Alara Unbroken - Doug Beyer [6]
Let them eat it up, she thought. And come tomorrow, we’ll see who’s eating whom.
The Tol of their clan, a dreadlocked, bare-chested brute of a man called Kresh, grunted in agreement. Kresh was more than twenty years her junior, but he had earned her grudging respect since she joined his clan. Like all Tol leaders on Jund, Kresh had violently seized control of his clan in single combat. Rakka had known the old Tol, as dirty a fighter as they came. But this braid-headed youth Kresh had crushed her handily in the blood challenge. And his hunting prowess was second to none. He was a true predator of Jund, and the other warriors were unquestioningly devoted to him. That fact would help her cause in the task to come.
“We are the warriors primordial,” Rakka continued, drawing mystical lines in the air with hands that glowed like oozing lava. “When heaven and hell reach out and embrace us, we must continue our Hunt to other lands. Only through our conquest of the worlds above and below will we fulfill our destinies to rule at the apex of life. The Hunt is our true path, the path that leads us to triumph, and we must follow it always, even into the maw of death.” She smiled, and her black teeth shone.
Another chorus of assenting grunts followed.
She eased into the task at hand, her true mission for Kresh’s clan. “Until we are called to the Hunt in the path beyond, we must continue the Hunt here, in the dark places of our own world. Jund devours all those who show weakness. We must stalk and slay those who would seize our destinies from us, and anoint our hair with their blood, to show our world that we are the strong. We must take our prey by the throat, and squeeze it into submission, and feast on its spirit. Only then will we be warriors fit to survive the reckoning to come.”
“Thank you, Shaman Rakka,” said Kresh, standing up. He took her side at the fire and addressed the clan himself.
“Hold Rakka’s words close to your heart tonight, warriors. Tomorrow we will test your dedication to them. Tomorrow we continue the Hunt to the lair of—”
“Malactoth,” prompted Rakka.
“Yes, Malactoth. The dragon. Malactoth is the mightiest dragon we’ve ever hunted. His is the roar that shakes Mount Jhal. Why do we hunt such a potent beast? Because his claws crave our flesh, and his teeth ache for our blood. Rakka says he has fed on goblin warrens and viashino thrashes much farther down Mount Jhal than he ever has before. That means he’s getting closer to our territory. Do you know what he thinks he is?”
The warriors shouted in ragged unison.
“That’s right. He thinks he’s our predator.”
Shouts of protest.
“He thinks he’s up the chain from us, a beast worthy of feeding on our young like a snake snatching eggs from a nest.”
Howls of rage.
Kresh put his hand out, palm down, and the warriors quieted. He finished his speech with his voice low, barely audible over the fire’s crackle.
“Tomorrow we raid his nest.”
The warriors roared in good cheer. Kresh grinned, and Rakka couldn’t help but admire his enjoyment of the moment. It was a good night. Rakka took a swig of stingwine from the skin at her hip and smacked her lips. Tomorrow would go well, and she was tired from the feasting and stories and speeches. But there was no hitting her hammock yet—there were still plenty of preparations to be made. She was going to have to summon a lot of elementals before the sun rose behind the ash of Mount Jhal.
BANT
The face of Rafiq of the Many was wobbly in the silvered glass, but the razor was sharp and precise. He shaved away the stubble from his cheeks and neck, leaving his trademark beard—the same beard depicted on a sigil of patronage used in his home country of Eos. He