Page 18 of Humans Don’t Have Horns (A Crown of Blood and Magic #1)

Chapter Eleven

Lian

In the morning, I tell Daton we need to warn everyone about the demichads. I have no idea what can be done about them, but I can’t just do nothing as certain death approaches us.

“Yes, we should. It will be tricky, though, as you and I have something in common,” he says. I raise my eyebrows in question. “We’re both wanted dead by everyone in Amada,” he explains.

Indeed, we are. I groan in frustration, and Daton snickers at the sound.

He squats and starts to draw a map of Amada in the dirt.

The sea in the east, the Mountains of Doom in the west, Aldon and Kozari in the northeast, Renya in the southeast. The swamps are in the center, and in the southwest, near the Mountains of Doom, no kingdom rules.

That is the Land of the Outlaws. Only runaways dare to live so close to the Mountains of Doom.

“Why do the Mongans live in the swamps and not there? Wouldn’t it be easier to live in the Land of the Outlaws?” I ask. Daton said the swamps are uninhabitable to humans. Hardly anything humans can eat grows there, and it is full of predators.

“It would be a far better place to live,” he hums in agreement.

“The land is fertile there, but the Mongans dread the Mountains of Doom. The oracle never agreed to move there. She believes there is great evil in those mountains. Greater than the Puresouls’ wantonness even.

But if we go there, then we could find someone to spread the rumor of the demichads. ”

I look dismayed at the map he drew and the shortage of options before us. “But they are all outlaws. How can we trust them?” I ask.

“We are outlaws too,” he replies with a shrug.

I remain quiet at that, and he seems to sense my uneasiness.

“When you left for Renya, I thought of going there. The land there is good. Easy to live off. I told you once I was a farmer—” But he doesn’t complete the sentence.

As if it’s too hard for him to say those things out loud.

After all the atrocities he shared with me.

A hundred years ago, before they killed his wife and enslaved him, he was a farmer and loved farming.

I can hear it in his voice. I can hear the longing for that.

And it makes sense to me, although it shouldn’t because he’s the Butcher.

But maybe some of us have parts that don’t quite fit.

Maybe some of us are anomalies. Maybe we all are.

“But you said the Mongans fear those mountains,” I remind him.

“And the Puresouls believe in trolls. There are enough real things to fear in Amada. There is no need to invent more of them. And I’ve been there before.

The mountains are gloomy and fearful with their looming, enormous black rocks.

They are so high and steep that they look like a wall of nightmares, casting wide ominous shadows.

But where the sun reaches, the land is fine.

It’s quiet. And the eeriness of the mountains frightens away all unwanted company,” he explains.

“You’ve dreamed of going there for a long time,” I observe.

It’s not a question because when he talks about it, he lights up in a way I haven’t seen before.

He grins sheepishly at me. He smiles, and those creases at his eyes dance ever so lightly, and he suddenly looks like the farthest thing from the Butcher.

Even his eyes don’t look obsidian black anymore. It is almost as if—

“Where did you plan to go? Now that Renya is not an option. Kozari, maybe?” he asks, and I realize I was too busy staring at him to actually keep track of our conversation.

“No.” It comes out harsher than it should .

“Right.” His voice is clipped and his smile so gone I think I imagined it.

“Kidnapping you eliminated that place for you too. I—” But then he stops.

Was he going to apologize? Does he feel guilty?

I should tell him he shouldn’t, that he didn’t harm me.

Not really. He kidnapped me from prison. Set me free in a way.

But now that I can’t go to Renya, where can I go?

“When the path is unclear, the best thing to do is start walking,” I say to him and to myself.

“We’ll try to warn everyone about the demichads.

And after that, if I’m not eaten or killed, I’ll work something out.

How long would it take us to get to the Land of the Outlaws? “

“Three weeks if I can steal us some horses.” He wipes off the map he drew on the dirt, and I frown.

“Why so long? It would be too late.”

“We’re in Aldon. So we can’t walk the main roads.” Neither of us speaks of the four soldiers from whom he rescued me. Also, according to Tilil, there is a bounty on my head. We’re basically the two most hunted people in Amada right now.

I swallow. “But it will be too late.”

