Half-Demon's Revenge

by Lina J. Potter

  What had awakened me? Or who? I didn’t know, yet...it felt like a chord singing in the night—a sharp, clear sound... Was someone playing a guitar? It didn’t sound like that. You couldn’t draw a single string for so long. What, then?

  I decided to go take a look. I jumped out of bed, pulled up my pants, and took my sword. After some consideration, I put on my knife belt as well. After all, it isn’t a respectable forest with wolves and bandits—it’s the royal palace! Who knew what could be found here?

  Tom didn’t wake up. He slept like a baby even when I shook his shoulder, clapped my hands and whistled near his ear. I tried calling him with my magic. I had no idea what enchantment he was under—or what was calling me.

  Was it a trap? I snarled and slipped out of the door.

  Watch out. Are you sure that you didn’t attract a shark while trying to catch a goldfish? I’ll tear you apart, both the trap and the trappers. Beware...

  The corridors were clear.

  Oh, wait.

  A guardsman was sleeping on watch.

  And another one, and a third... What the hell is happening?

  You could get beheaded for such an offense. There was only one explanation.

  Everyone was asleep.

  And the unseen string was singing louder and louder, clearer and clearer, beckoning me forward. Something told me that if I were a human, I would never be able to resist it—I would be running as fast as my legs could carry me. Where to next? The throne room. I had been there before.

  Wasn’t it locked tight with the ceremonial regalia inside?

  The crown, the scepter—not those carried by Rudolph, the lighter ones, worn for show, “purty,” as Martha had put it—but the older, heavier stuff. I had seen that monster. You would lose your ears if you put it on.

  The doors swung open before me. I stepped inside and promptly jumped back, as a black rift opened under my very feet. Light silver steps descended into darkness, apparently hiding the source of the sound.

  But there were no secret passages in the throne room! Everyone knew that! No mage had ever discovered one; there was only a foundation—and solid rock.

  However, the string was singing, calling, drawing me, and I made my choice. I put my foot on the first step and started my descent, opening my mouth, like a child.

  As soon as the darkness enveloped me completely, everything changed. Despite the gloom above my head, I saw light all around me. After going down all the way, I saw a huge hall—three times the size of the throne room. Slowly, step by step, I approached the source of the light ahead.

  It was an altar made of white stone, plain-looking. I was almost blinded by its power. Whatever it was, it was certainly magical. Three items were lying on the stone—an obviously ceremonial dagger, a cup, a bracelet.

  I went around it, and the ringing stopped. That was when I felt what I had to do. It was more than just a shrine. It was the heart of Alethar. This is where the true kings had been crowned. The one on top was a toy, a fiction. From here, I could easily kill him—I just had to wish on my blood for Rudolph’s heart to stop. I looked inside the white stone, and I realized what it was.

  Alethar Radenor had been a cruel man, both to his family and to himself. The only thing he had ever loved was his country, his creation. Not the children his wife had born him or her, no! The thing he had built himself, with his hands and his will. And to get rid of unworthy rules like Rudolph...

  The legend of Alethar told that one day, he had vanished as if he had never been there at all. That is what had happened to him. He had come there to sacrifice himself.

  His last stronghold, his last hope. That is why they said that if somebody not of royal blood ever sat on the throne of Radenor, they would burn to a crisp, no fire and no smoke. And so they had. Once, a sharp-witted damsel had married while pregnant and had managed to make her bastard the heir. The king had not known that. And after his death, when the lad was crowned...

  The pile of ash was cleaned, the hall washed. His younger brother became my maternal great-great-great-grandfather.

  Still, Alethar had no way to prevent such worthless beings as Rudolph from bringing ruin to Radenor. Kings were not as expendable. And there was no other choice. Grandfather had been dying, Michelle...mother…had been crazy, and the crown would have never accepted her, alas.

