Beast of Zarall Page 22

  Crawler stood up, gaining his balance on one foot. He armed himself with his sword, but didn’t attack. He was frozen; gawking at Beast as the purebred reshaped Hollow’s head.

  Hollow’s face was turning into a red mash made of broken skull fragments, oozing brain, blood, and broken flesh. It made a nauseating, mushy sound each time it connected with the bars. He could not still be alive; his head was nothing but a bloody mess with some hair attached to it. Beast slammed him one last time, with an inhuman howl, and managed to jam Hollow’s head completely through the gap between the bars.

  “Merciful Alunwea,” whispered Valnar.

  Beast left Hollow’s dead body hanging by the bars and turned to face his other opponents. Bilghe was still on the floor, coughing and spurting blood from his mouth. Beast’s eyes fixed on Crawler.

  The freeborn slave dropped his sword. His pants turned dark with urine. He ran to the door of the cage as the crowd roared in anger and excitement.

  “Let me out, Master, Owner, please, let me out of here...”

  Valnar felt sorry for the warrior when he saw Beast’s face. It wasn’t human. Valnar had known the slaves weren’t human, but he’d never fully realized it until now.

  Fear was a cold breeze in Valnar’s heart. When he remembered the moments of defiance and disobedience the purebred had demonstrated days ago, proving that he was broken, Valnar’s mouth dried.

  Beast grabbed Crawler by his back and threw him to the floor. He climbed on top of the screaming warrior, straddling his chest, and started punching his face. He broke Crawler’s nose, jaw, and cheekbones. His fist pounded on his face, over and over again, never even displaying any sign of fatigue.

  The men around the cage roared their excitement when Bilghe stood up. He pulled his hand free from his shield and picked up his sword. Clutching at his wound with his free hand, he staggered towards Beast, who’s back was turned to him.

  “Behind you! Look out!” Lygor yelled, cupping his hands near his mouth.

  Beast didn’t seem to hear Lygor. His fist continued landing on Crawler’s face, which was only a red paste now.

  Bilghe raised his sword high, the tip facing down. Just as he brought it down on Beast’s back, the purebred rolled to the side, letting the sword slice through Crawler’s chest.

  Beast tackled Bilghe to the ground. The free warrior grappled Beast’s neck and tried to wrestle him off. Beast turned and bit his fingers off. The spectators cheered wildly when they heard the sound of snapping bones. Beast spat them to the side.

  Next, he pushed Bilghe’s head down, and went for his throat. The warrior’s scream turned into a wet gurgling sound.

  Beast bit a chunk of flesh off from Bilghe’s throat. Instead of spitting it out, he chewed the piece in his mouth. A generous amount of hot blood spurted at Beast’s face. His nose and below was fully painted in red.

  “He’s... he’s not human,” Valnar mumbled. Lygor didn’t respond. Ink looked as if he was about to throw up.

  Bilghe’s struggles were weakening. Beast tilted the warrior’s chin up, and dug his fingers into the open wound in his throat.

  “Uniting Kiejain,” Ink whispered shakily. Valnar had rarely heard the Kaldorian shaken like this, with the Twelve’s name on his lips.

  Beast dipped his both hands into Bilghe’s throat, who had already stopped moving. The purebred’s face was strained in concentration. His lips parted in a bloody snarl. Bilghe’s flesh was still in his mouth. He clawed his way into the bloody mess, found what he was looking for, and yanked the dead man’s tongue out from his throat.

  Valnar wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. He thought this was it. He should stop now. They’d won.

  Mighty Kiejain knew, Valnar didn’t want that thing coming out of that cage, but they’d won.

  However, it wasn’t over yet.

  Beast stood up, his eyes still bulging in their sockets. That snarl hadn’t left his face and he was still chewing the piece of Bilghe’s flesh in his mouth.

  One of the fighters was still alive.

  Beast’s eyes narrowed at Crawler, who was living up to his name and crawling towards the door. The purebred took two steps, then paused, tilting his head and looking at Bilghe’s shield. He chewed, looking almost thoughtful. He turned and picked up the shield, strode towards Crawler without hurry. He kicked him to his back, raised the shield over his head, and brought the bottom edge against Crawler’s throat.

