80AD - The Hammer of Thor (Book 2) by Aiki Flinthart

80AD

  The Hammer of Thor

  by Aiki Flinthart

  Copyright Aiki Flinthart 2011

  Discover other titles by Aiki Flinthart at: https://aikiflinthart.weebly.com/

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  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Epilogue

  A Taste of things to come. 80AD Book Three

  80AD Level Two

  The Hammer of Thor.

  LONG BAIYU

  Curled in shadow and huddled against pain, Long Baiyu waited. Where once he had waited in fear; without hope or strength; now he had hope, at least. Hope that his meagre efforts had been rewarded; hope that deliverance was on its way; hope that the reign of terror and power held by his nemesis would soon be over.

  Sometimes, however, a little hope can be almost as painful as none at all.

  The door to his cell flew open, crashing against grey stone. Silhouetted there was the man Baiyu least wished to see: his captor; his enemy; his oldest friend, Feng Zhudai. Raising a heavy head, Baiyu blinked in the feeble candlelight. His gaoler knew better than to bring anything brighter.

  “What do you want?” Baiyu’s voice was hoarse from lack of use; his throat dry; lips cracked with cold.

  For several moments Zhudai simply stood in the doorway, his face hidden in shadow. Candlelight gleamed off rich gold embroidery on his silken robes. The sound of his harsh breathing echoed in the cold stone chamber. Finally, he took a hasty step into the room and lifted the candle. His skin was taut with anger, cheeks hollow, dark eyes fiery with glittering intelligence and barely-hidden rage.

  “What have you done?” Anger snapped through his voice, lashing at his prisoner.

  Baiyu flinched, blinked again but said nothing. Zhudai made a noise of frustration and stepped closer. Hope surged in Baiyu. He gathered his strength. Did he have enough to defeat his enemy and escape? Only let him come a few paces nearer. Even if he died trying, it would be better than this endless imprisonment. Death would ensure the end of his captor’s plans. Zhudai needed him alive.

  That flicker of hope must have shown in his eyes. His keeper stopped and glared at him before backing away again.

  “Oh no, old friend,” he said more calmly, “you won’t trick me that easily. I have just come to tell you that your little scheme will not work.”

  “What scheme is that?” Baiyu tried hard to sound indifferent but disappointment tightened his throat.

  “I felt your pitiful attempt at magic,” Zhudai sneered. “Felt it and tracked it down. You tried to draw help from another realm but you failed. They have been destroyed. You are still my prisoner and you will not escape. In time, you will be the instrument of my success – whether you agree or not.”

  Baiyu fought his own internal battle. His long incarceration had drained much from him. It was too easy to believe his last strength had failed and the help he had sought was not coming. The dark hole of despair beckoned.

  No. A small part of him fought back.

  He had felt their success.

  His masters’ words returned to him: he who speaks, does not know; he who knows, does not speak. If Zhudai had killed them then he would not have bothered to ask what Baiyu had done; would not have been so enraged. No, they lived.

  Realising this, Baiyu was tempted to gloat; to throw the logic back in his blood brother’s face but that would be stupid. He who knows, does not speak... Let Zhudai think he had broken his prisoner at last. Let him become careless in his arrogance. Perhaps that would allow the rescuers he had drawn into this world a chance to succeed again.