Casteel.
“So he is alive.”
“Dylan cut off his hand, but the healers were able to restore him to full capacity despite that.”
“Bunny functions with only one hand—one arm, really. I doubt Casteel will slow,” I say, watching him lash a whip at one of his men. From here, it looks like there are hundreds of soldiers, maybe more. I have no idea how Clinton and the others will raise an army large or skilled enough to take down the force below. I’m not even sure what to do with them when they arrive back.
Or if they will.
“Thank you for showing me around.”
“Do you think it will be helpful?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure the Queen added it to make me realize how powerful her army is. Just as she did this morning with the Darkness. It’s all just here to keep me off balance. To question my abilities and make me heel.”
“Yet you found a way around it this morning.” Her comment is pointed.
“I won’t give up,” is all I say to her. “Not now. Not until the final moment, and I’ll do what it takes to keep fighting.”
14
Sam
Thirty minutes isn’t much time to prepare but it’s also just enough time to panic. Or maybe that’s just me, I think, looking at my brothers and Hildi as we wait in the changing room.
“Any idea on how this will go down?” Clinton asks.
“I do,” Hildi says. “I owed the Shaman for some gambling debts a few years ago. I paid them off by working the back. Including handling the Legion.”
“What do you know about them?” Dylan asks. “I’ve only read about them in texts, as part of the greater mythology surrounding Camulus, the God of War. I’ve never seen them in person before.”
“The Shaman doesn’t use them for standard battles in the ring. He’s more likely to send them to other realms looking for fighters to come to Earth. Where do you think he gets so many participants?”
Damien removes his rings and tapes his knuckles. “They’re all in his debt, like us.”
“Exactly. The Legion are different. They were tossed out of the Immortal army for refusing to continue their barbaric ways. The Shaman snapped up their contract and they’ve been in his service ever since.”
“So they refused to stoop to Camulus’ brutality. Isn’t that a good thing?” I ask.
Hildi snorts. “They were part of an elite death squad. They had no civility. No moral code. They wreaked havoc and mayhem for centuries.”
“Sounds like the kind of soldiers the Morrigan would love to get her hands on,” Clinton says, standing and lacing his boots. “Too bad we’ll get them first.”
“Tell us anything you know,” I say to Hildi and Dylan. We have ten minutes and I’d like to be as prepared as possible.
“The mythology states that Camulus traveled the world to find the strongest fighters for the Legion. Each were known for their heroic last stands—something that probably caught Camulus’ attention. Most he collected on the battlefield, moments after their death. He granted them immortality and a spot in his special army. These soldiers cut a swath through the world with a particular kind of mayhem, but as we talked about, six men refused to continue and were released from Camulus.”
“Who are they?” Clinton asks. From the set of his jaw I can tell he wants to know everything he can about his opponents.
Hildi sits on the bench next to the lockers. “They’re a mixed lot. The one thing they have in common is a taste for blood. But to get it started, there’s Miya. He’s a Japanese swordsman who won his first duel at the age of twelve.”
“So he was a prodigy,” Clinton says.
“His opponent was a well-trained Samurai with a blade. Miya had a sharpened stick.”
Damien winces. “Ouch.”
“Then,” she says, “there’s Agis. He was known as the God of Death due to his refusal to die although severely injured. He kept fighting and allowed his army to get through.”