The Bronze Blade
Page 4
The girl tumbled to the ground, rolling into a ball to avoid the flames. Flames would not be enough. They would only bring her pain that might weaken her from cheating Fate’s plan. She let out a low grunt when she hit a pair of leather wrapped legs. Her tumble halted, she looked up into the eyes of the most fearsome creature she’d ever seen, all the more terrifying, because he looked nothing like a monster.
His eyes were cold and beautifully sloped; his long hair was pulled back into a neat topknot. His face was severe, as if sculpted from rock, and his skin was the soft brown of newly dried clay. From the length of his beard, he was old, but not a single grey hair touched his temples.
He looked at her for a long moment, then he looked up and the other men fell silent. The girl understood immediately. He was their chief. Or god. Perhaps the beautiful monster was a god come to earth, though his legs certainly felt solid. The chief said something to her captor in a low voice. He responded in the same mysterious language. They went back and forth for some time, with another voice—a younger one—occasionally sounding between them.
The chief did not sound pleased. After a few more heated moments, the girl felt herself yanked up by the hair again, then she hung in front of the god-like creature as he peered into her eyes. She did not break her stare, but met his eyes boldly. After all, she didn’t want to show respect; she was hoping the monster would kill her. Quickly.
There was a faint lift at the corner of his eyebrow, then he said something to the girl she didn’t understand. She didn’t know how she was so certain he was speaking to her, but there was not a doubt in her mind that it was so. He put a hand to her jaw, then gripped her neck, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her head swam and her eyes closed. The raucous sounds of the monsters’ camp picked up again, and she thought she heard more cackling laughter. Or perhaps it was only the fire popping. As the wave of numbness swept over her, the voices drifted to the back of her mind.
She didn’t know, and for the first time, she didn’t care. She was peaceful. Swimming in oblivion. The last thing she remembered was a sharp pop at her neck, and then she knew nothing else.
As she woke, she curled around him. Her child’s little warm body was wrapped in her arms, and he clung to her. She was warm, and morning thirst pressed against the back of her throat. Her boy smelled sweet, as if he’d spent the day playing at the edge of the river in the sun while she washed their clothes. She pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his neck to nuzzle his skin.
But as she drew closer, the burning in the back of her throat became a fire. She clutched the child when he began to struggle in her arms. The girl felt an aching in her jaw, and she stretched her mouth open as her teeth lengthened. Long. Longer. Her mouth dropped open in pain, her nerves woke, and then everything—
EVERYTHING woke.
Pain.
Like a crackling fire along her skin, spreading and digging into her as she curled her shoulders, no longer aware of the body in her arms. No longer aware of her own breath. Her body was an open wound.
Worse than the fever. Worse than giving birth. Like nothing she could have imagined.
She knew she was dying. Her eyes closed against the agony, she threw her head back and howled. Her mind was consumed by the burning in her throat. Her belly. She opened her eyes, but there was only blackness around her when she heard it.
Th-thunk.
Th-thunk.
Th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk.
The sound was the beating of a primal drum. The call of panicked prey. Her jaw ached, and hunger tore at her throat.
Th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk.
Her lips felt for the soft thrumming of the vein. Then her mouth dropped open, and she plunged her teeth into the flesh, biting down hard as her prey squealed. She rolled over it, trapping the creature under her as she drew even deeper, desperate for the relief the hot liquid splashed against her tongue.
Sweet.
The sweetest taste that had ever crossed her lips. Richer than honey from the hive. It splashed her lips and washed down her throat until the flesh ran dry. Then she sucked at the vein, licking her lips for the last precious drops.
She rolled to her back, staring into the nothingness that surrounded her before her eyes closed again in relief.
As the pain ebbed from her limbs and throat, the girl blinked back into awareness.
She was still surrounded by the scent of animal skins and blood, only it smelled far, far worse. She wasn’t dead, but she was still in the monsters’ camp. Something heavy lay over her arm, but she couldn’t see.
She pulled away and crawled to the edge of the tent until she came to a piece of animal skin that was not stretched as tightly as the others. She pushed the flap out until a low beam of light shone in. It was still blackest night, but even a sliver of light was enough. She could see perfectly in the darkness.
She turned back to see what lay with her, and her mind seized.
It was a child. No more than six or seven years, the small body lay crumbled in the center of the tent, his throat torn out, as if an animal had attacked it. Shaking, she crawled over to him, flipping him over with shaking hands until she could see the lifeless brown eyes.
The girl lifted shaking fingers to her mouth and felt the long, curving fangs that pressed against her lips.
Her mouth dropped open in a mindless roar.