  The men cheered their approval, as Beast brought the shield down again, trying to decapitate Crawler. He couldn’t finish what he’d started, though he came very close.

  By the time he got out of his berserk and stumbled on his knees, Crawler’s head was only attached to his shoulders by some skin and crushed bones.

  Beast supported himself on his hands and knees. He blinked and shook his head. All three of his rivals were dead now and his Kill Word was finally fading.

  Beast paused, then spat Bilghe’s flesh out of his mouth. Realizing what it was, he gagged, spat, and wiped his mouth repeatedly. He jumped up on his feet, his head jerking from side to side as he studied his work. It was hard to read his face under the layer of blood.

  The men were chanting: “Purebred! Purebred! Purebred!”

  Beast’s eyes found Valnar in the crowd. The snarl came back on his face as the purebred stared at his Owner with hatred.

  Then, his gaze went to Lygor. He dropped on one knee and saluted the prince.

  There was a monster inside Beast. A demon. Valnar swallowed. After witnessing what the Lion of Zarall was truly capable of, Valnar wanted nothing to do with him.

  Ink’s expression said the Kaldorian shared his feelings too.

  When Valnar searched Lygor’s face, he felt dread. The prince stood tall, his arms crossed, his chin high. His eyes were burning with thrill.

  Lygor was smiling.

  27

  BEAST

  They walked back to the town without speaking. The only sound was the heavy tread of their boots on damp soil and the cheerful jingle of the purse hanging on Lygor’s hips.

  Beast rubbed his right hand with his left. There was a minor wound inside his palm and it ached when he moved his fingers. Not surprisingly, he didn’t remember how he hurt it.

  He closed and opened his fist, once again reassuring himself that at least it wasn’t broken. He turned his palms down and examined his knuckles. They were bruised and bloody.

  He’d figured out how he got those after one look at Crawler’s face. Beast didn’t quite feel sorry for the freeborn. At least he’d finished the job, instead of leaving him with a permanent injury.

  A cold breeze came to life, causing him to shiver. He pulled his cloak close. His shirt was still damp with blood.

  After Valer felt safe enough to open the cage and made a quick payment to Lygor, he’d took them to the water trough at the back of the winery, so Beast could clean up. Beast had washed his hands and face, rubbed the traces of the other men’s deaths off his skin. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. At Lygor’s request, he’d taken his shirt off and put it on backwards. There were blood stains on his back too, but at least majority was concealed under his cloak.

  Beast glanced at Valnar, who was walking behind him. The knight rubbed his chin, fiddled with his belt, pretending not to be watching Beast. Valnar was wary of him since the fight. Almost as if he was spooked. The thought made Beast grin, but he was clever enough to hide it.

  Lygor walked in front. His arms were relaxed at his sides, his strode easy. He was studying the starry sky, enjoying the night. Ink wasn’t with them. He’d stayed back at the winery, saying he’d catch up with them at the inn in an hour or so. Assuming it had something to do with the promise he’d made to Welda, they hadn’t asked any more questions.

  They arrived at the town, walked through the quiet streets, and reached the inn. Beast made off for the stable.

  “Where are you going?” Lygor asked, standing near the stairs to the front door.

&
nbsp; “To the stable, Master.”

  “I think you deserve a drink. Come on inside.” He climbed up the stairs, but paused when he noticed neither Beast nor Valnar were following him.

  Valnar glared at Beast, while the slave simply looked confused. “What’s wrong?” Lygor asked.

  Valnar cleared his throat. “I think he wants to go and have some rest after that fight,” he said, low. Oddly, Beast agreed with him.

  “Since when do you care what he wants?” Lygor laughed. “Come on. We all could use a drink.” He walked inside. This time, without looking back.

  Valnar gritted his teeth while Beast scowled. The knight seemed to be angry at him, as if the invitation was Beast’s doing. “Well,” Valnar sighed. He nodded towards the door. Beast dragged his feet up the stairs and walked inside.

