The Diablon Series 5
Yazar
G. M. Marks
Okur
17,3K
Bölüm
22
The Journey Begins
Book 5
Lilitha’s journey was a blur of confusion and fear. She stumbled along, frequently casting anxious glances over her shoulder, hoping to catch sight of Silus, but he was nowhere to be seen. She strained her ears, listening for the sounds of Damon or Mateus.
Would they roar in anger? Would Carmella’s screams pierce the air? Did they even know what was happening? She hoped not.
Please, don’t let them come. Don’t let them come.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she stubbornly held them back. Her heart ached for her unborn child and her father. What would become of them?
And what was in store for her? The journey was long and grueling, and Lilitha was nearing her breaking point. She was heavily pregnant, and her body was screaming for rest. As the day faded into a dull gray, she stumbled more than she walked, forcing the men on either side of her to support her weight.
They roughly hoisted her up by her armpits, causing her to wince in pain. They hadn’t given her any water and nausea was creeping up on her. Finally, they stopped.
Her wrists were freed momentarily, just long enough for her to gulp down some water, and then they were bound again. This time, she was tied to a tree, her arms wrapped around the wide trunk of an oak, her face pressed against the rough bark.
Silus was also restrained, his chains staked into the ground. The chains were pulled so tight that he was forced to lie on his stomach, unable to move. Despite his predicament, a dozen Champions kept a close watch on him, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords.
More Champions were scattered around the camp, keeping watch, their eyes scanning the surrounding trees.
“Keep the fires burning and stay within the light. These monsters live in the shadows. They’ll see you before you see them!” the man in charge barked.
Lilitha watched the man who seemed to be in charge, wondering how he knew so much about them. He was an intimidating figure, speaking through gritted teeth as if he was chewing on each word.
He had discarded his armor, revealing a black tunic with a white star emblazoned on it, a stark contrast to the red and gold uniform of the Champions. His face was marked by a jagged scar, which looked even more menacing in the flickering firelight.
Despite the size of the camp, it was eerily quiet. Fear kept the Champions on edge. Two of the three injured men were being attended to by their comrades.
The third had succumbed to his injuries and his lifeless body lay covered by a blanket. Lilitha sat huddled against the tree, her head bowed as the captain approached. He sneered at her before turning his attention to Silus.
“So, Beast, ready to meet your end?” he taunted. “You won’t be terrorizing these good people any longer.”
He stood over Silus, arms crossed, jaw set. Despite his bravado, he maintained a safe distance. “Tell me, where’s the rest of your clan?”
Silus remained silent. The captain grunted in annoyance. “Pull at his chains!”
Silus let out a roar as fresh blood stained his arms and legs. Lilitha cried out in horror. The chains must have been spiked.
“Stop it! You’re hurting him!” she protested.
The captain turned to her, a sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Men, unchain the bitch.”
“Leave her alone!” Silus growled, his voice deep and menacing. “Or I swear to God, I’ll rip your throat out!”
A tense silence fell over the camp. The only sound was the soft hooting of an owl and Silus’s labored breathing.
“Then answer my question,” the captain said quietly. “Don’t tell me a mighty alpha like you is satisfied with just one female.”
“I have no choice! You humans have slaughtered us to a handful of souls.” Silus’s voice trembled with emotion. “She’s all I have.”
“A sad story. Forgive me if I don’t feel sympathetic.” The captain crouched beside Silus, lowering his voice. Lilitha strained to hear their conversation.
“You can drop the act. I know your alpha is still out there.” He grinned at Silus’s look of alarm. “Yes. Don’t think I’m a fool. I’m not one of these useless farm boys,” he spat. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. I know how you monsters think.”
He tapped his temple, then pointed at his scar. “Some lessons are hard learned but never forgotten.”
“You—!” Silus began, but stopped abruptly, hissing in pain. He glared at the captain, baring his teeth. “He will find you and tear your heart out.”
The captain rose to his feet. “Oh, I’m counting on him finding me, don’t you worry about that. As for tearing my heart out”—he shrugged—“we’ll see.”
He looked at Lilitha and winked. “Your horns and tails are worth a chest of silver, but the alpha’s is worth the same in gold. He will be mine too before the week is out. As for any females left out here”—he waved his hand dismissively—“they are no threat. Let them starve.”
With that, he walked away.
***
Lilitha hardly slept that night; her head rested against the tree, and her arms ached from the awkward position. Her back felt like it was being torn in two. She wanted to talk to Silus, but they would yank at his chains every time she tried.
As dawn broke, the camp was packed up, and they were on the move again. Lilitha was roughly pulled to her feet and pushed ahead. Her body was stiff and sore, her back ached, and she was exhausted from the uncomfortable night.
Silus was in worse shape. His chains were coated in blood and he reeked of waste, the Champions refusing to allow him to relieve himself. His wound had stopped bleeding, but he was clearly in immense pain with the spiked chains cutting into his flesh.
The Champions kept them separated. Silus was in the middle of the group, surrounded by his guards. Lilitha walked further behind, her hands manacled behind her back, flanked by two gruff knights.
Despite the pain and exhaustion, she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, only to see smoke billowing into the sky. As the sun set, they decided to set up camp once more. They tied her clumsily to a tree, just like before.
She was feeling nauseous. Her legs throbbed with pain. Her chest was tender. Her body shook from exhaustion. They had only paused once during the day, maintaining a punishing speed. Silus was nowhere to be seen, and she could only guess how he was faring with his injuries and the spiked chains.
She was so worn out that her eyes closed almost instantly.
The next morning, they were up at the crack of dawn. It wasn’t until the afternoon that they reached the path that would lead them to Esteria. Cheers erupted.
Lilitha’s heart plummeted. A small wagon filled with supplies awaited them, along with several tethered horses and a few Champions standing guard. That’s when she spotted Silus.
