Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,62

this necessary?” she asked after wiping her mouth clean.

Thrask laughed. “Yes. We have killed many today. A glorious time for the Goblin kingdom. Your people were weak, Maleela. Killing them was a mercy.”

“Mercy? They were mostly women and children. What mercy is there in murdering unarmed combatants?”

“Goblins have been at war with your race since the world cooled. How many thousands have you killed in kind?” Thrask asked. He surprised her with his depth of knowledge over the past, making him extremely dangerous.

Maleela gagged as the wind blew the raw smell of butchered meat and offal in her face. “No one living had anything to do with the past. This is our war. Our time. History is made through our deeds, not those of our fathers.”

“Fathers, bah! I killed my father when I was seven. Malweir deserves to burn and I am going to be the one who does it,” Thrask told her matter-of-factly. “The time of the Goblin is at hand. Mankind has had its time.” He gestured back to the killing fields. “This is just the beginning.”

What have I allied myself with? None of this is worth revenge against my father. Maleela struggled to find any words capable of countering Thrask’s aggression. She fell short. Never in her short life had she encountered such raw hatred. Not even with all of the hurt her father had inflicted did Maleela feel the sting or fervor like the murderous Goblins. A small voice in her mind whispered she might have made a mistake.

He took her silence for acceptance. “There is no such creature as innocence. Your world will burn just like these fools.”

“Will you consume these children as well?” she asked.

“An army must feed. But no, princess. We have filled our bellies on Man flesh enough. These we leave to rot in the afternoon sun. They will serve their purpose.”

She flinched. “What purpose?”

“Fear.”

Thrask flashed his tusks and stormed away, leaving Maleela less sure than she’d ever been. Her world continued to crumble around her and there was nothing she could do to slow the progression. She feared it was going to be the end of not only her sanity but her immortal soul. Any semblance of honor she once possessed abandoned her. She was becoming her father. A twisted shell of a being incapable of knowing right from wrong. What was worse, part of her didn’t mind.

Venom in her eyes, Maleela stared at Thrask’s broad back. As much as she wanted to strike his head from his shoulders she recognized that doing so would alienate the rest of the army. She’d follow him in death. Whether Amar Kit’han succeeded or not wasn’t her concern. She only wished to visit her personal vengeance on the wrongs committed by her father. All else was secondary by nature. The princess steeled her mind and stomach against the carnage and decided it was time to keep moving.

They marched throughout the night. More than once the princess of Delranan fell asleep in her saddle and would have fallen if not for the strap securing her tightly to the horse. Small, she wasn’t meant to be a campaigner. Her life, while largely ignored by her family, was one of stark luxury compared to any other she had traveled with since leaving Chadra Keep in the fall. She was used to sleeping in beds with pillows and down blankets. Eating regular meals of fresh meat and breads. The Goblins lived by baser, harsher standards.

Several had already been killed over fruitless duels the rest reveled in. She’d watched whip masters flog their soldiers to the bone on whims. The madness of their race lacked inspiration despite being contagious. Insanity sparked like actions that revolted Maleela. Until now she’d never thought her life to be sheltered. The random brutality of war skewed all of her previously held notions of sensibility. War was brutal, without purpose, and forever changing. One was fortunate if they managed to escape unscathed.

Through her daze she caught sight of a ghastly pale glow. Knowing little of this part of Delranan, Maleela stiffened immediately. The very air held the taint of witchcraft. The tiny hairs on her arms stood on end. She suddenly felt cold, as if the warmth was stolen from her blood. Never before had she experienced such vile despair as in those initial moments when she first spied the glow.

Her unease spread through the Goblin ranks. They were naturally superstitious and took no luxury in being near such an unnatural place. The advance