The Avant Champion ~Honor~: The Avant Champion, #2

By CB Samet

Civil war rages to the south, threatening the stability of the continent.

 

Abigail Cross is plucked from the peaceful life she built as a university teacher after her role as the Avant Champion at the Battle of Marrin Beach five years ago. Queen Rebekah recruits Abigail to help the southern giants with their internal strife and return a captured leader to his people.

 

Abigail enlists the help of her husband and healer Joshua Colt, lieutenant Coco DeFay of the Queen's guard, and close friend Baird Fox. As the team travels through the southern marsh, a simple rescue plan transforms into a harrowing adventure. Danger and betrayal lurk in the darkness.

 

Abigail discovers that more than her honor as the Avant Champion is at stake as she tries to cut through the web of destruction and deceit threatening to bring her to ruin.

 

This exciting sequel to the 2nd place EVVY award-winning epic fantasy adventure, The Avant Champion: Rising, will thrill readers with new adventure, new characters, and new challenges.

***

 

"This book was great and I loved the strong female lead character." --Goodreads Reviewer

 

"I like this storyline filled with action-packed scenes and challenges with quite bit of suspense and tender moments as the story begins to unfurl with twist that grips the reader." -- Booksprout Reviewer

• Language: English
• Publisher: CB Samet
• Release date: Dec 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386723752

Book preview

1

Coco DeFay strode into my classroom in full royal armor. Her boots echoed on the tiled floor. With each step, the sheath of her sword clinked against her metal belt. The silver breast shield she wore glinted from the sunlight streaming through the classroom window. Her long blond hair was pulled back, exposing radiant bronze skin.

The students fell quiet, like wide-eyed statues in their seats. They seemed to be holding their breath as they waited to see what would transpire from the sudden intrusion of the Queen’s guard into my classroom.

Guards didn’t trespass on the university grounds...ever. And Coco DeFay was not making a social call.

Coco, I greeted her.

I believed technically she held the title Lieutenant DeFay, but she interrupted my students’ education without invitation and obviously at the behest of the Queen—who might have had the decency to forewarn me or come herself. I felt disinclined to pay formal respects under the circumstances.

She stopped a few feet from my table. The only sound in the room was the bubbling of my chemistry experiment. I had been demonstrating copper sulfate’s change from pale blue to white when dehydrated with heat. Blue water appeared in the glass test tube as it collected the condensing vapors.

Professor Cross, she greeted me formally.

Judging by her stiff posture and stoic face, I guessed her polite speech represented a demonstration of her superior maturity. As I held the title of associate professor, she elevated my status.

We had fought side by side five years ago; she should have called me by my name, Abbey.

The Queen requests an audience.

Naturally. There could be no other reason for Coco’s presence.

My class ends in fifteen minutes.

As my chemistry demonstration overheated and disintegrated during Coco’s distraction, finishing class was pointless, but I resisted on principle. I didn’t want to let my students see me cower before the Queen’s guard nor be at Queen Rebekah’s beck and call at a moment’s notice. (On occasion I have been accused of defiance and setting a poor example.)

Besides, the Queen wasn’t summoning Assistant Professor Cross; she summoned the Avant Champion. I still held the title of the defender of the kingdom, but my obligations had been fulfilled, or so I had hoped.

Coco drew her sword casually and held it a few inches from my chest. She looked at me with a challenging stare. Her long, slender blade stretched in a shimmer of silver.

I arched an eyebrow, annoyed by her threat.

The muscles in her arm tensed as she made a motion to lunge toward me. I side-stepped her attack and reached into an unseen shelf in my demonstration table. I withdrew my Ballik blade and swatted aside her next blow.

Although my role as the Avant Champion had been inactive for the last five years, two things had been made clear to me after I defeated evil. First, the Queen forewarned me she would ask future favors due to the nature of my gifts. Secondly, occasionally the bravest warriors from across the continents would seek a name for themselves by attempting to defeat the Avant Champion. Thus, I kept a sword in my lecture hall, at my university office, and at home.

I didn’t expect such an attack from Lieutenant DeFay.

