Page 19 of Bonded By Savages

That was before I witnessed Obsidian himself. The battle-God is so much more than these Priests with their prophecies, and I care nothing for the universe if my Mate is in danger.

They think they have some ownership overmy Mate.The thought of them watching as I seed my fragile woman fills me with rage.

Raython’s aura blinked out of my mind when he was lost to the void, but his hot, fiery anger seems to fill me. He was always quick to rage, challenging other triads for perceived slights, and we had to back up his words with the blades of our swords more than once.

“Watch your tongue. You speak to the Priest Rataro!” The leader of one of the brute triads steps forward, the vein in his forehead bulging with anger.

They could try to kill us. We are not holy yet, not until we Bond our Mate. When we do, we are untouchable. Once she is linked to us, we are elevated, the few warriors who can bring more strong sons to life to battle for Obsidian.

Tarak senses I’m on the edge, and steps forward, raising his hands to motion towards the walls. “These walls were earned by our faithful service. They are our sanctuary. Give us the peace we earned,” he says, not quite ordering them, his tone just deferential enough to calm the situation, but he too has a hot, boiling rage threatening to burn over.

If they don’t back down, it will be us against the nine of them. The Priests are ancient, but even they are dangerous, in their own way, and those two triads of brutes are aching for a fight, aching to earn their own stripes so that they too may go through the portal.

They stand, for long moments, then take a small step back.

The Priest, Rataro, he was called, nods. “The five women you rescued. Two are virgins. The other three…are good enough. They are recovering in the hospital. When they are hail, give them to us, that we may reward our loyal warriors, as you were rewarded for your service. Do not forget, Damian and Tarak…” He coughs, raising his hand to his mouth, and red blood speckles the back of his hand when he brings it down. “Do not forget, you earned your Mate serving us.”

“The five women are ours, as per the Old Ways,” I state, staring them down. The Priest gets a thin, cold smile that doesn’t touch his icy eyes.

“Very well. The Old Ways give…but they also take. Think deeply, young warriors.”

I’m ready to draw my blade when he raises his bony hand. As one, all nine of them turn, to make the trek down the long path. Their jet-black Reaver is perhaps thirty feet away.

I watch them walk away, load up in the Reaver, and take off back to the city. That Reaver makes me uncomfortable. I look left and right. The closest two estates on each side are empty, but three rows of huge mansions down, another black Reaver descends.

The tattoo of the bottom circle is earned following the Priest, and whatever triad lives three rows down only earned their estate through service. I have no illusions about who they would serve if the Priests sent them against us.

Even if we were holy, Bonded, a triad would go mad at the thought of gaining their own Mate and try to cut us down.

“They didn’t land in our estate. That is good,” states Tarak, motioning to the faraway dot of the Reaver as it disappears behind the city walls.

“Aye. But if they claim us treasonous, they can cut us down in the arena.”

“They would not,” he answers, but I feel his worry.

“Maybe not both. A pregnant Mate is worth more than us. But one of us could lose his head.” I turn to face my battle-brother. “The High Priest Tan was one of their most powerful leaders. Obsidian’s wolves ripped him to shreds. Those Priests serve Obsidian…but for their purposes, not his.”

We spent long hours in the temples, lit by black fire, listening to Priests speak to masses of Fanatics. We were asked to get the brand on our foreheads, but we did not commit.

Tarak used to be a mind like no other, a brilliant strategist. Nine times out of ten, he beat me at chess. Since the death of our battle-brother, he’s been too angry to think clearly. He licks his lips, his tongue red against the pale of his flesh, and he knows I’m right.

The Priests give the promise of a Mate to all who will follow them, but that is not the reason they wanted us to wait for Obsidian, and to serve him when he came. Some of them are thousands of years old, practicing their religion on Colossus despite the human Queen discouraging the ancient cult of the War-God. She viewed it as nothing more than superstition.

She provoked the Priests. She gave legal rights to planets under the Aurelian Empire protection to declare Independence. She could not have predicted the masses of Scorp, the blood toll of trillions of humans who died. And yet, she did not understand that the only way to protect humanity was to rule over them with an iron fist.

It is not the fate of humans that concerns the Priests, but the universe itself.

They claimed a dark prince would rise. Obsidian. The Shadow Wolf who would devour the universe and drown it with blood, forging all men who followed him into a pure weapon.

A weapon that would stop something more evil from destroying all sentient life.

“How much of the prophecies are truth, and how much lies?” Tarak whispers. “The Priests want power. Obsidian threatens them.”

I could hear the pain in the War-God’s voice when he spoke of his Mate taken from him, snatched by the human Queen and her blaspheming triad.

The Priests need us to follow Obsidian—but once he conquers the Empire for them, will they betray him and take the throne? Or do they truly believe something is out there, lurking beyond the boundaries of reality?

It makes my stomach churn. I spent every waking moment of my life yearning for my Mate. Fighting for her. Leaving my honor behind to find her.

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