Fantasy Best Seller "Rage of Night": Chapter 1

It was a good day to die.

All around Kelgore, men were screaming and burning. Soldiers hacked away at each other under the drumming hail of steel-tipped wooden shafts, while murderous flaming orbs tore through the ranks. It was the hell of war. A war with magic.

There was no strategy, no force of arms, that could prevail against such an enemy. Once magic had been brought to bear, friend and foe alike perished before the sweeping storm of arcane energy. 

All except Kelgore.

Kelgore was a Mageslayer. He knew what to do to survive, what to look for to stay clear of the magic, and how to eliminate the threat itself. He raised his sword and charged.

He kept his shield high and plunged back into the ranks of warring men, slipping through the storm of steel, seeking his target.

Every time his blade lashed out, a man fell. Every time a weapon came his way, Kel smoothly avoided the blow, then dealt quick death to his attacker. He was more than a Blademaster, more than any assassin. He was a Mageslayer. He was the last.

He was untouchable. He felt the flow of the battle, let it suffuse him, and was one with it. He was the heart of chaos.

Another screaming ball of flaming death exploded off to the right, throwing bodies through the air like shrapnel.

Kel took note of which way the devil spell had come from. It told him he was close. Very close.

Glaring through the darkness, between the smoke and steel, he caught sight of a swirl of fabric. Kel smiled the evil smile.

Got you, he thought.

He sprang into a dead run, dismissing from his mind the battle raging all around. He dodged pairs of warriors squaring off. He jumped over bloody corpses, sidestepped errant swings, and slipped between advancing groups intent on mutual annihilation. He was focused on one thing only: crossing the distance between him and the damned Wizard as fast as possible.

With two quick strokes, Kel dispatched the last of the soldiers between him and his prey. He caught sight of his target just a few yards distant weaving another lethal incantation in a clear space, all alone; anyone too close when a spell ignited could be drawn in and obliterated by the unfolding magic.