by E B Rose
“Lygor!” Beast gasped. Water trickled down his face. He stood up in the flooded cave.
How he got here, whether or not if he was really here wasn’t important. His body was still out there. The fight was continuing.
He staggered towards the cage. “Please. They’ll kill him!”
The fog swirled behind the silver bars, lazily. “Please?” he mocked. “Do you have a request, slave?”
Beast fell on his knees. “Do something! Please!”
The Demon Lord tortured him with silence. Finally, he let out a long, lazy sigh.
“Drink.”
Beast complied without hesitation. The water was cold and tasteless as before. He looked up at the demon with expectation.
“More.”
Beast drank another handful, glanced at the cage, then drank more. He doubled over, determined to drink until the demon deemed enough. A sudden cramp stabbed him in the stomach. He gasped, hugged his abdomen. “What...”
The water was turning red; a bright, violent red. The muddy soil at the bottom softened. It sucked Beast in. His vision was invaded by the colour of red. Nothing like the familiar red mist of his Kill Word though; it was a bright red light that blinded him.
*
When he opened his eyes, the ground under him was hardened again. He was on his knees, slumped on himself. He jerked his head up. He was trying to stand and fend off imaginary attacks at the same time. He fell twice, and gave up, slowly realizing there wasn’t need for it anymore.
The fight was over. He didn’t know how, but it was over. Bodies of Vogros soldiers scattered around him. Dead. The blonde man stared at the sky, his eyes flat, his mouth twisted in pain or horror. Several of the soldiers died by their own weapons. Most had their skulls crushed, or necks twisted. Beast’s knuckles hurt.
He felt dizzy. He steadied himself with his hands on the ground. Then, he vomited. He heard the sound of approaching hooves as he wiped his mouth.
“Lygor,” he croaked, looking around, but he didn’t have the strength to get up yet.
Valnar galloped around the hill, followed by Ink on Lygor’s horse. The knight nearly threw himself off his horse before the animal made a full stop. His face was ash grey when he dropped on his knees next to his prince.
“Is he...?” Ink said. He couldn’t finish his question.
Valnar cradled Lygor’s head on his lap. He pressed his ear on his chest. He sat up, tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and sighed. “Praise be to Kiejain, the most merciful,” he said with relief.
He’s alive.
Valnar’s head turned in Beast’s direction. Their eyes met. Beast’s rolled back in his skull. The hard, cold earth rose to embrace him. He collapsed into unconsciousness.
*
“What... What have you done?”
The water was black again. It was up to his thighs now. He watched it cautiously.
“I helped you,” Keder bragged in his cage.
“Did you... Was that...”
“Dracistuecto. Prihjtivaviula. Padlociatius.” Every word made Beast flinch. His movements disturbed the water; sent soft, black ripples away. None of the words had any effect on him. “No,” Keder explained. “It wasn’t your Kill Word. Your Words don’t work here.”
“What was in the water?”
“Power. Strength. Freedom.”
Beast shook his head. “I don’t want any more of this.”
Demon Lord laughed. “Want? What you want doesn’t matter, remember? Isn’t that what you said to that slave before? Hypocrite.”
Beast didn’t know that word, but he understood it was an insult. He raised his chin, like Lygor did when he was preparing to give an order. “Leave me alone.”
Keder laughed. Beast didn’t. The demon’s laughter died slowly. “You need me,” he said matter-of-factly.
“No, I don’t.”
“You think you can trust them?” The black fog swirled quicker. “Do you really believe your Owner will give you your freedom?”
“Lygor will.” Beast said with confidence. He didn’t bother correcting the demon that Valnar was his Owner, not Lygor. It didn’t matter. “He needs me free.”
“Does he? Really?” The black fog stopped swirling and it approached the bars. “Does he really need you free? Or, is he just making sure you’ll play along? Showing you sympathy, giving you cuddles, buying you drinks... Treating you like a human being, so you dedicate yourself to him, by choice.” He paused, letting his words sink. “There are ways to manipulate a free mind to submit.”
