by Meg Anne
He continued to draw on his power until he felt full almost to the point of bursting. Then, with a quick prayer to the Mother, he sent it straight into Helena’s injured body. There was no reaction at first, and Von began to worry he’d done something wrong. Her body was absorbing the power but didn’t seem to be able to do anything with it.
Helena’s sharp gasp let him know she was at least conscious again. Connected as they were, he could feel her sit up, their mental connect still secure although a bit foggy.
“Thank you.”
“Whatever you need, Mira. You don’t even have to ask.”
His mouth, or was that hers, felt bone dry. “Just a bit more.” Her voice was thin and brittle.
As she began to pull even more of his power into her, he realized why she hadn’t been able to immediately heal herself in the first place. She had drained herself almost completely. Von could hardly comprehend the amount of magic she had used trying to keep the various illusions in place on top of whatever else she’d had to do inside. With the depth of her reservoir, his magic was probably akin to a drop in the ocean.
The pain continued to recede as she repaired whatever damage had been done. There was a blinding flash of light before Kragen’s face came into view. Von drew back, confused to see him until he realized he was seeing through Helena’s eyes.
“Thank the Mother,” Kragen swore, checking over his shoulder before looking back down with concern. “Do you need me to carry you?”
Helena shook her head and pushed up onto her feet. “No, Von took care of it.”
“Von?” Kragen’s brows lowered, and he began to inspect the back of her head.
Helena slapped his hands away. “I’m fine. He gave me the power I needed to heal myself.”
“Thank you again, Mate. That was an unexpectedly close call.”
“I gave you an order.”
He felt her amusement at his gruff reminder. “We’re on our way out now. Reyna and the Night Stalkers should already be outside.”
“I will have Starshine ready for you.”
The flicker of amusement he’d felt at Kragen’s reaction to her seemingly absurd explanation was quick to fade. Helena had put herself in a position where she’d been too weak to defend herself, and he hadn’t been there to protect her. Everything in him that recognized Helena as his raged against the realization. He should have been there with her. She should never have put the safety of so many others above herself. She should have known better. She should have listened to him…
Von’s lips lifted at the last one. Helena always listened to him, she just chose to ignore him and do what she wanted to do in the first place more than half the time. It was part of what he loved about her. She was as strong-willed, perhaps even stronger, than he was. Unfortunately, that did little to comfort him, knowing just how close to danger she’d been.
If Rowena had captured her during that moment of weakness, there was nothing that would have stopped him from walking in there and handing himself over just so that he could be with her. He was far too intimately aware of Rowena’s brand of torture. He couldn’t stand by knowing what she was doing to his Mate. Not if there was a way he could save her. With both of them under Rowena’s control, there was very little hope for the rest of the Chosen.
Von shuddered. They’d come close, far too close, to losing everything.
Chapter Eleven
Ronan had lost track of how long he’d been fighting. Time held no meaning in battle, every second stretching out into hours. Thanks to Von’s warning, they were mostly able to dodge the poisoned Endoshan blades, although there had been more near misses than he’d care to admit.
He’d like to say he’d been surprised to see the Endoshan force face off against them, but he’d seen more than one man turn traitor to save their own ass. Unfortunately, all the training he’d drilled into his Kiri’s army had been focused on fighting the brainless Shadows, not free-thinking men with poisoned blades. There was little time to worry about whether the lessons translated now. They were going to live or die on their own prowess.
Ronan was also thankful for the ranged team at their back. Between the Talyrians and Timmins’ team, the heavy influx of fighters was seriously pared down by the time they ever reached him and his men at the front lines. They’d also been using their combined powers to keep the heavy smoke from the various fires out of the main battlefield. A handy trick, too bad it benefited the enemy as much as it did them.
Another Endoshan lunged toward him, and Ronan dodged the blow, using his momentum to spin around the man and shove him into one of his buddies with a well-placed kick to the back. One of Reyna’s Night Stalkers finished the kill before moving on.
A sharp pain had Ronan spinning to the right in time to see a Shadow lunging for him. The walking corpses had joined the battle shortly after the courtyard went up in flames. He could only assume that was around the time Rowena realized they were there. Hopefully Helena and Reyna had made it out safely. He hadn’t seen either woman since they’d parted ways in the forest. In the chaos, he hadn’t had much of a chance to keep track of anyone.
Ronan continued to swing his blade, leaving a path of bodies in his wake. If ever there was something he was good at, it was killing people. A streak of black had his head twisting as his body braced for an attack that didn’t come. Instead of facing a blow, Ronan’s eyes landed on one of Rowena’s Generals. The man had the same pale skin and stringy hair as the others, so it was impossible to tell if it was one of the same ones they’d fought in the Vale. At least until the bastard began to use whatever hell-cursed power Rowena’s corruption had caused. That was the only way to really tell the fuckers apart.
The General lifted a pale hand, small gusts of wind lifting the oily strands of his hair. Ronan was already making his way over to him, knowing how fatal they could be once they got going. Rowena’s man saw him and grinned, using a skeletal finger to beckon him closer. Ronan’s brows lowered, and his lips curled in a menacing smile.
