He must have burst out of his pin to fight.

Joby had already been wounded; his arms were sliced and an arrow was lodged in his thigh. He could barely stand, but sheer determination kept him going.

Luke ran up to them, his eyes zipping from Joby to Alarich, examining the extent of their injuries. His heart pounded like a drum and he felt as though it were burning and tearing apart like crumpling paper. He knew there was nothing he could do. He was sure only the doctor, the doctor's assistant, or Esmé could help. The chances of them still being alive though, was half and half.

Please, no. His sister had to be alive!

He jolted out a rough; "Where is Esmé ?"

Joby shook his head at Alarich as the horse breathed heavily and moved his legs. "Why, why would they hurt him? Why!" He cried.

Luke grabbed his shoulder, making him yelp and look into his eyes. Luke repeated himself, "Where is Esmé? Have you seen her? Where is Mr. Thomson?"
Joby's mouth fell slightly, eyebrows rising. "I-! The Doctor has been taken hostage. His assistant is dead! Esmé? I don't know! Last I saw her, she-" Suddenly, an arrow darted past Luke. "HNG!" It shot into Joby's stomach.

The imp fell back on Alarich with a "MMPH!", and held it in surprise. Grunting, he looked up from the arrow into Luke's eyes with pain and shock.

Luke's eyebrows shot up with worry, his pupils shrinking as he watched Joby jerk a few times before looking down again at the arrows in his stomach and leg. One of Joby's ears sprang up as he heard someone pulling back on a bow, causing him to flinch and then peer over Alarich in the direction of the archer.

Luke followed his eyes and saw a raider in one of the houses across the road. As soon as the raider knew he'd been spotted, he quickly ducked out of view. Luke grimaced and turned back to Joby and Alarich.

He snatched the Imp's hand; "Joby, listen to me. You will live. You're magical!"

Joby frowned at him, stuck between wanting to believe and trying to understand why this has happened to them—to the village. Little whines and squeals emitted from him just as the pain seemed to grow even more.