The Warlord

by Gena Showalter

  From the sidelines, Erebus taunts, “Time ticks away, Roc. Do you wish to acquire the blessing or the curse? You decide...”

  Her stomach churned faster as she zoomed her gaze to her husband.

  Roc lifts the bride off her feet—by the throat. She flails and kicks, fighting for freedom, for life.

  “You have pitted us against one another, making our Commander—our brother—despise us,” Roc snarls at the woman. “You aren’t his family! We are.”

  Her eyes bug, her face molting. “Love...him.”

  “How can you love the man who once planned to kill you?”

  Similar to the words he’d spoken to Taliyah only minutes ago.

  From somewhere in the battle zone, Ian shouts, “Ten seconds remain, Roc. Strike!”

  “Roc! No! Please! Do not do this,” Solar screams.

  “Do it,” Erebus urges. “You know what happens if you fail. You activate the curse—you activate me.”

  “Five seconds,” Ian yells, panicked.

  “Roc! Please. I beg of you. I love her.” Solar’s hoarse voice cracks. Realizing he cannot fight his way to his woman in time, he drops to his knees, uncaring what becomes of him. “I love her. Please.”

  Still Erebus taunts him. “Three. Two...”

  Roc grips the woman’s neck so tightly, blood vessels burst in her eyes. The molting worsens as her mouth flounders open and closed. Gray spreads over her skin. Before she finishes turning into stone, he roars, grips her hair with his free hand and yanks. Her head detaches, taking her spine with it.

  “Nooo!” Solar shouts, reaching for her.

  By the time her pieces hit the ground, she’s fully stone and already ashing.

  Erebus laughs and laughs and laughs. “Her death came too late. She died, and you’re cursed anyway.”

  The other Astra focus on the jubilant god, raising their weapons. But as they rush for him, the phantoms come alive, swarming the entire group of warlords. Their weapons fail, swords break and daggers shatter before contact. The men trip over their own feet, barely able to remain upright. Solar is swarmed.

  A blood-coated Roc rushes toward his Commander. As soon as Solar notices his approach, he jumps up, swinging a sword.

  Roc dodges and unsheathes a sword of his own. Metal clangs against metal as he meets Solar’s next strike. There’s a wild, grief-stricken glaze in the male’s eyes.

  “You killed her,” Solar snarls. “You killed my Allanah.”

  “I thought to spare you from... I hoped to spare us all. I...”

  Solar launches a second attack. Roc blocks and returns a blow. They are predators, and they make no mistakes between them. Unlike the others, they encounter no problems with faulty weapons, every strike true. They fight with sublime skill, exuding a rare mastery of their bodies, each able to predict his opponent’s every move and adjust his stance accordingly.

  Two bears locked in a cage, neither willing to retreat.

  “I don’t wish to kill you, Solar.”

  “If you hope to survive this day, you’ll have to.”

  “I did what I thought was right!”

  “Because you saw no other way. But I did! Why didn’t you trust me?”

  They scream the accusations at each other, Solar’s combat growing more vicious. They move so quickly, wounds seem to appear out of nowhere. A gash here. Swelling or a bruise there. Neither male heals. Because of the curse?

  Roc releases his weapons long enough to slash with his claws, then crouches to catch the daggers before they ever hit the ground. He stabs his friend, his Commander, in both of his thighs.

  Solar stumbles, and Roc presses his advantage, moving behind him and placing a dagger at the hollow of his throat.

  Erebus claps, as if he’s witnessing a sporting event, his team winning. His phantoms rip through the Astra with ease.

  The man in the black robe displays no emotion. The women at his sides sob.

  Between harsh pants, Roc pleads, “Don’t make me do this, Commander. You won’t recover.”

  “I’m no longer your Commander, and I’m no longer your brother.” Solar laughs, crazed, blood staining his teeth. He continues to hold the sword, the tip resting in the ground. “The curse is indeed upon us. Can you feel it? I’ve lost my love, and with my death, so will you. You, the challenge winner, will take my place as leader. You’ll become the one to wed and slay the virgin bride. One day, you’ll find your gravita. If you don’t kill her, Erebus or your men will do it for you, and my pain will become yours. Enjoy it with my compliments, Roc.”

