The Warlord and the Assassin: A Fantasy Romance Novella (10 page)

BOOK: The Warlord and the Assassin: A Fantasy Romance Novella
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“If your civilization means living off the flesh and sweat and blood of the Western tribes, so your people can prosper, then you can go to hell, Eratean.” Tarak lifted his blade. He stared into Garul’s pale eyes and could almost taste the man’s death. His pulse quickened with the beat of the war drums.
 

His killing intent washed around Garul and the man froze. Tarak’s blood sang, howling for Garul’s death.
 

“I gave you a chance to retreat, Eratean. But you chose to return, seeking more, always more. Greed will be your nation’s undoing, Jerik Garul.”

Mingled with Garul’s hatred was an undercurrent of fear, naked and raw. Tarak sensed it, savored it. He brought his sword down in a swift, killing arc.
 

Garul’s head flew from his shoulders.

Another Eratean Lord, toppled from his minor throne.

As Tarak stared at his blank, lifeless features, he wondered if his bloody path would ever end.
 

Perhaps he was merely the catalyst. Perhaps his job was to carve the way. But someday, the Akuna would need a leader.

Warlords didn’t rule. If peacetime ever came, he would be irrelevant.

Tarak bent, lifting Garul’s severed head from the ground. It would be a fitting message from the Akuna to the Erateans.
 

The Western Borderlands no longer belonged to the Empire.

~~~

Amina watched as her Warlord lifted the head of the slain Eratean commander. He turned to where she stood on the balcony, as the battle swirled around them. Erateans and Akuna alike were falling, but the majority of the victims on the battlefield wore the red and white of the Eratean Empire.

An expression like regret crossed Tarak Chul’s face.
 

A shadow of doubt and self-loathing crept into his gaze.

And as quickly as the look appeared, it was gone, replaced with steely resolve.
 

This was war. Jerik Garul was simply another soldier, a victim of an endless crusade between nations and empires.

And where did Tarak fit into it all?

He was the agent of change, the liberator.
 

He was a savage warrior, a cunning leader. And he was Akuna to the core, a true son of the Lost Tribe.

He was a killer, like her.

And she had chosen to follow him to Varanada, leaving her forest and her tribe behind.
 

Amina had known it when they made love for the first time. She had known that they were made for each other, and that she would follow him to the edge of the continent.
 

She would follow him no matter how bloody the path he carved. Because the man who had just beheaded Jerik Garul had shown her patience and kindness and restraint, even though she was a killer. And she knew he would never hurt her.
 

As she met Tarak’s gaze, he lowered Garul’s head, trying to hide it from her somehow, as if ashamed. Then, he averted his eyes. For the first time, he looked tired.
 

Amina leapt over the railing and ran to him.
 

Tarak laid Garul’s severed head beside the Eratean’s body and turned to her. “You know, Amina, after your first attempt on my life, I wondered if I could accomplish anything without bloodshed. It seems I can’t.”

“You let him go the first time.” Amina stared down at Garul’s lifeless figure. His pale, grey eyes looked up at her, sightless and dull. “He chose to come back. They should leave our people and our lands. You were right when you told me I needed to think more. You’re right to drive them out, Tarak.”

“But is the path to victory even worse than no victory at all?”

“I don’t know the answer to that, lover.” Amina ran her hands down his arm, gently untangling his fingers from the hilt of his sword. She took the sword from him. “But I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to give life back. To those who have suffered, to the sons and daughters who have been sold into slavery. To the native tribes of the west who have had their waters poisoned and their strongest men slaughtered. Even to we Inue, who hid in the forest for years, afraid to leave for fear we would be massacred or captured by the Erateans. We’ve become a shadow of the tribe we once were, too afraid to help our Varanese brothers and sisters. Blood for blood, Tarak Chul.” Amina took his hand into hers. Dried, darkening blood stained his fingers. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see it.”

“Don’t you dare apologize, little Inue.” Tarak tried to pull his hand away, but Amina gripped it tighter.
 

“I’ll let that slide just this once,” she murmured, not caring that her fingers were now also stained with blood.

“You know I won’t stop until all of the Western Nations are free of Eratean occupation.”
 

“I know, Tarak.”

“I’m not perfect, Amina.”

“I know, Tarak. Neither am I. I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

“I don’t care. I need you, my fierce, beautiful, brave Inue. Torture me, kill me, poison me if you will, but I need you, Amina.”

“There will be no more poison. My employer is dead. I’m not bound to seek your death anymore,
Katach
.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

As Amina entangled her fingers with his, she realized the drums of war had stopped. Silence fell across the courtyard, now a field of slaughter, as the Akuna warriors navigated past the bodies.
 

They hadn’t left a single Eratean alive.

In the blue sky above, a lone crow circled, before it was joined by another, and another. More crows joined the fray, until there were hundreds of black birds swirling above.
 

Slowly, she led Tarak Chul, Warlord of the Akuna and her onetime enemy, across the battlefield, and for the first time in her life, she said a silent prayer to Ojara, the Goddess of Life.

She prayed for her to have mercy on the souls of the dead, and to grant them swift passage into the afterlife.

As if sensing her thoughts, Tarak squeezed his bloody hand around hers, giving her small comfort amidst the chaos.
 

Above them, crows started to swoop down from the sky, braving the battlefield. And once again, the endless cycle of life and death moved on.

BOOK: The Warlord and the Assassin: A Fantasy Romance Novella
6.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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