Page 44 of The Gilded Ones

“Just keep watch,” I interrupt, rushing away.

The next cavern has been hollowed out into a makeshift stable, cages on either side. Lights flicker dimly in the sconces, illuminating the rushes on the floor, the chains binding each cell’s monstrous occupant. Deathshrieks become more aggressive when they’re in the same cage, so the karmokos separate them. There are about twenty here in total, the bulk of the deathshrieks at the Warthu Bera. About ten more are kept in the other caverns. My skin prickles faster, my heartbeat rises, as I approach them. The ones here aren’t gagged, so a single scream from them could end me.

But no, that’s not true. I remember how it was in Irfut, everyone’s ears bleeding when I alone could continue standing. It was the same thing when Katya died. I could hear the shrieks, feel their power, but I wasn’t affected by them the way the others were. I just have to concentrate on my breathing, keep my mind on the present the way Karmoko Huon taught me. I’ll be fine.

Taking a deep breath for strength, I walk down the centre of the caverns, aware of the gleam of predatory black eyes, the rustling of chains, as massive bodies stretch in the corners. The heavy, pungent aroma clouding the cavern strengthens, as does a lighter, sickeningly sweet smell I cannot identify. I ignore the low growls, the fear rising inside me, as I walk over to the largest cage, the central one. A subtle hissing starts between the cages as this one’s occupant slowly rises, distinctive, silvery quill-like projections on its back immediately recognizable from our first evening at the Warthu Bera. When it staggers forward, massive body shimmering in the dull light, my mouth goes dry.

Rattle, the alpha deathshriek of all the ones here.

The chieftain.

I look up at him, at those eyes gleaming with hatred towards me. “Go on – scream,” I whisper. “I want you to.”

Something has risen inside me, a dark and abrupt feeling I would almost call rage, except it’s riddled through with the razor’s edge of another emotion: grief. I think of Katya, think of those hateful claws ripping through her body, and I walk closer. Just out of reach of those claws. I’m aware now of the other deathshrieks stirring around me: velvety white leapers, their long-limbed arms allowing them to climb up their cages’ bars with ease; the massively tall, massively gaunt workers at the corners making chittering sounds. Karmoko Thandiwe taught us how to classify them all, how to understand their weaknesses, their strengths.

I ignore them, focus on Rattle.

I know, from the karmoko’s warnings, that he commands the other deathshrieks here. Deathshrieks are pack animals, always with a chieftain to direct them. They may lack human intelligence, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t smart.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” I ask him as he growls softly in the darkness.

He isn’t making any movements, isn’t reaching to attack me. It’s the same with the other deathshrieks, all of them chittering away as they watch. Why aren’t they attacking? Why aren’t they fighting me? It’s almost like they’re duller, slower somehow, than the ones that killed Katya – or even the ones back at Irfut. Their lack of fight prickles at me. Enrages me.

“What’s wrong with you?” I hiss, glaring at Rattle.

Suddenly, I don’t care that I’m so close to his cage he could reach out and gut me, don’t care that the matrons who attend to the deathshrieks could discover me down here and give me a beating for my insolence. All I can think of is Katya, that look in her eyes. The fear.

“Scream!” I rage. “Threaten me. DO SOMETHING.”

But he does nothing.

That clicking sound rises, he and the other deathshrieks clicking at each other, their voices building and building until—

“Deka!” Keita’s call comes as if from far away. “Deka, we have to go, the drums are sounding.”

I exhale. Glance down at the water bucket, not surprised to see that my eyes are still normal in the reflection. I don’t know why I was expecting otherwise.

I empty the bucket in a nearby trough, then inhale to compose myself. “Coming,” I finally call back, as I walk out of the cavern. The deathshrieks continue clicking after I’m gone.

I emerge to find Keita waiting for me in the connecting passageway, worry in his eyes. The very sight grates at me. I don’t know why he’s pretending to care.

“What happened?” he asks. “Are you all right? Did they shriek?”

I shake my head. “Nothing happened. And my eyes didn’t change – at least, I didn’t see them do so in my reflection.”

He nods, seeming to compose himself. “Well, that’s disappointing,” he murmurs.

We walk down the passage, each of us lost in our own thoughts, until something shifts in the shadows. It’s Gazal, standing at the entrance to the next cavern, the one Matron Nasra opened the floor to two months ago. It’s our classroom for battle strategy, the class where we learn how to conduct raids and how to fight effectively during the campaign.

“Neophyte Deka,” she says. “You will remain after the lesson. There is something Karmoko Thandiwe wishes to discuss with you.”

This announcement sends a cold sweat down my back. Does the karmoko want to ask me about what happened that night with Katya?

I force myself to exhale away the panicked thought as I nod respectfully to Gazal. “Thank you for informing me, Honoured Elder Bloodsister,” I murmur.

Satisfied, she walks into the main cavern, Keita and I following behind her. My muscles tense, senses on high alert, as I notice Karmoko Thandiwe standing at the centre, the other neophytes and their uruni already settling into the wooden desks before her. The lesson is about to begin.

Please don’t ask me about what happened with the deathshrieks, please don’t ask me about what happened with the deathshrieks, I desperately pray as Keita and I join the others.

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