  But now, the palace felt the kindred blood, and I had to confirm that. Calmly, I took a dagger, casually touching the sharp tip of the blade with my tongue. It was old, dark, made from bronze back during Alethar’s time. The forging style was called Raven’s Claws. It was not poisoned. Sharp steel easily punctured my wrist, and dark, almost black drops of blood fell onto the white plate. This was the focus which powered the blood magic, but it had to be royal blood, given freely. As the black rubies of my blood got absorbed into the white stone, I heard the sound of the string once again. This time, it was loud, sharp, triumphant, declaring to all who could hear that the king was back and ready to take charge of his country and his people.

  Not take the power, no. Any fool could do that. But responsibility, the duty of punishing and showing mercy, was not a right; it was a heavy burden. And the two of us, both me and the long-dead man who had become the heart of Alethar, knew that very well.

  I put the cup against my lips and drank it dry. The wine of life, the wine of the earth...

  The bracelet slipped onto my wrist, covering the wound, and froze in place. I knew I could never take it off. As for the crown, the rituals created by the thralls of the Bright Saint were just rituals. Stupid and shiny, they had no more point than combing out rat fur. Funny people.

  The string fell silent, and I felt it was time for me to go. Darkness crawled up to my feet, coiling around me like a giant snake. I bent down, my fingers sliding along its smooth cold scale. The soul of the palace? No surprises there. What else could it be, considering the current situation? Only a venomous viper.

  But from now on, we were one. My power would feed it, and it would protect me. Supreme necromancy and blood magic. And don’t tell me that nothing good could ever come out of dark rituals. A knife could be used to cut your food—or a person. It is your choice.

  When I got back, everyone was sleeping, and I fell into my bed, finally relaxing.

  Should I try to sleep? But tomorrow, it will be a hard day, just like every other day in that snake nest.

  That was when the whole crown business started. Right then, not later, as the chronicles would say. Everything was decided, and destiny chose its course, rushing forward in a torrent. I still could go away, die, marry, divorce...whatever I wanted. But all of this would be done by the king of Radenor.

  The true king.

  ***

  Tommy hadn’t noticed anything, and as usual, I woke up early. In the countryside, we had risen with the sun, but that wasn’t the case in the royal palace. Rudolph had never opened his eyes before the eleventh bell. What was I to do? Have a stroll around the castle, of course. Maybe I could find some food?

  Tom offered to take me to the city with him, but I refused. I would find time for that later; right then, I wanted to have some alone time and think about the previous night. Was it a dream? The silver-black bracelet was cold on my skin and the only way to remove it was to cut my arm off. The symbol of Radenor was painted on it with simple, practiced strokes—my country, my responsibility—and one word, Alethar.

  The one who had created it, who had worn it, who had given himself and his family all for its sake. How did that bracelet get there after the death of its wearer?

  I didn’t know, but I was ready to believe in any miracle. Necromancy was capable of so much more than simply raising zombies. There were rituals, power, magic, including the magic of blood.

  And transferring power from Alethar to me...among others. That was no dream.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about the royal palace. On the one hand, it looked stunning. Everything was draped in luxury, at least in the style Rudolph understood it to be.
Lots of gold and gems, weapons hanging on the walls, portraits of the awe-inspiring king who was vanquishing one thing or another. I wondered what exactly it was. Ah, here, got it. On each painting, Rudolph was in the foreground, his loyal subjects triumphant (of course) in the viewers’ seats behind him. His Majesty’s grand victories in the jousts. I snorted derisively at a portrait. Was it so hard to reduce taxes instead of hanging your gilded mug all over the place and holding tournaments? People were dying of hunger, and you didn’t give a hoot.

  “Oh, look, our backwoods guest likes His Majesty’s portraits,” somebody snidely remarked from behind my back. “He’s been standing there for twenty minutes like a stuffed dummy...”

  So what if I was? I was contemplating. Of course, thinking wasn’t in vogue in the palace. Now, if I were breaking wind—that would garner me some understanding. Thinking was unworthy of a true knight.

  “So let him stand there. His Majesty likes only ladies, so our friend here has no chance,” another voice chimed in, like two peas in a pod.

