Throne of Demons (Songs of Death and Life Book 1)

by Edison G. S.

  His guilt changed to pride when he reflected upon his soon to be son, another Akio. Andreas, his father, and his grandfather were very proud of the family name and Andreas felt privileged to add another son to that heritage.

  He finally heard a baby crying and announced to all, “It is my son, the next Akio.” Tears streamed down his cheeks and a wide smile spread across his face. For so long, his soul was shrouded in sadness and despair; the happiness of a new child consumed him.

  “I need to see my son already,” he exclaimed, rushing through the door. Jeremiah smiled at him, but was still silent.

  Andreas entered the room, but his smile faded when the midwives scurried out of the room and he saw Marie with a melancholic look upon her face.

  “What…what is…” he was stuttering for fear the baby had passed.

  “Andreas,” Marie exclaimed with sorrow.

  “I have a name for him. Bramson,” he said, “Bramson Akio.” He said joyfully and then he turned his face to the child in Marie’s arms and understood her grief—she produced a daughter.

  “Forgive me,” Marie cried deeply. She knew the wife of the Sub-Commander of the Frozen Land had to produce sons, as Darcellene had before her.

  “There is nothing to forgive my love,” he said with genuine sincerity in his voice, “She will be a beautiful lady and marry a powerful highborn suitor, maybe a merchant.”

  “And we can have more babies,” she remarked, trying to reassure her position as his wife would not be rescinded.

  “Yes, we can. Soon the demons will be stopped and we will safely have many more children.” With his words, he also meant to bring back his two boys.

  Marie gave a hopeful smile and wiped her tears away. He took the fragile, small baby into his arms. She had inherited her mother’s deep dark eyes and chestnut-colored hair. She smiled and Andreas saw the dimples he had seen many times on Marie’s face.

  Though the child brought him much happiness, he feared for her life; if he died on the field, she would not be strong enough to survive the demons as he had since a child.

  “I want to name her Brianne,” Marie stated, faking enthusiasm. “It sounds like Branson,” she said vying for his approval, not for the name but for herself.

  He nodded and tried to show the same enthusiasm, but his fear was greater. He had been scared when the boys were born, but that was years ago and now the situation had worsened.

  For a moment, he found himself thinking about Melantha. It was not a coincidence the witch joined his side just before Yvette came. He knew something eminent was about to happen quite soon.

  Yvette

  She massaged her empty womb, remembering when her own son was born, the king’s bastard.

  “Would you like tea or coffee?” a maid asked.

  “Nothing,” Yvette replied coldly. “Will the Sub-Commander be ready soon?” she questioned.

  “His wife just gave birth and he needs to be with her,” the woman replied and gave Yvette a vexing glare.

  Yvette grew incensed at the woman’s façade. “Do you dare to glare at me, a Sub-Commander, in such a way? Do you know I carry the king’s word?” she berated the old woman.

  Andreas overheard the two women as he entered the room; when the woman saw him walk in, she took it upon herself to scamper away.

  “Is there a problem in here?” he inquired.

  “I need to talk to you,” Yvette demanded without showing any care for his newborn.

  “Concerning?”

  “The troops need to be ready soon; some informants have spotted Kazar near a mountain. I surmise we surround the mountain and extract him from it.”

  “Have you personally laid eyes on Kazar? How do you know another demon is not occupying the mountain?”

  “He is taller, stronger, and much paler. There is no doubt it is he in the mountain.”

  “Well, then we shall begin organizing,” he agreed, his words full of dread.

  Her voice became matter-of-factly and she stated, “There is something else you must know.”

  Concerned, Andreas looked at her inquisitively. What does she want now?

  “I do not work with witches.”

  Andreas’ expression furrowed, “You do not have to.”

  “I know you are working with a witch. The letter we received stated so, but I did not think witches still existed; however, the rumors confirm what the letter said.” Her eyes scolded him. “The night your men died you should have told me why they left. One of my soldiers recently informed me of the truth.” She remained silent several seconds. “I will not tolerate a lack of tactical communication between us.”

  For the first time, Andreas could not contain his temper with her anymore,. “If you don’t want to work with witches, you don’t have to. You can come here and take control of the troops, but you cannot take control of whom I trust!”

  Yvette stared at him for a few seconds stunned, immobile in her chair, before she regained her senses and said, “Let me clarify the situation for you. Get rid of the witches or I will get rid of them and you as well!” Then Yvette stood up and left Andreas’ home.

  She stood a few seconds outside his home, while Andreas watched her through the window, cursing her over and over again.

  As she stood there, she felt a strange sensation, as if someone was watching her. She turned her head to the left and caught Melantha’s gaze from a distance. Her defiant eyes seemed to burn through Yvette’s thoughts and challenge her causing a chill up Yvette’s spine. “Witch,” she murmured and kept a strong gaze back at Melantha. Yvette blinked and in that second Melantha vanished.

  Yvette was unsure how much the woman knew, but it was obvious she was a strong adversary on Andreas’ side. It was time to get rid of the witch before she used her tricks to stop Yvette’s mission. If the old witch found out about the mission too early, Yvette might die miles from her son.

