The Bronze Blade: An Elemental World Novella (2 page)

“
Ma!
”
 

She didn’t breath until a sharp yank on her hair let loose her fury and pain. The girl screamed long and loud, kicking her legs and biting at the arm that held her. She kept screaming as the creature dragged her higher into the starry sky.

Then something struck her temple, and everything was black.

When she woke, it was in darkness and her arms were bound together with twisted strips of leather. She’d been left in a tent that reeked of old animal hides and rot. Stones dug into her cheek, and she could feel something—probably blood—dry and crusted at her temple. Her lips were split. She could see nothing, because black hair hung over her face.

The old women talked about it, occasionally. Sometimes, the raiders took more than goats. Sometimes, some or all the girls in a village would disappear. They were never seen again. The raiders were men, after all. And what could one small village do? That was the reason girls didn’t wander at night. But First Wife had wanted to know how many goats the raiders had left them, and the girl didn’t argue.

Mama!

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rid her mind of his terrified cries.

Ma!

Despite her physical pain, the bitter tears had not fallen until that moment.

She heard someone walk into the tent, then her arms were jerked up, and the bindings bit into her wrist. He grunted and brushed the thick mane of hair away from her face, muttering under his breath.

It was one of the raiders. His hand was cold when he pushed her forehead back to examine her. His grimy fingers lifted her lip to check her teeth, then he pulled off the tunic she still wore, though it had been ripped in many places and barely clung to her frame. She shivered in the sudden cold. He was a tall man, and stocky. He looked her up and down, seemingly satisfied by her appearance. His dirty mouth turned up at the corners, and the girl’s stomach churned with a dreadful fear.

It wasn’t a man at all, but a demon from childhood nightmares.

Fangs hung over his lip, and his gums were stained red with blood. His skin was pale and bloodless, but the eyes were like two black pits, reflecting her own panic back to her as she trembled before him.

A high keening sound came from her throat. In the back of her mind, she saw her son’s eyes, wide in the moonlight, glassy with tears as he reached for her. Would someone find him? When she didn’t return, would First Wife send another to check? Perhaps, the baby would crawl toward the pens where he played, and someone from the village would take him.

Probably, he was dead. At least he had been spared whatever horrors this demon would inflict on her.

The monster barked out some words she didn’t recognize, and slapped the girl’s face until she quieted her cries. Then he grunted and reached for something in a pile behind her. It was another tunic, which he pulled over her head, snapping the bindings on her wrists with two fingers. He was inhumanly strong. The girl wondered how easily he could snap her bones. He pushed the hair back from her face and tugged on her arm until she stumbled after him.

As she walked through the camp, the girl wondered what she had done to deserve this fate. Perhaps, she had been too happy once. Perhaps she had tempted the gods, as her mother had warned her. The gentle man who once met her eyes had died. The girl child had died. The boy would die too, if he was not dead already. Surely, it would be better to die before Fate caught her in some other net.

She was not afraid of death.

They passed two raiders, standing around a fire. They eyed her with blatant glee, but she ignored them, staring at the red flames that tossed sparks into the night air.

Fire was too uncertain. People fell into cooking fires all the time, but they didn’t die unless the wound became angry and swollen. Then, a fever might take them. She needed something more than fire.

Perhaps they were near cliffs or a river. Either one would be a more certain way to die. And the girl knew she would rather die than exist for whatever purpose the demon chose for her. She did not know her child’s fate, but she knew her own. Life was short and brutal for those who lived on the plains, and she’d lived longer than many.

She burned with the need to find a quick death.

The raider pulled her past some tents. They were thick and heavy, low to the ground, with no flaps to let in light. She saw no cooking fires and no women or children. The camp reeked of blood and spoiled meat. Filthy rags hung over the backs of the tents; some of them seemed to be washed, but only a few.

