Page 5 of Humans Don’t Have Horns (A Crown of Blood and Magic #1)

Chapter Four

Lian

I’m having another nightmare. This time, I’m standing in a beautiful white gazebo full of colorful butterflies, right in the middle of a well-kept garden awash with light.

I sit there, amid all that beauty, paralyzed.

In the distance, a faceless monster devours my little brother.

I try to move but fail. I wake up in tears.

This was not a memory. My brother, the Crown Prince of Aldon, is very much alive. I sit on the mattress, trying to settle my breath. I soon realize I’m not alone.

My kidnapper crouches near me. His commanding figure looms large inside the small, spare tent.

He’s shaved now and clean of blood and gore.

He smells of soap and something sweet I struggle to name.

His appearance is so unlike the last time I faced him.

But he wears the same leather armor on his upper body and two axes on either side of his belt.

His obsidian-black eyes look tired. I freeze under his gaze.

Has he come to fulfill Minera’s demand for an offspring?

“You had a nightmare,” he says, frowning at me. To my shock, he spoke in fluent Aldonian. I open my mouth to speak and shut it again, unable to shake off my frozen state.

“Can you walk, or do you need me to carry you?” His eyes are fixed on some point behind me, as if the sight of me offends him .

“I can walk,” I croak. I have gained strength over the past few days, with Emek feeding me regularly. Even if she hadn’t, the last thing I want is for him to carry me or touch me in any way.

“Let’s go,” he commands, avoiding my eyes. “Go where?” I frown at him.

He stands up. “We’ll start with going away from here. We have no time. Come on.”

He speaks in my language with an untraceable accent, which I find astonishing.

Where did the Butcher study such enunciation?

Focus, Lian. Should I go with him? If he wants to rape me, why not here?

What if he just means to kill me? He told Minera he would.

I stand, and he hands me a dark cloak with a hood and a satchel I didn’t even notice he had.

I wear the heavy cloak and tuck the white strands of my hair under the cowl.

The crescent moon outside does little to illuminate the night.

I spot more tents. A few behemas are scattered in the camp.

Snorting occasionally. All else is quiet.

My kidnapper walks at a quick pace away from the camp and towers over the swamps surrounding it.

We pass several large, dangling objects that are revealed as human corpses as we get closer.

They are hard to make out in the darkness and in their rotting state but I observe that they have no horns.

They must be Puresouls. But I can’t make out their colors in the scant moonlight.

Red for Aldonian, blue for Renyan, or yellow for Kozari.

I regret eating earlier as I struggle not to retch.

I follow the Butcher silently, still reeling from the sight of the hanging bodies. The stench of decomposition blends with the reek of the swamps. I can no longer fight the urge to vomit. “We have no time for this,” he hisses at me.

I wipe my mouth and say with all the scorn I can muster, “I beg your pardon for being an inconvenience to you.” I don’t know what possesses me to speak to him this way.

He most likely hung those corpses we just passed, and the sound of the soldier’s skull being crushed during my abduction is still loud in my ears.

He mumbles angrily about my spoiled character in his language and resumes walking .

I’m again surprised to understand him, having no memory of learning the Cursed Ones’ language.

Over the past few days, my memories and dreams have been so tangled that I’m not sure what is real and what is false.

All I know is that since I woke up in a tent in the Cursed Ones’ swamp, I’ve been thinking of things I hadn’t thought of since I was thirteen. Since I moved to the palace.

I hurry and stumble after him. The thicket of grass is taller than me here and gets denser as we walk.

The Butcher cuts us a path with his ax. The silence of the swamps is unsettling, and I can only hear the grass he cuts down and my own footsteps.

In the darkness, I look around for predators, unseeing.

A quick movement in the shadows and a low growl have me jump in alarm. “There is something there,” I tell him.

“It’s a swamp lion. Keep moving,” he grunts impatiently, not missing a step. I’m not sure exactly what a swamp lion is, but anything with the word lion in it sounds lethal.

“What if it’s a troll?” I ask him, feeling like a complete idiot as soon as the words come out of my mouth.

“In the name of the Goddess, how fucking stupid are you heathens? There is no such thing as trolls. Now come on already. There are real, existing Mongans after you,” he says impatiently.

He has a point. I don’t dare ask why he is taking me away from these real, existing Mongans. I’m too scared he’ll change his mind.

***

It’s been hours since we left the camp in the dead of night.

The sun has risen, and the swamps are awakening.

The insects are humming, and the frogs croak loudly in my ears.

I grow tired of attempting to catch up to his long strides.

It’s ridiculous to go after him blindly like this.

He senses when I stop walking and turns back to me.

“Why did you stop?”

“Where are we going?” I demand.

“Away from the Mongans,” he answers slowly, as if I were an idiot.

“I got that,” I snarl .

He exhales heavily as if gathering patience. “The Mongans have a new warlord, and he is to impregnate you. I can take you out of the swamps, and you can make your way back to Aldon.”

“I’m not going back to Aldon,” I scoff. “After what you did, I’m good as dead in Aldon.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “Go wherever you want.”

“Take me to Renya,” I demand. “My mother was a Renyan princess. They will welcome me.” Renya is the only chance I have to stay alive.

He curls his upper lip. “No. After the swamps, you are on your own, princess,” he says, spitting out the last word with forceful disdain.

“Then I’m not going with you.” I dig my heels into the ground.

“You are like a child,” he retorts, sounding bewildered. He turns and resumes walking.

