Rosinanti: Rise of the Dragon Lord (Rosinanti Series Book 3) Page 41

  The stands were filled with still figures, sparsely populating the vast space. Squinting his crimson gaze through the night, he made out a familiar uniform adorning every single one. Champions of The Faithful, their faces frozen in horror and pain at the moment of their deaths. Many of their heads slumped off to one side, the result of a snapped neck. Others were missing limbs or sported large gaping holes in their torsos. All of them were held upright by jagged shards of stone that erupted through their bodies, keeping them in a seated position.

  Movement on the other side of the flaming circle he had created drew Valentean’s attention. Standing fifty meters away from him was Kayden, his glowing purple eyes unblinking as they locked onto his smaller brother, brow furrowed with concentration, lips quaking with emotional rage. Before Kayden, on the ground, was Vahn, pitched forward on his knees with his forearms in the dirt. Valentean noted that the old man seemed unharmed, his hands bound together in front of his chest by stone shackles. Vahn looked fearfully up at Valentean, and the animus warrior was unsure as to whether his father was concerned for his own safety or that of his sons. Valentean slowly raised his eyes, burning pools of crimson meeting a pulsation of amethyst light shining from a face so like his own and yet so vastly different.

  “So,” Kayden said, spreading his arms out wide as if showing off his new renovations, “here we are again.”

  Valentean remained silent and studied Kayden. The flames surrounding his body began to shrink until they were no more than knee-high. Kayden’s face was ashen; the purple glow of his stare seemed to sap the color from his cheeks as it blazed brighter than ever. His body language was slumped, a far cry from his usual proud posture.

  “Once more, we find ourselves back here, Valentean. Once more, we stand against one another on this hallowed ground. Once more, we face off before the lifeless eyes of soulless bags of meat.” He gestured wildly at his prop audience. Valentean noted that Kayden’s arms were shaking. “But this time, we’re competing for more than honor, more than glory, more than the title of Champion Animus of Terra!” Kayden reached down, grabbing Vahn by the front of his hair, wrenching the old man up to his knees. Vahn winced in pain, making desperate eye contact with Valentean. There was a slight, almost imperceivable shake of his head. Was he telling his son not to fight? To leave him to death? That would never happen.

  Save me, Vahn’s voice echoed through Valentean’s head. Please, son. Save me.

  “This time, we’re fighting to finally once and for all see who is the greatest son of Vahn Burai!” Kayden raised one arm to the sky, and the stones holding Vahn by the wrists suddenly jerked the old man into the air. Vahn soared up to the highest reaches of the arena before dropping safely along the upper lip of the circular structure.

  Val, came another voice, Seraphina’s voice, filling his head with its melodic tone.

  “Tonight, we learn who is the true heir to the Burai legacy!”

  Val, don’t hurt him! The pleading voice of his princess gave Valentean pause. His head cocked to the right as though she were actually standing beside him.

  “Tonight, I transform the place of your greatest triumph into your ultimate failure!”

  Please, Val. You can’t hurt my Kayden. His blood bubbled. He recalled with blazing clarity how Seraphina had spoken of Kayden when they had come together upon the Dreamscape. How she had begged for him to allow his demented brother to live. He knew they had tousled. Kayden’s hands had lain upon the flesh of his beloved. But was it all conflict? Had some part of Seraphina’s heart gone out to Kayden through the trauma of their battle?

  “This arena will be your tomb, Valentean, and I will bury you beneath mountains, marking your grave with the grandeur and spectacle that my ultimate victory deserves!”

  Please, Val. Please don’t kill him. No one has ever touched me the way Kayden has. Seraphina’s voice was purring in his ear now, practically vibrating at the memory. A part of Valentean’s mind tried to quiet the voice, tried to remind himself that this was not Seraphina. It was the disguised words of Ignis herself, trying desperately to make him lose control. He knew all of this…and he did not care.

  Please, Val. I love Kayden!

