Belly of the Beast Warren Thomas (e novels for free .txt) 📖

had sifted through all their thoughts and knowledge, or so they believed. Tane, at least, was convinced of it, and she saw no reason to argue the point. Dakar was a God, and quite capable of doing far more than reading their minds.

            “What do you want to know?” she asked, unable to keep the quiver out of her voice.

            She had no intention of helping them, but if they were foolish enough to believe her lies...

            “Where are the others?” the priest said, squatting in front of her.

            “I don’t know. We split up when your patrol attacked us. I was trying to escape, to get away.”

            “Where are you to meet them? Where will they go when you don’t show up?”

            “I don’t know. We haven’t been planning that far ahead,” she said. “We didn’t anticipate breaking up like that.”

            “What was your destination?”

            Did he truly not know? Was it a trick question? Was it a question meant to test her, to see if she was telling the truth? If they did know, and were only testing her, then she could buy her friends some time by revealing their ultimate destination and then add some lies about route and such that would lead pursuit astray. But if the priest didn’t know they were bound for Caeren, then she would seriously jeopardize their safety by telling the truth.

            The subtle tightening of fists alerted her to growing anger among the mercenaries. The priest’s jaw tightened as well, a coldness entering his eyes. Undoubtedly their thoughts concerning her options were following the same the same path.

            “I see we’re going to do this the hard way,” the priest said.

Chapter 73

            Her leg sinking knee-deep in the icy mud, Raven grumbled another curse upon the countless “feeble-minded” zombies that had caused the problem. Stripped of their wits, zombies didn’t have the personal initiative to build fires. Instead, they milled around and stamped their feet in near fruitless attempts to stay warm. All that their efforts accomplished was to churn more and deeper mud. In the few short hours since sneaking into the encampment, she had seen scores of dead zombies, killed by exposure.

            Bulling her way out of the mud hole, she sloshed onward, towards their next rally point. She could see the cleft in the tree line above, and across a sea of icy mud and brainless humanity.

            She stepped into deep puddle of slush and mud. Icy water and mud splashed over the top of her thigh boots, saturating the lower half of her priestly robes, and elicited more muttered curses. The boots were soaked through, and now half filled with water. Even when she came across the occasional dry patch of ground, she still sloshed on. In truth, though, she was glad for a reason to forsake the tall boots. Thigh boots were for riding, not marching. She had made a mistake (though would’ve sworn vehemently to the contrary if asked) and her feet had become blistered early on.

            Raven was intent on acquiring a pair of marching boots from one of the mercenaries before she left the encampment, even though she planned to ride the remainder of the trip. One never knew when she would be forced to abandon her mount for stealthier walking.

            “Make way!” a woman’s strident voice demanded.

            Raven only had time to glance behind her before a huge bay destrier splashed by, flinging water and mud all over her.

            “Halt!” Raven demanded.

            The rider, a blonde woman in the black and gray of Dakar’s mercenaries, reined in before her. She tried to act unperturbed, but Raven noted the fear in her dark blue eyes. Seeing that, Raven leveled blazing green eyes on the hapless woman.

            “Dakar damn you, woman! You did that on purpose!” Raven cried. “Get down off that horse this instant!”

            The woman all but fell off the horse in her haste to comply. Raven secretly smiled, seeing the woman’s hands tremble slightly. Her accent said she was a city born Jarlander, probably from the northwestern region.

            “Your Grace, I beg forgiveness,” she stammered, looking around for salvation of any sort. Suddenly, anger swelled up from deep down. Pointing at a nearby clump of zombies, she blurted, “Those damnable, brainless bastards spooked my horse. I tried to warn you – ”

            “Enough,” Raven growled.

            With the woman just two paces before her, Raven was able to determine that they were of a size. She had a fine destrier, and a better than average set of armor. And she wore marching boots.

            Spying a nearby tent, Raven pointed and said, “Get inside.”

            Fear engulfed the woman’s face, but she tied off her horse and entered the tent. Raven followed her in, hoping the tent was unoccupied. It was.

            “I should lay you across the altar,” Raven said as soon as the flap was lowered. “But I have a better way to punish your insolence. Strip.”

            The woman gawked at her a moment, made some feeble protest about preferring men, then began removing her armor and clothes. Raven waited patiently, but kept the anger in her own eyes. It wasn’t hard, since this woman had betrayed Raven’s beloved Arisen Gods. Most woman warriors were devotees of Ashtar, meaning she had forsaken Raven’s own personal Goddess.

            “Kneel,” Raven commanded when the woman was naked.

            The woman fell to her knees without question or hesitation.

            Raven promptly kicked the mercenary between the eyes, hard. Pulling her dagger, Raven made to slit the unconscious woman’s throat. Witnesses left behind were all too frequently fatal mistakes. But Raven hesitated, strangely horrified by her own intentions.

            “Shining Gods, what a lousy time to develop a conscious,” he muttered. “But dammit...”

            She quickly bound and gagged the mercenary. When they destroyed Dakar, the woman and her comrades would be taken care of by the local authorities. And if they managed to escape justice, then the Gods would tend to their eternal punishments.

            Shucking the priestly robes,