She struck again, and I parried. The metallic shriek of our swords echoed in the lecture hall. The students remained in their seats, looks of amazed fascination filling their expressions.

Well, class attendance is certain to improve after this.

Coco unleashed more blows, methodical and fluid. She had substantially improved her skill since that moonlit night near the shores of Marrin Beach.

So had I.

I continued to block, waiting for her to quit the absurd swordplay.

Coco had several inches of height on me, most of which resided in her long legs. This occurred to me a few seconds too late as she lashed out one of those long legs. Her heeled boot struck my left ribs, and I stumbled back a few steps as a whoosh of air escaped my lungs.

I cleared my throat, shaking off the pain.

A smirk marked the first sign of emotion Coco had showed since making her grand entrance.

She came at me again, leading with her sword. My patience for her game evaporated like the crystallized copper sulfate beneath the burner on my table. The luxury of being a Star Traveler, with the ability to transport myself anywhere under the stars, was I could fight dirty.

I vanished and appeared behind Coco, watching her stumble through the unrestrained momentum she had gathered. The motion probably represented the first ungraceful move she had made in her entire life. Under the circumstances, I might have gleaned some satisfaction in causing the awkward motion.

I shifted again, this time appearing before her with my sword to her throat. My other hand latched on to her weapon-wielding wrist.

She stilled, and I stood close enough to see her pupils dilate.

Class dismissed, I growled.

Cheers and applause erupted from the students.

I glanced sidelong at them, but I didn’t give Coco a centimeter of space.

A wolfish grin spread across her face. Good, Abigail the Bold. You have kept up your training.

I narrowed my eyes at her.

She looked down at the silver necklace I wore. You didn’t use the stone?

"I use the Warrior Stone against real threats."

She chuckled and the tension in her body deflated.

I took a step back from her, but remained alert to her every move.

The truth spoken harshly. You are indeed Abigail Cross.

My turn to smirk.

Turning back, I noticed the audience still gawked. Dismissed, I reiterated.

At last the students moved, standing and making their way down the steps and out the door. As they departed, murmurs of excitement trailed behind them.

All that show was to test me? I asked, more than a little incredulous since I thought we were friends.

She straightened her spine and stuck out her chin. If I’m going to go on a Queen’s quest with you, I need to know you’re the warrior we all remember you to be.

If anything, I was more of a warrior than I had been during the battle five years ago, when I had but a few sparring practices in preparation. Now I had substantial training. I had trained with my husband for the first year after the battle against Malos. Since then I trained with a good friend and Gunthi monk, Baird Fox—a man with as many names as he had talents.

A quest? I asked.

Afraid?

No. I scowled at her. It sounds time-consuming, and I’m mid-quarter in classes.

She kept silent.

Must be important if the Queen is sending her first lieutenant, I commented. I slipped my sword back in its hiding place in my table.

Coco frowned. I believe its importance is validated by her enlistment of the Avant Champion.

Okay, so she needs a heavy fighter. Why? Turning to my ruined experiment, I switched off the burner and waved at the smell of rotten eggs.

That is for her to divulge.

Very well. I sighed, loud enough to be heard at the gates of the castle.

The guards’ chariot awaits in front of the university.

---

I let Coco lead the way through the university halls. At the thought of being in the company of the Queen, I reflexively brushed at my maroon cotton dress to remove any dust and straightened it. I wasn’t clothed for court, but offending the elite was hardly something over which I would lose sleep.

We walked through the long corridors, past other lecture halls, and across the campus square. Students milling about on the grass and stone tables stopped their conversation to stare at the pair of us walking.

We reached the main university entrance, where a carriage rested. Four black horses stood at attention harnessed to the carriage. Their shoed hooves clicked against the gray cobblestone as they shifted their weight impatiently.

Hmm...four.

Two would have been sufficient for a casual stroll from Marrington Castle to Oxville University. Four horses conveyed an urgent trip. I spotted the frothing sweat beneath their girth straps, confirming my suspicions.

What could be so urgent? Malos, prince of darkness and evil—I am not being melodramatic since he is comprised of the evil leached from mankind over a thousand years—was not scheduled to make his next debut for, at the very least, several hundred years.

