{"id":162745,"date":"2022-03-17T14:10:31","date_gmt":"2022-03-17T03:10:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/?p=162745"},"modified":"2022-03-17T14:10:32","modified_gmt":"2022-03-17T03:10:32","slug":"read-an-extract-from-midnight-horizon-the-new-star-wars-high-republic-novel","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/2022\/03\/17\/read-an-extract-from-midnight-horizon-the-new-star-wars-high-republic-novel\/","title":{"rendered":"Read an extract from Midnight Horizon \u2014 the new Star Wars: High Republic novel!"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"Star<\/a><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

It’s time for another thrilling adventure in the Star Wars: High Republic series! Written by YA author Daniel Jos\u00e9 Older, Midnight Horizon<\/a><\/strong> follows Jedi Masters Cohmac Vitus and Kantam Sy, along with Padawans Reath Silas and Ram Jomaram, as they lead the Jedi to a stunning victory over the vicious Nihil … or disaster.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Read an extract below!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n

Star Wars: The High Republic<\/strong>
Midnight Horizon<\/em><\/strong><\/h4>\n

PROLOGUE<\/strong><\/p>\n

Coronet City<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going in,\u201d Prybolt said.<\/p>\n

Ovarto shook his woolly horned head. \u201cClient said not to go in.\u201d<\/p>\n

The hounds growled and scanned the empty street, sniffing with those huge nostrils. One of them, Serenata, pulled toward the door, yanking Prybolt forward a step. The others seemed to grumble amongst themselves, then followed. The building was one of those weird cylinder-shaped ones that seemed to pop up out of nowhere like mushrooms all around the Syllain District and then disappear just as quickly. This one had been painted bright orange (ugly), had strange metal markings on it (creepy), had no windows (bad), and as far as Prybolt could tell, had only the one door, which Minister Nomar Tralmat\u2014Coronet Father of Finances, the man Prybolt and Ovarto were pledged to protect\u2014had entered exactly twenty-two minutes earlier, with various insistences that they not follow or check on him under any circumstances.<\/p>\n\n\n

He had sworn he knew what he was doing, that he was safe, that he just needed them for security to and from the meeting, not during. And no, he wouldn\u2019t tell them what the meeting was about, or who was there; he\u2019d already been explicit about the need for secrecy when he hired them. It was probably some coordination for the upcoming Finance Ball\u2014an annual performance of unvarnished excess that marked the beginning of open-market trading. Didn\u2019t matter, really\u2014and Prybolt knew better than to ask too many questions. But still, to keep someone safe, a bodyguard shouldn\u2019t be kept totally in the dark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nomar Tralmat was a human, and humans, in Prybolt\u2019s experience, were notoriously reckless when it came to getting themselves murdered or horrifically mangled or exposed to ghastly diseases. They just couldn\u2019t be relied on to follow even the most basic precautions; all they did was throw themselves in front of blaster fire or into massive explosions or off cliffs, and no matter how obviously deadly the situation was, it was still the bodyguard\u2019s fault if they died.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCrash says sometimes the client doesn\u2019t know what\u2019s good for them,\u201d Prybolt said, \u201cso we have to know instead.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, well\u201d\u2014Ovarto lit a death stick, even though you weren\u2019t supposed to smoke on the job, and sighed some smoke up into the night\u2014\u201csometimes even Crash is wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was obviously not true, and it was clear Ovarto didn\u2019t believe it, either. Crash, who was Prybolt\u2019s best friend and ran Supreme Coronet City Diplomat Protection, was no exception to the \u201chumans are reckless\u201d rule; in fact she was the chief example of it. The difference was, she also somehow excelled at not dying and making sure no one around her did, either. And no one could think of a time she\u2019d been wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hounds snorfled loudly against the door. They were large, imposing creatures, all white with hunched torsos and beady, malicious eyes squinting out from round protrusions on their skulls. Squirming tendrils dangled from their jaws. All in all, the hounds gave the impression that they could tear someone to shreds without much bother. This was in part because they absolutely could and would. But they\u2019d also been bred to look that way\u2014a handy trick that ensured they didn\u2019t have to actually shred anyone most of the time; people just kept their distance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Prybolt loved the hounds with all his heart. They were the truest friends he had besides Crash, and they always knew when something on a job was off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like right now, for instance. The hounds, still at the door, seemed to confer for a moment, and then they all craned their necks and released an eerie keening noise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Prybolt appraised the building again. \u201cOkay, yeah, I\u2019m not the only one that doesn\u2019t like it. And to be precise, I hate it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Other things Prybolt hated at that moment:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014The way his voice sounded like it was pleading<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014The way his long, Grindalid body felt squished into his ridiculous protective suit, every muscle on each of his many arms burning with complaints about the long night they\u2019d had<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014How, between the rows of towering buildings around them, another Corellian dawn teased the edge of the dark horizon<\/p>\n\n\n\n

