Madness of the Horde by Zoey Draven

Chapter Twelve

Gold streaks shimmered through the sky as the sun descended. It was something I’d missed seeing. Under the Dead Mountain, I’d been cut off from the sky, from the earth.

Sparkling, wispy trails floated and danced above us, like they were celebrating the setting of the sun, the end of another day. It was a phenomenon that happened rarely.

It was beautiful. Breathtaking. I was all too aware of the horde king’s eyes on me as I tilted my face back to watch the tendrils glimmer and shift, catching the rays of the golden sun. Soon, I would be back under the Dead Mountain. Soon, the sky would be taken from me once more, so I might as well enjoy it while I could. Even if his red gaze made the back of my neck prickle.

In my periphery, I saw the forest looming to our left. The darkness of it made me anxious. The Ghertun called it the Dead Forest because of the creatures that lurked there. Because any Ghertun that entered it never returned.

So, when the Mad Horde King steered his pyroki towards the edge, I said, “Please, I don’t want to go in there.”

He said nothing, as if I hadn’t spoken at all, and soon I was craning my neck up to look at the line of trees that guarded its entrance. The glimmering, shifting waves of the sunset were soon blocked out by the shadowed canopy of their vine-laden branches.

“Kakkari writes our destinies before we are ever born into this world,” came his voice. It was…surprisingly soft. “You should not be so afraid all the time.”

I swallowed. I didn’t think I believed that. Because if that were so, Kakkari was a cruel goddess. How could I think anything different when she had already written my father’s death, my grandmother’s death, both of whom had only given their love to their family? What of the countless deaths of our villagers? They’d been senseless, gruesome murders. Or of the terrible things that my sister had to endure at the hands of her Ghertun sibi?

“You think if I’m meant to die today, then nothing I do will matter?” I questioned.

“Lysi,” was his clipped response.

I was strangely annoyed, hurt even, by the sentiment. Those emotions loosened my tongue and I asked, “Then how do you think Kakkariwrote your end?”

He chuffed out a breath, the arm that braced my back tightening. “Most likely in battle.”

“Because you were born for bloodshed and war?”

His red gaze flashed down to me. I didn’t expect the delight in his gaze. The malice there.

“Lysi,” he purred. “Why else would I be in this world?”

“You think you’re only a killer?”

He grunted but didn’t reply.

“And yet, you are a leader,” I said softly. “A Vorakkar. If you were only meant to kill, why would Kakkari not have simply made you a warrior? Why craft you into a king?”

I didn’t need to use my gift to know that my words struck him. His jaw tightened. His eyes flashed.

He growled, “You know nothing, vekkiri.”

I didn’t understand him. Not at all.

Below us, his pyroki stilled.

The horde king froze.

My heart rate suddenly ticked up, my spine tingling. Danger? Unconsciously, my hand curled around the furs of his cloak, pressing closer to his body.

“Be very still,” he rasped into my ear. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his hand go to the hilt of his sword.

“What is it?” I whispered, hardly daring to breathe.

“Jrikkia pack.”

I didn’t know what that was but I cast my gaze wildly around the clearing. We hadn’t ventured far into the forest, but far enough that it was dark and cold. That was when I noticed it was dead silent. There was no sound, no insects buzzing or wildlife scampering across the floor or creatures crooning in the trees.

That was when I saw them. Black, unblinking eyes that glittered like jewels from the darkness. A set of eyes that made my heart speed, that made me want to recoil in horror.

They were just ahead of us. The horde king had said there was a pack? Which meant there were more?

A slight whispering sound across the forest floor came from our right. Before I realized what was happening, the Vorakkar unsheathed his sword and, with a quick blurring arc of his arm, plunged it into the head of a giant black beast that had leapt towards us out of nowhere.

I cried out in alarm. And then I heard the pyroki below us make a horrible keening cry before we were both thrown off its back. Another of the beasts had attached itself to the pyroki’s flank, digging its massive clawed talons into its side, and the impact had dismounted us.

When I fell, I hit the ground hard and all my breath rushed from my lungs. I gasped, trying to get air, my gaze flying around the clearing, trying to see how many there were.

“Get to the tree!” the Vorakkar ordered, already rushing towards his pyroki, who was trying to buck the black jrikkia off its flank. The horde king swung his bloodied sword at the beast and cut through the joints of its claws, which were still imbedded in the pyroki. A loud, anguished growl echoed as the jrikkia thudded to the ground and then the Mad Horde King plunged the tip of his sword into its head, its body going slack.

When I looked back to the pyroki, two of the dismembered claws were still hanging from its flank. Black blood poured from the horde king’s creature, thick slashes decorated its flesh.

“Nillima, kassim,” the Vorakkar ordered, jerking his head towards me. The pyroki, even with her terrible injury, followed her master’s order and sprinted towards me, vibrating the forest floor.

I had somehow scrambled to the trunk of the nearest tree, had pressed my back to it, and the pyroki stopped before me, pounding the ground with her claws. Protecting me? Her eyes were wild with pain, flickering from side to side.

Another jrikkia flung itself from the darkness and I watched as the pyroki reared back, going onto two legs, and smashed her front talons into the body of the creature.

It fell with a shrill cry and the horde king’s sword followed, cleanly slicing its head from its body.

Then came two more, jumping from the darkness and the shadows of the trees, one in front of the horde king and one at his back. They circled, prowling on all fours, their long necks and even longer snouts perfectly still.

“Watch out!” I cried when the one at his back sprung first.

