Chapter Text
Khonsu wiped the blood from his face, his eyes staring down at the dead, and bludgeoned Deeprat. A book was held tightly by the dead antiquarian; even after death, they still covet Cthonia’s history—her story.
“…” Khonsu stayed silent, his eyes focusing on their pale, dead eyes; once filled with life and hunger for knowledge, now cold and aimless due to his mace. He took no joy in murder, nor did he take joy in their screams, but he will do what is needed to survive.
With a flick of his wrist, his makeshift mace, the jagged pieces of steel welded on spat the pieces of pale flesh, and fresh blood.
The already bloody tunic of the dead Deeprat was stained further, with the raggedy, and rotting leather cover of the book shielding what little unstained area was left—as if protecting the man.
“…”
He took no joy in murder, yet he does not withhold pity. For like him, the Deeprat was born and raised, deep in Cthonia’s stony womb, doing what they must to survive.
“Rest in her hearth,” whispered Khonsu to the dead Deeprart. It was an imitation of the rites he'd heard and seen in whispers, given to their fallen kin. “And she will guide you.”
He never did understand what those words meant, he was a Reiver, not a Deeprat—survival was far more important than anything, kin be damned—but Khonsu did know that it was important to them. Somehow.
…
The sound of dripping blood melded with his sigh, an ugly thought reared its head through, yet before it could even break through, he heard familiar sounds. He heard the faint, and shallow grunts and croaks of a man.
“Hngh..!”
Khonsu's head turned to the side—an old man was held high by the neck—it was the Deeprat’s chieftain held by Overlord Khageddon, leader of the Reiver clan. Both were bloody. But as far as Khonsu could tell, the blood wasn’t the Overlord’s.
Khonsu could not see the Overlord’s expression through the curtain of hair, but he could tell one thing: the hunt was over. The Deeprats lost. They were no more. Cthonia’s cycle took its course. Violence and death.
The Deeprat’s cavern, and its richness was theirs to keep—or whatever weapon was theirs to keep—while the well of knowledge they kept on Cthonia’s history would be destroyed due to its irrelevance.
Khonsu placed his unequipped hand on the corpse’s tunic, the cold blood staining his fingers. He straightened his back, and he began dragging the corpse towards the open volcanic fissure.
The heat grew and grew, the blood that painted him in splotches had dried. The crack that revealed a piece of Cthonia’s hearth.
Thump. Khonsu’s head turned to stare at the faint sound, the sudden change in weight being worth his attention. His eyes scanned the corpse—the book had fallen—the spindly digits having let go of it. An odd emotion was present, but he shrugged, not requiring it at the moment.
He then returned his attention to the cliff, his march continued.
The heat he felt—it burned him. Yet he did not stop, as he reached the final edge—he grunted, and with all his might—he threw the corpse. The Deeprat burned and charred, the pale and dying flesh being reduced to ash.
“Rest,” he said the final word he would give to the Deeprat.
“Reivers! Blood has answered for blood!” shouted Khageddon, drawing the attention of not only Khonsu, but the rest of the preoccupied Reivers. The clan—those that had earned their blood-name—began gathering around the Overlord.
Briefly, before Khonsu arrived at the inner circle around the Overlord, his eyes glanced at where the book had fallen—it was gone. Who would’ve taken it? It was certainly none of the other Reivers… Could it have been?
…
No, whoever had taken interest in the book, it was no concern to Khonsu. Right now, he aims to participate with his kin in the howl—the only ritual deemed necessary by the Reivers, funnily enough. He crouched, and with the rising rhythm from his kin—he slammed the palm of his free hand and the pommel of his mace.
A low growl left his throat, his vocal cords reverberating as an animalistic call was let out, melding with the rest of the Reivers.
This was a howl. The only sign of camaraderie that the Reivers show.
…
The howl continued for a few more minutes. A few minutes of warmth in the cold, and cruel world of Cthonia. It was appreciated.
“AEBATHAN!” roared Khageddon, his ritual blade being placed on the chieftain’s neck.
“Ple-ease…” the Chieftain’s eyes widened with desperation.
