Page 23 of The Taking of House Westwood

Valery heaved the suspended man onto the ground. The soldier groaned and rolled onto his side. Valery strode over to the kneeling captive in less time than it took to blink an eye. Laird looked up at him, firming his chin. He nodded, closing his eyes, tensing for the killing blow. Valery drew his hand back, the razor sharp nails extended.

“Marshal Valery!”

He turned toward the voice. Another tall man, dressed in the same long coat that Valery wore, rushed forward, flicking a glance down at the kneeling Laird.

Valery’s brow creased, and he dropped his hand. “Corporal Endek, what is it?” The corporal handed Valery a rolled length of tattered parchment.

Valery read, shaking his head slowly. He looked up at Endek, a dark brow quirked. “Did this come by runner?”

“Yes, Sir. Just arrived.”

“All the way from Druas?”

Endek nodded.

Valery cursed, smacking the parchment against his thigh. He turned and walked several paces away, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Sir,” Endek asked. “What are your orders?”

Valery was motionless for over a minute, the only sounds the faint groans of the soldiers, and the night wind whispering through the trees overhead. He turned back to the corporal, Valery’s eyes flashing a bright silver in the darkness. “If the runner came from Druas, he’s going to need to feed — and soon.”

“Yes, Sir. He can barely stand.”

Valery looked down at the bound soldiers, and gave a quick nod of his head. Corporal Endek stooped and grabbed the arm of one of the captives.

“Not that one, Corporal.” Valery glanced at the two figures still holding Laird. “I think Taidon there has plans for that one.”

One of the men holding Laird chuckled, a rapacious grin lighting his face.

“No!,” Laird yelled. “I told you what you wanted to know. Leave them alone!”

Valery, his silver eyes cold, pointed the parchment at the kneeling man. “I changed my mind, human.” He gave a quick twitch of his head to Endek, and the corporal plucked another soldier from the ground, carrying his struggling form off into the darkness.

“You fucking bastard! Monster!” Laird struggled anew, blood spraying from his lips, his eyes blazing with rage.

Valery was before him in an instant, the long fingers of both hands extended around Laird’s head. With a swift, brutal movement, he broke Laird’s neck, the sound like a muffled snap of a branch. Laird slumped over with a long, fading wheeze. The two figures holding him dropped his lifeless body to the ground. The other captive soldiers became frantic, yelling into their gags, eyes wide with terror. One of them actually managed to raise himself to his knees, before being struck back to the ground by a growling Taidon.

Valery nudged Laird’s corpse with his boot. “Adril. Take that back to the men before he cools. They’re going to need all they can get.”

Adril scooped up Laird’s body as if it was so much firewood, heading back toward the encampment.

Taidon knelt to hogtie the hands and legs of his own chosen captive, growling at him as he worked.

Valery glanced at the parchment again, breathing a curse. He strolled away from the captive men, and Taidon joined him at his side.

“You can’t resist the redheaded ones can you, Taidon?”

“We all have our vices, Sir.”

Valery frowned. “I don’t understand what you see in them. They’re our food.”

“Do you see your Rayja as food?” Taidon’s voice rumbled, the tone carefully neutral.

Valery raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Lieutenant Taidon.”

“Apologies, Marshal.”

The two walked in silence for a few moments, the moonlight dappling on their dark skin as the branches swayed overhead. A lost, pain-filled cry erupted in the distance, spiraling upward before being abruptly cut off.

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