The moon shone brighter than ever, blueish lights struggling to make their way through the tall, dark trees that blocked their path aggressively. Everytime he passed another tree, Gakeh gazed towards the moon’s light, absorbing its beauty. It stood pretty close to the ground, its massiveness capable of inflicting fear in those more easily subdued. But he felt no such feelings. The moon was their protector, the one that shaded them from the burning sun and allowed the markin race to exist in a way that was livable. To Gakeh, that was invaluable and meant much more than its physical beauty. The facial muscles could not showcase a faint smile no matter how much he tried to force it, finding it impossible to fully enjoy the prettiness that encompassed the lands. In comparison to them, the moon towered all that existed below, its crescent shape sharp around the edges, tiny holes dotted around it giving it some depth. The day could never overshadow the night in sheer glamour.

  He found it hard to focus on the environment. The balmak’s sudden quick movements jerked him violently and required all of his attention to be given to the animal. You never knew when they might launch you off of them in a steep curve or rapid brake. With a pat on its thick neck, the balmak lifted its head a couple of times, proceeding to slow down slightly. Glancing around the forest, noticing the calmness of it all, the dark tall trees, their pyramidal shape and their arching, unevenly grown branches, Gakeh saw no bird in sight, their loud thuds shaking the ground so violently, it made sense why no one would want to welcome their company. Even when they spoke, they seemed to flee in dread. It intrigued him how much of an impact their presence made to those around them and to the world they inhabited. Seemingly without effort, Gakeh was pulled back into the thoughts that gave him no time to rest or waste. It was simply undeniable just how much strength the markin race had and it was a shame the waste to which Kalah subjected it to.

  Darting his eyes in front, finding a path amidst the carriages which pulled the tall and muscular markins, Gakeh was able to catch glimpses of the captain. The white, uncombed hair, the greasiness of it glowing in the evading moonlight. Their positioning made it hard to completely discern, but the jolting of the balmaks aided Gakeh in seeing the outer shape of his disgusting belly, wobbling around the place with each launch forward. Nothing from the way he looked, moved or acted could instill confidence in someone that Kalah would make a fine leader, and yet his brethren did not see things this way. They seemed too preoccupied with carrying out whatever task he handed them, putting to use good resources that should’ve been spent on other more important matters.

  Curiously, the markin camp did not even evolve past its inception. The main hall, that rectangular, deep black, stone structure in which they gathered and where Kalah lived, atop it in the watchtower, had no other extensions added to it or work done to maintain it. It still did the job well, the walls while coarse and rough around the edges held up strong, the round, circular pillars inside looked decent enough and the intricate stairway that led to the captain’s chambers croaked when stepped on, but their weight, especially Kalah’s could be carried by it. That was basically the end to it all. The main hall served only as a gathering place for them after the wake up bell rang, for the captain to give his boring, uninspired speeches and for him to rest his disgusting body after what was mainly an unfruitful day. Gakeh was aware of the little efforts Kalah did in regards to the company, the lack of support or clear vision, the slim chances the markins had to engage into conversations with him. After all, he was the one receiving most of Kalah’s treatment. It felt more like the markins were his toy, to control as the captain pleases and for them to carry out all his wretched desires, not brothers belonging to the same race as him. And no one challenged him whatsoever in regards to this.

  It had to be impossible for Gakeh to be the only markin capable to think this way and see things so vividly. Someone must speak up and seize control over their race, before things will become dire. And as he visualized himself at the present moment, riding atop the balmak, a few of his fellow brethren anticipating their arrival in Ozin with excited anger brewing on their faces and the bloodshed that will occur the moment they step foot in that village, realization kicked in that it was the perfect moment to try and find some allies among them. To say it was risky was to put it mildly. It was incredibly dangerous since one small step out of the line, one wrong thing uttered, one careless action taken could jeopardize Gakeh’s entire plan and Kalah would lay those vicious, bloodthirsty eyes on him. A dim frightened feeling crossed him as that image appeared and evaporated quickly.

