Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Connor
I inhaled deeply, relishing the scent on the wind, blowing from the direction of my brother’s tiny, pathetic army.
Fear. The air was thick with it, and it was glorious. I chuckled lightly, stepping forward, traveling along the fourth level of the berserker realm.
I came as a conqueror should—carried on the backs of my servants. The banwyn under my feet let out a squeal as I walked over top of them. Their bodies were slightly squashy, but they’d learned their lesson and stayed as still as they could so my feet did not touch the ground.
I was, after all, their god. Of course they should use their bodies to cushion my feet.
It wasn’t the most suitable surface to walk over, but it was better than the marshy swamps and explosive-ridden fields that the wretched berserkers had created to stop me.
As if they could stop me.
I was nearly there. Soon, I’d have everything I desired. The high fae spark stone would be mine. Then nobody would have the strength to stand against me.
Frustration still pricked at me. I couldn’t see my prey from here; the edge of the fourth platform blocked my view. She had the stone, though. I saw the flash of emerald-green so clearly.
Before the day was out, I would have both of them. Instinctively, my fists clenched, as if her throat was already clutched in my hands. I would have her. I would break her and make her mine.
She had escaped from me once. It would not happen again.
“We have cleared the rest of the way, Sire.” A greasy-looking mage in a black cloak blocked my way.
I curled my lip. He was kneeling and averting his eyes, at least. My banwyn streamed around him, carrying me forward.
“There is a ward halfway across the top field,” he continued.
“An oath-ward, designed to block those loyal to you. It is flimsy at best. We will break it in no time.”
I arched my brow as I drifted past. “When you do, make sure to send your forces forward to block the portal behind them so they cannot escape,” I ordered, not pausing.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The dirty mage pushed his forehead into the ground so he wouldn’t dare make eye contact with me. “I can also report that your bondsmen, Purg and Agarthon, have finally joined us.”
I grunted. “They are still alive?”
“Yes. But both are badly injured and cannot assist in the fight. Purg cannot even speak.”
Irritation pricked me. They should have sent word. I had assumed they were killed when we were ambushed outside the whore’s party.
I felt no relief that the last of my assassins were still breathing. After all, if they were incapacitated, they were both useless to me. “Hmm. Well, they might still wish for death before the day is out.”
We reached the edge of the platform. A sheer wall stood before me, sixteen feet in height. “Go,” I ordered, stomping my feet on the bodies beneath me.
The banwyn moved, piling up in front of me to create a ramp for me to step on. I crested the edge, stepping up onto the last platform in the berserker realm and surveyed my forces.
The rest of my Middle World army stretched in front of me, halting abruptly as they hit the ward halfway across the field and were pressed up against it.
I’d lost half, at least, on the journey upwards, but it was worth it.
A thousand corpses lay in pieces on the lower levels, ripped to shreds by those bastard Ancient vampires or beaten to a bloody pulp by berserkers.
Although, those purple cowards ran quickly once I approached with my banwyn.
I inhaled through my nose again. Fear. The stench of it made me almost giddy.
At the far end of the platform, a tower rose high above the crowd. I scanned it quickly. Big purple bodies cowered at the top. My eyes narrowed. Where was she?
My irritation spiked again; I couldn’t see past my army. I stamped my foot. “Up.”
The little child-like bodies of the banwyn rolled underneath my feet, pushing me upwards slowly. More of the field came into view, and I laughed when I saw it.
My army had my own family cornered, outside of the ward, in a tight circle. My moron father held his sword out in front of him, swinging wildly whenever any of my army snapped closer. Cress, too, lashed out at my army with her useless human lover throwing punches beside her.
And my brother. He was there with them, whirling and kicking, thrusting and slashing at anyone that came close. A rush of annoyance washed through me, ruining my moment of triumph. Donovan was still fighting. Even now, when the war was lost, he was still swinging his sword.
No matter. They were all about to die.
But where was the woman? Not with my brother. My eyes searched the field, checking the tower. Then, I saw her.
She ran across the empty field towards the ward, arms outstretched. The bitch was still wearing her silk dress. She opened her mouth and screamed, “Stop!”
I laughed. She didn’t even have the strength left to use her siren command. I was almost disappointed.
She saw me and changed course, barreling towards me, closing the distance, moving towards the edge of the ward. Her eyes widened. A look of pure desperation came over her face. “Stop this, and I’ll surrender.”
The army roared. Shifters howled and screeched. Vampires hissed and snapped their fangs.
Idiots.
I clapped my hands once. “Quiet.”
My entire army fell silent. In the circle, my brother whirled around. “No! Chosen, no!”
“I’ll do it,” she called out. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Let them all go, and you can take me. I won’t fight if you take me back to your kingdom right now. You can take me back and make…” She hesitated and swallowed. “You can bond with me and fulfill the prophecy.”
“Chosen!”
I breathed it in. My brother’s terror, his anger, his fury. I opened myself up to it, using my power to drink it all in.
