He twisted and turned, slashing with his sword at any hound that dared to get too close, keeping them at bay only through the sheer ferocity of his attack. The bodies began to pile up at his feet and still they came on, bounding over the corpses of their brethren to try to reach him.

When the press of their numbers became too great, he had no choice but to retreat backward, out into the water. He kept his back to the ocean, his attention fixed on the ravenous horde that now covered the beach as far as he could see. He held his sword up before him like a talisman, waiting to taste the salty tang of his enemy’s blood once more.

But the hounds refused to follow.

They wandered back and forth at the water’s edge, howling in voices that ripped and pulled at his soul, but they would not enter the water. The edge of the surf became a barrier that they would not or could not pass and their frustration was clearly evident.

Cade was just wondering what the dark waters might hide, what would keep the blood-thirsty pack from daring their depths when a pair of hands wrapped around his ankles and pulled him off his feet.

He went under, spluttering in surprise and swallowing a mouthful of water in the process. Before he could do anything he felt himself being pulled through the water at an incredible speed, moving deeper out to sea with every second.

He frantically began to kick his feet and twist his frame, doing what he could to fight his way free, knowing he had only seconds before his lack of oxygen would doom him.

The second he felt the hands on his feet let go he shot for the surface, sucking in great whooping lungfuls of air once his head had broken clear of the water. He glanced around frantically, noting that he’d been dragged dozens of yards from shore. His sword was gone and the hounds still paced the shoreline in the distance, but he didn’t have any choice; he’d have to swim for it and deal with each issue one and a time. Remaining in the water was out of the question.