Through gathering evening, Annja ran.

Not so much for fear of her own life. To her own surprise she felt little concern for that. Rather, for her mission. The thought that her mentor might have labored half a millennium to find the sword, and to find a new champion, only to have his labors made futile by such men as these made her blood boil.

( Sadly, Being Shot At Was Something She Would Have To Start Getting Used To )

On long tanned legs Annja Creed ran through the hardwood forest. Rays from the sun hanging precariously above the great mountains slanted like pale gold lances at random between the boles. They caressed her sweaty face like velvet gloves as she ran through them ( Read more... )

It started with an early morning phone call on Tuesday from Roux telling her about a manuscript that he was pretty sure would lead people to an artifact that they had no right having access to. He also stressed how much damage could be done by these people if they -- in other words she -- didn't get to it before they did ( Read more... )

Annja was walking through the park when her cell phone started ringing. Rolling her eyes at the Caller ID, she flipped it open ( Read more... )