I touched the carriage and Coco and transported us all to the castle courtyard.

I had no idea the critical mass beyond which star traveling was no longer feasible. Horses and a carriage were close to the largest I had transported. For the last five years, I had mostly transported myself to work and back home since I lived a five-days’ ride from the university. I had also taken Joshua and supplies to Misty Isle to visit my mom, her husband, and my half-brother. Oh, and I took monthly trips to Mulan to bring Andonius coconut milk. Needless to say, I wasn’t moving mountains with my ability, so I didn’t know if I could.

I remained cognizant that I wouldn’t want whatever I transported to crush someone as we appeared. Fortunately, I could perceive a vague outline of where I traveled—like a smeared watercolor painting—enabling me to avoid transposing the matter I relocated onto the matter existing at my desired location.

Residents, coachmen, and other carriage-bound horses startled at our sudden appearance. The driver of the carriage uttered a surprised curse and worked to steady his animals.

Coco pretended to be unperturbed by the abrupt relocation, but I noticed a shudder as I followed her into the castle. I might have warned her of the discombobulating effects of first time travel, but my annoyance at her seemed to have displaced my manners.

Coco escorted me deep within the castle walls. How does it work? The Traveler’s Star?

I glanced up at her. I envision where I want to go and the star takes me. I can only go where I have been before, where I can see, or if I’m transporting someone with me, where they have been and envision us going.

And you can take people and objects?

Yes.

Only with skin contact?

I considered her question. No. I thought how to explain the proximity of objects. For example, if I’m astride my horse while wearing pants, I can still transport myself and my horse. Or, during the carriage transport just now, I had the option to take the carriage—which I touched—or the carriage connected by inanimate harnesses to the horses and then also the horses. Dense matter connected to other dense matter. When I activate the star, I can sense the different boundaries of objects and sort of cast a net around them.

She nodded pensively. What if someone touches you as you are transporting? Are they sucked into travel with you?

I honestly don’t know. It hasn’t happened.

We walked on, the sound of her boots snapping on the stone floor.

And no time passes when you travel?

Perhaps a second or two. I don’t stop time or have any control over time. I can only control destination and select the objects to accompany me.

And this is made possible by a blue tattoo?

I shrugged. If you have questions about the magic behind the marker, you’ll have to ask the Blue Gypsies.

I rubbed briefly at the blue tattoo on my palm, which allowed me to transport. It had been given to me at Winter Festival many years ago, and I only learned of its power five years ago when I met someone else with the star, Baird Fox.

Last year, the blue fortune-teller who had given me the star camped at Meredith’s Winter Festival, where I celebrated the season with my husband and in-laws. I had eagerly approached his blue tent and waited in line for an audience with him. In his azure room, I noticed the same blue tablecloth and sparkling curtains. He wore the same blue attire and blue eye shadow. Unlike the last time I had visited him, I was no longer a university student, and I wasn’t drunk on moon juice.

Abigail Cross, he said, again knowing my name although I’d never given it to him.

I gave a polite bow. What may I call you?

I am Blue.

I chuckled. Naturally.

You wish your fortune?

I had a dozen questions, none of which included my future. I never had the chance to thank you for the gift of the star. I held up my palm briefly.

He narrowed his eyes at the blue tattoo. Was it a gift or a curse?

I considered carefully. Such power had put me in some precarious situations but ultimately enabled me to defeat an evil force much more skilled and powerful than I. In addition, I had saved my life and my husband’s life by transporting to healing springs.

Gift, I replied.

Excellent. He beamed, seemingly pleased to hear it though I wondered if—as a fortune-teller—he would have already seen how useful it had been.

I proceeded to ask other questions about the star, which he obligingly answered. He dug through an old faded blue leather trunk and produced a rolled piece of parchment paper. He handed the withered scroll to me:

The origin of the Traveler’s Star is not well understood or documented. The Blue gypsies from Bellos have the ability to gift someone with the Traveler’s Star though they themselves do not possess the ability to perform spontaneous travel or bequeath the star unto themselves.

