Madness of the Horde by Zoey Draven

Chapter Forty-Eight

“Iknow who you are.”

The Ghertun that stepped down from his throne of bones was younger than I had expected. He was tall and broad, his black eyes regarding me carefully, his head cocking to the side, a motion that reminded me of the Killup.

I suppressed the growl rising in my chest.

Blood was dripping from my temple and into my eye, coloring my vision. The guards watching me had enjoyed beating me because they thought I was powerless to stop them when in reality, I was biding my time.

Something frantic was clawing against my chest. Time, I knew. I was running out of it. Already, I’d been within the Dead Mountain—in that dark, festering place—for too long. The Ghertun had kept me chained for hours before they’d brought me into the presence of Lozza, their king. I had left my daggers back at the horde but they had taken my sword, as I’d known they would.

The chains shackling my wrists were easily breakable. The Ghertun didn’t have access to Dakkari steel or the stronger metals that ran deep within our planet. They didn’t have the technology or the means to extract it, that we knew of. They either vastly underestimated the strength of an enraged and determined Dakkari male…or they had simply never had one in their possession before.

Or both.

I gave Lozza a grin, more like a feral baring of my teeth, which made his expression falter for a moment before it smoothed away.

“And who exactly do you think I am?” I murmured quietly, never breaking his stare.

We were in a great hall carved from stone, deep within the mountain, where no light from the surface reached. The air was pungent and almost acidic. It coated my tongue and I had the strangest sense that I could suffocate from it.

How many times had I watched Vienne look up at the sky, or the moon, or the stars? How many times had I watched her lift her face back and feel the sun beam down on her skin…or close her eyes as she felt a soft breeze float across her cheeks?

I understood now why she’d found those sights and sensations so pleasurable. Because she’d been deprived of them here.

Many Ghertun were gathered, as if Lozza had called most of his people to the hall to witness whatever he had planned for me. My gaze tracked around slowly but I saw no vekkiri. I saw no Killup or Nrunteng. Mercifully, I saw no Dakkari either.

Their slaves were not present. Only a select number of the Ghertun population were because I was not so foolish as to believe that this was all that lived under the Dead Mountain.

Still, there were at least a hundred Ghertun gathered in this small space. The great hall was not so grand as the Dothikkar’s in Dothik, which could easily fill with five times as many beings.

“You are the horde king that laughs as you kill,” Lozza said as he stepped towards me, circling. “The one they say has a broken mind. The one they say wanders into the wild lands and bellows into the darkness.”

They have been watching me, I realized.

As if Lozza’s words summoned her, the shadowed form of my sister appeared next to the Ghertun king’s throne.

“She is here, Davik,” my sister whispered into my mind as she took a seat there.

I shook my head, my brows drawing together. My gaze refocused on the Ghertun king. He was staying just out of arm’s reach and there were four armed Ghertun guards close to me, their spears pointed at my throat.

My enuwip-dipped claws curled.

“I take it you received my message for your king?” Lozza asked.

“I am not here on behalf of the Dothikkar, Ghertun,” I rasped, never breaking his stare.

Thatstartled him. Briefly. His eyes blinked twice and then he asked, “Then why have you come, horde king?”

“I have come for the cure to vovic. And I have come for the beings that you have enslaved with it,” I stated, the chains rattling at my wrists, clinking against my Vorakkar cuffs.

A murmur went through the Ghertun present. Their language sounded like hisses and lisps and rolling trills to my ears. I knew no words in Ghertun except vovic.

Lozza was no fool. He turned to a male standing near the throne—near the shadowed form of my sister. They spoke, briefly, but the older male rattled his head and then Lozza turned his gaze back towards me.

“I assume you seek a cure for the vekkiri messenger since none of our slaves are missing,” Lozza said easily. “I had wondered if the Dothikkar would take an interest in her. She was my gift to him, however fleeting her life is…and vekkiri die so easily. They are almost impossible to keep alive for very long.”

I was surprised that I didn’t lunge and rip out his throat right then and there. That rage snapped within me. If Vienne’s life wasn’t on the line…I probably would have given in to that temptation. Lozza’s blood would’ve splattered all over the dark floor of his throne room and I’d have marked myself with it after my kill.

Perhaps the bloodlust glowed in my gaze too brightly because Lozza took a step back—just a small one—before he remembered himself.

“There is no cure,” Lozza said.

“There is,” I rasped. “But I know as a supposed ‘king’ to your people, who keep slaves, it is in your interest to pretend as if there is none. Why give them ideas and hope, after all, when they are destined to die in this dark hell?”

When I looked back to the throne, my sister had disappeared again.

“The cure and the enslaved, Lozza,” I grated. “Or blood will run through the Dead Valley.”

“You will be the only one who dies here this day, horde king,” Lozza hissed, for the first time showing his temper, and the mask of impassive amusement melted away, leaving fury and fear in its wake.

I grinned.

“The Dothikkar readies his army,” I bluffed. “The outposts ready their armies. The hordes ready their armies. You will never have access to the Teru gulch, nor passage across Drukkar’s Sea. And you certainly will never possess a heartstone of Kakkari. Your mountain will crumble and your people will die before that happens.”

