Blood of the Lost: The Darkness Within Saga: Book 2

by JD Franx

  “Your offerings are acceptable,” Lycori explained, by way of translation. “They will not be returned, even if the goddess refuses your request.” Karlag nodded his agreement. Vexa pulled Corleya closer, until their noses touched. On the verge of turning her stomach inside out, Corleya turned her head. The witch whispered in her ear so only she could hear, using the common tongue.

  “Welcome to your new home, sweet child.” Trembling and trying desperately not to gag, Corleya sighed with relief as the women rose and walked away. “Come, eat,” the old woman said, as Lycori translated once more. “We must fill our bellies before we fill our minds. All the offerings and slaves may eat.”

  Karlag tugged the rope attached to the noose around Lycori’s neck. Pulling her up from the ground, he followed after Vexa as she shuffled towards the massive cook fire. Out of immediate danger, Corleya’s empty stomach groaned with a renewed desire as the scent of cooking meat from the fire hit her once more. Two of the Sartaq children turned the spit as a large chunk of unrecognisable game slowly roasted over the fire.

  The closer they walked, Corleya could see Lycori’s nose turn at the smell of the roasting meat. Not wanting the Kordanu tribe to realize that she was a vampyr, Lycori had not fed in weeks. Corleya had watched helplessly as Lycori nibbled on the food fed to the slaves to keep up appearances, but continued to grow weaker as the days passed. She’d even begun to age. A stiff breeze blew through the camp and Lycori gagged, nearly overwhelmed by the smell of cooking meat. Corleya wiped the drool from her mouth, shaking with hunger.

  Forced to stop and sit on the ground twenty feet from the fire, Corleya was positive Lycori was turning a shade of green. “You all right?”

  “No,” she said, clearly fighting a battle with her stomach.

  “How long can you go without eating?” Corleya asked, worried.

  “It’s not that, it’s...” The clang of metal on metal interrupted her and Corleya turned to where two tribal teenagers were helping the young boys remove the heavy spit from the fire. As the boys dropped the spit-handle closest to the captives in the dirt, the spit spun, revealing the bounty of the successful morning hunt. Corleya gagged, instantly dry heaving in her mouth as she recognized the top half of Chano Kordanu’s cooked body hanging from the spit. Alia turned sideways, tossing her meagre stomach contents as well. Lycori groaned for the third time.

  Karlag and his scout jumped to their feet, weapons drawn, but they were seconds too slow, finding themselves surrounded by spear-wielding Sartaq warriors. Karlag’s daughter and the other priestess never moved, as if somehow not surprised at what transpired.

  Vexa turned and tilted her head. “No one hungry?” she said in the common tongue.

  CAIRNWOOD

  Frozen by panic and indecision, Kael realized he had to do something, even if it meant using himself as a distraction. As the first hollow dog reached the bottom of the oak tree, he eased Cassie back up into the tree and prepared to act. A series of whines and snuffling grunts drifted up from below as the Orotaq handler led his black dog around the tree. About to drop from his hiding spot onto the two below, Kael reached for his blade just as Kyah snatched at his wrist.

  Joined by two more dogs, the first finally caught their scent, barking and snarling, the others added their sharp cadence as well. Desperate and short for time, Kyah clawed at Kael’s travel pack. Opening the flap, he turned to give her better access, hoping she had an idea. When he felt something pull free from his pack, he turned to see a pack of their leather-wrapped dried meat and the cloth bag of spices that Seifer had given them before leaving Dasal.

  Working as fast as possible, Kyah grabbed a piece of jerked beef and dropped it down the side of the tree the dogs had not gotten to yet while she grabbed a handful of spices and sprinkled it down through the leaves and around the tree, finishing above the agitated black dogs. In seconds, the barking stopped and silence ensued, but it did not last as the dogs began to sneeze and whine. Kael watched through the leaves as one of the dogs jumped to the far side of the tree and snatched the jerky. It let out a quick growl, and it was all the other dogs needed to race in for their share. The three powerful, black hounds fought over the single piece of dried meat and the Orotaq handlers yelled, beating them with leather whips. Never known to cower, the hollow dogs immediately turned and attacked their masters. Kael, Kyah, and Cassie, heard what was going on below, but could not make out much through the heavy leaf cover. Snarling dogs and cursing Orotaq told them that the three on three battle had no sure winner. Finally, a loud, solid crack and several simultaneous yelps rolled up into the branches, followed by whining from the two cowered dogs; the fight between hollow dog and Orotaq handler over, one dead dog was a clear loser.

