Aether's Mark (Lords of Krete Book 5) Page 7

  In truth, he couldn’t believe this day was finally here. The day when he and his men would prove themselves worthy. After this victory, they’d finally have a true home. They’d belong.

  The first thing he was going to do was start a family with his mate. He grinned, slashing his sword into an opponent. Perchance, not the best use of his thoughts, yet, if musings about what he was fighting for weren’t going to get him through this battle, what else would?

  Bolstered, he pressed forward, his army encroaching upon the front gardens of the castle. Behind him, fierce Amazon war cries shattered the sky. Scattered amongst their ranks were the giants, each paired with a dryad ready to use the castle’s gardens against their enemy.

  One of his men cried out as a human slashed his sword, gutting him. Nay! Theron rushed to his comrade’s aid, a quick slice of his claws separating the enemy’s head from his body.

  Around him, his men formed a circle, shielding him while he provided assistance. He knelt beside the Karkinos male, pressing a hand to his flooding wound. “Cyane!” he bellowed, and a moment later, she was at his side, the healing waters of Mount Ida pouring onto the male’s injury.

  “I’ve got him now,” she murmured, forming a platform of liquid beneath the male to carry him to safety.

  Theron wiped the blood from his palms on the grass and caressed her cheek. So brave, so compassionate. “By the gods, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a mate like you, but I swear I’m going to fight my hardest to ensure we seize victory today. And every day after that. I love you, Cyane.”

  She beamed up at him, a perfect vision of his heart. “And I love you, Theron.”

  Rising, he towed her to her feet and planted a kiss upon her lips, sealing his vows and his love. With Water’s Mark.

  EARTH’S MARK

  Kleoptoleme

  “Are you certain about this, lass?” Arctus inquired of her for the hundredth time.

  Kleo shook her head at him and pressed a hand to her growing belly. “Oh, I’m going to fight. On my terms. I can lead my warriors from my horse and slay mine enemy with my arrows. I won’t risk our babe for any war.”

  “Aye, that makes me glad to hear.” He caressed a hand down her cheek. Together, they painted each other’s faces with the war paint of her people, thick bold lines in white and black to drive fear into the hearts of their enemies. Oh, yes, they weren’t mere mortals like the army of Minos.

  They were so much more.

  “I will fight at your side and protect our child as you are.” He gave a solemn dip of his head, and she was grateful for his devotion. Their families would have had them avoid the battle altogether, but it wasn’t in either of their natures to stay at home, safe, while others fought for their freedom. She pulled him close, savoring his kiss. “If you fight well, warrior, there just might be a reward waiting for you afterward.”

  Arctus

  “Oh, aye?” Arctus grinned at the flirtatious note in his mate’s voice. Since becoming with child, it seemed, all she wanted was to spend their days in bed. Not that he complained. If his mate sought satisfaction, it damned well would come from him.

  Together, they exited the cave and commanded the Amazon warriors, alongside a handful of Gargarean fighters, to the front lines of their army, behind the Karkinos. They’d been training together for some time now and both armies knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

  Once the battle began, there was little time to do anything but loose arrow after arrow, first toward the front, and then the rear of their enemy’s ranks. The Karkinos flooded the space between them. Eventually, he and Kleo had to stop and catch their breath. Astride him, Kleo panted heavily, the bow falling limp at her side. Aye, his arm was burning, too. From their vantage point atop the hill, they surveyed the armies mingling, spinning in this dance of death.

  His brothers were there, fighting, while he and Kleo issued orders to their legions in the army. This was his place. At his mate’s side. He glanced at the formidable female who commanded not only the hearts of her warriors, but his as well.

  This was his place. It had only taken him a lifetime to realize it.

  Now that he had, nothing was going to stop him from defending it.

  He was going to claim Earth’s Mark.

  Air’s Mark

  Airla

  “Is it time?” Airla peered at Lycus, in his wolf form on the ground, and back up at the giant who carried her in his massive hand. Ahead, the battle thickened, the lines between armies blurring so that it was difficult to tell how much they’d advanced on the castle.

