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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue: The Vallyr Enchantress

  Chapter 01: The Imperial Ambassador

  Chapter 02: The Scourge Leadership

  Chapter 03: The Growing Bastion

  Chapter 04: The Enchantress General

  Chapter 05: The Fire Speaks

  Chapter 06: The New Consort

  Chapter 07: The Renewed Forces

  Chapter 08: The Army Marches

  Chapter 09: The Rocs Attack

  Chapter 10: The Collective Blight

  Chapter 11: The Scourge Defends

  Chapter 12: The Obelisk Shatters

  Chapter 13: The Scion Arrives

  Chapter 14: The Fallen Queen

  Chapter 15: The Cultist Plot

  Chapter 16: The Koral Situation

  Chapter 17: The Mystic Leads

  Chapter 18: The Hidden Blade

  Chapter 19: The Scion Assassin

  Chapter 20: The Queen Attacks

  Chapter 21: The Backstab Lands

  Chapter 22: The Dragon Rises

  Chapter 23: The Queen's Revenge

  Chapter 24: The City Cracks

  Chapter 25: The Enchantress Advances

  Chapter 26: The King Returns

  Chapter 27: The Royalty Reunited

  Chapter 28: The Beastmaster's Surprise

  Chapter 29: The Scourge Prepares

  Chapter 30: The Nighttime Scourge

  Epilogue: The Patriarch Prepares

  Get Connected

  Book Synopsis

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  RESIST

  The Scourge Wars Book III

  D.W. BELFIELD

  Copyright © 2019 by Derek W. Belfield

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This is a dark fantasy novel. It contains an anti-hero lead, graphic violence, explicit language, and sexual themes.

  Cover design by Rafael Andres

  Editing by Matt Conrad, Lucas Luvith, & Sammy

  I say this in every dedication because it’s important enough to repeat. No book is written alone.

  When I think about who this story needs to be dedicated to, I think the first person I should thank is my psychiatrist. This book took longer to write than the last two because I went through a two or three week slump where I felt so tired that I had little motivation to write. I felt like I was sleeping but not getting any rest. I’m sure many of you have felt the same at some point in your lives. I just wanted to say thank you, because without her, this book might not have been written.

  The next group of people I should thank is my leadership in the Marine Corps. I’m thankful for the deep conversations and the philosophical arguments. They make me a better person and a better writer. It would have taken me much longer to write this book if they didn’t believe in me and keep me accountable to my goals.

  See you folks in the next book,

  D.W. Belfield

  PROLOGUE: THE VALLYR ENCHANTRESS

  The snow drifted from the ash-colored sky and heralded the official changing of the seasons. The skies had been foreshadowing the coming weather, and the temperature had dropped precipitously in the last few days. A snowflake landed upon an eyelash of General Bludtyr, and she looked up, startled by winter’s kiss. She studied the heavy clouds with a sense of resignation. She knew it had to happen eventually, but she had hoped winter would hold off for a couple more weeks. She had taken up residence in Crosstyr, a town northeast of Ithicus.

  As implied by the name, the settlement was the kind of place that sprung up due to its proximity to multiple major routes throughout the rest of the Collective. It was about equidistant between Soulreach and Standur and had become an important logistical hub for Collective forces. A thriving town had grown at the crossroads of trade routes connecting the capital in the east, the border forts to the northwest that protected the Collective from the Ignatum Empire, and the route southeast along the coastal settlements. It would never be as grand as the city of Koral or of the capital, Soulreach itself, but the citizenry were mostly happy with their lives. They were important enough to the Collective that they were kept safe from the predations of the wild, and they worked hard enough that that were kept mostly immune to the predations of the Vallyr. The latter was sometimes more important than the former.

  Unfortunately, due to its location, it was considered a productive posting for all of the various Collective families. It was a bartering piece continually jockeyed for by the Vallyr elite. In the current iteration of political power games, it had been taken over by the dal Deene line. The Deene line had been culled multiple times, but it had risen to prominence since Mors dal Ventrix ascended to power. They were loyalists—at least to Mors’ face. In reality, they controlled much of the logistics and supply within the Collective. They had placed their heir—an insufferable man by the name of Inod—in command of the vital town as its high lord.

  General Bludtyr didn’t know the brat personally. He usually wouldn’t be worth her attention, but his seneschal had left her waiting in the courtyard of his keep, instead of bringing her inside. On a practical level, she understood the fool’s hesitation to bring her indoors. She had a considerable reputation within the Collective as an enchantress. It was a skill that she reveled in using occasionally. But it was more suited to the inside of a bedchamber than it was on the battlefield. Still, her powers weren’t something that a simple high lord could afford to ignore. Many a man had fallen prey to her wiles.

  This particular high lord was either a complete idiot, or he simply hired incompetent idiots. Leaving a General with an entire army surrounding the city would be suicidal in normal circumstances. The additional facts that the army was the Patriarch’s personal force, and they were on the brink of total war, compounded the high lord’s error to the edge of treason. Bludtyr grinned to herself at the thought.

