The Hunters of Ravenport

By Erik Christensen

She had one simple job...

...how did it fall apart so fast?

In the northern wilderness, Rachel has one task: spy on the enemy camp and report back. Why are they so far from civilization? What are they planning? And what are those mysterious booming noises echoing through the mountains? For someone with her skills, it should be easy to find out.

Until she’s captured, that is.

To gain her freedom, she must promise the impossible. And to deliver, she needs to team up with the only people more antisocial than she is. Who are these strange hunters, and why have they chosen her? And more importantly, how can she lead them in a struggle against the most dangerous group of people on Esper?

You’ll love this story because everyone loves a struggle against long odds.

Grab your copy now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erik Christensen
• Release date: May 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463223819

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© 2019 Erik Christensen

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author, except as permitted by copyright law. For permissions contact:

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mother, Donna. Without her influence, this book simply would not exist. Since my first copy of The Hobbit, she has introduced me to more fantasy and science fiction authors than I can remember, including Ursula K. LeGuin, Anne McCaffery, Stephen R. Donaldson, Spider Robinson, Robert Heinlein, and so many more.

I know from personal experience that it can be tempting to mold your child’s tastes after your own, but my mother refused to do that. Although her offerings were decidedly focused on two genres, she encouraged me to read anything I cared to, whether it was fiction or not. And if I didn’t enjoy something, she didn’t treat it as a failing on my part. Nor did she consider it necessary for her to like everything I read.

That said, everything I read and write is scrutinized with the same question: what would Mom think of this? If this book gets an approving nod, I’ll be more than satisfied.

Author’s Note

Dear Reader,

This book is intended to be read after its predecessor, The Skyrider of Renegade Point, the second book in the William Whitehall Adventures series. While it stands on its own story-wise, there is plenty of background information in the earlier books that adds to this one. If you haven’t read Skyrider yet, you can find it at your favorite ebook retailer.

While related to the series, it is not a numbered book in the series, because it does not feature William Whitehall himself. Instead, it is written from the perspective of Rachel Malen, one of William’s close friends and allies. I, as well as many of my readers, thought she was fascinating enough to warrant a story of her own. This is the result.

I also wrote a collection of short stories that take place between book one, The Defender of Rebels Falls, and Skyrider, called The Smuggler’s of Tighpool. Again, it is not strictly necessary to read these before Skyrider, but I think it will add to your enjoyment. Smugglers is available to those who join my readers group.

Like the other books in this series, this book is neither pure science fiction nor unadulterated fantasy. It’s an adventure tale that combines elements of both those genres. Most of all, I’ve tried to instill as much excitement into the story as possible.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Happy Reading!

Erik Christensen

A Quick Message

The Hunters of Ravenport is part of the William Whitehall Series. While this novella stands on its own, you may prefer to start with the first book of the series, The Defender of Rebel Falls. It’s available on most retail sites, or can be obtained for free from the author’s website. Join the adventure now!

Chapter One

Rachel Malen steadied herself as the pounding surf rocked the boat. She could barely detect the nearby beach in the darkness, and the constant lurching disrupted her focus. Still, she didn’t like what she saw. No dock here? she asked.

The rower grunted as he pulled the oars. This is Hattenstock, lady. Nothing but trees and bears for miles. The captain said you wanted—

I know what I said, snapped Rachel. The unceasing rise and fall of the water agitated her. I’ve been cooped up in a cabin for two weeks. You can’t blame me for wanting something easier than a pre-dawn beach landing.

If you’ve changed your mind, you can still sail to Ravenport. It’s only a couple of hours away. With a fair wind, we might even drop anchor before daybreak.

She gazed north along the coast to where the town lay. She was sorely tempted, despite the added battering the sea would give her. No, she said after a moment. I can’t risk it.

Suit yourself. I’ll be snug in my bunk all the sooner for it.

She gave him a sharp look. You’re sure the crew won’t say a word?

He shrugged, an awkward gesture to attempt while rowing. Who would they tell? And what would they say? That someone sailed with us, but never stepped outside their cabin? The captain and I were the only ones who saw your face, and I don’t even know your name. The rower slowed, and the waves pushed the boat until the bottom scraped against the pebble beach. Need a hand getting out? he asked.

She ignored his hand as she scrambled over the side, and reached back in to grab her heavy pack. She shivered as the frigid water leaked into her boots. Damn, that’s cold.

As I said before, this is Hattenstock. You’re in the North now.

I’ll try to remember, she said as she reached for her bow and quiver.

The captain says we can’t wait more than two weeks. I suggest you get here a day or two early if you want a ride back. We’ll be moored at Ravenport taking on cargo until then.

Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll do my best. Please thank the captain again for me.

He nodded and tipped his hat. Always happy to accept the duke’s silver. Fair winds to you.

A smile tugged at the side of her mouth at the ancient maritime salutation. And following seas to you.

The stony beach was rough and unwelcoming, but at least it didn’t move. Two weeks at sea had done her stomach little good, but now her feet throbbed with cold, and she didn’t dare light a fire. She considered unrolling her blanket, knowing she would be toasty warm in minutes, but she pushed the thought aside. Time was more precious than warmth right now. She pushed her way into the dense woods that lined the beach, casting a quick glance at the star-filled sky to get her bearings. Ravenport lay almost due north along the coast, but she wanted to push west first, and arrive inland from the town itself.

There were no trails to speak of, and no clearings, just trees of various sizes packed together, and a thick underbrush seemingly designed to both trip and scratch her. After two weeks of inactivity, the hard work delighted her, and soon even her feet were warm. But the breath condensing with every exhalation reminded her she couldn’t stop, or else the sweat would quickly chill her.

Progress was slow, and she kept her eye on the sky, marking the Kite’s position against the moon, and accounting for Ravenport’s longitude. Only one hour remained until dawn. She doubled her efforts, ignoring the pain as she scraped through bushes and ducked under branches. A machete would have come in handy, but she couldn’t risk the extra noise—crashing through the vegetation was loud enough.

A patch of indigo appeared, a break within the blacker forest canopy. Moments later she reached the edge of the forest and gazed out onto a wide clearing. A packed dirt road stretched in either direction. To her right, the road sloped down toward the town silhouetted against the sea, a few windows glinting with early morning candlelight. To her left, the road climbed into the mountain wilderness.

She set up camp behind a fallen tree, high enough to command a view of both the road and the town. She grinned at her handiwork. Jack, her long-time boyfriend, would have argued about where to camp, insisting on sturdier shelter and a ready supply of water. Not that he would have been wrong, but she didn’t have that luxury. Secrecy trumped comfort, at least on this mission. And though she missed him, she preferred deciding for herself.

The sun rose just as she got settled. Still unwilling to risk a fire, she pulled her cloak close and wrapped her bedroll blanket over it, another blanket underneath her to ward off the cold of the frozen ground. Too little sunlight penetrated the dense forest to warm her, but at least it improved her view.

Ravenport wasn’t much of a town, she decided, and the view didn’t improve when she used the telescope she’d been given a few weeks before. A couple of piers for ships, several docks for fishing boats, a street with shops, and houses scattered along the slope facing the sea. Home for a few dozen families at most, but still it acted as the main port for Esper’s poorest dukedom.

She reached into her pack for an apple, then decided against it. The food had to last, and she might not get the chance to hunt or forage anytime soon. Late spring this far north would offer few foraging options anyway.

As the sun rose, a ship sailed into view. She recognized it immediately: Fiona’s Pride, a cutter out of Faywater Bay, one of the fastest merchant ships in the kingdom. Duke Vincent had secured passage for her, ensuring secrecy with