Green Agate Pretender (Demon Lord Book 9)

by Morgan Blade

  The girl wore a white gown cinched with blue ribbons like those in her hair. The sky-tone matched her wide, staring eyes. In her hands, clutched to her modest breasts, the Phoenix Court tie glittered, a serpentine crystal mixing green, blue, and purple.

  Here was one of the prizes I needed.

  Oddly, the Phoenix King wasn’t here. He hadn’t been on the battlefield either. Apparently, he hadn’t wanted to leave his kingdom—or he was ailing. I wondered how long he’d been the king. Maybe nature death was overtaking him finally. Fey are long-lived, but not immortal—usually.

  Those gathered in the tent stared at the sword, unable to see me. The shock passed quickly as one of the mages extended a palm in a thrusting gesture. The gold brushwork on his sleeve detached and fluttered like a butterfly swarm. The writing swirled in front of my sword’s point, forming a disk in the air, some kind of animated spell circle.

  I didn’t wait for the spell to activate, flicking the sword in a wave-like motion that cut the pattern, leaving lines of golden dragon magic in the air. The brush strokes I cut fell to the ground, splattering like slush. Those still intact fluttered back to the mage’s sleeve, in full retreat.

  As if the fallen brush strokes were magical seed, the ground cracked and gnarled, hairy roots bucked up, weaving themselves into a loose barrier. I planted my sword point-first in the frozen ground and floated around the writhing roots.

  I drifted around the mages, approaching the girl with the tie. Her brother edged in front of her, a silver dagger in his hand. There were elven markings etched into the metal. An enchanted object. His wary eyes stayed on my sword. On his left hand, he wore his father’s signet ring, giving him charge of his father’s troops.

  Slipping a ghostly hand behind the girl, I generated a spark of dragon magic. The tiny, golden jag goosed her. Her whole body jolted. The tie jumped a few inches out of her hands.

  I snagged it and floated up to the roof of the tent, floating over the roots. The roots stabbed at the tie, tracking its motion through the air. It looked like they were trying to reclaim the prize. Several root strands passed through my body and charred, severing in sooty sprays of soot. Dropping next to my sword, I took it in hand, whipping it across the root-cluster’s base.

  More of the gilt bush marks left the mages, swimming into the air. Three spell circles formed.

  I hurled myself backwards, out the slashed side of the tent. Guards were running up, eyes on my sword. If I were earthbound, they’d have trapped me. I willed myself to streak higher, climbing into the sky, sword in one hand, tie in the other.

  Looking down, I watched the second tent explode in a copper-red blast of light. Out of the radiance, in human form, Colt rose as if carried by invisible wings. He looked at me, held up a rusty nugget of what seemed to be raw crystallized ore, and smiled. He shimmered with red-copper light that swelled into the larger shape of a dragon. The light faded, leaving a real dragon in its place, red with golden flames on his ribs.

  Huffing a couple smoke rings in triumph, he pumped wings furiously, heading back for the keep. Arrows streaked at him, but I headed them off, brandishing the sword, letting golden lightning web the air. The arrows were incinerated. We flew higher, faster, adding in a few strategic zigs and zags on general principle. Colt and I worked without the need for words, and soon descended on the battlements. He went from dragon to kid in a flash, and dropped to land lightly next to the Oracle, holding the Autumn court tie.

  I tossed him the Phoenix Court tie, and turned to face the armies below. They’d come to spoil my plans and had ended up bringing me their ties.

  How thoughtful.

  I would have thanked them, but they couldn’t hear me.

  Damn! My phantom cock ejaculated golden fire again. Pleasure jazzed through my distant body, reaching this part of my severed soul like a storm’s echo.

  Uh, Dad…?

  Don’t ask. Just look me up in an hour, and bring the ties. I have to get back to, uh, something.

  I unmade the sword, reabsorbing the energies, and sank into the keep, dropping level after level, an orgy to finish. There are times I really love being me.

  FOURTEEN

  “No idiot likes confirmation

  of the role he plays.”

