Demons and Kings (Hartland Book 2)

by J. B. Jenn

  Gray looked about. There were only two more demons. The others finished killing them. No more of his men had fallen. They were fortunate today to have stopped this attack with having only lost three men. Still, if the loss kept happening with every fight, Yul was going to be in trouble.

  Gray sat down in the grass, breathing heavily, listening to the eerie silence. Next time, he was going with his instincts. He looked toward his men. One of them had gotten demon blood sprayed across them. The man was in agony. He could see it in his face. As he stared at the man, Gray couldn’t remember his name.

  “I need you to return to King Zavad,” Gray ordered him. “I need you to request more units and wytches to be in those units and supplied to others.” The man looked to him. “Go!”

  The man hurried away. Gray imagined the man was relieved to leave the battlefield, even if it was only temporary. He looked toward the other soldiers.

  “We need to bury those three. There’s no one who can send them back to their homes. We’ll make their graves and carve their names into stones. It’s the best we can do.”

  Querra

  Querra had watched Galtrand for over a week now, growing more and more frustrated with the man. As of yet, he had said nothing to the others about the real reason he was here. She knew one of the royals had sent him, but which one?

  It seemed whoever it was would only return once Cascade was back on its feet. Querra remained where she was, grinding her teeth. Typical of royalty.

  She wondered why the man wasn’t telling these people the truth. She had so many questions for him, but wasn’t ready to reveal herself.

  When he stopped near her, talking to the redheaded woman, Latasha, she shook her head. He wouldn’t tell any of them why he had come. She wondered if he had orders to not alert the people to who he was and why he had come. Whatever the reason was, it frustrated her.

  Querra shook her head and left him. She doubted he would say anything to the woman anyway. He hadn’t yet.

  From the depths of the forest, she watched the others continue to clear away rubble. A few of her soldiers were helping. She thought about pulling them into a meeting. She hadn’t yet. She wasn’t certain she could trust them to remain silent about her presence. All it would take was one unintentional slip.

  Settling against the trunk of a tree, she knew she was going to have to wait longer. The immediate danger to Cascade seemed over. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel as if something else was forming.

  For several moments, she wrung her hands, telling herself she was being paranoid. For now, it seemed the worst of it was over. If it wasn’t, one of the royals wouldn’t have sent Galtrand here. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling something was about to happen, and she wanted to be part of it. The Relentless needed to be part of it. Irissa, the Tharroh’s leader, had said as much.

  With every dreadful thing that had happened, Cascade needed the Relentless. Hopefully, whoever was ruling the kingdom would come to see that.

  Querra looked to Galtrand again. She wondered if the real reason he was here was to find soldiers and train those who were not. She sighed heavily. There weren’t any answers yet and she was growing impatient. Soon, she would have to confront him and demand answers.

  Arem

  There were soldiers in the distance. He could just make out their forms. As he approached, their hands went to the hilts of their weapons.

  “You must turn back,” a tall, bulky man ordered. Arem met the man’s eyes. “No one may enter Carthoda.”

  An amused expression lifted the corners of his mouth. The man thought he was a mere commoner. When the man began to pull his weapon from its sheath, Arem held up his hands, giving a small laugh.

  “Easy friend, I’m only here to help protect the border. King Maik sent me out this way.” He saw a mixture of relief, suspicion, and fear cross through the man’s dark brown eyes all at once. “I don’t have anything saying as such but…”

  “Look, no offense, but I need experienced men out here. From the looks of you, you aren’t experienced in any sort of fighting. Just turn back and leave this to the people who know what they’re doing. I don’t want to be responsible for your death or any deaths you might cause.”

  Arem studied the broader man for several moments before fire leapt from his fingertips. He allowed the flames to jump out three feet. The man backed away, wide-eyed. He stumbled over his own feet, but managed to stay upright.

  “I can help. I assure you.”

  The man took in a deep breath, flaring his nostrils as he did so. “My name is Relyck. If you can toast some of those demons, be my guest. We’ve lost too many men already. If you can save more with that magic, do it. Just know, I won’t be responsible for your death. You’ll have to fend off demons just like my men. I won’t have anyone guarding you.”

  Arem stared at the man, wondering if he looked like the weakling this man thought him. He knew he was thinner than he used to be before everything had started. Instead of arguing with the man, Arem nodded.

  “There are more coming!” someone shouted.

  Relyck turned toward Arem. “Here’s your chance to prove yourself. Don’t make me a fool by dying during your first fight.”

  Arem clenched his jaw. He nodded toward the man before turning his gaze to the monstrous creatures. He watched them walk, run, slither, and fly toward them. He wondered how many of these demons had been humans at one time. He forced the thought out of his mind. If he was going to kill these things, he had to view them as the monsters they were, and not the people they had once been. He had to remind himself of this every fight. Even so, he couldn’t help but think about it. He had witnessed the process they had gone through too many times to shut it out entirely.

  As two of the creatures neared him, a bright fire sprang to his fingertips. Before the other soldiers got close to the group of demons, he let a massive fireball fly from both hands. It was draining, but if it killed any of them, it was well worth it. The soldiers watched as the fire burned over half the demons. Relyck blinked several times before looking back toward Arem in shock.

