Demon of Destruction

by M. R. Mathias

  "How fair ye, Hannival?" the king asked loudly. Big H knelt and bowed his head.

  Chureal had to yank Braxton's sleeve to get him to realize he must also bow. Cryelos was already down on one knee with his head lowered. Nervously, Braxton looked at the elf and mimicked his posture.

  "Rise and answer yeer king," the queen said kindly.

  "Yes, Hannival. How fair ye?" the king repeated.

  "I bare grave news for ye." Big H's voice shook. "I have failed as champion of First Prince Darblin, and he now lies dead at the hand of the demon Pharark. It should have been me, not your mighty son, who lost his life."

  There was a long silence while the king took this in. A sob escaped the queen.

  Murmurs of what was just said spread back to the mostly silent crowd beyond them. The wailing of a distant woman carried over it all.

  Braxton watched the king’s face redden, and a worm-like vein rose on his forehead. He looked as if he might order them all killed. Oddly though, he didn’t look surprised at the news of his eldest son’s death.

  "Failed!" The king yelled at Big H. "You, Hannival Hammerhead, have not failed your kingdom. Your kingdom has failed you and your honorable family."

  Clearly confused, Big H looked up at his king.

  "While you were bravely serving your people, the trolls trapped and enslaved over two hundred of our kin." The king's voice was loud and reminded Braxton of how Darblin spoke when he was in his cups. "Hooper was one of them, and right after he was rescued from a cage, he chose to return and fight alongside my remaining son. He gave his life for the good of us all, as did me boy Darblin, I'm sure."

  Big H didn't say a word. He looked at his king. He reached to his back, removed Darblin's axe from where it hung with his war hammer and held it out. Tears of sadness, and what appeared to be rage, streamed down his face. He began to tremble and shake, then he reared back and let out a horrible, pain-filled yell that ended with every single eye in the great chamber full of tears.

  The king stood and took the jewel-encrusted battle axe from Big H's hands and held it high. "For yeer brother and for me son, and for all them dwarves who gave their lives fighting those blasted trolls—" his eyes locked on Braxton's then, and he nearly crumbled under the weight held in them, but the king gathered himself and didn't falter as he went on, "— and more importantly, for the future of our kingdom, and the kingdoms willing to fight beside us, I declare war. This demon Pharark and all who side with him must be stopped."

  He tapped the great jeweled axe on each of Big H's shoulders, then presented it back to him.

  "You are now a champion of the entire kingdom, Hannival Hammerhead, and you are relieved of service henceforth, for your family has already paid too great a price to lose you too."

  "No, my king," Hannival yelled so that everyone could hear him. "My service cannot be complete until I avenge me brother and me prince. I beg you grant me this, for I will not stop until the demon is dead or banished from this land."

  "Ye may serve as ye wish." The king nodded, his look one of full respect. "Ye've earned the right. Now, please, Big H, ye and yeer friends accept my hospitality. We must celebrate the glory of those who have passed, for if we cannot find joy in their passing, then their lives were wasted. Prince Gruval will be here in three days to organize a plan of action. Until then, my kingdom is yours." The king resumed his seat and raised his goblet high. "To Hooper Hammerhead and Darblin Rockheart and all the others we've lost."

  As he drank from the jeweled cup, the dwarves around them cheered and resumed their celebration.

  Braxton, like the little girl he was holding in his arms, couldn't fight back the droplets streaming down his face, nor did he want to. Darblin had been a great companion, and knowing Big H had just learned of his brother’s death, were happenings worthy of his tears.

  Chapter Seven

  Nixy, the elves, and Father Veristy sped clumsily down the road on their horses. They’d eluded the trap by simply riding through it at a full gallop. They expected to hear the sound of pursuing bandits coming up behind them but, after a while, it was apparent no one was chasing. Nixy wondered if she should stop the group and ride back and try to help the impaled man who had saved her with his warning. He would probably die soon, if he hadn't already. But to die among caring people with a priest to bless your passing had to be a better fate than dying slowly with a piece of cold steel stuck through your guts. After weighing the possible fate of the orphans she was trying to save against this, and with eyes filled with tears, she chose not to go back.