  The company slowed down at the lift of a fist from up front. Kalah kicked the poor balmak that carried his weight fiercely, the animal shrieking slightly and gestured for the markins to come to a standstill. The place they stopped marked the ending of the forest and the beginning of the Shapeless Hills, a region which the company had not explored too thoroughly before, but from their few encounters with it, Gakeh knew it housed a couple of villages that had a fighting force more capable than those they’ve bested before. With a gentle kick from his black greaves, the balmak lurched forward softly, approaching Kalah. Arriving by the captain’s side, the rim of an angered smile came into his vision, vaguely illuminated by the pale blue moon up top. The wide, pitch-black eyes with the intricate web of puny purple veins which flowed through them gave the captain some well-deserved light to the darkness that he embodied. The flared nostrils and visible droplets of saliva that welled up around the corners of the mouth, appearing to be slowly transitioning to foam, gave Gakeh all the confirmation needed that the captain fell captive to the fury that flowed through him like an untamed river. Almost instantly, the anger latched onto him, the strong, tangible sensation pouring wildly into Gakeh’s body. It managed to intrude so rapidly, it barely gave him time to react and the face already felt less tensioned, the facial muscles moving more fluidly now, the feeling palpable. Images of rampage crept in, people left for dead, quivering as the blood poured out of them, salvation nowhere to be found. The rage grew stronger and a smile began to form on his face, little by little. The sensation felt good, almost intoxicating, his whole body releasing this deeply relaxing feeling. Oh, yes.

  A narrow twitch of the head to the left, outside of Kalah’s field of view and a violent session of rapid jolts took hold of Gakeh. The awareness kicked in that he allowed the thoughts to take control briefly, like a rider grasping the reins of a horse’s leash. He must be better than this, better than what the body demanded. His blank eyes fell once again on Kalah, analyzing with care the way the captain behaved. Such emotion was dangerous to their race and they must not succumb to it like Kalah did.

  “We have arrived.” growled Kalah, refocusing everyone’s attention towards a shallow valley below that let towards Ozin

  Behind, the cries of excited markins intensified in strength. With a slow turn, Gakeh peered around the markin company, looking to see how many were affected by the intoxicating effect of anger. Quite a lot of them succumbed to it, unfortunately. In the farthest left corner, close to a few fluttering tall bushes, a large carriage stood completely still. The markins in it, about 7 including the rider, muttered no word and kept their heads down, their blank faces gazing at the wooden, squeaky floor beneath. They were not affected yet, which filled Gakeh with a vague feeling of confidence that disappeared in the blink of an eye. He must not lose sight of them amidst the chaos that was to ensue and to make sure of it, Gakeh registered one markin that stood out, due to his long, curly hair.

  Kalah pointed forward towards the depthless valley that spiralled down and with another violent kick in the balmak’s narrow, muscular stomach, the animal cried and launched forward, the markin company falling in line. The name Shapeless Hills sounded curious. From where they stood, even through the sudden jolts of the animals, Gakeh examined the hills that spread across moderately and noticed they looked flat from up above. As they descended further, the place started to reveal the curving signature of a hill, elegant, abrupt edges painting the scene as being somewhat dangerous to cross if not careful. It was hard to deny the beauty of it, fields of deep pink flowers colored a vast majority of the land they traversed, while sturdy, gigantic trees watched them pass by with caution. Ozin was getting closer and closer and with it, the moon’s tint gently switched, the watery blue replaced by a deep silver. Up in front, torches were lit, their shadows being cast upon the tall, wide wooden walls of the village. There was no vantage point for them to use, at least not one that Gakeh could find useful. But he doubted Kalah would care to actually employ a military tactic in their scenario.

  With another lift of the fist, the entire company stopped, a few balmaks stumbling to brake as fast as their six legs could. Turning unexpectedly, the captain gestured for Gakeh to come alongside him.

  “Smell that, markin?” Kalah uttered, sniffing the air madly

  Gakeh took a few sniffs in, his wide nostrils opening and closing firmly.

  “No, my lord. What is it?” he replied, focused on the captain’s sporadic movements

  “Meat.”