  “Swamp-cursed hound bit me,” the Orotaq handler cursed, as they heard a body drop to the dirt.

  “Stop crying, newbie, serves ya right for being so damn slow,” a second handler barked. “These stupid things are tame. Wait ‘til ya have to get yer own from the Hollow.”

  Quiet up until that point, but clearly amused, the third handler snorted. “You wanted to be a Handler, Scrot. You don’t get faster and learn how they work, yer ass will feed the wild ones out in the Hollow’s bog. Come on, wasted ‘nough time, nuthin’ here.” The handlers and two remaining dogs circled the tree and headed back to the town square as Kael and the others watched through the leaves.

  “Crap. That was close,” Kael sighed, leaning back against a branch. “What the hell was all that about?” he asked in a quiet voice, not really expecting an answer.

  Like always, Kyah surprised him. “That one handler must be a new recruit. He’s still learning to understand the temperament of the hollow dogs. From what we learned about the Orotaq from the Dead Sisters, once a handler is experienced enough, he ventures out into the swamps of Black Hollow to capture one of the wild hollow dogs that live there. If he survives, the creature is his.”

  “It sounds like those dogs are called wild ones,” Kael added.

  “So it does,” Kyah replied. Cassie shivered. Kyah slid her arm around the young girl and held her tight.

  “That was quick thinking, Kyah. Smart.”

  “More like luck. It is something that seems to follow you around at times. I did not expect that to fool them.”

  “Glad you see it that way,” he snorted softly. She shook her head and shrugged to let him know that either were irrelevant. He agreed. It worked, that was all that mattered.

  To their right, about thirty feet away, the door to the town lodge slammed open and three more Orotaq joined those already watching the citizens.

  Kael was positive the leader of the raiding party was the monster in the middle of the three. Towering over the two with him, Kael guessed his weight at close to four hundred pounds. His entire head was bald, except for the fist size patch of jet black hair at the back of his skull. Braided, it hung like a thick, black viper to just below his waist line. The man was massive, with tight corded muscles everywhere, and Kael could see a glint of sharp teeth past the man’s scarred, crooked smile. With no shirt and dirty, bloodstained, doeskin pants, he was a fearsome sight. Branding scars covered his pale blue flesh, but he was covered in so many battle scars that Kael could not tell where the brands began and the scarring ended. The left side of his neck, shoulder, arm, and ribs were a mess of burnt scar tissue. There was very little flesh that did not have a scar of some sort present. Several stab and arrow-wound scars added to the big man’s tally. Kael shook his head. The monster looked unkillable.

  “God in heaven, that big bastard must be hard to kill,” he whispered, in awe. Remembering what Lycori had told him after meeting the Orotaq for the first time after being captured by Sythrnax brought back a plague of memories. Just like back in the Wildlands Forest, Kael felt his mind slipping and his body began to shake.

  “Fight it, Kael,” Kyah whispered, leaning forward. “Focus. Control it. Do not lose control here, we will be caught.” She shifted position again in order to
move closer. Grabbing his face, she stared into his eyes. “Fight it!” Her voice grounded him to reality and he pushed the caustic memories away.

  “Is this ever gonna stop?” He sighed, wiping sweat from his face and forehead. He realized the flashback also left behind Lycori’s knowledge about the Orotaq.

  Remembering that she told him the Orotaq considered almost everything below them on the food chain good to eat did not help to do much but make him sick. Though they looked relatively human, they were bigger, meaner, and a hell of a lot stronger. They were not cannibalistic towards their own kind, but anything smaller than them was fair game when it came to the cook fire.