  Something within Valentean’s heart and mind broke simultaneously. A switch had been thrown that unlocked the demon essence that scorched his soul. The chaos rose like never before, filling him uninhibited with its world-destroying fury. It was intoxicating, it was thrilling, and had his heart not been filled with such infinite hatred, Valentean might have even found joy in the ecstasy of such a moment.

  “What’s wrong, brother?” Kayden called out. “Are you scared? You have nothing to say? No brave final declaration? No last-minute attempt to save my soul? What is it, Valentean? What’s occurring in that feeble mind of yours?”

  Valentean remained quiet and still. The echo of Seraphina’s words fanned the intense inferno of his hatred. Smoke began to rise from every pore. The red light of chaos in his eyes intensified.

  “Say something, fool!” Kayden screeched.

  “Die,” Valentean whispered. Then, he attacked.

  Kayden gasped in excitement as Valentean thrust his arms forward, summoning a burst of red flame that flew at him with the speed and power of a lightning bolt. Kayden smiled as he brought his arms in front of his chest, pulling the rocks on either side of him together and up, forming a shield in front of his body. This was the first step in their final glorious dance of battle, which would—

  Kayden was taken from his thoughts when Valentean’s attack shredded through his stony shield, shattering it into thousands of pieces as it continued to move uninhibited through the air before smacking Kayden in the chest with a powerful eruption of searing heat.

  What?

  Kayden’s shock hit him harder than the powerful explosion that tore the flesh upon his chest and threw him back twenty meters. The power in that attack, the ferocity, it was so…unexpected. Kayden spun to his feet, blocking out the blistering burns along his sternum and the smell of burning flesh and hair. He turned to face Valentean, prepared to rush him and take back the advantage, but his brother was already moving. Valentean crossed the distance between them at a speed Kayden found to be maddening. The ebony-clad animus attempted to leap back and away, but Valentean was too quick, too powerful.

  He connected with a tight fist surrounded by fire, which slammed into Kayden’s solar plexus. The black dragon of the Rosinanti felt a second explosion tear through his skin as the impact of his brother’s mighty fist drove the air from his lungs.

  What?

  As soon as Kayden’s shoulders smacked into the ground, he tucked his knees to his chest and rolled back, coming up to his feet. Before he could catch his breath, Valentean was all over him. His brother charged in with a flaming punch meant to cave in Kayden’s face. The speed and power behind it showed Kayden it was meant not to disable but to kill. It was all the larger animus warrior could do to throw his body off to the side in an awkward roll, which tweaked his shoulder.

  Kayden stood in a ready stance, awaiting the inevitable flash of advance that would be his brother. Valentean swung once more, but Kayden was ready for him. He knocked away Valentean’s next punch and slammed his forehead into his smaller brother’s face. Valentean’s head recoiled back for only one second before it snapped front once more, completely unfazed by the maneuver. Kayden gasped as an eruption of fire burst from Valentean’s left palm at point-blank range, scorching him, engulfing him, and sending him crashing to the ground once more, rolling to douse the blanket of flame that had spread along his now tattered black robes.

  Who was this creature? What was it? It could not be Valentean. His brother had always been a gentle and kind soul, to his great fault. His battle tactics were avoid and disable, block and counterattack. Whatever this beast was that had so callously knocked Kayden around the arena, it could not be the same person he had grown up beside.

  Kayden stood on shaking legs, arms immediately rising in panic to ward o
ff any potential assault, but none came. Instead, Valentean stood calmly, not even defensive in his stance. The ground around the point of impact still crackled with fire, and Valentean flicked the corner of his crimson coat through it. He stared at Kayden with the casual indifference one might show a harmless animal. There was no fear, no trepidation. What there was, though, was a small, almost invisible smirk, a mocking, jeering humor at the ease with which Kayden had been dispatched.