As they approached the largest fire, the monster turned to her and slapped her cheek again. The girl didn’t make a sound. Her mind was occupied with how she might kill herself as quickly as possible. Perhaps if she angered the creature—

“Tshhh,” he hissed, putting his finger over her mouth. He wanted her to be silent. He lifted a brow, looking at her as if she was dumb livestock, then he said it again. “Tsh.”

She gave him no response, purposely making her eyes as dead as possible. He scowled at her, but the girl didn’t care. Then he turned and continued walking toward the large fire in the middle of the tents.

The camp was not large, she saw no more than a dozen tents. There were no houses like the mud and thatch roof huts her people had built by the river, but a few of the tents were larger and sat higher off the ground. She saw a grouping of ponies near the largest tent. The animals were decorated with bright cloth saddles and beads in their manes. The girl had only ever seen ponies from a distance and had always wondered how the nomads rode them. But the one who had grabbed her had come from the sky.

Perhaps these monsters also rode some monstrous birds, as well as the four-footed, stomping beasts.

Her captor had hooked an arm around her neck as they walked. A few men parted before him. She saw two more raiders nodding at him with respect. Whatever he was, the demon that held her was a being of some importance.

The girl ignored all of them, until she saw a metal blade at the waist of a man nearby. It was not unlike the scooped stone knives she’d used to clean animal hides with her mother. Her hands were no longer bound. She watched as the knife came closer. Her fingers trembled.

As she passed the man, her hand darted out, yanking the knife from his waist as she twisted her thin frame from under her captor’s arm. There were a few wretched laughs around her as some of them noticed.

Before the monster could grab her again, she fell to her knees, bringing the sharp edge of the blade up to her throat and pressing in. She felt it bite, and her mouth spread into a relieved smile, but before she could drag the knife deeper, her hand was yanked back and the snickers turned into roars of laughter around her.

Her captor knocked her to the ground with a cuff to her temple, but the girl didn’t go down quietly. She screamed and clawed to her hands and knees, scrambling toward the knife that had fallen into the dirt. Her captor kicked her stomach, but she kept going. Her only thought was the sweet relief of death that waited on the edge of the bronze blade.

He yanked her up by the hair, and the knife fell from her fingers. Her dark eyes followed it down to the dirt where it landed, blade dug into the earth, out of her reach as he lifted her up by the neck. Then he tossed her toward the fire with inhuman strength as the men around him laughed and hooted.

The girl tumbled to the ground, rolling into a ball to avoid the flames. Flames would not be enough. They would only bring her pain that might weaken her from cheating Fate’s plan. She let out a low grunt when she hit a pair of leather wrapped legs. Her tumble halted, she looked up into the eyes of the most fearsome creature she’d ever seen, all the more terrifying, because he looked nothing like a monster.

His eyes were cold and beautifully sloped; his long hair was pulled back into a neat topknot. His face was severe, as if sculpted from rock, and his skin was the soft brown of newly dried clay. From the length of his beard, he was old, but not a single grey hair touched his temples.

He looked at her for a long moment, then he looked up and the other men fell silent. The girl understood immediately. He was their chief. Or god. Perhaps the beautiful monster was a god come to earth, though his legs certainly felt solid. The chief said something to her captor in a low voice. He responded in the same mysterious language. They went back and forth for some time, with another voice—a younger one—occasionally sounding between them.

The chief did not sound pleased. After a few more heated moments, the girl felt herself yanked up by the hair again, then she hung in front of the god-like creature as he peered into her eyes. She did not break her stare, but met his eyes boldly. After all, she didn’t want to show respect; she was hoping the monster would kill her. Quickly.

There was a faint lift at the corner of his eyebrow, then he said something to the girl she didn’t understand. She didn’t know how she was so certain he was speaking to her, but there was not a doubt in her mind that it was so. He put a hand to her jaw, then gripped her neck, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. Her head swam and her eyes closed. The raucous sounds of the monsters’ camp picked up again, and she thought she heard more cackling laughter. Or perhaps it was only the fire popping. As the wave of numbness swept over her, the voices drifted to the back of her mind.

