Half-Demon's Fortune

by Lina J. Potter

  A patrol? Seriously? They could only talk inside the guardhouse after having a few glasses of hard moonshine. In the morning, they realized two of them had had their hair turned completely white, while the other two had gotten grey streaks.

  That night had been a true ordeal.

  ***

  “Not bad,” said Ak-kvir, looking at me with reverence. I sneered but said nothing. After a pause, the demon continued.

  “So, are we going to—”

  “Definitely. Take me to the nearest town and you can hunt there while I’m resting.”

  I felt horrible. After losing so much power, I was barely conscious. All I wanted was to lie in a clean bed, gorge on a rare steak, wash it down with red wine, and sleep for ten hours or so, and I was going to indulge myself.

  The King of Rats started his march across the kingdom. I expected the servitors to get scared in two days and start panicking and looking for a way out in five. And that’s when I would come in, offering them...no, not a door but a window of sorts, enough to climb through, even if they would have to lose some fat along the way.

  They would leave me their lands, their money...I didn’t know the exact scenario, but in the best case, I would get a pocket Church controlled by myself.

  In the worst case, they would try to get me killed—nothing new to me. That was bound to happen eventually, anyway. There was a catch, though. If I warned them that my life was connected to the King of Rats...and that killing me could summon an even stronger entity...

  They could abstain from murdering me. They would hate me, whisper behind my back, and arrange accidents for my friends, although I would protect them, and I had even devised a way to do it. With time, the Church would try to regain its foothold in Radenor and Riolon, with the help of the neighboring states, but that would be later. In my time, I would be free of them, and my children...

  I should definitely have several children. Not because I liked them or anything, that didn’t matter at all. I had another reason in mind. Take, for instance, my mother and my uncle. They had the same parents, yet turned out to be as different as day and night.

  Hermann Likeworth and Cassie’s father, Cassie herself and Carlie, Henry and his older brother the duke—you would never think that they had the same parents. Not all of my children would grow up strong and smart. They might take after their mothers...like Dariola. Eww.

  I had to have a choice. I must. And I would tell my children the same. Whatever happened, the throne would belong to the one who was fit to rule; the strongest, the cruelest, and the most vicious challenger. Just like me. Michelle...mother...was an exception. Would there be another woman prepared to sacrifice herself that way? Would there be people able to raise a half-demon? I wasn’t sure.

  With ease, Ak-kvir flew over the city wall, looked around, and took me to the nearest inn.

  “I’ll hunt by myself, necromancer.”

  “I bet you will...”

  “I promise, I’ll show you those I have killed. You can punish me if I’m wrong.”

  “Will it bring back the innocents you might kill?”

  “Do you really think I’ll risk deceiving you?”

  Ak-kvir looked at me, his expression unreadable. I raised my eyebrow, and the demon sighed.

  “I used to think I was worthy of fear. Today, I saw you. I could eat all my life, but I won’t eat as much power as you gave to the King.”

  “Do you envy me?”

  “Yes. And I fear you.”

  I waved my hand.

  “If anything happens, I won’t even banish you. Keep in mind that rats don’t care what they eat.”

  Ak-kvir distinctly shivered.

  “I got it...necromancer.”

  I yawned and went inside.

  The rest could wait until tomorrow. Right now, all I wanted was to eat and to sleep.

  The innkeeper gave me the keys to a room without even haggling—a gold coin could buy a lot. They brought me meat and wine, and with a practiced gesture, I tested them for poison and sleeping draughts, but they were clean.

  I ate everything, cast a protection spell along the window-sills and the doorstep, and stretched myself out on the fresh bedsheets.

  I was exhausted enough to fall asleep right away, and no thoughts or dreams disrupted my rest.

  ***

  Servitor Alamon wasn’t sleeping either, but he had another reason not to.

  He wasn’t praying, riding a demon, or even walking the streets at night; he was indulging his craving for food.

  The man was a consummate gourmand. He loved quails in wine sauce, pastries with the softest truffle honey, chocolate cream...lots of delicacies, all exquisite, exotic, expensive, and unavailable to common people.

  He did have to keep fasting, but, as they said, the Bright cared more about one redeemed sinner than ten righteous men. And thus, he was going to finish gorging on the quail, wash it down with Lorian wine sent by Riphram the merchant, ten-year-old vintage—the gossamer on the bottle was intact—and finish up with a cupcake. And then, he would repent. Absolutely! The Bright Saint will be pleased, as will I.

  Repenting would take until the morning. After all, imbibing just before bed was hard on a person’s body.

  The servitor pulled out a white napkin, tucked it behind his collar, ceremoniously took a knife and a fork, made himself comfortable in anticipation of the coming feast, and raised the silver lid.

  “Get thee gone, unholy creature of the netherworld!”

  A small grey rat was sitting on the plate, perched right atop some partridges in a-ratel sauce. It was fat and really smug. A fork thrown at the rat brought no results. The servitor even thought that the rat smirked, sneering at him just like a human would.

