Each participating realm sent a representative to the newly discovered land, where they battled to the death. The whole planet became a gladiator-type arena. But there were problems.
As more and more planets were found, more and more representatives were sent to fight. And, because scribes kept records, prospective combatants were able to learn from the mistakes of their predecessors, becoming harder to kill. The result? A single All War could last decades rather than days.
Bane’s second All War had taken thirty-three years. By the time he’d returned home, his betrothed—Princess Aveline—had been crowned queen and decided she didn’t want him anymore.
At the time, he’d been devastated. He’d loved her dearly, had missed her with every fiber of his being. Then he’d noticed the changes in her personality and rejoiced, thinking, Dodged a bullet.
If Aveline ordered another warrior to pursue Meredith during Bane’s absence...
Fury morphed into white hot rage as corrosive as acid while raw panic hollowed out his chest. Another problem: Bane used sex to control his beast, bedding Meredith twice a day. At least! If he journeyed to Terra, he would have to go weeks, years, decades without a lover. He would rather die than betray her.
“In this war, my combatant will be at a terrible disadvantage,” Aveline said, unconcerned about the brutal storm brewing inside him. “The Terran sun is brighter than most, and shines for longer periods of time. With our sensitivity to light, measures must be taken.”
“Why not fight this battle yourself?” he snapped, his blood like fuel, every cell a blazing match. “Are you too weak? Too cowardly?”
Tone brittle, she told him, “Careful. I can make you cut out your own tongue.”
“I’ll grow a new one in a matter of days.”
“Good point. I’ll cut out Meredith’s tongue instead.”
Damn her. The price was too steep.
“Judging by your shell-shocked expression, you’re done protesting.” She smirked. “My trackers discovered Terra a year ago. I portaled in a contingent of breeders, with orders to seduce the strongest, most influential males. Most wove themselves into the fabric of society seamlessly, and many are already pregnant with a Terran-Adwaewethian mongrel. Perhaps my next crop of warriors will be able to walk in sunlight without being weakened or blinded.”
He ground his molars. Mongrel, a derogatory name for an Adwaewethian hybrid. “Failure to report the discovery of a new realm is a chargeable offense, but sneaking your citizens onto it...that is a crime punishable by death.” And not just for the queen. The High Council would send an army of Enforcers to Adwaeweth with a single objective: kill everyone.
Enforcers were trained as assassins, their numbers incalculable. Both males and females, all given to the High Council as children as payment for entering an All War. Adwaeweth would be reduced to a cautionary tale.
Aveline disregarded his statement, saying, “But I digress. I do not know which breeders are carrying a royal.”
Whenever Adwaewethians procreated with another race, they created a new colony, producing a handful of princesses, who would one day have the option to become queen. If they survived the Blood Rite. If more than one princess survived, the two would battle to the death.
Bane knew what was coming next and swallowed a curse.
“When a royal is born,” Aveline said, “you will kill her, and preserve her heart.”
Yes. That. The curse escaped, along with a dozen others. When a queen ate the heart of her enemy, she strengthened exponentially...for a time. “You would have me murder an infant?”
“Aw. Does my wittle beastie have a conscience?” She dismissed the idea with another wave of her hand, as if his “sensibilities” had no bearing on the situation. “We cannot allow a princess to become a queen. The moment she does, the mongrel beasts will awaken, and the High Council will discover what we’ve done.”
“What you and your insatiable greed have done. You have placed our people—”
“My people,” she insisted.
“—in grave danger.” She had placed Meredith in grave danger. Yes, his wife could take care of herself, but he would tolerate no unnecessary risks to her well-being. He’d lost too much already. His parents, both of his brothers and his only sister.
Perhaps he should find another full-blooded Adwaewethian princess willing to challenge Aveline, and help her assume the crown. Were there others? Aveline had killed so many.
As soon as he found one, his connection to Aveline would weaken and he could form a bond with another royal. But why bother? He would be subjected to the whims of another capricious bitch just as bad as Aveline. Or worse!
