Three: Hidden Depths
The candles in the tent sputtered, yellow flames dancing.
The soft drip of blood from the end of my blade was the only sound, other than the heavy rasp of the Kahns’s breathing. Urksol’s black eyes held a reluctant respect as he shifted his weight. He grunted in pain, lips pulling back from teeth.
“So,” he growled, watching me with intensity. “You want to know why? Because human, it is the will of the Gods that it be so. They granted me power, gave me the right to rule over my people and claim dominion of this land. It is by their will your city fell.”
I snorted.
“Is it their will that you sit in a pile of your own filth and wait for death?”
Uksol smiled, his sharp teeth stained red.
“If that is their price,” he said. “Then I would pay it willingly. You humans follow the will of men – weak men who cannot see beyond their wants and earthly desires. Some grow fat and lazy, never knowing the true joy of battle.”
“There is no joy in battle,” I said. Urksol’s eyes glittered.
“Is there not? Are you to tell me you have never felt the rush of the fight? The surge of bloodlust and the satisfaction of seeing your enemies broken before you?”