By Barb Hendee, J. C. Hendee
She hunts the realm's most deadly game.
Her charges are exorbitant.
She's worthy each coin she receives.
Or is she?
Magiere has earned a name because the such a lot bold vampire slayer within the land. Villagers in all places welcome her with either awe and disdain—grateful to her for ridding their cities of the undead threat, yet discovering themselves made poorer for his or her salvation. Magiere understands she's facing easy people, who simply desire to have their superstitions silenced, and sees not anything flawed with exploiting them for profit.
Now, uninterested in the sport, Magiere and her accomplice, the half-elf Leesil, are able to hold up their guns and calm down in a spot they could ultimately name domestic. yet their newfound peace won't last—for Magiere has come to the eye of a trio of strong and hazardous vampires who be aware of her precise identity—and worry the birthright that flows via her veins. and they're going to cease at not anything to maintain Magiere from enjoyable her future.
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Additional resources for Dhampir (Noble Dead Saga I, Book 1)
Tom, a shy but cheerful man who had appeared only the day before, right after they'd encountered Jennsen, looked to be a merchant who hauled trade goods. Hauling goods in his wagon, Kahlan and Richard had learned, gave him an excuse to travel where and when he needed as a member of a covert group whose true profession was to protect the Lord Rahl from unseen plots and threats. Speaking in a low voice, Jennsen leaned closer to Kahlan. "Vultures can tell you, from a great distance, where a kill lies—by the way they circle and gather, I mean.
Such an upbringing seemed exotic to Kahlan, who had grown up in a palace in the Midlands. She loved learning about nature from Richard, loved sharing his excitement over the wonders of the world, of life. Of course, he had long since come to be more than a woods guide. It seemed a lifetime ago when she'd first met him in those woods of his, but in fact it had only been little more than two and a half years. Now they were a long way from Richard's simple boyhood home or Kahlan's grand childhood haunts.
It seemed obvious enough to Kahlan, though, that if the races really were tracking them it would have to involve conjuring of some sort. It was the questions raised by that assumption that so worried her. " Kahlan lifted an eyebrow at the young woman. "Jennsen, we're in the middle of the Old World. " "I guess you're right," Jennsen admitted. " Despite the heat, she rubbed her arms as if a chill had just run through her. " Kahlan smiled to herself. " Jennsen watched Richard a moment as he filled the buckets with water from barrels carried in the wagon.