When would the terrible cycle end?
“I won’t kill a child,” he grated. “Pick someone else.” Pretty words. The woman could make him do anything, and they both knew it. Although, forcing him to anything, especially war, would be unwise. Unwilling and unmotivated representatives faced a higher likelihood of defeat.
Irritation twisted her features. “You refuse to win Terra?”
“I do.”
Aveline tsked-tsked. “Never has a male been so ungrateful for the life I have granted him. I suppose you need an incentive to leave, and a better incentive to return swiftly. Very well. I’m happy to provide one. No matter what transpires, you will not transform into your beast, Bane. That’s an order.”
She snapped her fingers. To the left of the dais, a pair of double doors opened. Micah entered, dragging a chained prisoner behind him. She wore a pale blue nightgown. One Bane recognized.
A roar exploded from him, echoing throughout the chamber. Meredith! Their gazes met, fury crackling in her golden irises—fury tinged with fear, and it gutted him.
Like him, she’d been raised a soldier. Fear had been beaten out of her. The fact that she felt it now...
Desperation launched him up the dais stairs.
Aveline’s eyes narrowed. “Stop. Kneel.”
Just. Like. That. Only a few steps from his destination, he stopped and dropped to his knees. Upon impact, his kneecaps cracked. Fury and fear burned through him, every panting breath flaying his lungs. He fought with every ounce of his considerable strength, but he could not stand.
Micah smiled, smug and superior, as he pushed Meredith to her knees in a mimic of Bane. The bastard had always enjoyed the suffering of others.
“My darling Micah,” Aveline said. “Be a dear, and make the girl bleed.”
“No!” Bane shouted, willing his beast to emerge despite the queen’s command. Alas, the beast refused to try; he might hate Aveline, but he bore Meredith no love, either, only tolerating her for sex. Sex, the fiend believed, could be found anywhere, anytime, by fair means or foul.
Micah slid his gaze to Bane. Smile widening, the bastard struck. Meredith’s head whipped to the side, her lip splitting. A crimson river trickled down her chin.
“No!” Bane strained so fiercely he dislocated both shoulders. Searing pain shot through him, but he didn’t care and didn’t halt.
“Whatever she wants—” His wife spit out a mouthful of blood, then lifted her head high. “Don’t you dare give it to her, Bane.”
Though his vision blurred, he met Aveline’s stare. “Do not do this. Please.” He told himself she wouldn’t dare. They no longer loved each other, true, but they had history. In this, she would capitulate. She must.
“You give me no choice,” she replied, as ruthless as ever. “I must remove your desire to remain here.”
“If you kill her, I’ll have no incentive to win your war.” Though he longed to look to Meredith again, he kept his gaze leveled on Aveline. “I will gladly give my life on Terra, and you will lose the All War.”
She smiled, the gears clearly rotating in her mind. “My answer is...no. You’ll do everything you can to win the All War, if only to return and seek revenge against
me.”
Realization: she might actually...do this. Panic returned and redoubled, clawing at him. “I’m begging you, Aveline. Do not do this.”
“Silly Bane. It’s as good as done.” She nodded to Micah.
The bastard maneuvered behind Meredith, then fisted her hair to tilt back her head and expose her vulnerable neck.
“I will go,” Bane rushed out. “I will kill the hybrid princess and win Terra. You have my word.”
“Too late.” Aveline stood, the action as fluid as water, and glided closer to Meredith. She stopped a mere whisper away.
He fought, fought so hard. A sizzling tear streamed down his cheek. “Please, Aveline.”
“I love you, Bane.” Meredith tried to smile, but a sob escaped. “May we meet again in the hereafter.”
“You cry for each other. Pathetic.” Lacking any kind of gentleness, Aveline cupped Meredith’s cheek.
Bane bellowed curse after curse. Calm down. Think! Words began to rush from him. “Do you remember when we were children, Aveline? You wanted a rose from the queen’s private garden. I snuck in and stole it for you, earning twenty lashes. Yet I bore the pain with pride, for I’d made you smile. You said you’d never forget, that you’d always be in my debt.”