  The common room of the inn was warm. A large fireplace was burning on one side. The floorboards were muddy and the air stank of sweat and vomit. The place had no appeal to him, so he didn’t understand why free men enjoyed spending time at places like this. Half the tables were occupied by men drinking, gambling, and talking loudly. A large man sitting on a stool near the door sized them up, his glare lingering on Beast, but he didn’t get up.

  Valnar raised his hand to push him forward, hesitated, then lowered it back down. Instead, he nodded towards the table where Lygor was making himself comfortable. Beast walked.

  “Sit down,” Lygor gestured at the chair on his left. Valnar sat opposite Beast, on Lygor’s right.

  The slave felt awkward sitting at the table with them, like equals. He hunched and kept his eyes on the stained surface of the table.

  The innkeeper approached with a grim expression on his face. He regarded Beast with disapproval. It was the same guy who tried to scam them for a room just a few hours ago.

  “We’ll have three beers, please,” Lygor said. “And we’ll take a room for tonight. One with four beds and it better be decent, for the price you’re asking.”

  The innkeeper shared a look with the big man by the door. The bouncer came up and stood behind him. Valnar leaned back, his hands at his sides.

  “I don’t serve slaves at my tavern,” the innkeeper said.

  Lygor raised an eyebrow. “I’m paying for three drinks and you’ll bring us three drinks.”

  “I’ll give you a room and you can keep him there, or you can take him to the stable. But I ain’t serving any slaves at my tables.”

  Several heads from the nearest tables turned to watch them. “Lodi,” Valnar muttered. “I’ll take him to the stable.”

  “No.” Lygor put a hand on Beast’s arm. “Raise your head for me, please.”

  Beast did as he asked, tilting his head back and displaying the details of his tattoo.

  “What do you see?” Lygor asked the innkeeper.

  The man hardly even looked at the tattoo. He put his hands on his hips and puffed his chest out. “I see a slave sitting at my table...” The bouncer interrupted him by tapping at his shoulder. He whispered in the innkeeper’s ear, which caused him to take another look at Beast’s tattoo. The man’s scowl deepened.

  “I really would like you to serve us three drinks, my friend,” Lygor said. “Or, I’ll order my purebred to go get them himself and beat anything that stands between him and our drinks.”

  “Are you threatening me at my own inn, Master?” The innkeeper sneered.

  Lygor tilted his face to the ceiling, thinking. He nodded slowly. “Yes, I am. So?”

  “Egril,” the bouncer begged. “It’s not worth it, man. Just serve them. Nobody cares.”

  Egril looked around, colour of embarrassment creeping up to his face. He bared his teeth and stormed off to his bar. The bouncer returned to his stool.

  “I don’t like displaying him like this,” Valnar said when they were alone. “People remember being threatened by a purebred beast. Vogrosses are looking for him too.”

  “People also remember watching three men being butchered by a purebred beast,” Lygor said. “We’ve already left our trace in this town. It’s a bit late to stay low now.” He leaned back. “Besides, we’re leaving in first light. You’ll go ahead to find the town’s horse breeder and get him a decent mount. We’ll meet you there.”

  “I don’t think we can afford a riding horse. He’ll have to do with a mule.”

  “As long as it gets us to Calae. I’m sure our soon-to-be allies will help after that.”

  Valnar sighed, but didn’t say anything. A serving girl carried a tray with three mugs of beer to their table. The innkeeper still glared at them from behind his bar. Lygor slid a red coin to the serving girl, who made it disappear swiftly. “Keep them coming tonight, honey.”

  “With pleasure, handsome.”

  Lygor nodded at the mug in front of Beast. “Drink it.”

  Beast complied, reluctantly. The drink tasted like fiery poison in his mouth. He managed not to spit it back out, but couldn’t help screwing up his face. Lygor laughed.

  “You have drunk beer before, right?”

  “Yes, Master, once.” He never understood what free men liked about this beverage. Although, at least it cleared the taste of blood from his mouth. Lygor laughed again.

  “It’s an acquired taste.” The prince drank, gulping half the cup down as if showing off. He gestured Beast to continue drinking.

  Not my body, it’s their property, recited Beast quietly. He held his breath and drank. His eyes watered and his stomach heaved. He paused, squeezed the bridge of his nose, and finished the rest. He put the empty mug at the table, still fighting the aftertaste. Now that he’d pleased Lygor, he was hoping to be excused, but the prince gestured the serving girl to come over.