Khonsu watched as the Deeprat tried to claw away Overlord Khageddon’s hand, his fingers barely even able to move the overlord’s tight grip. The chieftain’s eyes flickered to the people around him, silently pleading and begging for mercy—for sympathy.
Yet no one will give what he yearns for. The tribe he leads, the Deeprats, are gone. No one remained to reciprocate—the only mercy left him for him was death—and Overlord Khageddon will grant it so.
“Rest in her hearth,” recited Khonsu with no words, his eyes softening as he watched the final moments of the chieftain. “And she will guide you.”
Khageddon’s ritual blade pierced the chieftain’s neck, its smooth, yet sharp blade sawing through the flesh. The chieftain’s face slowly lost its color, eyes widening as he choked on his own blood.
It took no less than a few seconds for the Overlord to cut through the neck— thud! , and it took less than that for the head to fall and roll into the fissure.
Overlord Khageddon, his face still unseen through the long hair that shadowed his face, raised the corpse. The blood that spewed from it bathed Khageddon.
After a few seconds or so, the fountain of blood had slowed. Overlord Khageddon let go of the corpse—the Deeprats burned like their chieftain—to be forgotten.
Khonsu remained, his posture straight as he stared at the Overlord—the man stood over the cliff, his attention focused on the magma below. Khonsu knew better than to leave early, after all, doing so would have incurred the wrath of the Overlord for disobedience.
“Scout,” called Overlord Khageddon, his voice deep and cold.
Khonsu took a step forward. His free hand slammed on his chest— thump !
“Here, Overlord Khageddon,” replied Khonsu, bowing his head.
Overlord Khageddon turned his head to Khonsu, his barely seen metallic eye shining through as he towered over Khonsu. The scout trembled as he felt the heavy gaze of the intimidating man, instinct telling him to not even move, as he felt death would swiftly come down on him. But Khonsu knew the Overlord to a degree, and he was, if not sadistic—he was pragmatic. He knew of Khonsu’s worth, and as such, he wouldn’t kill him so easily. Not yet .
“The Deeprats are no more,” stated Overlord Khageddon, his head returning its focus to the fissure. The statement, based on the overlord’s tone, was more of a question.
“Yes, Overlord Khageddon,” replied Khonsu. “They have been hunted, and slaughtered. No escape routes went unguarded at its maw.” The raid done by the Reivers was gruesome, and practically a slaughter. They had blocked out every path for escape the Deeprats had. Their weapons were the only way out.
“...”
Overlord Khageddon stayed silent, his form unflinching and unmoving. Khonsu couldn’t help but squirm under the silence. If not for the murmurs of his fellow clansmen some distance away, Khonsu might’ve crumpled under the pressure, easily earning him pain.
Then, the Overlord spoke:
“Prepare what you need. The Searedfangs have grown confident,” he did not move as he said those words. But Khonsu knew what would happen next.
“Will be done, Overlord Khageddon.” replied Khonsu, the hand over his chest being slammed again as affirmation. His next mission.
The Searedfangs are the next target for the Reivers.
They will hunt them down.
They will slaughter them.
And once it all ends…
They will break their fangs.
“This should last me at least three moons, I think,” pondered Khonsu, his mind trying to simulate the progression of the coming nights. The amount of food needed. The possible route to be traveled. Everything he needed.
Khonsu sat on a rock, his back resting on the cavern’s stony walls. His hands were busy as he examined his haul—he had just enough to go forward with the scouting mission. Though the only issue was that his pouch was ragged, and if he wasn’t careful enough, would snap and tear like bones and flesh under his mace.
“Hey, I think I saw the no-name .”
Khonsu’s ears perked as he heard a young voice, his head lifting to stare at the source of the voice—it was the recent new-bloods—three to four years younger than him, if he remembered correctly.
“What do you think she’s doing?” one of the girls in the group asked, a mischievous smile present on her face.
“Hmph, who cares what she does! She’s at our cave!” one of the identical-looking boys sneered.
“He must be the leader,” noted Khonsu, the boy’s physical position in the group gave enough to tell. His brows then furrowed, if he was listening at them correctly, “Why are they messing with Nergüi?”
