Page 46 of Lord of the Lone Wolf (Bonded Hearts #3)
Junbe laughed, the sound harsh and grating. “We’ll see about that. Once I’ve beaten you into submission, I’ll take what was promised to me. And this time, there won’t be any magic to save you.”
Maseo braced for impact, but instead of feeling steel against steel, he watched as Junbe’s blade struck an invisible wall inches from his body. Silver light rippled outward from the point of impact as the ring’s barrier activated. Junbe’s weapon rebounded with such force that he staggered backward.
“Fight me, you coward!” Junbe roared, his face reddening with each thwarted blow.
Maseo remained still, a cold satisfaction spreading through him as he watched his would-be rapist exhaust himself against Kitsuki’s protection. “You’ll never touch me again.”
Junbe’s face twisted with hatred. “I’ll break through this barrier, even if I have to strike a thousand times!”
He renewed his assault with savage intensity, his sword becoming a frenzied blur as he attacked from every angle.
The protective shield held firm, each impact sending ripples of silver light across its surface without the slightest sign of weakening.
Junbe’s movements grew desperate, his technique abandoning all pretense of skill in favor of violent power.
“I won’t stop until you’re screaming as I fuck you, right here on the battlefield, in front of everyone,” he snarled between strikes, spittle flying from his lips.
Maseo watched the display with detached calm, the ring warm against his finger. “You’ll die before that happens.”
Junbe’s attacks continued unabated, his breath coming in ragged gasps as sweat poured down his face. The barrier remained unbreeched, a perfect shield between Maseo and his tormentor’s fury. The bear shifter paused, his chest heaving with exertion.
“This isn’t possible,” he panted, trembling with fatigue. “No magic is this strong.”
Before Maseo could respond, someone severed Junbe’s head from his shoulders in a single clean stroke.
The bear shifter’s body collapsed to the ground, blood spraying everywhere. Behind him stood Valdrion.
Maseo stared in stunned disbelief, unable to comprehend what he had witnessed. The variform shifter’s face was unreadable, his gaze meeting Maseo’s with intensity.
“Why?” Maseo asked in shock. It was twice as confusing because of their complicated history.
The commander had trained Maseo to be a skilled fighter, but their relationship had always been strained since Maseo had been romantically involved with Valdrion’s younger sister, Phaedra, before becoming Kio’s partner.
Valdrion wiped his blade clean with practiced efficiency, his movements betraying centuries of experience. When he spoke, his voice was flat and matter-of-fact. “Junbe was a disgrace to the uniform. His death was overdue.”
“But you killed one of your men to save me,” Maseo said, reeling from the sudden intervention.
“I killed a rapist who abandoned his post to settle a personal grudge.” Valdrion’s ice-blue eyes were cold as winter. “Military discipline exists for a reason.”
Maseo studied the man standing before him for any hint of the ruthless commander who had once drilled him in the training yards. “You could have let him kill me. It would have been easier.”
“Easier doesn’t make it right. You chose a side that doesn’t traffic in abominations against nature. That shows better judgment than I credited you with.”
“You hate what my father has become.”
Valerian’s jaw tightened. “Nasume has perverted everything the army once stood for. Necromancy is a corruption that poisons the very ground it touches. It is a darkness that should have stayed buried in the shadows of Blightmare Vale.”
“Then why stay? Why not defect like I did?”
Valdrion’s laugh was bitter and short. “Because someone needs to bear witness to his crimes and remember what honor looked like before he destroyed it.” His expression hardened. “I’ll ensure that when his reckoning comes, it’s thorough.”
Maseo opened his mouth to press further, but Valdrion was already stepping back.
“Fight well, Maseo.” He paused, his expression softening by the barest fraction. “Take heart in knowing your mother would have been proud of the choice you made.”
Valdrion turned and disappeared into battle, leaving Maseo staring after him with a dozen new questions burning in his mind.
“Talk about unexpected,” Bitris remarked, appearing at Maseo’s side. “And here I was, all ready to play the hero and save you again.”
Maseo glanced over at the dragon shifter, trying to process what had happened. “Why would Valdrion kill his own soldier to protect me?” He had explained it, but it still didn’t make sense to Maseo.
“I’m not sure, but I’m not a fan of the competition,” Bitris joked.
