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“You’re making a mistake,” Nereus says. “Cressida isn’t going to be that easy to eliminate, and chances are that her agents will get to you first.”
“I’ve been alive for thousands of years, boy,” Xanthos sneers. “And I have friends on Triton, otherwise I wouldn’t have done this.”
“Friends…?” Nereus trails off, his eyes wide.
“It’s her sister, isn’t it?” Fiona says. “Calypso?”
Xanthos laughs. “Not that it’s going to do her any good. Cressida is already dead…as are you.”
No.
They will not touch her.
My blood sings in my veins, pumping faster than it ever has before, my muscles swollen with the power of my lineage. It’s like my horns grow sharper, my instincts quicker, my hands aching to wrap around someone’s throat and squeeze until they draw their last breath. I catch a glance from Orion to my right, and I see his hand move subtly to his blade, ready to act when I am. Aramis is between us, moving with the same stealthy motions.
Fiona was right; Xanthos made a mistake in attempting to hurt her when she’s protected by some of the mightiest warriors in the Alpha Worlds.
“Take them alive or dead,” Xanthos says. “Lamia doesn’t care as long as she can identify the bodies.”
The only warning I give is a roar before sweeping my antlers forward and around in a wide arc, catching the brainwashed guards flanking Xanthos. He manages to float out of the way, rising toward the icicles on the ceiling, his white robes billowing around him. I’m immediately attacked by other guards with blank stares, only their eyes visible in the slot of their helmets.
Dead inside. We aresurroundedby the dead.
The zing of blades being drawn from my comrades sets me at ease, reminding me that I can worry about our attackers while the others get Fiona and Nereus to safety. I leap into the fray, tossing my horns left and right, impaling guards from nearly every planet toward the ceiling. The carnage is startling for the part of me that’s still sane, but the monster striving to come to the surface glories in it. I forget all about strategy and battle tactics, instead using my hands to rend my opponents in two. I pull arms out of sockets, send bodies flying.
The Hyperboreans might have deployed the dead against us, but I am death incarnate. Andthey will not touch my queen.
“Ryker!” Aramis shouts from somewhere behind me. “A little help!”
I whip around to see the two Boreans in the chamber moving toward my friends, both hovering with their arms outstretched. They have telekinetic powers that can be deadly—some can even wield air itself like a blade—and I plow through the guards to get to my mate. Some of the brainwashed warriors leap onto my back or grab at my ankles, trying to pull me into the tide of corpses, but I shake them off like flies as I lower my antlers. The other Hyperborean—the one who was lurking in the darkness—has lowered to their feet, saving their psychic energy up for an attack.
They don’t see or hear me coming.
I jab my antlers into their back, silver and black blood seeping from the wounds and splashing on the frost-covered floor. They scream like a banshee as the life seeps from them, and I jerk them around enough to draw out the necessary Elixir to kill them. I toss them off my horns to send their body flying.
It lands with a thud as Xanthos turns his ire on me.
“You beast,” he hisses. “You’ll pay for killing one of us.”
I don’t have any control over the roar that erupts from my chest as I charge at him, my antlers lowered once again. I’m not even using my axe; it’s stayed on my back this entire time, unnecessary when I have horns and fists and teeth. I grapple for him, but he flies out of the way to stand on the ground, raising his hands to attack me.
The shock of his psychic energy tosses me back like a ragdoll, the breath puffing out of my chest when I hit the ground. Instantly, a dozen guards are on me, trying to hold me down. They’re no match for my adrenaline though, the intoxicating array of chemicals still coursing through me and making me strong. I fling them back one by one, then burst out of the crowd to find Xanthos again as he moves toward Fiona a second time.
She’s already descending the stairs, though, Orion at her back, Aramis and Nereus ahead. They’re all covered in blood and ichor, the frost on the floor melting now with the heat of battle and the blood of our enemies. I race toward Xanthos, paying no heed to the way my feet slip across the floor, and launch myself into the air to catch just the tips of his toes in my grip.
It’s all I need.
I haul him to the ground, leaving his white robes splattered with red and black as he falls several feet from me. I stagger to my feet, sick with bloodlust, and I’ve almost fallen upon him when I hear Fiona’s voice ring out from the stairs.
“Ryker! We have to leavenow!”
There’s no time.
No time to exact vengeance.
Because Xanthos is already rallying, his silver teeth flashing in the darkness. I know that this is a battle I’ll have to postpone until there’s more time, until we’ve collected ourselves and are prepared to take on a Borean magister. And Fiona’s voice slices through the animalistic rage driving me forward, calling to me like a song.
I turn and run toward the stairs.