  He didn’t get the time to think anything else. For a person, a locked door was an obstacle; for rats, it wasn’t even a nuisance. They crawled out from every corner, nook, and cranny, and charged at the servitor, climbing up his robes, and as their teeth dug inside his flesh, the servant of the Bright didn’t think of magic or his faith. He just screamed.

  At least, at first. He stopped when the rats’ sharp fangs bit into his tongue, and one of their shadows didn’t deepen, strangely resembling a huge rat with a crown on its head.

  The King of Rats collected his due and each victim made him stronger. He fed on beggars, ate their bodies, and only then grew bold enough to enter a temple.

  And even then, no two temples were alike. In some of them, the clergy were true believers, and the prayers were sincere. There, his power was weak. But if the servitor was immoral, then the entire temple suffered, and it would fall over fast and easy, which is what happened here. Nobody inside Riala’s main temple survived that night; not a single person of those wearing the Church robes.

  The rats were merciless and unforgiving. They were in a hurry to reap the harvest for their king. Some of them fell, but the swarm took no notice of that. They lived to serve; that was their life, their purpose, their happiness.

  Life and strength for the King of Rats.

  ***

  Innis was kneading dough when she heard a hysterical chime of the gate bell. It rang and then stopped short, all of a sudden.

  Was cooking unfit for a countess? Whatever. It was the best way to calm down after the said countess spent all night crying and now was all red-nosed and puffy-eyed.

  She felt sick without Alex. She knew he had to leave eventually; he was a demon, but...why? Was being with her so bad for him? As for the servitors...blast them all!

  Innis remembered how angry Alex had become after she talked to the Confidant. They didn’t give a damn about anything that happened away from them, as long as they could reap profits from their parishioners.

  Even if Alex had to eat a servitor a month to sustain himself, Innis wouldn’t have said a word against it—as long as he stayed close, looking at her with his clear eyes...

  How have I managed to fall in love with a demon? But she had, and now, it was all pain, all the time
. Innis knew that she would continue hurting, too. The logical side of her mind realized that Auntie Madie was right. Sooner or later, the pain would fade, she would meet another man, marry him, and start having children. Sooner or later, one way or another....

  But now, she hurt.

  “Innis! Mother!”

  Tyrimma stormed into the kitchen and what a sight she was! Innis even forgot all about her inner turmoil. The girl’s hair was grey like death itself, her eyes seemed on the verge of falling out of their sockets, her hands were shaking, and her face was covered with red spots.

  “Mother!”

  “My girl!”

  Auntie Madie appeared out of thin air. Real mothers could always hear their children. Tyrimma flew into her arms and burst into tears, sobbing so hard that Innis felt inadequate. She hadn’t cried like that for Alex. It was a mixture of howling, moaning, and shrieking with a generous helping of waterworks.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Russie is dead!”

  Innis suppressed the desire to say “Finally!” and hiccupped, pretending to grieve. Then she drank some water to help the hiccups.

  The next step was to calm down the girl, give her a stiff drink or two, and hear her out. Consoling her took a while and also required spirits of frozen grapes instead of wine, but in an hour or so, a tipsy Tyrimma finally told what she had seen the night before. She stumbled over her words, stammered, and shivered, and Innis listened to her story with mixed feelings.

  That said, it really was some scary stuff. In Tyrimma’s place, Countess Andago would have screamed just as loud, and she would also have had to say goodbye to her raven black hair; it would have turned white in an instant. She also might have picked up stuttering, even if Tyrimma hadn’t.

  She spent the night lying on the temple floor—Innis made a mental note to call a healer and check if she had frozen something off—and after waking up, headed home.

  That’s where she found Russie. She recognized him straight away by his ring and his medallion...and a lock of light hair on a skull that had been picked clean. There was nothing left to identify him by; the rats had been hungry.

  Tyrimma screamed, turned tail, and ran. To her mother, of course, who would greet her, comfort her, and pat her on the back.

  Auntie Madie got right on that, while Innis put on her shawl and went to get a healer, preferably a light mage, as one was living nearby. He did charge a fortune for his help, but he was an expert in his craft. Tyrimma’s case would have presented a challenge even for him, as not just her body needed healing, but her mind as well.

  As she walked down the street, Innis realized Alex’s genius. So that was why he hadn’t been afraid to leave her to the mercy of the servitors. She hadn’t thought about that yesterday, but he must have. She was willing to bet her head full of hair that the rats were his handiwork.

  Nobody would care about the investigation after getting something like that; all the guards would be busy with trying to protect the city.

  By the way, why wasn’t anyone ringing the city bell and calling for help? Could it be that the rats had eaten everyone in their sleep?

  Alex...

  Innis shrugged.

  So what? He did it to protect me, which meant that it was justified. It might have been cruel, but he was a demon, not a graduate from a finishing school. Alex was a good man.

  Oh, Alex, come back, please.

  In any case, Innis didn’t falter and went on to visit the healer, who promised to come as soon as possible. Or, better yet... Countess, could you bring your afflicted friend to me yourself? Do you see the crowd here?

  True, lots of people were gathered around, starting with the guards and ending with the thieves who had made an overnight career change.

  Some of them were ashen-faced, some were stuttering, some pissed their pants... several dozen times. What a horror! Rats have crawled out of their holes and are running amok!