  No one suggested they do so, and Nixy decided later maybe they hadn't seen the man's slight warning, or maybe like her, they made the decision not to waste precious time on someone who could not be saved.

  By that evening, she had affirmed the rightness of her decision in her mind, but that night in her sleep, images of the skewered man haunted her. The breaking of dawn was a welcome sight.

  They rode harder that third day, partly because the elves and the priest had gotten the hang of handling the horses by then, and partly because an ever-gnawing sense of urgency was growing in all of them. By now, Reaton-Stav and his undead cohorts had been in the city long enough to do a lot of damage.

  It was starting to feel like a race against time.

  The thought of all those little ones meeting the same fate as the families they'd passed on the road was a strong motivating force for all four of them. It was painfully clear that the necromancer felt little or no pity, even for the lives of children. Oddly, that evening, when they started getting to the outskirts of the city, things were quiet. The smell of smoke drifted toward them from deeper Antole, and it was too thick and pungent to be from cook fires but, even still, Nixy was amazed because this part of the road should have been teeming with hawkers, traders, and otherwise busy people.

  Even though the moon provided little light, she could tell most of the dwellings were buttoned up tight; gates barred, wooden shutters closed, and doors bolted. Many structures had been burned to the ground, but only broken or dismembered corpses could be seen. They figured any of the dead whole enough to fight had been turned into one of Reaton-Stav’s minions.

  They decided to keep going until they passed through the city's outer wall gate. None of the many inns were lit up. Nixy hoped that beyond the wall they could find one that would take them in. When they finally crossed the river bridge and entered the city proper, it was well past midnight. It was clear that something was terribly wrong within, for no guardsmen manned the entry and not a sound could be heard. The normally lamp-lit main road was dark and smelled horribly of death and smoke. They rode on, not knowing what to expect and decided they couldn't stop to rest until they knew the fate of the orphanage. They passed a few more burned-out structures and an inn that was left wide open. Not much later, they heard and saw why the rest of the town was so quiet.

  Several large buildings were on fire, and hundreds of people watched on while hundreds more helped the city guards fight the blaze, though the fire looked to be winning the battle. It looked to be a church that was burning, and even though they weren't yet close to the orphanage, Nixy's heart began to race, and she urged the others on.

  Through the course of the night, they passed several more similar fires and found there were still plenty of people alive in Antole. The ones who weren't helping fight the fires or tend the wounded seemed to be holed up in their homes. Knowing that this city never really slowed down, not even in the wee hours, told Nixy that Reaton-Stav had done enough to make them all afraid.

  When they finally reached the orphanage, the sun was coming up on a cold, still morning. To Nixy's relief, everything seemed to be well with her childhood home, but before the group made it up to the fancy iron gate surrounding the courtyard, shouts that the city was now under attack came ringing through the streets and alleyways.

  "The gothicans are in the city," one panicked man yelled.

  "They are coming in from the east," yelled another.
With the shouts the city of Antole instantly came back to life. Doors flew open and families carrying arm loads of things filled carts and wagons as they tried to flee the wrath of the legendary gothican barbarians.

  "We must hurry," said Father Veristy, motioning for someone to climb the iron gate and open it from the inside.

  Nixy was in a daze, but she slid off Prism anyway. Savon beat her to the task, and before she even had a foot on the ground, he was on the other side and the gate was swinging open.

  The priest wasted no time and charged right in. "Find at least three wagons and take them out beyond the river bridge before the streets have a chance to clog with panicked folks," he called over his shoulder. "Make no mistake. We must be quick about this."

  Nixy was thankful for him, for she was at a loss over what to do. Part of her wanted to run away and protect the life growing inside of her, and part of her wanted to hide behind the locked gate and doors of the orphanage, but she ended up following Thaelos and Savon back out into the city in search of wagons to buy or steal.