  Yet, they were advancing. They were gaining ground. They were winning.

  It was only a matter of minutes before they’d reach the castle gates and storm inside where the pathetic human King was holed up, shielded by his guards.

  Ha. Even she, a nymph, was out here on the battlefield, fighting. What a coward he was.

  “Aye, it’s time.” Lycus inclined his head, her fierce, savage male. The heart of a beast and the devotion of a bonded male. Back on Mount Ida, their babe, in the form of a sapling, grew steadily each day. Soon, she’d emerge from her tree and they’d welcome her into their arms. Airla was determined to do so in a real home. Not a dank cave like they’d been living in.

  Resolve strengthened, she flowed her gift through her hands, which illuminated an icy hue, and scanned the gardens for the plants that would aid them in their mission. There. A handful of giant oaks lined the side of the forest. She clamped onto their roots, snapping them up like whips, and snaked them around the legs of the human soldiers. Argh!

  Lycus

  Lycus howled, signaling the other dryads to copy Airla’s attack. From their vantage points upon their giant carriers, they seized onto every plant growing about the castle grounds, employing them to ensnare and capture the human soldiers.

  From that point, the Amazons and Karkinos made quick work of anyone not willing to surrender. After all, this might be war, but their quarrel was with the King, not his subjects. Lycus snorted. A King who couldn’t even be bothered to attend his own attack. What a pathetic fool. He couldn’t wait to uproot the usurper and place his brother Rhoetus upon the rightful throne. Then everything would be as it should. The family he so desperately longed for with Airla would at last be safe enough to come to fruition.

  He cast a glimpse at his mate, who fiercely battled with every ounce of energy in her nymph body, who fought against her nature to protect those she loved, and his hearts brimmed with the desire to rise to her challenge. To be the worthy male she so clearly deserved. Aye, she was everything he’d never dreamed he’d have. If dreams weren’t worth fighting for, then nothing was.

  Snarling ferociously, he charged into the midst of the battle, slaying his enemies and claiming his future.

  Staking everything he had on Air’s Mark.

  Fire’s Mark

  Enyo

  Enyo beheaded yet another minotaur while Demoleon stole cautiously around a turn in the labyrinth, the element of surprise on their side. The sword of Aegeus was delightful in her grasp, so sharp, so ruthless. Every minotaur who caught sight of it cowered. Of course, none could be left alive. They were simply far too dangerous and too much risk was at stake to permit them mercy.

  Not that Enyo had any room for mercy left when it came to minotaurs. She rounded the corner and stole inside the next chamber. Strange tingling spread across the back of her neck and along her wings. Something was wrong. She glanced at Demoleon, and the same caution tightened his features.

  “Weren’t we just in this chamber five minutes ago?” She crept forward, the memory of the battle flashing in her mind. Right there. She placed a hand along the wall, recalling the press of the stone against her back as the minotaur had slammed her into it. Demoleon had charged him, knocking him aside and spewed his dragon’s fire across the minotaur’s form.

  Damn. This wasn’t right. Those bastard minotaurs. They’d somehow locked her and Demoleon into a labyrinth inside thei
r minds.

  She shook her head. It didn’t matter. Determined, she met Demoleon’s stare. They were awakened, and with her mate by her side, nothing would stop her from claiming their future.

  Demoleon

  Demoleon snarled and punched his fist into the wall. Bloody minotaurs. This entire time, had they been fighting the beasts, or simply been trapped within their own minds?

  “Ho there,” a cheery feminine voice called from the corridor. “Are you going to just stand there or would you like to kill some minotaurs today?”

  Demoleon whipped around toward the entrance. A fierce Amazon warrior propped against the doorway, and behind her, one of the most menacing males he’d ever viewed, stood with his arms crossed and his glare sharp enough to cut through flesh.