Game.
Fucking.
On.
He had already been a self-contained tornado of activity, his weapon swinging almost without pause, but after that taunt Ronan was unleashed. He used his shoulders, weapon, and fists to mow over anyone standing in his way, littering the ground with corpses and clearing the distance between them in a matter of moments. Just as Ronan’s ax was about to swing true, the General laughed and vanished.
Snarling, Ronan spun around to see where he’d gone. Slippery fucker must control Air. That was going to make things more difficult.
The General was a good distance away, waving at Ronan before lifting his hand and circling his wrist. The dirt around him began to lift in the air, spinning around him faster and faster until it obscured him completely. The dust storm swelled in size, standing at least two times taller than Ronan himself, before the General released it by pushing it into a group of Chosen. The men and women flew back, flying through the air before falling down, some impaled on pieces of debris while others were killed by the force of their impact with the ground.
Ronan saw red as a murderous rage filled him. Pulling on every ounce of his power, Ronan launched himself into the air, lifting his ax above his head. The General watched him move through the sky. Winking, he vanished once more, half a second before Ronan’s blade would have made contact with his face.
His weapon landed first, missing its mark. Ronan was next, landing in a crouched position that spared his body the effects of the impact. With a grunt he stood, pulling his weapon out of the earth, where it had gotten buried halfway up its hilt. Had the General still been standing there, he would have been rent in two.
There was nothing fun about the game of cat and mouse the Air General was playing with him. Ronan’s frustration grew, his blood surging through his body as his heart pounded like a drum. This was more than just war now; it was personal.
The General laughed as he watched Ronan make his way toward him for the third ti
me. However, this time he did not wait until the Shield was close before he blinked away. Ronan slammed his fist into one of the few wooden outer buildings that was still intact. The wood cracked, snapping in half and falling into the center of the building. The straw roof teetered at the loss of support before sliding down after it.
If he was going to capture the man, he needed to be smarter. Ronan stood still, letting his eyes follow the General’s progress as he created more of his dust storms. There was no discernable pattern, the General moved freely, wanting only to create as much destruction as possible. The mass of bodies had definitely dwindled since the fighting had begun. There were no more groups of people, only small, scattered clusters. Expect for one.
The Chosen’s ranged team was still fully intact, having remained separate from the bulk of the fighting. If the General continued as he had been, they would likely be one of his next targets. Ronan zeroed in on the group. Miranda was standing closest to the edge, her face scrunched in concentration as she cast spell after spell. Ronan moved into her line of sight, trying to get her attention without alerting the General of his intention.
Using his blade and a nearby fire, Ronan aimed a beam of light toward the Keeper. Miranda flinched, her eyes squinting as she searched for the source of the light. Her eyes widened with surprise when she found Ronan standing still and staring up at her.
Once they had established eye contact, Ronan very purposefully turned his head toward the direction of the General and then back toward her. She followed his gaze, nodding in understanding when her eyes returned to him. Ronan didn’t wait, trusting her to act on the knowledge.
Miranda didn’t disappoint. She shouted something unintelligible to the others. Not long after, the group directed their attacks toward the General. Bolts of fire and lighting began to rain upon him, even as he blinked his way across the field. Finally catching on to their targeted attack, the General gave them a sinister smile and vanished.
Ronan used the distraction to conceal his race to the bottom of the ledge. He was just about to ascend when a glint of silver caught his eye. He crouched down, finding a discarded Endoshan blade. Ronan grinned, carefully picking it up. Perfect.
When he scaled the top of the ledge, the General had already beat him there. He’d created a wall of Air that held all the others within its center. He spared only a second to look at those held within. Inside, Timmins raged, his face nearly purple from his screams. The Advisor was throwing his fists against the invisible barrier as if he could break it down with the sheer force of his will. Joquil stood beside him, his eyes narrowed in concentration and his lips moving fast as he tried to counteract the powerful magic. But the thing that had captured his attention was what the General was doing to Miranda.
The Keeper was held up in the Air as if strung up by a rope, her hands clawing at her throat as the General called the breath out of her lungs. Miranda’s feet flailed as she gasped and struggled to breathe. He was suffocating her with his magic. Ronan’s blood ran cold. Not again.
The General’s back was turned, so Ronan lunged, his borrowed blade ready to strike just as Miranda’s eyes rolled back in her head and her struggling ceased.
“No!” Ronan roared, blindly swinging the poisoned blade. He didn’t care where he hit the bastard, only that he cut through the skin. The poison would do the rest.
The blade sliced through the decayed-looking skin of the General’s shoulder down to the bone, narrowly missing his neck. The pungent smell of rotting flesh met Ronan’s nose as the General’s arm swung limply at his side. Ronan had already recovered from the first attack and was prepared to strike again, even though he knew the poison had already entered the bloodstream. It was just a matter of time before the General met his final death.
But he didn’t.
