“Of course. What kind of guest would I be if I wasn't punctual?”
“Not a very good one. So let's commence, shall we?” With that said, he commanded his guards pointedly, “Kill them all.”
Without hesitation, the guards in the arena started toward them, and Isaac caught a glimpse of Edith's annoyed expression just as she made a wide arch with her free hand in their direction.
In turn, her palm flashed, and a magical barrier encircled her group like a wave rising up from the ground. Anyone who'd gotten too close was knocked away by the force while Edith spoke on a bored tone, “Could you hold your damned horses, fucknut? There's something I'd like to say before you start throwing guards at me to swat like flies.”
“Talking was not a part of our arrangement,” Rothario returned. “So, if you insist on being uncooperative … ”
Isaac still couldn't see the Steward, but knew exactly what was happening on the dais when the mute started expanding.
“Lower your barrier,” he directed, “or watch him die slowly.”
Edith sighed, suggesting she was extremely tired of the same old threat. “You're just not gonna listen, are you? You're gonna make me do it.”
“I've told you my terms and—”
“No,” Edith interrupted. “I don't mean lower my barrier, shit-for-brains. What I mean is this.”
Holding up her hand, a brief light flashed in her palm, and the same brand used to make Isaac's mute appeared. Folding her fingers around it in a tight grip, Edith smirked smugly—then immediately demolished it with a burst of energy.
Almost instantly, the intense pain on Isaac's back faded away—and this time, when the burns healed, the marks causing them disappeared.
Finally, the impediment that had given Isaac so much grief for centuries was gone, and with the mute's removal came a sense of relief that went beyond physical anguish. He'd never once realized just how sickly the damned thing made him feel, like being constantly worn down, even ill.
But with his healing came a clarity of perception and a kind of energy he hadn't even known was possible before. If he had to describe it, he could only say that he now felt unstoppable.
And as soon as he was freed of the stock, he'd make certain everyone knew it.
Thirty-Five
• • •
Edith had no idea how well Isaac might've felt with his mute gone, but destroying the brand used to create it was nothing short of sublime.
Sadly, celebratory drinks would have to wait. Ridding him of his mute was only the first part of her plan, and failing to time the second just right would mean Isaac and all of the prisoners getting sent into the Pit.
So, while lowering her hand as pieces of the brand fell to the arena floor, she remarked, “See, fucknut, I was trying to tell you I'd been poking around your palace with the help of my new friends here.”
Motioning to the guards with her, which included Riordan, she added, “They've all gotten so tired of your bullshit that they happily helped me locate the brand I needed to fuck your day over. So here's a lesson to everyone present—when you don't give your people an iota of respect, it's really fucking hard to know who to trust.”
Several of the prisoners could be heard muttering in approval while the guards who'd attempted to attack earlier remained on standby with their weapons at the ready. Still, now that Edith had destroyed Rothario's only means of controlling her, she was counting on him to ignore those loyal men completely in favor of opening the Pit.
It was the only way he had to truly hurt her now, and that was exactly what he did.
The skull that triggered the portal was sitting on a plinth only three feet from where Rothario stood, and he reached for it, remarking, “Then you leave me no other option.”
Just as his gloved hand closed in to make contact with the device, an arrow was fired from high in the stands left of the dais. Sailing with deadly precision, it flew right for Rothario's head—and at the last second, the Steward's hand flew up, catching the projectile mere inches from his temple.
With the arrow clutched in his fist, Rothario looked up to the stands, and like a wave, everyone else did the same, including the Tribunal Elders standing behind him.
There, they spied a random soldier wearing imperial armor that Edith knew as Dalia.
Upon her failure to kill him, the demoness nocked another arrow for a second shot. But the soldiers still standing in the arena teleported into the stands to stop her from firing.
Immediately, Riordan vanished to join Dalia in her fight while the rest of the soldiers remained with Edith. But she was too busy in that specific moment to take much notice, her staff and palms glowing with magic.
As their scuffle ensued, Rothario looked back down with some mild irritation on his maimed face—What the hell happened to his nose, anyway?—and asked, “Was that really necessary?”
As if his question didn't warrant an answer, he reached for the skull again, and this time his hand fully covered the smooth, oyalite trigger.
But nothing happened.
Releasing a quiet breath of relief, Edith hid her satisfied smirk. Rothario's bloody visage was overcome by confusion as he touched it a second time, but the seal remained inactively idle.
And the reason was simple.
While everyone was so busy gazing at the stands during Dalia's attack, Edith had created an illusion of the plinth and skull that stood about a foot closer to Rothario than the real skull. So his hand was literally mere inches away from sending everyone on the seal into the Pit, and the frustration that overcame his face in response was nothing short of hilarious.
But there was a chance he'd uncover the truth by interacting with her imitation too heavily. So Edith quickly took that chance to tell the guards standing with her, “Now.”
One by one, those soldiers teleported toward the prisoners, gathering around the cages to transport the units off of the seal, including the stock Isaac was contained within. Edith had specifically directed them not to worry with unlocking the units first, fearing Rothario would see through her illusion too quickly and rectify his dilemma.