Beast gritted his teeth. “We made a deal,” he said, not liking the uncertainty in his voice. “He’ll keep his promise.”
“Sounds familiar.”
Keder’s words struck him harder than his Pain Word ever did. His heart skipped a beat. “He’s different!” he raised his voice. “He’s not like any Owner I’ve ever seen.”
“That sounds familiar too.”
“Screw you!”
If the demon had a body, Beast would punch him. He could hardly contain himself from kicking the cage as hard as he could. The demon laughed; the thick fog forming a tiny whirlwind inside the cage. Beast’s face flushed with rage.
“I want you to remember, next time when you come here, begging for my help, I won’t.”
Beast was too furious to think of a snappy response, and he didn’t get much time either. The sandy mud under his feet softened, swallowing him in. Beast closed his eyes, held his breath, and wished he could sink out of here faster.
*
When he woke up, he felt refreshed. His knuckles ached, and his stomach growled with hunger, but otherwise, he felt strong as ever.
He hadn’t been unconscious for long. Valnar and Ink had carried him and Lygor twenty minutes off the road, behind a large boulder that caved slightly inside, providing shelter. Lygor had woken up just before him. The prince had a bump on his head, and complained about how much talking hurt, but he was otherwise unharmed.
“Praise be to Kiejain,” Valnar said maybe fiftieth time. “Kiejain always hears the prayers of those who welcome the Twelve inside their hearts.”
More like praise be to Keder, the Demon Lord of Darkhome, Beast thought. He hadn’t quite welcomed the D Lord inside his head, but he was there and he helped when help was needed. Unlike Valnar’s phony gods...
Ink had found the cart abandoned, ten minutes down the road. The mule was gone, so was Jessur. Most of their items were there, but half their supplies, Valnar’s short sword, and their money were gone, except for the small pouch Lygor carried on himself.
The Kaldorian went quiet after he’d apologized for Jessur a dozen times.
“Wasn’t your fault,” Valnar said, though his face was sour.
“Why would he do that? I was kind to him.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll report him to the Hunters when we get to Calae. Hunters...”
“Always find you,” Beast completed the sentence. He shivered, feeling bad for the freeborn. What had possessed him to escape? Did he believe he wouldn’t survive as a beast with a broken arm? Would Beast attempt the same if he had a permanent injury? He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to find out.
“They do,” Valnar agreed, regarding the slave thoughtfully. “We should leave.”
Valnar set to recovering whatever Jessur had left behind. Ink found his horse grazing close to where he fell off before. He also captured one of the Vogros horses for Beast to ride. They loaded everything they had on their saddles and were ready to leave, when Valnar approached Beast.
Beast stood with his eyes on the ground. Dread filled his stomach as he wondered how the knight was going to make his life difficult this time. Valnar didn’t speak. He’d recovered a sword and a belt from one of the Vogros soldiers. Without breaking his silence, he handed it to Beast.
The sword was average quality. Its balance was slightly off, and the leather on the hilt was worn out. It wouldn’t qualify for the weaponry King Leonis reserved for his beast
s. But it was steel, it was sharp, and it fastened Beast’s heartbeat when he picked it up.
He looked up at Valnar, unsure of the knight’s intention, but Valnar had already walked off to his horse. Beast tied the belt around his waist and sheathed the sword. The weight of the steel on his hips filled his heart with joy.
The other three watched his as he climbed up on his horse. Lygor was pressing a wet cloth on his forehead, to ease the aching bump. He grinned. A wry smile played across Ink’s lips, though his eyes still carried embarrassment for Jessur’s betrayal. Even Valnar’s permanent scowl seemed to soften.
All four sat on their saddles. All four carrying weapons. Despite Keder’s dreadful warnings, Beast couldn’t resist feeling like their equal.
“Alright, then,” Lygor grunted, rubbing his head gingerly. “Let’s go.”
He turned his horse and his companions followed.
32
OLIRA
Olira spotted a severed arm, ripped out of its socket by force. She covered her mouth and looked up, trying not to vomit.