  Perhaps, I can punish this whelp, on behalf of the Patriarch. She relished the idea. I’m sure he is too busy to bother with a low-level high lord—no matter how well connected his family is.

  The sight of her savage grin made the Vallyr guards in the courtyard involuntarily shiver. The woman in front of them was one of the most seductive women they’d ever seen. Her most arresting attribute and the most apparent sign of her power was the bright purple eyes that only the eldest of the Vallyr possessed. It was a physical sign of the power that she could wield as someone who had become more proficient in Nocturnus’ mana. The affinity manifested itself in the iris.

  To the general populace’s knowledge, not many of the Vallyr ever made it to that degree of power because of the sacrifices that Nocturnus asked of his followers. Power from the Lord of Consuming Darkness was never free, and it was this implied cost that made the two sentries fear the General on an instinctual level. She exuded power and deadly intent.

  The confusing part—something both sentries couldn’t seem to wrap their minds around—was how physically unintimidating the General was in every other capacity. She was short for a Vallyr, not quite as tall as the bottom of their respective chins. Her skin was lively and the color of fine porcelain. It looked like it would bruise with the slightest touch. Her bone structure was fine and thin. Most Vallyr looked weak and malnourished, but the General just looked fragi
le.

  Her angular face looked like it had been carved from moonstone. It was framed by raven-black locks that fell just past her shoulders. Her hair was vibrant and lively. That was an especially impressive achievement for a Vallyr. Their hair tended to turn flaxen and dead without constant maintenance. It spoke to a personality that was inordinately attentive to its looks. The General had no need for makeup; her full lips were blood red and a stunning counterpoint to her pale features.

  The last oddity they noticed was the fullness of her figure. Most Vallyr didn’t look like very sexual creatures. They didn’t need to be, as their long-lives and limited childbearing capacity meant that sexual attributes weren’t a biological imperative. This was just another way that the General exceeded the average. She had large, full breasts that graced a tapered and toned torso. Her figure was perfectly proportioned and sinfully graduated to wide, sensual hips. On one hip, a coiled, barbed whip lay like a resting snake. On the other, a small sheath held a sacrificial blade commonly used by higher ranking Vallyr.

  Although the two men were facing the General, her skintight leather bodysuit, tucked into midnight-colored gloves and knee-high boots, left nothing to the imagination. A shadow-hued cloak draped across her shoulders and down her back. The men could imagine it being used as a means to protect her fair skin from the sun’s rays. A betting man would place his whole fortune on the fact that a pert and shapely ass rested just out of sight. One sentry felt his jaw go slack as he found his eyes drawn to the two hard marbles that poked through the leather covering her chest. He couldn’t help but imagine how she would look undressed. Even though her clothing covered almost every inch of skin, she looked more desirable rather than less.

  The General noted the men’s admiring glances and ignored them. She was used to being lusted over, and it wasn’t worth her time at the moment. While the General waited, she thought about how to punish the high lord for his arrogance and impudence.

  It really depends on how attractive the man is. If he’s ugly, I’ll flay him, and then stitch his skin back together. Everyone looks the same under their skin. I can keep him alive while I fill his skin with the souls of his family. She chuckled darkly. They can dance with one another. We can take them down to the throne room and throw a party!

  But what if he’s pretty? She pondered. If he’s pretty, I think I would like to take a warm bath. I’ll have him slit his own wrists and bathe me with his blood. Even after his body dies, I’ll keep his soul trapped in the corpse. He can watch from behind dead eyes as he continues to bathe and massage me until I feel satisfied.

  She shivered in pleasure at the thought. It wasn’t the death and the blood that appealed to her—although that was a positive side effect—she loved when she had the opportunity to bend someone to her will so thoroughly and so completely that their very souls became trapped in her will.

  It’s the finer things in life—and in death—that one comes to appreciate, she mused.

  She glanced up sharply at the two sentries that were standing between her and the keep. “Okay, boys,” she said sultrily. “I’ve grown tired of waiting.”

  With a flick of both wrists, she converted ambient mana into the purple, soul-aspected mana that was typical of a follower of Nocturnus. The mana shot out in the form of two bolts that struck both guards in the chest. They stared, stunned, at one another and then at Bludtyr as nothing happened for a single heartbeat.

  The General smiled. The show is just beginning, she thought. After a heartbeat, they abruptly started shrieking. They began looking down at their arms and chest as phantoms of their imagination began to plague them. They began to hurriedly undress—throwing weapons, armor, and clothing on the ground—in an effort to grasp whatever their fevered minds presented to them. When they were completely naked, the hallucinations started to fade.

  “Come to me,” Bludtyr crooned. “I need you.” Her voice was sweeter than a siren’s and deadlier than poison.

  Purple fire lit the eyes of the men as they drifted toward her with tottering, unstable steps. They came close but didn’t dare to touch her. They leaned in like lovers trying to smell the same exotic flower.