  “Ahh…”

  “I’m Kyme, and this is my mate, Arsenius. When we heard there were more minotaurs on Krete,” her lips curved mischievously, “well, we couldn’t resist.”

  Kyme? Arsenius? Weren’t they the ones Rhoetus had mentioned, who’d rescued the nymphs?

  Demoleon clamped his jaw shut to stop gaping and swung his scrutiny to Enyo. She gave a sharp nod. “While we appreciate your help, how can we be sure any of this is real? The minotaurs seem to have trapped us in some kind of labyrinth inside our minds.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Kyme jerked her head at the imposing male behind her. “He’s a son of Ares, and when his frenzy takes over, no one, not even those blasted minotaurs, can break inside his mind. Trust me, he’s the perfect weapon.”

  No mistaking the look of adoration passing between those two.

  “Mindless, you say?” Enyo sent Demoleon a devious smile. “I might have just the ally who could help us win.”

  Demoleon nodded and grabbed Enyo’s hand. This was the aid they’d so urgently required. Come at the very moment of their desperation. By the gods, this had to mean victory was within their grasp. He pressed a kiss to Enyo’s lips, a kiss of a thousand promises. For triumph, for glory, for the future awaiting them. All they need do was pass through the corridor.

  Together.

  And seize Fire’s Mark.

  Chapter 9

  Rhoetus rode through the thinning army, across the lowered drawbridge and toward the castle’s inner gates. The lump in his throat protested as he attempted to swallow. This was it. The first time he’d set foot inside this place since that fateful day.

  Today was the day he’d become King.

  And rule over his land, his people.

  Alone. He scowled at his fisted hands in front of him. Damn. Nothing he could change about that. The path before him was set. There was no going back, only forward. Only ever forward.

  Shoulders straight, spine rigid, he trotted up the wide staircase toward the imposing wooden doors.

  Lycus, transforming from wolf into centaur, paced to his side. “Brother.” He bowed his head and swept his arm for Rhoetus to pass through.

  Clenching his jaw, he placed his hands on the smooth wood and pushed, shoving the doors open. “Minos,” he bellowed, his thunderous voice echoing into the vast emptiness. Where was the swiney bastard?

  Lycus stomped to his side and they exchanged raised brows. His army stole inside behind him, fanning out to search the adjoining rooms.

  A hundred paces ahead, a wide staircase led to a platform governed by a single obsidian throne. The high arched dome above him resounded the clanking of his hooves about the empty hall. Two staircases ascended on either side, to the east and west. Beyond the throne loomed a majestic stained glass window, only the scenes which had once been portrayed—of centaur victories—now projected human tales. He curled his lip at the offensive images.

  Where was the false King?

  Rhoetus gripped his sword, ready to behead the fiend and claim his birthright.

  “Empty!”

  “There’s no one here.”

  “They’re gone, milord,” his soldiers called from each of the alcoves.

  Minos was gone.

  The bloody cur.

  Rhoetus fisted his hands and whipped his head. This would be no victory at all if he didn’t even get to defeat his enemy.

  “We’ll find him eventually.” Lycus slapped him on the shoulder. “For now, let’s take the victory we fought so hard for, heh?” He extended his arm toward the throne. “It’s yours, my King.”

  Around him, the soldiers grouped together in a circle and, one by one, dropped to their knees, fists braced over hearts. Chants of “My King” rumbled through the chamber, growing steadily louder.

  Steeling his shoulders, he targeted his gaze on the throne. The same one his father had occupied for so many years. It never should have been passed to him like this, yet he would do his best to make his parents proud.

  Rhoetus strode forward, each step heavy and echoing through the hall, until he reached the chair. Turning about, he sank onto the throne.

  Claiming his place as King.

  The moment he perched upon it, a sizzling jolt spiked through his veins, freezing his body and lashing his limbs to the throne. The entrance doors slammed shut with an ominous thud.

  A chortle cackled from behind the throne. “Now, now, Lord Rhoetus. You didn’t presume it would be that easy, did you?”

