Excerpt:THE FALL OF THE WITCH HUNTERS
Twenty years later, in a small wood near Burgh, the undergrowth creaked and snapped under the weight of the living bundle being roughly dragged towards the forest edge.
They must have caught him unawares. That was it. How else could a few puny humans overpower someone like him? There were only six of them. First-year Witch Hunters, probably; they were more expendable than the seasoned ones. He had caught one of those a couple of months ago, and they still hadn’t found a replacement. Of the legendary Thirteen Witch Hunters, only twelve were left; and if he could have it his way, he would kill a few more.
A little voice in his head whispered that he wouldn’t actually mind getting out of this alive. Dargh cursed himself for his cowardice. Such thoughts were unworthy of a shadow alp. If death awaited him, he would meet it proud and undaunted.
That’s all very well and good, said the little voice; but seeing as the Witch Hunt