The Onyx Vial (Shadows of The Nine Book 1) Read Online Free

so dense, even if he could run through them, the men would be on him—and the girls—in seconds. That left only one option.
    He didn’t like it.
    But if these men were truly like the ones he'd encountered earlier, and the Commander did recognize him, they would’ve tried to kill him already. Maybe he'd been mistaken for someone else. Maybe it was worth the risk. Even if it wasn’t, keeping the girls from harm was.
    He would just have to channel the bravery and authority of the boy he was in his dreams, and hope he could be convincing enough.
    He took a breath and stepped away from the boulder.
    Ariana spewed whispered curses at him—" gorse it, you flaming blocker "—as he forced each foot in front of the other.
    “I expected more fight from you,” the Commander sneered, his high cheekbones intruding on his narrow eyes.
    Hunter kept his chin high, his back straight. He marched purposefully toward them. As he came closer he could see that the man had a severe widow’s peak, his hairline dead parallel to his angular brows. Combined with his thick neck, he looked more panther than human. Dark and menacing.
    The Commander’s sneer slid off his face. “Who are you?”
    Hunter halted, surprised. The trees swayed above him, pulling a faint, salty sea smell into the air. “You don’t know?” he asked, feigning bored condescension and hoping his confusion didn't show through.
    The wind blew harder, an ethereal scream of air squeezing through the timber. Rain thrashed the tops of the trees.
    The Commander lowered the bag and aimed the palm of his free hand at Hunter’s chest. “Your disguise is good. Up close.”
    “What disguise?” Hunter asked, keeping his voice even. The mass of dark horses and riders loomed to his right, pressing in on the open space of the road.
    The air felt thinner.
    Breathe. Think. Focus. You can survive this. You just need a way out.
    The only obvious escape was to the left, if he could call it one. He’d be run down in a heartbeat.
    “He’s an impostor, Commander,” one of the men growled.
    The woods on the other side of the path were thick, but not as dense. Perfect for running. If he could get past the Commander—a substantial "if"—he could lose them there, he was sure of it.
    “Real or fake, it makes no difference,” argued another.
    “Indeed,” the Commander drawled. “For the murder of a royal family member, or for impersonating the son of the king. Either way, the boy will die.”
    Wait. What?
    Before Hunter could replay the conversation he’d only half been listening to, the Commander’s fingers spread wide. From the center of his massive palm a spark, then a tiny flame—as blue as a summer sky—erupted and bloomed to his fingertips.
    Hunter stood frozen, his eyes locked on the flame. He’d have been safer staring down the barrel of a gun.
    “ Run , you raving prag!” Ariana’s strained voice shattered his trance.
    The flame surged toward Hunter’s face. In that instant he heard a whoosh , followed by a deafening roar.
    Something ice cold slammed him on the head.
    He staggered in shock, blinking water out of his eyes.
    Water. He was drenched, his eyes stinging. A salty taste seeped into his mouth as the rain hammered on him. It was as if the sea had been diverted into the clouds.
    Blinded by the downpour, h e wiped at his face. But it didn’t help. So he cupped a hand to his forehead and peered at the Commander, who was distracted by the rain. His grip on the bag had gone slack.
    Hunter lunged, threading his arm through the strap, his momentum stripping the bag from the Commander’s hand.
    He launched himself into the trees, adrenaline coursing through his body as he wove between the timber. Sharp, slimy bark scraped the skin off his wrists and hands when he slung himself around the trunks. Flashbacks of the attack at his home goaded him forward. Never breaking pace, he sought out the natural paths between the trees and sprinted down them.
    Two escapes in as