The battlefield was full of dead bodies, battered and missing limbs. It was hard to believe they were not mauled by a pack of wild animals. If Olira hadn’t seen the slave’s work before, she would have had a hard time believing a man was responsible for all this.
“Are you okay, ma’am,” Norrol asked. Olira was riding double with the young squire. The boy thought Olira couldn’t see how pale his face was, but she could clearly hear the fear in his voice.
She muttered a quiet yes and rubbed her throat distractedly. It was still red and sore from Prince Dienus’s attempt to strangle her. Talking hurt.
Her eyes found the prince, who was stepping over the dead bodies of his soldiers. She shuddered at the memory of his thirsty eyes; how his face was twisted, and his lips were curled in satisfaction as he squeezed the life out of Olira. She thought she didn’t care about what would happen to her, but the prince made her realize how much she still wanted to live.
Dienus stopped near one of the bodies. He grabbed its arm and turned it on its back. It belonged to Lieutenant Quinner.
Olira stifled a gasp. Lieutenant didn’t exactly treat her like a princess, but he was the reason the soldiers were gentle when handling her. He kept Prince Dienus in check. And now, he lay dead; his skull crushed in, parts of his flesh missing.
Dienus couldn’t contain his smirk.
One of the soldiers bent over and vomited his breakfast loudly. Dienus glared at the man with contempt. “Hey!” he yelled. “Keep it together, princess. We’ll get him and we’ll make him pay.”
“This was half our force,” one of the other soldiers said in a queasy voice. “If he could do this singlehandedly...”
“He didn’t do this all by himself,” Dienus dismissed. He pointed back the way they came. “You’ve seen it yourselves, those men over the hill were killed by arrows, and the others down the road were butchered with a sword.”
Vogros soldiers gathered around Dienus, listening but not convinced. As the men looked up to him for guidance, Dienus puffed his chest out and stood taller. He started pacing as he gave his speech.
“Lieutenant Quinner underestimated our enemies. Now we know, Lion of Zarall’s companions can fight as well. We will learn from Lieutenant Quinner’s mistakes.”
“How?” someone asked.
“For starters, we will not rush, like the Lieutenant did, leaving half our force behind. We will catch them off guard, separate them, and get Lion of Zarall when he’s most vulnerable.”
“Your Highness,” one of the older soldiers spoke with uncertainty. “We’ve seen the signs that our targets were already separated. Lion of Zarall killed most of these men with his bare hands. How much more vulnerable can he be caught?”
Dienus’s cheek twitched as if he just held back a growl. He restored his confident smile, walked up to the man, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I understand you’re grieving for your comrades, and that you’re intimidated by this slave, but remember: Lion of Zarall is still a purebred, and I know his words.”
“So did the Lieutenant!” someone yelled from the back.
Dienus’s head snapped in the direction of the comment. He balled his hands into fists. “Who said that?” he demanded.
Silence filled the battlefield. Dienus scanned the faces of the soldiers. Anger flashed in his green eyes. Nobody made eye contact with him.
“I asked, who said that?” Dienus yelled.
Clip clops of a galloping horse broke the silence. One of the soldiers they’d sent to scout ahead returned and jumped down from his horse. His face was sweaty and flushed with excitement.
“Your Highness!” the scout called, not noticing the tension in the air. He went down to one knee in front of Dienus. “Your Highness, we’ve got him! We’ve captured the beast!”
Dienus’s eyes grew large. His jaw dropped open. “You what?”
“We’ve found Lion of Zarall wandering nearby and we apprehended him. Yense and Vyran are bringing him now.”
Dienus was having a difficult time believing him. He searched his soldiers’ faces, glanced at Sir Gennald, then he dared to smile. “We’ve got him!”
A pair of soldiers approached on their horses from the direction the scout came. They must have been Yense and Vyran, bringing Lion of Zarall. The slave’s arms and legs were tied behind him, and he was lying on his stomach across one of the horses’ saddles.
Lion of Zarall, captured and defeated. Olira’s heart skipped. How was the slave going to respond when he saw Olira again? She had no idea. She dreaded the confrontation.
