‘One can hardly expect in-humans to understand things like mercy and compassion.’
‘What? Your sword is just for show, then?’ Kataria asked, smiling.
Quillian did not smile back, did not even offer a reply.
Perhaps it was the clarity that the hatchet blow had robbed her of that caused the Serrant’s mask of contempt to crack, or perhaps it was that she simply didn’t want to bother keeping it up anymore. But in that moment, the displays of righteous indignation and palls of virtuous disgust fell away from Quillian’s face.
Hate remained in abundance.
It was a pure hate that Kataria had seen before, albeit rarely, a hate that flowed like an ancestral disease. Quillian hated Kataria, hated her mother, hated her father, hated everything with pointed ears as she hated nothing else, not even the pirates swarming about the deck.
‘Go! GO! He’ll kill us all!’
Or running, anyway, she thought as a tattooed blur rushed past her.
The moment of tense readiness collectively and quickly faded into befuddlement as the Cragsmen rushed towards the companions and then, without even looking, right past them. Precious steel was forgotten, wounded men were ignored, terror shone through every inked face. Kataria watched, baffled and wondering whether shooting them in the back counted.
More men rushed past, these ones belonging to the Riptide’s crew. She knew the source of the panic before she even turned about, much less before she heard the screaming.
‘MONSTER!’ one of the Cragsmen howled. ‘RUN, GENTS! THE LOUTS BROUGHT A BLOODY DRAGONMAN!’
Blood-soaked, she thought, would be a more accurate descriptor of the towering creature striding casually after them. A small heap of broken bodies, twisted limbs and ripped flesh lay behind him: the brave and foolish few who had decided he might not be quite as tough as he looked.
Gariath looked as unconcerned as someone covered in gashes and blood could be. Almost bored, she thought, as he stepped upon, rather than over, the bodies before him, continuing a slow pursuit after the fleeing pirates.
That expression gave her the courage to shoot him a pair of scowls. Once for his cold, arrogant stride when he clearly had only about one more kill to his name than she did, if that. Her deepest scowl, accompanied by a matching frown, was for the fact that he walked alone.
Lenk was nowhere to be seen.
‘Stop running, rats,’ Gariath growled. ‘The Rhega were made for better fights than you can offer.’
A body stirred on the deck. A Cragsman, apparently trying to hide amongst his dead fellows, came sprinting off the deck, only to crash back down as a corpse selfishly tripped him.
He did not remain there for long, however.
‘No! NO!’ he shrieked, a pair of clawed hands gripping him by the heels. ‘GET AWAY, BEAST!’
‘Oh, Talanas.’ Asper flashed a sickened look as Gariath pulled the man off the deck. ‘Gariath, don’t.’
The dragonman didn’t seem to notice her, much less acknowledge her words. Kataria stepped forwards, looking past his terrified victim and into his black eyes.
‘Where’s Lenk?’
He looked at her as he might an insect, shrugging.
‘Dead?’ she asked.
‘Probably,’ he grunted. ‘He’s human. Small, stupid . . . not quite as stupid as the rest of you, but still—’
‘Put me down,’ the Cragsman pleaded, ‘please. PLEASE!’
‘Shut up,’ Kataria snarled at him. Her eyebrows rose suddenly. ‘Wait a moment.’ She knelt before him, looking into eyes that threatened to leap from their sockets. ‘Did you kill a silver-haired man?’
‘Looks kind of like a silver-haired child,’ Dreadaeleon piped up.
‘You’re one to talk,’ Asper replied snidely, ‘and he’s not that short.’
‘I . . . I didn’t kill anyone! I swear!’ the pirate squealed.
‘You’re only making this more unpleasant.’ Gariath sighed. ‘Shut up and see if you can’t die without soiling yourself.’
‘How come you didn’t watch him?’ Kataria asked the dragonman.
‘If he can’t watch himself, he deserves whatever happens to him.’ Gariath snorted. ‘Hold that thought.’
‘NO!’ the man screamed as his captor pried his legs apart with no great effort. ‘It’s . . . it’s all cultural! I was pressed into service! Please! PLEASE!’
One by one, groans of impending horror escaped the companions. No one dared to look up, much less protest, as Gariath drew his leg back like a hammer and aimed squarely between the pirate’s legs. Kataria stared for as long as she could, until the sight of the dragonman’s grin finally made her look down.
There weren’t hands big enough to block out the crunching sound that followed.
She looked up just in time to see a flash of red and brown as Gariath tossed the man