by Aaron Crash
Silas charged forward, jaws opening. “Your bitches might kill us, but you’re powerless. You’re mine.”
“Are you sure about that?” Steven made a fist, and liquid Morta dripped from his fingers even as an evil shadow covered him.
Chapter Two
WHEN THE JAWS OF SILAS von Forcade snapped down, Steven wasn’t there. He’d vanished in a splash of ichor, traveling through the dark threads of reality using Transvexri. For now, it was limited line-of-sight teleportation, but Steven thought he could expand on that. Heridan could basically travel anywhere in the world, and she too was learning how to use the ultimate Morta ability to travel across the universe.
He reappeared behind Silas, standing on the slickrock. He thrust his hands forward, and BlackBlood spikes speared into the Prussian Prime’s back legs. Steven then whirled the liquid Morta into a shield so the incoming bullets and Impetim spells bounced off the hardened Morta.
Silas shrieked in pain, whirled, and then froze as Steven took hold of the Dragonlord’s core with Leeze. He channeled the Dragonlord’s Animus into his Morta.
Rage blinded Steven, and he knew it was the evil energy in him, and he didn’t care. “You, Silas, have no idea what I am and what I can do. I warned you. I warned you all, and you were too fucking stupid to listen.”
Steven used Corropor to take hold of Silas’s consciousness, and then he forced the Prussian dragon to breathe fire onto his own vassals. The flames were lost in the glare of the sun, but they could all smell the Morphlings frying.
Nefrinasia rolled up next to Steven with a brand-new bow in her hand. It had cost nearly two thousand dollars, but the black Hoyt Carbon RX-3 was cheap compared to her last weapon. Could you really a hang price tag on the Hellstring? Probably not.
Tessa had enchanted some delicious arrows for the Shadow Archer to use. Nefri fired a shaft into a collection of Warlings, and the head hit like a mortar shell. Bodies were sent flying. The dark elf smiled at him, her dark blue face shining with sweat, her white hair pulled back into a ponytail.
The huge enemy Kodiak thundered toward them. A steel weight on a length of chain struck the Morphling’s face, and then Uchiko appeared out of nowhere to sling the links around the bear’s throat. Fueled by SerpentGrace, she cranked on the chain like a woman-powered bandsaw, cutting its throat.
Tessa had given Uchiko a little boost for her favorite weapon. As she spun it, crackling electricity appeared around the links, growing in intensity, until the ninja Warling slammed the weight into an incoming Dragonlord. The copper-and-brown body of Kumaglak Shaw shook uncontrollably from the electrical attack. His vassals around him also danced, their system overloaded. Some dropped, their skin cooked. Others fled. Uchiko sped forward and sank the sickle on her chain into Shaw’s chest.
The Canadian dragon wasn’t dead yet. He staggered back, and three of the Shadow Archer’s arrows hit him in the chest... fire, ice, and more lightning.
Uchiko dropped back to join Steven and Nefri. The ninja and the archer had brought a third person into their close friendship, and that was the former Prosha of the Zothoric Myriad, Tara Heridan.
Heridan rose in a wave of BlackBlood, gleaming wetly in the blazing sun. Naked, Heridan’s hands and feet ended in claws. Black chitin covered her shoulders, neck, and head. She had her horns instead of her inky hair. Her eyes were onyx marbles of malice. “Don’t you two be having fun without me!”
Steven felt the chaos and rage inside the woman, and it was amazing it hadn’t totally driven her insane. Well, Nefri and Uchiko were helping her. As was Haru, one of the Onari Guard, but in a rather odd kind of way.
“She does kind of have that sexy demon bug thing going.” Mouse laughed from behind Steven. The petite blonde raced away to cross swords with another Warling, a warrior with a gleaming elven sword. Elves. As Mouse fenced with the Warling, Steven felt a moment of unease. What were these rebel Dragonlords doing with elven weapons from Aqualyra?
Heridan ended Kumaglak Shaw’s life with a BlackBlood spear through his chest. He fell forward. Heridan’s eyes flashed as she absorbed the dragon’s Animus and converted it into Morta.
Tessa stood surrounded by two pink shield spells, guns out, both loaded with explosive rounds. She gave each bullet the spice of her IonClaws, powerful Pugna magic.