  “Even if he had two braids instead of one,” the first voice again. “Although, if he’s interested, I do have an acquaintance who fancies tight-bottomed boys. Hey, backwater—”

  I turned around slowly, demon blood boiling in my veins. What I would give to slash them with my tail wherever it would hit! They would die of poison, writhing in pain. But I couldn’t. Not yet, not with my claws. Still, with half-demons, even their tongue is a weapon. I smiled politely, staring right into the eyes of the two nobles. One of them, dressed in a blue doublet, was a bit taller than the other, his face resembling a scared rat. The other was a bit shorter and plump, almost like a balloon on round legs.

  I bowed slightly.

  “Gentlemen, excuse me for not sharing your proclivities, but I prefer battles and women. As a true noble, I also promise not to tell anyone about your close association with boy-lovers.”

  I put an emphasis on the words “close association” with a cheeky grin. With a delay of half a minute, they finally got it.

  “How dare you insult us, you lout!” the thin one said, outraged. Aha! That’s who had spoken first. Well, I have no pity for him.

  “Really, gentlemen. I should not have insulted you. I had promised my teacher not to make fun of the pathetic. Excuse me, then. It seems that you had already drawn the short straw upon your birth.”

  I gave them a mocking bow.

  “You! Just you wait!” The plump one was indignant. I looked him over, from one hip to the other.

  “Wait for what? For you to sit on me and crush me to death? Pardon me, but I’m fairly sure I’ve already said that I prefer women.”

  That drew a few unsure laughs from the left. I glanced there. Right. You were never alone in the royal palace—there was another bunch of courtiers. Where could I go to hide from them?

  Distracted, I almost missed the moment when I got a handkerchief thrown in my face. I caught it and used it to defiantly wipe the sole of my boot.

  “Sir! You are a lout! I demand satisfaction!”

  “Then you’re barking up the wrong tree,” I explained to him patiently. How thick were they? “As I said, I prefer women.”

  The laughs became more pronounced.

  “I challenge you to a duel, you bumpkin! Will you accept it, or should I denounce you as a coward?” the thin one shrieked.

  “I do, I do,” I said, brushing him off. “What about your friend? Is he not insulted?”

  “Ronald will kill you anyway, you snotnose,” the other one hissed angrily. “But if you want to...”

  I used the second handkerchief for my other boot.

  “Excuse me, sirs. Too much dung here, nowhere to step.”

  “You cad! A brute and a dunce!” the fat one hissed. I sent him an even nastier smile.

  “So, could you tell me when you want your...satisfaction?”

  “Right this very instant!” The bony one blew up. “There is a dueling ground behind the Rose Pavilion! There you shall stay! And then, your bones shall be cast down into a waste pit; I will make sure of it!”

  A crooked grin appeared on my lips. “I cannot promise you the same, stranger. I am no fly and have no interest in waste. Gentlemen, does anybody wish to be my second? And the seconds of these...sirs. I wouldn’t want anyone thinking we didn’t observe the rules.”

  Three young men broke away from a bunch of courtiers standing in the distance. Two headed toward the nobles, and one—confident and resolute—to me.

  “I would be honored to become your second,” he said, staring me in the eyes. He was pretty short, a few years older than me, and had seemed more like a lover of tasty food, girls, and wine...at first…until you saw the cold look of his grey eyes, and you knew that you had made a grave mistake. A person with such eyes would never waste his life partying. He realized that I knew his secret and smiled a bit—but in a second, his eyes were covered by his long eyelashes, his expression changed, and the man who was standing in front of me was a classic, proper “one of the boys”. I really should take him up for a couple of lessons. No magic, yet a masterful disguise.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Rene Louis Morinar, Viscount Morinar. I have to warn you, young sir; you’re making some dangerous enemies right now.”

  I shook my head. “I’m Alex Radenor. Alexander Leonard Radenor. And I won’t make any enemies today. After all, dead men tell no tales.”

  Rene grinned. My words clearly were to his liking.

