Page 108 of Fractured Souls

“Well, he saved our asses, didn’t he? We’re up against demons, Murkot. We gotta take any advantage we can get. The General knows that. That’s why he did the transformation in the first place.”

They were almost level with Nythian now. He waited silently, his senses stretched taut. Now he could hear their footfalls, the rustle of their armor, the clink of weapons, the harsh sound of their breathing.

If they were soldiers, they would have been from the very lowest ranks. They were clumsy and indisciplined. He could tell from the way they moved.

“Yeah, we escaped all right,” Murkot muttered under his breath, “but we didn’t get that brown-skinned human bitch. He isn’t going to accept it. We’re walking dead men, Rurak.”

“Shut up, idiot. You know we’re not allowed to speak of him.”

The Qualum doors unravelled and Nythian stepped in front of them.

The Kordolians froze, their eyes going wide as they stared up at Nythian.

He was fully armored; they couldn’t see anything of him but his obsidian outer shell, but they knew what he was.

“Fuck,” the one called Murkot whispered, raising his plasma gun with a trembling hand. “How did he get in here?”

Murkot was a lean, weathered Kordolian who looked older than he sounded. His left eye was milky and sightless—probably an old battle injury of some sort—and his ears were adorned with an odd collection of crusty piercings, a pale imitation of the gaudy jewels made fashionable by the nobility.

Time slowed. The world around him seemed to move in slow motion. He saw the almost imperceptible tightening of Murkot’s trigger finger, saw the tip of the gun move ever so slightly to his left, aiming for his heart.

Now, now. That wouldn’t do.

Nythian flicked up the point of his sword and reversed it, impaling Murkot’s wrist.

The Kordolian screamed and dropped his gun.

Rurak didn’t even attempt to try and defend his comrade. He was paralyzed with fear, rooted to the floor, trembling slightly.

“Which human were you referring to when you used that word, hmm?” Nythian leaned in, twisting his sword ever so slightly. Black blood gushed down the sleeve of Murkot’s light armor. He could very easily sever the bastard’s hand, but he didn’t want him to bleed out and die on him… yet.

“I... I was just…”

“Don’t be shy. Tell me now,” Nythian said mildly, his tone at odds with the anger that writhed beneath his controlled surface. He already had an idea who they might be talking about.

That these lowly creatures would dare insult his mate like that…

Murkot’s eyes bulged.

Nythian’s hand shot out. He grabbed the Kordolian’s neck, allowing his claws to sink in a little.

Rurak tensed, as if he were about to reach for a weapon.

“Don’t,” Nythian said sharply. “I will kill you if you try anything stupid. Now tell me what you meant by that. Just who exactly are you calling a bitch?” He squeezed a little, cutting off the blood supply to Murkot’s brain. There was a certain point where the lack of oxygen would loosen the tongue, right about…

“The human who killed Orshak and Temm,” Murkot wheezed, and Nythian eased his grip just a little too allow the bastard to speak. “B-bitch has evaded us until now. Unbelievable. Tch.” He shook his head, his Kordolian arrogance overriding the pain for just a moment. “Her reputation’s turning into a legend. The lesser species think she’s some sort of talisman, and they’re starting to think they can copy her. That’s a big fucking problem for our kind, don’t you think, traitor? He wants her alive, so she will be taken sooner or later. It is only a matter of time.”

“She will not.” A faint red haze descended across his vision as Nythian’s anger mounted. It took all of his self control not to kill Murkot right there and then. They really had no idea who they were screwing with. Nythian squeezed, cutting off Murkot’s words. He was tired of this little game now. They clearly hadn’t gotten the message that Alexis was with him now. “He? Who is this he? This General you speak of?”

“N-no. The General is our boss. He is the General’s leader. You won’t get to him. He’s smarter than your Akkadian. We don’t know his name,” Rurak interrupted hastily, the arrogance bleeding from his voice as Nythian turned his attention on him. “We don’t know where he is, or where he’s from, or even what he looks like. All we know is that he is of the Bloodline, and we will follow his orders to the death. You have no idea what’s coming for you, Usurper.”

“Who are you more afraid of, Rurak? Him, or me?”

Rurak went very still and very quiet. The light in his amber eyes dulled, and he retreated into himself, almost as if he had just realized he was going to die and had accepted that very fact.

So he was more afraid of his mysterious nameless leader, hm?

Nythian shelved that tidbit of information away. Tarak would be very interested to hear that there was a self-styled Kordolian ruler out there.

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