Her guns flashed as she took down Dragonsoul after Dragonsoul. But she was killing the females, not the males, who were holding back after seeing Silas taken over and Kumaglak killed.
Normally, Tessa would’ve known to concentrate on the males, but the Dragon Slayer in her had taken over. She couldn’t think clearly, and every kill only added to her power. The Animus radiating from inside her turned her eyes into pink jewels; her cherry fragrance was so sweet it was stifling.
Heridan kept bullets and spells off Steven’s Escort with her BlackBlood tentacles while Nefri peppered their enemies with arrows. Uchiko had her own ranged weapon, not a compound bow, but a simple white bow. She joined her friend in firing arrows. Nefri had left Blackfoot at home with Sabina. The puppy had grown into a full-sized wolf, but he wasn’t ready for combat just yet.
Two pink Homo Draconi flew through the sky. One of the dragon women was armed with a big belt-fed machine gun, ammo belt dangling. The other held two streetsweepers, one in each hand. Those shotguns, with drums underneath, had been sawed down to twelve inches so the spray would be wide. Each pull of the trigger would fling shot, and the drum would revolve to give Chazzie another shell.
Pru had the machine gun. Each round was packed with an enchanted punch.
Both opened fire, not aiming for the underlings but the for big males in the back. And when one of the enemy dragons opened their mouth to bathe them in fire, the twins would teleport thanks to the vambraces on their arms, another gift from Icharaam.
Arl Eguardo Horvat tried to fry them with lightning and the twins just laughed, blasting into his scales, riddling his body with rounds and blowing out chunks of his flesh. He went down, and the twins turned their guns on other dragons.
Steven wasn’t going to let them take his kill. He flicked his hands and sent Silas into Brazzos Reich. The Prussian beast clawed into the surprised South American dragon.
Brazzos roared, “I thought you would be the one to kill me, Steven Drokharis!”
“I am killing you, moron.” Steven forced Silas to rip the throat out of the monster who’d done Abner Savedra a lifetime of wrongs.
Aria dropped and landed on the silver-green back of Qian Shinji. Aria used her own BlackBlood tentacles to hold the enemy dragon in place. She opened her mouth and breathed dark flames onto him. It wasn’t the Inferno Exhalant, and it wasn’t ShadowFlame, but a mixture of fire and liquid Morta. Once it coated someone, the fire burned until all the Morta was gone.
Mouse and Tessa had a variety of names they wanted to call Aria’s strange breath. Options included Napalm Victory, Fire Jism, Flame Nasty, Oil of Flambé, and Apocalypse Bitch. Aria hadn’t liked any of those options. They went with the simple Black Napalm.
Thirteen, aka Old Blood and Guts, aka Aria Khat, didn’t have as much power as she’d had with her Animus core, but the powers she did have were surprising. Even her Animus Daggers weren’t the same.
The burning napalm ate through Qian Shinji’s head, through his skull, and into his brain.
Enrique Pescalarez flew in from above, breathing ArcticWind onto Steven, the dark elf, the ninja, and Heridan. Cold shook them and they iced over, taking damage.
It was a nice attack until Zoey, wearing her armor, was sent flying through the air, flung by Skylar Blacke. The eldest widow was flanked by Abby Free and Michaela Montes, both as full-sized dragons. Michaela had platinum scales with black edges, while Abby Free had a dark copper frame. Her arms and legs were bright yellow.
The armored bear hit Pescalarez and latched on.
“No, that fucker is mine!” Abby snarled. She had a bad history with the Dragonlord of the Yucatan Primacy. He’d owned her at one point.
Abby Free hit Pescalarez, dragon striking dragon, and knocked Zoey off. Michaela rescued Zoey from falling. The bear girl deactivated her armor and shifted human. The platinum dragon made sure she landed okay.
Pescalarez was no match for Abby Free, who too easily became a berserker on the battlefield—once she started killing, it was hard for her to stop.
She and Tessa had that in common. Tessa’s face showed her glee as her Colts boomed, over and over, each one an IonGun, opening holes in dragons.