He suffered. It was glorious. And it kept going. He was still fighting. Donovan thrashed forward, stabbing my men where they stood. Cress, too, struggled, teeth clenched. My father fell on one knee but rose again, still trying to fight.
I laughed. Oh, it was so delicious. I focused for a moment, using my fathomless magic to sense their bonds to each other. There was so much love, so much desire, thick and tangled, in that little circle, stretching across the field towards the woman who stood alone, throwing herself on my mercy.
My eyebrows rose. Interestingly enough, I could see that her thin bond to my father throbbed red with lust. How amusing. She’d developed a sexual interest in my father. I laughed again.
This was almost better than taking her by force. The Chosen One was sacrificing herself for my twin, and he had no idea she lusted for my father, too. He would never know, though. But my brother would suffer for all eternity.
Just like I’d been suffering, having been denied what was rightfully mine for my whole life.
But first… “Give me the spark stone,” I called out.
She hesitated. Her chin shook. She said something; I couldn't hear it.
“Louder, woman!”
With shaking fingers, she opened a little black purse and took out a huge, shining gem. “I closed it. Cecil worked his magic to make it look like it was still open.”
Rage blackened the edges of my vision for a split second; the banwyn cringed underneath me. I clenched my fists, calming myself with considerable effort.
No matter. She was mine now. I would break her, and I would bond her. Whatever powers the stone had given her, she would use them in service to me.
My brother was still screaming; the sound annoyed me. “Chosen, stop! Do not do this!”
As delicious and genuine as his terror was, I was no fool. She still had considerable magic. Although my own power was almost god-like now, I was not immortal. Not yet. “Swear a blood oath that you will not use your magic to try to fight me if I agree.”
She didn’t even hesitate. She bit the pad of her palm and spat out red. “I swear! I will not use my magic to fight you.” A touch of defiance lit up her eyes.
I smiled. Aha. She’d still fight me. But now, she was blood-bound; she could not use magic to harm me. A triumphant smile stretched at my lips. “Let her come to me.”
The army at the ward parted. The Chosen One walked straight through the ward towards me.
“Chosen!” Donovan was crying now and still fighting. That idiot never stopped.
I frowned. It was becoming annoying. I might have her, but he might make it hard for me to leave for the Upper World.
As if I’d summoned a solution with my thoughts, a giant purple berserker—wearing little more than a bra and panties straining over grotesque muscles—bounded like a flea over the empty field and jumped into the circle with the remainder of my kin.
It wrapped my brother in a bear hug, and they crashed to the ground.
I almost laughed. The so-called heir, brought to his knees by one simple female berserker. Although, I suppose I struck the killing blow.
It was a shame the berserkers were such cowards. Once I had all three Worlds firmly in my grasp, I may continue in my efforts to break them for my own use.
After a moment, the berserker wiggled again, wrapping up Donovan in a complicated lock using only one arm. It bounded backwards, dragging them all away, back over the line of the ward.
It didn’t matter much. The mages were right; the ward was flimsy. It would come down soon.
My attention wavered. The Chosen One walked forward tentatively, shaking a little. As she came closer, I heard her soft panting. I held out my hand and grasped hers roughly. She let out a gasp.
“It is done!” My voice echoed around the field. “I will take this woman, who has surrendered freely to me. And in return, you are free. We will now depart. You”—I jerked my head towards the ragged group of my mages kneeling at the edges of the wards—“open a gateway to my kingdom, now.”
They scrambled like rats, emptying their pockets, snapping at each other. Idiots.
Luckily, Purg and Agarthon stepped out from within their ranks. Agarthon moved stiffly within his armor, almost bent and bowed. Purg, too, felt a mere shadow of his former power. I snarled softly under my breath, angry at how they let my stupid siblings get the better of them.
Nevertheless, they did as I requested and began to weave the magic, summoning power, clapping their hands and pulling them apart. I eyed them, curling my lip. If they managed to open the gateway, I might forgive them for their failures tonight.
A wide circle, ringed in green flames, appeared in mid-air. Purg and Agarthon stretched their hands, the strain evident in every limb of their bodies. Within the circle, an image appeared. A glimpse of a mighty chamber, a long stretch of gleaming marble floor. At the end sat the obsidian throne.
I smiled. Some of my anger towards my weakened assassins dissolved. This felt appropriate. I would step into the Upper World with my new slave and take my place on the throne of the most powerful kingdom in all the Worlds.
It was done. I jerked the Chosen One towards me and stalked towards the gateway. A dozen banwyn scuttled around me, following me. “Come,” I said to the swarm. “The ones who can enter can guard the door to my bedchamber.”
I had no patience for my ragged army anymore; they could stay here and find their own way back to their homes.
I turned towards them, waiting silently.
“I gave my word that they could go free. So, you are now free”—I smiled widely, gloating—“to kill them all.” I stalked through the gateway, pulling my prize behind me.