Right when he spun, the one at his front attacked as well. So fast it was a blur, he cut a line across one of the jrikkia’s abdomen, spilling blood and making it stumble. But the other crashed into him, snarling, taking him down to the ground with a heavy thud.

I heard the horde king’s roar and then the jrikkia’s head snapped to the side. It dropped, heavy and still. The horde king had broken its neck with a sharp twist. Then I watched as he lunged for the last remaining injured creature and drove his sword deep.

My heart felt like it was in my throat. The Vorakkar had moved so swiftly. His expression was grim, focused, as his gaze scanned the shadows, looking for more jrikkia.

Only after a long moment did he look at the carnage across the forest floor. Four dead jrikkia, their black blood spilled, sickeningly shiny in the low light. Was this why the Ghertun avoided the Dead Forest? Because of these creatures? I had never seen anything like them before.

Then his gaze came to me, red and otherworldly and infinitely terrifying. His words returned to me. That he’d been made to kill. The dead creatures around him, the memory of his speed, his unflinching certainty as he dispatched every last one of them…now I knew he’d spoken the truth.

He wiped his sword on the fur of one of the fallen beasts before sheathing it. His pyroki was still hovering in front of me, her breathing labored. She was in pain.

The horde king went to her, stroking her snout, murmuring soft words to her in Dakkari that I didn’t understand. Then he came around her side, looking at the injury, his jaw tight. He plucked the dismembered jrikkia claws from her, dropping them to the ground without a second glance, leaving five deep gashes in their wake.

I finally found my voice. It shook as I asked, “W-will she be all right?”

His voice was guttural, husky as he said, “Lysi.”

His chest was streaked in blood. “Are—are you all right?”

The question made him turn. His eyes seemed brighter after the attack. As if the battle had invigorated him, but I knew that couldn’t be right. It would be a horrible realization if he’d enjoyed that.

“I would like to believe that Kakkari would not end me with a mere pack of jrikkia, leikavi.”

It was chilling to think that just a moment before, we’d been speaking of death.

“They would’ve ended me,” I said quietly, wrapping my arms tight around my torso, shivering, “had you not been here.”

He didn’t say anything to that.

Instead, he broke my gaze to look over his shoulder, at the dead creatures scattered across the floor.

“We will rest here for the night,” he decided.

“Here?” I asked, my voice going higher. I peered around the tree trunk I was still pressed to. I could still see the plains through the trees. Open space, golden sunlight. “Even after this?”

“We will not find better protection than spilled jrikkia blood,” he informed me, “though I would be surprised if there was another pack here.”

I frowned. “You mean, they don’t live in the Dead Forest?”

“The Dead Forest?” he repeated, raising a brow. He huffed out a sharp exhale. “Nik, they live east. Yet, they seem to come further and further west every year.”

“They do not look like any beasts I’ve seen on Dakkar before,” I commented softly, slowly peeling myself away from the trunk.

“They were brought by the Killup. These are their creatures.”

Understanding dawned. The Killup were another race that lived on Dakkar, that lived even further east than the Dead Lands. I’d seen a few under the Dead Mountain. They’d worn the slave mark of the Ghertun as well.

I stepped around his pyroki.

It embarrassed me but I said, “Thank you. For your protection.”

I’d meant what I said. If I had traveled this way, had a pack found me, I would’ve been torn to pieces before I’d ever even seen them coming.

“Do not thank me for killing,” he said, his tone on the edge of a growl. “I already told you what I am.”

I didn’t know what to make of his words but he stepped up to his pyroki and hefted off the heavy travel sacks attached to her side. He murmured something to her in Dakkari and slowly, she lay on the forest floor.

“Can I help?” I asked.

“Get the water skin and the uudun,” he said, jerking his head towards the discarded sack.

My own pain was forgotten as I knelt in front of the bag and pulled both from its depths.

Then I came to kneel at his pyroki’s side and watched as he took the golden fire basin from the sack and began to build a fire. When it flared to life, I couldn’t help but look over at a fallen jrikkia, at its open dark eyes. In a way, I felt sorry for it. Beasts and animals weren’t like us. They didn’t kill for the sake of it. They killed to survive, when they were hungry.

Reaching forward, I leaned towards the jrikkia and closed its open gaze, my fingers drifting to the impossibly soft fur around its pointed ears.

Tears pricked my eyes. Perhaps leftover emotion from the terror, the shock…and sadness that these creatures had to die so that we could live. But I understood the way of this world. It was cruel and unfair. I was simply glad to be breathing.

The horde king was watching me, the fire flickering in his gaze, making his eyes appear like molten embers. Slowly, I pulled my hand away from the beast and turned my attention back to his pyroki.

Out of curiosity, I let my power build between the pyroki and me. I had never tried my gift on a creature before, only on Dakkari, on humans, and on Ghertun. I imagined cupping the energy between us and I pushed, pushed into the empty space…focusing…

I found nothing.

I dropped the one-sided connection, my shoulders sagging slightly. Perhaps I could have eased her pain. She had helped to protect me, after all.

When I looked back to the horde king, he was heating his sword in the flames and my stomach dropped. I knew this method of healing. My eyes went back to the wounds along the pyroki’s side and saw what her master had seen. The deepest gash along her side hadn’t clotted yet. All the wounds were deep.

“You will need to do this,” he rasped. “You are not strong enough to hold her down.”

My first reaction was to protest, but I knew it wouldn’t help. He was right. I could be useful to her if I did this, though she might hate me even more than she already did.

“Lysi?” he rasped.

I swallowed, my gut churning.

“I will.”

He nodded.

“Brave kalles.”