Only two of the seven rogue Primes were still alive, Silas von Forcade and Mronki Kyeel. Silas had lost his dragon shape, unable to maintain it because Steven was stealing his Animus. He was a naked man on the hot rock, bent over, breathing hard, barely conscious. His elven sword lay in its sheath on the rock.
With a quick advanced Incanto cantrip, Steven dispelled the magic on the stasis bracelet and flung it away. Steven was free to use his Animus-based magic.
As for Mronki, he was wheeling backward, trying to get away.
There was a certain amber dragon that was never going to let that happen. She flew after him, got above him, and then shifted form. Mouse landed on him as a human. She rammed the Slayer Blade into the African dragon’s back. She stabbed him again and again until she found his heart.
And then the petite blonde rode the beast down until he smashed into the rock. At the last minute, Mouse shifted and flew away, adding another kill to her long list.
Even with all of the rogue dragons dead or disabled, Steven knew Tessa wasn’t going to stop. Nor would Abby Free.
Abby’s yellow arms were flecked with blood. She left the corpse of Enrique Pescalarez and breathed fire onto the retreating vassals of the dead dragons. Other enemy wives were attempting to fight back but the onslaught was vicious. At this point, the bloodshed was unnecessary.
Skylar Blacke, however, was about to be overrun. The widow had no choice but to shift into her True Form, black and auburn. She exhaled ChromaticFury in a reality-crushing crescendo of light, noise, and energy. Several of the female dragons were turned to ash in the Exhalant, along with some Warlings.
Steven used Connexra to link his mind with Heridan, Nefri, and Aria. The four of them were the Morta creatures of their little family.
We have to subdue Tessa and Abby with BlackBlood, he sent to them. Only the wives are left. We don’t need to kill them all.
Heridan captured two female dragons in a wall of BlackBlood. They were stuck there, like lizards caught in cement. She then used Leeze to wipe out the cores of another two females. Finally, she used Corropor to turn another Dragonsoul into a statue.
Aria winged her way over to Abby Free. The Indian dragon summoned up her Morta and trapped Abby in it, like a mosquito in amber. Aria, dark and oozing ichor, was a sight to see, like a demon dragon rising out of a drippy black hell.
Nefri sped over to Tessa, freezing the barista in place.
A shadow flashed by Steven, just darkness and orange trails glowing. He dodged the strike, though the spear caught his T-shirt and ripped a big hole in it.
Umbra. He’d forgotten about Umbra.
He reached for her core with Leeze, but she was moving too fast. How was that even possible?
“Fuck this,” he spat. “Magica Divinatio!”
He was taken from the present and sent into the past, and there, he saw a girl in the mountains far to the south. Those were the Andes, and this girl had grown up with sweet parents until they were destroyed by an enemy Dragonsoul. Her life would never again be her own.
Umbra wasn’t her name then. It was Sir Bedivere, one of the Dragonknights, who had named her. Bedivere would later be known as Roy Right, the Dragonlord of the Sin Cities Primacy.
Umbra had wanted to be more than just another wife. She’d wanted to be a warrior, and so, Sir Bedivere had consulted with his then friend, Merlin, before Merlin’s fall into insanity, before Merlin became the Dragon Slayer.
Umbra had her very bones enchanted with SerpentGrace. The spellwork had nearly killed her. And it forever altered how she saw her Primes. They weren’t just her husband; they were her entire life.
Losing Bedivere had nearly destroyed her. And there was no way she’d ever forgive Steven for murdering the most important person in her life.
Steven was sent from the past back to the present and then into the future.
He sat at a green table, playing poker with his foster father, Joe Whipp, and some other men. And something else... a presence. It wasn’t Morta, no, and it wasn’t Animus. It was something else.
Simply seeing his father again, with a cigar in his mouth and cards in his hand, was enough to knock Steven off balance.
He was back on the slickrock plain, dizzy, trying to blink the sweat out of his eyes. Why would he ever be with his father at a poker game?
Steven couldn’t stop shaking. He had to focus and stop Umbra. He flung out a hand to grab hold of the Incan woman, either with Leeze, AnimusChain, or ShadowStrength. He was too rattled by the vision. She was too fast. And she was coming right at him.
He had to stop her before it was too late. She didn’t need to die.
