by J. B. Jenn
She jerked her head free of his hand and stared at the far wall. Tears sprang to her eyes. “The child isn’t for you, it’s for me.”
Sabin nodded, finally understanding. He stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry I’m too old to give you what you want. It was selfish of me to marry you.”
He sunk down into a nearby chair and stared out the window. Talatha rose and left, tears in her eyes. He looked toward the door, wishing he could change things for her, wishing his love for her was enough. Sabin shook his head. Although he had more important things to worry about, it was difficult to stay focused when his wife was miserable.
“I see you’re having a pity party for one,” a smooth voice said from behind, making him cringe.
Sabin didn’t have to turn to see who it was. He knew her voice only too well. It was a voice he associated with evil. Yet, he had been willing to work with her. He wondered what it said about him.
De’Nae sat down in front of him, folding one of her long, smooth legs over the other. Her gray eyes met his. She wore a small, amused smile. He wanted to have his guards escort her out of his palace, but knew it would never work. De’Nae had come for a specific reason and wouldn’t leave until she was satisfied.
“Well?” She leaned forward to pick off a few grapes from the bowl on the glass table.
Sabin glanced at her, irritably. Laughing, she leaned back and studied him for a time as she popped grapes into her mouth. Sabin shook his head, once again wishing she would disappear. He had done what she wanted.
“It’s done,” he said, hollowly. “They’ll have no chance.” He closed his eyes in regret. Part of him still couldn’t believe Ogden had trusted him so readily. It wasn’t too surprising as the man was young and a new Servant.
“Good,” De’Nae purred.
“What about the deal I made with you?”
“Oh, you mean your little issue?” she asked, looking down to where his manhood was concealed.
“Yes,” he snapped. “I delivered my end. Now, deliver yours.”
De’Nae stared sourly at him for several moments. “You should be grateful, old man, that you got a woman like her to marry you in the first place.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied him. “Or was it she felt she had no choice since you are king?”
“Can you deliver?” he asked.
“Isn’t it funny how I can help you, but a Servant couldn’t? Don’t the Old Gods and their minions seem powerless?”
Sabin clenched his jaw, biting back his initial response. “So it seems,” he said, hoping it would satisfy her ego.
De’Nae rose and walked over to him. Sabin resisted the urge to pull away from her. Her fingers glided around his neck and down to his chest, curling in his long white, chest hair. He despised her touch. She was a venomous woman, but she could help him with his problem. He prayed his desire to make Talatha happy was worth betraying the Old Gods.
Her long-fingered hand cupped him. He squirmed. He tried to look anywhere but at her. There was a warmth down there he hadn’t felt before. When he looked down, he realized he was bleeding. A small, thin knife was sticking out of his thigh.
“Why?” he whispered, feeling his life’s blood draining from him.
“You fulfilled your part of the deal and there is nothing I can do to fix your problem, except end your pathetic life. At least, this way, Talatha can remarry to a better man and have children. She won’t be trapped in this pointless marriage to a worthless, old man.”
Sabin fell forward, crashing against the glass table.
Isol
He worried for Maik. Since he had gone into the city to fight off the demons, something had changed. He wished he had gone with him. Only then could he understand what his cousin was going through, and only then, could he help him.
As Isol sat in his cousin’s chambers, he watched the man sleep fitfully. At least, he was sleeping. Every once in a while, Maik would mutter something about demons and humans.
Isol didn’t like being in the room as Maik slept. He felt as if he invaded his cousin’s privacy. But he had come here hoping Maik would tell him something. He needed to understand what the man was going through.
So far, the man hadn’t divulged anything new. It was mostly incoherent ramblings. All Isol knew was his cousin was scared of whatever he had seen.
Isol shook his head and went to the balcony. The cool wind blowing across him helped clear his thoughts. Occasionally, he’d look back at Maik, wishing he could do something for him. Anything at all. The Desert needed him. The people looked up to him for guidance. Maik wasn’t the king he’d been before this started. War had changed him.
Isol looked skyward. “Please help us,” he whispered. “Please show us we still matter, and You still believe in us. Not all of us have forsaken You. Please, show us the way.”
Isol returned his gaze back to the horizon. For several moments, he stood there, staring at the flickering lights.
“Maik, get up!” he yelled, racing back inside. The man groaned and rolled to his side. “Maik, get up!” Isol shook him. The king opened his eyes. “There’s an army in the distance.”
Maik shot out of bed. “What? Where?”
“From the west.” Even as he said it, hope seemed to fill him. It had to be one of the Servants. One of them had succeeded.
Maik hurried out to the balcony. He stood there for several moments in silence. Isol watched him, wondering what he was thinking.
“It’s one of the Servants, isn’t it?” he asked from the doorway.
“I don’t know. What I do know is we’re gathering our soldiers just in case it’s not. I don’t trust anything anymore.”
Isol watched his cousin rush out of the room. Fear sat in Maik’s sea green eyes. Once again, it made him wonder what Maik had seen down in Heltarn. He knew it was humans mixed with demons, but he didn’t fully comprehend. His gaze flickered over to the city. A firmness captured his jaw.