  The captain allowed a treacherous laugh to emerge from his puffed mouth. Another sudden movement and now his eyes were fixated on Gakeh, widened with anger. The predator in Kalah was now unleashed and nothing was going to save those poor, defenseless human souls. Such a waste. The captain’s head turned rapidly, meeting the blank gazes of almost a hundred markins, ready to receive new instructions.

  “Tonight… we feast!” the captain shouted

  In an instant, the entire markin company came alive, raucous excited sounds emerging from their throats. The balmaks launched forward, the whole markin race marching upon Ozin with ferocity. Up on the walls, a few guards scrambled to their feet, gazing downwards with widened eyes. Terror paralyzed them from what Gakeh noticed. One of the guards stumbled towards a massive horn that stood up a rounded tower, reached it and blew in it with all his might. It was already too late. The main gate blew open, ripped from its hinges and flew inward, one landing on a hut, destroying half of it while the other squashed a soldier. The sheer strength of balmaks was impressive to say the least. The markin company rode in, taking everyone by utter surprise. Gakeh stopped a few steps beyond the captain and glanced around, taking in the size of the village. Inside the walls, rows of huts spread unevenly further back, the whole place looking unorganized. In comparison to the many villages they invaded in the past, Ozin had to be one among the biggest. To his right, a dozen guards stepped outside a bigger building that resembled a barrack, equipped for battle. With a sudden whirl to the left, his eyes met another group of soldiers approaching, holding their swords upwards, fear trembling in their stares. A shout from up above gathered his attention. Archers were forming a line on the walls, aiming downwards with malicious intent. The situation they faced was rather interesting, such an opposing force may cause a few casualties among them. “What would Kalah do?” Gakeh wondered as his eyes darted on the captain.

  With a vicious yell from Kalah, the entire markin company stepped out of the massive carriages, the balmaks screeching as a response to the unrest surrounding them. It was never a good idea to bring a balmak into such a situation. As their feet touched the ground, loud thuds shook the village's grounds. Guards encircled them, approaching hesitantly, gulping nervously. As the markins lifted their bodies from the aggressive descent upon the floor, the guards’ heads kept tilting backwards, taking in their sizes. Massive shadows overwhelmed the human soldiers, enshrouding them in darkness. Kalah’s feet touched the ground, the raging smile increasing in its size and strength the more guards he saw. The civilians started scrambling around, exciting their houses in hurry, making for the second gates further back. Cries of help sounded around, the people desperately calling unto the guards to open the other gates. They obeyed, made for the chains, lifted them. The huge doors opened narrowly and without warning, they were ripped apart by a second group of markins that circled around the entire village in an effort to stop their escape. Now the humans were stuck with them and there was seemingly no other way out.

  “Feast yourselves, markins! Feast!” Kalah raged, unsheathing the large sword strapped to his side

  Another raucous cry reverberated among the company. In an instant, everyone unsheathed their weapons, the sound of metal clangs deafening the surroundings. With a steady whirl, Kalah sliced one guard in half, his upper half sliding in a pool of blood. And with that, the feast began.

  Arrows flew from above, penetrating a few of the markins’ thick skins, including Gakeh’s. He felt it pinch his neck, the sharp point still struggling to break through the skin, but to no avail. Such weapons were not strong enough to deal serious damage to them, especially during the night when Gakeh knew their whole bodies grew firmer and the skin thicker. With a slow lift of his muscular arm, he grabbed the arrow’s body, pulled it and threw it on the ground. He gazed up from where the arrow arrived, saw the widened mouth of the shooter, eyes filled with disbelief.

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  For a moment, he hesitated to draw his weapon. All around, the markins started butchering the poor souls they dwarfed, heads flying in the air, arms and legs being thrown around carelessly, blood painting the huts and walls in a deep red. The looks on a few of his calmer brethren faces switched, from the blank stares before, incapable of showing any emotion to slight grins, eyes squinting with hints of anger. They were feeding their raging desires with each new kill they made. Kalah took charge, almost like he was in a contest as to which one of them would massacre the most. His bulging belly jolted sporadically with each sudden movement he made, slashing and tearing through flesh like cutting through bushes. Gakeh knew the human soldiers had no chance, and yet they persisted. With suppressed terror in them, they threw around their swords in an effort to stop them, trying their best to dodge the powerful strikes from the markins. Such bravado. A faint feeling of pity arose in Gakeh as he watched the scene unfolding before him, vanishing in an instant.

