The warehouse didn’t have a high ceiling. The walls on either side stretched far apart. There weren’t shelves or bins or anything else where someone could hide. It was simply empty.
“What should we—” Gavin glanced over, but Wrenlow was gone. “Wrenlow?”
How could Wrenlow have simply disappeared?
The magic.
Balls.
Gavin squeezed the hilt of the El’aras dagger and looked down at it. The blade glowed softly. He had been focused more on the strange pressure that he felt, focused more on what he could uncover, and hadn’t paid any attention to where it was coming from.
And that was a mistake.
Gavin swung the El’aras dagger from side to side and felt something pressing on him. It had to be magic.
“Give me some sign, Wrenlow,” he said.
He didn’t like that this was now the second time on this stupid job where he’d started to be concerned about his friend. This was supposed to be an easy task.
“Wrenlow?” he called out.
A figure flickered at the edge of his vision, and Gavin spun. A man dressed in dark clothing swung a staff in a tight spiral.
Gavin glared at him. “You don’t want to do that.”
A whistling sound came, and Gavin dropped, spinning off to the side. He looked behind him at another man, a dark hood covering his face. He also carried a staff—which had whipped just above Gavin’s head. These attackers were fighting in the dark, unless they were enchanted like Gavin was.
He sprang to his feet, twisted in a rapid kick, and missed. The nearest attacker was skilled enough to dart away from Gavin’s attempt to strike him. Gavin positioned himself so that he could look around him better, but he still couldn’t see Wrenlow.
One of the men swung his staff toward Gavin, who batted at it with the El’aras dagger. Gavin spun out of the way and came face-to-face with a third attacker.
Tricky.
“Gavin?” Wrenlow’s voice came through the enchantment, panic within it.
“Where are you?” Gavin asked.
“Door,” Wrenlow said. Then he grunted as if in pain.
“Wrenlow?”
Gavin ducked. One of the attackers spun his staff, coming close to Gavin’s head, but he lowered it just in time and avoided the attack.
He had to get to the door. He had to get to Wrenlow.
It wasn’t too often that he let his own anxiety guide his fighting style. Most of the time, he was in control. Within control was the key to his success; to knowing how he could react the way he needed and defeat the attacker.
Control equals precision.
Only, this time, Wrenlow needed him.
There were a few different fighting styles his mind raced through, but these men continued to jab their staves at him using the Bongan style.
They were Jind fighters from the far east. And skilled.
He would have to use a technique like Zar to defeat them, which had been taught to him early on. It was a high-risk, high-reward kind of fighting style, and there was always the possibility that somebody with enough skill could get past it. But when effective, it was incredibly brutal.
And in this case, the worst thing that would happen would be them striking him with one of their staves.
Gavin had been hit many times before. He didn’t fear pain, but he also didn’t want to welcome it if he didn’t have to.
He jumped and spun, and given how low the ceiling was, he kicked in midair and came flying down toward one of the attackers while driving his fist out. The staff came at him, but Gavin’s speed allowed him to slam his fist into the man’s jaw. Gavin rolled, his legs catching the man around the neck, and he twisted hard until he heard a crack.
Gavin sprang back to his feet, and one of the men jabbed his staff at him. Gavin kicked, and the staff connected with his thigh.
It stung. Stars, but it hurt.
Gavin tamped down that pain, ignoring it. He had no choice but to do so.
He jumped again and drove his knee toward the man’s face, but his opponent darted off to the side just in time. As the man nearly flew past him, Gavin grabbed the staff, twisted it quickly, and pulled it toward the man’s head. The suddenness of the movement caught the attacker off guard, and Gavin jerked the staff with such force that it crushed the man’s chin. When he landed, Gavin spun the staff quickly and connected with one of the other attackers, who blocked the thrust of the staff.
The enchantment started to flicker. The light it offered would fade soon. The attacker paused for a moment and twisted the staff, then tapped it on the ground.
Five others appeared out of the shadows.
Just then, another surge of magic struck, and everything plunged into darkness.
Chapter Two
Gavin spun the staff. The ring’s enchantment had faded, and Gavin could only hear his opponents now.
A whistling sound came toward him. It was quick, but Gavin was quicker.
He flicked the staff up and spun around.
These men were skilled, but from what Gavin could tell, they also only relied on their ability with the staff, not the way that Gavin could augment the Bongan style with other techniques.
And those other techniques were the key to victory.
Gavin spun again. In the darkness, the Zar fighting style wasn’t going to be as effective. It was too risky.
He thought about how many attackers he knew were there. At least five.
No. Six.
There had been three, and Gavin had brought down two, leaving the one remaining. But then there had been five more that had come right before his enchantment had left him in the dark.
Gavin had no idea if the enchantment had faded because it had been spent—something that was entirely likely, given what he knew about how the power waned over time—or whether the enchantment had been dampened by magic around him.
That was equally possible. He had been around sorcerers before who had the ability to
