Half-Demon's Fortune

by Lina J. Potter

  The list of traitors and my lunch took almost all of my time. I didn’t even get to have a bath.

  Changing clothes? That would have been too much! I planned on doing that at home, that is, if Dariola hadn’t thrown my belongings away, or, even worse, given them to her toadies.

  In two hours, I went out on the Morinars’ porch and realized that Henry had performed a miracle.

  “Tommy!”

  “Alex!”

  I gave my sworn brother a strong hug.

  “I’m glad that you’re all right.”

  “You tipped us off at just the right time. The wife is safe and I came here...well, you know.

  For a second, I felt my breath taken away. I was not alone. I had friends, and in our world, that meant a lot.

  “Well then. Let’s go, shall we?”

  Tommy nodded in agreement. I cleared my throat and addressed the troops.

  “Soldiers! You’ve seen me. You know me. You know what I tried to do for the kingdom. A month ago, I was attacked! The traitors injured me, almost killing me, and kept me imprisoned. I managed to escape, and now, I’m asking you to help me punish the villains! For Radenor!”

  “For Radenor! For the king!” a few thousand warriors roared in unison, their chainmail gleaming in the sun, their helmets and shields shining as they saluted me.

  I hoped there wouldn’t be any serious losses. My troops were valuable to me...literally. I had poured a mind-boggling amount of money into them. If you didn’t want to feed your army, you’d be feeding somebody else’s. Necromancy wasn’t enough to keep the crown, and the people wouldn’t understand it, either.

  But when my troops marched into town, with their measured steps, and the girls screamed with delight...

  Who would resist us? The Riolonians? How many of them had Darius left in Alethar? A hundred? Two? If they surrendered, I would spare them and kick their butts back to their homeland. I would even let them keep their pants, even if I shouldn’t. They really deserved to be sent across the border naked so, next time, they wouldn’t go anywhere uninvited.

  But...politics, damn it! I couldn’t rip Dariola’s head off in public just because I needed Riolon. It could burn in tarnation for all I cared, but Innis lived there, and Auntie Madie, and...

  In a word, I didn’t want them to live in a war-torn country. I couldn’t be with Innie, but nobody forbade me from taking care of her, and that’s why I had to make the best of a bad business.

  I took my place in front of the troops, riding a bay stallion. Rene had offered me a white one, but I snapped at him. No need to pretend I’m a fairytale prince!

  Alethar wasn’t giving up. We were welcomed with enthusiasm. What the hell! Do they...love me?

  It seemed that they did. I could see it by the beaming faces of the guards, who were all but ready to open the gate wide before me; by the people who were greeting me by the city entrance; by the smiles of the girls and the happy cries of the children.

  “Mommy, the king has returned!” a little girl chirped in such a high voice that my ears almost bled.

  I wondered where my crown was. Not the old one that I had left in the palace; the family crown was supposed to stay in the heart of Alethar. I meant the circlet fit for traveling that I had taken to wearing. Have they stolen it? Most likely.

  Need I mention that nobody even tried to stop us? Neither the city guard nor the noblemen we met on the road. Some of them, however, became suspiciously pale and vanished along the way, as the streets twisted and turned.

  Let them. They could hide from the guards, but a necromancer’s curse would find them even if they holed up beneath the earth.

  ***

  The palace greeted us with locked doors. I nodded to one of the soldiers, and he approached the gates and started banging his shield against them. The rumbling was horrific.

  He didn’t have to work long, as an arrow flew down from the wall and hit the ground right next to us.

  “Who are you?”

  The voice sounded afraid. I nodded to the soldier once again.

  “His Royal Majesty Alexander Leonard Radenor! Open the gates!”

  “But the king is d-dead!” the voice behind the wall objected.

  “Then it’s the king’s ghost who’ll hang you!” the soldier gave as well as he got, earning my approving nod.

  The voice behind the wall paused. And then...

  “Go away! We will resist!”