  With that, Solar swings his sword, the tip arching up. His head flies off his neck, his body turning to stone as it topples.

  As Roc falters with shock, blood pours and spurts from severed arteries. Half his hand is missing.

  Taliyah was panting as the real world replaced the memory. A flush seared her cheeks and hot tears slicked down her cheeks.

  Roc peered at her, the torment in his eyes tangled with a toxic mix of grief, guilt, sorrow and regret. Because he’d killed his Commander’s wife. Because he’d killed his leader. Because Solar’s prediction had come true.

  No wonder he’d refused to sympathize with any of his brides. Deep down, he’d feared this very thing. Of living Solar’s nightmare.

  “Now you know my shame,” he said, his tone flat.

  “Yes.” He’d gone to great lengths to avoid the curse, and he’d still failed. He would always go to great lengths. That he’d pleaded with Chaos to be with Taliyah, well, it meant tons. But in the end, he would take her life if necessary. “Now I know.”

  33

  Just love her.

  His sister’s parting words played on repeat within Roc’s head, causing an excruciating tightness in his broken chest. Far worse than ever before. He felt as if someone had wrapped barbed wire around his heart and now squeezed the life from him one drop of blood at a time.

  He did love Taliyah. He knew that now, the truth as bright as she was, chasing darkness from the deepest corners of his mind. She’d become a part of him. The most important part. To have her in his arms every night...to awaken with her every morning...to witness her battles and protect her when she required it...to spar with her, talk with her, tease her...to anticipate what she would say or do and always end up surprised...

  He would do anything.

  From the beginning, she’d given him her best. He’d only shown her his worst. That needed to change.

  Perched on his lap, she said, “Tell me everything about the blessing, and I mean everything. Leave out no detail, even those you consider dangerous for a bride—”

  “Wife,” he corrected.

  “—to know.”

  Very well. He would do anything she asked. He explained how everything worked. How Halo would begin his task upon the completion of Roc’s, then Silver after him. The order depended on the rank.

  “So nine tasks in total. Nine chances for Erebus to initiate the curse.”

  He toyed with the ends of her hair. “He strikes at us in varying ways. Sometimes to cause failure. Sometimes simply to torment. If one of us fails, all other tasks are moot, and his fun is over, which is why he mostly toys with us and strikes at Ian the hardest.”

  “Why do people stand around watching the sacrifice?”

  “They serve as witnesses. On the thirtieth day of our marriage, the trinite wall comes down early in the morning. Soon after, Chaos arrives.” Must save my sisters from the god.

  “Chaos,” Taliyah muttered. “Of course.”

  “Erebus attends, as well. He brings his army, but no one is allowed to act against us once the ceremony starts. Anyone who attacks the participants dies before a blow ever lands. When the ceremony is complete, a battle always breaks out.”

  “But I saw you and your men fighting during the ceremony, when the bride still liv
ed.”

  “We are participants. We can fight whenever we want.”

  Pensive, she tapped her bottom lip. “What kind of sword killed Solar?”

  “Firstone.”

  “Like the stones the phantoms brought here?”

  He nodded. “Firstone swords kill other gods as well as mere immortals. Most beings are vulnerable to firstone. After Solar’s death, we labored to eliminate any trace of it. We thought we’d succeeded.”

  “So I can kill you with firstone, and you can kill me with trinite and firstone.”

  A denial rushed to his lips—a lie. He barely stopped its breakout. “I cannot halt the ceremony unless I ascend. I cannot ascend until I make a proper sacrifice. I refuse to kill you. I refuse to curse my men. I don’t know what to do,” he repeated.

  “You and me both.” With a sigh, she hopped to her feet to prepare for the day ahead. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’m cleaning up, then going to the library to study.”

