Avenging (The Rising Series Book 3) (28 page)

In the salt-water pond near the cabin, Xanthus swam, taking position above Sara, who waited below. She was surrounded by sharks—courtesy of Triton. Xanthus could smell Sara’s fear leaking from her pores, tainting the water—a telltale sign that nothing was certain in the outcome of the situation. The other Dagonians, reeking of garlic and armed to the teeth, took positions along the shore of the pond, watching for the vrykolakas approach. Thane and his hellhounds took to the woods, laying in ambush.

Xanthus surfaced. All seemed calm. The stars twinkled above, and the crescent moon reflected off the surface of the water. Xanthus noticed something odd, a patch of sky where the stars did not shine. Darkness snuffed out the sparkling stars one by one, filling the sky with blackness. The vrykolakas approached from the east.

“They’re coming,” Straton said, pointing toward the starless sky.

“Let’s give them a welcome they won’t forget,” Pallas said with a sword and shield in his hands. Garlic oil not only shined over his skin, but he had dozens of cloves hanging off his weapon straps, which crossed his chest and hugged his waist.

Xanthus smiled. “Do you have enough garlic?”

Pallas grinned back. “I’m only thinking of the many females who would die if this splendid body were devoured. I have a responsibility to them.”

Xanthus laughed and shook his head. “Always thinking of others.”

“I’m glad you all can laugh at a time like this,” Drakōn said. “I, for one, don’t see anything remotely funny in this situation.”

“That’s where your problem is,” Pallas said. “If you can’t enjoy your work, you need to find a new profession.”

“I’m sorry to say,” Straton said, “but I agree with Drakōn. This situation is far from funny.”

“You don’t even need to be here, Doc,” Pallas said. “You’d do better to stay in the cabin and treat the wounded after the battle is over.”

Straton shook his head. “I may be a doctor, but I’m also a soldier, and I’m just as dangerous as you. Even more so, I’d wager.”

“Ooh,” Pallas said. “That sounds like a challenge. I’ll bet I can kill more vrykolakas than you.”

Straton shook his head. “I can’t believe you want to make a bet at a time like this.”

“Now’s the best time. So are we on?”

“Well, technically, the vrykolakas are already dead,” Straton said.

“Alright, I bet I can destroy more than you.”

Straton gave a hint of a smile. “Fine.”

“You guys better do less talking and more preparation,” Kyros said, “because they’re almost here.”

“We haven’t decided on the prize,” Pallas said.

The wind whipped around them and spread ripples across the water, carrying with it a musty and faintly putrid smell. Xanthus sank below the surface but kept watch on the scene unfolding above. The trees towering above the pond shook as vrykolakas landed on the branches. A single creature landed in front of Kyros. The beast threw his head back and drew in a deep breath through his nose. He lowered his head and narrowed his eyes. Kyros held his ground and raised his sword.

“Mmm, I can smell your blood… and your fear,” the vrykolakas growled through his sharp teeth. His smile widening as he looked around the pond, his eyes landing on the Dagonians one by one. “Garlic will not save you.” The vrykolakas hissed and laughed. “We will simply have to wash your dead bodies before eating you.”

“You’re not going to barter with us?” Kyros asked. “Perhaps offer to leave us alive in exchange for the daughter of Nikoleta?”

Xanthus had to hold himself back from shooting to the surface and roaring out a protest. He knew Kyros did not intend to deliver Sara into their hands, but the mere suggestion had him on the brink of madness. Instead, he forced himself to listen to the creature’s answer.

The vrykolakas’ wet laughter bellowed as drool dripped over his chin. “By all means, deliver the daughter of Nikoleta to us. But we will drain you of your blood and devour your flesh regardless.”

Kyros raised his sword, sunk into a crouch, and smiled darkly. “You’re welcome to try.”

The creature stepped back, smirking as he raised his hand and looked to the trees. “Troops, bring the daughter of Nikoleta to me. She is mine to feast on. You can share the rest. Leave no survivors and leave no evidence. I don’t want to see a single bone littered on the ground.”

A growl rumbled through the air. Xanthus felt the sound deep in his bones, terror washing over him. The vrykolakas’ head whipped around, his eyes widening in fear.

From the shadows of the trees, a monster leapt out and slammed the vrykolakas on the ground. It looked like a giant wolf, with prominent jaws and fangs longer than Xanthus’ forearm. The vrykolakas wailed and fought, but the creature made no move to bite his prey. This had to be a hellhound. Xanthus wondered what the creature was waiting for.

Dark mist poured into the clearing. Moments later, Thane followed. He looked different, transformed into a monster himself. At about nine feet tall, with a long, black cape and wild, glowing eyes—this demigod with power born of the Underworld was unfathomably more frightening than the vrykolakas.

“Please. Son of Thanatos, have mercy.”

His laughter rumbled low. “This
is
how I show mercy.” The demigod of death reached out his long fingers and touched the forehead of the creature. His flesh disintegrated like dry sand, leaving white bone in a pile of black dust.

The trees erupted as the vrykolakas took flight. They screeched as they flew toward the Dagonians.

Xanthus wanted to leap from the water and join the fight, but Sara’s safety was too important. Instead, he waited, ready to strike any undead creature that tried to take her.

