Elyon by Ted Dekker Page B

Shataiki at their heels. Shaeda dug into him, riding him like a horse to steer clear of the bats. Derias had relayed the order not to attack the humans, but the ranks were unstable, and the beasts kept breaking the line to harass them. The queen had taken the bait.
    And he was enraged.
    The bats roared around them, their wings like thunderclaps, darkening the sky further. Silvie scrambled ahead of Johnis and the others and went for the horses. She yelled.
    Shaeda’s power surged through him, charging his muscles and shoving blood through his body with enough force to mow down a Horde army.
    Johnis and Marak, still carrying Darsal, were only seconds behind. Sucrow straggled. Johnis tripped over something solid and fumbled. He rolled sideways and jumped back up, looked down.
    A horse’s leg bone. Grimacing, Johnis darted around the corpse. All three horses were completely torn to shreds and stripped of flesh.
    Marak’s knife was in his hand. He shifted his wriggling bundle over one shoulder. Disgusting, Johnis thought, holding an albino like that.
    “They did this?”
    “Better the horses than us. Can’t she walk?”
    With a snarl, Marak started back up the path, seething over the dead horses. Johnis hurried after him with Silvie and Sucrow.
    On and on they fled, breathless and fumbling in the unnatural night. Shaeda made Johnis swift and surefooted, skirting up the sides of the rock faces and canyon with ease. Twice the general stumbled with his burden, and twice Johnis caught him and helped him regain his footing.
    “Just leave her!” Johnis said the second time. They were halfway up, and the wench was only slowing them down. “Leave her already! How do you stand the smell of the worm?”
    Marak glowered at him. “She’ll die at the appointed time!”
    “So now you favor the albino,” Johnis snapped, appalled at the thought. Shaeda bared her teeth in scorn. “Will you be joining Eram’s ranks?”
    Marak struck him with his free hand. “Mind your tongue, boy. Bats or no, I’ll have your head and—”
    “You think you can destroy me?” Johnis rose from the ground. Shaeda bristled, terrified of the Shataiki and ready to engage any lesser being. This general was now simply a nuisance. Johnis’s hands curled like talons.
    Marak turned his back. “You can kill her with the others.”
    He marched on, heedless of the rest. Johnis started after him, compelled to tear the general’s heart out and feed it to Derias.
    Silvie grasped his shoulder. Shaeda tensed. “Enough,” Silvie said. “Deal with the albinos first. Then the general.”

fifteen
    D arsal regained consciousness while she was still slung over the general’s shoulder. She grunted as her teeth snapped together, chin bouncing off Marak. He took the final steps up the side of the canyon and set Darsal on her own two feet. With Shataiki still swarming in the cauldron, they hadn’t dared slow. Her head throbbed where she’d hit it. Blood caked the back of her neck.
    The blow she’d taken seemed to jar her general more than anything else.
    “Can you walk?” He had an edge to his voice. Who knew it would take a swarm of blood-lusty Shataiki to unnerve a general?
    Darsal staggered, wincing. “Of course I can walk.”
    Her general’s gaze lingered on her.
    His touch was astonishingly light. Those big hands that could crush held her steady with all the care one would give a newborn. His eyes were wild from the chase, lit with terror at the implications of the carnage these beasts could create.
    The Throaters were quiet, faces ashen and set like flint in an attempt to conceal their obvious fear. Good. Nothing like a trip to hell to put the fear of Elyon in a cutthroat.
    Sucrow stood gaping, awestruck by the sight of his master’s servants. The Dark Priest fell to his knees and uttered a prayer to his god, thanking him for their success thus far. Darsal frowned.
    “I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t sacrifice to Teeleh,” she scoffed.
    Johnis had