  His chest squeezed tighter. Did she want to escape him? “I’d like to spend the day with you.” The altar could wait. If he ever returned to it. Resentment flared. “If you welcome me?” Please, welcome me.

  “Sure,” she said, and he exhaled. “But you’re going to have to be on your best behavior. You must resist my irresistible appeal.”

  She teases me? An agonized smile broke out. “Taya, I’m afraid that’s the one thing I cannot do.”

  They showered, and for the first time in thousands of years, Roc left the alevala over his heart intact. Once they’d dressed, he escorted her to the library, where they sat at opposite sides of a table. As he read the passages she slid his way, he rejected them as the answer to their problems.

  Yesterday, she’d gifted him with her virginity, willing to fight time-honored traditions on his behalf. She’d given him so much. But what had he given her? Grief. A possible promise of death.

  After hours of scouring, he sent a quick message to Vasili, then tugged Taliyah to her feet. Her beauty never failed to mesmerize him. In a tight black T-shirt that ended well before her navel, and shorts made of a tough blue material known as denim, she nearly stopped his heart. Pale skin flushed for him.

  “Be my precious and pause your studies? I have a gift for you,” he said.

  Never, not in the whole of his life, could he have predicted her reaction. Squealing, she pushed him back into his chair and straddled his lap, making his chair skid back. “A gift for me? Gimme! Immediately. I’ll be your precious!”

  The tightness in his chest dissipated completely. I will give this woman a gift every day for the rest of her life.

  All thirteen days of it.

  The thought torched what happiness he’d rallied.

  “Roc! My gift. I believe I mentioned I wanted it immediately.” She bounced against him. “Is it a sword? I bet it’s a sword. I love it already.”

  “Give your husband a kiss first.” Would she do it, or would she challenge him?

  She smiled down at him. “If you want a kiss, baby, you’re going to have to take it.”

  With pleasure. He clasped her nape and brought her mouth to his. The sweetness of her taste drove him wild. She is...home.

  As he thrust his tongue against hers, he stood with her in his arms and flashed her into the duplicate realm. The master suite, to be exact, where he’d stored the nine-and eight-star contenders for General. There were twenty-four in total. There were over a hundred others with one to seven stars. Those females he’d placed in the surrounding rooms.

  He ended the kiss reluctantly, brushed the tip of his nose against hers and set her on her feet. “Behold. Your gift.”

  For a moment, she remained captivated by him, leering at his lips and licking her own. The sight of her aroused him painfully, even as he grinned, so pleased with her he could burst.

  Her attention veered, and she caught sight of the harpies. Mouth agape, she spun. “The duplicate realm.” She clapped while jumping up and down. “Oh, Roc! I do love it.” She rushed from cot to cot, touching faces and patting hands. “Wake them up. Come on, come on. Wake them up, and I’ll do dirty things with you later.”

  “Do you attempt to bribe the Commander of the Astra, wife?” How he managed to deadpan the question he might never know.

  “Yes! But full disclosure, I plan to do dirty things to you regardless. I have to. Your kiss was begging for it.”

  Every inch of him begged for it.

  “Hey! Everyone here is vying for the title of General. I didn’t notice that detail with the crystal. Why are they together like this?”

  Oh. That. He pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Each of my men selected a potential bride for me. They chose from the surrounding rooms.”

  “You have eight men. There were ten harpies in the throne room.”

  Her tone had sharpened. Did Taliyah think he’d chosen the other two? Was she...jealous? “I’m supposed to pick the woman I’m most attracted to, which is usually the most bloodthirsty.” He’d always enjoyed a good challenge, and he must admit, he’d always experienced disappointment when the bride gave up and accepted her lot. “Ian and Halo discovered my preoccupation with a certain blonde, blue-eyed harpy-snake, so they selected two in her image.”

  “Tell me when and how you first noticed me.” She climbed into a cot and stretched out beside a harpy with sable hair and skin a shade lighter. “Go on.”

  “I saw you at the market. I wanted you.”

  She wrinkled her brows. “That’s it? How shallow of you, Astra. I, at least, observed how scary you were before I admired the battering ram in your pants.”

