The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) by Brad Magnarella (best business books of all time txt) 📕

I checked to ensure my robe was secure around me before stepping from the trees and toward the palace. I moved quickly and quietly, keeping track of the wargs as I went. There were at least two dozen of them patrolling the large plain. Every so often, one would stop and raise a ragged muzzle before resuming its patrol.

Realizing I was on a collision course with one of the wargs, I crouched, retreated several steps, and held still. The approaching patrol was the size of a small rhino, its hair dark and bristly. Harsh breaths huffed from its wet muzzle.

When it got to within twenty feet of me, the creature stopped and raised its head. I stiffened. A jelly-like substance dripped from the warg’s face. Bald patches showed over its coat, where the same substance appeared to have corroded through. The warg’s face waxed toward me, toadstools ringing its glowing eyes like blackheads. Could it sense me?

I tightened my grip on my sword, debating whether or not to strike before the warg could send up an alarm. With a final snuff, the warg lowered his head again and resumed patrolling.

Exhaling, I set my sights on a staircase that climbed to a wall surrounding the palace complex. I had considered circling the hill to search for a more concealed way up, but I didn’t like how the warg had looked in my direction. And the way that stuff was eating into its face…

I grimaced and hurried my pace.

Near the staircase, I opened my wizard’s senses. The approach looked clear, but a ward protected the staircase in a field of barbed energy. I followed a path up to it. The energy blocking the staircase crackled and spit. My enhanced blade might cleave it, but without Marlow knowing? No, better to leave the ward intact and trust that the distillation of blood would fool it.

I was bracing myself to step through when something rammed into my side.

I stumbled into a backpedal from the largest warg I’d ever seen. It crouched onto its haunches, equally startled. The warg must have doubled back on its patrol.

Now, it came sniffing forward. When I stepped to one side, it pivoted toward me, a growl shaking the thick foam over its fangs. The damned thing could sense me. When I inhaled what smelled like spores, I imagined them communicating back to the toadstools and slimy fungi that covered the warg’s face, their root-like threads penetrating its canine brain, whispering to it.

I took a quick look around. Two more wargs were approaching, eyes glowing a sickly green through the darkness. I gauged the distance to the staircase—about fifteen feet away—but the large warg had cut me off. With my sword held out, I slid the staff into my belt and dug into my pockets.

Where are you?

At last my fingers encountered the golf-ball sized rocks. Coughing grenades. I pulled one out and whispered, “Attivare.” The rock tingled as the magic at its core came to life.

I turned and hurled the grenade as far from the palace as I could. With a bark, the large warg charged me. I pivoted and brought my sword around, twisting my grip so the flat of the blade caught it instead of the edge. Metal rang against the side of the warg’s head. The beast stumbled past me and ate dirt.

I backed toward the staircase as the warg recovered and wheeled. The skin over one half of its face had shorn off, revealing plates of bone.

Fifty yards away, the grenade landed, releasing a burst of human coughing. The other two wargs that had been closing in on me turned and sprinted toward the fake sound. The large warg looked over its shoulder, then back in my direction. It took two stalking steps forward.

Go, dammit. Go with the others.

The warg moved its sniffing head from side to side, as though no longer sure where I was. Maybe the result of half the fungi being wiped from its face. I switched to an underhanded grip, ready to thrust the blade up into the warg’s heart if it lunged again.

Its glowing gaze roamed all around me.

At last the creature released a snort and sprinted off to join the others.

I let out a trembling sigh and hurried past the defensive ward. A searing heat broke through me, but thanks to the blood match, my magic remained intact. I started up the steps. Very soon I realized that the palace complex wasn’t composed of black stone, but covered in black mold.

Higher and higher I climbed. On the dwindling plain below, the wargs had resumed their patrols. I didn’t slow until I reached a landing that ended at the defensive wall. My staff tugged me toward a large door that hummed with locking magic. My sword could cleave it, but would that send up an alarm?

I scanned the rampart high above. I couldn’t see anyone—or anything—patrolling its length. The dome of protective energy that extended over the palace looked to be identical to the ward at the base of the hill. It would let me through.

Judging the wall to be about twenty feet high, I took several steps back, sword aimed down. With a running start, I whispered, “Forza dura!”

The energy from the sword erupted against the landing and launched me up. As the cold air rushed past my ears, I saw that I was short. Afraid of overshooting the wall, I’d gone too soft. At the height of my parabola, I stretched out an arm and managed to catch the lip of the rampart. My body banged against the wall, but I held on, working my fingers into a slimy groove in the stonework. I threw my sword arm over and heaved myself the rest of the way onto the rampart. As I fell, I broke through the second ward in another searing wave.

I bit back a grunt and lay panting. I was alone on the