The Dagonians fought, slicing their blades, cutting down creature after creature. The trees rumbled with the hellhounds as they, too, attacked the undead beasts. Kyros looked at Xanthus and nodded. Kyros then leapt and grabbed the ankle of a creature, pulling him from the sky. He swung him around as Xanthus swam down and turned to race up. Kyros let go, releasing the vrykolakas as Xanthus shot from the water. He slammed into the creature, catching him midflight and pulled him under. Wrapping his tail around the body, he wrenched on the head. It didn’t take much effort to pull it off the shoulders, decapitating the creature. These undead monsters might appear frightening, but they were more fragile than they looked. Still, their numbers made them formidable.

A large shark chomped the floating head and swallowed. He swam on unfazed for a moment, then he stopped and shuddered. Thrashing around, he coughed up the head and swam on, blood trailing from his gills. The shark was injured.

As the vrykolakas head spun around, floating through the water, Xanthus was shocked to see the fury on the face of the creature. The head was still alive. The body sank, thrashing at the bottom of the pond, and the jaws continued to chomp.

Xanthus grabbed the head by the hair. He surfaced, and then hurled it out of the pond. It slammed into a tree and tumbled to the ground. The skull crushed from the impact, but the jaws continued to snap. He retrieved the flailing body and tossed it from the pond as well.

On all sides of the water, Dagonians swung their blades, slicing at the creatures, severing limbs and dealing powerful blows. It was difficult to make out Thane in the darkness. But occasionally, Xanthus caught a shadow gliding through the trees. Like a ghost, the demigod materialized near a creature. The thing turned to leap away. Thane reached out his hand and the beast collapsed midflight, falling to the ground. His wings beat the air as he scrambled to get away, but he couldn’t seem to move from the spot. Thane rushed forward, brushing his fingertips across the beast’s wing. The creature disintegrated in a heap of dusty bones. Thane had only just destroyed one vrykolakas when he honed in on another and repeated his death touch. And then he all but disappeared, a shadow. Destruction accompanying everything the shadow touched. The air was filled with billowing dust.

A cry rent the air as Xanthus turned. It was Straton. A creature had come at him from behind just as he’d sliced another in half. The monster had him by the neck, his claws squeezing and blood pouring between his talons. Straton’s sword dropped from his limp fingers as the creature’s wings flapped, carrying him forward with his blood trailing behind. Xanthus had to force himself not to leap from the water and intervene. That was just the opportunity the creatures would be waiting for. Their prize floated below him. Watching his friend die while he did nothing went against his whole being. But Sara must be protected at all costs, including the cost of his friends’ lives.

Pallas roared, his sword rising as he raced to help Straton. As fast as Straton’s blood was flowing, he was too far away to get there in time. Xanthus was stunned when Sara flashed by him, streaking toward the surface. He roared, diving down to get the momentum he needed to follow her. If he were too late, she’d be in the vrykolakas’ hands.

As he broke through the water’s surface, he could see the vrykolakas had abandoned Straton and was flying toward Sara. Kyros ran at the creature from behind him, but he would not get there in time. Sara, with scarcely a hint of fear, reached out her hand. The vrykolakas’ momentum slowed and then he was flying back—onto Kyros’ blade. The skewered creature thrashed and fought, trying to turn toward Kyros, who swung another blade and sliced off the monster’s head.

Xanthus landed near Sara, who had dropped to her knees beside Straton. “Straton!” she cried as she pressed against the open wounds. “Oh please, don’t die. You can’t die! You saved me once. Now I have to save you.”

Xanthus’ heart clenched when he realized Straton had mere seconds to live. With the gaping slashes across his neck flowing like rivers of blood, there was no hope in saving him. The others must have also realized they were about to lose their friend, because each of them fought with a vengeance, cutting down beast after beast as the creatures attempted to descend on Sara.

Sara looked up at Xanthus—her hands red with blood. “Please Xanthus, I need to help him. Tell me what to do.”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do.” A short glance at Straton, and he knew… His blood flow had slowed to a trickle. His heart had stopped.

“He’s gone, moro mou.”

She shook her head in denial.

“Come on. We need to get you back to the—”

“Xanthus!” Kyros’ voice roared in fear as Xanthus felt red-hot pain slice through his chest. Sara screamed as he looked down to see the point of a sword poking out of his body.

Xanthus had killed hundreds in his lifetime. He was an expert when it came to delivering death. And he knew beyond any doubt… he was a dead man.

He looked up to see the horror on Sara’s face as he stumbled to the ground beside her. “Xanthus! Oh, no, no, no. This can’t be happening!” she said as she wrapped her arms around him and attempted to help him lie down. Sara sobbed. “You’re going to be alright. You can’t die. I won’t let you die.” She looked frantically around. “I need something…” Her eyes landed on the growing puddle of his blood. “Oh, gods. Xanthus, I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m sorry, moro mou—” He gasped.

“No! Don’t say it.”

Shudders shook his body. His chest tightened like it was being squeezed by a giant squid.

“Xanthus.” She pressed her bloodied hands against his face and made him look at her. Her eyes were pleading, desperate. “You can’t leave me. Do you understand? You can’t—” Her voice cracked as tears streamed down her face.

“Oh gods, not Xanthus!” Pallas shouted in the background.

“There’s too many of them,” Kyros shouted.

“Thane, we need you here!” Drakōn shouted.