Demon's Throne

by K D Robertson

  “You still threatened them at the end, though.”

  “I did, but only after they’d already made up their minds to work with me, and after offering them an easy way out.” Rys shrugged. “A lot of this is basic psychological manipulation. Stronger-willed people ignore it, as they have principles and act on them, but most people go with the flow. That applies even to people who think they’re important.”

  Fara clicked her tongue. “Watching you deal with Maria and Alsia made me think you were soft. What would have happened if they had still refused you?”

  “I would have killed one of them. Making threats and not following through on them would only make them think I’m weak.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “And that wouldn’t have made things worse?”

  “Not especially. I’d say some nonsense about how I don’t deal in threats, that this is what I do to my enemies, I did the same to Compagnon, etcetera.” Rys waved a hand in the air. “This is theater, Fara. All of it. The goal never changes. I’m just trying to minimize the amount of wasted effort in conquering people that I don’t have to.”

  “Sometimes I wonder how much of what you’re saying is genuinely evil, or if it only sounds evil because you’re so blunt about it. You don’t hide behind pretexts.” Fara scowled. “Everything you say and do messes with how I see things.”

  “Does it matter?” Rys asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “In the sense that I’m committed to you: no, it doesn’t. But it does because I want to understand you. At some point I might wake up from my selfishness and want to feel justified.”

  His hands wandered to her tails, which swiftly batted him upside the head. He chuckled.

  “Well, when you feel like talking more, I’ll be at Castle Aion. Grigor will be here later tomorrow, I imagine. Maybe the day after if he has to chase many stragglers.” Rys stood up. “We’ll have to have some celebratory drinks, just like last time. Except this time, I got to be part of the fun.”

  “You did, didn’t you?” Fara smiled. “I feel like I should reward you, given I did tell you to get out of the castle more.”

  Her tails waved in front of his face, tantalizingly close yet so far away.

  “Don’t tempt me,” he growled.

  “It’s nice to know that I can tempt you.” She giggled.

  With a flash of shadow and red light, he left her behind and teleported back to the mansion.

  He had escaped the seal temporarily. Compagnon was collapsing. His new empire rose around him, and his grip over the women around him tightened with each day.

  While he felt he deserved a rest, Rys had questions. Questions that only a certain golden wisp could answer.

  Chapter 31

  Almost nobody remained in the castle. Silence ruled the mansion, and the sub-levels were similarly deserted.

  Most of the infernals had been deployed to stop Compagnon’s offensive. Only Terry and a few demons remained behind, just in case a surprise attack was launched against the mansion. Magic surged across the grounds as the control room reconstructed the mansion according to Rys’s earlier plans.

  To Rys, it felt like a very muted celebration of a massive moment for him.

  He had escaped the seal, however briefly. Compagnon’s offensive had failed. His plans to build his own nation proceeded unimpeded, as Maria, Alsia, and Vallis were now immune to Compagnon’s influence.

  What remained to be done was even greater, of course. He still needed to announce himself king, or emperor, or whatever he planned to call himself. Propaganda was about to spread about his infernals, which would test Maria’s and Alsia’s growing political influence.

  And the Malus League lurked to the south. Their hand had been uncovered when Rys had dealt with the corrupt Kinadain elders, but he doubted that was the end of their involvement.

  Everything that Rys heard about the Malus League boded poorly for their relationship. Maria had mentioned that they enslaved demihumans. Given Rys had now aligned himself with a positive reformation of the Kinadain, he was now on a collision course with the Malus League.

  A great war for Kavolara lay just over the horizon. The question was how long Rys could put it off, because he didn’t have the resources to fight it yet. The Malus League were one of the four great nations of the archipelago.

  For the time being, Rys put the question off. He knew that the League would make a play sooner rather than later. Likely once they knew Compagnon had failed. But he couldn’t change the future by thinking about it.

  Despite how quiet everything was, one resident remained.

  Orthrus lurked in the same room as before. He hovered over a book, an imp turning a page every minute or so.

  “It is rare for you to seek me out,” Orthrus said, not looking up. “Even rarer for you to do so twice.”

  The imp ducked out of the room through a false wall, leaving the two of them alone. Rys sat on a stool. That left a table between himself and Orthrus.

  “There’s nobody else I can think to ask about this,” Rys said. “I’m not even sure if you’ll have an answer, but you know a lot of strange things.”

  Orthrus chuckled. “I am not sure if I should be pleased that is how you view me, but you leave me curious. What is this topic you wish to speak of?”

  “When I broke the power conduit, I saw something from my past. An event involving an angel,” Rys explained, searching for the right words. “How much do you know about souls?”

  “Given I freed you, you may assume that I know enough,” Orthrus said.

  Not much of an answer, but Rys had expected that.

  “If an angel altered someone’s soul, what do you think the result would be? Because I didn’t think that was possible,” Rys asked. “Everything I know about souls suggests that meddling with them ends poorly.”

  “Poorly is a gentle way to put it,” Orthrus said with a laugh. “You are referring to your own predicament, are you not? I was unaware that an angel was responsible.”

  Rys felt a chill run down his spine. “You knew?”