If something were to happen to Maik, he needed to know. He needed to know what was at stake. He had to go into the city and hope everything Maik had seen hadn’t been taken care of. He had to know what tormented his cousin’s dreams.
Now was the perfect time to do so. Maik would be distracted with the approaching army. Deep down, he knew one of the Servants had succeeded.
Isol left the palace behind. The city was lit by those too stubborn or too afraid to sleep. He remembered plenty of nights where he had remained awake. Unable to sleep. Unable to shut off his thoughts about what could happen or what had already happened.
It was easier to slip away unnoticed than he had expected. The soldiers were more focused on the approaching army. He was certain at least one of the guards had followed him. As the king’s cousin and only heir to the throne, he was constantly watched. He didn’t mind as long as they didn’t bother him.
When he stepped into the outskirts of the town, he saw soldiers patrolling the streets. He walked past them, confident they wouldn’t recognize him in the middle of the night.
Along the street, there were bodies covered with old blankets, waiting for proper burial. It was fortunate they hadn’t been taken care of yet. With each new body he passed, he stooped and lifted the blanket. He stared upon the decaying face of people. It sickened him.
At the end of the street, there was a large pile of bodies. Two guards stood outside of it, making him curious to what they were keeping from the rest of the town. As he stared at them, he wondered if he could convince them to allow him to look. It shouldn’t be too hard. Most people knew who he was. Isol sucked in a deep breath, knowing there was only one way to find out.
He approached them. They met him with sour looks.
“These are not to be disturbed,” one of them stated. “They are to be burned tomorrow morning under King Maik’s instruction.”
“I must see what is so different about them from other demons.”
The soldier started to deny him, but hesitated. He furrowed his brow for a moment as he scrut
inized him. “Of course, Lord Isol. Forgive me. I didn’t recognize who you were in the low light.”
As the man pulled back the covering, Isol stared openmouthed. They were humans, but with demon features. Just as Maik had said.
Horns stuck out from heads, shoulders, and ran down along spines. Some of them had scales along their skin and others had grown odd limbs from various parts of their body. It was horrific to stare at them. It made him more certain these people weren’t in the process of turning to demons. No, they were something else entirely.
He looked back toward the palace. No wonder Maik was having such nightmares. Now, he understood his cousin’s obsessive need to know what had caused this. However, as he stared at them, he couldn’t shake the feeling these people had chosen to become this way. They had chosen to be hosts for the demon. As they were willing, they had only taken on part of the demonic features and hadn’t become the entire demon. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but it was there just the same, and it made sense.
As he stared at them, his blood ran cold, wondering what this could mean. He dropped the blanket in dismay.
“Let us escort you back safely,” one of the soldiers said.
Isol looked toward the man. “It won’t be necessary. I have my guard.”
Arem
During their last skirmish, two more of their soldiers fell. They were down to seven, not including him. Arem had taken the distraction as an opportunity to gain some demon blood. He had made the hasty pouch a few days ago from demon flesh. As he had made the pouch it had disgusted him and burned his fingers from the trace amounts of blood.
Now, as the others slept, all except one man who was pulling night watch, Arem sat there. His back was turned to the man. Arem moved the blood back and forth in its pouch, debating about whether he should try using it. After what had happened, he was hesitant.
Arem turned to look at Relyck. He didn’t want to disappoint the man, but he was highly curious what it would do and if he could control it. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t go crazy. He wasn’t entirely certain what had caused his insanity. It was the reason he stared at the bag now, moving it back and forth in his hands, feeling the blood inside of it slosh. Exhilaration at what could happen made his breathing unsteady.
Someone behind him shifted, making him stow the pouch inside his cloak. He couldn’t do it. What if he killed these men?
A different thought came to him. The same thought which had led him to making a pouch out of demon skin. What if he could help these men by killing more demons? He could save their lives. He knew he had to try, even if he was afraid to.
Making a small incision on his palm, he dripped a drop of the demon blood into his hand. His hand exploded with fire. In the night, it was impossible to contain the light it was letting off.
As hard as he tried, he couldn’t extinguish the fire. His hand kept burning and burning. He could hear the soldier coming to check on him. Arem sucked in a deep breath, desperately trying to control the fire. There was nothing he could do. He started to panic as the soldier grew closer and closer.
“What are you doing?” the man asked. His voice warbled with fear.
“It doesn’t matter what I’m doing. No one is in danger. Just return to your post and leave me be.”
“Your fire will signal where we are. Stop messing around,” the man said, a bit more bravely this time.
Although Arem didn’t turn to meet him, he imagined the man scanning the dark outside the area his fire lit up. They were always looking for demons. Just as Arem was about to respond, the fire vanished. He turned to the man, feigning annoyance.
“There, you happy?” Arem growled.
“No.” The man looked about again, eyes scanning the dark nervously. “What were you doing?”
“Are you suspicious simply because I’m a wytch?” Arem asked, scowling at the man.
“I repeat, what were you doing?”
“It’s nothing that concerns you.” Arem looked about. “I’ll take the next watch. Get some rest.”
“I can’t allow it. Your behavior will be reported to Relyck in the morning. Someone else will take your watch.”
