The Savage Peak: A Morgalla prequel Page 6

  A rumbling in the ground made her take notice. Turned out it was the charging of the doxers racing by. Though they were far from the track, their feet thumping past at great speeds were felt by them. Both women laughed.

  “I missed that sound,” Delilah said.

  There was a crowd before them leading to the stands. Delilah instead grabbed Morgalla by the shoulders and took to the air.

  “Hey, no fair,” someone called.

  Delilah laughed as she flew to the top of the bleachers where both women took a seat. They looked to the field. Delilah’s interest was much greater than Morgalla’s, but with the excitement of each race, the young demon couldn’t help but join in on the enthusiasm.

  “Does the winner get anything?” Morgalla asked.

  “Bragging rights from the trainer and owner mostly, but they primarily have wagers against one another. But it’s really the loser that people are most interested in.”

  “The loser?”

  “They kill and roast the loser.”

  “What?”

  After the races, Delilah led Morgalla to the stables where the doxers were kept. Morgalla could tell her mistress had recognized another face and had to say hello to him. As the two talked in a foreign dialect, Morgalla took a moment to get closer to the doxers. The stable had a very high ceiling, and the compartments were of varying sizes, some very large.

  She peeked in and saw a doxer nursing a litter of hungry pups.

  “Awww…” Morgalla said.

  Hearing a defensive growl from the mother, Morgalla backed off.

  She walked down the stalls, keeping her distance from them. Sure, she was curious, but she was also cautious. She sensed there were animals within the stable, but their mood was in question. A doxer peeked out of his stall which Morgalla gave a jump. The beast’s four eyes gleamed at her, but Morgalla could tell what his soul was feeling.

  He’s glad to see me.

  Without fear, she approached the animal with her hand extended.

  “Hi there.”

  The doxer licked her hand, and she laughed. She used her other hand to pet his long snout.

  Morgalla’s happy mood was interrupted by a loud, booming voice. She spun around and saw a massive demon at the entrance to the stable. He was filthy from his work. His tiny, golden eyes burned at her. He roared in his native tongue, and Morgalla stepped away from the doxer, her hands raised.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The demon continued to shout at her, his bulbous body stomping forward. She didn’t know what he was saying, but it was clear he was enraged.

  Morgalla was about to run away as fast as she could when another voice bellowed out. She turned and saw someone who was the exact opposite of the demon whom she’d enraged. He was dressed as a noble, clothes pressed and clean; his shirt was glistening silver, and his black vest was decorated in gold. He had light purple skin and large, pointed ears. His long, black hair was shining, and his swagger was that of a creature with no shortage of confidence, but it wasn’t until he got closer that Morgalla noticed how young he was. He had to have been around her age.

  He shouted commands to the demon and the servant complied, though his eyes still burned at Morgalla. The beast of a demon walked away, and her savior turned with a smile on his face, exposing his pearly whites.

  “Apologies, he’s rather protective of his beasts.”

  “Um…thanks. I was just petting one of them.”

  He shrugged. “No harm was done.” He extended his hand. “Vex.”

  She took his hand and shook it. “Morgalla.”

  She noticed the emblem around his neck, how it was different from Delilah’s.

  “Are you here with someone?” he asked.

  “With Delilah.”

  Morgalla looked around, saw her mistress, and pointed.

  “Yes, with Zorach.”

  Morgalla stammered. “I uh…well…”

  “Relax.” He chuckled. “I’m not one to start fights for no reason.”

  He was speaking the truth and his soul beamed with a sort of joy that made Morgalla smile.

  “Finally, someone with a little sense.”

  Vex’s laugh bellowed out through the stable. “Yes, well, it is the way of things, sadly. Say, I don’t suppose you’d…”

  “Morgalla,” Delilah called out.

  They both turned and saw Delilah running towards them. When she was in their presence, Delilah beamed a look of contempt to Vex who stood with his arms crossed, a smirk on his face.