“Oh, yes. About that. I lied,” she said, not bothering to glance in his direction.
New curses burst from him.
Meredith struggled...at first. Then black lines—death lines—branched over her face, beginning where Aveline’s hands rested, and she stilled, utterly subdued. Blood leaked from her eyes and poured from her nostrils.
Fresh tears streaked down his cheeks. The Touch of Death. Aveline’s unique ability in action.
As his precious wife gasped for breath she couldn’t catch, her mouth flailing open and closed, blood painted her teeth and dribbled down her chin. Still he fought. Get to her! Just have to get to her, and she’ll be all right. He would transfuse her with his blood. Every drop, if necessary. His life for hers. A worthy sacrifice. Muscles and tendons tore, the pain excruciating. Stars winked through his vision. And yet, the compulsion to remain in place never wavered.
Then Meredith’s head lulled forward, her body going lax.
“No!” Was she de—gone?
Aveline punched a fist through his wife’s chest cavity, ripping out her heart. Micah released her body, and Meredith crashed to the floor, the pop of breaking bones ringing out.
She was. She was gone. Dead. Guilt, grief and betrayal stabbed Bane, leaving his heart in ruins. Meredith was dead, and Aveline had done it. The woman he’d once loved, once planned to wed, had killed the woman he did love and had wed. She’d treated their shared history like garbage. Treated Bane as nothing. Less than nothing.
The queen met his gaze, grinned and bit into his wife’s heart. As she closed her eyes, savoring the influx of strength, he threw back his head and shouted to the rafters until his lungs threatened to collapse.
“Be quiet,” Aveline snapped.
Helpless to obey, panting, he dropped his hands to his sides and sagged to his haunches. He’d failed his precious wife, and he didn’t...he couldn’t...
The queen finished off the organ and approached him, just as graceful as before. With two fingers under his chin, she forced his attention up. “Do you wish to strike at me, warrior?” Blood stained her teeth.
“I do.” Rage blistered him, the need to lash out stronger than ever before, her every inhalation an unforgivable offense. He would give anything to strike at her. And, if he couldn’t end her himself, he would find another way.
Or another queen.
Forget the toxic cycle. Bane would serve anyone but Aveline.
Even the princesses on Terra, whoever they happened to be. When one came of age, he would be able to pick her from a crowd of thousands. He would find and protect her until he won the All War. Just before Aveline arrived to claim her prize, he would perform the Blood Rite, awakening hybrids. The High Council would assume Bane had sired them during his years of combat, which was perfectly legal.
The new queen could fight and kill Aveline.
Ramifications? Yes. He wouldn’t be the one to deliver the deathblow.
Did it matter? One way or another, Aveline had to die.
Hope kindled, a flame in need of fuel. “You’re right,” he said, glaring. “I’ll go to Terra, and I’ll win the war. One day, my smiling face will be the last thing you see before a sword is driven into your black heart.”
She patted his cheek and smiled, pleased. “I look forward to your attempt.”
CHAPTER ONE
How to melt his icy exterior!
—Nola Lee, Oklahoma Love Match Magazine
AD 701, human timeline
103rd All War, Month 2
Terra
KILL. NO MERCY.
On the trail of his next target, Bane skulked through a Terran jungle. Sweat drenched him, draining his strength, but a rush of adrenaline kept him going, feeding his ravenous muscles. Massive trees abounded, their interwoven limbs forming a leafy canopy, blocking the sun’s too-harsh rays. A blessing and a curse. Those gnarled limbs also placed intractable walls in his path, slowing his progress.
Hurry! As he maneuvered around another tangle of vegetation, menace accompanied his every step. He did his best to remain in the shadows. Monkeys watched him from the trees, wary and frightened. Did they sense a predator greater than themselves?
An ever-present fury clung to him like a second skin, worsened by the sweltering heat and thick veil of humidity. Beneath his fury, the need for vengeance remained unflinching. A lifeline. His only friend. Maintain your focus. Do not think of Meredith.
