The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

A warrior pivots into Solar, blocking his view of the bride. He sinks his teeth into the male’s throat, shakes his head and wrenches back, taking the jugular with him. As his opponent drops, he spits out his bounty.

Taliyah pressed a hand to her churning stomach. She’d witnessed countless horrors on the battlefield before, had participated numerous times, but this...

From the sidelines, Erebus taunts, “Time ticks away, Roc. Do you wish to acquire the blessing or the curse? You decide...”

Her stomach churned faster as she zoomed her gaze to her husband.

Roc lifts the bride off her feet—by the throat. She flails and kicks, fighting for freedom, for life.

“You have pitted us against one another, making our Commander—our brother—despise us,” Roc snarls at the woman. “You aren’t his family! We are.”

Her eyes bug, her face molting. “Love...him.”

“How can you love the man who once planned to kill you?”

Similar to the words he’d spoken to Taliyah only minutes ago.

From somewhere in the battle zone, Ian shouts, “Ten seconds remain, Roc. Strike!”

“Roc! No! Please! Do not do this,” Solar screams.

“Do it,” Erebus urges. “You know what happens if you fail. You activate the curse—you activate me.”

“Five seconds,” Ian yells, panicked.

“Roc! Please. I beg of you. I love her.” Solar’s hoarse voice cracks. Realizing he cannot fight his way to his woman in time, he drops to his knees, uncaring what becomes of him. “I love her. Please.”

Still Erebus taunts him. “Three. Two...”

Roc grips the woman’s neck so tightly, blood vessels burst in her eyes. The molting worsens as her mouth flounders open and closed. Gray spreads over her skin. Before she finishes turning into stone, he roars, grips her hair with his free hand and yanks. Her head detaches, taking her spine with it.

“Nooo!” Solar shouts, reaching for her.

By the time her pieces hit the ground, she’s fully stone and already ashing.

Erebus laughs and laughs and laughs. “Her death came too late. She died, and you’re cursed anyway.”

The other Astra focus on the jubilant god, raising their weapons. But as they rush for him, the phantoms come alive, swarming the entire group of warlords. Their weapons fail, swords break and daggers shatter before contact. The men trip over their own feet, barely able to remain upright. Solar is swarmed.

A blood-coated Roc rushes toward his Commander. As soon as Solar notices his approach, he jumps up, swinging a sword.

Roc dodges and unsheathes a sword of his own. Metal clangs against metal as he meets Solar’s next strike. There’s a wild, grief-stricken glaze in the male’s eyes.

“You killed her,” Solar snarls. “You killed my Allanah.”

“I thought to spare you from... I hoped to spare us all. I...”

Solar launches a second attack. Roc blocks and returns a blow. They are predators, and they make no mistakes between them. Unlike the others, they encounter no problems with faulty weapons, every strike true. They fight with sublime skill, exuding a rare mastery of their bodies, each able to predict his opponent’s every move and adjust his stance accordingly.

Two bears locked in a cage, neither willing to retreat.

“I don’t wish to kill you, Solar.”

“If you hope to survive this day, you’ll have to.”

“I did what I thought was right!”

“Because you saw no other way. But I did! Why didn’t you trust me?”

They scream the accusations at each other, Solar’s combat growing more vicious. They move so quickly, wounds seem to appear out of nowhere. A gash here. Swelling or a bruise there. Neither male heals. Because of the curse?

Roc releases his weapons long enough to slash with his claws, then crouches to catch the daggers before they ever hit the ground. He stabs his friend, his Commander, in both of his thighs.

Solar stumbles, and Roc presses his advantage, moving behind him and placing a dagger at the hollow of his throat.

Erebus claps, as if he’s witnessing a sporting event, his team winning. His phantoms rip through the Astra with ease.

The man in the black robe displays no emotion. The women at his sides sob.

Between harsh pants, Roc pleads, “Don’t make me do this, Commander. You won’t recover.”

“I’m no longer your Commander, and I’m no longer your brother.” Solar laughs, crazed, blood staining his teeth. He continues to hold the sword, the tip resting in the ground. “The curse is indeed upon us. Can you feel it? I’ve lost my love, and with my death, so will you. You, the challenge winner, will take my place as leader. You’ll become the one to wed and slay the virgin bride. One day, you’ll find your gravita. If you don’t kill her, Erebus or your men will do it for you, and my pain will become yours. Enjoy it with my compliments, Roc.”

With that, Solar swings his sword, the tip arching up. His head flies off his neck, his body turning to stone as it topples.