  The markins pushed through the guards without a hint of slowing down, all moving steadily, their massive bodies incapable of catching every single move the human soldiers were doing. That was precisely what they lacked and Gakeh knew it could pose a threat – speed. It would not be hard for them to realize they could use the lack of speed to their advantage, twirling around the markins in an effort to catch them off guard, possibly even taking out one or two of them. He found himself glaring at Kalah as that thought crossed his mind. They had to come up with a better plan than simply rushing in, no care in the world and to start murdering everyone, all because their captain was incapable of suppressing his desire for anger.

  A sword came running towards him. Gakeh unsheathed his blade from his back, refocused, pulling himself back to the present. A glimpse of a human soldier appeared in the corner of his dark left eye, approaching in a hurry. With the sword in his right hand, he allowed it to fall down and whirled around, lifting the blade upwards and cutting the soldier’s head off the body, sending it flying. Droplets of blood touched his dark purple face and he felt the warmness of it, making his entire body feel odd. It always struck him as interesting how warm human blood was and how it contrasted their coldness.

  Screams of battle sounded nearby, the voices resembling those of humans. Gakeh twirled, met a few daring soldiers approaching with narrowed eyes and flaring nostrils. He steadied, planting the feet in the ground, grasped the hilt of the long blade with both hands and prepared for their attacks. The moment a soldier drew his blade backwards, Gakeh thrust his blade forward, impaling the man right through his chest. The other guards shuddered, stepping back involuntarily. With twitching movements, the impaled man reached forward, struggling to breath, darting his eyes around aimlessly. Massive amounts of blood poured down towards the hilt, catching Gakeh’s attention. A reeking smell intruded his wide nostrils. The other soldiers took a moment to readjust themselves and planted their eyes on Gakeh, rage flowing on their faces. He drew back his blade, leaving the man to drop on the floor with a definitive thump and looked down upon the other soldiers. A familiar sensation stirred within him, threatening to grow in intensity anytime. Anger. The soldiers wasted no more time and proceeded to attack, unleashing their wrath upon Gakeh. Two of them came from up front, while another disappeared behind him, slashing down around his calf. The pain was dimmed but present. Rage grew stronger within. The sword danced around the air steadily, Gakeh whirled his massive body in an attempt to evade them, using his size and strength to his advantage. With one swoop, he grabbed one soldier by the throat, squashing him like a bug, the creaking sound of broken bones increasing his anger further. Pestering piles of flesh, how dare they attempt such foolish deeds?

  One soldier thrust his sword in Gakeh’s thigh, the blade penetrating and sending a painful, but acceptable signal throughout his whole body. With a sluggish turn of the head, he took in the human’s face. Horror paralyzed him, the dark eyes of Gakeh wrapping him in a terrible darkness. A narrow grin appeared in the corners of his muscular mouth and Gakeh felt the alluring anger taking hold of him, its intoxicating effect releasing a pleasing sensation. Pointing the blade up and lifting it, it penetrated through the man’s chin, breaking the skin and bones as it raised the jerking human. The sight before him enticed the anger and before Gakeh knew, he fell victim to it completely. And how good it felt to allow yourself to be taken by that sweet, beautiful rage. The grin turned leisurely into a wide smile, the eyes expanded and Gakeh could not remember a moment when he felt this good. Sweet, sweet rage.

  A painful sensation made him growl. A blade laid stuck in one of his calves, sending nervous transmitters amidst his body. The soldier that stabbed Gakeh withdrew silently, watching the sword flutter with every movement of the leg. Without even glancing in its direction, Gakeh lifted his leg and shoved it backwards, hitting the man in the head which sent him flying as he scraped the grassy ground. Leaning backwards narrowly, he grasped the blade and tossed it aside, black colored blood emerging out of the wound. Stupid fucking human.

