Throne of Magic

by H. D. Gordon

  On top of all of that, the bitch had stolen his brother from him. A terrible smile pulled up his lips, warping his once handsome face into something inhuman, like the thousand Demons still circling the hopeless sky above him. He lifted his hands into the air, holding the box the Dark Lord had given him high over his head.

  Black Heart lifted the lid of the box, and the reaction of the Demons was instant. The creatures let out ear-piercing screeches, flapping their wings more fiercely.

  He could feel his will exerting itself over them, could see through their eyes and hear through their ears, could feel the wind pushing beneath their wretched wings.

  Opening a portal into the Sorcerer Territory was easier than he anticipated, and he came to the realization that the magic guarding it must have been taken down.

  As if she wanted him to come. As if Surah was inviting him in.

  Well, he didn’t want to be late to his own party, and he was curious to see what the Sorceress had done in preparation. He sent a hundred of his thousand Demons through the portal first, to get a feel for the situation.

  His eyes glazed over as he saw the world through the eyes of his Demons, a rushing sound filling his ears as his consciousness flew through time and space. He was pleased that he got to adopt their senses. It was a perk he hadn’t known was included.

  Because more than anything, he wanted to hear Surah Stormsong scream.

  Chapter 42

  Surah

  Faintly, from somewhere far away, she could hear them screaming.

  The gaping black hole in the sky stood before her, the angry gray clouds rumbling overhead, promising a coming storm.

  They were coming for her, and the first of them would break through to this realm any second now.

  She was surprisingly relaxed, the dark power humming through her, filling her from the top of her head to her toes.

  Let them come. Let them all come.

  The land surrounding the semi-crazed Sorceress was eerily quiet save for the whisper of the wind among the grasses and trees.

  It was as though the life there was holding a collective breath, afraid to exhale into the supercharged atmosphere, as if the slightest disturbance could send the whole stack toppling.

  Surah stood alone in the clearing outside her city, ready to win or die for her people.

  When a terrible screech rent the air, she did not cringe, only tightened her hold on her sais, her heartbeat kicking up in pace.

  The first Demons flew through the portal, ear-piercing cries ripping across the sky, distorted bodies swooping low, claws reaching and jaws snapping, ropes of saliva dripping from their mouths.

  The first three Surah slayed with such expert brilliance that had anyone blinked, they would have missed it. She moved with the grace of a dancer, with the power and precision of a beast, and the calculated strategy only people are capable of. The sharp points of her sais slid through their rotten forms with an ease that was sickening to witness.

  And everyone in her kingdom, in fact, was standing witness.

  The Demons kept coming, more and more of them, one after the other. It was only a matter of seconds before their terrifying forms were filling the sky, blotting out the gray clouds with their large black bodies. They all directed themselves at the Sorceress Queen, attacking her from all angles.

  And Surah was cutting them down like weeds.

  With each one she killed, she felt the power intensify within her. She was a sight to be seen, a force to be reckoned with. She moved through the fray in a sort of macabre ballet, the black, unnatural blood of the Demons accompanying the show, spraying this way and that, painting everything it touched, steaming in the cool air.

  Surah was covered in the stuff. It disgusted her while also fueling her need to spill more. All she could hear was the way the evil creatures screeched and cried as she ripped the life from them. All she could see was the way they writhed at the ends of her sais.

  That lively black ink that had formed in her eyes nearly blotted out all the purple now and was spreading its way into the whites. The Black Stone hung on her neck, burning the skin there, though Surah could feel no pain. She continued to kill, like a machine built just for doing so.

  She portaled, sliding her sais through the chest and neck of one, and then portaled away and repeated the process before the previous Demon even hit the ground.

  She moved so fast that she was a blur, hard to keep eyes on as she would appear then disappear within the space of a heartbeat. It was as though her feet were not even touching the ground.

  And the ground, it was black with the blood of her enemies, just as she had promised it would be.

  There was an intelligence behind the Demon’s red eyes, and Surah knew that Black Heart was the puppet master behind these creatures. It could not be Dagon himself, because Dagon’s head was in a secure place, and would not see the light of day anytime soon.

  Surah made sure to look into the red, glowing eyes of the creatures as she killed them, her face streaked with the Demons’ blood, her hands slick with it.

  After what felt like both a lifetime and an eye blink, all the Demons who had entered her Territory lie dead on the ground, their bodies still warm and twitching, their cries of agony toned down to the moans of the dying.

  It was like music to her ears, food to her soul. Above her head, which was thrown back in exhilaration, the pregnant gray clouds burst open and rained down upon her.

  Lightning lit up the sky, striking with blinding force. Thunder followed, loud and angry, the sound so forceful as to rattle the earth.

  Surah let the rain wash over her, and shed her cloak with a swift movement. It floated to the blood-soaked ground beside her.

  Blades and weapons of all sorts were attached to her person, which was all muscle and curves. She pushed some of her lavender hair out of her face and looked toward the portal, her expression that of a woman with nothing at all to lose.

