Page 7 of Humans Don't Have Horns
“Where is the heretic?” one of the males asks in Mongan, He looks to be in his early twenties, with long black hair braided back into a plait. My kidnapper remains silent.
“You are no longer the warlord, Daton. You have disobeyed the Goddess and betrayed your people. Hand over the heretic and your death will be swifter than a traitor’s.” The other grim-faced Cursed Ones remain quiet as they observe the exchange.
“Is this how much you want the part of warlord, Niro? You reduce yourself to the ways of Aldon and Kozari?” The Butcher’s voice is full of rebuke.
Niro raises his chin defiantly. “I obey the wishes of the Goddess. It is the only way for a Mongan.” But he lacks conviction. Some of the other Cursed Ones look increasingly wary.
“You obey Minera’s orders,” my kidnapper, the one they call Daton, scoffs.
“Same thing,” Nero snaps.
“Is it? The Goddess would not have wished for a woman to be forced.”
“She is not a woman. She is a heretic,” one of the Cursed Ones’ females spits, flashing her teeth. “That is what they said of Baghiva” my kidnapper responds, sounding newly dejected. “Do not compare us to them,” roars another Mongan male.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Niro,” Daton replies, almost pleading.
“You will not hurt me, old man,” Niro laughs dismissively. He does look young, less than twenty years, maybe. My kidnapper looks to be in his thirties, not more. I’m almost certain Daton is also the Butcher, which makes Niro’s dismissing tone seem even more out of place.
My kidnapper doesn’t even flinch before he throws his axes to the ground. “If you want to get to her, you will have to kill me first.”
Niro dismounts his behema and throws his axes to the ground as well. “If it is death you seek, you have found it today,” he exclaims, throwing a quick punch at the Butcher’s face. Then another and another. Daton never tries to protect his face. He just stands there, absorbing the blows, as if he wants Niro to beat him to death. What in Sun’s name is he doing? He suddenly takes action with a swift kick to Niro’s leg, breaking Niro’s calf bone in half.
My hands fly to my mouth as I try to strangle the sound trying to escape me. Niro falls to the ground, screaming in pain as he clenches his leg, calf bone visible through flesh. Everyone looks horrified, especially my kidnapper.
A stocky Cursed One dismounts his behema and approaches Daton. “Now we have lost both our old and new warlords.”
My kidnapper falls to his knees, his head bent toward the ground. He’s won the fight, but appears completely defeated.
“You are the Emancipator. You have done great things for our people, Daton. But now you have chosen to cripple another Mongan in his attempt to follow the commands of the oracle. There is a reason the warlord submits to the oracle. Surrender your armor and axes. You can no longer be part of our people.”
“Bahar,” cries the female who spoke earlier, “we must bring him back to face trial.”
Bahar turns to face her. “The Emancipator? If not for him, I would have died a slave. This is a sad day as it is. Let us help Niro back to camp.” None of them argue with him further.
My kidnapper takes off his leather armor, picks up his axes from the dirt, and gives them to Bahar. He does all this with eyes fixed to the ground, in apparent lamenting submission. The Cursed Ones pick up an unconscious Niro and leave.
My kidnapper remains on his knees, his back hunched.
My eyes burn as the understanding of his sacrifice for my safety settles in. Why did he protect me? His actions puzzle me and I can’t help wonder who Baghiva was and what happened to her. I feel consumed with guilt. I climb out of my arboreal hiding spot. I tell myself the best way to reward him now would be to walk alone to Renya. To release him from the burden that I am. He doesn’t even notice I leave.
Chapter Five
Lian
OK, maybe deciding to walk alone to Renya was an act of panic with no real thought behind it.
I’ve been walking for hours, and the day is coming to an end. The swamps look scary enough in full daylight. With the constant fog, the dead and haunted-looking trees, and the smell of sulfur, it’s no wonder the Cursed Ones have chosen the swamps as their home. No one would dare hunt them here.
My kidnapper’s stricken expression haunts me. His name is Daton, I tell myself. He deserves at least to have a name in my thoughts.
I’m not acquainted with the Cursed Ones’ ways, but even a Puresoul like me can understand that beating Niro in that fight came with a terrible price—exile. A price Daton paid to save me. It is a decision I have a hard time fully understanding given his behavior toward me. All those long days on the behema, not even untying me to let me relieve myself. I’ve seen him kill Puresoul men with my own eyes, and I don’t think he has any problem hurting Puresoul women. Some were murdered just outside my wedding tent. If he is the Butcher, he’s killed hundreds of women. Children too, probably. Aldonian women are not trained to fight in any way, and facing a threat like this, theyare as helpless as children. He’s already told Minera he was willing to kill me, so why smuggle me out of the swamps? Why not just be done with it? Do the Cursed Ones really drink Puresouls’ blood? They seem cruel, but not monstrous. They’re the human type of cruel. And Sun knows humans can be evil.
The memories flooding me over the past few days have me thinking of my mother. But these glimpses into the past won’t fully come into focus. Toying with me like kids in a game of hide and seek I have no interest in playing. I can hear them laughing at me.
What’s evident is that my mother taught me things that deviated largely from the True Religion’s lessons. This knowledge is enough to make me doubt everything I know of the Cursed Ones. Mongans, as they call themselves.
Maybe I should have stayed with Daton and helped him. But what could I possibly offer? I will find my way to Renya. My aunt, the Queen, will aid me. I can get there by myself. Courage. I must find the courage.
