Page 60 of The Gilded Ones

“Yes, sir,” I rasp, my tongue slurred by tiredness. My body is getting heavier and heavier, my eyes struggle to remain open.

It doesn’t matter, however, because the deathshrieks are here, their towering silhouettes moving silently in the darkness. There are at least thirty of them – more than I’ve ever seen before in my life, the heightened senses of the deep combat state allowing me to see their heartbeats flashing furious white against the silvery glow of their skin. When they see the bodies of their friends, they begin to shriek again, the sound both anguished and angry as it drills into my ears. But it doesn’t get worse, none of the red-hot agony that used to sear my brain.

The shrieks reach a fever pitch when the largest deathshriek, a silvery monstrosity with white, quill-like projections all down its back, steps forward. It looks almost like Rattle, its quills clattering as it motions to the other deathshrieks. But Rattle is much less frightening than this hulking, commanding monster that makes the other deathshrieks begin circling, their movements slow and deliberate. I watch it through eyes so weighted, it feels as if I’m fighting past water just to keep them open.

Once they’ve completely surrounded us, the silver deathshriek turns to us, eyes gleaming with hate, and makes a deliberate slicing motion across its throat. The deathshrieks grunt low, rumbling noises in their throats, their message clear: they mean to kill us slowly and painfully.

“Oyomo’s beard, did you see that?” Kweku rasps. “Did you see what it just did?”

“They’re gonna kill us,” Britta whispers, terrified. “They’re gonna kill us all.”

So much terror vibrates through her voice, it pierces the wave of exhaustion crushing me. There are too many deathshrieks about to hope for a victory if we have to use our swords. I have to do something, have to try. I inhale, struggling to sink deeper into the combat state, struggling to shake off the tentacles of fatigue now squeezing even tighter around me.

“Can you control them, Deka?” Captain Kelechi whispers.

I swallow, my tongue heavy with fear and exhaustion. “I can try.”

Captain Kelechi’s hands tighten on his sword. “Don’t try – do.”

I nod, closing my eyes and allowing myself to fall even deeper into the dark ocean of my subconscious. That voice is whispering there as always, a mixture of my own thoughts and the power swirling inside me. I reach out to it, reach out to the golden door that it offers me, and almost immediately, I feel it, power surging through my veins.

I smile, allowing it to fill me up. Allowing it to give me strength. I won’t let my friends die – not here, not now.

“Stop moving!” I command, power vibrating from my body. “Remain perfectly still.”

Surprise fills me as the deathshrieks’ heartbeats dim, silver throbbing to a dull grey. Their eyes glaze over and they all freeze in place, no longer able to move. Silence fills the jungle as the others look at me, awed.

“Oyomo’s tears!” one recruit gasps.

It’s enough to rouse Captain Kelechi from his daze. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up and end them!”

The words snap everyone into action. They begin attacking the motionless deathshrieks, who just remain there, eyes blinking frantically as they’re beheaded one by one. A dark, suffocating feeling surges inside me. This seems wrong, so very, very wrong. The deathshrieks are completely defenceless, none of them so much as twitching a finger as they’re cut down – massacred. I sag to the ground, no longer able to support my own body, watching as rivers of deathshriek blood soak the ground.

Repulsion comes over me as the pile of headless bodies quickly grows into a small mountain. By the time the moon disappears over the hill, the odour completely stains the air, shudders of nausea rising inside me every time I take a whiff.

Finally, it’s over, and the other bloodsisters and even their uruni are hugging and kissing me joyfully as I lie there on the ground, my body completely immobile.

“Ye did it, ye did it!” Britta crows.

“Oyomo’s breath, Deka, you saved us,” says Belcalis. Then her brows gather. “Deka, your eyes…”

“I know,” I rasp, the easiest words I can manage, given the circumstances, the darkness rising up to claim me.

As I finally allow myself to succumb to it, I notice something I didn’t before. A little brown girl, about eleven or so, white shift fluttering as she runs away from us deeper into the forest.

“A girl…” I say.

Then everything goes black.

When I wake, it’s early morning, and we’re camped outside the deathshrieks’ now-abandoned nest. Part of the work of the raid is checking the nest to ensure that none of the creatures has managed to hide away, which is why we’re always expected to make our encampments next to the nests if we’re on an overnight raid. Like everything surrounding deathshrieks, the ground here is cold and damp, and I shiver against the temperature when my eyes blink open.

“Yer awake!” Britta gasps as I sit up. She’s kneeling beside me, her eyes droopy and tired. She has no doubt been awake all night like the others, scouring the area for any remaining deathshrieks.

“I am,” I rasp, glancing around.

The smell of deathshriek blood assaults my nostrils. I gag, shuddering when I see the corpses piled nearby. The recruits surround them, Acalan and Kweku bent over the silver-quilled one, brows furrowed with concentration. Then I see their knives – moving…

“What are they doing?” I ask Britta, horrified.

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