She didn’t know, and for the first time, she didn’t care. She was peaceful. Swimming in oblivion. The last thing she remembered was a sharp pop at her neck, and then she knew nothing else.

As she woke, she curled around him. Her child’s little warm body was wrapped in her arms, and he clung to her. She was warm, and morning thirst pressed against the back of her throat. Her boy smelled sweet, as if he’d spent the day playing at the edge of the river in the sun while she washed their clothes. She pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his neck to nuzzle his skin.

But as she drew closer, the burning in the back of her throat became a fire. She clutched the child when he began to struggle in her arms. The girl felt an aching in her jaw, and she stretched her mouth open as her teeth lengthened. Long. Longer. Her mouth dropped open in pain, her nerves woke, and then everything—

EVERYTHING woke.

Pain.

Like a crackling fire along her skin, spreading and digging into her as she curled her shoulders, no longer aware of the body in her arms. No longer aware of her own breath. Her body was an open wound.

Worse than the fever. Worse than giving birth. Like nothing she could have imagined.

She knew she was dying. Her eyes closed against the agony, she threw her head back and howled. Her mind was consumed by the burning in her throat. Her belly. She opened her eyes, but there was only blackness around her when she heard it.

Th-thunk.

Th-thunk.

Th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk.

The sound was the beating of a primal drum. The call of panicked prey. Her jaw ached, and hunger tore at her throat.

Th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk, th-thunk.

Her lips felt for the soft thrumming of the vein. Then her mouth dropped open, and she plunged her teeth into the flesh, biting down hard as her prey squealed. She rolled over it, trapping the creature under her as she drew even deeper, desperate for the relief the hot liquid splashed against her tongue.

Sweet.

The sweetest taste that had ever crossed her lips. Richer than honey from the hive. It splashed her lips and washed down her throat until the flesh ran dry. Then she sucked at the vein, licking her lips for the last precious drops.

She rolled to her back, staring into the nothingness that surrounded her before her eyes closed again in relief.

As the pain ebbed from her limbs and throat, the girl blinked back into awareness.

She was still surrounded by the scent of animal skins and blood, only it smelled far, far worse. She wasn’t dead, but she was still in the monsters’ camp. Something heavy lay over her arm, but she couldn’t see.

She pulled away and crawled to the edge of the tent until she came to a piece of animal skin that was not stretched as tightly as the others. She pushed the flap out until a low beam of light shone in. It was still blackest night, but even a sliver of light was enough. She could see perfectly in the darkness.

She turned back to see what lay with her, and her mind seized.

It was a child. No more than six or seven years, the small body lay crumbled in the center of the tent, his throat torn out, as if an animal had attacked it. Shaking, she crawled over to him, flipping him over with shaking hands until she could see the lifeless brown eyes.

The girl lifted shaking fingers to her mouth and felt the long, curving fangs that pressed against her lips.

Her mouth dropped open in a mindless roar.

She screamed, and she didn’t stop.

Chapter Two: The Monster

They called her Saaral. It was the word for woman in their language. She thought. She was the only female in the camp except for the human women they would occasionally capture and kill.

Human women, she came to realize, were very breakable. If she’d wanted to live, she might have felt grateful to the solemn chief who had made her a monster.

But Saaral didn’t want to live.

She’d lain in the tent that first night, shaking and weeping as she held the cold body of the boy she’d drained of blood. She would not move until the hunger struck her again, and that was just before the dawn began to break. She fell into blackness with her stomach twisted in knots.

And woke with another struggling victim. This time, it was an emaciated woman. Her hunger didn’t care. By the time she realized she’d killed again, the woman lay with dead eyes staring into the blackness of the small tent where they’d thrown her.

The third night, it was a goat.

Then another child.

Then a pig.

A man.

She vomited up the blood from each kill, only to lap it from the dust when the hunger took her again.