“Bitris, stop flirting and keep fighting,” Drayden called as he passed by, his sword slick with blood. “We’ve got more lichen incoming.”
Bitris rolled his eyes but readied his weapon. “Duty calls. Don’t get yourself killed while I’m gone. I’d hate to explain to His Majesty how I let his favorite half-shifter get skewered.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Maseo smiled. “I’ll do my best.”
They separated again, each returning to the chaos of battle. Maseo soon faced another lichen, which wore the remnants of what might have once been ceremonial armor. Time and the elements had carved away much of the breastplate’s detail.
He engaged the skeleton, which fought with a style he didn’t recognize. Its movements were fluid yet precise, as if the warrior it had once been had trained in an art long forgotten.
Maseo adapted, matching the skeleton’s rhythm and looking for an opening to strike at the glowing soul. He feinted left, drawing the lichen’s guard in that direction, then spun right, his sword slicing through the air toward the skeleton’s unprotected side.
The lichen pivoted to block, but the movement left a gap in its defense.
Maseo didn’t waste the opportunity. He reversed his grip and thrust his sword through the opening into the glowing green orb.
The soul flared, then dimmed, the skeleton collapsing into a pile of bones and armor that disintegrated.
A movement on top of the fortress walls caught Maseo’s attention. A cloaked figure stood there, arms raised to the heavens, revealing bony fingers.
The sky above the castle darkened, clouds swirling in an unnatural pattern. Green lightning crackled, illuminating the roiling darkness from within. The air grew heavy, charged with magical energy that raised the hair on Maseo’s arms.
A sound pierced the air, a roar that seemed to contain a thousand voices screaming in agony. It rattled the bones on the battlefield, sending wolf shifters and Valzerna soldiers alike to their knees, hands clasped over their sensitive ears to block out the terrible noise.
Maseo staggered, the sound vibrating through his very core.
He looked up in horror as creatures emerged from the swirling clouds, their forms a nightmarish amalgamation of bone and sinew.
They had the general shape of dragons, but where scales should have been, exposed ribs gleamed white.
Tattered wings stretched from bony spines, the membranes torn and decayed, while empty eye sockets and their souls burned with the same malevolent fire.
“Necrowings,” Drayden breathed in shock. “Their necromancer has raised necrowings.”
The skeletal dragons circled above the battlefield, their jawbones opening wide to release another terrible scream. Fire dripped from their maws, sizzling like acid where it hit the ground.
A flash of silver drew Maseo’s attention to the center of the Valzerna lines.
Before Maseo’s eyes, Kitsuki transformed into a massive dragon.
Pearlescent white scales gleamed in the sunlight as he spread enormous wings, each beat sending gusts of wind across the battlefield.
Silver magic crackled around his jaws as he launched himself into the air, a creature of light and power in stark contrast to the necrowings that circled above.
Jaega underwent his own transformation, shifting into a massive orange dragon with black markings. He joined Kitsuki, already breathing fire as he rose to meet the threat.
More dragon shifters transformed, and the sky became a second battlefield as they clashed with skeletal abominations in a terrifying display of power. Flames of various colors met the green fire of the necrowings, illuminating the darkened sky with flashes of light that rivaled lightning.
Maseo watched, transfixed, as Kitsuki engaged the first of the necrowings. They clashed in midair, a blur of white and bone, silver magic and green fire creating a dazzling display against the darkened sky. The dragon king was magnificent as he battled the undead creature.
A flicker of green light in his peripheral vision was Maseo’s only warning. He spun, raising his sword to block a strike from a lichen that had approached while distracted by the aerial battle. The impact jarred his arm, reminding him of his own fight.
“Focus on what’s in front of you,” Sudryl called, engaging another lichen nearby. “Let His Majesty handle the necrowings.”
Maseo nodded, turning his full attention to the skeleton before him. As much as he wanted to watch Kitsuki’s battle, he knew Sudryl was right. He had his own fight to win.
Each victory brought Maseo a step closer to confronting the man who had made his life a living nightmare. Somewhere in that obsidian castle, Nasume waited for him. And when the time came, Maseo would be ready to face him and end the cycle of abuse once and for all.
But first, he had a battlefield to clear so the undead could return to their rightful rest in the Beyond Realm.