  He barked out a laugh. How he loved this playful side of her personality. Few had the privilege of experiencing it. “You want the harpies woken up, Taya. So be it.” He made a few mental adjustments to the air that flowed into the room. Right on cue, the females began to stir.

  Some stretched, others moaned. Most threw fists around as they lumbered to their feet.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” Taliyah called. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

  Roc was spotted, and every harpy leaped up, assuming a battle position. Hisses and the most vicious threats were tossed in his direction.

  “No one touches him,” Taliyah screeched. Everyone went silent, every gaze swinging her way. “You want to fight with him later, fine, go for it. Until we’ve killed Erebus Phantom, the commander of the Astra Planeta is your best friend.”

  Shouts rang out. “Nissa is dead.”

  “He tore her to pieces.”

  “I lost my beautiful hands!”

  “Yes,” Taliyah said with a dry tone, “I’m familiar with his fighting style.” She stalked to his side in a show of support. “We have no General. We need one, and I’m it. No, don’t say a word. Just listen. You’ve all read reports about Erebus from the women who came before you. You know our people couldn’t stop him as he ravaged our villages. Well, good and bad news. He’s back, and I’m his daughter. I’m also the wife of his greatest enemy, and the reason you’re awake right now. If anyone or everyone wants to challenge me for the title of General once Erebus is dead, I encourage it. In fact, I’ll insist on it.”

  As she spoke, his chest puffed up with an infusion of arrogance. There was no gravita more amazing.

  After receiving nods and grudging acceptance, she smiled up at Roc with expectation. “We’re ready to return to Harpina now.”

  * * *

  The harpies with stars took over the palace in the original realm, and Taliyah loved it. Roc had also freed the ones in the dungeon, and she’d taken charge right away. So far, everyone had followed her orders, as promised. Even Mara. Roc and his guys were a little traumatized, though.

  To everyone’s surprise, the two groups—Astra army versus harpies—got along well...mostly. There’d only been a few dozen
losses on Roc’s side. So hardly any at all! She wanted her girls to know what they were up against, so she sent them to train and patrol during the day and battle as needed.

  Yeah, Erebus kept sending new hordes of phantoms. A glance out of any window revealed a fight of some kind. To be honest, her father had proved more of an irritant than a threat. Because he didn’t want Taliyah to die—before the ceremony. No, he wanted Roc to be the one to kill her, forced to live with his guilt and regret for the rest of eternity. All along, she had been her father’s weapon of destruction.

  Only eight days remained until the ceremony, and her nerves were...frayed. They were no closer to a solution. Doom loomed ever darker on the horizon.

  Taliyah kicked a boot someone had dropped in the middle of the hall, punting it out of the way, and marched on, heading for the dungeon. She’d been practicing with her ring and studying like crazy.

  She’d finally picked a major. Sacrifices. Forget everything else. The crux of every problem revolved around the sacrifice. The linchpin.

  Roc’s sacrifice spurred his ascension to god, just as hers spurred an ascension to General. Motives mattered, the impact of the loss important.

  His loss—his dream of family. The death of his gravita.

  Hers—life. Willingly dying for her consort.

  Yeah. She’d entertained the possibility a time or twelve, but had always backtracked, a dead General doing no one any good.

  Never accept a picture of defeat.

  If only she could sleep! When she tried, she dreamed of phantoms trapped in a tunnel or cave, pinned in by countless bodies and starving. The real-life harphantoms were well-fed, at least. Yesterday, Taliyah had convinced Roc to serve up his naughty soldiers.

  Sweet Roc, who had refused to work on the altar.

  His men had completed it for him. The murder stone currently resembled every altar she’d seen in his memories. Anytime she spotted the stupid thing, she imagined sacrificing Erebus and Chaos there. They deserved to die.

  In the dungeon, she breathed deep. The place had been scrubbed clean. Harphantoms rushed to the bars of the cages as she passed. Like every time before, they reached through the barriers as much as possible, their mouths open and sucking.