  I smirked. That wasn’t very nice of me, I know. Argadon’s blood awoke in me. I knew why that shmuck was trying to bargain. He knew they were doomed and wanted to buy time for my dearest wife to escape.

  That was futile, of course, but he didn’t know that.

  “Soldier, are you from Riolon?”

  “Y-yes. With whom am I—”

  “You might not know me, that’s true, but I really am Alexander Leonard Radenor. You can invite my wife, Dariola Elianol, to confirm my identity...”

  The hesitation was almost tangible.

  “Her Majesty—”

  “And tell her that the secret passage that I showed her myself is blocked by my people. She won’t be able to escape.”

  “Your Majesty, we must protect the princess!”

  My opponent finally climbed out from behind his cover on the palace wall. He was relatively young, thirty at most, and had a short beard, disheveled dark hair, and fiery eyes. That was strange. An idealist? How did he reach this age? Very odd. Why had Darius brought such a person to Radenor? Or is it just a cover, so that other people can do real business, while everyone looks at that valiant fool, never doubting his innocence? He obviously didn’t have enough brains for deceit.

  “Will you protect her from her lawful husband?”

  “B-but—”

  “I am no imposter. I suggest you invite the queen here or see for yourself that she’s trying to escape.”

  “Will we wait?” Tommy asked quietly.

  I lowered my eyelids a bit. Just a second, brother, now’s not the time. The Riolonian was racking his brains over my words, then nodded.

  “I will invite Her Majesty and those who know...knew...”

  “Do that, sir...”

  “Count Rimorten.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, demonstrating my breeding. “I don’t think I need to be introduced.”

  The count disappeared from the wall. I turned to Tommy.

  “Pick out fifty people you trust and a commander.”

  “Alex, I—”

  “I need you and Rene here. The secret passage is close. I will open it, and they will open the gates. No needless victims. Go.”

  I didn’t have to convince Tommy. He selected the soldiers in just a few minutes, while I jumped off the horse and gave Rene the reins.

  “Hold on to them,” I told him and then asked Tommy, “Who will lead the squad?”

  “Captain Morten.”

  I liked the captain. He was a grey-haired veteran with a long mustache and a fierce look in his eyes—the perfect candidate for this mission. There would be no needless bloodshed...but there would be some.

  “Captain, I’ll open the passage for you. It will lead you into the guardhouse near the gates; your task is to open them. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Let’s go.”

  I wasn’t lying. The kings of Radenor had foreseen much, including a secret escape route. One could never know when one would have to run. Opening the gates wasn’t always an option. However, like many other secret passages in the palace, it was bound to Radenor blood. It opened only after I pressed a certain stone in the wall.

  “Your Majesty, are you hurt?”

  “It’s nothing, just a scratch.”

  It couldn’t be opened without blood, but with it...

  The soldiers disappeared in the darkness of the short passage.

  ***

  We waited.

  Unlike what the stories told you, it wasn’t especially noisy behind the wall. No wild sc
reams of the dying, no sounds of a furious battle—that would be unprofessional.

  Trust me, if a squad marches somewhere knowing that its enemies will be taken off guard and accomplishes its goal, there will be no prolonged battle. The former will simply cut down the latter like puppies, quickly and brutally, without any needless cries or victims.

  Just like I wanted them to.

  Fifty men swiftly turned the tables in our favor. Two were enough to open the gates, so the other forty-eight didn’t even have to defeat many enemies, but simply hold them off long enough for us to enter the palace yard. We would do the rest.

  Or we would have. As soon as the gates opened, the noise of battle started to die down. The smartest Riolonians—and Darius had brought no fools, knowing that it might be risky—were dropping their weapons and surrendering. As for the stupid ones, they got finished off by three or four of my men. That was no ball; it was war. Honor had no place there.

  I stepped into the yard, triumphant, leading my army and being greeted by the servants who had crawled out of their holes.

