The Angaran Chronicles: The Underside; An Extract by Ben Agar (great books to read .txt) đź“•
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- Author: Ben Agar
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Gasping for breath, Anargrin just managed to lean out of the path of Alicin’s vertical slash, an attack that cut quickly into the wall in his wake, before sticking short. Before Anargrin could use the opening, the gray-haired vampire was attacking, cutting out his huge greatsword in a wild, slow, but powerful horizontal arc.
Anargrin swayed beneath the swinging blade. Then it crashed into the carriage’s wall, shrieking through the metal like it was toilet paper. Even Alicin was forced to fling herself out of the way, snarling a curse.
Anargrin moved, sprinting across the seat tops to gain room, any room from his opponents, allowing him to manage a glimpse of Jelcine’s situation. She was fighting both Julen and the blond vampire, who now wielded a short sword. She barely kept them at bay as they harassed her with hit-and-run tactics.
He saw what they were doing, wearing her down—as much as Jelcine liked to think it, not even she could keep swinging that huge ax forever—or just pissing her off so she’d make a mistake. He could hear her constant cursing and knew they were succeeding in that endeavor.
Anargrin heard another roar and turned to see the gray-haired vampire tearing out another seat. Alicin stood beside him, smiling smugly. The seats were at least two meters in length and must’ve weighed well over one hundred kilograms. The bastard ripped them from the floor with unbelievable ease.
The vampire then lifted it over his head and let it fly.
Anargrin dropped to the floor, watching the seat fly like a missile over him, and couldn’t help wincing as he heard the massive crashing of it smashing into others farther down the carriage.
In the blink of an eye, Anargrin was on his feet, just in time to see Alicin and the other vampire charge at him over the seat tops.
Anargrin clenched his teeth and sprinted to the side, knowing he couldn’t fight them head-on, making it just out of the way of Alicin’s slashing saber. The gray-haired vampire descended on him, cutting out his greatsword with a deafening roar.
Anargrin ducked it and dashed forward, slashing for the male vampire’s knee joint.
The vampire had no time to react, but Alicin parried Anargrin’s sword off course. He weaved under her follow-on and was forced to lunge left, out of the way of the male’s substantial downward blow.
Anargrin cursed beneath his breath. They were well versed in fighting together.
“You’re good,” said Alicin as she licked her full, red lips. “I’ll give you that.”
“Yeah,” gasped Anargrin, “tell me something I don’t know.”
“He’s an arrogant little elf, isn’t he?” said the male, his voice deep and throaty. “I’m looking forward to cutting him down to size.”
The male barked out a laugh.
Alicin rolled her eyes and sighed, echoing Anargrin’s feelings on the terrible pun.
Anargrin tried to catch his breath and took the time to glance at Jelcine, seeing she was still fighting.
“That was terrible, Gerit,” said Alicin.
“I thought it was good,” said Gerit.
“It wasn’t,” said Alicin. “Anyway, I want him alive. I like him.”
“You like—”
Anargrin didn’t let him finish his sentence. He charged. He needed to get this done quickly.
Gerit threw himself back a millisecond with surprising speed before Anargrin’s slash connected with his leg.
Laughing, Alicin launched forward as she hacked overhead at Anargrin. He sidestepped and chopped back, causing her to parry it away desperately.
In the next second, Gerit was on him. His powerful front kick would’ve broken every bone in Anargrin’s body if he hadn’t slipped away.
The vampire followed with a deceptively fast upward slash that Anargrin jumped back from, causing him to land on top of one of the seats. He barely made it as the large sword burst straight through the back of the chair, the tip missing Anargrin’s nose by a hair.
Alicin was suddenly on his side, striking her sword at his skull.
Anargrin lunged back, landing on a seat back. Usually, he would’ve landed without any hint of losing balance, but now he barely kept himself from falling.
He leapt back again, trying to get a bit more distance from his attackers. He landed on another seat top a few meters back as the two grinning vampires descended on him.
Anargrin clenched his jaw. At this rate, he couldn’t win. If he were fighting one-on-one against either of them, he would’ve won already, but together, they worked in harmonious accord.
Someone or something had trained them well.
He could win in one way. It was desperate but better than nothing.
Anargrin blinked again. He wasn’t even sure if it’d been long enough since the last one. Thank goodness it was.
All his calculations were instinctual, almost instantaneous as he reappeared in midair, right behind Gerit as he was in midstride. Anargrin knew he didn’t have the strength for a clean decapitation, so he did the next-best thing and stabbed his sword straight into the back of Gerit’s knee. While the vampire felt no pain, the effect was still devastating as the momentum of Anargrin’s fall drove the vampire down, face-first against a seat top, snapping back the vampire’s head so hard it broke his neck. Blood sprayed out of his broken nose, and his teeth flew in every direction.
The horrific cracking and crunching was almost deafening. Any other being would’ve died instantly, but Anargrin could hear the vampire groaning. It didn’t matter if he was alive or not. Gerit was now completely paralyzed.
Anargrin allowed himself a slight smile.
“No,” he heard Alicin gasp, and she came to a stop and spun to face him, her pretty face contorted with rage. “You bastard.”
“No,” said Anargrin, “I’m not. I wasn’t born out of wedlock.”
She let out a high-pitched wail and came at him, saber swinging wildly.