The Blue gypsies are a peculiar group and do not openly share information about whom they deem worthy of a star or how they make their determination. There may exist some limit to the number of stars they can distribute, for this administration has known only one Star Traveler in the last fifty years.

In Bellos, the king has been known to keep a Blue gypsy in his employment. Rumors abound they may be capable of fortune-telling. Such a gift may explain how they decide to whom they will bestow a star. There is no record of the stars ever being distributed in barter or for financial gain.

---

Tazo Pine

Minister of travel to Queen Rebekah the First

Year 6033

Blue explained to me his race originated from Bellos and some were gifted with the sight of future later in life.

A gift or a curse? I asked.

He gave me a strained smile. Both for most. He sipped warmed rice milk. It is hard to be wrong when I can see how to affect the future.

When he saw my puzzled expression, he continued, I give you the star tattoo, and you live. I withhold it, and you die.

I swallowed. I appreciate your decision.

You think you do. In death you would never know love, but you would know peace. In life you know love, but also pain and loss.

Peace with death? Was that scientifically known or superstitious speculation?

I hesitated before continuing. "I began transporting before I knew about the star’s ability. I encountered Malos face-to-face before I ever understood my full role as the Avant Champion.

I waited, trying to discern my question buried in my statement.

Blue nodded slowly. You and Malos are connected through the Unideit.

My jaw twitched.

Are connected? Not were connected?

Perhaps he had simply chosen the wrong verb.

We are connected through the universal power that links all matter?

What did that mean? This time I hadn’t been drinking moon juice before my visit with the fortune-teller. Even sober I felt baffled by his words.

Not to worry, I had assured myself. Malos remained locked back in his volcanic tomb where I’d left him.

2

Within the castle walls, the same gray stone and blue and silver tapestry from my brief service to the Queen surrounded Coco and me. We entered a massive meeting chamber—the deliberation room—where the Queen and her advisors mediated talks between agreeing and opposing parties.

The Queen sat at the end of the room, flanked by her ministers. Those presenting their grievances faced the Queen with their backs to the rest of the room. As one group’s issues were resolved, the next group walked down the aisle for their audience with the Queen. A never- ending assembly line of complaints.

Having to sit and mediate these meetings would be my idea of purgatory.

Coco and I took a seat. And waited. And waited.

Horse thieves had invaded Aithos and stolen five mares. Two Gunthi monks aided in their retrieval. Several dock owners from Waterton disputed land and beach rights. Trade with Bellos rose and so would import taxes.

I tuned out the bickering. Clearly an urgency existed to the matter that took me out of my classroom to sit and do little more than listen to my stomach growl. My eyes roamed the expansive room with the high wooden arches and massive windows along the east wall. The seats were filled with a variety of ethnicities from across the continent. I stared at the walls as my mind drifted to my upcoming chemistry lecture.

Queen Rebekah, this matter is beyond the purview of our responsibility. A man in his forties, dressed in the Queen’s minister attire of navy blue, spoke in a raised voice. Other civilizations may well see our meddling in this matter as an overextension of our power. Such activity can lead us into continental strife.

I stopped thinking about chemical formulas and started paying attention to the debate.

A large, scantily clad creature with bronzed skin sat hunched in a chair two sizes too small for him. He was Hunju by all appearances, a warrior species from the southern half of Crithos, our continent. Since they were known more for brute force than for brains, this one’s presence at a debate piqued my curiosity.

My Queen, our lands are at war, the Hunju’s deep voice boomed. Our ruler is exiled. We need your help to diffuse this situation and reinstate order. His voice carried through the room and echoed off the wooden walls. He went on to describe acts of violence and upheaval. It all sounded barbaric, but then again, the Hunju were reportedly barbarians.

The Queen appeared unmoved by his plea. When he had finished, she raised a hand in my direction. Allow the Avant Champion to come forth.

I stood but immediately realized my long, flowing hair and plain dress didn’t convey my status as champion. In lieu of proper attire—which I would have worn had she given me notice—I set my Warrior Stone aglow. The red stone rested encased in the silver necklace I wore, ensuring it stayed on me at all times. A red blaze radiated from my chest. Murmurs echoed amongst the onlookers, suggesting I had proven my identity.