  Which was something, because there was literally everything to lose, wasn’t there?

  This question left her mind before it could settle. She stared into the portal, and in a voice not quite her own called out, “Is that all?”

  Of course, silence was the only response, though she had not gone unheard. Not in the slightest.

  A laugh sounded, and it took her a minute to realize that it was she whom was laughing. The sound was off, but sure enough, she felt the sensation in her own chest.

  Then she was laughing so hard that she was clutching her knees, wrapping an arm around her stomach.

  The sight and sound of this was disturbing under the circumstances. Bodies of Demons lie dead all around her. Her hands and face were streaked with blood. That black presence swirled behind her eyes.

  She had killed the Demons, yes, but who had truly won?

  “Is that all?” Surah Stormsong called again, her laughter drying up like dead leaves in the fall. “Is that all you got?”

  Chapter 43

  Black Heart

  “Is that all? Is that all you got?”

  The question both amused and angered him.

  The Sorceress had clearly gone mad with her possession of the Black Stone, no doubt due to the fact that she’d never been cut out to wield such power in the first place.

  It had taken him years to be able to master the dark arts, and much like the royal she was, Surah Stormsong just assumed that she was worthy of doing the same in a day.

  What a fool she was. How arrogant. How entitled. He would see to it that he wiped that grin off her face. He would finally make her pay for all the wrong that had been done to him.

  To him, and to so many others. He knew the Sorcerer people were watching, knew they were hiding in their holes and staring into their cheap crystal balls, taking a side in the match they were witnessing.

  And maybe some of them were rooting for him. Some of them had to be, because Black Heart refused to believe that the whole lot of them were fools.

  Also, that blackness in th
eir queen’s eyes had to be having some sort of impact. In trying to prove that she could protect them, Surah was sacrificing her soul.

  All in all, despite her having killed a hundred of Dagon’s Demons with disconcerting ease, things were going well. He couldn’t care less if the Sorceress painted every inch of the Territory with Demon blood (the same could be said about his feelings toward the Fae Guardians who would soon be joining the battle, though this was not something he would tell Tristell) as long as he took down the last of the Stormsong line.

  Once she was dead, the throne to the Sorcerer Kingdom would be as open as a book, free for the taking.

  And once the people saw Surah fall to him, who would dare stand in his way? Who would dare deny him the power he would clearly have earned?

  No one, that was who.

  She may have killed those first Demons, but that had been nothing more than a test run, a dipping of his toes in the water.

  In doing so, he’d learned that she had indeed divided the Hunter forces, sending them to protect the Sorcerer people, rather than her and her castle.

  Not only had she done this, but she’d sealed all the entrances into the Territory save for the portal at which she stood. Foolish girl.

  He held the box out in front of him now, staring into the depthless darkness inside. In it, he saw all the things he had worked and waited so long for, the future he would build with Tristell by his side, the new world the two of them had imagined.

  A world where Sorcerer and Fae intermingled, strengthening their forces by being together, and treating all as equals who lived among them.

  In theory, it was not as bad of an idea as one may expect from him, but theory and practice do not always walk hand in hand, and sometimes the worst of things came from the best of intentions.

  How could one rule justly when there was nothing left but hate in their heart?

  Gritting his teeth, he sent the rest of the Demons through the portal. He would let them weaken her, draw out the last of her strength.

  Even with the Black Stone hanging around her neck, Surah Stormsong could not fight forever. She would tire, and when she did, he would come through the portal and deliver the death that she deserved.

  Before the eyes of Gods and men, he would slaughter her, and when he did, whomever should stand at her side—kin and stranger alike—would follow the same fate.

  Now it was his turn to laugh. It was an ugly, cackling sound that echoed in the fiery realm of the Underworld. He threw his head back and laughed much in the same manner the Sorceress had affected moments ago, his body wracking with the power of it.

  Even if she called every Sorcerer Hunter she had to her aid right now, it would not be enough to defeat what he had planned for her. The forces he had gathered were too great, the odds too heavily stacked.

  Was that all he had?

  No, dearest queen, he thought, the laughter still bubbling up his throat. That was not all. That was not all by a long shot.

  In fact, the battle had only just begun, the blood spilled only a fraction of what was to come. Of this, he was certain.

  Black Heart was all in, had every chip in the center of the table, and there was no turning back now. No retreat, and no surrender.

  Today would be a day of death, and from the ashes, he would be the one to rise.

  Chapter 44

  Charlie

  Arrol left, bidding them farewell, opting for the door this time rather than the smashed window.

  Aria sighed, looking down at the shattered glass on her living room floor. “Mr. Peters won’t be happy about that,” she said.

  Charlie was practically jumping out of his skin to get to Surah, even though he knew Aria would have to come with him and this would likely put her in terrible danger.

  Maybe it was the whole situation, but his gut was telling him something was wrong, that he needed to return to his own land post haste.

