Page 65 of Humans Don't Have Horns
"Shield wall!" I bark as a larger group surges forward. Nehol’s division locks together, their shields creating a wall of steel. The demichads crash against it like a wave against rocks. "Now!" The second line steps through the gaps, their weapons finding vulnerable flesh in the chaos.
A demichad's claws barely miss my face—too close. I duck and spin, my left ax separating its head from its shoulders. The body falls, but three more are already coming. One ax finds its mark as I headbutt another. Yeah, not my brightest moment. These things are foul beyond description, and now my face is covered with demichad blood and something slimy. And earthworms. They're full of fucking earthworms. I choke back bile as the third demichad tackles me into the mud.
I hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from my lungs. I grab the demichad's jaw, which is wide open, while it attempts toclose on me, muscles straining against inhuman strength. With a roar that's equal parts rage and disgust, I flip it and start hammering my fists into its face. I have no idea where my axes are, so I just hammer my fist into its face repeatedly.
Around me, my warriors fight in pairs, as we practiced—the only way to survive against the demichads’ numbers and speed. The sounds of battle fill the air: demichads’ screams, the meaty thunk of axes finding flesh, the squelch of boots in mud, and the constant roar of the salt water through the pipes. And too soon for my liking, it is accompanied by the cries of my wounded warriors.
"Hold the line!" I shout, seeing a group of younger warriors starting to falter. "Remember your training! Move as one!" They rally, finding their rhythm again, working together to bring down a particularly large demichad.
I rise from the ground and, with what can only be the help of the stars, locate one of my axes in the mud. I’m bleeding already, but the power of my people is strong in me, and I kill and kill with no pause.
The eclipse chokes the sky, swallowing the light. Shadows stretch like fingers, obscuring allies and enemies alike. Even Niska is out of my sight, and I keep searching. The stench of blood and decay grows thicker in the darkness, pressing down like a physical weight. The temperature plummets further, our breath coming in visible puffs in the unnatural cold.
Through the chaos, I glimpse Bahar fighting two demichads at once. Without our blood gift, we'd never stand a chance against their strength. His movements are poetry written in violence, but I can't spare the time to admire his grace as he takes them both down. Across the field, Kala ducks under razor claws before burying her ax in a demichad’s neck.
"Wedge formation!" I call out as I spot a mass of demichads gathering for a charge. My warriors respond instantly, forming a triangle with me at the vertex. We drive forward like a spear, splitting the demichad force in two.
I keep fighting, though the ax handle grows slick with blood and worse things. Every muscle screams for rest, each breath burns in mychest, But I won't stop. I can't stop. Not while my people depend on me. Not while Lian is counting on me.
A young warrior, barely more than a boy, stumbles nearby. I grab his collar, yanking him back just as demichad claws slash through the space where his throat had been. "Stay with your partner!" I remind him, shoving him toward his fighting companion. They fall back into sync, protecting each other's blind spots. I’m going to kill fucking Nehol, that is if I don’t die soon. He’s turned me into a damn babysitter with his incompetence.
As I take down an especially large demichad, I finally spot Niska, surrounded by four demichads coming at her at once. I surge toward her, but white-hot pain explodes across my back as teeth tear into muscle. I manage to plant my ax in the creature's skull, but the wound is bad. My vision swims as I reach Niska, just as a demichad pins her to the mud. My ax splits its head open like rotten fruit.
She looks up at me, barely recognizable under the gore and writhing worms. And for the first time since I met her, her eyes are full of fear. Before I can order her up and get a grip, another demichad slams into me from behind. I hit the ground hard, and burning agony floods my gut as its claws sink deep. I hear the scrape of talons against bone, though it seems to come from far away. A scream tears from my throat as the monster's face fills my vision. Fuck. That thing has a lot of teeth.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lian
No, no, no. This can’t be happening. All my nightmares are coming to life as I witness the demichads managing to climb out of the canyon.
Daton and the warriors have been down at the canyon for hours now. It’s hard to know how many exactly with the prolonged eclipse. It’s as if the sun and the moon themselves stopped their course to watch the battle. Yet Sun and the Goddess only observe. They do not intervene. And neither does Amada.
