There was a distinct difference between these Dreaded Dead and the ones she’d faced previously. In the hand, or in some cases hands, of the creatures were savage weapons that glowed faintly green. It seemed Shadow had taken a page from Aterna’s book as their weapons pulsed with Dread Magic.
She looked at Eryx as he scowled down at the creatures of the night.
“Filth,” he spat. “Any day now, Reeve, they’re getting dangerously close to the town below.”
“Someone’s pissy today,” said Reeve playfully.
A prideful smile tugged at the corner of Eryx’s mouth.
Reeve’s arm swung wide, like he was welcoming the Dreaded Dead. A portal burst across the valley below them, like nothing she’d ever seen. It must have been a mile long. She watched the empty, swirling lights of the Portal, and then she smiled.
Antony stepped through the Portal, four massive black as night paws stalking across the patchy snow-covered ground. More wolves joined him, of all sizes and coloring, along the wide Portal, fanning out across the valley.
It was a beautiful sight, but Maeve’s smile quickly faded. Despite the lethal ferocity of the wolves, they lacked a certain skill set required to kill a Dreaded Dead.
“How are they any match for the undead?” asked Maeve. “They must be burned or they’ll regenerate.”
Reeve’s sharp smile was feral. “You can leave the burning to me. The shredding I’ll leave to them.”
Below them, Antony was already charging towards the line of Dreaded Dead, and the dozens of wolves behind him, still stepping through the Portal, also began to pick up speed. Eryx was already gone, barreling down the cliffside to claim his own quarry.
Maeve pulled on Spitfire’s reins, readying herself to join them below, but Reeve’s voice stopped her.
“The Aterna power in your blade yields fire. Use it well. I know you thirst for bloodshed, but keep your eye on your real battle. If Malachite appears, try to expel Shadow from his mind just like you’ve been studying to do.”
Studying with no real practice. No hands-on training.
Reeve reached out and grabbed her chin, yanking her closer. His lips crashed into hers, and then vanished with a wet smacking sound.
“And hold onto that pretty new sword,” he said with a grin, letting her chin go.
He Obscured away from her and dropped himself in the middle of the swarm. His massive horse reared back, kicking one of the Dreaded Dead so hard its head flew from its body. He drew Shadow Slayer, and the blade instantly ignited with violet flames. As the wolves tore through the Dreaded Dead at hyper speed, Reeve’s sword set them ablaze.
A swirling mass of light caught her vision. A small Portal opened behind the continuous line of advancing Dreaded Dead. Two forms stepped through it: Roswyn and Mumford. More Portals opened up behind them, as more Bellator joined the line of Dreaded Dead.
Eryx’s bellow of joy echoed across the valley, between sounds of bones ripping and shattering and rising plumes of smoke. He dismounted his horse, clearly eager for the combat. Roswyn and Mumford Obscured, sandwiching him at once.
Roswyn was too occupied with Eryx to see what charged towards him with raging intent.
Antony jumped, his massive frame turning sideways to knock into Roswyn. Roswyn pulled two fingers back, ready to strike as the air turned thick with static. Antony’s side made brutal contact with Roswyn, but the bolt of lightning that expelled from him is what sent Roswyn flying.
His head hit the Earth, knocking the breath from him as remnants of lightning cracked across his body. He heaved, trying to upright himself in agony, but Antony’s massive body stalked over him. Roswyn’s eyes were impossibly large. His chest went limp as he fell back into the Earth.
He stared at Antony in realization, with much the same awe Maeve had. From the snarling behind his bared teeth, she thought for a moment Antony was going to kill him right there. His once friend. But he didn’t. He stayed over him, both their bodies still in the chaos of battle.
A wail, the one a man utters as his last, sang from Mumford’s lips as Eryx finished him. Eryx moved towards Antony and Roswyn, but with a single glance from the black wolf, Eryx knocked Roswyn unconscious, and they took him captive, alive and virtually unharmed. Antony rejoined the fight with barreling force as his teeth and claws shredded through Dreaded Dead after Dreaded Dead.
From the rising flames of burning corpses, the snow falling turned to black soot across the atmosphere. The Magic around her shifted.
A power signature entered the valley, one that triumphed over all the Dreaded Dead. The blackened veins running across her body darkened and hissed in welcome at Mal’s arrival. The Morconis, slick black with tattered wings, flew down towards the earth with a screech, baring its razor-sharp teeth. Too many teeth. The creature slammed into the ground, revealing Mal atop it. It bent beneath him, crushing the ground and sending chunks of compacted earth spiraling. Maeve squeezed her legs together and raced down towards him, swinging her sword with deadly aim at every Dreaded Dead she flew by. They burst apart beneath her power—beneath Reeve’s power.
The Morconis shrieked a nausea-inducing sound, its eel-like neck snapping up a wolf in its jaws. Then another. Maeve recoiled at the sight, plunging her sword through the hollowed abdomen of amindless corpse before her. The Dreaded Dead continued to swarm—there were simply too many.
No. There couldn’t be. Not for Reeve. He could wipe them all out at once. So why hadn’t he?
He was enjoying himself. She could feel it through their bond.
Mal’s attention was not on Maeve, even as she hurled herself faster and faster towards him. A combination of swordplay and electric Magic destroyed each Dreaded Dead in her path. Mal’s dead glare was on Reeve—Reeve, who kicked his horse back and smiled traitorously.