Miranda’s body dropped to the ground, looking like a pile of discarded rags as the General turned his full attention onto Ronan. With another gaping grin, the General lifted his skeletal hand and shot the full force of his power into Ronan.
His lungs were on fire. Ronan gasped for breath, the blade dropping, forgotten from his hands as he struggled to breathe. He felt his booted feet begin to leave the ground, his toes scrambling for purchase. There was no relief. Dark spots began to dance in the corners of his vision.
Nonsensical thoughts began to flash in his mind, even as he continued to gasp like a fish out of water. Until there was only one.
Not like this. Mother’s tits, it couldn’t end like this.
Chapter Twelve
Kragen and Helena stumbled outside, the night sky painted a burnt orange due to the reflection of the flames. Helena’s eyes immediately began to scan the horizon; she did not have to wait long to find what she was looking for.
Von was at her side almost instantly, using his power to blink off Midnight’s back and over to her. His arms were around her, pulling her body against his before she had time to open her mouth.
“If you ever do anything that stupid again, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” she teased, feeling more worn out than she cared to admit. Despite the influx of Von’s power, she’d drained herself much more deeply than she had thought. It would likely take her a few days to fully recover.
“Think of something,” he muttered gruffly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She knew that it was his fear talking, she could feel it like a jagged edge scratching their bond. She had scared him, and he didn’t quite know what to do with the feeling.
“I’m okay,” she said aloud, for both men’s benefit. “I promise.”
Kragen was still looking at her with worried eyes, despite the number of assurances she’d given him.
Starshine landed beside Midnight and huffed, drawing Helena’s attention over to her. As she turned her head, a figure climbing up the side of the cliff had her heart lurching in her chest. He was heading right toward the ranged group.
“Not so fast,” Helena growled, her fatigue forgotten as the need to defend took over. “Let’s finish this,” she said to the others, squeezing her Mate’s hand a final time before walking over to her Talyrian and climbing up.
Kragen gave a wave and took off at a run to join their people in battle.
Von was right behind Helena, vaulting up on Midnight in one fluid motion.
Starshine took flight, covering the distance quickly. As they closed in, the shock of red hair became clear, and Helena’s eyes grew wide as she realized her mistake. The figure who had crested the ledge wasn’t the threat, the skeletal man facing him was. Horror filled her as she watched Ronan levitate off the ground, a weapon slipping from his fingers as his feet swung helplessly.
Not again. She would not lose another of her Circle to these evil bastards.
Helena opened her mouth on a scream of absolute rage, the sky echoing her fury with jagged bolts of lightning and the answering crack of thunder. It sounded like the world was being split in two as Starshine and Helena streaked toward her Shield.
She drew on her power, preparing to unleash it on the General, but Starshine beat her to the kill. With a mighty roar, the Talyrian Queen swooped low, her jaws snapping closed over the General’s head. She never stopped, flying a few feet away before landing and spitting out the General’s head with a hiss. She pawed at her face, wiping away the smears of black blood that coated her otherwise pristine fur.
Helena scrambled off the Talyrian’s back, rushing over to her friends. A distraught Timmins was on his hands and knees, Joquil next to him, trying to pull him up. Her Shield had fallen when the General’s hold on him was released. Von had already dismounted and was beside the very pale Ronan, trying to help him sit up, but he was having none of it and was slapping her Mate’s hands away with a scowl.
As relieved as she was to see that they were all well, her heart felt heavy as she knelt beside Miranda’s corpse. Even in death, the Keeper looked younger than she did. Helena closed her eyes, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill over.
“Moth
er, welcome your daughter with open arms,” she whispered, before standing and facing the others.
“This ends now.”
Rowena paced beside her new husband, her hands twitching with agitation. That little upstart had tricked her. A full-fledged war was currently underway in her courtyard. That was unacceptable.
“I thought your warriors were supposed to be unstoppable!” she snapped.
“Flesh is not immune to fire, My Queen. The Talyrians were an unexpected obstacle.”
“They are no less immune to your blades. Perhaps you should try using them.”
Kai-Soren’s lips folded in a flat line, displeasure barely concealed in his golden eyes.
“I see just as many Chosen corpses,” he pointed out.
Rowena’s eyes narrowed, her eyes blazing with blue fire. “I lost another General tonight. No amount of lives will justify that death.”
“You have four others in your service.”
She opened her mouth to point out the obvious and stopped herself. The less he knew, the better.
“There’s one now,” Kai-Soren said, gesturing toward the courtyard. Her General was blinking around, setting off dust storms that were clearing the battlefield of fighting men, if not of their resulting corpses.
A small smile reached her lips. At least someone was finding success this night. The fewer people left to fight for her enemy, the better.
“You would do well to release the others. They will finish this.”
“And risk losing all of them?”
“They are your most powerful weapon, My Queen. They should be fighting.”
Rowena weighed the risk against her desire to win. “Perhaps just one more,” she decided, signaling for the General she referred to as Pestilence to come over. He reached her side, bringing with him the scent of decayed earth.
