Page 12 of Humans Don't Have Horns
“What woman?” he asks, puzzled.
“The one who wanted you to force me.”
He grimaces at my words, at the mention of the reason he smuggled me away. “Minera, our oracle. She’s been the oracle since they changed the laws, declaring us as betrayers of Sun and taking away every basic right we had. They came to the village where she lived and made everyone swear allegiance to Sun and abandon the Goddess. She told everyone not to do it, that the Goddess would protect us if we stayed loyal to her. She was the oracle, so if she had sworn to Sun, everyone would have abandoned the Goddess. Minera had seven sons. The Aldonians gathered them and told her to swear to Sun or they’d kill them. She refused. So they killed her eldest. But she still wouldn’t do it. So they killed the next son and the next until they’d killed them all.”
We’re quiet then for a long time. I think of Minera’s choice. It’s not my place to judge her, yet I can’t understand it. Shouldn’t life be more sacred than any god? “My mother worshiped the Goddess. But it was a secret,” I tell him.
“Sounds like a typical Renyan. They swore to the Sun and kept worshiping the Goddess in secret. They can’t say a word of truth even if they try,” he says, his voice dripping with contempt. “Why do you hate Renyans so much? They don’t rule Amada. The True Religion was forced on them as well.”
His fingers shift the beads of his prayer beads deftly. His jaws clench. “It’s not for me to educate you of your mother’s people. When you get to Renya, you decide for yourself,” he grunts finally.
“My mother was good. I know my father is a tyrant. Although, I never suspected any of the horrors you told me. But I know my mother was good.”
“Good to whom?” He lets the question hang in the air.
***
The scenery changes slowly as we walk the next day. Oak trees replace pine trees. The sun is high, and we run out of water. He nevercomments on it, but I can tell I’m slowing him down. I’m not used to walking for hours of the day and sleeping on the ground at night.
In my daily life, I was pampered as much as restricted. I visited the chapel each day, a five-minute walk from my room. The rest of the day I spent in my chambers. I ate there, bathed there, and was tutored there. Only on the holy days would I get to roam other parts of the palace. And once a year I would be out in Modos, the capital of Aldon, for the celebrations of the birth of Sun. So it is no surprise that my body is embarrassingly languid.That my feet are bleeding in my shoes from overuse. That pain spreads through my limbs. Daton’s back is my enduring view. Broad shoulders and rippling muscles at every move. A manifestation of strength. So very much the opposite of my current state.At least it’s a nice view, I guess.
I did not just think that! What is wrong with me?
Daton leaves me to find fresh water and orders me to stay put until he returns. I wait and wait until I spot an apple tree a few feet away. I try to pick the ones that are untouched by animals and insects.
I get so lost in my efforts that I only hear the soldiers once they speak.
Chapter Seven
Lian
“What do we have here?” the first soldier says. I cringe at his leering tone, and all the red apples drop to the ground. There are four of them. They all look unkempt, sweaty, and dirty. Very unlike the Aldonian soldiers I’ve seen in the past in Modos or at the wedding camp.
“Why, I swear it is the princess herself,” says a second soldier, happy as a raccoon that just found an egg nest.
“Can’t be. The princess would have been dead by now,” answers the first soldier. I can smell the alcohol on him from where I stand.
“But who else has white hair and eyes? No. It must be the princess,” insists the second soldier. “Is it you, Princess?” he slurs drunkenly, and not waiting for my answer, he continues, “Time to go back home, Your Majesty.”
The third soldier speaks with venom while toying with a knife, “She doesn’t look so majestic to me, covered with all that Cursed One’s shit. Fucking whore more like it.”
The first and second soldiers look at him and then at me as if seeing me for the first time. And Daton’s story of Baghiva suddenly crashes into my mind. Only I’m not a Cursed One, and I can straighten these men out if I can just stop this mutism that’s comeover me. Can’t I? But I can feel hands all over me, inside me and I can’t utter a word or move a muscle. It’s as if I’m back in the tent the night before my wedding.
Suddenly, the fourth soldier lets out a scream at a surprisingly high pitch, and we all look at him. A sword protrudes from his gut.
Daton stands tall behind him, the promise of death in his obsidian-black eyes. The third soldier tries to stab him, and he easily avoids his knife, grabs him by the back of his neck, and pulls his head until the sound of his spine breaking is loud for all of us to hear. The speed and ease with which Daton kills them are unnatural. It is as if he was born to kill. He was once a farmer, I tell myself. Yet I can’t even imagine him doing anything but killing.
The first soldier decides that the best approach is putting a knife to my throat. “Move, and she’s dead,” he says, and the pain hits me as the blade nicks my skin. The soldier stinks of alcohol and sweat, and I curse myself again for my helplessness. Daton stands still and raises his hands in submission, and I’m stunned by the gesture. Again, I fail to understand why he keeps saving my life, time after time.
The first soldier shouts to the second, “Tie him down. Quick!”
But the second looks frantically between Daton and the first soldier and says, “You fucking tie him,” while raising his knife higher. The first gets pissed off at that and starts yelling at the second about what a useless piece of shit he is. This argument is a deadly mistake because they lose focus on Daton. The first soldier’s words stop midsentence when Daton grabs his knife and sticks it in the soldier’s eye, all the way to the hilt. He then grabs the second soldier by the throat while taking his knife from his hand, as one would take candy from a baby.
With Daton’s hand on his throat, the second soldier manages to plead: “Please don’t kill me, please.”
Daton’s dark eyes light up with disturbing glee. “I love it when you fuckers beg.” Then he pulls the soldier’s windpipe with his bare hand out of his throat.
Daton drops the body and turns to look at me. “Did they hurt you?” His eyes move quickly over me from head to toe. I’m toostunned to speak. From the terror of the soldiers, from the brutal violence he has just inflicted on them. I can’t stop myself from retching on the spot, right there in front of him. When I’m done, Daton hands me a waterskin full of fresh water, and I splash some on my face. He carefully picks up the apples I dropped and hands them to me. The stupid damn apples. He looks at me, and there is no hate in his eyes for the first time since I met him.That’s because he pities you now instead.He doesn’t say, “You should have stayed put like I told you. You should have done something once they came instead of just standing there like a useless statue. This is all your fault.”
