Disobedient (Rise of the Realms: Book Two)

by D. Fischer

  Wolf mates are supposed to be exactly that – wolf and wolf. Not dragon and wolf. Is my second life messing with the rules of nature? Or is her existence doing this?

  I lick my bottom lip and remove the touch of my hand from hers. My mind frantically searches for reasons, incoherent thoughts and questions flicking through and disappearing before I can explore them. I’m about to stagger to my death, to fight for my life, when I’ve finally found my purpose.

  “Get a move on!” a vampire yells from behind us.

  “I’m fine,” I grunt, angry at my situation and placing the blame on Kat’s undeserving shoulders. I grab the hilt of the next, one sword for each hand, in case I have to defend Kat as well. Two swords kill faster than one.

  I spin to the group and stiffen my shoulders, swinging the swords in a circle at my sides. “Let’s go.”

  Slowly, they turn, taking small, frightened shuffles through the tunnel. Kat’s strides are large as she leads the group, her gait confident and unwavering. The very real possibility of her death, of everyone’s deaths, doesn’t seem to affect her. She has something up her sleeve; I just haven’t figured out what. Every plan I tried to come up with, she’s shot down, refusing to add her own advice to what’s to come. I don’t know if she’ll turn into a dragon. I’m not even sure if she can do it at will, but I’m not banking on it.

  I twist the swords in my hand once more as the few stray sand particles grind below my shoes. The light filters in from the end of the tunnel, casting deep shadows from everyone’s shuffling. It was a much shorter walk than I anticipated it to be, and as soon as we enter the large area, our feet sink into dry sand. Our heads swivel, and our bodies’ turn in full circle, taking in the scene.

  The Colosseum is large, causing my heart to drop to my toes. Less than a minute ago, I had imagined a much smaller area, surrounded by small groups and crowds of people. The arena is large, football field size, and those definitely aren’t people.

  The walls are made of ascending stone benches. Rows and rows of creatures I’ve never seen before line the seats that make the walls. On one side, a slab of stone sits low to the sands, Kheelan sitting with two others I don’t recognize.

  I look behind them and gasp, the twirl on my swords halting in my hands. Aiden stands behind a lean, tall fee, and Eliza behind him. Fresh tears run down Eliza’s face, her cheeks red and shining, while Aiden’s arms ripple with agitated muscle. What did I miss? How is he alive? Squinting, I attempt a closer look. Instead of normal irises, some sort of red – lava – ripples in their depths. What is he?

  The crowd raises its collective fists while most shout “mortem.” I tear my eyes from Eliza and Aiden, dropping my gaze to the two fee I don’t recognize. One is undoubtedly the fee of the dream realm. Her resemblance to Sandy is unmistakable. The other has his black eyes locked to something next to me, his jaw ticking and his face beet red. The female fee’s eyes widen as she, too, gazes at what he sees.

  I look beside me, curiously concerned. My heavy breaths drown the cheers of the crowd as adrenaline courses through my body, pumping blood in my ears. Kat stands there, locking eyes with them, a smug smile puffing her cheeks. She switches the hilt of her sword to the other hand, twirling it within her palm.

  “What’s going on?” I ask her. “Do they know you?”

  “We’re about to have a party, Dyson.” She mumbles, knowing I’ll be able to hear. “Get your party hat on.”

  “Open the gates!” Kheelan yells, throwing his arms in the air. His voice echoes as though there are speakers built throughout the structure, booming and menacing.

  Chains rattle, and metal scrapes against metal. The unknown dangers ahead stir my wolf, his attention moving from his mate to impending threat. He paws inside me, muddled at my distress. All it takes is a mate and a battlefield to rattle the chains he confined himself to?

  I glower to Kat, the group forming a circle, back to back. The sandman sways the handle of his weapon, the spiked ball swinging. Gan holds two, short knifes in his hands, his chuckle cackling and mad. Jane and Tanya each grip a sword though I can tell they’re heavy in their grips. The tips tilt too far toward the blood-soaked sand.

  “Get ready,” Kat yells to us, her eyes glowing an infuriating orange. Dark, black circles emerge on the skin around her eyes, her features contorting to a hell-bent witch. Smoke curls from her flared nostrils and she grunts, her voice deeper. “We have a few uninvited guests.”