  The Spirit of Darkness lowered his arms, hate blazing through every atom of his being. This was some sick joke of fate. There was no way that such a battle should have been possible. He was Kayden Burai, the black dragon of the Rosinanti. He was the Spirit of Darkness, the original power of Terra. No one and nothing could brush him away with the casual ease that this horrid fool had just displayed. The darkness swirled within him, electrifying his being. The purple hue of his gaze grew brighter and stronger, and Kayden felt his already impressive power increase. He waited to see if Valentean would make a move, if he would rush in once more with blinding quickness, but no attack came.

  Instead, his brother simply turned sidelong and locked his left arm behind the small of his back. Valentean casually held his right arm out in front of his body lazily as though this were some kind of training session with a child. His flaming eyes narrowed, and he spoke.

  “Attack, dead man,” Valentean said, his voice flat and monotone under the burden of what seemed to be a rage so crushing it blotted out his emotions.

  Kayden screamed in fury, reaching back to summon two massive boulders, which ripped themselves free from the ground. He charged at his brother, and their battle continued.

  Nevick slowed only once during his ascent up the side of Aleksandra’s fortress. It came as he passed beside the balcony of the central tower, just below his intended target, when he heard the sound of brutal battle raging within the confines of Aleksandra’s throne room. Magic crackled the air, and cries of exertion reached his ears as he desperately tried to blot them out.

  How he longed to forego this assignment and erupt like a force of nature into the midst of the conflict, standing beside his friends and allies in their most crucial hour. But he stayed his course. Nevick had a job to do, an important job, same as those who valiantly battled against the horror that was Aleksandra. Nevick tried to shut out the memory of his own struggle against the mighty sorceress. He had thrown everything at her, all of his strength and prowess. She had smiled in response. The totality of his defeat on that day was as terrifying as it was humiliating.

  Nevick had once believed himself to be the strongest man on the planet, and perhaps that was still true. He had yet to come across a member of his own species who could match him power for power. But this was a whole other universe of beings. These were gods and beasts and legendary warriors of people long forgotten. What good were the fists of even the strongest man on the planet in the face of such odds?

  As he continued to climb, Nevick soberly admitted that his power was naught more than that of an ant when compared to the elemental might of Aleksandra. But there was something he could still do. There was a vital role for him to play in this grand stratagem—destroy The Eye, and limit her power. Then, let Valentean and Seraphina finish the job.

  Then the people of Casid will finally be avenged, he told himself. He thought back on his slain family of villagers, of their faces filled with life and joy. Then, he remembered them in their final moments. Their expressions contorted in terror at the moment of their deaths. Many had born bruises of gushing gashes that leaked life out from throats and bellies. The heat of the flames still burned his skin, and the memory of those who enacted the single worst day of his life urged him onward.

  Then, his mind inevitably traveled to the second incident. The day Valentean and General Zouka had come to the remnant of Casid. Nevick gritted his teeth as he remembered with perfect clarity the pompous look on the general’s face as he stood there amongst the burning corpse of a once teeming village, with Deana struggling under his boot. A growl of anger rumbled from the depths of his chest, and Nevick climbed onward. He needed that anger now. That rage would keep him focused on the task at hand. That fury would drive him toward his duty.

  Finally, Casid’s protector laid his broad palm flat against the top of the central tower and pulled himself up onto the roof. He immediately brought one arm up to shield his eyes from the crimson glare that emanated from his massive target. The Eye was utterly immense, towering over him. The chaos contained within made the roof unnaturally humid, and his skin began to perspire in the wet heat. His attention was drawn by movement at the base of the looming diamond, and his vision settled on perhaps the last thing he ever expected to find up there atop Aleksandra’s fortress.

  It was Deana.

  The love of his life lay at the foot of The Eye, holding herself up with both arms as her legs spread limply out to the side. Her face was slick with sweat, and strands of hair were plastered against her cheeks. Her eyes were red as though she had been crying for some time now. He opened his mouth to question her presence, his heart thumping wildly with panic at this unexplained sight.

  “Nevick, behind you!” she screamed through her sobs, cutting off her beloved’s words. Nevick did not take even a second to process her warning. He instantly turned, bringing his arms up in defense and caught the black-armored forearms of General Zouka centimeters before his twin fists were set to cave in Nevick’s frontal lobe.