  Demons and soldiers were now so close to one another, there was no way he could release fire the way he had before. He could only help those with wide openings. He was not going to be responsible for the death of any of these soldiers by a careless move.

  With his assistance, the battle ended quickly. The soldiers stared at him wide-eyed, though he saw appreciation in most of their gazes. Hatred in others. It wasn’t anything new. Most people hated wytches.

  Relyck was at his side, grinning. “Thank you!” He exclaimed, clapping Arem on the shoulder. “Thanks to you, there were no casualties. You can stay as long as you like if you keep doing that.” He studied Arem for a few moments. “Is this why King Maik sent you?”

  “Actually, it was my idea to come out here. I was at the palace when it was attacked by a much larger, fiercer demon than any of these. He even had a small army of demons with him. When it was over, I found myself wanting to help elsewhere.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Maik

  His heart ached for her. He wanted to reach out and pull her tight against him. Kiss her plush lips. It ached just thinking about her. Thinking about the way she laughed. Thinking about the way her brilliant blue eyes shined with delight. He missed how he could tell her anything.

  Maik forced his thoughts elsewhere. He had spoken with Trester a few days ago about his plans for Cascade. Galtrand should have arrived in Kenokel by now, giving Janessa back to the city which had given birth to her. He hoped Cascade could be restored to its former glory. There were people all over the kingdom, frightened and wondering what would happen to them. Trester assured him most of them would recognize Galtrand as a soldier to the former king.

  Tears slid down his cheeks. There were times he simply couldn’t help it. Even when he was focused on protecting the Desert and its people, she would still come to his thoughts. He loved the way she had looked at him,
smiled at him, and even laughed at him. He had loved everything about her, even her stubbornness.

  He focused his thoughts back to Cascade, trying to shut her out from his thoughts. Trester was king now. He wasn’t certain how the people would react to him being their king. They didn’t have a choice though. He was the only heir to the throne. They either accepted him for their king or had no leader. He hoped Trester could prove himself. Trester had a difficult path in front of him.

  There were few people who viewed being a wytch as a good thing. He had a feeling in the war to come, people would view wytches in a new light. They were important. Maik had a feeling the wytches would be the ones to save them. Time would only tell.

  Just as he rose, a knock sounded at the door. He frowned and continued to his balcony. Since Janessa had died, he’d had little use for anyone and had locked himself away. Isol, his cousin, had even stopped bothering him, giving him time to grieve. Though, part of the reason was he had met a woman. The knock sounded again. This time, Maik stopped.

  “Enter.”

  Two of his normal guards stepped inside. A young man followed them. He looked as if he’d gone through hell and would collapse at any moment. The man’s shoulder was bare and exposed. He was deathly pale. Maik froze for a moment, taking in the gruesome appearance.

  “I must speak with you,” the man said, wobbling briefly. Somehow he found the strength to stay on his feet. “Captain Relyck sent me from the border to ask for reinforcements and more weapons. There are too many demons and their blood is destroying our swords. The men won’t last much longer.” Maik nodded and started to respond, but the man continued. “Your Majesty, more and more demons have poured through the border. There are some who have gotten past the units you sent to defend it. We need more men to prevent what happened from happening.”

  The man fell silent, swaying back and forth. Maik led him to one of the chairs beside the fire place and helped him sit. Kneeling in front of the young man, Maik met his eyes. He had barely given the men at the border a second thought since he had discovered Janessa’s broken body. Guilt washed over him.

  “What happened?” Maik asked, fighting the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Everything had gone wrong. King Barend was attacking and weakening their defenses further. If unchecked, it would allow him to sweep in and take the Desert. He had the force to do so. He wasn’t certain why he was taking his time.

  “Nalman is gone,” the boy whispered. Tears streamed down his face. Maik waited. “The people there were turned into demons. I couldn’t stop it. I barely escaped with my life to tell you. We need help and fast. I don’t know what else we can do,” the man continued, losing the strength in his voice.

  Maik stared ahead. Nalman was gone? His people were demons? The room seemed to spin around him for several moments. How was any of this happening? Like everyone else, he had believed Hartland was at peace. They had all been fooled and he had allowed grief to distract him from everything. Janessa would be so disappointed in him.

  “I’ll see to it the border is reinforced. I’ll send more soldiers today, and to Nalman to take care of the demons, if they stayed there. I cannot have my towns being used to fuel King Barend’s army.” He forced himself to take a deep breath. All those people. Gone. He looked to the young man. “In the meantime, you are to see Engrim.”

  The man didn’t move. Maik shook him. Still, there was no response. He checked for a pulse. Rising, he looked to the two guards who had accompanied the boy inside. “We need to see he has an honorary burial,” Maik said in a monotone. “He sacrificed his life to reach us, to inform us that…”

  He couldn’t finish. He was starting to lose his voice in a mixture of fear and grief. The young man was incredible to endure what he had. All he could hope for was the same strength.

  He watched the two guards carry the dead man out. Maik left his chambers. He had to inform the soldiers of what had happened and send more to the border. He had to send more good men to die.

  He hated this.