  Yes, the servants loved me. I was no Rudolph; I rarely held balls, didn’t force them to wait hand and foot on hundreds of slackers, and had almost no random whims, and they quickly grew to appreciate that.

  “Hurrah to His Majesty!”

  “Your Majesty!”

  “Long live the king!”

  The Riolonians looked daggers at me, but I cared not for them.

  “Throw them into prison. Gather everybody in the palace together, including my wife. The ballroom will do. We’ll figure out where to put each of them later.”

  After getting a clear order, the troops scattered around the palace, while I headed into the throne room, which was my first stop.

  Afterward, I planned to check the treasury, the study... And by the way, where is Martha?

  ***

  Henry Lanier was following the secret passage shown to him by Dariola, the queen.

  His beloved? Not really; there was no place for love in Henry’s heart. It was already occupied, and not by music. The minstrel loved himself far too much for that.

  Looking at his golden locks and square shoulders, listening to his angelic voice, and marveling at his clear blue eyes, it was hard to believe that the Bright Saint hadn’t given that handsome man the most important thing in the world: a true and loving soul. All the passion inside Henry was directed only at himself, while the rest poured out in his songs.

  As for women, let them love him, adore him, fight each other for one look of his eyes, tear each other apart for his favor... It flattered him, but nothing more. And when Princess Dariola had fallen in love with him, even that didn’t make Henry happy. Why would it? Dariola was no beauty. The prettiest thing about her was her title.

  And even then, Henry was smart enough to know when he was in over his head. A dalliance with a princess would be such a case, most definitely. He could have a thing with her...but what then? A princess’ virginity was a national treasure. They had to be given away to their future husbands as maidens. So, if anybody learned about his initiative, nobody would let him marry Dariola, but they certainly could rip something of his away. Actually, it would be strange if they didn’t. And thus, Henry pretended not to notice anything, had trysts with servant girls and married ladies, and lived peacefully while the princess was pining away.

  Everything changed when His Highness Darius summoned Henry and made him a very specific proposition.

  Dariola wanted the musician? She would have him, but on certain terms. Henry would also come in handy to keep a leash on the princess. By all appearances, he was no idiot. Did he, perchance, want to become the king? Not in name, but in deed.

  Actually, Henry didn’t, but refusing was not an option. And so, he had to leave for Radenor, where he could feel danger with his gut...ahem, his sensitive soul. Danger lurked inside the king’s blue eyes and his deceptively delicate appearance, in the toothy grin of his nanny, whom Dariola absolutely loathed, in the Chancellor’s hard gaze... Henry felt that everybody suspected him, but in truth, nobody gave a damn, other than maybe Martha, who sometimes hissed that he was too handsome for his own good—but the king ignored that.

  So what if he was? That could be useful; the king had far too many ladies-in-waiting chasing after him. Let Henry plow the field and leave the king with one less problem. And then, if Alexander wanted to get rid of somebody, he wouldn’t have to search for an excuse. Lechery was a good enough reason.

  Henry was nervous. Even when everything seemed to have worked out and the king had disappeared somewhere, he still had a bad feeling about all this. Dariola was happy, but all he could hope for was to run away in time. And today, while Dariola was lamenting and wringing her hands, he slid into the secret passage she had once shown him and was off.

  Money? Jewels? Everything was kept in the city, with a trusted merchant. He didn’t care about the unimportant stuff left behind inside the palace, so he got out while the getting was good.

  The fire in Henry’s lantern danced, failing to dispel the darkness completely. All it could do was to push it back a little bit, but the shadows closed in behind him as soon as he passed.

  “Where do ye think yer going, pretty boy?”

  A silhouette of a woman formed from the darkness and smiled, her mouth full of teeth. Martha had lain an ambush, and her wait was not for naught.

  Henry stopped and peered into her face.

  “You!”

  “Me. Are ye running away, pretty boy?”

  “Let me pass.”