  “Well, well.” Delilah started. “Looks like Vex has come from under his father’s shadow.”

  “You know what they say about shadows, Delilah? How easy it is to disappear in them.”

  He smirked at her, his confidence swelled within, but Delilah didn’t back down.

  “Did your doxer win today?”

  “My doxer always wins.”

  “You mean your family’s, that is.”

  Morgalla didn’t join in at all. She couldn’t understand why Delilah was so confrontational to someone who didn’t try to assault her. On the contrary, he was actually helping her. Every comment was like a needle to either of them. Delilah didn’t seem affected, but her comments were taking their toll on Vex.

  “How are your brothers?” Delilah asked.

  In an instant, the mood of the young demon shifted. Delilah had scored a direct hit.

  “Dead.”

  “Really? Surprising. They were so skilled with a blade. They actually fell to a superior warrior?”

  “I avenged Verik’s killer.”

  “Yes, I heard.” Delilah mocked. “Stabbing someone in the back is so courageous, isn’t it?”

  The rage built within Vex’s soul and was written in his eyes. A soul so young was easily malleable to someone as skilled as Delilah.

  “Dead is dead,” Vex snapped.

  Delilah smirked. “If you say so.”

  It was clear to Morgalla that her mentor knew more than she was leading on to the young demon. She used knowledge of Vex’s family as a weapon against him. Vex still had an ace up his sleeve.

  “I suppose it could be worse. One’s soul could be…pure.”

  He looked for a moment to Morgalla then back to Delilah. It was clear to them all to whom he was speaking. Delilah remained unfazed on the surface, but Vex had delivered a mighty blow. Morgalla was confused.

  “Now get out of my stable,” Vex commanded.

  Delilah smirked. “Daddy’s shadow is so comforting.”

  Delilah commanded Morgalla to follow, and they both turned to leave. As they reached the end of the stable, Delilah had one more observation.

  “By the way, your other brother was killed by humans. That’s gotta sting.”

  There were hardly any words for the rest of the day, but Morgalla could tell that Delilah was angered by their encounter. During dinner, Delilah finally broke the silence.

  “If that blue-blood snob ever touches you, you will kill him. Understand?”

  “What did he mean by pure?”

  Delilah ignored her question. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, okay, I’ll do…whatever. What did he mean by his pure comment?”

  Delilah sighed and leaned in to quietly speak to her student. “You have yet to get a kill, Morgalla. Surely you’ve sensed the black mark on the souls of others around you?”

  “Well, maybe.”

  She had to think about it, never having paid attention to it.

  “Morgalla, everyone can see it. The fact that you’re yet to get your first kill. It is like a beacon.”

  “You were afraid of it.”

  Delilah looked away.

  “Wait a minute,” Morgalla added. “Are you ashamed?”

  “I just knew those monks would corrupt you.”

  “Corrupt? Just because I’ve never killed anyone?”

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “What’s the point if everyone knows this anyway?”

  “You ju
st…don’t get it, do you?” Delilah asked.

  “Obviously not.”

  Delilah paused and searched for the words to help convince her. “All around you are people with the same skills as you. They can see into your very soul, Morgalla, and if they sense even a bit of weakness, they will prey upon it. You must use your anger and hate as a shield, but it can only do so much.”

  “And killing someone will somehow fix all this?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt.”

  Delilah turned her back, which was just fine for Morgalla who did the same. Both of them went to bed angry, camping for the night.

  6

  Arena

  Morgalla woke to the scuttling of some rodents searching for their breakfast. The muscles of her hand flexed around the grip of her knife as her eyes flew open. She didn’t sense anyone or anything dangerous around. Breathing a sigh, she plucked a black apple from a branch and hopped down from her hammock and found a note:

  Meet me at Nathrak Castle—D

  She recognized the handwriting as Delilah’s and wondered why she had left early. Morgalla gathered her things and set off to the castle. Arriving, she saw that it was more of a manor, but she guessed the word castle sounded more impressive.