These types of shenanigans were exactly why his family had pleaded with him not to go into this line of work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLet the humans and their other sun-loving friends devour and destroy each other,\u201d Mother Fastidima had begged in the cool darkness of their underground nesting pool. \u201cYour place is here, away from all that. A whole underground empire awaits you. You don\u2019t need to scrunch up your body into those silly fabrics. You don\u2019t need to live in fear of disintegration in that cruel Corellian sun, my sweet pupalette.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But Prybolt had known what he wanted, and it wasn\u2019t to spend his life hiding in the shadows with his hundreds of other nest sibs. \u201cI\u2019m not a pupa anymore,\u201d he\u2019d said, sound- ing, he knew, very young and ridiculous. \u201cAnd anyway, you just don\u2019t want me to be in danger all the time because if I die you\u2019ll have to avenge me and that might upset the delicate political balance you\u2019re always going on about!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\u2019d spat out the words with a ferocity he hadn\u2019t real- ized he felt, and they\u2019d found their mark\u2014Mother Fastidima reared back like she\u2019d been hit. \u201cThat\u2019s!\u201d she gasped. \u201cThat\u2019s!\u201d Water slopped down her chin tendrils and splashed into the pool below as she stammered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But she couldn\u2019t quite deny it, because it wasn\u2019t entirely false.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Garavult Clan had protected the underground water systems of Corellia for centuries, and their legacy was one of both honor and vengeance. To strike down a Garavult Grindalid meant incurring the wrath of all seven hundred and forty-eight Garavults, which is exactly why it almost never happened. That blood oath outweighed any of the petty politics of the time, and Prybolt knew it as well as Mother Fastidima did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But that wasn\u2019t all there was to it. His nest mother also wanted him close because she loved him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Prybolt had sighed, already out of the dark water and heading for the tunnel that led to the surface. Sometimes winning hurt more than losing. \u201cI just want to see more of the city I live in than the sewers and tunnels. And I want to protect people. I\u2019m good at it!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And he was\u2014even Crash had admitted it, and Crash rarely gave compliments. He\u2019d already mastered moving in the protective suit, and he easily grasped the intricate and delicate art of becoming one with a crowd while staying close to a client on the move. He understood violence, the chaos and suddenness of it. Weapons posed no problem\u2014every Grindalid came up studying a variety of defense techniques with different staffs, blades, and blasters. The hounds, of course, adored him, so training and working with them was no problem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And, most important, he knew when to trust his gut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And right now, as the night ever so gently gave way to dawn around them, Prybolt\u2019s gut was telling him something very wrong was happening on the other side of that door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m going in,\u201d he said again, and this time he meant it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ovarto shrugged, flicking away his death stick. \u201cYour funeral.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBeeta, Serenata, Sibak. At ready.\u201d The hounds obedi- ently stopped their investigation and stood on either side of Prybolt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He touched the control panel by the door. It slid open to reveal . . . another door. A muffled beeping went off some- where inside: alarms. Prybolt hit the touch sensor on the second door, and that one rumbled to the side with a rusty groan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Several figures moved through the dim room within. What light there was came from the center, where Nomar Tralmat was on his knees, nose bloodied, face desperate. Above him stood a tall woman with red skin and the long folded ears of an Er\u2019Kit poking out from either side of a strange gas mask. She had a blaster rifle slung over her shoulder; the fierce bayonet on the top glinted in the flickering lantern light. And she looked like she was winding up for another hit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Get between the threat and the client.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