  The healer told her that he hadn’t visited any of the temples yet, as he had enough on his plate.

  At that, Innis returned home, only to stumble into Lintor. The head of the guard was pale as snow, his hands shaking and his voice trembling.

  “Innis...Countess...”

  “Just Innis. I don’t think you care about formalities right now.”

  “Yes. Innis, where’s Alex, your cousin?”

  “He left last night.”

  “What!”

  “He did. He got a letter from Tevarr, he needs to travel there and back again. What’s wrong?”

  “I need him. Will he be back soon?”

  “I’ll look up the letter, if Alex didn’t burn it, of course.”

  He hadn’t.

  Alex hadn’t made an effort to forge it just to burn it, after all. The envelope was lying on a bedside table in his room, and the letter inside told sad news. The steward of the Belient estate informed Alex that his elder brother had been killed in a duel, his father had fallen ill, and therefore, the young man was to return to his homeland and accept his title. And scare away the vultures, too, as there was no shortage of those.

  Lintor clenched his fists as he read the letter, while Innis watched, silently thanking Alex once again. That demon had foreseen everything. Absolutely everything, even Lintor’s visit, even the people who would escort her to Andago.

  Oh Alex, what am I to do without you?

  All those years, days, and hours that I’ll have to spend looking at the door, and you won’t come. Thinking about you, while you’re not there; dreaming of catching the briefest glimpse of you, of touching you...but you’re so far away, and you will never ever return.

  Tears flooded her eyes.

  “Lady Innis!”

  Lintor jumped from his seat and proceeded to comfort the girl, but she couldn’t stop crying, not giving a care in the world for the Church or the captain of the guard.

  Oh, Alex... Come back, please. I...love you, you blinking demon!

  ***

  I woke up late and stretched on the bed, yawning.

  Recreating the night’s events in my mind took some time. Yeah...I summoned the King of Rats. What will happen now?

  It was easier to ask what wouldn’t. Over breakfast, the innkeeper told me about the horrific events in the city.

  Rats have gone mad! They’re attacking people, tearing them apart, and nothing can stop their swarms!

  The guards ran off their feet and could barely defend a few beggars and servitors from the rats!

  The creatures are especially mad at the servitors! I guess they’ve angered the Bright Saint and he has sent his punishment down on them...

  Oh, what are we to do? Before all that, we could run and hide in a temple if trouble came,but what now?

  I shrugged.

  “I can’t believe that everyone got ripped apart. I’m sure that somebody must have survived.”

  “I’m so glad that you believe in the cause of the Church so firmly, child of light.”

  I don’t get it... I turned back and found myself face to face with a wandering priest. He was clearly a nomad, going by his plain boots that had walked hundreds of roads, a coarse robe, and a knapsack next to his feet.

  His face was calm and had an honest expression; people with such faces never served at the main temple. The servitors there held no love for true believers.

  “My name is Shimaris. What’s yours?”

  “Alex,” I said, shrugging. “Will you eat with me, holy one?”

  The servitor smiled.

  “I would love to share a meal with you, child of light, as I don’t have a lot of money, and even those who serve are in need of food.”

  His smile was kind and warm, and I couldn’t help but probe his aura.

  Whoa! A life mage, really?

  By the way, contrary to what the books said, I felt fine in his presence. My magic was death, his was life, so what? We were opposites, like two sides of the same coin. Day and night, heads and tails, and one couldn’t exist without the other. Afte
r all, how long would a coin exist if both of its sides repelled each other?

  “A breakfast for two,” I told the innkeeper. “Meat, vegetables...no wine... What else have you got?”

  “Stewed berries.”

  “That will do.”

  He nodded and left.I stared at the servitor. He really was a true believer, his faith strong enough to scare away even the King of Rats. Such men were hard to come by.

  “Aren’t you afraid of walking the roads by yourself? They’re telling stories of rats...”

  “If they take my life, then the Bright Saint willed it so. But until then...a prayer is enough to drive away all evil creatures.”

  Well, not all, but his faith sure was enough for the King of Rats, and, I suspected, even Argadon himself. Still, by itself, a prayer was nothing more than a set of meaningless words.

  The servitor looked at me closely, his eyes clear blue, like a cloudless sky, radiating warmth.

  “Is something bothering you, child of light?”

  “Yes,” I made up my mind and started talking. “My heart is heavy...”

  “Tell me your troubles, then, and maybe I can help you. A burden shared...”

  “I doubt it. Because of me, much blood has been shed, and more will be shed in the future.”

  “And can’t you stop it?”

  “No, I’m afraid. If I leave everything the way it is and don’t get my hands dirty, lots of people will be worse off.”

  That was the truth. Who would rule, if not me? Dariola and her minstrel? Radenor would never survive another Abigail! It would fall apart, and then, war, strife, hunger, and disease would follow.

  “Isn’t that too much responsibility for one man, child of light?”

  “I never chose to take it. It just...happened.”

  The servitor watched me intently and then turned to the tray of food that had just been brought in.

  “You want neither power nor blood. I see that you’re sincere.”

  “Can’t you give me any advice?”