Nicholas McIntire [McIntire - The Hunter’s Gambit

T ABLE OF C ONTENTS

THE HUNTER'S GAMBIT

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The Archanium Codex: Book One

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NICHOLAS MCINTIRE

Copyright 2019 Nicholas McIntire

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Published by Black Dove Press, 1504 Clover Lane, Fort Worth, TX 76107

For information about bulk purchases, either in print or eBook form please contact Black Dove Press at 817 320 2886.

Manufactured in the United States of America.

First Edition

ISBN 13: 978-1-7338491-0-4

ISBN 10: 1-7338491-0-4

Ebook ISBN 13: 978-1-7338491-0-4

Ebook ISBN 10: 1-7338491-0-4

Map and Interior Illustrations by Erin Lameroux

Interior book design (print and ebook) Nicholas McIntire

Cover created by The Cover Collection

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Books by Nicholas McIntire

The Archanium Codex

The Hunters Gambit

A Wicked Wind (Forthcoming)

For my father, Michael.

Thank you for always believing in me,

even when I couldnt find a way to believe in myself.

I love you.

P ROLOGUE

Year 1020 of the Second Era

I T S NOT GOING to work.

Calm yourself, youre making me nervous. I make mistakes when Im nervous. Cassian said flatly, his fingers tracing the incessantly shifting lines of chartreuse light and black flame that hovered before him.

Richter scowled, running a hand through his flaxen hair. As though he didnt know that. As though he didnt know Cassian better than any man or woman in the Oborin Order. Or in the world, for that matter.

More can go wrong here than right. You should have studied those meridians till you went blind.

Cassian nodded absently, his attention fixed on an axis point that kept tumbling from his fingertips, If youre so particular about my equations, why didnt you shape them?

Because Im not stupid. Richter snapped. Cassian heard a long slow exhalation behind him and fought a smile.

Richter was terrified, though hed never admit it. Gods, he was terrified, but Richter was a very different sort of man. For Richter, anger buried any emotion that didnt lead to laughter, whiskey, or sex; and even then it wasnt always a sure bet.

Id just prefer to keep my mind intact, thank you. Richter grumbled after a sullen silence. I hate constructs. Too many bloody variables.

Cassian let the other man wander and talk through his nerves, offering Richter his attention sparingly, allowing himself a smile when Richter spouted that cocky bravado Cassian found so endearing.

He heard Richter cease his aimless pacing, felt Richters thick fingers press against his back, just where his heart hammered against his ribs.

Too many variables. Richter hissed. His hiss became a growl, As youre about to prove.

Cassian blushed, trying to force the other man from his mind and failing. Why are you here? he demanded instead.

Richters face darkened, bravado casually abandoned. Because I might have to kill you.

Cassian jumped, angry at himself for reacting to the statement, even though he knew it was coming. Even though it had to be said. Even though it had to be Richter.

We dont know whats going to happen, Cass. But if youre wrong.

Cassian swallowed, I know.

The sound of Richters sword clearing the scabbard ran ragged across Cassians nerves.

Well, at least youll have the best run-through of your life. Richter purred.

Lover and executioner. With Richter, those two were suddenly hard to separate.

Its going to work. Cassian murmured.

When youve banished the Kholod and we can get on with our bloody lives, let me know. Richter grunted. Now either get to it or unravel the damn thing. Much longer and itll just implode in your face. He stepped closer and brushed his hand across Cassians cheek, And Id hate to see that ruined.

Cassian ignored his Hunter and closed his eyes, allowing the construct to wrap around him.

They stood in the center of the Voralla. From this place, the Magi of old had tapped into the Apsis, where the Great Sphere of the Archanium came into direct contact with the realm of the living.

From this place, Cassian sired their salvation or destruction.

The world shifted as Cassians vision washed with the familiar swirling morass of the Archanium.

An endless combination of color, sound, and emotion tumbled around him. Every twisting ribbon represented a singular spell, those spells making up the vast and disparate regions of the Great Sphere. Cassian sifted through them until he found a small eddy of orange and fuchsia.

It coiled around him, danger and joy inextricably intertwined.

It was haunting.

Cassian quivered as he pulled the colors into their world, sending it into the constructed magic before him. The spell ignited, pushing the air from the room with a hollow boom that lifted Cassian off his feet. He floated in a fraction of time, gasping for breath, finding nothing.

He glanced at Richter.

The Hunter raised his blade towards Cassians heart in silent response. Ebony tendrils of the Hunters Mantle wound around the blades edge, licking at the air as they reached the point, flashing crimson to their root, burning sinuously up Richters powerful arms.

Cassian floated for that impossibly long moment, staring into Richters feral coyote eyes.

The world imploded, thrusting Cassian through a pinhole of reality and into the vast expanse of oblivion. There was no light, no sound.

But gods, there was pain.

Time lost meaning in the darkness, yet he felt the immediacy of his own annihilation.

A second implosion thundered through his skull.

Cassian smashed into earth. Thirsty, unyielding earth. He rolled to his side, choking on dust, gasping to fill the void in his lungs. He retched violently, blood fountaining from his mouth. The desiccated soil drank him in eagerly.

Cassian rolled onto his back, running a hand across his mouth and greedily gulping air. He slowly became aware of the Other sky, intermittently green, yellow, and black; colors mirroring his construct. His brilliant construct. How many times had Richter warned him of the dangers?

And now it seemed Richter was right.

He winced, knowing that in the mortal world there was a very sharp sword pointed at his heart. Richter was prepared to end his life should the construct become unstable, and with good reason. Such a spell could hand victory to the Kholod in an instant if Cassian made a single misstep. Anything short of perfection allowed for the possibility of failure, and the stakes were simply too high.

His people had been enslaved by the Kholodym Dominion for over a thousand years. Using occult magics, the Kholod had bound themselves to the Archanium, manipulating the Magi like grotesque puppets. And this at the cost of the Magis freedom, their