  —Caine Deathwalker

  The orgy finally ended, by which time my dick hurt—lots— and I walked funny. I carried Izumi over a shoulder to a public bathing area used by the castle’s common folk. We needed to sluice off the remnants of excess. The gravity-fed, warm-water shower felt delightful. Afterwards, I got us and our things up to our room. Izumi collapsed on the bed, murmuring: “Wake me in a week.”

  I took a minute to magically summon black fatigues and Kevlar armor from Earth, and to dress. I buckling on my sheathed katana and completed my look by summoning a new toy I wanted to try out: my Raider AR pistol. Black and sleek, it looked like a weapon you’d see in a sci-fi action movie. Essentially, it was a combine rifle turned into a handgun, shooting .300 armor-piercing ammo. The attached magazine held forty rounds. Against ordinary handguns, it was overkill. Against fey warriors with swords and axes, it was doomsday squared.

  I assumed everything was under control because no one came yelling for me to do something about the enemy at our gates. Of course, sieges were a frequent recreational sport here in Fairy.

  Since I had time, I decided to do something that would boost my power level and cripple enemy resistance. I used the edge of the bed to layout the ties I’d acquired from Kellyn, the Oracle, and Syrah. My own tie went next to these. There was a flash of red-copper light and the rusty Autumn Court tie, and the cool-toned Phoenix Court tie appeared on the bed, giving me six in all. None of them looked like they’d come off the same original crystal heart. They’d been morphing for countless centuries to match different rulers. The slivers that had once been the Storm Court’s tie were still in the backpack.

  I piled the stones, caging them with my fingers, and flowed a gentle current of golden dragon magic through them to awaken a mineral memory of ancient days. Closing my eyes, I concentrated, trying to picture the stones fusing into a single piece. The joining wasn’t the tricky part. I wanted to claim the stones and the kingdoms they stabilized without dissolving those lands into chaos. I wanted order, continuity for the inhabitants. Hopefully, only those bonded to the ties would be affected, losing their control over their dominions. At the same time, I wanted my allies to keep the reins of their countries, while I also gained their power.

  The stones moved under my hands. Crystal chimes slid edge against edge, making discordant music. Then the tones fused, finding an enharmonic core. The sound sweetened. The stones slid into a new configuration and stopped. The tones faded, a spectral chord echoing into an infinity of its own. Long after silence returned, I still felt the music like static on my skin, or an ache in the bone. It was a promise I longed to hear again.

  Opening my eyes, I drew my hands away, straightening my back. Staring down, I saw a mostly clear sculpture of crystal with rainbow-flecked inclusions. The base had a greenish-blue blend, generating a soothing light. The overall shape had three angular spires, one of them twisting in a rusty red tangent, a demand for a still-missing piece.

  I picked up the crystal, feeling my own tie inside the mixture, its throb of magic a leaping resonation to my own magic. The You-Don’t-See-Me spell I’d once placed on my tie remained in effect, expanded to protect the whole sculpture now.

  The other parts of the sculpture sent exploratory tendrils of power into me, not really to do anything, but as a kind of recognition and welcome.

  I thought: Beautiful.

  My inner dragon opened gold-moon eyes in the shadows inside my head. He used my human eyes to view the new mega tie. He reared, scales sliding on scales. His tail gave a languid thump.

  Mine! he said.

  Ours.

  I put the sculpture in the backpack and drew it on.

  Leaving Izumi to her exhausted sleep, I went out into the hall
way. I made my way through the keep, absorbing its feel of emptiness with everyone seeing to the defenses. I climbed a turret’s spiral staircase, and reached the battlements. The fey lords and soldiers gave me slight bows of greeting as I appeared.

  I went up to the protective wall. Queen Kellyn, Syrah, and the Oracle stood with Colt. They ignored me, focused on something down below. Like Izumi, Kimberly was missing.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Queen Kellyn turned to me. “I felt you taking the reins of the land. I’m grateful you didn’t rewrite the patterns. It feels a little like a limb gone numb, not an amputation. My ice magic is as strong as ever. I appreciate you letting me pull from the Winter Court tie.”

