Page 104 of The War is Coming

Ares grinned at him. He walked forward and stood in front of the shaman. He was wearing a black suit with his godly armour over it and exuded power.

“Who are you?” the shaman asked fearfully.

Ares smirked. “I am Ares, God of War, and yes, I have much more magic and power than you. Indeed, so do my father, brothers, my son and uncles.” He waved his hand at his godly family who had arrived to watch the proceedings.

The shaman fell to the ground, tears running down his face. “I’m finished,” he said softly, but everyone still heard.

Ares patted his head. “Yes, you really are.” He nodded to Frederick and walked back to join his family.

“Gods, you were hot,” Jason said, looking back at his mate.

Ares laughed.

Ashton poked him in the side, making him jump. “Behave.”

Frederick and Jaxton grabbed an arm each and pulled him over to the whipping post.

The post was an ‘x’ shape, so each wrist was tied to a different post. His back faced everyone.

Once secure, Frederick and Jaxton moved out of the way.

Baylan clicked his fingers, and the shaman’s shirt vanished.

“Your sentence begins now,” Blake said, taking his crown off and handing it to Baylan. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and walked off the plinth.

General Delinga stepped forward and gave him the whip.

Blake nodded his thanks and stood behind the crying shaman. “You will be whipped seventy times,” Blake said. “Now brace yourself, as this is really going to hurt.”

“I’m going to die while you whip me just to spite you,” he spat out.

Han stepped forward and moved to stand in front of the shaman. “I can guarantee that will never happen.”

Blake nodded his thanks, waited for Han to rejoin the family, moved his arm back and started whipping him, the man screaming each time the whip connected, which was every time.

Puff stepped closer to Tudor and took his hand. Alex took his other hand, both of them offering Tudor strength.

Blake finished and passed the whip to Ashton, who, when finished, passed it to Jason; then Nick took the whip.

“This is for Clara and Phil, you piece of shit.” Each strike split more of his back, blood running from each slash.

By this time, the only thing holding him up was the bindings around his wrists.

Once finished, he passed the whip to General Gasgoyne. As he used all his strength to whip him, he spoke. “This is for my guards killed by your dream walkers. For Corporal Jackal Knight, Corporal Tommy Globe and Sergeant Earla Palmer.” He finished and passed the whip to General Delinga.

The General stepped forward and spoke by the shaman's ear, making sure he could be heard over the sobbing. “Now isn’t this better than a quick death?” he said in a deadly calm, cold voice. He stepped back and started whipping him. “This is for my guards killed by your dream walkers. For Corporal Travis Winscot, Corporal Chance Challoner and Sergeant Laural Cartwright.”

By the time the General had finished, not an inch of the shaman’s back remained unblemished, slash marks all bleeding. The blood ran down his back.

General Delinga blew out a breath and walked back to join the others.

Frederick and Jaxton cut him down and dragged the barely conscious man over to the gallows.

They passed him to Plog and Stanley, who dragged him up the steps of the gallows. Winnel tied the short noose around his neck. This noose was designed for a slow death, not a quick broken neck one.

Plog and Stanley let him go and moved out of the way. Winnel walked to the lever and pulled it.

The bottom fell open, and the shaman fell, his legs moving backwards and forward. His hands moved to the noose, but he couldn’t loosen it. His face slowly turning purple.