Were they dead too? Or were they unconscious, like the two males outside the doors?
My eyes scanned over them, catching on familiar faces. Benn, though his eyes were closed and he was lying on his back, the bandage covering the stump of his arm dirtied.
AndTess.
I recognized the dark-haired female. Mina’s friend. She was sitting on the floor, staring at us with wide, solemn eyes as tears streamed down her dirtied cheeks. She was in shock, I knew. There were others awake as well. Like Jacques. A pregnant female. And a small boy, who couldn’t be older than some of the children in the horde. The boy was staring down at a woman close to him, her limp, dark hand clutched in his own.
“Vorakkar, there,” came an urgent voice. Teiro stepped forward, his sword flashing in the low light as he gestured to the remaining threedarukkars, very near where the line ofsarkiaswere standing. “They breathe. They’realive.”
“Take them,” I growled, my gaze flitting back to theSetava Terun.
The twelvesarkiaswere whispering together. An eerie sound, spoken in their language, that filled the throne room as the wet sound of blood dragged across the floor. Using mydarukkar’sblood as ink.
Were they praying to Kakkari? As if our goddess would heed their prayers.
“Enough,” I bellowed out, trudging through the thick piles of bodies, my eyes only on theSetava Terunas more than a dozen of mydarukkarsmade for thesarkias, tightening into a phalanx, swords drawn, their movements one.
“You will not take them,” theSetava Terunrasped, her eyes flickering to thedarukkars. “The markings are not yet complete. There is more work to be done.”
“Markings for what?” I growled. “The fog has spread even farther across the land with your blood magic!”
I heard a few of the humans gasp and sniffle.
Thesarkialeveled me a cold look. “There is no fog here. Just look around. Breathe in the air. Kakkari is giving us her blessing. The mark is working.” She looked at the group of humans. “He lies. Continue in your prayers!”
“There is no fog because myMorakkariis using her own power to ward it off from these lands,” I told her, glancing at the group of remaining humans. “Your Mina.”
My eyes connected with Tess’ as I said my wife’s given name, knowing that humans had no such misgivings about them, not like Dakkari.
“Mina?” Tess whispered, tears still falling down her face. A face that was bruised. A split lip, a rough scrape across her cheekbone. Her hair was tangled, her face pale and ashen, her lips dry.
“She is saving you all even now,” I said softly. “She is saving all of us!”
In Kakkari’s name, what hadhappenedhere since Mina and I left? Wasthiswhy my wife had felt such a need to return? As if she knew this was the fate that would fall on her villagers?
My palm tightened on my sword.
Turning to look back at theSetava Terun, I said, “Cease now or I willmakeyou.” Mydarukkarswere nearing thesarkiasalong the east wall. The witches had never once faltered in their whispered prayers even as their death loomed. “I will cut your head clean from your shoulders. And I will wipe out the entirety of your coven in a single instant.Cease!”
TheSetava Terunsmiled, revealing sharpened teeth, darkened with decay. “You forget that it wassarkiaswho ruled this land long before a king came. A male king,” she spat, “who took Dakkar from us and made us bend tohiswill. When it wasusmade from Kakkari’s own image!”
Twisted lies. Ones she actually seemed to believe.
“But no longer, horde king,” she hissed. She pointed a sharp claw at me as she spat, “I know who you serve. I know whoyourknee bends for.”
“I serve my horde,” I growled. “I come to reclaim my warriors you took and the humans you’ve preyed upon. And to end this madness before the east is completely consumed with the fog you just spread over it!”
With a whisper, theSetava Terunspoke in her own language, flicking her claws in a gesture towards the line of hersarkias.
That was when I felt it.
A familiar energy, building up against my skin.
When my gaze snapped to the line ofsarkias, I saw one who stood out, whose yellow eyes began to glow as she stepped forward. Her exposed flesh was a riddle of deep cuts and bloodied scrapes, not yet healed. Her hands were tipped in black blood and I watched as she cut a line across her chest, her claws as sharp as blades.
As blood began to seep from her wound, her eyes closed and the room seemed to hum. The back of my neck prickled. In an instant, as dread churned in my belly, I knew what had to be done.
I had talked to Mina of the prices paid for power. The price Kakkari asked for her given gifts. The price Mina was paying now.