  Several demons were playing a game of some sort. Morgalla kept her cloak concealing her arms for the time being until they saw her. They must have sensed how uneasy she felt because when she got close enough, they all looked at her. There was no bloodlust among them, and she lowered her guard though her hand remained on the blade handle.

  A guard was leaning against the doorway. He saw her and did nothing.

  “I think I’m expected?” she asked.

  He smirked and motioned for her to enter.

  The manor was beautiful with a floor of black stone lined with gold. The elegant wood had detailed images carved within. Morgalla approached one and ran her fingers over the elaborate detail. She sensed someone coming down the main staircase and saw a male who motioned for her to follow him.

  Morgalla did so, walking with the demon through the manor. There was no malice with his soul or his intentions, almost as if he were a blank canvas.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “I was not told,” the servant replied. “And I did not ask.”

  “Of course.”

  “You will learn that questions are a bad thing around here.”

  Morgalla was led to a set of large doors at the end of a darkened hallway. The doors opened, and light filtered in, but she froze. There was that feeling again, same with the demon from before who’d tried to kill her. Bloodlust was present. She looked at the servant who was blind to what awaited, but he sensed it too.

  Morgalla was about to turn and walk away, but she saw the doors at the opposite end of the hallway had closed. Under her cloak, she gripped her knife tightly and was ready to summon Hero at the next sign of danger. She saw no choice as she crept through the door and entered the arena. The ground was covered in a gravel-like substance, and it looked filthy. A high, circular stone wall surrounded her. Seats ascended like stairs all around with entrances up at the top.

  Morgalla saw Makraka and Delilah at the top row talking. Their attention turned to her when they sensed she had entered. Some other demons were in attendance, but most of the seats were empty.

  There was a young male at the opposite end of the arena. He was dressed in light clothes with no armor. The sword in his hand, and the fact he was warming up, made her take notice. He was fast and skilled. He had an entourage with him…many in the stands and a couple in the arena. They whispered things to him, psyching him up for what was to come.

  The male was about the same age as Morgalla, if she had to guess, and the fact he didn’t have horns was a clue. His skin was dark red, his hair black and tied into a tail in the back. His gaze was locked on her, the bloodlust strongest with him.

  A female approached him, also young. She shot a look of contempt at Morgalla. The female had a narrow, lovely face with delicate features, red skin and orange eyes. Her black hair was tied into elaborate braids laced with gold. Small, white horns adorned her forehead at her hairline.

  Seeing Delilah, Morgalla jumped up the wall and held on to the top. Two of Makraka’s servants saw what she was doing and shoved her off. They leapt into the arena with her, weapons drawn.

  “Up,” one commanded. “Cloak off.”

  With hesitation, she did what she was told.

  “How many weapons do you have?” the other demon asked.

  “Only one,” Morgalla replied.

  The demon growled. “You lie.”

  She felt the slap to her face and fell back again. Morgalla sneered at them both, anger enveloping her soul. They chuckled, her anger amusing. She tossed them her knife, choosing instead to use Hero.

  All in attendance took their places among the stands, and Morgalla found herself alone with the young male. Sweat already decorated his light red skin, burning his yellow eyes. Now that she had a good look at him, she could tell he was actually younger than her.

  Morgalla looked up at Delilah who had found a seat in the front row.

  “What the hell is going on?” Morgalla demanded.

  “A matter of honor, child. For your own good.”

  “My own good? He’s looking to kill me, and this is for my own good?”

  “Makraka’s last son, Harek. He has yet to get his first kill too.”

  “And what if he kills me?”

  “I have taught you too well. But you must not hesitate.”

  Morgalla glanced over her shoulder. She saw Harek embrace a young woman and kiss her.

  “That is Xia, his betrothed,” Delilah said. “It is she who he is fighting for, his source of strength. You must find your source as well. It will keep you alive.”