“You lie,” he spit. “You have no army here. You bring a handful of warriors camped outside the valley and you think that is an army? I have an army, one bred for a specific purpose and soon, it is you that will fear us. I will not rest until I am sitting on top of the Dothikkar’s throne and he is lying dead at my feet. Until the open streets of Dothik are running rivers of blackened blood. Until the outposts and hordes are burned to the ground. It is you who will serve us.”

The Ghertun shifted throughout the throne room, the energy rising from Lozza’s words.

“Then we will go to war,” I rasped.

“Then we start now. And you will die first, horde king. I will send your head to the Dothikkar,” Lozza hissed. His eyes went to one of the four guards surrounding me. “Sebrissa.”

I lunged, snapping through the chains that encircled my wrists.

Deep, aching pain burned into my chest. One of the guards’ spears stabbed me, hitting bone, a necessary wound so that I could reach Lozza before he scurried away.

I bled on the Ghertun king, coating his shoulder, as I got behind him, whirling him around so that we faced the guards, my arm wrapped around his neck.

Lozza screamed when I plunged my hand into his side, my claws curling deep into his flesh.

Shrieking cries rose from the Ghertun present in the great hall. There was a brief moment of panic, of fluttered movement, before the room seemed to still again. I backed up, walking to the throne so that I could see the whole room.

Lozza was already limp in my arms, his limbs heavy as I dragged him. His taloned feet scraped across the stone, an unpleasant grating sound.

“Wh-what did you do?” he rasped, the words sounding garbled.

“I made friends,” I hissed, flexing my claws deep in his side, making an anguished groan tumble from his lips.

The guards were frozen in the center of the throne room and I saw more had poured in at the entrance from the brief commotion. It told me everything I needed to know about Lozza’s army. That he might be right about having large numbers but that they were not trained. This never would have happened in Dothik with Dakkari warriors at the Dothikkar’s side.

“Do you know what enuwip is?” I asked him.

A garbled sound rose from Lozza’s throat and when I looked down at him, even though his limbs were limp, his eyes were panicked and rolling.

“The Killup are a good ally to have,” I told him. “Now that I have your undivided attention, let us make a bargain. Your cure for mine. Unless you wish to bleed out on your throne.”

The Ghertun in the great hall were beginning to get restless, an anger rising, palpable and strong after the shock had worn off. Because even though Lozza was no king, they still remained loyal to him. And I wasn’t so much of a fool as not to know that if they swarmed me, I would be dead. There were too many of them.

“Tell them to stand back or I will tear my claws from your flesh,” I rasped in his ear. “And you know what will happen when I do that.”

“We have survived enuwip before,” Lozza rasped, his words slurred. “I will take my chances. Sebrissa!”

Vok.

My jaw tightened and I tore Lozza’s dull sword from his waist, tearing my claws from his body and throwing his limp form towards the throne, hearing his pained groan as he began to bleed out.

All at once the Ghertun in the room began to rush towards me. Most were unarmed but their numbers were great.

Closer and closer.

I growled, striking at the nearest male, slashing across his belly, and he fell. I switched my sword hand when Lozza’s blood made my grip slip, raking out with my claws, catching two Ghertun by surprise and cutting them. I hoped there was enough enuwip underneath my claws still to paralyze them, at least briefly.

My attacks only seemed to enrage the group of Ghertun more. All I heard was hissing and bones crunching as their legs propelled them closer.

One Ghertun launched at me. With a growl, I ducked, pivoted, and struck them down.

Then another came.

And another.

The wound in my chest seeped blood, pouring to my abdomen. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure launch at me. I turned, my sword raised, only to see it was a Ghertun child, its black eyes pinned on me, its lips pulled back into a snarl.

A child.

Horror filled me and I hesitated too long. I felt dozens of claws curl into my flesh, scrabbling, raking.

The mass of Ghertun hit me like a wall and an enraged bellow tore from my throat at the impact.

Nik, need to save her, need to get back to her, I thought, more blood dripping into my eyes, making them sting and blurring my vision.

The thought filled me with purpose—she filled me with purpose—and my muscles strained and pulled as I held my ground against the dozens and dozens of Ghertun out for my blood. If they got me down, it would be the end. I needed to push them back, to keep my footing, no matter what happened.

Suddenly, a strange hum filled the room, one that made my skin tingle because it was familiar. Then there was a flash of blinding blue light, one that made the Ghertun screech.

In the light, I saw the hall had been flooded with Ghertun, more than I could ever take on by myself. Dark squirming bodies that had begun to race towards me before the light had stopped them all in their tracks.

That was when I saw the source of it.

“Nik,” I rasped.

Horror and disbelief filled me. For a moment, I couldn’t trust what I was seeing.

Vienne was standing at the entrance of the great hall. Her eyes were glowing blue, her hair floating around her as if she were underwater, her mouth open in a soundless scream.

“Nik!” I roared. “Vienne!”

In her palm was the glowing heartstone.