Read Krymzyn (The Journals of Krymzyn Book 1) for Free Online Page A

man twists away. With a sudden lunge, he plunges the tip of his weapon into the muscular, white chest. A wail of agony tears through the hills while black blood gushes from the wound.
    A woman leaps from behind the hill, trails of neon green behind her head and a steel point leading her soar. Rays of light burst around the shaft as her spear rams through the creature’s skull. The vile specter collapses to the ground.
    “Are there more?” Sash screams at them.
    “Only this one!” the man yells back.
    “Stay here,” Sash says calmly, her eyes returning to mine. “You’re safe now.”
    I’m scared, shocked, fascinated . . . a barrage of emotions race through me. I don’t feel any physical effects from the seizure I know I’m in the middle of back on Earth, but I honestly can’t assess my feelings at being here. Except one overwhelming reaction—I’m finally amazed.
    Sash charges through the rain towards the tree. Branches split the air around her as she sails off the ground. I sit up to watch, instantly hypnotized by her spectacular acrobatics.
    A limb sweeps harmlessly below her feet. With the long spear grasped tightly in both her hands, she blocks another branch at the apex of her leap. She lands, tucks into a roll under one more swinging limb, and finally launches off the grass to the trunk. Flexed arms of wood whip inward but have to stop as cracking sounds fill the meadow. Sash kneels safely by the base of the tree, the branches unable to reach her.
    She pops a hand behind her head, snatches one of the short spikes from the pack on her back, and forcefully stabs it into the tree. Twisting the metal point deep inside the bark, she locks the three-foot-long spike into the trunk. In a flurry of motion, Sash stabs and twists again and again until all seven metallic stakes are anchored into the wood. Minutes pass while she protects the spikes from the limbs overhead, amber ferocity constantly burning in her eyes.
    A hint of orange pares the edges of the clouds, and the rainfall thins. The limbs of the tree slowly reach outward, some up to the sky, others drooping to the ground with their tips digging into the turf. The swirling clouds slow until idle masses of dark gray return. Once the rain stops falling and it’s fully light, the tree remains perfectly still.
    Sash slowly removes one stake from the bark, twists the steel tip, and slips it into the cylinder on her back. She gently leans her face to the trunk, resting her forehead on the exact spot the spike punctured the tree. Both of her hands reach outward and she presses her palms to the bark. As seconds pass, she stands in reverence to the tree.
    One by one, she removes the spikes. Each time she does, she repeats the moment of silence with her hands and forehead pressed to the bark. When the last metal stake is returned to her pack, Sash crosses the meadow to me.
    She’s grown taller—maybe five foot six now—slender and toned. Her face is my age with no lines or blemishes on her smooth, pale skin. Her fiery amber eyes, infinite black pupils, and rich burgundy lips look ageless and wise, like she’s seventeen and twenty-seven and ninety-seven.
    I try to stand but wince from a twinge of pain in my back. Crouching on my knees, I glance at my arms. Water may bead and run off me in Krymzyn, but my blood still scabs and stains my skin. I finally rise to my feet with a grimace.
    “I’m sorry if the tree injured you,” Sash says when she reaches me. “For your own safety, never be in reach of the branches.”
    “Thank you for helping me,” I say. “I really appreciate it. You’re a lot stronger than you look.”
    Talk about an understatement. I’m in absolute awe of the speed, strength, and agility I just witnessed from Sash. It was more astounding than any special effects in a movie I’ve seen or any character in a video game I’ve played.
    “I’m honored to provide aid to a visitor of Krymzyn,” she humbly replies.
    The man and woman who killed