by Stacy Reid
“That is correct, mate.” Yet he did not seem worried there would be a potential battle with his kind.
“What is the second choice Lachlan Ravenswood?” Inside she was still, coiled, waiting for some hope, bracing for the wave of attack from the approaching warriors, yet unaccountably confident he would allow no harm to her.
His lips curved, and primal anticipation throbbed in his tone as he said, “We kill.”
11
The world around Shilah turned into chaos.
The captives hadn’t been required to battle before, but now it was inevitable as dozens of warriors screamed out waves of terrible destruction. The sound waves were excruciating, an energy wave that blasted everything in its path, knocking her back, aching her eardrum. Shilah frantically erected her barrier of kinetic energy.
“Decide.”
Lachlan’s voice in her mind was a menacing rumble of power even without the darkness what had seemed stamped onto his soul. The soundwaves emitting had no impact on him, and he stood with his feet planted wide, the muscles on his back and shoulders twisting like a snake. He was leaving the choice to her, flee and protect themselves or try and help these people. “We save them!”
Before the swarm reached them, shadows snaked over the earth with shocking speed, grabbed the oncoming warriors by their neck and snapped, as if the shadows were sentient. Wicked clawed daggers appeared in Lachlan’s hands, and he moved with the shadows straight at the incoming force. He was either too brave, utterly mad, or totally confident in his brutal might. It was the latter she saw, as dozens of warriors converged on him, only to fall under the slashing blades and darting shadows. Whenever she saw him without the shadows, he was a thing of beauty, his body fluid and graceful, so fast he was a blur. Then he would disappear, and bodies would suck into the shadow to only appear seconds later, dead or dying.
She stood in a fighting stance, using the well of power in her mind to uproot trees from the ground, and massive stone boulders and throwing them at the oncoming force, slapping warriors away with brutal force. There was a fierce, burning need to survive and to protect the people behind her, and she let that dominate her will refusing to feel the terror over the hundreds of warriors pouring over the land like ants towards them.
The sun dipped, and it was if a dark aura moved over the land. Shilah flinched, releasing the boulder she’d grabbed with her thoughts, spinning to find Lachlan. The tattoo twisted on his skin, and in a burst of raw, brutal power it leaped from his body and slammed onto the ground. The earth under the Leviathan’s feet seemed to tremble, and the trees surrounding them shook. She could feel the need to kill and slaughter inside Lachlan, but instead of wading through the dozens of warriors rushing onto the open field, swords held high and spinning sound waves preceding them, he disappeared.
Shilah could spare no thoughts about why he went into the shadow space, she could only battle. Two warriors grabbed her, and spun with her, moving toward the wooded forests. They flashed so fast she could barely breathe, and she glanced behind her to see Kamu, Thyon, Kala and several others valiantly battling. Most of the warriors were concentrating on fighting the Leviathan which seemed to be rending them apart by the dozens.
Using the power of her mind, she grabbed the warriors’ throats and squeezed. They released her and stumbled. She rolled onto the forest floor, and lurched to her feet, sinking into a fighting stance. Shilah did not free them from her merciless grasp, but unable to squeeze the life from them, she delved into their minds with the intent to command them to stop breathing. Then the part of her that could not casually end a life read one of the men’s thoughts and saw that he had a wife and two children whom he loved. Acting on instincts, she delved deeper into his mind, and she peered at the memories of how he’d tormented the prisoners, even raping several women. How could a man so loving with his family be so vile?
The other warrior was more honorable, but did every bidding of his master, no matter how cruel the commands had been. With a gasp she withdrew from their minds, releasing her mental clasp on their throats.
The man to her left eagerly dragged air into his lungs, retaliating faster than expected. He dived into a roll, grabbing his swords, and flashing toward her at such speed he blurred, she could hardly keep track of.
She powered into his mind, ruthlessly ripping it from him. “Fall onto your sword.”
And with brutal precision, he impaled himself through his heart.
The other warrior parted his lips to emit a sound wave, and a snake darted from the earth to wrap around his throat, cutting off the sound before it had even formed. The snake coiled itself around the man’s body, effectively tying him so that it was impossible to move. The snake’s head shifted, sinuous and menacing. It bared its fangs, and venom dripped from its pointed teeth. Then the snake’s eyes collided with hers. Lachlan’s eyes. Swirls of gold, and blue, and red.
It waited while the man groaned and whimpered. Stark sounds of garbled fear.
“Yes,” she whispered, rejecting the mercy that was stirring in her heart.
It struck, its fangs embedding with brutal grace into the man’s throat. The guard convulsed, foam bubbling from his mouth. She did not look away even when her soul cried out for her to glance away. She watched his death, felt his horror, and pain, and accepted that justice had been done.
Three small multicolored snakes about two feet in length slithered toward her. With a gasp she stumbled back when they launched toward her, sliding sinuously up her body. Two coiled on her arm and froze, and another wrapped around her hair like a twisted crown before they froze into marble effigies.
A sound alerted her, and she spun around to see six warriors powering her way, their swords drawn. Shilah attacked, mentally grabbing them, and throwing with strength into the trunk of trees, breaking bones, and shattering limbs. Another swarm came at her, and she did the same, wielding her powers, slipping into some of their minds and commanding them to sleep while using her telekinesis to break limbs and push them away from her.