  We stare at the lifted gates, and a rumble rocks our feet, stirring the sand in a trembling wave. The crowd’s cheers swell at the sound of wild beasts. I nod to Kat, ready, and stretch my stiff neck. Though I have no wish to see what’s about to exit this wall, I know I have no choice but to endure it.

  Survive . . . or die. Fight, or cease to exist. I’ll be damned if this is the end.

  I look to Kat, concerned for whatever creature is heavy enough to feel like an earthquake when it walks. “Think we could get a little help from a dragon?”

  She puckers her lips. “I’d prefer not to play all my cards just yet.” Her eyebrows wiggle with salutation and she bends her knees, lowering her body. “Here it comes.”

  In what feels like slow motion, the breath rushes from my lungs as I swivel my head back to the opening, my cheeks loose and eyes wide.

  Hoofs exit the shadow of the tunnel first, mid gallop, before the full creature emerges, a beast riding its back. It’s the largest four-legged animal I’ve ever seen, and its rider is more massive; skin a dark blue, tusks exiting large lips, white sparkling eyes, and a bald head. Its skin looks like worn blue leather, flawed with imperfections as though it was sewn together. The muscles roping its arms are beyond imagination. I’m positive if its forearm was placed next to my body, the bulging bicep would be taller than me.

  “An Orc,” the sandman yells, gripping his weapon tighter, twirling the spiked ball in a circle. “Sureen created an Orc.”

  The orc rides a horse almost as large as he is; four hoofs, an elongated neck and muzzle, two ears, but the comparison from a horse to this creature ends there. A three-foot-long, rigid and pointed horn juts from the horse’s forehead, its body made of bones with no eyes or skin. There isn’t even muscle, which baffles me, yet I feel fear for the unknown, for this creature who breaks the laws of nature. But there is no law here. None which warrant any sense.

  My wolf snarls inside me while I gulp. “Is that a unicorn?” I ask, my voice cracking.

  Kat’s eyebrows lift, and her chin juts with calculation. “Some sort of dead one.” We watch as the Orc and unicorn gallop around the field, a show of display to rile a feral crowd. “It’s an interesting twist, don’t you think?”

  “What is wrong with you?” I spit.

  She doesn’t answer me, which infuriates me more. Every bone in my body wants to take her and run, to protect her from even herself. There’s no way we will all survive this. Not with the giant and his steed of bones.

  My wolf growls, snarling and scratching inside me. He wants free. He wants to defend. I don’t know what the hell he plans to do against this opponent. Besides . . . no one is walking out of here alive.

  Two more orcs riding the skeletal unicorns exit the same tunnel, their hoofs kicking up dust and sand as they ride past us. Any hope I once held, fades, my stomach dropping with it.

  The first Orc roars, and I fight to cover my ears to keep them at my side with my swords at the ready. The soundwaves bounce off the walls, and those seated along them, rebounding back and vibrating the ground.

  ELIZA PLAATS

  DEATH REALM

  Kheelan turns to Sureen, a brow quirked. “Unicorns?”

  Distracted, her head barely moves as she shakes it, her attention remaining on the sands and those who now roam it. “Necrocorns,” she corrects.

  I hold my breath with tense lips as Katriane is the first to act. I marvel as her free arm lights with a blazing red and orange flame, and Kheelan’s back stiffens in surprise. She jerks her arm through the
air as though she’s throwing a Frisbee, and hurls it at a necrocorn’s hooves, erupting like a bomb. Sand sprays the walls and crowd, and black smoke rises in puffs. The animal screeches a sound I’ve never heard. It’s raucous, a noise that tickles my eardrums. Scrunching my nose, I cover my ears and watch as the necrocorn drops to the ground, the orc thudding after it. A cloud of dust rises from the sand, obscuring the view with billowing, rounded shapes.

  The orc skids to a halt, face buried in the sand. Waving her sword in the air, she digs her feet in and runs toward the orc, breaking free of the group and the circle they formed.

  A blur passes her, a ball of grey. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, for the dust to lift enough to see a massive wolf encase its jaw around the Orc’s thick neck. With a yank of his head, the wolf rips it out with one fluid motion. Thick droplets and streams of blood stray from the open wound, coating the ground like a hose spraying a thirsty garden. The cheers erupt in the crowd, some relishing the reminiscence of the Orc’s liquid life force splashed against their face.

