Chapter 18
Gordack Hunting Disaster, And Dinner
Gordack sniffed the hot night air. Heated with blood and death. The sweat of human fear and sweet flesh better than any pork. The stink of lycan fur and nipping bestial rage.
And the powerful biting aroma of rats.
The kind that made your eyes sting with tears of pride.
But the canyons these humans called roads in Chemarin were too scrawny for a ratling’s body. The tiny stone buildings cramped too close together. The alleyways wouldn’t even fit a full grown lycan. Maybe a tigress cub.
Maybe.
But those darklings spoiled their young too much to use them properly for war. Not much better than the humans who avoided using their young entirely for it.
His nine-foot frame packed with solid muscle and shielded by even more solid black armor took up too much space on these cobble roads. He even chose sword and axe so ridiculously short they hung off his waist.
But countering the lack of space here was critical enough to warrant it.
Despite how the cramped walls and the stone everywhere made his boots clank so loud any prey with functional ears could hear him coming miles away.
Well, if the Soul Magus hadn’t cut off the natural echoing of the stone. The hex spell consumed the life of sound.
Preventing it from traveling too far. Making the city eerily silent, even here, despite his clanking boots, despite his horde preparing the next stage of the attack.
That cowardly wizard refused to show himself after all. Let his own city get razed to the ground rather than face defeat.
Gordack snickered.
Such behavior fit his own four-legged kindred.
The Soul Magus would soon have more than enough fresh corpses, lightling and darkling, to build the undead platoons needed for the next conquest.
And Gordack's own experiment, successfully planted, successfully kept secret, now reserved as backup for later, for when the Dreaded Ones inevitable began to turn on each other.
But first, for complete victory, two vital targets must be eliminated. The wizard and his boy. Unfortunately, the boy might be needed as a hostage first to draw out the Earth Wizard so with the Soul Magus’ help, a trap had to be set. Several traps because prey rarely fell to lazy hunters.
His two wolf guards, listening to their rhythmic predictable step a few feet behind him to his sides, clearly only understand the hunter’s perspective. Prey knew it needed to be unpredictable. Same for the orange tigress guard marching in a half-ready crouch, claws out and ready for battle, yet keeping the same few feet in front of him to his right.
Her eyes and head movement the same pattern.
Any ratling with a dozen years on his shoulder could slaughter this bunch of arrogant beasts.
When the tigress snapped her head up, Gordack watched her carefully. The smell of bitter fear coming off her confirmed his suspicion. The gasps of his wolf guards just proved they were as stupid as her.
Her death shriek cut off as she crumbled into ash.
The wolves growled. Claws definitely out. As if some enemy had attacked here.
Gordack chuckled.
The boy had taken the bait.
The tigress unaware of her bound to the vandread now died from losing it. Her soul torn from her, shredding her body to ash, and consumed by her lost slave. The other darklings as well. Punishment for their utter failure to eliminate the target in time.
The stupid cats thought the vandread belonged to Gordack. Due to a memory hex the Soul Magus implanted in their minds. Compelling them to give the vandread a standing order to obey and serve Gordack loyally as her master and perpetuate the apparent deception.
Then erased any memory of it from the cats' mind.
Serve the Ivy Reap right for her betrayal … but her vixen purren …her presence still considered him.
The vandread played along quite well. Her acting skills and flare for the dramatic … horribly impractical for real combat yet amazing useful in the most unexpected ways. Her passion for it too. One of the few darklings who thought beyond bloodshed and death.
And one that had a real future.
Not to mention that strange sweet smell of hers. That clean lush appearance that made his mouth water for roasted human girl. Losing such a unique vandread and letting the enemy obtain her …
No.
If sacrificing that darkling was the only reliable way to eliminate the boy and wizard, then the price was worth it. Nothing else would better guarantee a total victory than their deaths. A vandread couldn’t be the prophesized darkling to transcend the darkness anyway.
Whatever transcending the darkness meant.
It was the boy that the doomseers claimed would one day pose the greatest threat.
Doomseers who had to watch their brethren die painfully before they spoke remotely clearly.
That seer in that human temple … a prize definitely worthy claiming and protecting soon.
Maybe breeding with too.
And with enough coin, a few clear threats, and those so-called priestesses would sell the seer to him.
No need to waste time and soldiers crushing them.
This inter-shade trade, as the Duke BloodTalon called it, might have some benefits, after all.
But nothing the stupid lycan would understand. His stupid wolf guards kept sniffing the air. As if they didn’t notice Gordack’s own calm and collected scent. One decent sniff with their broken short too human noses would tell them her death was expected.
A good sign, in fact.
The dark-skinned human of decent fighting prowess should be close. One of the last defenders of the city. The man was definitely a Champion. Probably the only one who hadn’t run up north to die by the hands of Gordack’s mentor at Storm Killer.
And if left alive might delay the invasion too long for the Soul Magus’ great hex over the city to activate properly.
Once Gordack dealt with the Champion, victory would soon be complete.
And the Champion’s red-haired girl would serve as a great roasted feast to celebration the first and most critical victory of the War of Light.
Her and that yellow-skinned girl dressed like the Champion.
A tasty exotic reward for sending that other white fox lycan, one uncovered by careful questioning, after the yellow-skinned one …
* * *
His chuckle was so intense that Gordack almost missed the dark-skinned Champion dash across the next intersection.
Only a few dozen feet away.
The soft echoes of the Champion’s boot were already getting consumed by the Soul Magus’ sound-killing hex. The puny stone buildings were barely able to echo a single sound anymore. The oil in the lampposts would die in another hour too. Leaving the city in the dim light of the full moon.
Putting the remaining humans at an even greater disadvantage.
Including the Champion.
But Gordack needed the Champion dead as soon as possible. With the grand hex the Soul Magus was finalizing, any delay could spell disaster for all life for miles around.
So Gordack sucked in a giant breath.
When his red-haired prey swaggering to the intersection moments afterwards. Then her awkward speed tripping her. The girl squeaking. Landing with an awkward thump.
Her sword flying a vertical arch toward Gordack.
Landing far closer to Gordack than the human girl.
The Darkest Gods were truly with him and his hordes tonight.
His shrill bellow caught the attention of the red headed prey. Her gasp and gawk paralyzing her as planned.
His sprint carrying him quick to seize his prize.
Quicker than his whimpering wolf guards could match.
The red headed girl gasped again as he closed in.
Jumped away.
Like a little helpless bunny jumped away the grizzly bear looming inches above it.
His claws seized her. Crushing her and her limbs tight enough to fracture. Her scream. The cracks.
Yet she snarled at him. The alcohol on her breath stung Gordack’s eyes back enough to require a blink or two.
“Ash!” she hissed, “What did you do to Ash?!”
That perked his ears up as much as her tasty scent lifted his nose.
Prey that had valuable information and value as a hostage.
“Ash La Pushka …” Gordack said. Letting the drooling from tasting her roasted body in the future drip out a bit. “Yes. That target …”
And chuckled knowingly.
Her eyes bulged as if he had plucked out one of her teeth.
If only she could hear all the screams and cries of her kind dying too.
“He’s not … noooo!” the girl wailed.
Bait for another trap, no, a better double trap now unfolding right before his eyes.
And exactly what he had hoped for. More than he dared wish for.
The Darkest Gods truly were look down on him tonight.