  Tara

  Her entire life, she remained strong regardless of what she had to endure and witness. Flashbacks of years of abuse began crowding her head, her dreams, and her time. Now that everything was coming back to her, she struggled not to go mad; only her desire for revenge gave her strength. Whenever she felt strong enough, she would start chasing the demons until they accepted her. It would be easy for her to escape since Samuel released her hands, but she needed time to recover from her sudden crisis.

  After her confession to Samuel, he ceased speaking to her. She understood he needed time to comprehend the notion of following a disgusting tyrant. They only knew one another for a short time, but it was obvious his pride would get in the way of reality; he had been on the wrong side for so long.

  He wanted to avenge his father with her death, but now it seemed unlikely his father would want such a thing. She was innocent; actually, she was one more victim. He was polite enough to release her, but his silence contributed to her feelings of low self-esteem.

  “Here, I brought you some warm soup this time,” he finally said to her when he returned. His high chin and his burst chest created an invisible wall that warned Tara to accept the soup and stay away.

  She ate it with anxious swallows; warm soup was a privilege in the Frozen Land. Soup chilled in no time at all there, thus being able to eat something warm was more satisfying than anything she had in a long time.

  She slurped the soup so quickly she almost chocked on a chunk of potato. She slumped over on the floor coughing and turning red. Samuel ran over to her and pressed on her stomach with his hands until the potato came out. He pulled her up and stared at her asking, “Are you okay?” Letting her live was one step in their “relationship,” but saving her life was a different circumstance. Without realizing it, Samuel was beginning to care about her.

  Tara regained her composure and pushed him away. She was not fond of proximity—emotional or physical.

  When she picked up her head, he was looking at her and their eyes interlocked. He helped her stand again, but she slipped on the potato and fell back on th
e floor, hitting her right arm and elbow.

  Samuel wanted to help her, but all he could do was laugh vigorously, “It seems that potato is trying to kill you,” he said looking directly in her eyes. All she could do was laugh with him.

  Over the next few days, her relationship with Samuel evolved into a friendship. Every time she saw the bruise on her elbow, she laughed. The unexpected had occurred and she found a friend in her captor.

  In the past, he would never talk after the demon daily chase, but now he was eager to be back at the small house and talk with Tara about his day and about everything that crossed his mind.

  At times, he courageously asked her how she felt; though she appreciated his interest, she would not talk much about her feelings.

  As the days passed, their interaction increased and a relationship developed. He had finally let her out and even brought her coffee beans to help her stain her hair. The golden color was gone and replaced by a common brown, a gratifying and independent feeling. She could finally feel the snowflakes on her head and the fresh cold wind.

  One evening, Tara felt enough trust to tell Samuel about her deepest wounds. “Growing up, I only had one friend and I loved him dearly.” Her head was down, “I still do. He is not guilty of being his father’s son.”

  Samuel listened attentively. “Tell me what people say about Prince Thomas,” she inquired.

  Samuel smiled, “Everybody knows about his preferences. Nonetheless, he is much appreciated and is known as generous. But why do you ask?”

  “His preferences…when the king discovered it,” she swallowed hard, “he came one night into my room, pulling Thomas behind by his ear. We were about fourteen. The prince was naked and bleeding. His father had been beating him with a whip.” She struggled to talk. “The king told him, no, he commanded, him to take me right there. His words were ‘you will turn into a man today.’”

  Samuel kept listening with attention. “Thomas ran away, but that was the most humiliating moment for him. After that, he barely spoke to me again.” Her eyes were moist with tears and distant.

  After their conversation, Tara and Samuel had a better understanding of one another. The situation between the two of them would change their lives from then on.

  Omar

  Omar had been exploring the old house in which his aunt lived alone. It was rich in décor and boasted more rooms than she appeared to need. He wondered how many times others had resided there and who they might have been. His assumption was most of the guests were not the type welcomed by many others; people on the streets frowned whenever they walked nearby the house. For some reason, their aunt and her house were not appreciated in the city.

  “I apologize,” he said to his aunt when he accidentally entered her room trying to find his own.

  “Oh, hello there,” she said, awakening from her nap.

  He tried to walk away, but she stopped him, “Wait, come here.”

  He approached the woman who was sitting on her bed. “Look at you; you are a survivor,” she smiled with proud eyes. “Remember, you are strong and always be proud of who you are, of the legacy you carry.”

  Omar pressed his lips together and tried to stop himself from tapping his foot on the wooden floor. She would notice how tired of her riddles he was. What is she trying to say?

  “There is so much I need to teach you and so little time left,” she whispered as if her words were stolen by the soft breeze entering through her window, carrying the floral scent of her garden.

  “Aunt Ester,” he finally dared to say, “There is so much I don’t understand. Most of the things you say confuse me,” he admitted.

  “And you should be scared. Things are only going to be more difficult and fear will help you avoid unnecessary risks.”

  “The prayers, what are those for? You make us pray, but I do not understand the words you tell me to repeat.”