The man turned his back on him. Arem sighed, wondering how he was going to explain this to Relyck. He hoped he would think of something by morning.
Trester
Three days had passed since he had seen Querra. He feared he had misjudged the woman and she had left with her mercenaries in a fit of rage. If he had misjudged her, he had turned away good help. Help they needed. Still, he couldn’t dismiss her threats either.
Trester shook his head, feeling like a fool. He shouldn’t have allowed her arrogance to bother him. He should have been grateful she had wanted to help. Of course, it came with a price. It was a price he was willing to pay, but not yet. If his father didn’t trust them, he wasn’t certain if he could either, especially after she suggested she could take the throne from him.
What the Relentless offered the people of Cascade couldn’t be easily dismissed. They needed help. If that was where most of Cascade’s soldiers had turned to after fleeing Kenokel, he wondered just how dishonorable they were. Then, there was Querra, a woman he couldn’t read well.
Trester traversed the ruined city with these thoughts. Most everything had burned, leaving behind rubble and partially intact walls of buildings. When he had first come to Kenokel, his heart had wept for everyone here. Despite this, he saw the destruction as a chance to begin anew. To make a stronger, more united Cascade.
It would take decades to rebuild. Kenokel would never be the same, but there would be improvements. There would be a school for wytches to attend, so there would be no more accidents like the one which had led to his exile. Yul had schools for wytches. He thought it a good idea. He didn’t want anyone to go through what he had. The only good thing to come of it was it had made him the person he was today.
Yelling caught his attention. He looked through the rubble to see two people sparring. A group had already formed around them. He rolled his eyes, wondering what had gotten into everyone. Yes, being here was stressful, but it wasn’t cause for fighting. There was enough bloodshed happening in the north as they sat here.
Trester sighed. He knew he had to accept the Relentless leader’s proposal and move the army north if she hadn’t left. Hartland needed them to fight. He was being selfish by not accepting. More people would die the longer he delayed.
Upon approaching, Henter and Nealik made a gap appear for him. It was one thing he loved about being king. He never had to wait. Everyone was always waiting on him. At the moment, it might be the only thing he enjoyed.
When he approached the two fighting, he saw one of the culprits was Querra Guard. To his astonishment, the other was Galtrand.
Trester watched them, interested to see what would happen. So far, they seemed evenly matched. As they swung and blocked each other’s swings, Trester started to grow bored. He played with the idea of icing over the area where they stood. He didn’t have the chance.
It happened quickly. Almost too quickly. Querra went to swing a wide swing. Galtrand brought his blade up in defense. As he did so, Querra’s leg swung out and up, catching him in the side of the head. By the time Galtrand recovered, her sword tip was pressed against his throat.
Trester watched as Galtrand met the woman’s yellowy-orange eyes. He saw newfound respect in them. Trester smiled. Querra was an interesting woman.
Someone came up to her and whispered in her ear. She turned and met Trester’s gaze, nodding toward him. Trester was surprised the woman hadn’t left. He had thought when he had turned her down, he would either never see her again, or would be forced to kill her. It was refreshing to be proven wrong.
“I see you stayed,” Trester said the moment she was in hearing distance.
She gave him an annoyed look, but when she approached him, she still gave him a bow of respect. “You didn’t give me much choice, your Majesty. I was coming with you to the north one way or anoth
er.”
“You’re mistaken. You had choices. You could have stayed and proven yourself. Or left, and proven me right that I can’t trust you. Or, you could have even challenged me for the throne as you stated yourself.”
“Do we have a deal then? The Relentless will be forever part of the soldiers? The women and men?”
Trester didn’t answer immediately. He walked away from the group of people who had gathered to watch the fight. She followed him, scowling.
“No,” he answered. She started to argue but he held up a hand for silence. Oddly, she obeyed. “You still have to prove to me, you’ll deliver on your promise. I will admit, I need you and your soldiers. I have no idea what your mercenaries did to make my father wish to banish you. Trust me, I will find out. If you can prove you and your soldiers’ loyalty to me, I am willing to grant all of what you asked for without the bloodshed and throwing Cascade into civil war.” He stared at her for a moment. “And I mean all of it. I am also willing to place you as in advisor in my court.”
Querra studied him. “Of course, your Majesty,” she said, giving him a small, respectful nod. “I know you don’t trust us, but I will prove to you, you can. I will also prove to you, your father was foolish and paranoid. The Relentless didn’t deserve banishment. The thing we did wrong, in your father’s eyes, was allow anyone who can prove themselves into our ranks. Some of them are minor criminals, others are women. I also know King Delane didn’t like our growing numbers. He knew if we had wanted to, we could have overcome his soldiers and taken the palace by force. We never had any intention of doing so.”
Trester nodded at her explanation. When he had first been exiled, he had horrible feelings toward his father. He should have never made him leave his home because he couldn’t control his gifts. He should have sought someone to help him. Instead, he had done the easy thing, not caring if his son was cast out when he needed help the most. Although his father was dead, he still had a difficult time forgiving him. He had needed help. Not cast aside. He had needed his family.