As far as Khonsu could remember, she was a marked clansman—a person who had value, and as such, shouldn’t be harassed or harmed unless you wish to earn the ire of the Overlord. It was usually people like shamans, weaponsmiths, rat breeders, scouts, and mechanics. Though Nergüi was neither of those.
She was simply a child that Overlord Khageddon had brought back after a raid, and as the elder scouts had told in story, she was found hanging on a meat hook, with her body filled to the brim with scars and stitches. A shiver went down his spine.
Her odd origins aside, she was also an oddity within the Reavers. She looked far more exotic than the rest of her kinsmen—brown eyes in the sea of pale eyes. She was ostracized for it. It doesn’t help that she has yet to earn her kill-name either, and to add fuel, Overlord Khageddon himself prohibited it.
It was an honest mystery, and no one cares enough to ask these questions. Well, except for…
“I should finish preparations, I just need one of the Deeprat’s pouch,” he snapped himself out of the flowing thoughts, his focus returning to his scouting mission.
His eyes then widened as the group of four had disappeared, presumably going down the tunnel to chase out Nergüi.
“Maybe,” he sighed, an odd emotion clawed itself out of Khonsu. “I should check that tunnel over there. If I remember correctly, one of the Deeprats storage chambers was somewhere down there…”
Khonsu, after reaching the group of four, started quietly trailing them, a few meters back. His steps were careful and silent as he expressed his expertise in scouting. His face was still, yet internally he was panicking and scolding himself.
“Stupid frakking,” his internal voice cursed, a crashing tide of emotions colliding with each other. “Why am I even doing this?! I don’t even know Nergüi!”
In the years that Khonsu had been in the Reivers, he had barely even interacted with Nergüi, save for the few moments where he had to chase away the people ignoring her being a marked one. But it was just a few!
So why?
Why was he here: trailing a group of new-bloods, who simply mentioned the name of a runt with ill intent. That was it!
So why ?! Why is he doing this?!
“Well look at the freak!”said Kaaramat—as Khonsu had picked up—the leader of the group. “Talking to yourself again?”
Khonsu snapped out of his irritation and anger, his eyes widening as he saw the tunnel’s end—a large cavern that had dozens of well preserved murals—of which had the stains of the Deeprats’ blood everywhere.
There, by the wall was Nergüi and Kaaramat’s group, with the latter surrounding the former. Khonsu wasn’t sure what they were holding, but he could clearly see Nergüi holding onto the rotten book that went missing as he dragged the corpse. He was right…
“What are you doing here, no-name ?” demanded Kaaramat.
“Nothing,” replied Nergüi, the book she had held being placed down to the side. “Just looking around, why does it matter?”
This seemed to have ticked off Kaaramat, as his form started shaking.
“It matters, because you shouldn’t be here. No-name .”
“And why not?”
“Because this is my cave, now!”
“Is it?”
The next thing that happened was that Kaaramat had gripped Nergüi by the collar of her tunic, and with force, slammed Nergüi to the wall— thud! It seemed like Nergüi had carved a bit too much on Kaaramat, or Kaaramat in particular was of softer skin.
“Kara!” reprimanded Nyla. “You’re going to kill her! She’s marked! Marked!’
Quickly, Nyla tried to claw Karaamat’s hands from Nergüi. Brief glimpses of her face being seen—she was worried. Her efforts though, were in vain, as Kaaramat simply pushed her away.
“Don’t stop me!” spat Kaaramat, his head turning to Nyla before returning his gaze to Nergüi. “The no-name has gotten cocky! She should learn her place!”
From Kaaramat’s side, his hook-like knife was pulled out. The rusted blade was placed on her neck, a growl being heard from Kaaramat. Blood was spilled.
In that moment Khonsu stilled, his eyes widening as the beats of his heart meshed with his breathing. A rational portion of his mind yelled for him to leave before he did something stupid, yet that rationality collided with an unknown voice that screamed in equal, if not larger, volume.
A war of conflicting decisions, to follow the voice or to follow duty..
…
Let it be known, Khonsu was a rational person.