  Sureen’s fingers grip her thighs, her knuckles flexing, and the nails dig into her dewy, mahogany skin. She’s watching her creations wither by the hands of her enemy.

  My observation snaps to my mother, to Aiden’s mother, and the sandman who stands with them. An orc dismounts his necrocorn, jumping from it to land in the sand. His weight shakes our platform, and I widen my stance to keep my balance. He swings his arm to the side, hitting the creature in the ribs, deeming it useless. The necrocorn soars, landing in the rows of seats. Its weight crushes a portion of the crowd’s demons and vampires, and the wall creaks, a crack running from the impact to the sands.

  The Orc picks up a large foot, his four fingers balled into fists, and runs toward the group. He’s easy to watch, every detail, his movements slow due to his massive size.

  I squeal, deadly, bloody, gruesome deaths and scenarios playing out in my head. My hand hovers over my mouth, and I bite my bottom lip. Aiden partially turns his torso, his eyes wide as they lock with mine, and his lips part. He doesn’t know how to stop the impending deaths any more than I do.

  With a swing of the sandman’s weapon, and timely precision, the spiked ball connects to the orc’s temple mid-run. The orc staggers back and shakes its head with an abundance of pain etched around the skin of his large eyes. His leathery skin jiggles with each shake, and black blood floods down his cheek.

  A man I don’t recognize sits on the sand in the middle of the arena, rocking back and forth, his daggers at his side. The last necrocorn and orc gallop his direction, taking advantage of the weak, the hoof beats thunderous.

  I gasp. The man doesn’t see them; he’s unaware. He won’t be able to move in time. What I witness, what I see, will be forever burned into my mind, haunting me for the rest of my second life.

  I can hear the crunch of bones, of body, from here. The hooves of the large animal run directly overtop him, crushing the man beneath as though he was transparent, nothing but a wisp of wind, a twig in the road.

  A cloud of sand dust settles as the necrocorn reaches the other end of the arena, rearing its skeletal head in the victory of its kill. The Orc turns his upper half and the skin along his hard stomach wrinkles. His wild eyes glance at the damage they’ve done and a slow grin spreads across his face, revealing large, yellow teeth. He raises his arms and beats his chest like a drum, whipping his head along his shoulders and roaring to the sky.

  What’s left is a man who no longer resembles one. He’s a pile of skin. The organs were ripped from his body by piercing hoofs and lay next to him, haphazard and catastrophic. His entire blood volume soaks in the sand, swallowing what once fed his heart. A crushed face, an open mouth, pleads with the fogs of the sky, forever screaming the injustice of his demise to a heaven that will never hear.

  Aiden faces me once more. His face is carefully blank, murderous I realize, as his thoughts whisper in my mind, mirroring my own.

  I was right before. There is something of Aiden left, and it thrives with each passing second his mother fights in the pits below. He fears for her, for her life, especially after witnessing the first death of a man more deserving than most. They killed him without consideration and deterrent, without conscious effort. It was all too easy and the man all too helpless. They’re down there, my friends, my family, fighting for a few more minutes to a borrowed heart, but they’ll die as slaves of entertainment.

  I’ve had enough.

  Fury beats against my sympathy until my internal walls shatter, bursting through me like the cracking of an old, frail dam. This isn’t right. This isn’t fair. I had promised justice.

  I scream, the heavy noise leaving my throat in a roar. It doesn’t sound like it belongs to me. I feel the rush of power within sparkle and slither along my skin, feeding me the promised righteousness. It’s a quenching need, a thirst, a hunger for vengeance, a cool downpour on a desert sand.

  My hair sparks with static. It lifts and floats wherever it chooses, swaying around my head.

  It’s darkness. Pure, undiluted dusk. A black, patchless hole. It’s the downfall from which I may never return. It’s the call to a side everyone restrains with a lock, choosing to bury it beneath a mental cement.

  I won’t stand aside while everything is taken from me.

  Blue bolts of lightning light my skin as though I am the storm ready to unleash my fury on an unsuspecting town.

  I’m the center. I’m the sun. I choose what lives. I choose when I erupt. I choose what I consume.

