Journey Into Nyx by Jenna Helland Read Free Book Online

Nyxborn minotaurs, so Rhordon decided to give the intruder a few more seconds of life. Besides, it was bleating at him again.
    “The Akroan army destroyed my own valley, and you are next,” Xenagos said. “I’m willing to return Mogis’s army to you in exchange for your immediate conquest of Akros.”
    Rhordon didn’t believe the lying satyr. Such a weakling couldn’t have captured an entire army of Nyxborn minotaurs. It was insulting for him to suggest that he had such prowess. Rhordon raised his grizzled chin. With that slight movement of his chin, he gave his warriors leave to kill the satyr.
    The nearest warrior charged, but Xenagos anticipated his attack. The satyr did a strange sidestep, dragging his hoof through the bloody dirt, and one of his Nyxborn protectors lurched forward. Rhordon sensed an overwhelming power emanating through the unnatural creature. The Nyxborn stepped directly in front of Rhordon’s warrior and lifted him up into the air like a sack of grain. Then he tossed him headfirst into the wall, snapping his neck against the stones. Before anyone could move, the satyr did another strange sidestep. Rhordon felt debilitating pain as Xenagos blasted searing energy against the Rageblood himself.
    Rhordon perceived the mystical strike with his god-senses—it was like serrated claws raking across his body, followed by a burst of fire. The blast singed his fur and ripped his flesh, but Rhordon was not greatly harmed. Indeed, he relished the pain. Rhordon’s warriors felt a sickly wind and saw their leader’s chest split open. They glanced uneasily between the satyr and the wounded oracle. Rhordon pressed his hand into the wound and wiped his bloody fingers across his brow. He knew the satyr could have killed him and chose not to. He would treat the goat with a little more respect. With another tip of his chin, he ordered his warriors to fall back and not attack their visitor again.
    “I did capture them myself,” the satyr said, and Rhordon did not argue. “And I will tell you how to destroy Akros, and you will be Rhordon, Conqueror of Akros.”
    “How can you know something that Mogis does not?” Rhordon asked.
    “Mogis knows,” Xenagos assured him. “But Iroas will not let him break the Silence and leave Nyx to tell you himself. He sent you an army instead.”
    Rhordon could believe this. Iroas existed solely to thwart Mogis and prevent his carnage.
    “Tell us,” Rhordon growled. “And human blood will flood the streets of that accursed city.”
    Xenagos took a long knife from his belt and drew a circle in the dirt with its tip.
    “This is Akros,” the satyr said. “The city walls have never been breached because the wandering armies have always returned and flanked the invaders. Neither man nor minotaur can fight in two directions at once.”
    Xenagos took his knife and drew another circle, a larger one, around the walls of Akros. Rhordon understood, even if his warriors did not. At the sight of it, he heard a rumble from above. He swore it was the sound of Mogis voicing his brutal approval from Nyx.
    “A circle around a circle,” Xenagos smiled deviously. “And my Nyxborn will help you build it.”
    Before Rhordon could respond, a warrior sprinted into the hall. His filthy fur was matted and damp from racing across the countryside. His battle-axe was covered in gore, and he wore fresh human skins.
    “They’ve mounted our brethren’s heads on the gates of Akros!” he shouted.
    “See, I’ve told you nothing but the truth,” the satyr said. “The humans are preparing to slaughter you.”
    Rhordon stared at Xenagos for a long moment. “Continue, goat,” he said.
    The satyr did another funny step. And then he bowed in service to the god of war and slaughter.

Y ou’re so dead, Daxos!” Nikka taunted.
    With a flourish, Nikka slid the green tile six squares to the east and nudged a yellow tile that belonged to Daxos. Elspeth said nothing. Nikka was making a grave error, and