Chapter 30 Galthan
GALTHAN
The sound hits my consciousness like a war hammer to the skull—boots crashing through undergrowth, metal scraping against leather, voices barking commands with military precision. My eyes snap open to chaos erupting around our sanctuary.
"There! The traitor and his whore!"
Six warriors burst into the grove like a pack of hunting wolves, torchlight dancing off drawn blades. I recognize the lead figure—Krugg, one of Rytha's personal guards, his scarred face twisted with righteous fury.
Thalia jerks awake beneath me, her golden eyes wide with terror. I roll to my feet in one fluid motion, placing myself between her and the approaching threat. My muscles coil like loaded springs, every instinct screaming for blood.
"Stand down, Galthan!" Krugg's voice carries the authority of someone who thinks he's untouchable. "By order of the councils, you're under arrest for treason against the alliance."
"The only treason here is your interruption of a private moment." I bare my tusks, letting my voice drop to the growl that's made enemy warriors piss themselves on battlefields. "Leave. Now."
Two guards move to flank me while others advance on Thalia. The sight of their hands reaching for her ignites something primal in my chest—a roar that starts in my bones and tears through my throat like molten metal.
I launch myself at the nearest warrior before he can draw his weapon fully. My fist connects with his windpipe, crushing cartilage with a wet crunch. He drops, clutching his throat and making sounds like a dying bird.
"Thalia, run!"
But she can't—another guard has already grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet. Her scream pierces the night air.
"Galthan!"
The sound of my name on her lips, desperate and afraid, transforms me into something beyond reason. I pivot toward her captor, but Krugg's sword slices across my ribs, opening a line of fire along my side. The pain only fuels my rage.
I catch the blade on my next swing, wrapping my fingers around the steel despite how it bites into my palm. Blood streams down my wrist as I wrench the weapon away and drive my elbow into Krugg's jaw. His head snaps back with a crack that echoes through the trees.
"You want her?" I roar, spinning to face the remaining warriors. "Come through me!"
A spear thrust catches me in the shoulder, but I grab the shaft and use it as leverage to slam my attacker into the nearest oak. His spine hits bark with a sound like breaking kindling. He crumples, twitching.
"Galthan, please!" Thalia's voice grows more distant as they drag her toward the tree line. "Don't—"
Shackles bite into my wrists before I can reach her.
"THALIA!"
Her name tears from my throat like a battle cry, raw and desperate. The shackles bite deeper into my wrists as I strain against them, metal cutting through skin until blood streams down my forearms. The pain means nothing compared to watching her disappear.
"Galthan!" Her voice grows fainter, more broken with each step they drag her away. "Galthan, please—"
The sound cuts off abruptly, probably muffled by some bastard's hand. I roar until my throat feels like I've been swallowing glass shards, the sound echoing through the grove like a wounded beast's death cry.
"TOUCH HER AGAIN AND I'LL END EVERY ONE OF YOU!"
My voice cracks on the last word, but the promise behind it rings true as steel. I'll tear through armies to get to her. I'll paint these trees with their blood and use their bones as kindling.
The remaining guards haul me upright, their grips like iron vises on my arms. Through the trees, I catch one last glimpse of Thalia—her dark hair wild around her face, tears streaming down her cheeks, chains already binding her delicate wrists. Then the shadows swallow her whole.
Something inside my chest splits open, bleeding rage and desperation in equal measure.
Krugg approaches, wiping blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. His scarred face wears the satisfied expression of a predator who's cornered his prey. He crouches in front of me, bringing us to eye level, close enough that I can smell the wine on his breath.
"Your whore human will die after we use her for all she's worth," he says, his voice carrying the casual cruelty of someone discussing the weather. "Branded a traitor, of course. Can't have the clans thinking we're soft on rebellion."
His amber eyes glitter with malicious pleasure as he leans closer.
"And you, unless you wise up real fast, will die right alongside her."
I gather the blood pooling in my mouth from where my teeth cut my tongue during the fight. The metallic taste coats my throat as I lean forward and spit directly into his face, watching the crimson splatter across his cheek.
Before he can react, I snap my head forward, driving my skull into his nose with enough force to shatter bone. The crack echoes through the grove like a branch snapping. Krugg's head whips back, blood exploding from his nostrils in a crimson fountain.
He staggers, cursing, hands flying to his ruined face.
"That's for touching what's mine."
Krugg stands, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Blood smears across his cheek like war paint, but his eyes burn with the kind of fury that comes from wounded pride. The other guards shift nervously, waiting for orders from their bloodied leader.
"You pathetic fucking prick," he growls, his voice thick with rage and the metallic taste of his own blood.
Then he hikes his leg and rams his foot straight into my face.
The impact explodes across my skull like a lightning strike, snapping my head back so hard I hear vertebrae pop.
Stars burst behind my eyelids as pain radiates from my nose down through my jaw.
Blood fills my mouth instantly—warm, copper, familiar.
My vision blurs, the torchlight fracturing into dancing fragments.
The shackles bite deeper into my wrists as I slump forward, the metal chains the only thing keeping me from toppling face-first into the dirt. My ears ring like temple bells, drowning out everything except the sound of my own ragged breathing.
"Feel better now?" I spit blood into the grass between my knees, then lift my head to meet his gaze. "Because that's the best shot you'll get while I'm chained."
Krugg's ruined nose has already begun swelling, turning his face into a grotesque mask. He flexes his fingers around the hilt of his recovered sword, the blade gleaming in the firelight like a hungry serpent.
"Oh, I'm just getting started." His voice carries the promise of prolonged suffering. "The councils want you alive for questioning, but they didn't specify what condition you needed to be in."
He nods to the guards flanking me. "Hold him steady."
Iron grips tighten on my shoulders as they force me upright. My ribs protest where Krugg's sword opened them earlier, fresh blood seeping through my torn shirt. The metallic scent mingles with the forest's earthy dampness and the acrid smoke from their torches.
"You know what your problem is, Galthan?" Krugg circles me like a vulture, his boots crunching on fallen leaves. "You think being a war hero makes you untouchable. That your reputation protects you from consequences."
He stops directly in front of me, close enough that I can see the broken blood vessels in his eyes.
"But heroes fall just like everyone else. Especially when they betray their own people for a piece of human ass."
The insult ignites something primal in my chest, but the shackles hold me fast. I lean forward as much as the chains allow, baring my bloodied tusks in a feral grin.
"At least I chose mine. You're just following orders like a good little lapdog."
His fist crashes into my ribs where his sword cut deepest.