The centaur charged Kincade, swinging what appeared to be a flail. The chain snapped taut, the spiked ball whistled through the air. The horse part of the creature was healthy, but the man was so riddled with blackened veins, she was surprised he remained upright.
Kincade waited until the last second, then ducked under the swirling weapon before leaping to the side, slashing out with his half sword, leaving a gaping gash across his abdomen. The centaur gave a bellow of pain, then bucked, one of his hooves striking Kincade in the thigh.
She expected him to be limping, but realized he’d turned to solid rock at the last second, and she released the breath she’d been holding.
Then her attention was drawn to the valkyrie when she took flight. Her beautiful wings were molten, the fringes of the feathers tinged a dirty gray with infection.
Ascher stood in place as she swooped low, thrusting a double-edged spear at his chest. He grabbed the wooden pole under the tip with his bare hands, then used his weight to pull her out of the sky. Unfortunately, she loosened her grip at the last second to avoid crashing and rose into the air again.
Ascher didn’t hesitate, turning and launching the spear at the giant cyclops bearing down on Ryder. The monster knocked it aside like it was nothing more than a toothpick, not even pausing in his charge. The big beast roared, spittle flying, revealing the flat, yellowed teeth it used to crack bones. The cyclops’ greenish skin had turned an unhealthy shade of gray, his fat, black veins courtesy of the infection clearly visible, even from a distance. He lifted a giant, spiked maul in his large fist and slammed the large hammer down on Ryder.
To her surprise, Ryder sported claws and fangs, his large frame bulking up even further. He brought up his shield, and held his ground while the giant tried to pound him into the ground, Ryder’s feet sliding across the stone surface. On the fourth hit, the shield cracked and began to splinter, and the crowd went wild.
On an upward swing, Ryder grabbed the handle of the maul. When the cyclops shook his weapon, trying to dislodge the wolf, Ryder used the momentum to leap toward the cyclops’ face. Using what remained of his shield, he launched the wooden spikes at the cyclops’ vulnerable eye.
On the third try, the last makeshift spear struck true. The cyclops roared and began to cartwheel his arms, one lucky swing sending Ryder flying through the air. He hit hard and rolled. The giant didn’t hesitate, though he couldn’t see, and began stomping the ground, until the arena’s floor shook with the force.
“Get up!” Morgan jumped to her feet, yelling at Ryder at the top of her lungs.
He didn’t hesitate, his wolf bursting from his skin in the next second, and began to nip and tear into the cyclops. Without his sight, the cyclops became easy prey…as long as Ryder could continue to avoid the wild swings of the giant’s meaty fists.
The ground began to shake, and Morgan twisted to see the leshy shoot vines through the stone floor, displacing the cobblestones. The vines erupted a few feet away from Draven, trying to ensnare the siren. Morgan had always admired the graceful way Draven could move, never more so than now as he leapt, spun, and twisted out of the way as vine after vine shot through the air, trying to impale him. But Morgan knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up indefinitely.
The leshy seemed to grow, his feet becoming rooted…until he was able to draw strength from the very ground where he stood.
Draven must have realized the same thing. The leshy should’ve been a lush green, but his translucent skin made him appear almost black. His long hair of branches and beard of moss framed yellow eyes that oozed a dark, sappy liquid. More vines shot from the creature as the stems continued to thicken, resembling a tangled mess from trying and failing to ensnare its prey.
Draven gave a cocky smile and grabbed hold of the nearest knot.
In seconds, the vines began to wither, dripping water all over the floor, as if Draven was sucking the moisture out of the vegetation. The leshy twisted, the vines coiling frantically like a snake’s tail, desperate to escape, but Draven refused to give up. When a large vine snapped off, the leshy gave a horrible screech that hurt her eardrums.
Ignoring him, Draven gathered the tough vine, and gave a sharp whistle before tossing it through the air. Kincade turned, caught the makeshift rope, and began to create a lasso. Kincade’s clothes took the brunt of the beating, his gargoyle stone surface keeping him relatively safe, but she could sense he was flagging.
He quickly looped the rope, but instead of launching it through the air, he flung it on the ground in front of the stampeding horse. When the centaur front hoof landed in the loop of the lasso, Kincade jerked back with all his considerable might, the momentum yanking the beast to the ground with a vicious thud. As the centaur struggled to stand, Kincade didn’t hesitate, leaping into the air and bringing his sword down. Instead of aiming for the man, he struck the blade deep into the horse’s chest. To her surprise, the horse tried to rise, his hide quivering before he dropped back to the ground, his sides billowing one last time before falling still.
Though Morgan knew it was survival of the fittest, her heart hurt to see such a majestic beast fall.
The cyclops was on the ground, unmoving, while Ryder used his claws and fangs to finish ripping out his throat. Black blood covered the arena.
Only the valkyrie and leshy remained.
“Declare them winners.” Morgan turned toward Katar. “Call off the fight.”
“No.” Katar was leaning forward in his seat, pouting as he watched his fighters being torn apart.
The leshy was turning brittle, no longer able to keep up with being drained, and unable to pull enough nutrients from the earth. Unwilling to admit defeat, Morgan saw a slash of metal slash through the air, and a set of tiger claws raked across Draven’s side.
Ascher wasn’t in much better shape. The valkyrie managed to retrieve her spear, repeatedly whittling away at Ascher. Not that he didn’t give as good as he got. Almost every inch of the valkyrie was singed.
Fuck with playing fair.
“On the count of three?” Morgan glanced at Atlas, giving him a playful smile.
Without missing a beat, he nodded. “Three.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Morgan and Atlas moved as one, leaping over the railing together. While Atlas dropped straight to the ground, Morgan launched herself through the air, ignoring Katar’s screech of denial. She hit the valkyrie mid-flight, the impact sending them into a wicked tailspin, and they crashed hard to the stone ground.
Breath knocked out of her, Morgan rolled, coming up into a crouch a few feet away. Shouting and cheering erupted throughout the stadium, amplifying the sounds until their foot-stomping thudded in her chest. Loki jumped off her shoulder, and charged the valkyrie with a snarl, his whole body bristling.
The valkyrie reached out as if to snatch at the pup when Ascher came out of nowhere, morphing into his hellhound form in seconds and smacked hard into the valkyrie before she could take flight, sending burned feathers bursting into the air.
He grabbed hold of her neck with his powerful jaws and gave a vicious twist, the crack of bones snapping audible even from the distance, and the once-beautiful woman slumped forward into a heap. Once his prey was down, Loki spun and danced, snapping at the fallen feathers, giving them a vicious shake, before bounding back to her to deposit his conquered feather foe at her feet.
By the time she stood, snatching up the pup to her chest, the rest of the guys were heading toward her. She glanced to the right to see the leshy was nothing more than a pile of twigs, having been ripped apart until he resembled nothing more than kindling.
Morgan grinned at the men, so happy to have them back relatively unharmed, she didn’t care when they surrounded her in a protective formation. She inspected each of them, touching and prodding their injuries until she was satisfied they only had superficial wounds.