  After realizing that it was no monster, but the king’s old nanny, Henry moved ahead, resolute. What could she do to him? Hit him? Bite him?

  “In yer dreams...”

  Martha grinned malevolently.

  “Let me pass, or I...”

  Henry thought that Martha was alone. He couldn’t see the black snake by her side. He had no magic abilities, and even if he had, the Keeper would never show itself to some scum.

  Three more steps, two...

  Martha’s eyes sparked black in the darkness of the corridor.

  Henry yelled and fell to his knees. His legs couldn’t hold him anymore. He felt something coiled around them: a tentacle slid across his knees.

  The Keeper itself was incorporeal, but after taking power from a necromancer, it could do a lot. And Alex had fed it well, too. Not all bandits and robbers had ended their lives on the executioner’s block; some of them had wound up in the palace dungeons, on the altar.

  Blood, yes; death, yes, and sometimes, painful. So what? Those were no cuddly bunnies; they were murderers, thieves, and thugs. Meeting them in a dark alley was a death sentence. Martha had no pity for them, knowing that only thanks to their deaths had she managed to survive in the dungeon. After all, she had no royal blood—Alethar had never taken those like her into account. And now, having commanded the snake to grab Henry, she felt a slight weakness...but not for long.

  The second tentacle, as if crafted from darkness itself, wrapped itself across Henry’s body and bound his hands to his torso. Grinning, Martha approached him, pulled out a rope, and tied him up. Horrified, the minstrel couldn’t even speak, only smacking his lips, all his charm gone for good.

  “To the altar.”

  Martha wasn’t afraid of showing her hideout. Her son was alive, and he was inside the palace. As for Henry...

  She had an hour at the very least. That would be enough. She had to show the Keeper her gratitude, after all.

  ***

  Dariola met me in her chambers, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting.

  “My husband, you’re alive! I was beside myself with worry!”

  I chuckled, eyeing her coldly, and made a short gesture, indicating the great number of familiar faces present. The Chartreuses had crawled there—and not just them, but all the rabble I had kicked out of the palace, forbidding them from ever showing themselves before my royal eyes...

  “Out, all of you.”


  Dariola grew pale. The ladies shot out like a flushed pack of butterflies. A majestic sight, if one had no idea that those charming creatures didn’t just flutter about the flowers, but had no scruples about eating rotten meat and other putrid stuff. There was a certain resemblance between them.

  I threw my wife another icy look as I waited for the door to shut behind the last of the ladies and nodded, pointing at her stomach. Dariola still didn’t look especially pregnant: no swelling, no big belly, even the color of her face was the same. If I didn’t know the truth, I would have simply assumed she had gained weight because of eating too many cakes.

  “How many months?”

  “Six.”

  “And when was I to learn about that? Or was I?”

  “Alex, I wanted to surprise you—”

  “Consider yourself successful, then. And now, I will tell you what’s going to happen to you. Before the baby is born, nobody will so much as touch you. But afterward...”

  “What! Are you threatening me?”

  Dariola tried to project an aura of arrogance, but she failed, as her voice trembled.

  “No. I’m explaining. Abigail has already realized what’s going to happen to her, and I’m not going to take pity on you either, my dearest wife. It’s not that hard to find a broodmare, and I have no wish to tolerate a traitor willing to backstab me.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Really? What about Henry Lamier, Lanier... What’s your minstrel’s name, again?”

  “He’s not here, as you see.”

  “I do. Soon, he won’t be anywhere.”

  “What!”

  “He’s fled through the underground passage, hasn’t he? Thing is, Dariola Elianol, the underground passages in my palace are only safe for me, for you, and for several other people. As for your Henry...it would be better if you had just killed him here and now. At least it would have been painless.”

  “What! No...”

  She believed me, I knew that, and understood it, but couldn’t help but still hope. Too bad for her. The Keeper might have let him through, but Martha? Never!

  “I hate you!”

  My smirk became even more mocking.