  Minthe couldn’t travel to Krete any faster than this boat carried her, but she viewed across the boundaries of time and space—through the stars.

  She sat cross-legged on the ship’s deck and lifted her face to the sky. It didn’t matter that it was daytime. The stars always shone, even if one couldn’t detect them. Stretching her powers, she called upon the starlight to illuminate her hands and open a passageway for her to peer through.

  Rhoetus. Where are you?

  Squinting, she leaned close as the vision came into focus. There he was. Proud and strong, and in some kind of castle.

  His castle? Could it be?

  She bit her bottom lip as Rhoetus marched forward through a kneeling crowd, toward an obsidian throne, carved smooth and mirrored as glass. He approached the throne and she held her breath.

  As he posed upon the destined seat, joy misted tears in her eyes.

  He’s waited so long for this.

  But then, something went wrong. She spun the vision toward his face, and pain sliced through his expression. His body bucked as though he wrenched his limbs, but they appeared frozen to the throne.

  A menacing cackle iced down her spine. “Now, now, Lord Rhoetus. You didn’t presume it would be that easy, did you?”

  No. Minthe inhaled a gasp. It couldn’t be.

  Yet from the shadows behind the throne a male emerged. No, a youth? His countenance didn’t appear nearly old enough to be this famed King Minos. No weathering of age kissed his features, his blackened orbs, nor his harshly curved mouth.

  He wore an ornate costume, red silk printed with a flowered pattern, the robe descending to his knees where it was met with tall boots. A hanging belt strapped about his waist, and long sleeves fell from his shoulders. He was tall and lanky, but not powerful in body. That didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Words could be a potent weapon. The crown upon his golden-haired head was fashioned of twisted branches interspersed with red gemstones, the whole thing cast of pure gold.

  He acted no more than a spoiled child. She scrunched her nose in distaste. The foul fiend. This was the one responsible for murdering thousands?

  Oh, gods. What he did plan to do with Rhoetus and the others?

  The snide male advanced to Rhoetus’s side. Half a dozen of his soldiers lunged forward, but Minos raised a hand and they collapsed to the ground, as if frozen.

  “Tsk.” He bent toward Rhoetus, whose nostrils flared with intense fury. “Call your men off, before they join their friends.”

  Rhoetus jerked his chin. “Stay back.”

  “Good.” The male’s snide lips curled. “I hope you didn’t actually believe you’d seize my throne from me, did you?” He cocked his head at Rhoetus, hands clasped behind
his back. “You see, I’ve spent much time calculating precisely how this moment would happen and, I must say, it pleases me greatly that you fell right into my grasp.”

  He paced to the wall, spun on his heel, and marched to the opposite wall. “A century ago, I let you and your pathetic kin flee, but I fathom now this was a mistake. All you did was breed harder,” he snarled, “and plot more. You should have let go of the past, centaur, because the past has a tendency to repeat itself. You’ve left me no choice but to simply remove you, each and everyone one of you, so this will never happen again.”

  No no. She had to help him. Somehow. Minthe concentrated, hard, until the answer came to her. Of course.

  Minos sank beside the throne, huffing. “A shame, truly. I wonder if you’ll scream like your father did?”

  Rhoetus jolted at the mention of his father’s death. No bloody way had King Cyllarus succumbed in such a manner. His father had been brave. Formidable. Indestructible.

  “Or perchance, you’ll whimper and cry, like your mother.” Minos sniggered malevolently.

  Rhoetus snapped, growling and sneering, lashing his entire body to attempt to break free.

  This monster had destroyed his family. He refused to allow Minos to ravage what remained of his home. His people.

  He would never surrender.

  This was not his path.

  He glanced in desperation toward Lycus, but his brother was focused on the doors and, likely, his mate, outside.

  Right. No one could help him out of this except himself. His warriors were frozen in place, and who knew what Minos would do to any who tried to aid Rhoetus? He couldn’t risk any of them.