by L. S. O'Dea
Cal nodded, his eyes hard with hatred. Jethro stood and extended his hand to Cal, but the other Almighty ignored him and scrambled to his feet.
“Seize him,” gasped Cal, his voice still weak.
He felt the Guards moving toward him before he saw them. It was as if the very air surrounding him became a threat. He spun around swinging and connected with flesh. Fists pummeled his face and stomach, but the pain barely registered. He lowered his head and rammed into the closest body, lifting the Guard into the air and tossing him over his shoulder. Something slammed into his side, knocking him to the ground. He pushed himself to his knees, hitting anything he could reach, but more bodies collided into his, knocking him back to the ground and smothering him with their weight. He bucked trying to dislodge his opponents, but there were too many and within minutes he was trapped under a pile of Guards. The weight shifted and they rolled him over, tying his hands behind his back.
“Bring him here.” Cal’s voice rang with triumph.
He growled as the Guards lifted him to his feet and dragged him to Cal. The captain was going to pay for this, maybe not now, but one day.
“You dare assault your commanding officer.” Cal’s face was mottled with rage. “You are finished. Done! You won’t even have your Producer Camps to fall back on if I have my way.”
He snarled at the other Almighty as he welcomed the rage that flowed through his veins. This weak, sniveling coward was threatening him. Him! He didn’t need his hands to tear Cal’s limbs from his body. He’d use his teeth. He lurched forward, pulling the Guards several feet as he slammed his head into Cal’s gut and knocked the other Almighty to the ground. He threw himself forward, prepared to finish his attack, but the Guards regained control, dragging him backward. He roared, his blood screaming for him to kill his enemy.
Cal jumped to his feet, his face crimson with rage. He grabbed his sword and strode toward Jethro. The Guards tightened their hold as Cal rested his weapon against Jethro’s chest. “Make sure he has a front row seat.” He jabbed Jethro slightly and walked over to the prisoners. The second AC Guard was sitting by the log instead of laying over it.
“No, please. We don’t know nothing about any camp. I swear,” pleaded the prisoner as Cal’s Guards positioned him over the log.
Jethro took a deep breath, calming his rage to an icy storm of hatred. These words were going to kill him. “Cal, I’m sorry. Don’t do this.” He wasn’t sorry but he’d beg for the Guards’ lives. “If you stop, I’ll make sure Conguise and Jason pull me from this mission.” It was a weak promise. After attacking his commanding officer his days as a temporary soldier were over. From the look Cal shot him, the other Almighty realized it too.
“This is what we do to traitors.” Cal raised his sword.
There was a swish and a thud. Ranger’s knees buckled and the Guards had to hold him up.
Jethro’s eyes never left Cal as Ranger was put into position and beheaded. Cal would pay for this. The Guards still held him tight. If they’d only loosen their hold for a moment, he’d kill Cal with his arms tied behind his back.
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Rise of the River Man
CHAPTER 1
MUTTER WAS IN TROUBLE. No one wanted a Guard like him. He was too big, too strong and too ugly. He stretched out on the concrete floor and winced. His ribs were definitely broken, but he’d fought and won with broken bones in the past. He started coughing. It was this sickness that had cost him the match. He sat up; the coughing subsided. He’d pleaded with Vickers, his Almighty master, not to make him fight but the money had already switched hands. He leaned his head against the bars of the cage. He’d lost the fight and now he’d lose his life.
The door opened and a male Almighty around thirty years old with blond hair entered the room followed by Satcha, the House Servant who ran this establishment. The Guards’ Shelter didn’t allow visiting at this hour but Almightys did whatever they wanted. Mutter didn’t bother to stand up. He’d learned his lesson. Right after he’d arrived, he’d trimmed his beard and had tried to look pleasant, but it had done no good. Every time that he’d run to the front of the cage and had smiled at the Almightys, he’d smelled the fear on them. Most had tried not to look at him, but he was big and scarred and hard to ignore.