  “Bring us a glass of red wine and a shot of Ro’norin, please. Have you got any Blue Rocker? A cup of that as well.” When the girl left with his order, Lygor grinned at Beast. “You have to try them all and decide which ones you like best. We’ll find out which one is your favourite.”

  Beast couldn’t hold back his flinch at Lygor’s choice of words. He felt as if a cold hand went through his chest, grabbed his miserable heart, and crushed it. Saradra’s words rang in his head:

  Tell me something about yourself.

  What’s your favourite food?

  Look at me.

  He forced a blank expression on his face and focused on breathing through the pain inside his chest. He pushed Saradra’s memory down as deep as he could.

  “You okay?” Lygor asked, leaning forward to study Beast’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I live to serve, I breathe to please, Master,” Beast replied dully. He took one more slow breath, and raised his head.

  Lygor was still scrutinizing him, suspicion written all over his face. After watching Beast’s face for several more seconds, he leaned back, deciding to let it go.

  The serving girl came back with a tray of different drinks and more beer. Lygor pushed the drinks in front of Beast. “Go ahead.”

  Beast eyed the smallest cup. The clear liquid inside the tiny cup didn’t have any distinguishing smell. There wasn’t more than a mouthful of it and Beast judged it as the harmless looking one.

  He couldn’t be more wrong.

  The alcohol went down his throat burning, as if he’d swallowed live fire. He doubled over the table, his head throbbing as if he’d been punched. He moaned, his eyes blurry, and his ears burning.

  Lygor was snickering, while Valnar scowled with disapproval. When Beast had finished gagging and believing his tongue was going to melt in his mouth, he sat up and breathed. He stared at the other drinks with dread.

  “So,” Lygor said, keeping his voice low. “Tell me about the king.”

  Beast fidgeted with the wine glass. “Which king, Master?”

  “Leonis.”

  “Umm...” Beast glanced at Lygor’s face, seeking his expression. The prince suddenly seemed bitter. Beast took a small sip from the red liquor and grimaced. It tasted like boiled socks. “I... don’t know how to a
nswer that, Master.”

  “How did he treat you?” Lygor prompted. “Was he fair to you?”

  “I... umm... He rarely talked to me, Master. He only visited the locker room before every major fight.”

  “Why?”

  “He’d put my mask on.”

  “Huh.” Lygor ran his fingers along the rim of his mug. “Did he really display you at every feast?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  A smile played on Lygor’s lips. “He was so proud of his precious Lion of Zarall.”

  Beast didn’t know how to respond to that, so he drank. He tried to drink and be done with it as quickly as possible. By the time he got to the bottom of his glass, he was starting to feel different. Lighter. It wasn’t a bad feeling. The serving girl cleared the empty cups and refreshed Valnar and Lygor’s drinks.

  Ink came out of nowhere and sat on Beast’s other side. The slave hadn’t even noticed him walk in. He blinked and rubbed his face while Ink gestured for a beer. The Kaldorian eyed him warily.

  “How was Welda?” Lygor smirked.

  “Huh?” Ink’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Wait, no, I don’t wanna hear.”

  The Kaldorian smiled and shrugged. Several men at one of the tables near the fireplace started shouting. At first, Beast thought they were arguing. Then, he realized they all were laughing, raising their mugs, and slapping each other’s backs, as they spoke over one another. They were singing. Horribly.

  “At every single tavern,” Lygor shook his head, yet he smiled.

  They were so out of tune, they would have made Keaneiros, King Leonis’s bard cry. Other men added their voices in the jumble of words. He heard something about a clumsy bear and a lion with a big spear. This must have been the song Lygor was talking about. The Lion and The Bear.

  Lygor gestured Beast to continue drinking. Beast’s head felt heavy, but he complied. He took the clear-blue drink to his lips and grimaced at the taste. Unlike the others, this one wasn’t bitter. It was rather too sweet.

  “It’s not a bad song if they hadn’t ruined it like that,” Lygor commented as he watched the men sing. “Hey, why don’t you tell us about the fight? Were you really naked and unarmed?”