Horde (Razorland #3)(54)

By their expressions, a few didn’t like this, especially Morrow and Tegan, but I was done playing. The Freaks knew precisely what this meant—and that was the point. If they respected our boundary posting, then we’d get bored and have to change our strategy. If they did not—and I both hoped for and expected an enraged challenge—then things would get interesting.

Alongside the others, I helped with the hauling. Stalker kept a sharp eye on the terrain around us, as this was a dangerous point. We were off guard, dealing with the aftermath of the battle. Plus, we stood in an open field while stacking the headless Freak corpses in preparation for burning. Tegan gathered dry grass and other kindling in order to speed the bonfire along and Thornton donated a splash of liquor he’d picked up in one of our many stops. Once lit, the monsters made a fearful stink with a column of smoke pluming up like a signal fire.

And that was when the second wave appeared.

They swarmed from the south, and Fade’s warning shout gave us enough time for Spence to fire off a few rounds and Tully to unload two bolts before they hit us. I drew my blades, dancing back enough that I had room to move. It would be the worst luck and the ultimate irony if I fell over a Freak corpse and got clawed to death for my clumsiness.

They came too quick for me to get a count, and that fast I was fighting for my life. Four of them. Where’s Fade? I blocked with my right forearm, slicing two talons with my left so they hung from a spider spool of muscle and skin, dangling, dangling. Another slash cut through entirely and left stumps of bloody bone jutting from the maimed hand. The other three reacted as one; and I couldn’t block all of their blows. I flipped backward, arms extended for balance, but didn’t land clean since the grass was damp with blood. My feet slipped, thus yielding the advantage to my enemies.

Fortunately, I recovered fast enough to avoid everything but two swipes of their collective claws. Blood bubbled in the runnels they left in my flesh, but I spiked my daggers into the first one’s chest, then tore it wide open. Freaks tended to be predictable in their attacks. Over the years, I’d learned how they fought: swipe, swipe, snap with teeth. If they sank them into you, however, they locked their jaws. I rolled away from a snarling attack, using the damp ground to carry me out of range.

Before they could reach me, I rolled to my feet, ignoring the pain in my arms. What were a few more scars? Around me, I caught a glimpse of Fade, fighting to reach me, and Stalker, who was killing like it was his favorite thing in the world. I heard grunts from Thornton and nothing at all from Morrow. Spence was conserving his ammo, favoring knife and boot, while Tully shot from behind him. The chaos of killing was beautiful in a way, and I contributed to it by opening another’s veins as it ran at me. Blood spurted from its wounds, not fetid, just salt, copper, and that strong, meaty tang.

When the last monster fell, there were thirty of them on the ground, and we were all standing. More cheers sounded, as we’d just put down fifty Freaks. Not a bad day’s work. I was exhausted and drenched in blood, most of it not my own, but as I wiped my eyes, I knew the precious glow of satisfaction. The others looked as if they felt the same with the possible exception of Morrow. I couldn’t read him at all. The man was talented with a blade, but he didn’t show a warrior’s pride.

“Take these heads too,” I said. “Then add them to the pile.”

It took us the rest of the day to complete the burning and further into the night to post all the warning pickets around our base. A grisly job—Morrow and Tegan opted to remain at camp. By the time we returned, I was starving, filthy, and exhausted, but also hopeful. This was why the men had followed me from their homes. They didn’t care about the scale; they only wanted to kill Freaks. In some cases they wanted retribution. Others needed to feel like they were making the world a little safer. As for Morrow, I had no idea what he was doing here, but by firelight, he scribbled some notes in a book that he kept in his pocket.

There was a brook not far away, so Fade and I took some jugs to haul water for drinking and bathing. I didn’t think there would be more trouble—I suspected we’d cleared all the Freaks in the immediate area—but I was still on my guard as we pulled the full containers back toward camp. In the moonlight Fade looked as tired as I felt.

“How long are we staying?” he asked.

“Until they stop coming or we’re dead.”

“You think they’re capable of learning to fear us?”

“I hope so. I don’t know what else to do. When the horde marches this way, there will be no resisting them, unless you live in a place like Gaspard.”

“And most settlements aren’t so well positioned,” Fade said softly.

That bothered me. I saw Otterburn’s future for all unprotected towns, and I didn’t believe the Freaks would honor that bargain forever. That was a ploy to make the humans feel safe in the custody of monsters. To my mind, it was a way to get those residents used to the idea of bending at the knee—of being subjugated. I recalled the pens where the Freaks had kept humans—and how they’d treated Fade—which told me all I needed to know about their true intentions.

In this part of the forest, it was so dark, only slivers of moonlight trickling through the canopy, but for me, that was enough to make out the shapes of trees and the fans of the leaves, others with limbs full of prickling needles. I heard the distant bubble of the brook and the quiet chirrup of insects. The air smelled of sap and sweetness, crushed herbs and the slight musk of animal waste. Sour notes bled through from the distant fire, a smoky char full of burning bones.