But the last of the cages disappeared in quick time, and their success was punctuated by the Steward's sharp yell of anger. What a satisfying sound.
Edith glanced back up at the dais to see that Rothario was now … burning.
Her victory had obviously enraged him beyond compare, and in a moment's notice, the Steward teleported down into the arena ten feet from where she stood inside her barrier.
“You will pay for crossing me,” he sneered, his visage blurring through a thick haze of smoke that obscured his body entirely.
A low growl soon sounded from within the mist clouding him, and Edith drew up her staff defensively, watching carefully when the head of a dragon suddenly emerged, followed by a long neck. Just as Chandra had suggested in Nalona, Rothario was changing his shape, though the dragon he was turning into didn't resemble those she'd seen in Ithelyon.
Instead, it looked undead, with black scales and eyes the color of blood. Two jagged rows of fangs jutted from his mouth, and the wings were ragged. Sharp spines lined his back all the way down to a spiked tail, creating an eerily intimidating visage.
Once the transformation was complete, Rothario stood fifty feet tall over Edith, lowering his maul to release a high pitched roar in her direction.
Yet she stood her ground, canting her head with a scoff. “Bitch, please. Is that your idea of a dragon? Because I can show you what a real dragon looks like.”
Taking her staff in both hands, Edith summoned power from it—power that had her concerned despite her confident front. Those complex spells she'd worried over being too weak to cast without taking a dip in the Aeonic Well? This is definitely one of them.
But she summoned the necessary energy as carefully as possible, able to feel it flowing through her, and damned if it wasn't the most heady, and equally frightening thing she'd ever experienced. Yet the moment she had enough power, she
slammed the tip of her staff into the ground.
With a loud, magical blare, it shattered in a million flecks of shimmering dust obscuring her—and her body shifted.
As the transformation commenced, Edith knew one thing for certain.
Whatever happened next, it wasn't going to be a single bit dull.
Thirty-Six
• • •
Never thought I'd be attracted to a dragon, Isaac thought. Well, not in a kinky sense.
His temporary exit from the coliseum with the other prisoners didn't last long. The group of soldiers who'd evacuated them to safety had immediately unlocked their cages, and Isaac was one of the first to be freed.
Afterward, he'd tugged the bit from his mouth and demanded the nearest soldier transport him back to the coliseum, and thankfully, the man complied without question. Isaac arrived on the dais just in time to hear Edith asking Rothario Is that your idea of a dragon?, then watched as her own transformation began.
The process reminded him of what she'd said about gaining experience from her Calling several weeks ago in Belfast; I've never dealt with harpies before, and if I saw them up close, I could turn myself into one later.
And now, she'd encountered a Great fucking Dragon.
Rothario didn't stand a chance.
Still, it was questionable just how much strength her illusion might possess. But as her dragon's body grew in size, she did in fact take on Dra'Kai's likeness, particularly in regards to his horns, spines, and wings. The coloring was different, with fiery red scales and green eyes mirroring her natural hair and eye color, and Isaac didn't think she was quite as large as Dra'Kai—but she was definitely bigger than Rothario.
Now standing tall on all fours in the arena with her tail lashing dangerously from side to side, Edith growled menacingly at her opponent. The final similarity between her new form and Dra'Kai revealed itself when she quickly drew her head back and unleashed a torrent of electricity from her mouth in Rothario's direction.
Several bolts slammed into his body, but the Steward moved quickly to evade the rest, the arena quaking under their heavy footfalls.
At that time, a soldier teleported onto the dais, standing before the Tribunal Elders not far from where Isaac was watching the fight. Though his attention was compromised, he clearly heard the man stating, “My soldiers are outside, ready to assist Rothario as soon as we have your orders.”
Isaac almost attacked the soldier automatically, but hesitated when one of the Elders shook his head and replied, “This is Rothario's fight. He's chosen to challenge the enchantress, and we won't command more men to die settling this altercation.”
“But sir, he's not—”
Before the soldier could continue, Isaac quickly moved behind him and grasped his head, snapping his hands to the sides to break the man's neck.
As the armored body clanked to the floor, he glared at the Tribunal Elders, informing them all, “Good answer, because I'd hate for you guys to have some kind of freak accident, like getting your spines ripped out on my fist.”
The same Elder who'd denied the soldier shook his head. “You and your mate have nothing to fear from us. If Rothario falls to Edith, the rights to the throne will be hers to do with as she pleases.”
Isaac eyed the masked Elder with scrutiny, unsure whether or not he could believe such a claim, particularly when it was given so easily. Still, he recalled the female Elder confronting Rothario about his actions earlier, and realized they may well be pining for Edith to win.
But regardless, now wasn't the time. For all of Isaac's wariness of them, he was too distracted by the fight in the arena to give a shit, looking out to watch the battle taking place intently.
After several moves from Edith and Rothario alike, he realized that despite his mate's obviously superior form, Rothario's regenerative abilities were giving him an edge that was hard to match. Additionally, his size allowed him to move more quickly and evade more easily.
