The Knights Templar
an excerpt

The Hunter caught him.
A lance of fire erupted from the palm of the Hunter’s hand, racing towards the soldier, but the soldier jumped and rolled to the side, drawing his gun. He picked himself up, shaking off desert sand, and went into an aiming stance.
“Don’t move!” he said.
The Hunter stopped, but the soldier could see he was smiling.
His eyes darted around the barren landscape, but he saw no one.
Which was bad.
The other Hunter blew up from the desert hardpan, a hand twisting its way toward his legs, but the soldier jumped back, pointing his gun at the hand, and fired.
The hand contorted in agony and retreated back under the ground as another lance of fire swept towards the soldier, but he stepped away again and fired at the Hunter. The bullet slammed into an invisible wall of air, deflecting the bullet but not stopping it. The bullet cleaved on, missing the Hunter by inches.
The earth around the soldier groaned, soil cracking and bending into spires stabbing at the air. But such magic was too slow. The soldier vaulted over the rising spires of earth and dodged another lance rippling at him, so narrowly the searing heat of concentrated fire bit into him like all the cold night winds.
The soldier ran, feet pounding on the hard packed earth, then one of his legs sunk suddenly into the ground and would not budge. One of the Hunter’s traps, and he had fallen right into it.
He struggled, but he could not get himself free, and he chanced a look back. The Hunters now stood next to each other, but they kept their distance. They knew he was still dangerous.
A lance of fire snaked toward him from the Hunter’s hand.