  “I can fix that with a little magic when we get back,” he said, nodding at the broken window, his handsome face grave, “but we need to go.”

  “You can fix broken glass with magic?” she asked.

  “You can fix almost anything with magic, the trick is not to go breaking it further.”

  Aria nodded, switching her wooden staff to her left hand, holding her right out to Charlie. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go then. Let’s go save your world.”

  She smiled as she said this, and the sight of it tore at his heart. There was so much innocence behind it, so much blind faith—the kind of hope one can only find in the eyes of a child.

  For a moment, Charlie wasn’t sure he could do it. He wasn’t sure he could let her risk everything to help him. He stared at her extended hand—it was so small, given so freely—but did not take it.

  This was wrong, and the ends didn’t justify the means. Then again, how could he leave his beloved to face all that she was facing alone?

  There was no right answer here, no clear path, no black and white.

  Aria stared at him with green eyes brighter than any he’d ever seen, and she used the hand she’d held out to him to push some of her red-brown hair out of her face. She still held her wooden staff in the other.

  “Okay,” she said. “I see you’re having trouble with this, so I’m going to help you out again.”

  Charlie hardly had time to process this before Aria grabbed fast hold of his arm, and once again, he found himself falling into nothingness, as if the floor had opened up and swallowed him whole.

  Just before he had fallen into the portal, he would swear he heard the Halfling girl say, “Uh, oh,” before her voice was lost in the void.

  As soon as they landed on the other side of the portal, the reason for Aria’s utterance became clear.

  They hit the hard earth with an impact that rattled his teeth, jolted up his spine. His head spun for a moment before his vision cleared and he was able to take in the scene before him.

  They had landed in a field, and a look to the west told him that it was just outside Zadira. The sky was spitting cold rain, as if trying to wash away the gore that was covering the grass at their feet.

  Demons circled above their heads, screeching and screaming. Wind whipped at his face and hair, tugged at his clothes like an insistent child. Chaos stormed, thunder rumbled.

  And in the midst of all this was Surah.

  Her eyes were an awful swirling black. Her hands, her face, her clothes soaked in blood.

  All of this Charlie Redmine took in in a matter of seconds, for a moment later Aria was tugging on his arm and screaming at him to duck.

  Charlie snapped to attention just in time to avoid the talons of a swooping Demon. It came at him again out of seemingly nowhere, but Aria smacked it on the head with her wooden staff.

  The Demon stumbled back, wings beating wildly at the air, dazed.

  Raising her staff again, Aria shooed the creature away the way one might a fly. To Charlie’s complete and utter amazement, the Demon took off, flying in the direction of the others, their focus on killing Surah.

  “Pretty sure that makes three times I’ve saved your life, Sorcerer,” Aria grinned.

  Charlie didn’t respond. In fact, he hadn’t even heard her. He was too busy staring at the scene they’d been thrust into, the horror that was unfolding before him.

  Time slowed to a crawl as he looked at Surah, at what had become of her in his absence.

  He hardly recognized the woman he loved. She had the same lavender hair, the same perfect figure, the same angelic face and fine clothes, but the Sorceress slaying Demon after Demon before him was not Surah Stormsong.

  Her once-violet eyes were a writhing, inky black. Her face was set and emotionless. She moved through the air with the grace of an avenging Angel. She blinked in and out of sight—spinning, teleporting, slicing.

  The black blood of the Demons sprayed and spurted. Her hair hung wet and dripping, flipping around her as if in a dance of its own.

  Charlie had never seen su
ch a thing, had only ever heard stories. It was just as the tales had said, just as recognizable as a deformity.

  Surah had gone crazy with dark magic, had fallen under the full clutches of the Black Stone, which Charlie saw hung close around her neck.

  Surah took no note of him, only continued on in her devastating death-dance, killing Demon after Demon, using more and more dark magic with every passing second.

  The true horror of the situation struck home then. All of these realizations came to him so fast that his head all but spun on his shoulders.

  Surah had opened a portal right here, had decided to take on his brother on her own, and she was doing so with an amount of black magic that could crush the strongest of warriors into nothing.

  She was defending her kingdom at the cost of her own soul.

  Charlie Redmine had never loved her more than he did in that moment, and his heart had never ached so terribly as well, because even if Surah could kill every Demon and Fae that came at her, she would still be lost, drowning in the darkness of the Black Stone.

  He could only pray that it was not too late, that there was still a part of her that could be reached. If he had a chance at doing that, he needed to remove the Black Stone from her, to finish the killing on his own.

  Just by looking at her now, he could see that this would be nearly impossible. He’d have a better shot at stealing a steak from a tiger.

  In the small moments he took to conclude this, Demons continued to pour out of the wound in the sky, rain continued to fall, and blood continued to spill.

  Charlie turned to Aria, told her to get somewhere safe, and barely heard his own words for all the chaos around him and the numbness in his chest.

  “I’m coming, love,” he said, and moved into the fray.

  Chapter 45

  Surah