His words cut me deep. According to the True Religion, I am still considered a child.

Only when married does an Aldonian female become an adult.

My father wanted me to wed the Kozari king years ago, but he was already married.

My father waited patiently until the wife died of illness.

I had just turned twenty-two, quite a bit older than the usual marrying age for Aldonians females, at fifteen.

It’s not as if any Aldonian nobleman would have married me anyway, not with my colors.

“There cannot be a her without a him.” I hear the priest’s words in my head.

In Renya, it is different. Renyan females are free to lead their own lives.

If I can just find my way there, I would have a chance.

Not only to stay alive but to finally live a life worth living.

I feel hope bloom inside me for the first time in recent memory.

In Renya, I would never have to see the Kozari king again. Never have to feel him again.

I hurry and follow my kidnapper, ignoring his words. Let him call me a child, a baby, just as long as he gets me away from the new warlord.

The tall grass thins as we continue to walk.

Dead white trees replace the grass, producing eerie surroundings.

Their ominous presence makes me even more uneasy.

As if there was once life in the swamps before death took over.

We’re still walking with no stop by the end of the day.

The swamps look endless, and the heat and humidity make it almost impossible to breathe.

My clothes cling to me, and so do the strands of my long hair.

But the Butcher looks unaffected by it all.

I’m pretty sure I just saw an alligator’s nose peek above the water’s surface nearby. There is a waterskin in the satchel he gave me, and I drink while walking. There is no food. The stink of everything makes it easy to push hunger away.

I hear a noise and stop. This time, he stops too.

“Hide in there,” he whispers, pointing to a hollow, dead white tree.

I move quickly inside the hollow trunk. It’s a big tree, and I can stand up straight inside it.

From my hideout, I can see him clearly as he remains standing on the dirt road, turning his face to the behemas approaching.

He stands taller than ever, his shoulders drawn back in defiance.

Five behemas mounted by Cursed Ones stop in front of him. The five Cursed Ones – three males and two females – are wearing the same leather armor as the Butcher, and axes at their waists.

“Where is the heretic?” one of the males asks in Mongan, He looks to be in his early twenties, with long black hair braided back into a plait. My kidnapper remains silent.

“You are no longer the warlord, Daton. You have disobeyed the Goddess and betrayed your people. Hand over the heretic and your death will be swifter than a traitor’s.” The other grim-faced Cursed Ones remain quiet as they observe the exchange.

“Is this how much you want the part of warlord, Niro? You reduce yourself to the ways of Aldon and Kozari?” The Butcher’s voice is full of rebuke.

Niro raises his chin defiantly. “I obey the wishes of the Goddess. It is the only way for a Mongan.” But he lacks conviction. Some of the other Cursed Ones look increasingly wary.

“You obey Minera’s orders,” my kidnapper, the one they call Daton, scoffs.

“Same thing,” Nero snaps .

“Is it? The Goddess would not have wished for a woman to be forced.”

“She is not a woman. She is a heretic,” one of the Cursed Ones’ females spits, flashing her teeth. “That is what they said of Baghiva” my kidnapper responds, sounding newly dejected. “Do not compare us to them,” roars another Mongan male.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Niro,” Daton replies, almost pleading.

“You will not hurt me, old man,” Niro laughs dismissively. He does look young, less than twenty years, maybe. My kidnapper looks to be in his thirties, not more. I’m almost certain Daton is also the Butcher, which makes Niro’s dismissing tone seem even more out of place.

My kidnapper doesn’t even flinch before he throws his axes to the ground. “If you want to get to her, you will have to kill me first.”

Niro dismounts his behema and throws his axes to the ground as well.

“If it is death you seek, you have found it today,” he exclaims, throwing a quick punch at the Butcher’s face.

Then another and another. Daton never tries to protect his face.

He just stands there, absorbing the blows, as if he wants Niro to beat him to death.

What in Sun’s name is he doing? He suddenly takes action with a swift kick to Niro’s leg, breaking Niro’s calf bone in half.

My hands fly to my mouth as I try to strangle the sound trying to escape me. Niro falls to the ground, screaming in pain as he clenches his leg, calf bone visible through flesh. Everyone looks horrified, especially my kidnapper.

A stocky Cursed One dismounts his behema and approaches Daton. “Now we have lost both our old and new warlords.”

My kidnapper falls to his knees, his head bent toward the ground. He’s won the fight, but appears completely defeated.

“You are the Emancipator. You have done great things for our people, Daton. But now you have chosen to cripple another Mongan in his attempt to follow the commands of the oracle. There is a reason the warlord submits to the oracle. Surrender your armor and axes. You can no longer be part of our people. ”

“Bahar,” cries the female who spoke earlier, “we must bring him back to face trial.”

Bahar turns to face her. “The Emancipator? If not for him, I would have died a slave. This is a sad day as it is. Let us help Niro back to camp.” None of them argue with him further.

My kidnapper takes off his leather armor, picks up his axes from the dirt, and gives them to Bahar. He does all this with eyes fixed to the ground, in apparent lamenting submission. The Cursed Ones pick up an unconscious Niro and leave.

My kidnapper remains on his knees, his back hunched.

My eyes burn as the understanding of his sacrifice for my safety settles in.

Why did he protect me? His actions puzzle me and I can’t help wonder who Baghiva was and what happened to her.

I feel consumed with guilt. I climb out of my arboreal hiding spot.

I tell myself the best way to reward him now would be to walk alone to Renya.

To release him from the burden that I am. He doesn’t even notice I leave.