  Already, the lane was filling with people who were either strapped with weapons to go fight the gothicans on the eastern side of the city or trying to carry their lives in any manner they could and get to the river bridge to the west.

  "You should go help the priest," Thaelos told Nixy over the shouting frantic people.

  "You're right," she answered. "I should." Before she left she put a hand on Thaelos' shoulder. "Take the wagons out on the west road." She handed Thaelos the bag of coins Suclair had given her. "It is the road that leads to Sonly and the Little Mountains. I know you’ve seen it on the maps. There will be signs pointing the way, or you can ask. Wait for us at the first Y you come to."

  Thaelos nodded, then threw his hood over his head to hide his elven features. "Savon, go with Nixy. Make sure she gets back to the orphanage and help her and the priest." His words were spoken as an order, not a request. "I will see all of you at the first Y on the western road to Sonly." He then leapt into Bolt's saddle and spurred the horse down the street before either of the other two could say a word.

  It took three times as long to get back to the orphanage as it had to leave. The temples sitting on either side of it were filling with people seeking the advice of their priests and the wisdom of their gods. But once they passed those crowds, the street in front of the orphanage was relatively calm in comparison.

  Several panicked women, mothers as they were called, though they were not nuns, just good people who cared for the parentless children, hurried to and fro through the courtyard trying to calm and organize the excited and terrified children. Two of them, Nixy saw, were frantic, trying to make sure that each child had shoes and a coat, or at least a blanket. Father Veristy had just gotten them to line up in two rows to take a count of them by name when Nixy came through the gate. The children immediately flocked to her, screaming and asking questions. Nixy had to scream at them authoritatively, something she'd never done before, to get them back in line. The tone she used, and possibly the worried expression on her face, was enough to get the older ones to understand this was serious business, and they helped by herding the younger ones back in the line.

  It took more time than it should have for the mothers and the bustling priest to be convinced that all were present and accounted for and dressed warm enough to travel. There were thirty-two children in all, ranging from four years old to fifteen, as well as two infants, one toddler, and an eight-year-old boy named Palon, who had lost one of his legs in the fire that killed his parents when the roof caved in on him as he was being shoved out the window.

  Father Veristy took a rope and tied loops in it. He tied one end around the waist of a large woman who was carrying one of the infants, then put a loop around the wrist of each child in one of the lines, cinching it down as he went. The other end of the rope he tied to the mother who was holding the other infant in her arms.

  He repeated the process on the other line with another rope, and after a short conversation between he and Nixy, and two of the mothers, it was decided he and the toddler were to ride alongside one of the lines while Nixy and Palon were to ride alongside the other. Savon was going to ride a little ahead of them and force a way through the crowd. All of the mothers and children were told that their destination was the Y in the western road, where wagons were waiting to carry them to Sonly and, eventually, to Jolin by ship. If anyone became separated, hopefully they would be able to get there on their own and wouldn’t get left behind.

  "The streets are packed with scared people," Nixy shouted over Palon's head to them all. "Stay close and do your best not the get separated. You older children help your mothers and Father Thirsty manage the little ones." She then took a deep breath and motioned for Savon to lead them out of the courtyard, and like two dirty brown caterpillars they inched their way out of the gate side by side.

  "Are you scared?" Nixy asked Palon as they waited for the end of the lines to clear the gate. She could feel him shaking a little bit where he sat in front of her in Prism's saddle.

  He nodded that he was. He had a tear running down his dirty face, and it instantly melted her heart. "This horse is named Prism, and he is the fastest horse in the entire kingdom." As if he was listening, Prism nodded and snorted his agreement. This caused Palon's face to light into a smile.

  "Can he understand you?" the boy asked over his shoulder.

  "Ask him," she said, giving the horse a loving pat on the rump.

  "Can you understand me, Prism?" Palon asked.