  Glaring around, the entire scene looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood cradled the walls, huts were being burned by the enraged markins, heads were being squashed under the pressure of their big feet. In a corner, a few civilians stumbled to escape the wrath of a few warriors. He focused his attention, making out a woman and two of what appeared to be her children. They distanced themselves from the sluggishly walking markins, desperately trying to make for a hole in the wall that was punctured by one of his brethren. The markins chasing them drew back their arms and tossed forward a mace and an axe, planting themselves in the bodies of the woman and children, their bodies frozen on the ground. They twitched as blood poured out, creating a pond beneath their garments.

  Gakeh shook his head violently, fighting against the ever-increasing anger that battled him in an effort to seize control. To succumb to the pleasures of rage was very easy, but to withdraw yourself from such an emotion required strength and exertion. He allowed himself a few moments of peace, among the chaos that encompassed him. Flames illuminated in the corner of his eyes, sending vaguely warm waves towards him, cries of agony sounded as blades penetrated through flesh, the scent of blood flooded the environment with its reeking smell. His brethren let out harsh sounds of excitement with each new kill. Parts of the wall crumbled to the ground from immense pressure, sending clouds of dust around the village. The balmaks cried out in fear as they were being forced to watch such violence ensue. Closing the eyes, Gakeh controlled his breathing, forcing the facial muscles to obey his command and stop displaying a vicious smile. It felt like the greatest battle of all had just now commenced.

  In the end, he stilled himself and the blank face returned once again. With a sudden lift off the ground, he witnessed Kalah emerging out of a burning hut, with innocent people tossed around and smashed on the wooden walls of the houses. His bulging belly appeared to be even bigger than a few moments ago, his face twisted beyond recognition, resembling that of a bloodthirsty beast rather than that of a markin. He shouted and shoved the blade in a woman’s chest, repeating the motion a couple of times, until not a single jolt came out of her body. How much more of a merciless brute could he be? Straying the entire markin company so far into the false pleasure anger gives them that they start to look like mindless animals rather than proper markins. Gakeh knew that he would never have allowed such a thing to occur in the first place. This whole idea was wrong from the start. What benefits will it bring them? Resources? What were they to do with resources when they found themselves unable to actually put them to a good purpose? Such foolishness made him feel a slight sensation of pity for the entire company.

  Under the growing flames, huts collapsed onto the ground. Smoke engulfed the village as cries began to fade into inexistence. Their assault was finally over. Gakeh sheathed his blade and glanced around the premises. Piles upon piles of humans laid on the ground, blood stained the grass different shades of red and its smell could be sensed from a considerable distance. The walls were now a shell of their past selves, the iron reinforcements attached to it were bent on the ground while the wooden pillars that constituted the wall itself either were burning or chopped beyond any reasonable use. He strode around, taking in every single damage they’ve dealt, feeling that dim sense of wrongness reappear, only to immediately vanish like it never existed. Catching a few of the markins’ faces, the blank stares seemed to steadily return, abolishing the anger that subdued most of them all throughout the massacre. Kalah was obviously the exception. The rage still stirred within him and he was still stabbing away at a few corpses, even though they were long gone from this mortal realm. There was another feeling that slowly crept into Gakeh’s mind. Were there any survivors that managed to escape? Judging by the sheer amount of destruction around, an affirmative to his question seemed reasonable in his mind. Which meant only one thing – others will know, word will spread, people will find out about what happened in Ozin and they may begin to gather a force powerful enough to oppose the markin company. Anger returned and his jaw clenched slightly, nostrils began to flare. The captain was simply an idiot.

  “We have casualties!” a low, harsh voice belonging to a markin warrior yelled out, gathering Gakeh’s attention

  His steps hurried as much as they could and the moment he reached the voice, three corpses met him, standing side by side, hands around their thighs. One of the casualties stood out in particular. The markin with curly hair. Gakeh remembered then he wanted to keep an eye on him and the others in his carriage and felt a vague sadness flood him, disappearing immediately. They lost some of their own kin, good, strong markins they would never get back. If only they weren’t supposed to fight in the first place, this definitely wouldn’t have happened.

