Half-Demon's Revenge

by Lina J. Potter

I was left sitting on the cloak inside the drawn pentagram, looking at the five corpses. Was that despicable? I had felt no remorse when I killed in battle, attacked the templars, even murdered my uncle. But at that moment...

  I will remember their faces till the day I die. The second one was younger than me, seventeen at most, the fourth had a birthmark on his cheek, and the fifth, a hickey on his neck. He probably hadn’t wasted time last night. And I killed them, cut them down like cattle. I know that it was evil. Yes, they came to us and were our enemies, but they wanted a fair fight, and deserved it.

  And I...I will probably be cursed. But can a half-demon be cursed?

  Screams of horror carried from the Tevarrian camp. What was going on there? Demons were feasting, what else? And when those creatures were feasting...I shuddered to think what would be left of the soldiers.

  I wondered what my family would say. No use crying over spilled milk? Most likely.

  Yet I still felt nauseous, for some reason, that creepy, nasty, dreary, soul-sucking feeling...

  What else could I do, however, in that situation? The army was in shambles, the neighbor was waiting to attack us, the troops were being led to a slaughter, I don’t know how else to say it.

  And don’t even get me started on the commanders. For twenty years, Abigail’s family had been picking the army clean of anybody who could disrupt their stealing. Naturally, there were no decent people left there. And I? Who was I? I was no commander, just a necromancer, and not even the best. I was powerful, yes, but was I skilled? I wasn’t sure.

  I wasn’t sure of anything.

  And so I sat on the cloak, propping my head up with my hand and listening to the screams, feeling world-weary.

  Was I destined to be lonely?

  ***

  Argadon left at dawn, and his army with him. They were a gruesome sight. Well, they hadn’t been nice to look at from the get-go, but clutching pieces of bloody flesh in their claws and paws and fangs and teeth, all smeared in blood, some of them wearing human guts as bandoliers, they could creep out anyone.

  Ak-kvir stayed, baring his bloody teeth at me.

  “What are your orders, Master?”

  I made sure that no other demon other than him was nearby and broke the protective circle. I came out of the pentagram and dusted myself off.

  My next task was to clean up.

  I left the bodies where they were, took the cloak with me. The dagger, the candles...is that all?

  Ak-kvir dutifully let me mount him and darted off. I released him not far from our camp and got a look full of devotion. You bet! So much food each time. I covered the rest of the distance on foot. My absence, however, had been noticed, and six colonels were waiting for me in the camp. “What are you sitting around for?” I greeted them.

  “Your Majesty? You...um...”

  They were hesitant to ask me where I had been. But...

  “Are you going to accompany me on dates, too?” I asked mockingly. “Maybe even support and direct me in the most intimate moments as well? With sage advice?”

  They relaxed a bit, being used to such situations. So the king went carousing...it happens. That had been Rudolph’s favorite pastime, after all, instead of marches.

  Why hadn’t I warned them?

  Anticipating that question, I roared, “Do I have to report to you? Why aren’t all the troops arranged?”

  They rushed from the tent, and I threw the parcel in the corner, to put it inside a chest later.

  That was bad.

  Somebody would definitely connect my absence with the Tevarrian army’s demise. But what choice did I have?

  “Your Majesty...it’s...”

  The lead scout was pale, his hands shaking as he spoke.

  “There are...scouts.”

  “And?”

  “They have a report...”

  “Then get them here.”

  Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, I was about to hit the roof. And also to commit patricide.

  Freaking Argadon!

  What a bastard!

  That was a real set-up!

  My scouts were my people, my subjects, and of course that jerk didn’t touch them. And so, that was what they saw: a small demon, a grey-skinned, tailed creature, had been riding another demon! Then he had summoned an entire host of demons, and they went to slaughter the Tevarrian army!

  I could barely hold back curses, but still managed to get more details.

  Apparently, everything wasn’t as bad as it seemed. They had noticed Ak-kvir and I when we knocked out the sentries and had decided to follow us. It made sense, considering how odd we must have looked.

