Blood Traveler (Book 2 of Chronicles of Grey)

Chapter Eight

Having the son of the strigoi leader escorting us across the land was more helpful than even I had first imagined.

He didn't say much, simply motioned with his hand every once in a while when we met a place like a riverbank or a network of caves that made us choose which way to go. Once, while carrying a very grumpy Jazera down the mountain, he mumbled ho'la vohara multiple times, which translated directly into shiny lame dog, and roughly into something like pretty, useless bitch.

I chose not to inform Jazera of the translation when she gave me a questioning look.

However, silent (and rude) as he was, he was most certainly useful. 

I'd spent many trips in these lands while training with Jovian, and so I knew quite well how dangerous they were. Nahdiera seemed deadly for those whom spent their lives there, but I knew more than most anyone else how Nahdiera was truly a safe haven. The mountains surrounding its' borders truly did keep the dangers out. Without the mountains, the kingdom would have morphed into a massive hunting valley for the true horrors of the world.

Yet, other than the occasion bloodbat, we were left alone.

Oh, we felt the eyes on us, yes, most certainly. There were some nights where the group of us stayed awake, sitting back to back in a misshapen circle around the fire with our weapons in hand, eyes turned to the darkness. Other nights, we were startled awake to the sound of the strigoi hissing menacingly into the trees as a warning. For several days we had something following us as we roamed the land, something that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise each time those unseen eyes passed my way.

But with the Shadows and the strigoi, nothing dared approach us, leaving us feeling unsafe but unharmed just the same.

The only time we were in any real danger was when the strigoi suddenly up and left one night.

"Where are you going?" I'd called out.

"Hungry." He stated – the only word as of yet that he seemed to be able to speak in the common tongue.

I grimaced but let him go, ordering everyone on watch until his return.

Shortly afterwards, the goblins came.

We heard them before we saw them. It was not yet dark, but the sun was low enough in the sky that no sunlight was visibly shining anywhere in the our sight, which left several shadows in the trees and made one want to squint their eyes more so than if it were fully dark.

But their sound was more frightening anyway.

They called out in their voices, their language even closer to elven than the last hoard I'd heard. No longer did I hear only Meat! Meat to eat! But also extremely detailed descriptions of how they were going to rip the flesh from our bones, and was able to understand nearly word-for-word a particularly heated argument about which of us would taste the best.

As they came into sight, surrounding us completely up in the trees as well as on land, naked and grey as they handled their bows and poison-tipped arrows, I felt a greater fear than I had felt in a long time. Not because they were debating on killing us or not when this itself was unusual – goblins liked elven flesh far more than man or Shadow, but the elves were difficult to find as of late and they were hungrier than usual – but because of the memories of the kings maze.

Too well did I remember laying on the ground, seeing my escape only feet in front of me but unable to reach it. As I stood there with my sword in hand under the sound of arguing and nearly aroused sounds of descriptions, I could almost taste Arion's blood as it dripped onto my lips, and feel an echo of the painful poison flowing beneath my skin.