  Footsteps sounded close by. Kalah approached and shoved Gakeh aside, taking in the dead markins on the ground. He glanced quietly, the fury still dancing across his dark purple face. The captain whirled, looked around the place and found a torch sitting on the ground.

  “Burn them.” Kalah said, twirling to meet Gakeh’s face

  Suddenly, a storm brewed within Gakeh. The rage was in full swing and he could feel his face showing it. There was an undeniable desire to grab the captain by the throat and strangle him to death. To grab his head and bash it against the biggest of rocks, until bits of skull flew and dark blood replaced the grayness of the stone. To twist his entire body, breaking every single bone and muscle, draining all the life out of it. With a sudden shift, Gakeh now gazed back at the dead markins below. He must not allow his judgment to be clouded by the feelings he had towards the captain. The anger receded as he breathed in more deeply.

  “The rest of you, return to your carriages. We return to camp.” Kalah shouted, the markins already obeying his commands

  “My lord, may I have your attention?” Gakeh intruded, sluggishly moving his head back to meet the captain

  “What, markin?”

  The air was filled with a palpable rage roaming around, thanks to Kalah’s contorted face. Now, he looked even more visibly furious because of Gakeh’s words.

  “Soon, dawn will come. (Gakeh gestured towards the sky, the moon slowly descending) Their bodies are going to take a while to burn and to do it on my own… that would take even longer. May I inquire for some aid from a few of our brethren?”

  The captain’s nostrils puffed aggressively. Veins swelled even more around the neck now, the glowing purple casting faint shadows on the devilish face he mustered. For a moment, a dim feeling of fear arose in Gakeh, unable to predict the answer he would receive.

  “Are you a markin or an unworthy piece of meat, warrior?”

  Kalah’s shout caught the others' attention, voices dying down. There was no room for error in anything Gakeh would do or say. He had to exert maximum care. Gakeh’s eyes shifted downcast towards the captain’s feet and bowed steadily.

  “My lord… I apologize if my words upset you in any way. I simply proposed I be given help so that the emerging sun would not turn me into its victim and fall among our brethren. I am devoted to you and I wish only to serve under your rule, my lord. If it is not something you wish to do, I would thoroughly understand if I would not receive any help.

  Silence fell upon the land. Gakeh dared not move his sight anywhere, focused solely on the ground below where a narrow river of blood steadily descended from a nearby human corpse. A muffled growl sounded from the captain and he caught a glimpse of him whirling.

  “You! Stay with him and take care of your brethren. Return to the camp once you’re done over here.”

  Kalah slouched away, headed towards his balmak. Two markins approached Gakeh. He stood up sluggishly, taking in their faces. Blank stares gazed towards him. Something about them seemed familiar. Gakeh scratched his jutting chin, allowing the memories to return to him. The realization kicked in the moment he remembered they were part of the same carriage as the curly haired markin. Intriguing.

  The three of them proceeded to pile up multiple corpses, setting them ablaze. Pillars of flame roared around what remained of Ozin, flickering aggressively in sudden gales of wind. Gakeh watched as his deceased brethren were now surrounded by flames, their decomposing bodies melting away, dark purple juice dripping down towards the ground. He wished he could have cried to such a scene, but his body could not oblige. Every hint of sadness that grew within was cast away like a dangerous wave, taking away any hope that he could feel another emotion besides anger. Plucking the sword out of its sheath, he thrust it in the ground, kneeling and whispering the markin salute. The two markins next to him followed the command. It was a true shame the night had to come to an end like this. What good came out of Kalah’s hunt?

  “Let’s move. The sun will be up soon. We need to return to camp.” Gakeh proposed, striding past them towards the balmaks

  It was painfully obvious to Gakeh why Kalah was not meant to lead the markin company anymore, his thirst for blood leads only to carnage, their own kin being subjected to death because of it. Things had to take a different route if they were to survive. He glanced slightly to the right, taking in the two markins that marched behind him. It was the perfect moment to test the waters with them, to see how maneuverable they were. He could not wait any longer. Things had to change as soon as possible.