The Lycan Rebirth (The Flux Age Book 3) by Steven J Shelley Page A
Authors: Steven J Shelley
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the spider ranks were probably pinned to the ground. For a horrible moment Florence pondered the nightmarish prospect of losing the battle and being executed by the aquila. The most frustrating thing was lying on the edge of battle and being unable to move. She saw a large aquilan drop to the platform and drew her breath in sharply. Hector Caliri .
“He’s mine,” she found herself saying, realizing how stupid it sounded from her position. It was a reflex action, a manifestation of her hatred of the man who had engineered the lycan slaughter.
Already the aquilan leader was swinging his sword with abandon, confident no lycan could get near his pristine armor. The sword glowed hungrily, as if sensing lycan blood. Hector laughed outright as he penetrated Wilson’s defenses and struck him on the temple with his sword pommel. The trainee collapsed like a rag doll and Florence feared he was dead. Hector saw Florence lying on the hard stone and his eyes took on a sinister gleam. He strode toward Florence, his heavy boots thudding ominously on the granite. A pair of black furry feet filled Florence’s vision - Miss Garvey was now standing between her and an appointment with death. Hector engaged the plucky werewolf and was forced to block a few times before cutting brutally across Garvey’s midriff. The wound wasn’t deep but began suppurating immediately. The trainee looked at Florence in shock before falling backwards. Her head cracked loudly against the stone and Florence was certain she’d lost yet another friend.
Hector grinned at Florence and held his sword high.
“The lycans have breathed their last,” he murmured arrogantly. He swung the sword down for the killing blow and Florence made a point of looking Hector straight in the eye - but instead of the wet sound of sundered flesh, the abrasive clang of metal on metal reverberated in the werewolf’s ears.
Julian had blocked Hector’s blow with a sword from one of the fallen aquila. Florence watched her man flick Hector’s sword away and saunter out into the middle of the rock platform. Hector smiled again and joined him.
“Okay,” the aquilan leader said softly. “She can wait just fine.”
The men squared off with each other, circling slowly.
“How’s that wing of yours, Banes?” Hector crowed. “Just imagine, the first aquilan cripple.”
Julian said nothing, leveling a steely gaze at his foe.
“You should thank me for this,” Hector said. “What use is a crippled aquilan to anyone?”
Julian maintained admirable discipline, which probably saved his life as Hector made a lightning lunge suddenly. Any lesser swordsman might have been skewered, but Julian turned Hector’s sword aside and resumed his stance. The man had clearly been well schooled in the ancient art of swordplay.
Hector made attack after attack but was repelled each time by Julian’s excellent defense. Just as Hector’s blows became a little more ragged, Julian began counter-attacking. Most of the young aquilan’s blows glanced off Hector’s breastplate and did no damage. Julian completed a flurry of blows and paused as if he was tired.
“Looks like running off with that bitch has dulled your edge, Banes,” Hector drawled. “I think it’s time we finished this.”
And with that, Hector twirled around and swung his sword so powerfully that Julian couldn’t hope to defend against it. But the younger man wasn’t there. Anticipating Hector’s killing move, Julian had pressed himself flat on the stone. In the split second it took for Hector to realize his mistake Julian had risen like a murderous tide, pushing his sword through Hector’s throat. The aquilan champion’s eyes went wide as blood spurted from his mouth. Incredibly, Hector pulled himself along the sword, drawing so close to an astonished Julian that he was able to run his glowing sword through the younger man’s torso. Both men fell together, joined by steel and blood.
His face a mask of pain, Julian was
“He’s mine,” she found herself saying, realizing how stupid it sounded from her position. It was a reflex action, a manifestation of her hatred of the man who had engineered the lycan slaughter.
Already the aquilan leader was swinging his sword with abandon, confident no lycan could get near his pristine armor. The sword glowed hungrily, as if sensing lycan blood. Hector laughed outright as he penetrated Wilson’s defenses and struck him on the temple with his sword pommel. The trainee collapsed like a rag doll and Florence feared he was dead. Hector saw Florence lying on the hard stone and his eyes took on a sinister gleam. He strode toward Florence, his heavy boots thudding ominously on the granite. A pair of black furry feet filled Florence’s vision - Miss Garvey was now standing between her and an appointment with death. Hector engaged the plucky werewolf and was forced to block a few times before cutting brutally across Garvey’s midriff. The wound wasn’t deep but began suppurating immediately. The trainee looked at Florence in shock before falling backwards. Her head cracked loudly against the stone and Florence was certain she’d lost yet another friend.
Hector grinned at Florence and held his sword high.
“The lycans have breathed their last,” he murmured arrogantly. He swung the sword down for the killing blow and Florence made a point of looking Hector straight in the eye - but instead of the wet sound of sundered flesh, the abrasive clang of metal on metal reverberated in the werewolf’s ears.
Julian had blocked Hector’s blow with a sword from one of the fallen aquila. Florence watched her man flick Hector’s sword away and saunter out into the middle of the rock platform. Hector smiled again and joined him.
“Okay,” the aquilan leader said softly. “She can wait just fine.”
The men squared off with each other, circling slowly.
“How’s that wing of yours, Banes?” Hector crowed. “Just imagine, the first aquilan cripple.”
Julian said nothing, leveling a steely gaze at his foe.
“You should thank me for this,” Hector said. “What use is a crippled aquilan to anyone?”
Julian maintained admirable discipline, which probably saved his life as Hector made a lightning lunge suddenly. Any lesser swordsman might have been skewered, but Julian turned Hector’s sword aside and resumed his stance. The man had clearly been well schooled in the ancient art of swordplay.
Hector made attack after attack but was repelled each time by Julian’s excellent defense. Just as Hector’s blows became a little more ragged, Julian began counter-attacking. Most of the young aquilan’s blows glanced off Hector’s breastplate and did no damage. Julian completed a flurry of blows and paused as if he was tired.
“Looks like running off with that bitch has dulled your edge, Banes,” Hector drawled. “I think it’s time we finished this.”
And with that, Hector twirled around and swung his sword so powerfully that Julian couldn’t hope to defend against it. But the younger man wasn’t there. Anticipating Hector’s killing move, Julian had pressed himself flat on the stone. In the split second it took for Hector to realize his mistake Julian had risen like a murderous tide, pushing his sword through Hector’s throat. The aquilan champion’s eyes went wide as blood spurted from his mouth. Incredibly, Hector pulled himself along the sword, drawing so close to an astonished Julian that he was able to run his glowing sword through the younger man’s torso. Both men fell together, joined by steel and blood.
His face a mask of pain, Julian was
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