They stopped in front of his cage.
“Ableson, this is the one I told you about,” said Satcha. “Looks like he was a fighter. So, he should be used to obeying. I thought he might work for you, but he does have a bad cough.”
“Just a little tickle in my throat from this damp, rotten place.” He hated Servants. They didn’t know when to keep their big mouths shut.
The Almighty remained quiet, his blue eyes never leaving Mutter.
“Come here,” said Satcha.
Mutter wanted to stay where he was to annoy the Servant but Guards like him didn’t get many chances for a home. He stood slowly, letting the Almighty get used to his size and appearance.
“How old are you?” asked Ableson.
“Not sure. Been around for a while but not too old.” That was the safe answer. He had counted nineteen winters but that might be too old or too young. He never could tell what an Almighty wanted.
“By his teeth and body we estimate around twenty-five to thirty years,” said Satcha.
Ableson twirled his finger. Mutter understood that signal. Before the fights had started, when the betting happened, he was often sized up by the gamblers. He turned in a circle, giving the Almighty time to study him.
“I’m strong and healthy.” That was a lie but he would be healthy again. He just needed a little time and some food.
“I need an obedient Guard.” The Almighty’s eyes roamed up and down his frame.
“Won’t find one more obedient than me.”
“Let’s see if that’s true.” Ableson walked down the aisle. “Is there another Guard who he’s close to?”
“Him?” Satcha laughed, following the Almighty. “He’s so big and ugly even the other Guards stay away from him.”
Ableson stopped in the hallway. “Take this one out.”
The Servant opened the cage and slipped a rope over a young Guard’s neck. Mutter’s chest pinched. Typical. The Almighty’s always chose the young ones. His only chance was gone. They would walk out and soon he’d be executed. He started to sit back down, when the three of them stopped in front of his cage.
“Put her in with him,” said Ableson.
“Ah, we keep the younger ones separated from the older ones, especially the older males,” said Satcha.
The Almighty didn’t say a word, but his look was enough. The Servant muttered an apology and opened the door, shoving the young Guard into Mutter’s cage.
He glanced at the little Guard who stood as far away from him as possible. She couldn’t have been older than nine. She had russet hair and large, frightened, brown eyes.
“Hit her,” said Ableson, his tone conversational.
“Wait,” said Satcha. “That one’s young and attractive. I can find a home for her. Let me get—”
“I’ll pay for both.” The Almighty’s eyes never left Mutter.
Mutter kept his face a mask but his stomach clenched. He didn’t want to do this. He’d fought females before but they’d all been experienced fighters.
“I need an obedient Guard,” repeated Ableson.
The girl trembled in the corner, tears running down her soft, round cheeks. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
Pleading never changed anyone’s mind. He knew the game and it would be her or him. He stared into the girl’s scared brown eyes. “Bruised, broken or dead?”
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Author Bio
L. S. O’Dea grew up the youngest of seven in a family that uses teasing and tricks as an indication of love (or at least that’s what she tells herself). Being five years younger than he
r closest sibling often made her the unwilling entertainment for her brothers and sisters.
Before she started kindergarten her brothers taught her how to spell her first and middle name—Linda Sue. She was so proud she ran into the kitchen to tell her mother. She stood tall and recited the letters of her name: L-E-M-O-N H-E-A-D.
She’s pretty sure she has her siblings to thank for the demons that lurk in her mind, whispering dark and demented stories.
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Also by L. S. O'Dea
Chimera Chronicles
Rise of the River Man
Feeding Fersia
Breaking the Brush Men
Rage Of Rattus Norvegicus
Leaving Level Five
Lake Of Sins
Lake of Sins: Secrets in Blood
Lake of Sins: Hangman's Army
Lake Of Sins: Betrayed
Whispers From the Past
Lake of Sins: Escape
Standalone
Lake of Sins Series Box Set Books 1-3
Chimera Chronicles
A Demon's Gift