That was all there was, all that mattered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Prybolt launched forward with a single command to the hounds: \u201cEat.\u201d The woman raised her rifle just like Prybolt hoped she would\u2014because that meant it wasn\u2019t aimed at Tralmat. Prybolt pivoted to the side, adjusting his stride to accommodate the shift in balance, as blaster fire roared out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAyeeee!\u201d Ovarto yelled from the doorway, and then all two meters and one hundred kilograms of him crashed noisily to the ground. One of the hounds squealed and fell\u2014 Beeta, maybe. The others sprang forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before either Prybolt or the remaining hounds could reach her, the woman threw something at the floor and it burst with a flash. Sibak and Serenata squealed, and a foul yellow smoke billowed into the room, covering it almost instantly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But there was only the client and the threat, the client and the threat. Or, probably several threats, but that woman was the most important one. Some smoke wouldn\u2019t stop Prybolt. It couldn\u2019t get through his breathing apparatus and coverall suit anyway. He crossed the floor in three bounds and hurled himself toward where Tralmat had been just a moment before, shivering on the ground. He felt an arm, a shoulder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome on!\u201d Prybolt yelled, pulling the man to his feet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sudden, searing pain tore through Prybolt\u2019s thorax just as the woman\u2019s gas-masked face appeared in the mist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That bayonet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He sidestepped the next swipe, the huge blade swishing through the yellow cloud where he\u2019d just been, then spun forward, allowing his own momentum to power a devastating uppercut. It connected with the woman\u2019s mask, sent her spinning back into the fog.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Up ahead, a doorway slid open to what looked like a small antechamber lit by the breaking day. This building was full of secrets! There\u2019d been no sign of another entrance on the outside. Didn\u2019t matter. It was a small blessing, and Prybolt would take full advantage of it. He hefted Tralmat, who was coughing and sputtering, onto his shoulder and made for the light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Turned out the doorway had opened to let in reinforce- ments, but Prybolt was counting on that. Two more masked raiders hurried in only to get hit with Prybolt\u2019s blaster bolts. He ran past their squirming bodies and out into the street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He let Tralmat down gently\u2014the man seemed mostly okay besides the bloody nose and coughing from whatever that chemical was\u2014and started pulling him along. \u201cYou have to come with me,\u201d Prybolt said. \u201cQuickly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tralmat looked around, wide-eyed. \u201cCome on!\u201d Prybolt urged. Any second, someone was going to burst out of the misty darkness, blaster bolts first more than likely. \u201cWe have to go . . . now<\/em>!\u201d Why was Prybolt so out of breath? He hadn\u2019t exerted himself that much, and the gas shouldn\u2019t be affecting him with . . . the suit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He glanced down, already pulling Tralmat into an awkward, stumbling run. The woman\u2019s bayonet had torn a serious gash in his protective suit, scraping his carapace. But it wasn\u2019t the wound or the gas that was sapping his energy so suddenly; it was the sun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe have to . . . we have to go,\u201d Prybolt wheezed, still clutching Tralmat\u2019s arm. \u201cI can\u2019t . . .\u201d It was the client; it was only the client. All there was was the client. But if Prybolt didn\u2019t make it, no one would be left to protect Tralmat. \u201cI need . . . shade . . . darkness . . . something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A sharp, crackling burn erupted along his left flank as the day grew brighter and a gentle morning breeze pushed the torn fabric of his suit aside. \u201cCome on,\u201d he moaned. \u201cCome this . . . this way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But when he looked back, Tralmat was gone, probably snatched by one of those raiders, and the masked woman was walking calmly out of the mist toward Prybolt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cClient,\u201d Prybolt grunted, as if that would somehow make Tralmat reappear on the street beside him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stumbled around a corner, his gloved fingers wres- tling the comlink out of its belt holster.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCrash,\u201d he muttered into it, hoping he\u2019d hit the transmit button. \u201cCrash . . . Crash!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She would know what to do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome in, Crash . . . I . . .\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Er\u2019Kit woman was probably already behind him; she had to be, raising that rifle for the shot that would end him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Prybolt pulled out his own blaster and spun around, firing wildly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The street was empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The sun kept rising.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCrash!\u201d He pushed forward. Somewhere, there would be an open door, an entrance to the tunnel system that was his true home, the darkness that would embrace him, protect him. Then he could heal and go find his client. He could make this right still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCrash, it\u2019s Prybolt. I . . . I messed up. There\u2019s . . .\u201d What were those attackers? They all wore the telltale gas masks of the Nihil, but there was no way the Nihil were on Corellia\u2014 that was an Outer Rim problem. They were reckless, sure, but not fools. They\u2019d never risk coming this deep into the Core of the Republic, the heart of the galaxy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It had to be imitators, or a cartel of some kind trying to cover its tracks by pretending to be Nihil. That was it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNihil,\u201d Prybolt rasped into the comm. \u201cDressed like Nihil. Gas masks, and gas . . . but . . . I don\u2019t think . . .\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Didn\u2019t matter. They\u2019d figure it out. Crash could figure out any problem, so she\u2019d work out this one. Prybolt just had to stay alive to help her do it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He rounded another corner at a stumble and ran straight into the red woman in the gas mask. She leapt back, too fast to track or attack, then her rifle seemed to come dancing out of the sky toward him as she lunged forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All he could do was fall backward, but he wasn\u2019t fast enough; the blade shredded the whole front of his suit wide open, and then the ground rushed up behind him and he slammed down so hard all the air left his many lungs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

None of that mattered nearly as much as the sizzling that screamed through his whole torso, though. All his smaller appendages were probably wriggling as they burned. Daylight\u2014that bright, blinding poison\u2014poured through everything, flooded over him and sent frantic searing warnings all through his nervous system.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve always wanted to see this happen,\u201d the Er\u2019Kit woman said with what sounded like delight in her voice. She stood over him with one booted leg on either side, and if he\u2019d had any strength left, he would have happily kicked her, blasted her, anything <\/em>to get that smirk he was sure she was making off her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But none of his body parts were responding the way Prybolt wanted them to, and almost everything was made out of bright, unrelenting light, and then light became the world, and then there was nothing at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014Midnight Horizon<\/a><\/em> by Daniel Jos\u00e9 Older (Hardie Grant Children’s Publishing) is out now.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":12,"featured_media":162774,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":""},"categories":[34],"tags":[14576,10594,1910,14577,7434,4986,12516,6644,12709],"acf":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/03\/SWHRMidnightHorizon-Social.png","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/162745"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/12"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=162745"}],"version-history":[{"count":33,"href":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/162745\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":162797,"href":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/162745\/revisions\/162797"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/162774"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=162745"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=162745"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.booktopia.com.au\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=162745"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}