A hand grabbed her from behind and spun her around, but before she could attack, the snake on her arm came to life and faster than she could track its tiny fangs pierced the man’s throat and then the snake was back on her arm.
The warrior screamed, falling to the ground, and twitching, blood dripping from his eyes and nose. Shilah stared in disbelief at the serpent that was once again frozen in a decorative coil on her arms as if it was a piece of jewelry.
Lachlan had sent them, and she knew their command to protect her was absolute.
Spinning around, Shilah ran toward the battle, crying out at the dozens of prisoners falling beneath the brutal sound waves emitting at them.
Something dark and unknown spilled against her senses, and the Leviathan that was battling the horde disappeared. No! Shilah ran faster up the incline toward the battle, for without the monster to defend against, the empire’s force turned toward the captives. There was a red haze of madness, a fire sweeping through her, a rage unlike any she’d ever felt. She hurtled herself onto the ground, sinking into the well of her power.
She forced air through her lungs as the pressure in her head increased until it felt as if a vice gripped her skull. Then it imploded, her powers surged, and she felt the life pulse of every Mevian on the battlefield except for those approaching in battle-ready formation about a few hundred meters away. The ones she felt numbered more than two thousand. It was impossible she should hold such power…so much power. With a thought, she could kill everyone, command them to bow at her feet.
She felt the echoes of approval from the beast and the dark invitation of the power he could grant her.
“Warriors of Mevia, heed me, you will defend the prisoners, kill any who advances on them.”
The command blasted from her. Energy coursed through her and at its center was a malevolence not a natural part of her. Like the swarm of ants, they turned to the advancing troops and attacked in a wave of brutal fighting. The shrieks of
horrors and pain swamped her as with efficient savagery they decimated each other. She sent her telekinetic power into the earth, imploding it beneath the fighting warriors. Dark energy washed over her as the psychic energy slammed into her. The violence struck her hard, taking her breath, pounding at her head. She gasped for breath, and then like a vacuum it sucked from her, all that darkness and negative energy. The trail of aura lifted from her skin and without looking she knew they went to Lachlan.
Limbs shaking and her heart jerking with shock and distress, she faced him. She doubted she could say another word without bursting into sobs. He stood there, a dark protective force. She longed to fling herself into the comfort of his arms and rest her head against his shoulder, crying her regret for the lives she’d taken. There were several scars on his chest and throat healing before her eyes, and his beast was once again on his skin. He had been in some battle, and it had been fierce.
“I fought three of my people in the shadows.”
Her eyes widened, recalling he had said there had been Darkans in the shadows of the warriors.
A hard edge curved his lips. It was a smile. Shilah sucked in a harsh breath. “You are pleased with me.”
“That I am, mate.”
She shook her head, hating the burn of tears in her throat. “I killed them.” And she was petrified to accept that hundreds of warriors lay on the forest floor dying, with a simple command from her. With great powers came great responsibility, and Shilah felt as if she had just abused hers. The knowledge that the empire was cruel and unjust did not soothe the sorrow rising in her heart. The men behind her had families of their own, people they loved.
He inhaled deeply. “Some still suffer.”
And he fed on their fears and agony and took pride in the fact she had ended their lives. Shilah’s stomach cramped at his unapologetic brutality.
“We are at war.” His voice in her mind was a dark pulse of power. “In a time of war, we kill, and we do not show mercy.”
“Mercy is for the weak,” she replied, repeating his earlier lessons.
Yet her heart ached, and the fingers that pushed the tangled hair from her face trembled. Taking a deep breath, she lowered the firm hold she had on her psychic barriers and allowed the energy of those suffering to wash over her. The minds of those trapped under the mountain cried out their terror, those who lay dying, thought of their wives, and daughters, and sons. None thought of the war they were fighting for. “I have to save them.”
He studied her face, his eyes lingering on each of her features. Searching for weakness perhaps, and silently condemning her for her compassion. A blink, and then he was inches from her. A clawed fingertip lightly brushed against her lower lip.
“Is this your wish?”
His touch so gentle she could barely feel it, yet electricity crackled in the air between them.
“Yes. Do you think me weak?”
She knew it did, and it affected her that he would think her a liability. Silly and outrageous for she did not want to be his mate. Yet it mattered, so much that her heart ached as she waited for his response.
“I think you are different from anyone I’ve ever known. Different is not weak.”
His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her frantic pulse. His expression was one of stark desire and unrelenting hunger. And in the midst of the battlefield, he kissed her. For a dazzling moment, the world seemed to go up in flames. She saw the monster in him, the utter darkness and rage, but instead of fleeing, Shilah embraced it.
“You hold what is left of my tattered soul in the palms of your hands.”
With a whimper, she clung to him. She hadn’t known her body could be so alive. Lightning streaked from her breast to belly in a wicked caress. There was nothing else but his mouth claiming hers, whirling her into another world of agonizing pleasure she hadn’t known existed. Her skin crawled with need, her mind was chaos as the darkness mixed with her light and seduced the hunger in her soul.