  Thankfully, I had been in my demonic form and had never switched from it. They had seen the rest, however.

  The summoning, the instructions, Argadon’s oath...

  Good thing they couldn’t remember it word-for-word, but still! A demon had summoned his father to help Radenor! A DEMON! Was he RADENORIAN?! Impossible! It cannot be because it cannot be! What a load of nonsense!

  Upon hearing them out, I asked,

  “So, where did the demon go?”

  As it happens, those dolts had been waiting and watching us until the demons started tearing the Tevarrians apart, after which they had finally decided to get away, scared. What if something happened to them too? An oath was an oath, but they were demons! They might eat first, remember later... So he probably had remained there. What could happen to him, really? Or maybe he ran away...

  Basically, they had no idea.

  I ordered my men to reward the scouts, and noticed the colonels exchanging odd looks. They were clearly suspecting something—probably, not that I had summoned the demons, more likely that I had found a necromancer somewhere and was hiding him from the people so he wouldn’t get burned. And in return for that, he rendered me his services.

  Well, innocent until proven a necromancer, so...

  I commanded the army to prepare to march out. Why? Because if the demon had stayed there, we would need an army to handle him. If he summoned another demon army, we would have to fight them, too. And if not... Well, we would bury the men. We couldn’t abandon them, after all.

  The colonels agreed and went to make arrangements, while I buried the bundle deeper inside the chest and contemplated. The situation wasn’t very auspicious.

  I could rule, true. But what if everybody hated me? That meant plots and intrigues, and I had more than enough problems on my plate as it was.

  And then, there was the Church—a powerful player, mind you.

  The army marched out. I led the way, thinking that Argadon really was a total bastard. What a setup!

  On the other hand...who had forced me to stay quiet? I could have asked Ak-kvir if anybody alive was nearby...

  Ak-kvir was a bastard, too.

  ***

  We found the Tevarrian army right where the demons had left them, in two days’ journey. An army’s journey, of course. The scouts had been much faster, obviously, even if they had ridden their horses to death, and on Ak-kvir’s back, half an hour had been enough...Ugh, I would have loved to summon him back and give him a good old lashing, with a silver whip to boot!

  There wasn’t much to look at—a real slaughterhouse. Human remains were scattered across the grass, having had time to rot, decay, and attract all the local flies, while the stench of death permeated the air—a horrific sight.

  Upon seeing all that, most of the soldiers had to step aside and puke their guts out. Then, they started digging the graves, silent, sullen, and expressing their tender feelings for the demons in the most explicit form. Of course, their affections included such things as driving swords, sabers, daggers, and other piercing and slashing weapons through their bodies in a particularly perverted manner. Keep dreaming, boys.

  Then the army returned back to camp, hand in hand. Nobody felt like a winner. I sent a messenger to Tevarr, informing them that their force had been beaten, that they would have to pick a new king, oh, and
that the crown is attached—one of the demon’s idea of amusement had, apparently, included impaling Kristof’s head on the top of a small fir-tree and decorating it with innards. I didn’t abandon my claim, however.

  Give me the duchy, here and now. What if another accident happens? Will we have to pay you another visit?

  ***

  Radenor wasn’t especially excited to meet us. Morinar clearly hadn’t wasted any time.

  The streets were being patrolled, the corpses of criminals were hanging on the square, but the walls were freshly repaired, and the ditch, clean. The roads were also being paved.

  Maybe the executions had had an effect? Going by his report, that was true.

  I had barely started reading when Abigail burst into my study.

  “Alexander! That is unacceptable!”

  “What is, Auntie?”

  Of course, it was Morinar, who dared to make lists of thieves and stolen properties, had shut down Abigail’s attempts to continue in this vein, all in all, was behaving in an absolutely disgusting manner and forcing everyone to obey the law. What a degenerate!