  Lifting my arms, my power feeds me, filling me to capacity as it gathers. My feet leave the flat platform, and I hover.

  A whisper tickles words inside my head, a slithering tone using my voice. It’s the power, the expanse of mind, a second consciousness which should never be allowed access. It’s alluring, convincing . . . evil. You want the darkness. You need it . . . This is who you are.

  I listen to the voice, feel its call, and accept its request.

  Aiden’s eyes widen, and his crossed arms drop to his sides like dead weight. The fee in front turn, their expressions matching Aiden’s.

  TEMBER

  DEATH REALM

  I glance at the scratch on my shoulder, sluggishly bleeding blood. A vampire’s claw caught my skin when he swiped at me. Standing here, chest rising and falling, I chastise myself for the miscalculation which caused such a blemish.

  “All dead?” Jaemes asks, kicking a pile of ash.

  “It would appear so.” I sigh, dropping my fingers from probing the wound. It’ll heal soon. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

  “I have brothers,” he responds with a dry tone. He places his hands on his hips and spins to face me. Through all that exertion, Jaemes doesn’t have a drop of sweat or a scratch on his body. In fact, his breathing is normal. I bite the inside of my cheek, nervous, refusing to believe it’s a very real possibility that I may be losing my touch.

  “Right.” I clear my throat. “Shall we?”

  We lumber onward to an archway, the only entrance there is. Crumbling, brick walls hail our path, our shoes echoing and bouncing off, vibrating my ears. It’s disrupting my ability to listen for another oncoming assault.

  “That won’t be the last of them,” he warns. “I still don’t know how we are to accomplish this undetected.”

  “I don’t either,” I murmur.

  Up ahead, I see a break in the walls, and I know we’ve reached our destination. Jaemes grips the curve of his bow which is settled over his shoulder, his gait confident as he crosses. His foot is the first to land in the death realm, but he halts, cocking his head instead of continuing on.

  “This may be easier than we thought,” he whispers.

  My eyes narrow. “Where is everyone?”

  The streets are quiet; no shades or vampires roam them. This wasn’t what I imagined death to be like. I knew Kheelan was a cruel man, but this place is empty. There’s no meaning here; it’s dark, gloomy, and full of
despair.

  “I don’t know,” he mumbles. He slants his head to the side, his pointed ears twitching. “Do you hear that?”

  Frowning, I hold my breath to get a better listen. Shouts – many shouts are raised off in the distance, whispering through the streets of tall buildings with no windows. “Yes. What is it?”

  “Some kind of gathering? What would be happening in the death realm to warrant such a cheer?”

  I take a deep breath and grip Ire tighter in my palm. My skin squeaks against the rub of sturdy wood, a comfort to a circumstance I’ve never endured. “Come on.”

  Sidestepping close to the wall, Jaemes leads the way, silent and deadly. He holds an arrow in the other, our bows swaying with each stride, our hands at the ready.

  The cheers escalate the deeper we travel into the realm, encouraging excitement as adrenaline pumps through my body. The stone beneath my shoes grits with each footfall, hundreds of years old dust and crumbling stone pebbles kicking out behind us. It’s impossible to stay invisible here, even as we stay close to the wall. Not even a shade could hide, unless they walked through the buildings.

  I briefly wonder what it’s like, living in a realm with bloodthirsty creatures. It must not be too bad if the shades are gathered somewhere, cheering. There’s not a vampire in sight, and this fact alone gives me mental pause. I shake my head. If I had to choose, I’d wager they’re with the cheering crowd. Perhaps those cheers aren’t of pure happiness.

  The road we’ve been walking on splits and spills out into a large opening. At the center is Kheelan’s home, which he calls the Keep the last I heard. Behind it, a perfect circular wall, resembling a . . .

  My eyes widen, wrinkling the skin on my forehead. “Is that a Colosseum?”

  Jaemes’ teeth grind, his eyes roaming the surface and the many arched entrances. “Yes.”

  Another round of cheers resounds, complimented by a roar of a creature I don’t recognize. It’s deep, rumbling, and aggressive. It accents the Colosseum which is constructed only for blood, a performance of the unwilling and pleasure for a sick mind. The cheers of delight, the battle cries, spill over the top as one and slither through the streets like the fog.