Tessa’s thoughts invaded his. No, Steven, I’m not stopping. She had her chance to join us, but it’s pretty fucking clear she’s a bad guy. We have to put her down.
He glanced to his left. Tessa was like a living statue, caught in solidified Morta. Both pistols were free of the black concrete, but it wasn’t like she could aim them.
Heridan sent Morta tentacles at Umbra, but the Incan woman dodged them, racing toward Steven.
Pru flew over, her shotguns blasting, and still, Umbra outmaneuvered every splash of lead. Tracers from Chazzie’s machine gun chipped away rock and threw up dust, but none of the bullets could bring the speedster down. Umbra merely outran them. Zoey lumbered forward, but she was easy to avoid.
Michaela Montes breathed fire, but Umbra merely ran through the flames.
No one could grab her.
Both Nefri’s and Uchiko’s arrows clacked behind Umbra.
The shadow ran forward, her arm back to throw the spear into Steven’s chest. He tried to bring up a Defensio spell, or BlackBlood, anything. He tried to Transvexri away, but again, he couldn’t concentrate.
“Magica Porta!” Tessa shouted. Then? A single gunshot.
A fiery doorway appeared behind Umbra. A flash of pink light erupted from the portal, and Tessa’s bullet brought Umbra down. The Incan woman stumbled and fell, the spear clattering against the stone.
She rolled to a stop at Steven’s feet. He fell to his knees.
The naked woman’s eyes were open but unseeing. As for her chest, a smoking hole was where her heart used to be.
Steven closed Umbra’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t be angry at Tessa. She’d saved his life. He’d never had a Divination spell affect him that way. Nearly losing his Animus core nine months before might have something to do with that. Or maybe he was still furious at his father for abandoning his family, though after Steven’s many victories, he rarely thought about his foster father.
Could it be that mysterious presence at the poker game? Maybe that was it.
Steven bent and picked up the spear. He walked over to where Silas von Forcade lay on his back, sweating.
Steven’s Escort was rounding up the vassals, the Warlings, the Morphlings, and the Magicians as well as the wives of the fallen rogue Dragonlords.
Silas looked up into Steven’s face. “So, now I die?”
“Not yet,” Steven said. “Tell me about Umbra’s spear. Tell me about that sword you never got to use.”
“I won’t say a word to you. Not ever!” Silas flung himself to the side, somehow getting the Animus for SerpentGrace. He had that sword out, and he launched himself at Steven.
Steven had no choice. He plunged the spear into the chest of the Prus
sian Dragonlord. The burst of Animus from the kill enveloped Steven, and he closed his eyes to enjoy it. He hoped it would be the last time he’d ever gain Animus from killing someone. There were ways to gather Animus that were far more pleasant.
His conquest of the world was finished. He could now implement his many plans to change everything about life on the blue-green gem.
There was no one else to defy him except for one Dragonlord in India. Rhakshor Khat might be a problem, but Steven hoped against hope he’d leave. Killing Aria’s father would be unfortunate, but no more difficult than what he’d done that day.
Chapter Three
EVERYTHING HAD CHANGED for Quinnestri, former queen of Eleesia and Deneel, former queen of all Aqualyra. Everything was different about her, inside and out.
She walked down the hot, dry stretch of Wyoming asphalt and wondered about a word. Hitchhiking. She knew what a hitch was, and she knew what hiking was, but she wasn’t clear on a word that put them together.
Then again, this modern English language was a mixture of slang, vulgarities, and very specific cultural references.
She liked the sex acts aspect of the language, especially the slang. Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck me running. What in the mother fucking fuck?
She was a little baffled that cocksucker was a derogatory thing to say to someone. She was a cocksucker, but nevertheless, she was a mighty Lyran queen.
Or had been.
Her doubts, her mistakes, her guilt all made that impossible.
She stopped walking. A constant buzzing filled the hot air around her. Were those insects? What kind of bugs did this world have? It was a dry, barren place, full of yellow weeds and tangled gray-green shrubbery. Sagebrush, something Steven Drokharis loved. During her time there before, she’d watched a movie, another piece of technology, where rolling bundles of weeds went traveling across the desolate plain. Those were called tumbleweeds, and they were not native to the continent.