She screamed, and she didn’t stop.
Chapter Two: The Monster
They called her Saaral. It was the word for woman in their language. She thought. She was the only female in the camp except for the human women they would occasionally capture and kill.
His eyes were cold and beautifully sloped; his long hair was pulled back into a neat topknot. His face was severe, as if sculpted from rock, and his skin was the soft brown of newly dried clay. From the length of his beard, he was old, but not a single grey hair touched his temples.
He looked at her for a long moment, then he looked up and the other men fell silent. The girl understood immediately. He was their chief. Or god. Perhaps the beautiful monster was a god come to earth, though his legs certainly felt solid. The chief said something to her captor in a low voice. He responded in the same mysterious language. They went back and forth for some time, with another voice—a younger one—occasionally sounding between them.
The chief did not sound pleased. After a few more heated moments, the girl felt herself yanked up by the hair again, then she hung in front of the god-like creature as he peered into her eyes. She did not break her stare, but met his eyes boldly. After all, she didn’t want to show respect; she was hoping the monster would kill her. Quickly.
There was a faint lift at the corner of his eyebrow, then he said something to the girl she didn’t understand. She didn’t know how she was so certain he was speaking to her, but there was not a doubt in her mind that it was so. He put a hand to her jaw, then gripped her neck, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her head swam and her eyes closed. The raucous sounds of the monsters’ camp picked up again, and she thought she heard more cackling laughter. Or perhaps it was only the fire popping. As the wave of numbness swept over her, the voices drifted to the back of her mind.
She didn’t know, and for the first time, she didn’t care. She was peaceful. Swimming in oblivion. The last thing she remembered was a sharp pop at her neck, and then she knew nothing else.
As she woke, she curled around him. Her child’s little warm body was wrapped in her arms, and he clung to her. She was warm, and morning thirst pressed against the back of her throat. Her boy smelled sweet, as if he’d spent the day playing at the edge of the river in the sun while she washed their clothes. She pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his neck to nuzzle his skin.
But as she drew closer, the burning in the back of her throat became a fire. She clutched the child when he began to struggle in her arms. The girl felt an aching in her jaw, and she stretched her mouth open as her teeth lengthened. Long. Longer. Her mouth dropped open in pain, her nerves woke, and then everything—
EVERYTHING woke.
Pain.
Like a crackling fire along her skin, spreading and digging into her as she curled her shoulders, no longer aware of the body in her arms. No longer aware of her own breath. Her body was an open wound.
Worse than the fever. Worse than giving birth. Like nothing she could have imagined.
She knew she was dying. Her eyes closed against the agony, she threw her head back and howled. Her mind was consumed by the burning in her throat. Her belly. She opened her eyes, but there was only blackness around her when she heard it.
Th-thunk.
Th-thunk.
Th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk.
The sound was the beating of a primal drum. The call of panicked prey. Her jaw ached, and hunger tore at her throat.
Th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk.
Her lips felt for the soft thrumming of the vein. Then her mouth dropped open, and she plunged her teeth into the flesh, biting down hard as her prey squealed. She rolled over it, trapping the creature under her as she drew even deeper, desperate for the relief the hot liquid splashed against her tongue.
Sweet.
The sweetest taste that had ever crossed her lips. Richer than honey from the hive. It splashed her lips and washed down her throat until the flesh ran dry. Then she sucked at the vein, licking her lips for the last precious drops.
She rolled to her back, staring into the nothingness that surrounded her before her eyes closed again in relief.
As the pain ebbed from her limbs and throat, the girl blinked back into awareness.
She was still surrounded by the scent of animal skins and blood, only it smelled far, far worse. She wasn’t dead, but she was still in the monsters’ camp. Something heavy lay over her arm, but she couldn’t see.
She pulled away and crawled to the edge of the tent until she came to a piece of animal skin that was not stretched as tightly as the others. She pushed the flap out until a low beam of light shone in. It was still blackest night, but even a sliver of light was enough. She could see perfectly in the darkness.
She turned back to see what lay with her, and her mind seized.
It was a child. No more than six or seven years, the small body lay crumbled in the center of the tent, his throat torn out, as if an animal had attacked it. Shaking, she crawled over to him, flipping him over with shaking hands until she could see the lifeless brown eyes.
The girl lifted shaking fingers to her mouth and felt the long, curving fangs that pressed against her lips.
Her mouth dropped open in a mindless roar.
She screamed, and she didn’t stop.
Chapter Two: The Monster
They called her Saaral. It was the word for woman in their language. She thought. She was the only female in the camp except for the human women they would occasionally capture and kill.