“Ready your arms!” Dienus commanded. His face paled as soon as he saw the slave. He held a hand out to Yense and Vyran. “That’s close enough. Get him off the horse. I said ready your arms!”
The men drew their swords out as they circled around the two horses. Dienus gestured Sir Gennald to stay near him. Two bravest soldiers approached the slave cautiously and pulled him down the saddle.
“Padlociatius!” Dienus yelped as soon as the slave moved.
“Sir... Master... Please, I... I wasn’t doing anything wrong... My arm hurts, please...”
Confusion bloomed in the air. The slave continued talking and struggling while Vogros soldiers waited with their weapons drawn. Dienus watched the man; his expression changing from nervous to dumbfounded.
“You’re not Lion of Zarall!” Dienus accused the man.
“What? No, Master... What?”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“My name is Jessur, Master. I was... I was separated from my Owner... I didn’t mean to run…”
“How did you get here?”
The slave named Jessur licked his lips. “My Owner and... and his companions were attacked and we got separated... Master, please, my arm is broken. It hurts so much tied like this...”
Dienus breathed impatiently. The soldiers relaxed; some of them sheathed their swords back. Dienus ground his jaw. “Who is your Owner?”
“Ink... His name was Ink.”
“That’s a weird name.”
“It... it must be Kaldorian. He was Kaldorian.”
“Tell me about his companions?”
“Their leader was called Lodi and... and the other one’s name was Valnar. They also had a... a purebred beast with them.”
Dienus’s face brightened. He smirked at his men victoriously. Olira struggled to hide her disappointment. She had kept those three men’s names hidden from them, just to make their search harder. Now they knew their names too.
“Did you say Valnar?” Sir Gennald stepped forward. “Sir Valnar Gaege?”
Jessur grimaced and fidgeted to adjust his right arm into a less painful position. “I... I didn’t catch his last name, Master, please... My arm...”
“Did he carry Kiejain on him?”
“Ah... Yes, yes he wore a breastplate with Kiejain on it.”
Dienus raised an eyebrow at Sir Gennald. “You know him?”
/> Sir Gennald nodded subtly, but didn’t elaborate. They shared a look and agreed to discuss it later privately. Dienus returned to the slave, blew one of his cheeks as he thought what to do about him. He smiled.
Dienus started barking orders, using a tone he clearly thought was authoritative. “Half of you, find a place and set up camp. The other half, start digging. We can’t continue our mission before giving these good men a proper burial. We will pursue the Lion of Zarall first thing in the morning.” He clapped his hands. “Chop chop!”
The men set to work. Dienus gestured his servant, Emberlash, to come near. “Set up my tent immediately,” he ordered. “I’ll have to interrogate our new prisoner and extract all the information I can before going after them.”
Olira recognized the spark in Dienus’s green eyes. She understood what was coming, and felt sorry for the slave.
33
TESLATURAHEL
Sand was falling down into a black pit at the beast’s feet. He was screaming with rage. His hands were mangled claws. His face was the face of a demon. His skin gleamed like steel.
He looked directly at Tesla.
Tesla woke up, panting in fright. In the darkness, all he could see was the beast’s hateful eyes. Tesla thrashed his legs until he convinced himself that he was alone in the dark cell. His arms were bound behind him. He moaned in pain.
The beast he’d been dreaming of was Lion of Zarall. Tesla was certain of it now. The slave had the face of a demon. Adept Belandir had done something to him.
“Dragon bone,” Tesla whispered. His voice came out rough and husky.
How did Belandir even get his hands on a dragon bone artefact? They were so rare, some mages regarded them as myths. He thought Kiejain’s Army had disposed of all the dragon bones they could find; they even destroyed all the written evidence about the existence of dragon bones in an attempt to keep mages from researching them. It didn’t work. It only made mages more curious about the nature of the material. However, dragon bones were another topic Eternal Pillar discouraged from further research.
It was known that dragon bones were used to conjure demons from Darkhome. Some even speculated they were used in the events that created the Black Stain.