Realms of Infamy - James Lowder [147]
When the cries and struggles of the last prisoner had ceased, the warriors broke into ragged cheers. Flasks of ale and foul wine had appeared, and many of the warriors drank deeply from them. What had happened to them? I could not even find words to order them to stop, to turn themselves back into soldiers.
"Leave the bodies out," called Zeth. "Let the sun look down on them tomorrow and review our night's work. Let the world see what the children of maggots do to have a debt repaid. Our work has only begun." He swayed, then turned and headed off again to the south, away from the smoldering village.
The goblins followed him easily, the warriors who had once been mine. Not one looked back at me as they went.
When they were almost out of sight, I recovered sufficiently to make my own feet work. I followed their quick pace, my mind cold with shock. We half-ran in this manner for several hours, until the air smelled of fresh grass without the touch of smoke and the tang of blood. The warriors chattered as they went, heedless of the need for quiet in enemy territory, and they passed their wineskins back and forth. I, who was once feared and respected by them all, could have been invisible.
Dawn was almost upon us when Zeth slowed to a stop. As the warriors drew up to him, Zeth collapsed on the ground to rest.
I looked down at the puffing half-breed.
"Captain Kergis," gasped Zeth, though I had made no sound as I had come up, "you do not understand, do you?"
"No," I said, not even thinking of lying. "It is your will."
"It is my will, you say, but I am empty," Zeth returned, still out of breath. "I am the cup that holds the drink, but not the drink itself. I am the mouth, but not the word."
"I don't understand this," I said. "I don't understand any of this. We are warriors. We don't-" I broke off, trying to frame my thoughts. "We fight warriors, not worthless farmers. This is cowardice, to kill the dregs and the helpless! We fight those who can fight back! It's the way to win wars."
Zeth finally caught his breath and signed as he lay back on the grass, resting on his elbows. He let his head fall back, staring up into the endless night.
"Captain," he said softly, "you are more blind than I am."
I knelt down on the grass a dozen paces from him. Strength seemed to flow out of me into the air. The warriors were drinking and laughing aloud in the distance.
"You wish to kill me," said the half-breed. "I can feel it. Sometimes I can see things, when the gods borrow my head and I see through their eyes for a few moments. But other things I can hear and taste and feel for myself. You would be glad to see me dead."
Zeth cocked his head in my direction, without looking directly at me. "It was the insult, you see, that drove me to this."
When I did not respond, he nodded to himself. "You do not see, then, not even the insult. The taint. My birth. You do not even see that."
"I see it," I said under my breath. I was thinking about killing him right then with my sword, the gods be damned. It would be easy.
"You see only this body. You see that I am different. You see that you wish to kill me. I hear it in your voice. But you do not see the insult. You cannot learn what I am teaching."
Zeth turned his head away in the direction of the warriors. In a few moments, he got to his feet and walked away.
After a while, I got up, too. Goblins milled around the field, aimless and tired. I guessed from the sky that dawn was only three hours away. We had to be off to make camp. Someone would find the massacred village, and the word would be out. I looked back and saw in the moonlight that our trail would not be difficult for vengeful parties to follow. We had to move or else die here.
I found Zeth sitting on the ground, talking to himself in a low