  Some of the raid leader’s wounds and scars were likely the result of mere hunting trips, though Kael recognized most were from war, pillaging, and killing. He focused on the big man, knowing that as tough as it might be, he would have to find a way to kill him. The Orotaq leader walked out to the square and took a careful account of all the people from the town. Feeling helpless was all Kael could do as they watched what unfolded before them. As much as he wanted to help, sacrificing their lives wouldn’t help the townspeople.

  Without looking directly at anyone, the Orotaq leader seemed to be staring at all the townspeople at the same time. Kael felt the branches below his feet shake and knew it was coming from Cassie without even having to look. A booming voice reached his ears and he parted the leaves in front of his face in order to get a better look.

  “My name is General Wairekk Blackborn and your town now belongs to me. Those of you here will work the mines starting on the morrow at the rise of day’s light. Some of you will be chosen to cook and feed the others who work the mines. During this day’s darkness you will all rest. The morn will bring mining, cooking, or dying. That choice will be for each one of you to make for yourselves. It will be your last act of free will,” he explained. “Your people had a leader. If he lives, come forward. Now.”

  Cornelius Redding had been the mayor of Cairnwood for as long as most people could remember. With a fair and honest reputation, not a single person in Cairnwood would wish him harm. When he stood up as ordered, to help his people through the current crisis, no one expected him to survive the encounter with Wairekk Blackborn. He went anyway.

  “I am the mayor here,” he said, standing with his hand in the air. His wife, Anise, grabbed his leg and pleaded with him to sit back down, but with a gentle touch only a loved one can give, he placed his hand on her cheek and kissed her forehead. Leaving her sobbing in the arms of friends and family, he walked to the front of the crowd to speak with Wairekk.

  The Orotaq leader was almost three feet taller than Carinwood’s mayor, but still, Cornelius looked up at the towering warrior even though visible tremors of fear quaked all the way into his leather boots.

  “I am Cairnwood’s mayor,” he repeated. “I can speak for the village. What can I do for you?” he asked, his voice like his body, trembled with despair.

  “You reek of fear, little man, and yet you come forth to represent these... people,” Wairekk said, the last word layered in disgust.

  “I do,” he said. “It is my responsibility to the village.”

  “Your settlement has chosen a wise leader. Even terrified and facing death, you stand up to commitment. The Orotaq respect bravery. You have earned my respect, surprising as that is. You will help my warriors and give them what they ask. Any questions?”

  “Yes, two. Questions, I mean,” Cornelius replied. Nervous and still shaking, it was clear to everyone, including Kael and the others up in the tree, that he was pushing his luck.

  Wairekk, however, laughed at the mayor’s persistence. “Your bravery knows no bounds. It has earned you the right to receive two answers, little man. Ask.”

  “Why did you attack us? Why kill every child you could find? Why? We have never threatened you. Your lands are far to the north. Why would you do this?” he yelled, no longer able to control himself.

  Wairekk’s hand grasped Cornelius’s neck so fast no one but Kael and Kyah saw the big man move. “First answer—because we can. Second answer—human grubs are too small to work enough in the mines to be worth feeding, and though I said two answers, I will answer your third. The Orotaq prepare for war, and your mines have black glass. I have been patient waiting for you stupid humans to find it. I will wait no longer. My shamans will show you how to find it,” he snarled. Cornelius’s struggled to draw a breath, finally succeeding in pulling some air into his lungs as Wairekk continued speaking. “We use black glass to make all our weapons. Your town is claimed by no king or country, so I claim it on behalf of the Orotaq. This town now belongs to Black Hollow. You will work, you will eat, you will shit, and you will die until we have what we need. Any resistance will be met with death. There will be no exceptions. Am I clear?” The big man yelled, his voice carrying out over the crowd.

  The murmurs that rose from the gathered townspeople were ones of submission, but Kael detected a few mutters of dissent. His stare found and locked on the few with hatred emanating from their voices. They were the ones he needed to get to.

  Having made his point, Wairekk dropped Cornelius to the ground without harming him.