  “That your soul is out of alignment? It is a difficult thing to miss. At least, for someone who feels the astral plane as deeply as I do,” Orthrus explained. “But I had no way to know how it happened, or what effects it had on you. In truth, you are far more stable than I ever expected.”

  “I take it an unstable personality is the normal result if someone’s soul has been modified?” Rys scowled.

  Damn Azrael.

  “No. Death is,” Orthrus said flatly.

  Rys blinked.

  “Almost every instance of soul alteration I am aware of ends in death,” Orthrus continued. “In descending order of likelihood, the following results also occurred: brain death; complete loss of magical ability; physical disablement such as blindness or deafness; visual and auditory hallucinations; loss of emotions; rapid physical degradation of—”

  “Loss of emotions?” Rys asked, automatically latching onto the symptom he suspected matched his own.

  Tyrisa had observed something was off with his soul, given devils could see emotions with their soulsight. Azrael had intentionally altered his soul in order to mitigate Lacrissa’s emotional manipulation.

  In a vague effort to cover up his response, Rys added, “That doesn’t really match everything else you’re saying. Death, complete disablement, going insane, or becoming boring. I think I know which I’d pick.”

  Orthrus’s stare made it clear that the attempt hadn’t worked. “If only it was so easy to choose. Then again, the angels are different to others. Like the infernals, they are a special race. They lack a key component of life, that every other known race has.”

  “A magical essence. It makes them automatons. They’re huge balls of soul, yes,” Rys said.

  “Indeed. That makes them experts on the matter, even if they refuse to share any of their many secrets,” Orthrus said. “And the loss of emotions is a typical ailment from soul alteration. The cause is simple enough. By altering the soul,
the astral energy fed to the subject is changed. Your existence was constructed to accept a very specific amount and type of astral energy. Awful things happen when that changes.”

  “Like becoming boring?”

  “Is that how you think of yourself?” Orthrus laughed. “Although I doubt you are suffering from an ailment. Your soul is undamaged. But it is still odd. Even minor changes to a soul are problematic. Too much energy overwhelms the body, resulting in physical damage or death. The wrong type of energy overwhelms the mind, resulting in mental problems. Altering a soul is a truly dangerous action.”

  Orthrus’s eyes bore into Rys. “I truly wonder how it is that your soul can be out of alignment, but you suffer no apparent ill effects. Vengeance is a terrifying, furious element. Your soul dwells deep within it. You should be an avatar of destruction. Someone who obliterates anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way.”

  “If Azrael was like that, he would have wiped out the Infernal Empire a long time ago,” Rys said drily. “I doubt he had that in mind when he messed with me.”

  “Ah, so it was an archangel.” Orthrus fell silent for several long moments. “Your story grows so very complex. A general for the Infernal Empire, but one who is a potential puppet of Heaven?”

  “I am no puppet,” Rys growled.

  “And you are clearly still capable of feeling emotion.” Orthrus appeared to shake his head, but it was hard to make out given his appearance.

  Feeling that this was getting nowhere, Rys decided to explain the story in full to Orthrus. It took only a few minutes. The wisp listened intently without interruption.

  “That is troubling,” Orthrus said afterward. “Very troubling.”

  “Which part? His apparent invulnerability, his casual destruction of an entire fortress, or when he played with my soul?” Rys asked.

  “None of them. He knew he was going to die.”

  Rys opened his mouth to deny that, then stopped.

  Fuck. Orthrus was right.

  “I was pretty sure angels aren’t supposed to mess with time,” Rys said.

  “They aren’t,” Orthrus said. “While astral power allows for many things, actual alteration of time is not one of them.” The wisp sighed. “This topic needs considerable thought. More important is that, yes, he intentionally altered your soul. Although I am curious that you were as weak as you appeared.”

  “I was pretty young.” Rys leaned backward, careful not to tip over in his chair. “Not even a century old. You seem surprised.”

  “I suppose I am.” Orthrus hovered. “You’ve spoken little of your past.”

  “That goes for both of us,” Rys said. He drummed his fingers on the desk. “My life’s pretty simple, to be honest. I was born in Ruathym, then started my own forge. Lacrissa became interested in me because of my rune-crafting abilities. When I started getting old, she turned me into this.”

  Rys gestured to his artificially crafted body, which Lacrissa had created for him.

  “Eventually, she started sending me out to deal with threats. I think my growing strength amused her,” Rys said.

  “Then the Cataclysm happened, and she sent you to defend the Empire.” Orthrus nodded, feeling that he understood.

  “No, Duar did.”

  “Duar… Malusian’s body man and right hand,” Orthrus uttered.

  “You seem to know him personally.”

  “Duar and Malusian fought in the Emergence. Unlike the younger infernals, I don’t need to learn about them from others.” Orthrus paused. “So, you became a general through external intervention.”

  “Pretty much. I rose to power after that, but Duar gave me my first real opportunity at command.”

  “Yes, I see what you mean by a simple life,” Orthrus said.

  “And you?” Rys asked.

  Orthrus remained silent. The torches on the walls flickered.

  Rys wasn’t leaving things like this.

