Book 3, Chapter 78 - The Unkindness of Ravens (1/2)

The chief was dead!

Murdered! Butchered!

Coal felt like his head would explode. Rage, hopelessness, hatred, sorrow. Each one was like a cold knife to his heart, a searing fire in his mind.

The mutant screamed, a sound more terrible than any wasteland monster. He heaved against his bindings, snapping enough to free one of his arms. Coal whipped it around like a mace, and nearly ten soldiers died from the bludgeoning before they knew what happened.

Clang!

A sword swept by to catch his arm as it passed for another swing. Drake was so fast that he appeared in front of Coal from nowhere, like he just blinked into existence. He positioned his sword in the crux of the beast’s arm to stop him from causing any more casualties.

He offered a vicious hack toward Coal. “If you want it to end then tell us what you know!”

Soldiers swarmed in and tied the mutant back up without needing to be directed.

“Ahh! Rrraagggh! Nnnrrrgghh!”

All Coal could do was yell at his powerlessness. Even with the power of fear feeding his muscles, all he could do was stare daggers at these hateful, evil men.

With a cold laugh, Brontes raised his hand. Soldiers forced a group of ten more tribesmen to their knees before him.

The vanguard leader faced Coal. “I’ll ask again. Where is the city hidden?”

Coal only screamed back at him. Brontes did not waste his breath. The giant was forced to watch as ten more of his brothers and sisters were cut down in cold blood.

Ten more were brought forward.

“Where is the city?”

Hate and resentment bubbled up inside Coal, forming into words. “Don’t kill!”

A blade flashed. Heads toppled.

Ten more.

This time it was children. They shivered and cried as they were forced to their knees.

Brontes raised his voice for the third time, calm and dispassionate as though he was weeding a garden. “Where is the city?”

Coal’s will crumbled. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stand to watch them murder his tribesmen. In a voice thick with humiliation and disgrace, he said, “Don’t kill… I say.”

Brontes swung his arm. Ten smaller heads went rolling through the chasm. [1]

Coal’s pained well rang off the stone. He didn’t understand. He agreed! He said he would answer! Why would this demon continue to slaughter innocent people?

Brontes answered as though reading his mind. “To remind you not to make me ask three times. Now you’ve got one chance. If you try anything, everyone here will die – because of you. And they will die painfully.”

Drake just chuckled wryly at the scene. “You certainly have a way about you, Brontes.”

Hammont also admired the steadfast officer.

Coal could only remember their faces. He took in every single detail, burned them into his memory.

He made himself a promise that if he survived, he would break every bone in their body with his own hands, inch by inch. He would use his own fists to punch them flat. He would make them pay for the murder of the chief. He wouldn’t die until he made every one of them regret the evil they committed!

But even though his heart was an inferno of hatred, there was nothing Coal could do. He would be their puppet, forced to lead the way. The two hundred remaining natives were tied up and kept under guard, while Coal – bound hand and foot – was surrounded in what seemed like a sea of elysian warriors. He was given only enough slack to walk, not enough to run if a chance to flee presented itself.

The chief’s words rang in his ears. He’d heard them, he understood, but he had no choice. He couldn’t stand to watch his family be murdered.

If he didn’t promise to bring these monsters to the city, he would have had to watch as they were cut down batch after batch. It was beyond torture. There was no question in his mind that these men had nothing but evil intentions, but it was too much. There was hope, at least he thought. He didn’t know how strong the elysian force was, but secretly he thought those who lived in the city under the mountain could destroy these devils.

A mysterious group was lurking in the nearby crags. Not a large force – several hundred only – and they wore uniforms of absolute black. Only the two men in front were different.

One was a masked man hidden beneath the Wraithrobe, with a sword on his back and a strip of cloth covering his face. The other wore a long trench coat and his close-cropped hair was uncovered. He was an unassuming man, but for the scars that ran down his eyes.

“It seems they found a guide to the Dark Atom headquarters. It looks like those Seekers are finally going to meet their doom.”

“The Dark Atom has deep roots. Skycloud can’t destroy them so easily. But for the time being they will keep the elysians’ attention. That will make what we have to do easier.”

Adder’s eyes glimmered in the harsh light. Whatever he was thinking, the depths of those snake-like eyes were impossible to read.

A short time later the several hundred shadows were on the move. They came down from the mountains silent as the night. Obviously, though small in number, they were not to be underestimated.

***

Cloudhawk was lying on the examination table and medical instruments and strange devices whirred around him. A dozen or so scientists busily poured over the results and manipulated the machines.