The Dying Moon ( Feyd Rautha )

Chapter 23

Feyd Rautha smelled fresh blood, which given a pattern that had played out for the better part of a day, meant he was near a Galicine. The palace was empty of them, save for the four generals that had been captured. Feyd threw open the throne room doors and the scent grew stronger. The captives kneeled at the base of the steps, chained and wild eyed.

Three thousand Harkonnen soldiers had landed on Grumman before the loss of their ships. Half of them had succumbed. He hadn't expected all of them to survive, but that amount of decimation was unfavorable. They were meant to primarily attack from the air, on foot was a wasted game.

Ten thousand Moritani had broken down and re-sided. They were no Galicine, a waste, a failed endeavor.

The rest would not break. The baron was floating above his new chair with a scowl upon his lips. Rabban lay in the corner beneath a heap of cooling blankets and a robed healer that tended to his burns. Feyd had the notion to scream and slaughter every single one of them, from the soldiers to his uncle. If the atmosphere was capable of being navigated, he may have added the emperor to that list, the whole order if he had to.

Hawk Dzevodzanum, mostly.

Feyd pulled one of the generals to his feet. The smug smile on the mans face didn't do him any favors. There was only one of them in chains.

"Tell your men to bend the knee," Feyd commanded.

"Piss. Off." The sentence was followed by a gargle of spit that nearly landed in Feyd's eyes.

Feyd cast him back to the stone, lifted the mans own axe and brought it down across his neck. The head rolled with a sickening thud against the steps, the others laughed and the Baron groaned.

Blood trickled down Feyd's boots from the rupture. The Galicine were so full of blood, just brimming with it. At the end of their tenure, the ones that still refused would compose oceans of the liquid. A marvel that rivaled the lava beds.

-

Hawk ran her fingers over the crimson mooncat carving before tucking it in her pocket. The journey back to Eidan's seitch had been silent. She couldn't speak, not with so much new information bounding around her head. Not even when Caros goaded her, he wasn't witty enough.

The night swayed in front of her as she dangled her legs over a high cavern face. It was the only true solitude in the hideout. Alica were masters of the darkness, they crept along it out of the untrained eyes reach. Every time she turned around within the halls, she found red eyes peeking from the walls.

A gale rustled her hair and swept it over her nose. She already smelled like them, like the moonflower they bathed in and the red berries they ate. Like salt, fire and a cool breeze. Even from a great distance, she could hear the waters of the north raging against the cliffs. It was not made worse by the sounds of war, which was either a very good thing or a horribly awful development.