  I had to calm her down. Don’t worry, we don’t execute innocents. If Morinar made a mistake, I will sort everything out.

  He suspects your family?! That cannot be! They are famed throughout Radenor for their honesty! That has to be a mistake! You shouldn’t agitate yourself so much, you’re carrying the heir to the throne...by the way, how is the child? Is it kicking already? Can I listen? What do the midwives say?

  Now it was Abigail’s turn to worm her way out. However, she had born four children, so she did know the subject matter well enough. Still, that made her leave soon.

  As for Morinar’s lists, I approved all of them, making a single exception for the Chartreuses. It wasn’t time yet. For the next three months, everything was quiet. A certain value of quiet, that is.

  I was hanging the thieves, which earned the admiration of the common folk, dealing with the army, the taxes, the laws, drawing on a sea of edicts.

  A letter from Tevarr arrived, saying that they were unable to keep fighting and were giving me the duchy on a silver platter.

  The Riolonians wrote as well. Darius congratulated me on my victory and asked if I wanted to share some of my trophies with him. Seeing as his help had been late to arrive, I declined. He would have to do without it.

  In return, Darius asked me if I was afraid of the consequences of that decision. I wasn’t. I was more worried about the other stuff. The Church had started a full-on investigation, and servitors were flocking around that clearing, looking for traces of magic.

  The other problem was Carlie. She was already seven months pregnant, and if I really wanted to outplay the Chartreuses, it was time to take drastic measures.

  ***

  There were two options: either Carlie agreed to everything by her own will and I hid her, or she didn’t.

  I let her decide. Maybe I was hoping for something, for old time’s sake. What an idiot...

  Her reaction wasn’t surprising. Well, it was, a little bit, but Mistress Eliza had helped me. She had given me a full recounting of what would happen and how.

  Why had I gone to Mistress Eliza? Well, a baby needs nurses, milkmaids...where would I get them? At court? Please. The brothel was a better option. There were way more decent women there.

  “Have you lost your mind? What do you mean, go away? From my husband? Leave the court? Go into hiding? Don't even start with that!”

  “Do you want to die, then? Or do you think Abigail will ask you first?”

  Carlie shuddered. “You won’t let her hurt me, will you?”

  She was still so beautiful. So enticing, despite her pregnancy. She was probably one of those women who only got prettier after giving birth. She had no swelling or marks, just a bigger belly and a light in her eyes.

  “I can’t guard you all the time, and Abigail...for her, your child is a question of life and death. Or a question of power, if you will. She will do everything.”

  “I won’t go to Torrin!”

  “Not to Torrin.”

  “Where, then?”

  “I have a castle. It’s in the woods and abandoned, but...”

  “No way! Don’t even ask!”

  I wasn’t planning to, and neither was I planning on explaining to her that Abigail could very well go as far as to kidnap Carlie and cut the baby out of her, literally. She was no child. She should have realized that.

  By then, Abigail had turned from a shrew into a real she-wolf. She saw that power was slipping away from her grasp and couldn’t do anything about it. If she could, she would have torn me apart with her nails, but no such luck. And the number of women she foisted on me!

  Tom complained that his guys were all but fighting for the honor of standing guard at my doors. Of course they were. All those women had to come through them first, and I officially permitted them to take all bribes, including...intimate services, as long as nobody got to my chambers. The guards were eager to try; they took everything they were offered but didn’t let anybody in.

  Chartreuse objected, but that part of the royal guard was under Tom’s command, and the latter stood by his own through thick and thin.

  Meanwhile, Abigail waited, using bigger and bigger pillows to mask her non-existent pregnancy and following Carlie around like a hungry cobra. And finally...

  I wouldn’t have spoken to Carlie without a good reason. Over those three months, I did everything to ensure I had a home front. Namely, I summoned ghosts, and lots of them.