  Bludtyr rested a casual hand on one of the men and ran her fingers down his shapely chest. The other man glared at the subject of her treatment, and a feral look stole over his features. He growled threateningly at the other man, like a wolf protecting its kill.

  “Now, now. Down, boy,” Bludtyr chided. She ran a finger along the growling sentry’s jaw, and a stupid, vapid look overcame the man. She ran her finger lower. Her finger flitted over the marble chest and down the etched abdominal muscles.

  Her touch ignited a fiery need in both of the men. She continued running her finger down the man’s body until it met the base of his erect phallus. The man groaned in need as the other man watched her, entranced by the actions and desperately wishing she would do the same to him.

  She moved her gaze between the men as she felt both of their passions rise. She started to feed on their lust and need. The four nostrils on her face opened wide as she inhaled the scent of their emotions. She felt her own magic stirring and warmth percolating from deep within her. The magic often worked this way. She would drive it, and it would drive her in an infinite loop until she found her release in blood, gore, and sex.

  She trailed her fingernails across the top of the shaft of the man’s spear until she touched the head. The pleasure coming from both men was filling her reservoir of mana, but it wasn’t fulfilling her in the way that she wanted.

  “It really is a pity that neither of you are pretty,” she said sadly. The two men were well beyond the point of reason. Their faces remained locked in a rictus of carnal need.

  She let her other hand drift until she grasped the lengths of both men in either hand. The action made them grunt with pleasure. The sound of their satisfaction made her grin even wider. She felt the magic within the men change. She had switched the pleasure and pain centers in their brain. At the abrupt change in sensation, they started to scream. Her eyes flashed purple, and the light was mirrored on her hands. She let go of the phallus and watched satisfied as the men’s screams transitioned from pain to pleasure once more as their flesh began to part—starting at the tips of their cocks.

  As their flesh split away from their spears like the unwrapping of a banana, their sounds of pleasure only intensified. The skin started tearing at the base of their bodies and began to pull away from their hips. The men fell to the ground writhing in complete ecstasy. They ejaculated as the sensation overrode all sensations of pleasure. General Bludtyr merely watched with a slight smile as her magic flayed the men alive, and their flesh was removed entirely.

  The entire time, she drank deeply from their pleasure. Her mana felt like it was bursting at the seams. Once the men were reduced to quivering, continuously ejaculating piles of red meat on the ground, she raised her hands again and snapped. The action reversed the magic once more, and they began screaming as every nerve in their body was exposed to pain all at once. They only lasted several seconds before their bodies shut down in the shock of the pain. However, in those few heartbeats, there was a rush of power that hit General Bludtyr all at once. She felt the area between her legs grow wet as she felt on the verge of release herself. She sighed as she sensed the men die before she could truly be satisfied. She gestured once more, and the purple light gracing her hands captured the souls before they could be sent to the Beyond.

  She took out the dagger strapped to her hips and strode to the bodies of the sentries. She cut a rune into both foreheads before flexing her magic once more. She gazed down at the sentries as a purple fire lit their dead eyes, and they rose to their feet once more. She knew that the souls were now back in the bodies and that they would be experiencing the torturous experience of their flayed forms, but it wasn’t the same as if they were still alive. She was annoyed that they had perished before she was ready.

  “It looks like we’ll have to find the rest of the k
eep,” she said savagely. The two soul-forged creatures padded forward, leaving bloody footprints on the ground as they returned to their previous positions and opened the doors of the keep wide for the General’s grand entrance. As she walked through with all of the grace of a returning Queen, they bowed and invited her inside.

  She walked inside as if it were her own childhood home that she was visiting. She hummed to herself as she walked down the dark hallway that led to the main staircase. Her soul-forged companions followed her inside and flanked her like an honor guard.

  Once she reached the beginning of the dual staircases—one ascending and one descending—she paused to consider the next direction. The high lord should be on the floor above or on the ground level within the throne room.

  Where would I be, if I were an inconsiderate brat. She mused.

  As she was about to make her decision, an exclamation startled her.

  “General! I was just coming to retrieve you!” A sniveling voice called from down the hall.

  She looked over her shoulder and noticed that the seneschal from before had returned. He wore a black and white doublet with the symbol of the dal Deene bloodline emblazoned in it. She laughed girlishly.

  “It was starting to snow out there, seneschal.” She hugged herself and gave a slight shiver. The action pressed her breasts together and made her ass sway wantonly. “I was getting cold and lonely,” she said, turning “lonely” into the approximation of an invitation.

  The seneschal, a young Vallyr probably only a dozen decades-old swallowed heavily and couldn’t help from watching General Bludtyr’s antics. He was so transfixed on her, that at first, he failed to notice the two flayed men watching him with shining violet eyes.

  The seneschal looked up from her display and met her gleaming, cruel eyes and cleared his throat.

  “Ahem, General.” He began before glancing behind her and noticing the two soul-forged constructs. “General! Why have you brought those weapons of war into the dal Deene house?!”