  Since the day they met their aunt, she had been teaching the boys to pray in a foreign language, the old tongue. He had repeated the words, at first thinking it was a joke, then he had thought their aunt was crazy, but now he was certain there was something evil in the prayers, something dark and unknown.

  Over time, Neil did not join them anymore. His brother was becoming increasingly ill. The Forest was much more humid than the Desert and it was affecting his breathing. Most of the day he spent in bed.

  Aunt Ester did not explain his misunderstandings to him; instead she slowly lay back down in her bed, leaving him to go.

  * * *

  Since their last conversation, Omar avoided his aunt. Neil did not even need to avoid her for he was too weak to walk and Omar was concerned Aunt Ester did not care to take him to the doctor. He would scratch the back of his neck and observe her movements every time she walked nearby the room, giving away a free smile. He wanted to scream at her, to demand help for his brother since she did not seem interested in providing it.

  The table was a difficult place to be at; Neil only had fruit juice, which he drank in his room, since he could not stomach anything solid . The table was the one place which Omar could not escape. At every meal, he would rush to finish his food and escape the awkwardness between he and his aunt. The food was delicious, which made it easy for him to finish quickly. However, this time, escaping was not on his agenda; he needed to discuss things with her. He needed to make the woman understand he needed her help for his brother’s well-being.

  “Aunt Ester…Neil needs your help.”

  “No, you are the one who needs my help. You just don’t realize it yet,” she answered.

  “Please get him a doctor. Please aunt, he is my brother,” the maturity he had developed too early suddenly dissipated and the tears of a young, worried boy streamed down his cheeks.

  The aunt did not show compassion; her face was so hard it accentuated the wrinkles of her age. “You cannot see why I am unable to help your brother. It is best you leave it alone.”

  He grimaced at her words for she left him completely puzzled. “But if you do not help him, he will die,” he whimpered, wiping his useless tears. “I will pay for a doctor by working,” he declared with gusto.

  She smiled as if the entire situation was something funny. “It is not about money, my dear. It is about something you are too young to understand—, balance.”

  “I will find money somewhere else,” he raised his chin and stood to leave the table.

  “Do not waste your energy on that. Rather, focus on your prayers to our god. I am sorry to sound cruel, but your brother’s destiny had been sealed. And your efforts will not bear a fruit other than giving you fake hope.”

  Omar felt cold and his pride was destroyed.

  “Your brother will die because it is meant to happen,” she said softly as if meant nothing.

  Along with his pride and hopes, he fell on his knees in front of her, begging, “Please, I need my brother.” He looked at the woman with warm tears pouring down his cheeks.

  Ester slapped him across the face with enough strength to throw him on his belly. “Stand up,” she demanded.

  He crawled away and turned on his back to see her from the floor. His eyes were round and a shaky voice tried to articulate words that did not make any sense. The old woman suddenly seemed taller, stronger, and much more powerful.

  “Wizards do not bend their knee,” she finally said before walking away.

  Andreas

  The constant search through the mountains was harrowing for the men. The amount of work they had to do during the day—climbing, walking, running—was too demanding. It had been several days since Andreas talked to Yvette and they chose to avoid the conflict for the time being. The search was more important than their disagreement in opinion.

  The search turned into an interminable routine that kept the troops and their Sub-Commander trapped in the same day for what seemed like an eternity. The pain on Andreas’ body was insufferable, but the sting to his pride was greater. An Akio following orders when his role is to lead
is unacceptable.

  When Andreas was home, all he wanted to do was sleep; however his wife had other plans. Andreas felt guilty for rejecting her and when Marie looked at the sleeping baby in her bassinet next to their bed, her eyes were cold. It troubled Andreas to think she might blame the baby for being a girl. If she were worried he would leave her for not producing a son, he would have to deal with it at another time.

  With the baby home, he finally could bring his boys back. However, Marie would feel more threatened by the boys and the argumentative level would increase as well. Andreas wished to see his children, but knew it was not the right time. Yvette proved to be deceptive and he would not want to risk the boys on her hands. I will wait until she leaves, he thought.

  * * *

  The men learned the arrangement of the mountains and eventually which paths to follow, since they often found their own footprints in the snow from walking in circles. Few caves contained demons that had somehow escaped the dungeons, but they were weak enough to be exterminated by a single soldier. They were just spawns that had not been compelled to follow Kazar’s order. The demons begged for their lives, but it was too dangerous to be merciful to them and so they were destroyed, even though some had been soldiers and friends in the past.

  One morning, Yvette stopped by looking energetic and radiant; after all, she did little work in the search. Her troops carried everything for her including resources, weapons, and food. She seemed as if she was becoming used to the cold winds of the land as she did not wear many layers of clothes as she often had.

  “I think the witches are working to hide the demons,” Yvette came to prattle.

  Andreas discussed the matter with Marie previously and she agreed with Yvette. She was concerned about Andreas losing his status in the Frozen Land. “You should listen to her and unburden yourself with that witch. Do you wish to risk everything for some…some…old hag?”