Kings: Chaos Book 5.5 by Claire Farrell

until Alyss shot another arrow that the first giant roared and ran toward them. Three of the other giants followed.
    “Now it’s time to run,” Aneurin called out, sprinting off.
    They ran for an hour, weaving through a damaged field and coming out onto a sandy area, the pounding of the giant’s footsteps never letting up. But the sounds appeared to diminish. Brendan looked behind him.
    “Only one left,” he called out, but if he wasn’t mistaken, the giant was catching up. His group had tired, but the giant hadn’t grown winded yet.
    “Yes,” Aneurin replied. “But this one is focused on catching us. Even if it broke its leg, it would still follow.”
    But the steps ended abruptly, and Brendan let out a sigh of relief, his lungs fit to burst. And that was when the first stone flew through the air.
    “Don’t run in a straight line,” Aneurin called out. “Don’t make yourself an easy target!”
    They raced on, farther onto the sand, until they could see the beach in the distance. The ship was out there. Brendan was sure he caught a glimpse of her. The giant slowed on the sand, and Brendan’s heart rate eased a little, but the second rock hit Alyss in the legs.
    She collapsed into the sand, her leg crushed under the weight, and her face pale.
    “Keep running!” Aneurin shouted.
    “I can’t leave her,” Brendan said. “I can’t let him take her.”
    “He’s in a frenzy,” Aneurin argued. “You won’t win in a fight against him, no matter what name you give your sword.”
    Brendan stood over Alyss with the sword unsheathed, and the giant man stopped looking for rocks to throw. The creature ran at them, heading straight for Brendan. One of Bran’s daggers flew through the air and struck the creature right in the eye. The fir bolg howled with pain and tried to grip the dagger, spinning in a circle in his attempt to catch something so small with his over-sized hands.
    “Quickly,” Brendan said. “Help me get this rock off her.”
    The others, including Aneurin , gathered to push the rock off Alyss . Sweat beads ran down her face.
    “That was a great throw,” Brendan told Bran who grinned then shoved harder at the rock.
    The stone finally moved, and Alyss was free, but her leg was broken. It was obvious to everyone.
    “Just leave me,” she wept. “I’m the one who woke them.”
    “I’ll carry you,” Brendan insisted.
    “Wait, look!” Bran cried.
    The giant had gotten frustrated with the dagger. He dug his fingers into his eye socket instead, yanking free his own eyeball in the process. He screamed with rage and flung the eye away, blood pouring from his empty socket. He came at them again, this time ferocious in his pain. His flabby stomach shook as he ran, and Brendan resisted a natural urge to run. But then he glanced at his injured soldier, and a rage burned through him, too. They had come too far to fail now.
    Brendan stood his ground, the sword of victory gleaming in the incessant sunlight. The fir bolg was filthy, his massive dirt-encrusted hands holding an axe that he waved in the air as he ran. His arms were thick with muscle, and Brendan could feel the earth shake with every footstep, but still, he held his ground. His own battle rage came over him, the one that made it hard to focus on anything but his prey. He couldn’t allow himself to be hunted. His blood burned to fight back.
    “Get her out of here,” he ordered Aneurin . “The others will help you. I’ll hold this creature off as long as I can. Get them to the ship.”
    But Bran refused to leave his side.
    “Bran, leave,” Brendan commanded. “Cara will bring me back from the dead and kill me again if I let anything happen to you.”
    Bran gave him a steady look. “I’m your bodyguard. This is my place.”
    There was no time to argue. The fir bolg had reached them. He struck out with his axe, but Brendan met the strike with the sword. The metal clanged, but the sword of victory gleamed brighter, and the axe broke.