Page 36 of The Dark Embrace


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The lich stumbled, its power draining with her spell so that he fell to his knees, and was hit with an explosion of ice that raced up from the ground, partially impaling the male. Ashul immediately closed in, releasing more sprays of the inky blood before the creature rose to his feet. Ashul cursed, dodging another swing of the scythe.

He nearly lost his footing and toppled to the ground when a bundle of bespelled bones bound with other substances was tossed in his direction, exploding in a necrotic bomb that drained life from everything it touched until a large patch of blackened earth was all that remained. He only just avoided it, panting as he stared briefly at the spot that he had just evacuated seconds before.

The lich shrieked in frustration and began to charge but faltered as something furry dropped down on his face. Deroxas chittered fiercely and then suddenly exploded in a rain of bones, sending the large male stumbling back and giving Ashul the opportunity to regain his footing. The male roared and whipped his head so that blood splattered from around the jagged bones, puncturing deep into his eye.

And suddenly Robyn’s comments about the bone creature’s defensive capabilities made more sense and he grinned through the spray of dark blood streaking his face. As much as the necromancers seemed to favor the larger bone creatures from the way Robyn told it, it was a squirrel that had an advantage that a larger bone animal would not have possessed.

To his merit, Deroxas had been able to drop onto the lich’s face and deal a devastating wound that the lich pawed at with its clawed fingers, allowing rivers of blood to break free and run down his face more freely. Taking advantage of the distraction, Ashul ducked low beneath the male’s swinging arms to stab it deep beneath the ribs. The lich bellowed and struck out so fast that it caught Ashul off guard, knocking him back some distance before he landed on the ground with a painful wheeze. He heard his mate calling his name and opened his eyes just in time to see and dodge the enormous glowing green blade swinging down toward him.

“Ashul!”

His mate’s frantic scream and colorful curse that followed spurred Ashul on so that he rolled twice out of the way, evading the sharp plunge of the ghostfire scythe into the earth, before springing nimbly back to his feet.

The blade once again buried in the ground, the lich gave another angry scream before he was rocked back by several necrotic blasts from Robyn. She aimed them directly at the male’s face, sending him stumbling back and scrabbling at his face as she came closer, her worried glance falling on Ashul.

Lifting his head, he gave her a grim look and waved her back as he too retreated a safe distance. They were wearing the lich down but also exhausting themselves. If they had two or three more people in their company, they might have had a chance, but they could not succeed as things currently stood. He licked his lips, his stomach churning at what he was about to suggest.

“Robyn, do you know the lich spell?” he growled over at her as he warily watched the creature struggle back from the ground, gore running down his ruined face.

“Yes, theoretically, but I’ve never performed it!” she shouted as she backed to a safer distance from the creature as he slowly pushed up onto his knees. She delivered another necrotic blast, sloughing more flesh from the creature before lifting her eyes to give Ashul a worried look. “I’m not even sure if I would stand a chance against Sebastian.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. “You are not the bloodthirsty murderer here which is why you are not going to become the lich.” He drew a deep breath, making peace with his decision to become something so detestable. “You are going to do it to me.”

“Ashul, no!”

“Don’t argue,” he snarled back, his head turning sharply toward his mate as he cut an impatient look in her direction. “There is no other way. This thing is beyond our ability to stop, and I will not see you die.”

“It wants us both!” she protested.

“And between us, I am the warrior. I am the one who thirsts for dealing death. This darkness will not touch you. I will do this. I will be the one sacrificed to destroy it. Now do your part!”

She trembled but her mouth firmed, and she nodded. “I’ll need a moment to set down the ritual. I won’t be able to help you as I have been.” She blinked rapidly. “Whatever happens… I love you.”

He inclined his head in understanding and swallowed. “My heart is yours, songbird,” he rasped, “whatever fate lay ahead.”

She gave him a small smile, and he drew a deep breath before throwing himself into the fray. With brutal slashes of his sword he delivered his blows, barely avoiding the clumsy sweeps of the scythe coming at him. Several smaller wounds scored his skin deep enough to pain him with a hollow, piercing ache, but he ignored it and continued to press forward as Robyn stood behind him, her fingers drawing bright sigils into the air as her the magic built upon itself. A glowing green light encircled her, and for a moment he believed that she had reconsidered and cast it upon herself until suddenly it shifted, snapping over him with a brilliant shimmer.

Light filled his eyes and every one of his senses, whiting out everything as the worst pain he had ever known stretched and contorted his bones, muscles, and tissue. Distantly, he heard the thump of something fall hard to the ground, but it was hard to focus on it when pain radiated through him, tearing his entire being into oblivion as it stretched and contorted him.

He tried to scream but there was no sound in the vast nothingness that blasted through him. It was a cold, eternal echo that made him feel disconnected from everything. He felt as empty as a void himself, his hunger sharpening as it viciously rose. A dark snarl rumbled through him as heat rose and uncoiled from his belly. There was a thread that held him in check, however, and he latched onto it with all his sanity.

His mate.

With great effort, he tore his gaze away from the other male to search for Robyn. A moan of agony escaped him when his eyes fell upon a crumpled figure in a cloak in the place where his had mate stood.

A terrible, grinding, shrill laugh cackled from the other male, turning Ashul’s insides into a twisting inferno.

“There will be no more help from your filthy whore. She wasted herself giving all of her power to you!” The male cackled again, and Ashul spun around on him, straightening to his full height until he towered over the other lich.

Power sang in his veins, the sweet traces of his mate’s touch alive in it, empowering him and soothing him all at once. She was still there with him even though she had made herself vulnerable so that he could fight.

Though he did not possess a scythe, and his sword was too small in his malformed hand to be of much, he had far greater assets on his side. He possessed both brutality and experience that the necromancer could never imagine. More than that, he felt the warm flicker of his mate flooding his mind, whispering to him what he needed to do—directing his suddenly acquired strength and power beneath his control.

With a roar, he charged forward, his larger body crashing into the smaller form of the other lich, knocking the scythe far out of his rival’s reach. Ashul spun the male away as they grappled with brutal strikes of claws. The male tore at him desperately, his claws dragging deep furrows down Ashul’s belly and sides. They burned, but his hunger and rage rose over it all, cresting over his consciousness as he dragged the male down, pushing him to his knees. The lich necromancer twisted beneath his massive arms, his mouth gaping open as a long black tongue lashed to spew another corrosive rain.

Ashul transferred the grip of one hand to the male’s jaw, snapping the sharp teeth up. They came together with a gruesome tear and clack as the lich struggled desperately in his hold, blood pouring from his mouth. The severed tongue dropped free, and with a downward yank Ashul broke the male’s jaw, tearing it free.

The lich thrashed in agony, his claws slashing madly at the air, but he could not evade the crush of Ashul gripping the male’s exposed skull between his hand. As he pressed his hands together, the skull gave in, crumbling beneath the pressure. He grinned in triumph as he felt the male’s body go limp, the power and life flooding from it as freely as the dark blood. With a final wrench, he removed the skull completely with a savage pop and let it drop as the refuse it was into the dirt.

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