As people take notice of the demichads, sheer terror permeates among the Mongans and Puresouls alike. For the first time since the battle started, I can’t hear the sounds of the fighting in the canyon, since shouts and cries up here overwhelm them. The Aldonian archers shoot arrows for the first time since they arrived. But that seems only to make the Mongans even more frenzied, and they run away from the Aldonians’ range in panic. I see my brother shout orders to the archers on his horse. But I can’t hear what he says, since he is far behind them. I can’t hear if he orders them to aim only at the demichads or to aim at the Mongans as well.
Dahav is suddenly at my side on her horse, her face visible. Nass and his son, Shemesh, are on their horses behind her. “What are your orders?” she asks in a level voice. There is an earnestness in herappearance but no apprehension, and my heart fills with reverence toward her once again.
“Save the children,” I order, but it comes out more like a plea. She nods to me and rides away with her entourage toward the Mongans. Her yellow hair blows like a golden halo in the wind that her fast riding creates. She bends over her horse and grabs a Mongan child standing crying in the commotion. Her men follow her example and help children and their parents to their horses.
The Kozaries aren’t trained to fight a threat like this. The Aldonians made sure no one but them could protect themselves. They failed only with the Mongans. But as I watch Kozaries risking their lives to help Mongans, I can’t help but feel in awe of the mark on history taking place. Puresouls have never risked themselves for Mongans, and ever since the War of Light, they have never helped them, even if there was no cost to it. The Kozaries especially helped none but of their own people.
The Aldonians’ arrows hit many of the demichads emerging from the canyon but not all of them. But even some of those hit by the arrows just keep on running without pause, barely affected.
I glance at the infirmary the Renyans set up, where injured Mongans lie. The Mongans tasked with evacuating the wounded have been busy, and the infirmary’s cots seem fully occupied. My eyes search for Daton for the hundredth time, but he is nowhere to be seen. I curse Amada with the foulest curses I can think of for sending us here, for punishing me by hiding herself and her powers from me. I stand here helpless as the world comes to an end.
Emek is close to me, shouting orders to the people to flee for safety, but she herself will not leave. She made Shana leave with Kon. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget Shana’s beautiful face twisted with mortification and horror as she grabbed the baby and started running in the opposite direction of where his mother and father were fighting for their and all our lives.
A few demichads run directly toward Emek and her helpers. I strengthen the hold of the axes Daton gifted me and run straight to them. Better to die fighting than to stand and watch the people I lovekilled as the result of my own shortcomings. I run and hurl my ax to the closest demichad with all my strength, as Daton taught me. It falls to its knees, and I behead it with the other ax. Two other demichads turn toward me, their little eyes set on me.
I don’t think. There is no time to think. I strike with everything I have. I strike with all the wrath and despair at the mere idea that Daton may be dead. I aim for the demichad’s heart, which I can see clearly for the lack of skin. Then I shove my boot into its body to pull the axes out of its flesh. I strike the third one, but its claws meet my left arm before it drops to the ground, and blood gushes out of the fresh wounds. I am not a Mongan. The wounds are deep and will take a long time to heal. If I get the chance to heal.
I look for Emek and see her lying on the ground. A demichad with three arrows in its back looms above her. I drop one of my axes, not able to hold anything with my left arm now. I run toward the demichad, and with an overhand strike, I crack its skull. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” I ask Emek.
Her eyes are wide with wonder as she looks at me, and instead of answering me, she gasps, “He taught you how to fight like one of his Mongan warriors.”
Maybe that’s like me teaching him Renyan healing. Another taboo that we crossed. Only, he can never claim to be innocent. He always knew the laws. He knows them better than anyone.
I was a fool to push him away for so long. I never in my life felt as loved and cherished as I did last night. And it wasn’t only lust, even though there was more of that than I could ever imagine possible. It was love. Pure love from the purest soul I’ve ever met. Not the blood he has shed nor the blood he has bled could ever contaminate his soul. Not to me.