  “You were a researcher, weren’t you? Or close enough,” Rys asked, taking a calculated stab in the dark.

  The way Orthrus had spoken of soul alteration and its side-effects was telling. Like a scientist recalling experimental results.

  “I was,” Orthrus answered. “Once.”

  His eyes turned downward and stared at the book.

  Rys felt Orthrus’s desire for that knowledge. The pain of not being able to turn the pages himself and understand what has happened while he was sealed away. How many libraries of knowledge did Orthrus need to devour to catch up on what he had missed?

  Although Rys prevented himself from feeling too sympathetic. Orthrus could fill just as many libraries with his secrets and somehow knew about events that had transpired while he had been sealed away.

  But he had been more open with Rys since the first power conduit had been broken. That was a positive change. For what it was worth, Rys would try to work with Orthrus, so long as he received something in return.

  “As you may have guessed, I know much of this archipelago,” Orthrus said, surprising Rys.

  “You seem to know a lot about the seals. Did you research them?” Rys asked.

  “Hmm, the seals. Indeed, we did. There was an amusing pair that used to come ashore near the castle each year when it was located in Kinaria. We decided to see what the results would be if we ripped the soul from one, for science, of course—” Orthrus began to say.

  “Wrong seals, Orthrus,” Rys said flatly. “Although the story is macabre enough that I almost want to hear the end.”

  “Ah, then allow me to finish the joke.” Orthrus chuckled, but Rys wasn’t certain it was a joke. “The soulless seal eventually had a child, but said child only had an incomplete soul. It was a wraith of a seal, so to speak. Kin, really. Sadly, it lacked the ability to consume the souls of other beings in order to sustain itself and eventually perished. Such is life—or unlife, in this case.”

  “You sound far too attached to a soulless seal, Orthrus,” Rys said.

  “It was a valuable test subject. Much was learned.”

  Perhaps Orthrus wasn’t that attached, if the seal remained an “it.”

  “As for the seals we care about, they are vastly more complex and ancient. I have recalled more about them since the conduit was destroyed,” Orthrus said. “Your seal was created first. It originally contained the Creator himself. A godlike being that could only be contained by his own power. Ironic, no?”

  “Godlike? I didn’t expect to hear you use that word.” Rys frowned. He was always wary of that sort of description.

  Many beings thought of themselves as gods, but none deserved it. Even the archangels died, although they came back to life.

  “The more you explore the Labyrinth, the better you will understand the Creator’s power,” Orthrus said. “He may not be a god, but he manifested the closest thing to one that might ever exist. He and his two brothers used astral power in a way even the angels cannot.”

  “What about your seal?” Rys asked, preferring to talk about something other than supposed gods.

  “I do not fully understand it,” Orthrus admitted. “My knowledge tells me that it was supposed to break, but instead it has survived for thousands of years. Yours suppresses power. Mine removes it. Both interact with the power behind the Labyrinth itself, but in different ways.”

  “You’re talking about the thing lurking beyond the Labyrinth. Whatever it is that the power conduits draw from,” Rys said.

  Orthrus appeared to freeze. His eyes snapped toward Rys, and every motion of the wisp stopped.

  “You feel it,” Orthrus said.

  “It’s a little hard not to. The castle is connected to it,” Rys said. “I’ve been ignoring it, because what kind of idiot messes with something that obscenely massive? The power I’m sensing is as great as an archangel. Maybe greater.”

  Orthrus looked away.

  Rys wondered if he’d just called someone out.

  “The Labyrinth’s power source is immense,” Orthrus admitted, proving
Rys’s suspicion correct. “But it is constrained.”

  By what, Rys wondered? With that much magical power, Rys could build his own magical wonderland.

  He supposed that’s what the Labyrinth was. The Creator’s magical wonderland.

  Orthrus clammed up, and Rys left.

  But questions remained.

  If one of the seals removed things, then those things had to go somewhere. Nothing could be created from nothing. Rys regained his memories. They had been kept somewhere.

  Was there a place within the Labyrinth that kept them?

  Was there a thing inside that Labyrinth that held Rys’s memories? That might be learning from them, using them to make the place more dangerous?

  While it sounded absurd, the Labyrinth learned from its invaders. Something or someone controlled the place.

  Power came with a cost, Rys realized. The castle and Labyrinth might be able to help him, even after he broke his seals, but what price might he pay?

  Chapter 32

  Not long afterward, Grigor and Fara returned. Rys drank with them late into the night.

  Probably not the greatest idea, in retrospect. The Kinadain had gifted them bottles of whiskey. Local stuff. Strong, unfiltered, sometimes with added herbs or honey, and with vastly varying flavors and quality.

  Rys knew this, because the three of them had plowed through far too many of the bottles. Fara had watched with a mixture of terror and fascination as Rys and Grigor drowned themselves in strong spirits.

  The resulting hangover was intense. Rys groaned while he lay on the sofa in his office.

  A knock sounded at the door. Rys felt that the room exploded, taking his head with it. He refused to respond to somebody who ignored the sign ordering them to leave him alone.

  The door opened with a soft click.

  “I suppose this answers the question of whether you and Grigor get hangovers,” Fara said.