Wrath of Lions by David Dalglish, Robert J. Duperre Read Free Book Online

the demon’s.”
    “I guide my men the way I see fit,” replied Handrick “The demon may have altered our Highest’s form, but Clovis still lives.…”
    “He is not the Highest—
I
am!” Velixar roared. Admirably, Handrick managed not to tremble before such an outburst, though it seemed to take him a moment to gather himself.
    “Perhaps,” he said. “But Clovis declared the citizens of Erznia blasphemers, and I agreed. They were to be punished, no different from how we punished those in Haven.”
    Amazingly, the captain’s fear seemed to be diminishing, replaced by stubbornness and pride. Velixar could never let such defiance go unanswered.
    “You did this even though your god ordered you otherwise,” he said.
    “Karak gave me no orders.”
    “
I
gave you the orders. I speak for Karak in our Divinity’s absence.”
    “Like you spoke for Ashhur? Will you betray Karak as well?”
    A deep throaty noise rose in Velixar’s throat.
    “Watch your words, mortal,” he said.
    Captain Handrick shoved him backward with one mailed fist, moving his other hand to the hilt of his sword. “You are no god,
Jacob
. And you could never take the place of the Highest. You are a delusional turncoat, and you can perish just as easily I can.”
    The man went to pull out his weapon, but Velixar was quicker. One violent swing batted Handrick’s sword arm aside, shattering bone. A shriek left the captain’s throat as he stared at his flopping appendage. Velixar grabbed him around the back of the neck with his left hand, then latched onto his lower jaw with his right, his fingers beneath the captain’s chin, his thumb pressed against the inset of his lower teeth. Handrick struggled, but his strength was no match for his opponent’s.
    “You sealed your fate,” Velixar whispered in his ear. “You shall never utter that accursed name again.”
    With one mighty tug, he tore Captain Handrick’s lower jaw free from his face, ripping tendons and crushing bone and cartilage. The tongue severed from the lower palette and flopped against the captain’s chest in a great spray of blood. Handrick tottered backward, eyes bulging as he desperately swiped at the empty space where his jaw had been, gripping his flopping tongue like it was a slithering worm. He collapsed onto the floor, his whole body quaking, a red stain spreading from his chest all the way down to his belt. A wheezing gurgle was the only form of protest he could offer.
    Velixar tossed the mess that had been the man’s lower jaw aside, closed his eyes, and spoke a few words of magic. The spurting blood vessels sealed themselves as the gaping wounds were gradually covered by a layer of new flesh, creating a wrinkled divot in the middle of which was the black cave of his throat. The teeth of his upper jaw hung over the cave like yellowed stalactites. In a matter of moments the captain stilled, his breath coming in short rasps as his dangling tongue still waggled in his hand. Velixar knelt before him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Handrick’s eyes lifted to him, overflowing with soundless terror.
    “As I said, you will never speak that name again,” Velixar said. “Nor any other for that matter. You have disgraced your god, your kingdom, and your title, and so I leave you as the helpless, ugly bastard you have proved yourself to be. You have two choices, Captain: you can either learn to live like this or you can take your own life. It is your decision. If I were you, I’d choose the latter.”
    He stood up and turned away as Handrick began to sob. Lanike appeared on the stairwell, drawn out of her quarters by the sounds of conflict. Her hand rose to her mouth when she saw the horror below her. Velixar looked up at her and smiled.
    “Lanike, my dear, please assist the good captain with anything he might need. And as you can see, there is some blood on the floor. Please clean it before I return. I feel it is time to pay our god a visit.”

    Traversing the miles to