Lilitha tried to pull away from her captors, but they yanked her back. He was still in chains, just as he had always been. His body seemed to be covered in blood.
He was hunched over, his horned head too heavy for his neck. His eyes were shut. When she called his name, he didn’t respond.
With the injured Champions loaded into the wagon and a clear path ahead, the group set a demanding pace. Lilitha managed to keep up, panting, sweating, and stumbling, but Silus kept tripping and falling, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Every time he fell, the Champions jerked his chains and he staggered back to his feet.
“Stop! Can’t you see you’re killing him!” she screamed.
But every time Lilitha tried to protest, a harsh slap silenced her, and all she could do was watch helplessly as Silus fell again and again. Tears streamed silently down her burning cheeks.
When they finally stopped to set up camp, Silus was sprawled on his back, his chains wrapped around him, his breath rattling in his chest, his eyelids flickering over the whites of his eyes. When they offered him water, he didn’t have the strength to drink.
“Please!” Lilitha pleaded. “Let me go to him. He’s sick!”
A nearby Southerner looked at her. An older one. His black beard was turning gray.
“What did you say, Diablon bitch?” he sneered. “Help you? Be glad I don’t stick a dagger in his black heart and help us all.”
Lilitha kicked a spray of dirt at him with a growl. His face turned purple with rage, and he jumped to his feet, a dagger appearing in his hand.
Before he could approach, the captain called, “Oy!”
The man put away his dagger.
“What did I say about keeping away from the prisoners?” the captain said.
The Southerner glared at him, his eyes following the scar on his face. “My mistake,” he grumbled and walked away.
The captain watched him leave, then turned to Lilitha. “You demon slut, I should string you from the branches by your tits.”
Lilitha swallowed her anger, nodding at Silus. “He’s suffering badly. If you don’t let me help, he will die.”
He squinted at her, then looked at Silus, twisting his mouth. The mix of Southerners and Champions standing guard watched silently as he went over and nudged Silus’s leg.
Silitha winced as he poked Silus in the eye. Silus didn’t move.
“Water!” the captain shouted.
A Champion brought a dish over. The captain parted Silus’s lips while the Champion trickled some water in. Silus coughed weakly. He didn’t open his eyes.
The blood on his arms, legs, and back glowed in the flickering firelight. More blood was matted in his hair and beard. He reeked of it.
The captain chewed on his bottom lip, his dark eyes growing darker as they shifted between Lilitha and Silus. “I can’t have him die yet.”
“We need food,” Lilitha said desperately, hopefully. “It’s been days since we’ve eaten.”
The captain stood. He spun around, shouting across the camp, “Bring me the body!”
It was one of the dead Champions Silus had killed. Two more Champions dropped him by the captain’s feet, their faces filled with disgust.
The captain spat. “Unchain the Diablon bitch. Let her help him, but keep a close eye on her.”
The Champions looked at each other in dismay.
“Do it!” he snarled. “Or I’ll feed one of you to him instead.”
“What about Silus?” Lilitha said as the Champions unbound her.
“Don’t think I’ll loosen his chains, no matter how sick he is. Tend to him as best you can.”
Her chains were released, and Lilitha forced herself to her feet, her knees buckling as pain shot down her left hip. She staggered over and dropped to her knees beside him. She touched his cheek.
“Father,” she whispered. His eyes flickered. She looked over at the body. “Bring it over.”
Nobody moved, the firelight flickering against the men’s eyes and faces.
Lilitha glared at them but struggled back to her feet. She grabbed the dead man under the armpits and dragged him over. Her strength surprised her.
She dropped him beside Silus, wiped a smear of blood from the man’s wound, and pressed her palm to Silus’s mouth. He stirred, licked her hand, his eyes opening a crack.
“Lilitha,” he croaked.
“I’m here,” she said in relief. “Here.” She brought the dish of water to his lips.
He drank.
Lilitha glanced around the camp. It was quiet, the night filled only with the sounds of chirping crickets and the quiet nickering of horses. Everyone was watching, their eyes flashing in the firelight.
Lilitha could feel the tension. The expectation. The anticipation. Many of the Champions were looking at her in disbelief, as though they couldn’t believe she was a monster at all. So be it. If they wanted a show, she would give them one.
She lifted the dead man’s filthy shirt, leaned over, and bit down hard into his side.
The camp erupted with noise: shouting, the clanging of swords being drawn, the thud of rushing feet.
“Halt!” the captain roared. “Keep back or I’ll have your heads!”
Lilitha glared at them all, her mouth full of flesh. They kept their distance, some with swords at the ready, the Southerners grim and disgusted, the Champions pale and wide-eyed. Two of the older Southerners had arrows aimed at her, braced atop mean-looking wooden contraptions.
She tossed the piece of meat into her palm and offered it to Silus, who consumed it as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Once he was done with that piece, she continued to tear off chunks of flesh from the body, feeding him until his face regained its color and his eyes sparkled with life again.
When he finally turned away, letting out a sigh, Lilitha took her turn to eat.
Her growing belly was a hindrance as she tried to lean over, so she resorted to using her hands, shoving the meat into her mouth while shooting defiant glances at the humans. Her face was smeared with blood. Her hands were slick with it.
By the time she finished, the man’s abdomen was hollowed out, the edges curled back to expose the glistening, blood-soaked tissue underneath, his insides scattered around. She wiped her mouth, tugging at the collar of her blood-soaked tunic that clung uncomfortably to her skin.
Then she turned her attention to her spectators. Many had retreated or looked away. Some were retching into the bushes.
The rest were pale or gray-faced.
The silence was deafening.
“God in heaven,” one of them muttered.
The captain remained mute.
“I am a monster,” she snarled at them. “What did you expect?”