Then she did something Anargrin didn’t expect: she feinted into a thrust for his heart. A saber was a curved, single-edged sword built mostly for slashing, the one she wielded especially.
It also seemed an exceptionally calculated attack for someone so angry.
Eyes wide, teeth clenched, Anargrin desperately stepped to the side. The thrust missed his heart, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid it entirely as the edge skimmed across the side of his ribs.
Anargrin let out a cry as the agony bloomed through his torso and blood sprayed. With his free hand, he clutched at it.
Despite the pain, instinct drove him onward and slashing out at Alicin in a wild attempt to prevent her from following on, like a cat. She bounded out of the way.
“I never understood why the Valandri vampires still insist on creating you Hunters,” said Alicin. “You’re weaker than us, can take less shit than us—inferior in almost every way.” Then she licked the blood off her blade. “But I will say this. Your blood is just utterly delicious.”
He was too busy struggling for breath, but he could think of various arguments to her statement. We can walk in the sunlight without bursting into flames was just one of many answers Anargrin could think up.
“Just give up,” said Alicin. “Join with us. I know you Hunters cannot be sired, but if you join us, you will have the time of your life—that I guarantee.”
“What . . . about . . . what I did to your friend?” Anargrin managed.
Alicin smiled, glanced over her shoulder at the immobilized Gerit, and shrugged. “Didn’t care much for him, anyway,” she said. “You taking him out proves you’re good enough.”
Anargrin laughed. “Typical rogue vampire. Fuck off.”
“Aw!” said Alicin. “I was looking forward to playing with you.”
Anargrin pursed his lips, shrugged, and pointed at Alicin’s leg. “I was too.”
Alicin raised her eyebrows, bemused. Then Jelcine blinked into existence behind her, and the Hunter’s huge ax cut clean through the vampire’s left leg. Alicin collapsed onto her side, and the vampire’s mouth gaped in shock.
Jelcine, gasping for breath and bleeding from numerous small wounds, smiled at Anargrin and turned to face the two remaining vampires as they ran across the seat backs toward her.
“Nice work,” said Anargrin. “We’ve got one alive and able to talk. Now the other two are expendable.”
“You bastard,” screamed Alicin as she writhed on the floor. “You cheating fucks.”
“You only wanted me to spare her ’cause she’s fucking hot,” said Jelcine as she readied her ax.
Anargrin just shrugged. He wasn’t going to deny it.
Anargrin was sure it’d take a while for him to find a woman quite like her ever again. He sighed, wondering once more what it was that got Raleas so damned pissed.
Then, with savage snarls, the vampires were on them.
Anargrin ducked the tall vampire’s slash as Jelcine parried the blond’s short sword.
Anargrin slipped behind the tall vampire, and as his forward momentum carried him farther on, he slashed into the back of his neck. It wasn’t a clean decapitation, but it was just enough to sever the spine, sending the vampire writhing and crashing into the seats with such force Anargrin could hear his bones crunching into a paste.
The blond vampire saw this as he dodged Jelcine’s counter and, with fear plain on his face, turned to gap it, but Jelcine’s hand shot out and snatched him by the ankle. Then she proceeded to smash him into the floor, the seats, and the walls. Over and over again, each impact caused Anargrin to flinch and wince in sympathy.
“I think that’s enough,” Anargrin said.
She didn’t listen, just continued.
“Jelcine, I think he’s out of the way,” he said.
“He. Hurt. Emilia,” she roared.
“Yes, but we were attacking their train. We’re their enemies. Now, come on. Now you’re just wasting time.”
Jelcine hesitantly dropped the broken vampire with a growl. “Alright, fine. Behind you, by the way.”
“I know,” said Anargrin as he stepped out of the way of Alicin’s slash just as it descended at his back. He pivoted around and cut off her remaining leg and then kicked her to the floor as she was in midcollapse, causing the vampire to scream more obscenities.
“You seriously think I wouldn’t hear someone with one leg trying to sneak up on me?”
Jelcine shrugged. “Well with the train noise, I was just trying to help. Well not all of us are perfect. Okay?”
Anargrin sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You know I’m far from perfect, Jelcine. Can you check on Emilia, please? The poor girl may be back in human form.”
“You forget she’s far from being a girl now,” said Jelcine.
“Yeah, I know. Sometimes I forget,” he said. Werewolves were said to be the product of an elven mage’s curse placed upon the humans who’d attacked and overrun their city during the holy war so long ago. The mage used a type of magic they didn’t know of yet. The bite of a werewolf could only turn other humans, but human Hunters were immune too. A werewolf’s life span far exceeded that of a normal human, the equivalent of an elf’s around five hundred. Emilia was bitten when she was seventeen, so even now, she still looked that age, and acted it in some cases.
“I’m sorry, but I think it’s a priority to check whether she’s bleeding to death rather than if I remember that.”
Jelcine started and was immediately moving.
Anargrin sighed and quickly checked his wound. The blood had already clotted thanks to his enhanced metabolism—still hurt like shit though.
Much to both Anargrin’s and Jelcine’s relief, Emilia was still alive and was going to live. In werewolf form, she had ejected the bullets from her body, as they lay next to her unconscious form, crushed and covered in blood.
Jelcine lifted Emilia and placed her over her shoulder. Then they moved on. The destruction they’d caused with their fight was incredible. Many of the train seats were now scattered, and shattered in some cases.
They were both exhausted. They’d just fought through eight large carriages, all with at least a
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