Sacrifice
On assignment in the Philippines, archaeologist Annja Creed meets with a contact to verify some information. Easy enough. But when the man doesn't turn out to be whom he said he was, Annja finds herself handcuffed, blindfolded and kidnapped. And to make matters worse, she's a prisoner of the dreaded Abu Sayyaf, a notorious terrorist group.Desperate to escape, Annja is able to flee after slaying one of her captors. But she soon gets lost in the hostile jungle, which is rumored to be haunted by the spirits of Moro warriors who fought off conquistadors with their blades. As she tries to stay a step ahead of the terrorists and not-so-dead spirits with a taste for human flesh, Annja's not sure she'll leave the jungle alive….
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âYou think I can do this?â Annja asked.
Vic laughed. âWell, you know, youâve got a pretty strong motivational factor going for you.â
âI do?â
âYeah, if you donât hold your own, Iâll leave you behind. These woods are about to turn ugly on me as well. The people I annoyed last night will be out in force looking for yours truly. Iâm not hanging around any longer than I have to.â
âYouâd leave me behind?â Annja asked.
âIn a heartbeat, sister. Iâve got my own agenda to play to. Sorry to break your heart and all.â
Annja frowned. âYouâre not breaking my heart,â she said.
Vic smiled. âLetâs get moving.â
Annja stood and rubbed on some more mosquito repellent. Vic hefted his rifle and then stopped. âHere,â he said, holding out a small-caliber pistol. âYou know how to use one?â
Annja took the gun, dropped the magazine and racked the slide. As the bullet in the chamber spun out, she caught it in her hand. Then she topped off the magazine, rammed it home and racked the slide again.
âYeah, I think I can handle it,â she said.
Vic nodded and grinned. âYouâre not exactly a damsel in distress, are you?â
Titles in this series:
Destiny
Solomonâs Jar
The Spider Stone
The Chosen
Forbidden City
The Lost Scrolls
God of Thunder
Secret of the Slaves
Warrior Spirit
Serpentâs Kiss
Provenance
The Soul Stealer
Gabrielâs Horn
The Golden Elephant
Swordsmanâs Legacy
Polar Quest
Eternal Journey
Sacrifice
Rogue Angel>â¢
Special thanks and acknowledgment to Jon Merz for his contribution to this work.
T HE L EGEND
â¦THE ENGLISH COMMANDER TOOK JOANâS SWORD AND RAISED IT HIGH.
The broadsword, plain and unadorned, gleamed in the firelight. He put the tip against the ground and his foot at the center of the blade. The broadsword shattered, fragments falling into the mud. The crowd surged forward, peasant and soldier, and snatched the shards from the trampled mud. The commander tossed the hilt deep into the crowd.
Smoke almost obscured Joan, but she continued praying till the end, until finally the flames climbed her body and she sagged against the restraints.
Joan of Arc died that fateful day in France, but her legend and sword are rebornâ¦.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
1
The air was so thick, Annja Creed felt she could use her sword to slice it open. But doing so wouldnât affect the extreme humidity that seemed to surround her every second of the day. Even when the blistering sun didnât penetrate the thick canopy of the jungle, she could still feel the heat of its merciless rays burning down. Something as simple as taking a breath felt as if she was swallowing thick porridge.
Sheâd already resolved herself to the one simple fact about being in the jungleâshe would never be dry. Her clothes clung to her, accentuating every curve of her body. They were soaked through with sweat and the twice-daily rains that haunted her new home.
It wasnât a home she wanted to live in. But, for the moment, she had no choice.
She worked her hands behind her back, trying to relieve some of the pressure on her wrists. The handcuffs didnât help matters.
She stretched to get her hands under her, hoping sheâd eventually be able to slide them under her legs so her hands ended up in front of her rather than behind her. A stream of sweat ran down her face for her efforts.
Annja took a deep breath and sighed. How do they stand it here? she wondered. Sheâd been in the Philippines for less than a week and she still hadnât acclimated to the tropical environment.
Of course, she hadnât come here thinking she would end up as a prisoner of the dreaded Abu Sayyaf, the notorious terrorist group with links to al Qaeda. Annja was supposed to be researching a new story for Chasing Historyâs Monsters. But a contact hadnât turned out to be who he said he was. Instead, Annja found herself looking down three gun barrels, and when the small Toyota van had rolled to a stop in front of her, the wisest move was to get inside.
She smirked. If she was being totally honest with herself, part of her wanted to see where things led. She was getting used to unexpected adventures and the truth was she usually enjoyed them. She was pretty good at getting herself out of tight spots.
Her smile faded. I should have considered all the options beforehand, she thought. Before she was forced to endure a bumpy flight away from Manila, and then a riverboat ride to some desolate part of the country.