  “Are you going to kill them?”

  “Yes. Both of them. The sooner, the better.”

  “Then their families will complain to the king.”

  “About what?” I pretended to be surprised. “I'm the one who should be complaining! There I was, looking at the painting that showed His Majesty’s heroic deeds, and they go and start insulting me. And what did those two dare to say about the king? A beating wouldn’t be enough to pay for that. Especially since you would make sure that the duel would proceed as it should, by the book. What would be the excuse to complain?”

  Rene nodded. “I will make sure of this. But if you kill them, you will have to sleep with one eye open and keep a dagger under your pillow.”

  “Really? And here I thought I came here to relax and have some fun,” I sneered.

  “If that’s your idea of fun, I will have to take pity on our poor nobles,” Rene retorted.

  “No big deal. Let them know that some people won’t stay and take it.”

  We smiled widely in unison. Well, I was starting to like Rene. Right then two noble seconds approached us.

  “Baron Ralf Laurent Lirrio,” the tall one in a green doublet introduced himself. The color of this clothes gave him a startling resemblance to a frog—just as green, pop-eyed, and stupid-faced.

  “Marquis Leonid Voldemar Leclaire,” the other said and bowed.

  “My pleasure, gentlemen.” I nodded politely.

  “Your rules?” Rene asked sharply.

  “Our duelists offer you a sword fight to the death.”

  “Both of them?” Rene took a quick glance at me. I lowered my eyelashes a bit—go on, agree.

  “Yes. Both of them. First blood doesn’t count.”

  “Alex, do you agree with this offer? If not, I can discuss a duel to the first blood or to fight with something that suits you better...”

  I would prefer a curved boarding saber, but would these two agree? Never. Anyway, a sword would be enough for killing them.

  “Fine,” I dropped casually.

  The noble winced, as if I had stuffed a lemon inside his mouth, and waved his hand. “Then I ask you to proceed to the Rose Pavilion.”

  “Unfortunately, I have no idea where this Rose Pavilion is located. After all, I hail from a backwoods place. Could you show me the way, please?”

  “I will show you the way...to hell!” the noble hissed, and the two of them went ahead. I followed them, smiling, Rene at my side, a crowd of courtiers behind me.

&nbs
p; I was pleased. I had to make the entire court so afraid of me that they would already be scared when they learned about my demonic nature. So scared they’d pee their pants. That would decrease the number of assassination attempts—and really, they would never love me anyway. Let them fear me, at least. I didn’t want to have to kill too many of them.

  The Rose Pavilion was quite pretty. The building was not very high, but wide and solid-looking. Vines of briar roses covered its walls from floor to roof, their fragrance so sweet I wanted to cut a piece of the air and take it back with me.

  I wanted to go there often—just to have a taste of this aroma that reminded me of mountain rosehip so much.

  Really, why do I have to waste time on those two dummies? Why do I have to kill someone instead of just sitting there, basking in the sun? Warm rays of sunlight fell on the yard that these idiots had re-purposed as a dueling ground. The flowers were blooming, and the birds were chirping.

  So nice... Fine. I will be honorable because they led me to this place, I will grant these idiots a quick death.

  Meanwhile, they had stopped and were watching me with unspeakable contempt.

  “Are you ready to die, you country boy?” the taller one hissed. The fat guy was trying to catch his breath. How is he going to kill me, if just a walk at a brisk pace made him lose his breath? He’ll probably try to smoosh me with his bulk or thinks he won’t have to fight me. Too bad for him.

  “I hope you’ve drawn up your wills?” I inquired graciously. “It does not concern you, dear sir, with such interesting friends, as I have no intentions of giving you time for that, but your voluminous associate might have a couple of minutes to bequeath his last testament—in short.”

  “I am Ronald Bernard Muerlath! Viscount Muerlath, you lout! And I challenge you to a duel, right here and now!”

  I snarled.

  “And I am Alexander Leonard Radenor. You may simply call me Your Highness, Viscount Muerlath... What about your friend?”