Gloriously strong Meredith.
He bit his tongue, tasting blood, and forced his mind on the hunt at hand.
He carried no weapons; he had no need. I am the weapon. His target owned a mystical sword known as The Blood Drinker, able to cause unfixable wounds. To strike at Aveline with such a blade...to hear her screams...to watch her writhe in agony...
I must have it! According to one of three All War rules, each combatant was allowed to bring a single item from home. Thirty-nine warriors meant thirty-nine weapons to claim. To activate a weapon, you had to kill its owner. Since Bane had known he could steal from combatants as well as native dwellers known as vikings, he’d brought a pair of goggles to protect his eyes.
So far, he’d killed a single soldier, winning a dagger able to turn its handler into mist. But the beast had burst from its cage, and shredded the metal like paper.
Today, he would kill a male named Valor, acquiring and activating The Blood Drinker.
Bane would have to remove Valor’s head or heart, or burn his body to ash. The only ways to end a combatant. Even the fire-breathers like Bane could be burned, one blaze not always equal to another.
When he came upon a wall of gnarled limbs, he traced a fingertip over the Rifters on his left hand. Every combatant owned Rifters, three crystal rings able to create a one-minute portal anywhere within the Terran realm. As the rings vibrated, he waved in the direction of the limbs. Two layers of air split apart, creating a doorway through the obstacle.
Animals and insects created the perfect soundtrack as he walked to the other side. Birds squawked, frogs croaked and locusts buzzed. A jungle cat roared. The beast shoved an answering roar past his lips, the animalistic sound echoing from the trees. The rest of the forest went silent, and he paused to listen for any sign of his enemy’s approach.
Nothing. Inhale, exhale. Good, that’s good.
Beneath the scent of earth and foliage, Bane picked up his target’s distinctive musk. So close! Anticipation drove him forward. Soon, the morning sun would rise, putting him at a major disadvantage.
Kill the combatant, return to my mountain lair.
He yearned for the day he could slay every combatant a
nd return to Adwaeweth. First, he had to find a Terran princess, ensure she reached her eighteenth birthday and train her to fight. Which meant the All War had to motor on, even if he had to start saving combatants. Therefore, he would contain the beast, however necessary. Even if he had to obtain a lover.
Denial screeched inside his mind. He would rather die an agonizing death than touch another woman. But he would rather live with endless guilt than give Aveline what she desired.
I will avenge you, sweet Meredith. Nothing and no one will stop me.
Enough! Ignore the grief. Forge ahead.
Hushed voices drifted from a short distance away. He froze, listening more carefully. Two speakers—his target and another male with a deep tenor. Another combatant. One who’d brought an elaborate suit of armor with retractable spikes that ripped through flesh and bone as easily as melted butter.
Anticipation spiking once again, he stalked around a tree. Closing in...
Behind him, a twig snapped. He ducked and spun, and a sword was swinging over his head with an ominous whoosh—the sword. The one he wanted more than his next breath. Hello, Valor.
“Voice projection,” Bane said. “Nice trick.” Staying low, he flowed with his momentum and kicked Valor’s ankles together.
The warrior dropped, but swiftly rolled to his feet.
Movement to the left. Another warrior approached—a male named Malaki. He jumped from a tree while clinging to a vine, swinging, swooping... The spikes in his armor slashed Bane from cheek to navel, shearing off hanks of muscle. Searing pain. Tides of blood pouring from the open wounds.
The beast snarled and beat at his skull, wanting out of its cage.
Calm. Steady. Both opponents were tall and packed with strength, yet they were no match for Bane, even with the beast under lock and key.
“Did you think we’d make this easy for you, beast?” Malaki landed on his feet, the grille of his helmet splattered with bits of Bane’s face.
Valor grinned with cold calculation. “You murdered my brother during an All War.” He lifted his sword, the metal glinting in a beam of sunlight. “Today, I avenge him.”
Frost and Flame Page 2