He hums in agreement. “It is too long, but I can’t take you to the swamps. I won’t be able to keep you safe from the oracle. The best thing to do is go to the Land of the Outlaws and hope to run into a Mongan on our way.”

“But aren’t you banished from the Mongans? Wouldn’t they hurt you if you encounter them?” I ask.

“They can try,” he simpers as if the mere idea that Mongans can harm him is a joke. “If we can warn the Mongans, then everyone will be aware of the demichads’ return. Renya will warn the other Puresouls.”

I want to argue, but if my aunt was going to turn me over to Aldon, then she is in enough of a relationship with Aldon to ask them for help from the demichads. And Aldon will protect its other ally—the Kozaries. No one will protect the Mongans.

Although I’m less and less sure Aldon can protect anyone from the demichads.

There are songs and tales of how King Desh, the king of Aldon during the War of Light , defeated the demichads with the help of Sun.

Renya and Kozari submitted to Aldon because of the demichads.

And yet they were not defeated at all if what the demichad told me is true.

***

I ask Daton to try to steal the horses from soldiers and not farmers. The farmers here are poor, and losing a horse could be the difference between working the land and becoming beggars. And I’ve seen how easily he can take down the Aldonian soldiers if he needs to.

“Why should I care for the Puresouls’ farmers?” He looks at me askance. “They are as honorless as the soldiers. They prosper from our exploitation. In a hundred years, I have not met even one Puresoul who stood up for my people.”

Yeah, these are hard arguments to counter, but it still can’t justify killing random commoners. Trying to placate him, I say, “Maybe they’re afraid. Going out against the church and the royals is a terrifying thing for a commoner.”

I only manage to exasperate him though. He’s practically seething now. “Who knows better than the Mongans what the price is for defying the church and your royals? But better to die than to live a life with no honor.”

“So they all just deserve to die?” I exclaim.

“Yes,” he growls back, and I can only gape at him incredulously for a while.

“You can’t mean that! There are innocents.

There are children!” I exclaim. “I know you don’t mean it.

I know you don’t drink the blood of Puresoul kids and—” Because yes, he’s killed a lot of Puresouls, but he’s not the monster they like to portray.

“Why the fuck would I drink the blood of Puresoul kids? Like I would contaminate myself with your blood. Fucking Puresouls and their fucking imagination,” he snarls.

There is a long silence between us as I stare at him . That was not why I expected him not to drink kids’ blood.

He growls, “For fuck’s sake, Lian, I don’t kill children. There is no honor in killing children. ”

“Thank the Goddess. I started freaking out there,” I sigh in relief.

“But every other Puresoul is fair game, and there is honor in killing the oppressor,” he says and starts walking away, ending our argument.

***

I sit waiting for him until noon, my mind bursting with contradicting thoughts and questions.

If I were a Mongan, would I view things as he does?

And after all the atrocities he has endured, can I judge him?

But is he a good person, and why does it matter to me so much?

Maybe I’m not good at all myself. He protected me from his people, but what have I ever done to help the Mongans?

I always believed what I was told. I never questioned any of it. Am I a good person? Can I become one?

At noon, Daton returns with two mares, and by their saddles, I can tell they belonged to the army.

It gives me a fuzzy feeling that he didn’t steal from farmers after all, and I work very hard to stifle a smile.

Apparently doing a really crappy job at it because he growls, “Stop being so happy with yourself, or I’ll steal another pair. ”

“Sorry.” I bite my lower lip in the attempt to kill my growing smile.

“And stop doing that too,” he scolds.

“What? What am I doing now?” I exclaim.

Daton just shakes his head as if I’m a lost cause and hands me a knife. “You need to learn how to defend yourself now that you’re an outcast.”

I scoff at the knife, and Daton smiles wolfishly, a smile full of white teeth.

A common smile, my guardian would have called it.

But it is the best smile, and it makes my knees feel like jelly.

I’m fearful he will notice my blush. He’s probably smiling because the idea of the Princess of Aldon becoming an outcast is amusing to him, or even worse, the idea of me fighting is hilarious. But I don’t find it in me to care.

“I’m not sure I should be trusted with a knife. Not after the poor way I fought you with it.” I keep eyeing the knife gingerly, trying to distract myself from my weak knees.