  There was a good selection of spirits in the city, in the noble houses. I picked them myself, choosing people who had died in a nasty way, like thieves, murderers, and prostitutes, and found a suitable home for each of them. The main requirement was hate. For instance, into the Leclaire residence, I put the ghost of a maid who had once worked there, before her master had gotten her pregnant and kicked her out on the streets. There, the girl had gotten passed around and had died giving birth. Needless to say, she wasn’t exactly crazy for the Leclaires. And there were lots of other examples.

  Hate makes a soul stay in this world. One look at some houses was enough to shiver. There were black clouds lingering around them: darkness, dirt, old debts...only a skilled necromancer could get rid of something like that.

  And then they were wondering, why does it keep happening, children born dead, sick adults, loads of misfortunes… What did you expect after your humble amusements? The cup of evil fills slowly, but surely, and you’ll have to drink it to the bottom.

  What will be on the bottom of my cup? Well, whatever it will be, I won’t leave it to my children. Yes, I was going to start thinking about marriage. I needed an heir.

  But that would have to wait. There were other issues at hand...

  “Alex, are you awake?”

  I was. It’s just...

  “Forgive me, Carlie.”

  The slightest movement, and the woman crumpled onto the floor. I scooped her up and headed to the secret passage. I loved my palace—it had so many hidden spots, and so many tunnels that you could lead not just the king, but an entire army out of there! If you were in on certain secrets, of course...

  Darkness slid around my boots; the guardian spirit of my palace was pleased and content. I gifted him with a smile and a fragment of my power. I would have to visit the Heart of Radenor one more time, feed it more of my blood. It wasn’t a one-time ritual, oh no. The spirit had to be fed.

  Mistress Eliza didn’t bat an eyelash when I unloaded a pregnant Carlie on her bed.

  “Is that what you were talking about, My King?”

  “Absolutely. That’s for you.”

  A heavy pouch of gold appeared on the bed.

  “Ten days. I’ll bring you more later. But nobody can know...you get it, do you?”

  “I do.”

  Where else could I hide her inside the city? Only the brothel. And honestly, if the stress triggered a premature birth, I would be glad. I don’t wish
Carlie ill, but leaving my kin in her hands? No way.

  That child was my insurance in case of emergency, and it would be brought up in Torrin. Rick could handle worse than that. If anything happened to me, the throne of Radenor would not be empty, and my country would not be destroyed.

  I kissed Mistress Eliza’s hand and headed back to the palace.

  ***

  The next day, the Chartreuses seemed somewhat subdued. And Viscount Latour...

  “Your Majesty, my wife...”

  After hearing out his anguished plea about his wife who had vanished together with his heir, I nodded. Of course, you should check the palace and question everyone, you are in your right. Go on.

  And I...sympathize with you so much. By the way, couldn’t she have left you, too? Carlie is a flighty girl, and during pregnancy, when even the most dignified women start being irrational...

  Abigail grew pale. Sure. She needed a newborn! But who would give birth? Finding a baby wouldn’t be too hard, but she needed that one specifically. Or would she get up the nerve to buy or kidnap the first baby she could get her hands on? She would, of course she would...

  Once, my mother had scraped the palace library clean. I made a mental note to return the books later. Before the princess’ departure, Abigail had never read any of them, and afterward, she couldn’t, but there was a lot of interesting reading, for instance, the personal diaries of the kings that most of them had been eager to keep. The other rulers had loved reading them—after all, one could never predict the future without knowing the past. And then, what could be worse than not knowing your own roots?

  Rudolph, however, had never loved that ignoble pursuit. Reading? Eww! Now, breaking horses, jousting, and sword-swinging, that was his forte. Hmm, I really would need at least three children; Alethar forbid some of them turn out like their uncle!

  Anyway, Rudolph had never read the old diaries, and too bad for him, as they contain a lot of important information, such as the blood requirement for the Radenor monarchs. Abigail might not have known it at all, as that test had not been performed for a long time. It had just turned out that there hadn’t been a need. Everybody knew that if a non-Radenor sat on its throne, they would burn. But knowing and believing were different things.