  Ogden

  He had just entered the outskirts of the Golden Valley kingdom. Just two days past the border, it became obvious why the kingdom was named Golden Valley. The grass in its dormant state was a beautiful golden color, gleaming in the sun. A gentle breeze made it sway. Looking out across the rolling fields made him smile. Everything out here seemed peaceful.

  On his journey, the weather had been temperate, hardly a breeze to annoy him. He hoped it would last. If there was one thing he hated about Lovic, it was the persistent wind. It was one of the reasons he and Hethera had often discussed moving. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, thinking about his wife, longing to wrap his arms around her. He hadn’t wanted to be away from her and Acen for so long.

  Ogden couldn’t help but look toward the east. He longed to reach out across the vast difference, touch her face, and wipe away whatever tears there may be. He wanted to tell her he was alive and everything would be fine. As it was, all he could send her was his thoughts of her and hope, somehow, she knew he was thinking of her.

  Taking in a deep breath, he pressed forward, wishing he had a horse. If he had one, he could reach Lansade faster and deal with King Sabin sooner. His thoughts for the last few days had rested on the king, hoping King Sabin would see fit to help the rest of Hartland. He hoped the King of Golden Valley was a reasonable man. He hoped Mercea was wrong.

  Every time he thought about King Sabin, something didn’t feel right. He hoped it was the thought of what would happen if he and Mercea failed, and not with what was about to happen. Everything rested on the land uniting against Carthoda. Failure wasn’t an option.

  Call for Purity.

  The thought entered his mind as if multiple people were speaking to him at the same time, whispering in his ear. Ogden hesitated. It felt like the voices he’d heard at his death.

  “Purity,” he called out, looking out across the golden grass prairie. He waited for several moments. “Purity,” he tried again. When nothing happened for the second time, he started forward again.

  Pushed forward by a gentle nudge, Ogden turned. A pure white horse stood behind him, glowing in the sunlight. Its blue eyes were intelligent and beautiful. For several moments, Ogden stood there, staring, openmouthed. The horse nuzzled him again, giving a soft whinny.

  “Purity,” he breathed out.

  The horse nudged him again. Ogden mounted it, uncertain whether he could remain on it without a saddle. He had never ridden a horse bareback.

  Purity began to gallop, but he hardly felt it. The land passed swiftly. It was as if he and the horse were one. It was an odd, exhilarating feeling. As the golden grass passed by on their way to Lansade, Ogden released his firm grip on the horse’s mane. He sat solidly on the back of the horse and felt as if he and Purity belonged together.

  “Thank you,” he whispered to the horse and to the Gods.

  Mercea

  As Ogden’s form grew distant, she called Grace to her. She felt his presence before he arrived. When she turned, he was waiting for her, standing tall. He had come in his true form today. When he had shown himself to Arem and then Lord Osrin, he had appeared as an ordinary black horse. He was far from it. All Servant mounts were far from ordinary.

  On his side, there were thin membraned wings, silvery in color. Grace unfurled them and bowed low to her, revealing his spiked tail. His skin was covered in scales, effervescing in the sunlight. She couldn’t help but smile. He was a magnificent creature. There were others like him who lived in the Wilds. He and other creatures the Gods had created long ago lived there as well. It was where the Servants returned when Hartland no longer needed them.

  Back when there were more Servants, they had chosen to stay in the other towers across Hartland. There was one in Horizon in the far northwest corner. Another tower sat in the Exalted Mountains in Salmachia. Yet another was located in the Spindle Mountains. There used to be more, but over the centuries they had crumbled away with no one to care for
them. Over the years, the Servants were now only stationed in the Wilds. A large part of it was from the growing belief in this new God.

  The Wilds was the only place she considered home. Seeing all manner of these beautiful, odd creatures made her heart swell each time. They were nothing like the ordinary creatures of Hartland today. She didn’t understand why the Gods had locked away Their creations. They should be among Hartland for all to see.

  Mercea patted Grace’s side. He snorted at her and nudged her. She stroked his muzzle before climbing up onto his back. Without a word, he spread his enormous webbed wings and took to the skies.

  Mercea lowered herself, wrapping her arms around his strong, black neck. He made a soft noise at her, as if telling her he would never let her plummet to her death. She’d never allow anything to happen to him either.

  Melancholy settled over her. She hadn’t been able to shake the ominous feeling. As much as she fought it, the feeling never left. Even with Grace, she feared going to see King Flynn. She knew she would do her duty. She was a Servant of the Gods, and Hartland needed this alliance, no matter what happened. The Gods wanted her there.

  Mercea straightened her spine, allowing the wind to caress her entire body. A soft smile parted her red lips again. Among the clouds, she felt free. There was nothing to worry about for a brief time.

  In truth, she hadn’t been free for so long now. Century after century she woke and served the foolish people of Hartland. Century after century, she insured they survived. No matter how selfish they had become, or how uncaring of the land they were, she protected them. She insured they didn’t destroy themselves. Sometimes, she felt, it wasn’t worth it. People were so destructive, always taking and rarely giving back.

  The moment she saw the palace in the distance, seriousness settled over her again. Her gold eyes, flecked with green, narrowed, steeling herself.