  “Greetings, fool,” the Gorram spat at his hated adversary. A mask of rage darkened Nevick’s already intense and focused glower. “I knew they’d send you for this. I wanted to make sure you’d feel comfortable, so I invited your woman. Your other friends, the inventor and his brother…they sadly won’t be joining us.”

  Nevick’s blood stopped flowing at the general’s words. Mitchell and Michael…could he really have…? Mana instantly found the big man’s biceps, and with a bellow of hate and rage, he flung Zouka back. The man-mountain stumbled but righted his footing in the nick of time. He looked absolutely horrid. Burned and scarred over nearly every centimeter of his face, Zouka wore the horrors of this war upon his flesh.

  “Mitchell and Michael…” Nevick said slowly.

  Zouka only snickered in response. “So, those are their names,” he said back, folding his arms over a massive armored chest. “Well…those were their names.”

  Terra stopped spinning through the cosmos in that moment, the world crystallizing around Nevick, Zouka, and Deana in one horrifying instant. “Liar,” Nevick spat, refusing to believe that it was true.

  “Am I?” Zouka asked, a taunting smile spreading over his deformed face. The sound of Deana’s sobs answered that question. “The continued slaughter of Casid’s populace has become something of a hobby of mine. It brings me untold bouts of joy at erasing every remnant of your home from this world. It’s almost a shame that after tonight, that passion will be over and done with.”

  Nevick heard a deafening cry of hate and rage. By the time he realized it had come from his own throat, he was already racing along the massive circular rooftop, ready for the fight of his life.

  Vahn watched on in silent horror as the twin points of movement that were his sons converged upon one another. Kayden heaved two large boulders at Valentean, the first of which the red-clad animus warrior simply leapt over. For the second, it seemed Valentean sought a more practical demonstration of his newfound power. From his twin fists shot dueling bursts of orange flame that collided with the oncoming projectile in a booming explosion that threw Kayden back.

  Vahn winced as Kayden’s body smacked into the ground once more. The old man could feel the entire structure shiver with every mighty blow that his sons rained down upon one another. It broke Vahn’s heart to pieces. They were so much more than the boys he had taught. They were fundamental forces of Terra, nature given rage. This was not the tousle of children. This was how the gods made war. There would be no separating them this time. He was but one mortal man,
trapped hundreds of meters above the sight of this titanic conflict. Vahn felt completely and utterly helpless. One of his sons would die in this arena. And it looked as though it would be Kayden.

  His black-clad son erupted to his feet with a scream of fury so loud it reached Vahn’s ears even at this height. He rushed at Valentean, who still stood within the smoldering stones left in the wake of his defensive burst. Kayden swung at his brother with punches and kicks, many of which traveled too fast for Vahn to make out. Valentean, though, was always at least two seconds ahead of Kayden, dodging with such incredible ease. After several seconds of avoidance, Valentean jerked his head to the side, meeting Kayden’s oncoming punch with a wet and violent smack. It was Kayden who recoiled, clutching at his hand as he leapt back. Valentean, not yet done with his brother, jumped forward, striking Kayden with a vicious front kick to the chest, filling the air with a shock wave that made the structure beneath Vahn quake.

  Kayden’s concentration must have faltered in that moment, because the stones that bound Vahn’s hands together suddenly crumbled to pebbles and plummeted off the edge of the arena. Vahn rotated his aching wrists and marveled at the sight below him. He recalled with startling clarity how dumbstruck he had been by their first encounter within these walls. Back then, it was simply a tournament, a harmless exhibition. He had feared for them on that day, but there was also unctuous pride at all his boys had accomplished as warriors.

  Now though, the fear was quadrupled, mixed with smacking dread at knowing he was to lose one of them forever. Gone was the pride Vahn had once felt. The terror was all-consuming, and his limbs shook at the blind, helpless plight he now faced.