Page 92 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
The rest of his brethren cackle like goddamn hyenas over the jest. I take a small moment to appreciate Balthazar’s grasp of various languages before I answer his insult by cleaving him from shoulder to chest. His body drops to the ground like a useless sack. Nothing fills the air other than the gurgling sound from the fallen orc as blood abandons his veins.
The rest hold no grief for their comrade.
“A nightwalker, huh? You don’t scare us, vampire.” The orc leader laughs, the sound cold and hollow. “We have encountered many of your kind in the past. They all beg for mercy before the sun.”
His underlings prowl closer to me, embolden by his words.
“All we have to do is prolong this fight to dawn and you’re finished,” the leader smirks, wholly confident.
“And once we’re done with you, we’ll pay your little wife a visit. By your wife, I mean her cunt,” he makes a vulgar gesture with his long blade.
Rage colors my vision red. This turmoil is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. The beasts crawl underneath my skin, begging to be unleashed. After weeks of suppressing my hunger, I allow them free rein over me tonight.
The orcs charge to me all at once.
I have no army to offer Rhianelle Wiolant. No weapons. No wealth.
But this I can do.
I rip the orcs from tendons to bones, plucking their heads one by one, crushing their skulls. The night bears witness to the violence I inflicted on her enemy. I recall the Grimsbane’s collection of heads as proof of kill. It’s a shame I can’t haul hundreds of them with me. A dark, vengeful smile crooks my mouth the moment I recall a game Han and I used to play.
That could work.
I spear a dead orc’s dismembered parts and launch it straight into the sky. If my long-ranged aim is correct, it should arrive right in front of the city wall. I continue cutting them down like blades of grass and tossing them into the sky.
Whenever I recall how the light was extinguished in Rhianelle’s eyes tonight, my anger is reborn. And wherever I walk, blood rains the earth.
All that is left now is the leader and his two guards. The proud male backs several steps from me, fear gripping his features. “What do you want from us?”
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Their fate was signed when they hurt her.
The effects of the drug they took must have worn off, because what stands before me are trembling cowards. All three crumple to the ground beneath my claws. The world will be a better place without them.
But no matter how many I slaughter, this rage will not fade. I wipe their defiled blood coating my skin, turning my attention towards the two cowering chimera. They’re strapped to the orc’s chariot, completely at my mercy. I’m not nearly depraved enough to kill some helpless animals. I sever their leash with a single swipe of my claw.
The vicious beasts bolt as soon as they are freed, heading towards a distant structure. I narrow my eyes in the direction. That fortress has to be their hiding place.
Well, why stop at this silly little party?
The granite and basalt stones line the wall that seems to have lasted centuries. I stand before the colossal gates, marveling at the intricate details carved on the steel plate. Knocking is the polite thing to do, but I am not in the business of being civil. Not tonight.
I leap to the sky and circle the keep like a bird of prey, searching for the most dense area to strike. Bells ring from every tower, announcing my arrival as I slowly land in the courtyard. I abandon any attempt at stealth, letting my leathery wings beat loudly against the wind. My enemies should know the wrath and hellfire I will bring upon them.
I can end this right here and now. Rhianelle wouldn’t have to go into those silly meeting every morning.
“Who is in charge?” I ask the panicking orcs. “Answer, and I may spare some of you.”
Orkavan, Myrkheim’s mother tongue, flows smoothly from my mouth, courtesy of Balthazar’s amulet. The language feels slightly formal and a little strange. It’s probably because I’ve never had anyone to practice it with.
Instead of a reply, an onslaught of orcs barrels towards me. Their battle cry is a chant summoning the worst of my demons. Those who try to raise their weapon against me become nothing but a lump of muscles and bones. I’ve entered a killing frenzy, and it’s impossible to stop. The shouting and screeches soon cease one by one.
This bloodfest grows tedious by the minute. I crouch over one of my remaining enemies, one who is still sane and not affected so much by the drugs. “Where do you keep your prisoners? Tell me and I promise you a quick death.”
The scrawny orc points to his left to a doorway. The scent of fear in his blood is nauseating. I leave the coward untouched and venture down the steep stairs.
There is barely any light illuminating the underground prison. Darkness never bothered me. If anything, the shadows are a playground for my monsters to play. The stench of stale sweat, filth, and urine permeates the air, and I curse my heightened senses.
