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Eagle En Garde - ebook View larger

Eagle En Garde - ebook

The fanatical sect of Cleaners is on the rampage against magic, but one swordsman stands in their way. Magic has never had a smarter protector.

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    The kingdom of Talaria is surrounded by a magic-resistant spell. While the king wishes to invite magic back into the country, the fanatical sect of Cleaners is determined to prevent its return. Darin, a mercenary officer, doesn’t participate in the dispute, until he accidentally overhears the Cleaners’ hidden agenda to destroy all magic workers in Talaria, including witches and elves, including assassinating the royal family. Darin can’t allow their treachery to succeed—it would plunge the country into dogmatism and war—but what can a lone mercenary do against a horde of traitors? His only choice lies in trickery and deceit to outsmart his enemies.


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    Eagle En Garde - ebook

    Eagle En Garde - ebook

    The fanatical sect of Cleaners is on the rampage against magic, but one swordsman stands in their way. Magic has never had a smarter protector.



    He gripped the staff tighter, his heart starting its customary high song before a battle. He knew he didn’t look the part of a fierce warrior. He was too lean and not overly tall. Looks could deceive. He would show these bullies a professional fighter. He would break every bone in their stupid bodies. Even crippled and without his sword, he was better than they were. The stiffness at his side fell away. The frightened buzz of the women behind his back dispersed. All his senses sharpened, focusing on the enemies. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed both male elves beside him and commanded in a steely tone, born of five years of lieutenancy, “Give me room for a swing.”

    They sprang apart, just in time for the Cleaners to rush them.

    Darin’s staff came alive in his hands, his damaged body obeying him at last, and the few groans that escaped his clamped lips drowned in the screams of the unfortunate attackers. He didn’t feel sorry for the fanatics. Unlike many of Serpent’s soldiers, these white-clad bigots brought it on themselves. They wanted to harm the innocent. They deserved to be punished. And he liked the idea of being the punisher, of installing justice in the land. Fool, his inner voice whispered. Conceited fool. He disregarded it.

    The dark beam of his weapon swished through the air, connecting every time, breaking skin and bone. The clubs dropped from numbed fingers. After half a dozen young toughs fell gasping and wailing, the rest retreated, bloody and beaten but mad with the unfulfilled religious zeal. They dragged their disarmed comrades and sputtered obscenities at the victorious elves. Several clubs littered the dust between the booths.

    Darin stopped moving, only breathed heavily. Despite the vengeful throbbing in his side, his gaze never wavered. He followed every motion in the midst of the defeated enemy. Would they go quietly? He doubted it.

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