“You are my queen. I will give you all that you dream of—retribution…power.”
She fought against the dark, seductive whisper of power sensing on a profound level what he offered. Shilah pulled her lips from his, and the darkness retreated to give her breathing room.
Then she burst into raw, ugly tears. She didn’t question the why of it, but when he hoisted her into his arms, she did not pull away. Instead, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and buried her face into the crook of his neck and cried, distantly wondering why she hadn’t run to Kala’s arms.
She breathed raggedly, feeling a little shaky, on unfamiliar ground. He walked with her toward the fleeing captives as they moved deeper into the forest. Shilah peeked over his shoulders at the decimated warriors. It looked as if a massacre had taken place. As far as she could see, corpses and the nearly dead littered the ground, blood and entrails strewed around them, their weapons broken and useless. Carrion birds hovered, smelling the feast that lay below them. She stared at the destruction and unable to bear the revulsion of how they suffered, she connected to the minds of those still living.
“Help each other to safety. Tend the wounded. Do not pursue the prisoners.”
Exhausted she disconnected from all the mental threads and rested against the warrior who carried her. They reached a clearing deep into the forest, and he lowered her to the ground. Several people were bent over a creek, greedily drinking water, while a few rested on the grass or trunks of the towering trees which seemed to rise to the sky itself. Her sister looked up from where she tended the wound of a man and gave her a weary smile. Shilah was shocked to see the witch, administering crushed herbs to the lips of the people they’d rescued. Shilah glanced up at Lachlan. “You rescued her.”
“I traveled with the shadows for her.”
She stepped from his side and made her way over to the small gathering. Songbirds fluttered above their heads, darting in and out of the tree canopy, calling sweetly and bringing a brief smile to few of their lips.
“We made it out, but we cannot rest here long,” Shilah said, looking from one weary but hopeful face to another. “Only a few minutes at best. For now, the battle has been won, but to escape the empire fully, you will need to continue fleeing. I…I do not believe those from Mevia can return. Surely the empire will re-hunt you.”
A few tired nods were given. A woman with wild blonde hair, blood and dirt-matting the thick strands together, and the greenest eyes Shilah had ever beheld stood. “I am forever in your debt Princess Shilah, and my house will repay.” Those untrusting eyes turned to the man behind her. “And yours Lachlan Ravenswood. I am Ivory Markham, and I am a high duchess of the house of Ellesmere from the kingdom of Caelum. I only need to travel to the waters which I can feel only a mile away, and I will escape to my realm.”
As Shilah understood it, Caelum—the kingdom of water was mostly under the vast oceans of Amagarie, with only a small portion of that kingdom above ground.
Ivory glanced at the people behind her. “Those of you who wish to escape Mevia are welcome to travel with me to my home. My holdings are vast, and there is ample space for everyone. I will try my best to offer protection to those who are weaker. Though the healing herbs from the witch helped, I am not at full strength. My kingdom also possesses the elixir of life, and with a sip, you will be restored to full health and powers if you’d possessed any. I will open my home to you for as long as needed.”
Several people stood and moved closer to the high duchess, their relief palpable. The witch stepped forward. “I will provide a cloaking spell for everyone. Returning to your family is dangerous. It is certain the empire’s warriors will be watching. But the cloaking spell will hide you from them, even if they are before you. It will only last for seven days, but it will give you the opportunity to visit your family and assure them of your safety or even convince them to flee the empire with you to another kingdom.”
Everyone surged toward the witch and the high duchess. Shilah almost wept at the profound h
ope shining through their auras. Amirah started her incantation, and the survivors’ aura begun vanishing under the cloaking spell. A stir came through her mind.
“You did this,” Kala said, pride evident in her tone. “You saved them.”
Shilah glanced toward the tree her sister leaned on, and then made her way over. She gathered her into her arms and hugged her. “I love you, Kala. How brave you’ve been.”
“I love you too. I saw you…kissing him.”
Shilah stilled in the cage of her sister’s arms.
“I could feel the desire you had for him through our link. I’ve never felt anything like it,” Kala whispered. “How can you feel so much for a creature like him?”
She released her sister, and stared at her, unable to explain the madness and the hunger which had seized her. Kala’s eyes were turbulent with fear and uncertainty.
“Do we travel to Caelum with everyone?”
A ripple of dark power came from Lachlan. Of course, with his enhanced senses he heard her sister. She glanced around to where he had been leaning with deceptive ease against a tree trunk. Somewhere between fearing death at his hand and escaping the dungeons, she had lost a part of herself to this monster of darkness, to this man, to this warrior, and Shilah doubted she would ever reclaim it.
The awareness was terrifying. Exhilarating.
As if he felt her stare, his eyes snapped open—dark swirling pits of possessive fury.
“No,” she whispered, knowing he would hear. “We travel to the Darkage.”
A cry tore from Kala, and before Shilah could explain, shadows and darkness coated her senses, and her breathing choked off as he moved with unparallel speed with her away from everyone. She buried her face in his neck, so she could breathe, and in the grey shadowed world, she could see the shadows taking her sister, the Queen’s blades, and the witch with them.
12