  Addressing the town once more, his voice rose in volume. “My second is Commander Varrush Dawn. He will command this work camp in my absence. Any concerns you have, we do not care. Mine, cook, or die. Breeding will result in death the moment the grub draws breath. We will not waste food on those who cannot work. Rest until the morn, but you will remain in this area. Attempting to leave will result in your death and as punishment for not stopping you, food rations for everyone else will be halved. Is that understood?” Though his voice reached everyone gathered, Wairekk’s eyes were locked to Cornelius’.

  The mayor nodded.

  CAULDRON’S TEETH MOUNTAIN RANGE

  Corleya and Lycori could both see the struggle Chief Karlag fought with himself, as every ounce of warrior blood demanded vengeance for the death of his son, while the chief’s mentality knew such action would only lead to his immediate death. With no other choice, he dropped his weapons and ordered his scout to do the same. The Sartaq warriors took the weapons and forced the two men to sit, where they remained under heavy guard. As Chano’s body was pulled from the campfire spit, still steaming, and carried to a wooden table, Vexa shuffled closer. Stopping in front of Karlag and slowly sitting, she crossed her legs and faced him. The tribe’s youngest children added more wood to the fire, lighting the clearing as full dark settled in.

  “All speak from this point will be in the common tongue, understood?” Vexa asked, getting a nod from Karlag. “The blood-price for trespassing has been paid, Chief of the Kordanu,” she continued. “Now we may speak of agreements and war.”

  “You killed my son. The future chief of our tribe...” A wave of Vexa’s hand cut him off.

  “Your son violated our pact, the one we have with every tribe of this forest. You and your kind are not welcome here, Karlag Kordanu. Choose carefully your words or you will join your son.” Karlag struggled to control himself, Corleya could see his muscles flexing with the desire to attack.

  Instead, he bowed. “My apologies. We came at the request of the other tribes, we felt the slave offerings would suffice for payment of blood-price.”

  “Slaves work or breed, Chief. They don’t fight and they don’t die to pay the price of your crimes. Your tribe has forgotten this. I will speak no further on this matter. Make your request of me so your daughter and I can take it to the vile goddess.”

  “But...”

  Karlag’s objection was cut short again, this time from the words spit from Vexa’s mouth. “Hugr stiltr.” The old woman raised her right hand and smoke-coloured magic swirled through her fingers as it slowly drifted up Karlag’s nose and into his ears. His body stiffened, every muscle went rigid and his eyes turned a dark grey.

  “This conversation about your son is over, Chief of the Kordanu. Do I make myself clear now?” Vexa said, venomo
usly. Karlag nodded as his body began to tremble. “Say it, Chief.”

  “The conversation about my son is over.” Corleya felt an obscene chill crawl up her spine at the chief’s monotonous tone. Every ounce of the proud warrior’s will had vanished as if swallowed by the witch’s magic.

  “For the last time, what is your request to my tribe?” Vexa repeated, and closed her fist on the smoky magic. Karlag’s muscle tremors eased even though several grey strands continued drifting up his nose.

  “To join us in war against the northern defilers,” he gasped. As Karlag struggled to catch his breath, Vexa opened her hand, pulling the last strands of magic from his mind. Finally free of her magical influence, but barely conscious, he added, “They... They have violated the peace treaty. Two of the slaves we... we brought are proof that our lands have been trespassed on.” The chief collapsed, unconscious, as Vexa wiped at the blood dripping from her nose and eyes. She turned, catching Corleya as she stared with horrid fascination.

  The witch doctor smiled. “Exerting your magic over another person’s mental power in such a manner carries a price. All magic does, northerner. It is merely a matter of what price you are willing to pay. I have paid it willingly for thirty years.” She rose and walked away, the two Kordanu priestesses followed without saying a single word.

  Unable to tear her eyes from the old woman, Corleya couldn’t stop herself from shaking. “I’m not an expert on magic, but that’s not normal, especially for only thirty years. Is it, Lycori?”

  “No,” Lycori said, slowly shaking her head. “That was Sartaq spirit magic, it demands a heavier price from the user than any other magic that exists, except for a DeathWizard’s maybe. From what my grandfather told me, tribal spirit magic gets worse. Much worse.”