  “From all the ties,” I said. “And you’re welcome. The Courts below will have discovered that they are stripped of Court magic.”

  Colt said, “So that’s why the field commanders are pulling back.”

  “Not far,” the Oracle said. “They are essentially helpless. If you get pissed, their whole kingdoms could be destroyed the way the Storm Court was. Everyone remembers that.”

  Queen Syrah said, “When force is inadvisable, we fey fall back on deception and trickery.”

  “Which means?” I asked.

  The Oracle said, “They will approach under a flag of truce to continue the struggle. Things are about to get…very interesting.”

  I wedged in next to Colt, looking down past his shoulder. The night had set in. Pale clouds overcasting the sky actually made the world brighter than a dark, starry sky would have. The wind had its usual cold lash, but the snowfall had completely ended. Somewhere, a wolf howled, as if to say: “Get on with it.”

  I glanced across the battlefield bonfires. The enemy soldiers clumped around them. Further back, I saw a crater where Colt had blasted his tent. The other one still stood, but looked scorched and patched. It had a lot of yellow lanterns surrounding it on poles, and there was heavy traffic as people came and went.

  The Oracle turned to me. “They are about to demand a parley. They intend to drag things out, giving spies a chance to infiltrate the keep and hunt for the missing ties. The Summer King believes you’ll have the ties on you. He plans to challenge you to single combat for all of them. He dreams of taking your place as Overlord of Fairy”

  I turned from the wall. “He’s a straight-forward kind of guy. If I beat him, do you suppose he will agree to rule under me and not plot treason every chance he gets?”

  Queen Kellyn shrugged. “It’s hard to say. He and I are temperamental opposites in personality and magic.”

  Queen Syrah stood huddled in her black cloak. Her power coming from shadow, she was partly immune to cold, but not insensitive to this extreme degree. I noticed she didn’t crowd Kellyn who radiated enough extra cold to frost the stone underfoot, the wall she touched, and anyone getting too close to her.

  Syrah said, “He’s hot-headed and impulsive with a wide streak of arrogance thrown in. Right after I became Queen of the Shadow Lands, he sent an emissary with an offer of marriage. He couldn’t believe I’d turn him down. I had to finally start killing his messengers to be left alone.”

  Colt’s voice spiked with excitement. “Hey, a bunch of guys are coming this way, under escort.”

  “Told you,” the Oracle said.

  I kept my gaze on Queen Syrah. “Would you rather not be with us when we meet him?”

  She smiled. “If you’re going to trounce the villain, I want to watch.”

  I smiled. “Oh, I’m not going to fight the Summer King. Colt is.”

  Colt wheeled away from the wall, staring at me. The shock on his face was comical. “Me? That’s not how I remember things going.”

  I looked at the Oracle. “What have you foreseen?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Odd. That piece of future has gone gray and misty.”

  I thought so. I was going against my inclination, testing the temporal flux. Colt had told me about grim events in my future; a darkening of my heart. If there was room to influence the timelines, I wanted to know.

  “Dad, if we screw up the timeline, we could make things even worse.”

  I shrugged. “Too bad we can’t save the game at this point in case things go wrong, but this is reality, not an RPG. The future is going to be built on chances, calculated and otherwise. Either the future is my personal property, or it’s not. Regrets are for weenies.”

  “The gray zone isn’t extensive,” the Oracle said. “It should be fine.’

  I stared at Colt. “What’s wrong? Scared to fight?”

  “I’m not scared!”

  “You can use your demon sword. It should be able to cut through any personal magic the Summer King still has. The fight will be down to skill and strength. He might have more skill. He’s grown up using a sword and has fought many battles. You, however, were raised by the Red Lady, and have my dragon blood and villager blood in you.”

  The Oracle’s eyes widened. “Oh, that’s interesting: a major shift has appeared. There’s a possibility of picking up a new ally who will be beneficial in years to come.”

  “Can this boy truly defeat a skilled fey warrior?” Queen Syrah asked.