One such evasion gave him the opportunity to attack her left wing. The loud roar of pain Edith let in response had Isaac growling in a heated rage that was only mildly pacified by her next assault.
Immediately, she unleashed several bolts of electricity that slammed into Rothario with a merciless force, temporarily immobilizing him.
Edith took that opportunity to turn the front of her body and ram him into the wall directly beneath the upraised dais, shaking the entire foundation of the coliseum so hard Isaac thought it would crumble.
Several cracks and pops sounded in the support columns. As the quakes vibrated the walls, everyone present looked torn between fleeing, and watching the rest of their battle—and the number of spectators in the stands had increased since the fight began.
But Isaac didn't question any of it, including whatever Dalia had been up to when she appeared beside him in a suit of imperial armor covered in quite a bit of blood. He simply didn't care to know just then what she and Edith had done after his abduction, or how they'd stopped Rothario from sending him into the Pit with the rest of the prisoners.
All he wanted was to find some way to assist his mate now.
Dalia seemed equally invested in the fight as well, mentioning, “Rothario has her outmatched with speed, and he's healing too quickly. But if Edith can get her teeth around his neck, it'll be over in a heartbeat.”
“I know,” Isaac growled, watching as Edith took another shot with a blast of electricity, but missed due to Rothario's quick sidestep.
Yet she seemed to expect his evasion, and quickly turned, whipping her tail out just as Rothario released a burst of destructive, red energy at her side. Yet she landed her blow, the spikes of her tail impaling his hind quarters, and his head jerked at the pain, causing him to merely graze Edith with the blast.
The rest of his shot rammed into the dome above, right at the base of the tall monument of Peros overlooking the arena directly above Isaac and Dalia. Thankfully, none of the falling debris caused by the blast was close enough to threaten them, but Isaac's gaze remained focused on the point of impact.
Apparently, the base of the old, granite monument of Peros had cracked as a result of Rothario's misfire—and it gave him an idea.
“Dalia, teleport me up to the monument!”
“Why?”
“Just fucking do it!”
Grumbling, she took his arm and did just that.
Once they stood on the ledge above, Isaac inspected the monument more closely, announcing, “It hasn't cracked all the way through.”
“So?”
Instead of answering her, he drew his arm back, then rammed his fist into the base once. Twice. The crack lengthened under his blows, and on the fourth impact, the bones in Isaac's hand snapped from the force.
Yet his mute wasn't burning—because he no longer had a mute, allowing him to do more without stopping.
So he rammed his opposing fist into the base even harder, then harder still.
When that hand broke, he turned and slammed his shoulder into it, finally snapping the monument from the base entirely. Now it was just a matter of pushing it over the edge, and he let a loud growl with his effort.
“What are you doing?” Dalia asked in confusion.
“You'll see.”
Inch by inch, the statue slid across the base and toward the ledge of the dome. Dalia must've put two and two together in the process because she started helping, and together, they managed to get the monument mere feet from tipping over and plummeting into the arena.
That's when Isaac directed, “Stop!”
“What?”
“Rothario isn't in the right place,” he pointed out. “We have to—wait, he's moving … Now!”
At that, the siblings pushed the statue as hard as possible, causing it to fall right over the edge and directly down toward the dais below … .
Edith knew her battle with Rothario would bring the house down, but she hadn't quite expected the entire coliseum to start falling apart.
And da
mn, Rothario was fast—not that she was outmatched. As soon as he moved toward the stands as if to jump and take flight, she finally got her chance to deliver some real damage by snapping her fangs into his tail.
As soon as they'd clamped down, she jerked her neck, pulling her opponent back so hard that his body left a crater in the floor of the arena. There, with his tail still clamped in her teeth, Edith send a powerful surge of electricity through his body.
His muscles tensed hard as a result, until a heavy spray of blood erupted from his maul once the current died down.
But it didn't do Edith any favors either.
Her initial transformation caused a head rush that made it difficult to focus, but she'd felt well enough to continue on, unleashing her first blast of electricity and utilizing the physical strength her illusion provided without trouble. Yet harnessing so much powerful magic was taking its toll over time, and the moment Edith released Rothario's tail from her crushing bite, she stumbled back.
Dizziness assailed her, amplifying the pain of her injuries and preventing her from immediately attacking again. Such hesitation allowed him to escape her reach and take a position closer to the dais where he whipped his head around to face her.
Growling, Rothario opened his mouth with a bright, red gleam of destructive energy building in his throat, ready to strike her at any second.
Edith tried to clear her head, knowing she'd have to dodge physically if she wanted an actual shot at defeating him. So as the impending blast built power, she readied herself to do just that.
Crack! The din came from above, and Edith quickly looked up at the coliseum's dome. There, she saw the large monument of Peros falling from the ledge at the same time Isaac shouted, “Hey, fucknut! Peros is watching!”
The monument's head slammed into the dais mere seconds after the Tribunal Elders teleported out of harm's way, and the heavier base quickly flipped forward—coming down directly on Rothario.
The Final Calling Page 30