  The horse snorted and stomped his feet, and Palon and Nixy both chuckled away a little of their fear. By the time the gate was clear, the boy was at ease, and Nixy's nerves had calmed considerably.

  It was slow going and frustrating. People were too concerned with themselves and their own families to pay attention, and more than once, someone tried to cut through the lines only to get tangled in the ropes and cursed by the suddenly vicious protective mothers.

  In all it seemed to be going fairly well, though, and they were making progress. It wasn't until they were a little over halfway across the river bridge, and very near the start of the western road, that the unthinkable happened.

  From out of the crowd he came, and Nixy caught his smell but a little too late. The walking corpse of a peddler walked right into the line of children on the left and began slashing and cutting wildly with a dagger. An arrow appeared in its neck and Nixy knew Savon had loosed the shaft, but it had little effect on the man because he was already dead.

  "Prism, you take care of this boy," Nixy said as she slid out of the saddle and charged, drawing her sword. Prism bolted toward the others, and Palon was forced to hold on just to stay seated.

  Nixy ran as fast as she could, and with a mighty swing of her sword, she took the zombie's head off, but not before it killed two young girls and badly wounded a little boy. The rope was also cut, and the children to the front had been led away by the terrified mother tied to the far end.

  Another of the living corpses appeared and began walking stiffly toward Nixy. She glanced at the injured boy's wounds, but the zombie was coming with a sword raised. One of the children tethered in the line that was still connected to the injured boy screamed out in terror at his approach. Nixy cut the line so the others could get away before she turned to meet her fate. She knew there was no time to defend herself for the corpse was already on her, so she stood over the boy in hopes of protecting him.

  Just before the blade would've caught her at the collar, Prism mule kicked the dead man away. Palon, with a one-handed horse breaker's grip, and the other arm flailing wildly in the sky, somehow managed to stay in the saddle, which gave the children still tethered in the line just enough time to get across the bridge.

  With a sigh of relief as much for her own life as for the children's, Nixy bent down to the boy bleeding in the street. The wound was deep, and terrible, and when she looked up, searching for someone to help her, her heart froze in her chest. The
crowd was parting wide as a young man who she knew had to be Reaton-Stav stalked toward her with a wicked grin on his face.

  "Nixy," Palon yelled from nearby. "Come on!"

  She couldn't leave the boy to die alone in the street, she just couldn't.

  "No, Palon," she yelled back. "Prism, take the boy to the others. Take him to Bolt. That way." She pointed westward. The horse snorted and balked a moment, then finally charged away.

  "Someone help me. Help this child," Nixy yelled to the passersby. Her voice might as well have been coming from underwater for, suddenly, the wild stares and movements of them all slowed strangely. She knew that Reaton-Stav had recognized her and had somehow bewitched them, or her.

  "They can't hear you, Lady Nixalia," Reaton-Stav called out.

  Ignoring him, she looked frantically around at the shimmering people. "Somebody help him. Save him." Tears of terror welled in her eyes now. "Save this little boy. What is wrong with you people?" She looked down at the confused child, bleeding out on the cobbles before her. "It is me you want, you monster!" she yelled at the necromancer who had stopped a few paces away from her with an expression of mock concern on his face.

  "No, you stupid twat," he said. His expression twisting into one of pure hatred. "It's Braxton Bray's medallion I want." He looked menacingly at the boy, and then back at her for a few moments, then his expression changed as if an idea had occurred to him. "My master will reward me greatly for Braxton’s head you know, and you will bring he and his medallion to me. Your little bastard friend there is in luck, for he will ensure you perform another task for me back at the Sorcerious."

  "Let him go," she begged through tear-filled eyes. "He is just a little boy. What has he ever done to you? I'll do what you want if you let him go."

  "No, Nixy. You will do what I ask, because if you don't, I will kill this little maggot slowly." He growled, then took a long step forward and kicked her in the face with his hard leather boot, sending her onto her back.