  Colt glowered at her. “Of course, I can. My dad has trained me all my life. I practice with the iron gargoyles back home all the time. And they know better than to just let me win. Against something that actually bleeds, I should do pretty good.”

  “And you are my son,” I said. “But if you really don’t want to fight…”

  Colt growled under his breath at me. “I’ll do it.”

  “There was a starburst of copper-red light—but not from Colt. The light flare vanished and a stranger stood there.

  Our soldiers moved in on him, weapons brandished. The new arrival wore Colts face, only nine or ten years older. He had the same midnight red hair. In place of a hoodie, he wore black denim jeans, a black tee, and had a duplicate of Colt’s demon sword strapped to his side. A hunting knife was strapped to his right thigh. He wore fingerless, black leather gloves, and had a tattoo around his right bicep: three strands of barbwire. Several of the points had red blood drops inked on.

  He ignored the fey warriors—and the swords pointed at him—fixing his red-copper stare on his younger self. “What the friggin’ hell did I tell you? Do nothing to break the continuity between us. My knowledge of the future and our mental link safely guides your interventions. Change my future too radically, and a different me will take over. I don’t trust what I am in other timelines. You shouldn’t either.”

  “Hi,” I said. “You’re Colt’s older self, right?”

  He gave me a venomous look. “Don’t talk to me. There is so much I’m never going to forgive you for.”

  I saw in him an echo of my attitude toward my Villager father and dragon mother.

  Damn. Genetics really is destiny.

  I sighed. “Yeah, I’m a dick. Doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  His eyes narrowed. “A pretense of honesty? Another of your manipulations.” His stare went back to Colt the Younger. “You didn’t think I’d notice the new scar?”

  Younger Colt and I looked at each other. We spoke in unison: “New scar?”

  The queens moved around Colt the Elder, shooing off the guards. The blind Oracle stared at him, at the point in space he spoke from. She said: “I hear a voice, but I don’t see anyone.”

  “I’m a temporal ghost, not of this world or time. I’m in more flux than my younger self,” older Colt explained. He stabbed a finger at his other self. “Make too many wild-assed improvisations and you’ll wind up unmaking me. And I will be very pissed.”

  Colt the Younger stared at him. “Uh, what new scar?”

  Colt the Elder pulled the left side of his black tee, baring white skin with an even whiter scar across his ribs. It suggested a horrific wound had once been endured. Colt glared at his younger self. “You made mom cry over this. And we got grounded for six months.”

  “It’s not too late t
o call it off,” I said.

  Colt the Elder returned his glare to me. “Oh, no. I like the scar, so I’ll be the one to earn it. I’m fighting the Summer King, not nine-year-old me.”

  “You know how that fight will go,” I said. “Chances are you might come out without a scar at all.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever. Just don’t try and talk me out of it.”

  Queen Kellyn headed toward the turret with the spiral staircase. “Let’s go down and welcome the enemy. It is rude to keep them waiting. Not everyone enjoys the cold.”

  Older Colt put a hand on younger Colt’s shoulder to stop him a moment. “One thing, when you talk to Aleys, don’t ask her to join your harem. I have mental scars from that. And she’ll take it as a dire insult. Fey princesses all believe they’re meant for greater things. It’s how they’re raised.”

  The nine-year-old nodded emphatically. “Right. Gotcha. What should I talk about?”

  “She’ll ask you about me. Tell her the truth; I’m your future self, the future Overlord of Fairy. After that, pretty much ignore her. In time, we’ll let her ensnare us. She’s the type that needs everything to be her idea.”

  “Uh, who exactly is this girl?” I asked.

  “You’ve seen her, the one from the tent where you took the Phoenix Court tie.”

  I conjured up the memory of the blonde twin in white, wrapped with blue ribbons, eyes like pale slices of sky. “Ah, yes, she’s quite pretty. Probably hates my guts by now.”

  Older Colt turned his incandescent stare on me. The hate there went deep. “A lot of that’s going around.”

  FIFTEEN

  “A path to power is all I’ve ever wanted.

  That, a warm harem, and rivers of booze.”

  —Caine Deathwalker