SWNOVELS Chapter 8 - King Darianth
A sharp, hot, shooting pain flashed through my neck as Thoridor’s teeth pierced my skin. I let out a scream of agony, as my spine went limp and I lost control of my body for a second. Then, as Thoridor clamped down his jaw, driving his teeth deeper into my neck, I rummaged around on the floor beside me, looking for something —anything— I could use to defend myself against him.
I bumped into the hot glass side of an oil lamp. Before I could change my mind, I knocked it over with my hand. The glass shattered, and the fire quickly spread to wherever the oil had spilled.
I grabbed one of the shards of glass and jammed it right into the side of Thoridor’s neck. Thoridor let out a deafening roar and let go of me. I scrambled to my feet, clutching my hand to the wound in my neck, and sprinted out of the tent.
I hadn’t even taken three full steps before I bumped into something large. I fell to my back, looking up at the solid shape in front of me. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but then I was able to make out its features.
It was a male —that much was clear— but I had never seen anything like him before. He didn’t look mostly human, like Thoridor and the females from earlier had — he seemed to be a whole new species.
His brow ridge was prominent and protruded off his forehead, shading his eyes below. His nose was crinkled and pointed downwards in an almost animalistic way. His nostrils flared outwards slightly, making him look like he was continuously snorting. He sported a short beard that reached all the way up to his high cheekbones, which were framed dramatically by his half-long, untamed manes. But the most striking features were his horns and eyes.
His irises took up almost all of the visible part of his eyes, and were a deep amber color. His pupils were rectangular, and sideways, reminding me of my goats at home. His horns too — although they were wider and more curled than my goats’s, resembling those of a capricorn. I didn’t get the chance to study him any longer, as his giant hand shot out and wrapped around my throat, which I was still clutching with my hand.
“What is the meaning of this?!” the male boomed, sending a ripple of terror through my body. I saw Thoridor appear beside me in my peripheral view, and in stead of the fear I had felt moments earlier, I now found myself slightly relieved by his presence.
“Release her,” he growled lowly, “now.”
The male turned his head back to me slowly, and scanned my face and body. The bitter taste of bile made its way into my mouth as I tried my best not to vomit.
“A human…” the male drawled, slowly releasing the hold on my throat. I coughed and doubled over as soon as he did, gasping for air. The hand I had pressed to my wound was now sticky with blood.
“She’s no human,” Thoridor snarled, roughly yanking me backward, sending me tumbling back into the tent.
“She’s no Ardanian either,” the male spoke slowly, stepping closer to Thoridor, “so I will end her — or claim her.”
I scrambled further back into the tent, trying to put as much space between the males and myself as I could.
“Too late,” Thoridor spat, “I already have.”
The male’s eyes grew wide in angry shock and he let out a loud roar. He shoved Thoridor aside with his shoulder and barged into the tent, striding toward me on hoof-like feet. I screeched in terror and flung the first thing I could reach toward him — a stone cup.
The male caught it effortlessly and crumbled it in his fist. Then, he grabbed my hair and pulled my head to the side. I let out a yelp of pain as the male bared my neck to him, the fresh wound on full display. My hand shot back up instinctively, trying to cover the puncture wounds of Thoridor’s teeth — except they weren’t there.
Nothing but smooth, clear skin below my fingertips — safe for maybe some slightly raised scar tissue. I gasped in shock. How had my wound healed so fast?! Even with the help of Starvine pulp, it would’ve taken at least days, if not weeks.
I whipped my head around to look at Thoridor, who was quickly stalking toward the male.
“Who do you think you are…” the male mumbled as he now grabbed Thoridor’s hair in his other hand.
“Go ahead,” Thoridor challenged him, not a glimmer of fear in his eyes, “kill me. Then who will take the crown?!”
I swallowed as I glanced at the male. This monstrous goat-man — this was Thoridor’s father?! The King of Ardanis?!
Darianth Kalendir flared his nostrils even wider as he huffed, his hot, sulfur-scented breath fanning over my face. I cringed and averted my eyes.
“You have claimed her,” he said slowly, “wasted your claim on some no-good Calenti. What will she bring to Ardanis?!”
Thoridor shrugged off his father’s hand. “She is no human,” he repeated, “she’s a healer, a Kinian healer. And she’s of age — a fertile female. She will bear younglings.”
My jaw dropped in shock.
Darianth’s eyes found mine. “A Kinian, you say?” he asked, “she looks human to me. I have never seen a Kinian look so human before.”
“Smell her,” Thoridor shrugged, “she does not smell human.”
Darianth leaned forward toward his son, the bridge of his nose nearly touching Thoridor’s.
“There would be no way to know now, would there, son?” he asked so lowly I could hardly make out the words. Thoridor’s eyes were ablaze as he spoke his answer. “I suppose you will just have to take my word for it, father.”