Page 50 of Shifter King
Umit bellowed, lashing out once more. Half a dozen rocks soared up, spiraling around the Abliato like a whirlwind.
Naatos laughed this time. "Have you abandoned all illusions then?"
"You will stop," Umit responded. "Or we will crush your fellow Vawtrians."
"Are you admitting you cannot handle me?" Naatos asked, feigning surprise. He pressed his hand to his chest as he shook his head. "So you admit the only way you can is by manipulating me with compassion? I'm afraid that means you have already lost. And if I know anything about what sparks remain in my people, I ask them this: Vawtrians, should I stop this so none of you will be harmed until they return to torturing you or should I kill them even if they managed to kill some of you in response?"
"Kill them," a small voice from the middle of the crowd called out.
"Yes, kill them," another said, a little stronger.
A few stood to their feet shakily, moving their stances out to smoother patches on the porous rock. "Kill them. Kill them!"
Naatos spread his arms wider as he turned back to face the two Abliatos. If there was one thing his people would never lose, it was a willingness to die to be able to spite and defeat their enemy.
Enver slashed his hand downward at Naatos, muttering something. He spoke so quickly Naatos couldn't fully make out the words, but they didn't matter. The scratching and clawing at his mind had taken on a furious and desperate tone as the Abliato drew closer.
Umit moved to the edge of the marble and pointed at the nearest of the Vawtrians with two fingers. The girl struggled to keep her head down but then looked up, muscles straining in her neck and shoulders as her red and white hair clung to her scalp. She managed a strangled shriek as she collapsed, her hands flying to her throat. Another of the Vawtrians—the youth with the blue and yellow skin—dropped beside her and held her head.
Two more dropped.
It was time to end this. "I could turn into anything you fear with ease," Naatos said, his words low but clear as he focused on Enver. "Anything at all. But if you do know your history and mythology and you do know what Vawtrians were once capable of, then what you fear most is me and those like me."
"You will bow!" Enver snarled, veins bulging.
Another scream followed as Umit took down a small Vawtrian.
Naatos smirked, then lunged across the sand gap. The saber tiger form tore through his body, reforming him in mid-leap as bones snapped and muscles stretched and reformed.
Enver's eyes bulged. He dodged to the side. Naatos landed and at once turned on Umit. The smoke-winged illusionist tried to slide out of the way, but Naatos's claws tore across his chest and slammed him into the back wall.
A sickening crack assured him at least some bones had been broken. He pounced immediately, striking Umit in the center of the back to paralyze him. He left him bleeding out on the marble, the fresh scent of hot blood muted yet apparent. With a snarl, he turned on Enver.
Enver cast out his hand again at the crowd of Vawtrians. "Kneel!" he shouted, wings flaring out and eyes glowing red. Three collapsed, convulsing as their eyes rolled back into their sockets. Already a third of them had been trapped in illusions of one kind or another. "You see, skinchanger," he shouted as he grabbed for his staff. "You see, they will all fall, and they will die! The alert has gone out. How much time do you think you have before they are here and put you back in the cage you belong in, you stupid skinchanger?"
A body crashed down the stairs, bouncing when it hit the stones and flying half on the sand, half on the marble. A second followed. "What?" Enver gasped. "Only the kraken can enter this territory. What beast did this?"
Two of the Vawtrians broke free from the illusions. They staggered to their feet, clutching their heads.
A third Abliato corpse sailed over the edge of the arena and struck the sand. Its feet dug deep, allowing it to stand for half a breath before collapsing. The sand beneath sifted, moving a little more in long curling strokes as if something stirred far below.
"How many were there? Three or four?" Naatos asked.
Enver's gaze darted toward him, that desperate hope that maybe one of the attendants had escaped to get help.
The fourth crashed into the marble with a sickening splat. The light faded in Enver's eyes as his mouth dropped open. Sand hissed behind them.
"Yes," Naatos said evenly. "That's right. Four." He paused as he looked back at the sand bar between them. The body that had landed there was no longer there. All that remained was a boot, some torn fabric, and, a little farther off, his spear. "Yet there are only three bodies now. We all know what that means, don't we?" Turning, he clamped his jaws around Umit's foot.
"No!" Umit shouted.
With a vicious snap of his neck, Naatos flung him out into Unit’s the sand.
The Vawtrian youths ran to the edge, rocks in hand. They started pelting Umit, screaming and howling their own obscenities and rage.
Naatos grinned. There was the fighter spirit. The warrior spine. The fire was lighting within them once again.
Umit howled and clawed at the sand. He'd landed entirely in the center. As he struggled to right himself, the sand to his left began to move. Indentations appeared. Then a dark-orange tentacle shot up. It coiled around the hapless Abliato and twisted him down. His grasping hand was the last thing to disappear, and one of the Vawtrians nailed it with a jagged stone.