  “Yeah, the fact that I don’t wanna die…”

  Morgalla sensed the coming attack and ducked, Harek’s blade swung where her head had been just an instant earlier. She rolled and was on her feet immediately. Hero emerged and was in her clenched fist.

  Her opponent approached, kicking some gravel at her. For a moment she was blinded. He came at her slashing. Morgalla had to use every bit of skill she had to dodge and block his attacks. Metal clashed against metal as the small audience looked on with great interest.

  Sparring with Delilah was very different than this. She could feel the intensity of the kill emanating from Harek’s soul. Her heart raced, and her breath came quickly. His attacks were strong, and she felt the impact of his blade send shocks up her arm.

  Morgalla wanted to scream as he hacked and slashed away at her. He finally disarmed her. Hero changed back to a medallion and was lost among the gravel. The audience laughed, all except Delilah.

  Morgalla rolled again, barely avoiding a slashing sword. She saw for a moment the look of disappointment on Delilah’s face. Makraka stood at the top with his arms crossed, a permanent frown on his face.

  The light gleamed from her medallion and Morgalla could see where Hero had landed. He was behind Harek.

  “You don’t want to do this any more than I do,” Morgalla said.

  “It is a matter of honor, and you will not convince me otherwise.”

  He swung his blade and Morgalla ducked. She connected with a hit to the young demon’s face. She kicked the weapon from his hand and leapt, her legs scissoring his neck. They both came down to the gravel, and Morgalla could feel the joy springing forth from Delilah’s soul.

  “So, you’re going to fight for the entertainment of others?” Morgalla asked him.

  Harek struggled to speak. “It’s not amusement…but honor.”

  “That word again…don’t be an idiot.”

  Harek sank his teeth into her calf, and she cried out. She had no choice but to release him with a swift kick to his face, bloodying his nose. They were both to their feet, and Morgalla saw her medallion. She dove and Hero was unsheathed in an instant, ready for action. When she turned, she noticed h
er foe was defenseless. His weapon was on the ground, and Morgalla stood between him and his only hope of victory. She could easily feel the fear from his soul, and they stood frozen looking at each other.

  Delilah’s hands clenched, her eyes intense to her student.

  Do it…Do it.

  “We can walk away from this,” Morgalla said.

  “You’re not serious.”

  Morgalla felt the shock from the majority of the audience because she hadn’t killed him, but there was one who was terrified. She could only see for a brief moment a young female in the audience, the same age as Harek.

  Harek took a step, and Morgalla matched him.

  “Walk away,” Morgalla said.

  Harek sneered and spat a mouthful of blood to the ground. “Disgusting.”

  The audience echoed audible sounds of disapproval. Morgalla didn’t care, but Harek charged at her. With his neck and chest wide open, she could have killed him then and there, but she didn’t. He attacked her, striking and forcing his way past. Morgalla fell back, and Harek had armed again.

  Delilah was angry.

  Their swords clashed again, and Morgalla quickly had to find a way to fight him. This battle was different than any time before. He was stronger than her and very quick. Letting his blade strike hers was a waste of her energy. She had discovered that dodging his attacks was far better, but even then she would soon grow tired. He roared with each slash and found nothing but air.

  Their skills showed years of dedicated training, but Harek’s dueling included more anger. Morgalla was scared. Surely they all felt it, but her will to survive was strong. She flinched at a punch to her midsection but knew it was only a ruse. Blocking his real attack, the sword came to her neck, and he punched her face. Falling back again, she felt the wall behind her.

  He lunged but missed. Morgalla used his momentum to bring his face to the stone. There was a crack, and Harek’s nose was broken. His back open to attack, she could finish this but didn’t. She stalked to the middle of the arena, wiping sweat from her brow.

  Harek held his nose. Blood flowed down his mouth and chin. Morgalla made eye contact with the young female in the audience. The fear was written on her face as her eyes locked on Harek. The girl then looked at Morgalla, and her expression changed to anger.