When I reached midpoint between the two verbally dueling parties, I bowed to the Queen. As it had been several years since I had seen her and we had an audience, I performed a full, subjugated bow. There had been a time nearer the battle against Malos when the most I could muster was an acknowledging bob of my head.

Her face remained impassive, as though I were nothing more than a floral arrangement the housekeeping staff had brought indoors. While I knew this exemplified her public flat face, I still felt disappointment to see not a speck of relief or gratitude that I had come at her request.

Must she always appear so impartial?

Welcome, Champion.

Queen Rebekah the Fourth looked exactly as I remembered—great beehive of gray hair and a large billowing gown. Her pale makeup masked the softer skin and the lines that lay beneath.

I turned from side to side to better see the two men who presented their grievances to the Queen. The slender man with high cheekbones and delicate mustache probably represented one of her ministers—minister of foreign affairs, I guessed. Politics and current events were about as much fun as being stranded on the volcano island of Mulan.

To my right sat the Hunju giant—all inappropriate mounds of skin exposure, looking uncomfortable in the small seat.

With recognition came a burning fury in my chest.

Windish!

I hadn’t met many Hunjus, but I would never forget one who tried to kill me...and on my wedding day no less.

I scowled at him as he pretended to ignore me.

The Avant Champion has accepted the task of helping the Hunju, the Queen announced.

My jaw dropped, which didn’t seem to faze her in the least.

She looked at the Hunju. Does this satisfy your request for assistance in the matter, Mr. Windish?

Yes, my Queen. He lowered his head.

She continued, And, Minister Tarik, does this abate your concern about the government’s over-involvement in the matter?

Aye, my Queen.

I waited for her to ask me if I felt satisfied with the proposition, knowing she would not. Your Majesty—

Thank you all, she added dismissively. Windish left the room as Minister Tarik took a seat among other ministers.

Two new subjects came forward to have their concerns on another issue addressed. I stood immobile, waiting expectantly and growing more disgruntled as she refused to acknowledge me.

I stood in silent outrage, torn between not wanting to appear disobedient and insolent and wanting to demand to know why I should be conscripted to help the beast who tried to ruin my wedding.

A gentle, aged hand appeared on my forearm. I turned my angry gaze to the man. Aman, the Queen’s Counsel, peered at me with soft eyes within his wrinkled brown face. His sympathetic aura dissolved my anger. With a pleasant gesture, he led me out of the deliberation room.

Reluctantly, I followed him down hallways and into a small, unoccupied lounge adorned with large chairs and a petite table. We sat across from each other.

He tugged on the bell to summon service.

You are well? I inquired, restraining myself from wanting to grill him with the one hundred important questions roaring in my head since my impromptu assignment for a quest.

He smiled warmly as though I had been invited for a leisurely cup of tea rather than conscripted to rescue the leader of the Hunju. Yes, thank you.

I stared at the blue tapestry adorned with a silver horse that decorated the wall behind him.

I felt the seconds tick by, trying to gauge what amount of time seemed appropriate to allow to pass so as not to appear hasty. My husband, Joshua, had reminded me on several occasions my manners could be improved. It seemed I vacillated between contemplative silence and gruff confrontation. Apparently, an array of more appropriate interactions existed that spanned between those.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, I spoke. I was not aware my appearance today would convey consent to a quest. I merely came to hear her request.

In fact, I recalled quite clearly a discussion I had with the Queen where she granted me right of refusal to any task she may ask of me.

The mission is to bring back the exiled ruler of the Hunju, Lord Eustace.

I nodded. That much I had understood.

Sounds too simple, I commented cheekily.

My last quest had begun with the task of getting the Queen to safety. We had nothing more to do than flee the castle as Malos and his forces invaded. That mission morphed into me becoming the Champion to save the kingdom. Never again would I be so naive as to believe a quest could be a simple task.

A servant knocked, entered, and distributed cups of warm tea.

Thank you, Leonard, I said.

The aged senior servant I had once taken orders from nodded and left. His appearance reminded me of how vastly different my life now was compared