The Storm Runner (The Storm Runner 1)

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” I said. “But…I… uh, I need to stay alive long enough to kill Ah-Puch.” I’d worry about the gods after that. If there was an after.

“You.” Jazz smirked. “A skinny kid with a…”

“Limp,” I finished his sentence.

“I was going to say lopsided head, but okay.” Jazz snapped a branch off a tree and handed it to me. I guessed it was supposed to be a walking stick. “Best leave it to the gods, kid,” he went on. “They’ve got a lot more experience with this sort of thing.”

“He is a god!” Hondo argued. “And a hell of a fighter. He can take down a demon runner in his sleep!”

I love my uncle, but he wasn’t helping my case. Jazz didn’t look convinced. “Demon runners are shadows of the gods with none of their magic or power,” the giant said. “The fact is, we don’t know enough about your brand of godborn blood—what it’s capable of, or not.” He wiped some chocolate off his chin and licked his fingers. “That was the whole reason for the Sacred Oath—to keep things balanced, orderly. Unless you’ve got some powers greater than the gods’, you need to step aside.”

“It has to be him, Jazz,” Brooks insisted, tugging off her single boot. “We… we can’t let anyone else get to Ah-Puch.”

“I hear an or else in there, Little Hawk.”

“Or else I die,” I said.

“Or else he becomes a soldier of death,” Brooks added, tossing her boot away.

“Death would be much better than that!” Jazz shrugged like he was used to hearing this sort of thing all the time. “Whatever. You want to get yourself killed? Be my guest. But don’t drag Little Hawk into this any more than you already have,” he said. Then his eye lit up as if something important had occurred to him. “So that’s it….”

“What?” I said. “What’s it?”

“Your dad,” Jazz began. “Whoever he is…” He stuck his fingers in his ears. “And don’t tell me. The less I know, the better. He wanted you to lure Ah-Puch to this place, because he knew that the gods wouldn’t look here. Not at first, anyway. He bought you time to do the deed yourself before all the heavens descend on you like vultures. Not sure if that means he likes you or hates you. I guess you could look at it either way.”

“You sure the gods won’t come here?” I asked, not sure whether that made me feel better or worse.

Jazz started down a shadowy path. “Look around, kid. No one’s been here in eons.”

Hondo’s eyes cut across the pale world. “Not exactly a dream destination,” he said. Then, “I really need to change out of these threads, but can I keep the suit?”

Jazz smirked, and I figured it was safe to ask him about the Sparkstriker then. “Lightning pounder?” he said. “Yeah, I’ve heard of her.”

“Lightning pounder?” That sounded sort of…violent.

“She strikes lightning into seers, giving them powers. She’s all women’s lib, trains girl orphans who have nowhere else to go, stuff like that. Don’t know what your old man would want with her. I mean, unless he wants her to train you, which there isn’t time for.”

“Right,” I said, feeling stupidly small. Why would Hurakan send me to an ancient lightning pounder who trains orphan girls? Last time I checked, I wasn’t an orphan or a girl. What if this lightning pounder couldn’t help me?

Jazz grunted. “Let’s get a move on, kid. You’ve got a god to kill.”

33

“Where are we going?” Brooks asked, trailing Jazz.

“Being a giant has its advantages, like being able to see things from far away.”

“What did you spot?” I asked, trying to keep up and totally failing, even with the walking stick.

“You’ll see,” Jazz said excitedly.

The air was cold and flat. Nothing slithered or breathed or stalked or flew. It was like the place had been abandoned by every living creature. Except one that had to be here: the White Sparkstriker.

“We can’t just walk aimlessly,” Hondo said after we’d trekked for what seemed like a mile through the dense jungle.

“We’re not,” Jazz said. He had to duck every so often to avoid slamming his head into a branch. “We’re going to Puksí’ikal.”

“Come again?” Hondo said.