(Nine Parts. 9500 words)
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine
One
The hero was dead and gone, but Emanuel hadn’t forgotten her.
Despite his abilities, the ailing sorcerer never expected to reach the hero’s grave. The Dark King did not take chances. After slaying the hero who had been prophesized to kill him, the Dark King had toppled the seven sacred temples and destroyed every known relic linked to the divine, ensuring that there would be no further heroes, that there would be no further prophecy.
Emanuel placed his back against a boulder and muttered a cloaking spell as a demon patrol passed high overhead. It was the first patrol he had seen in hours, a token reminder of the distant past. The hero’s tomb had once been a breeding ground for the Dark King’s soldiers, a warning to all those who had fought at the hero’s side. But the site’s novelty had expired. Only rocks and stubborn trees remained.
After the danger passed, Emanuel resumed his trek. Every step brought pain. His leg could not be healed. It was a malady that required a constant flow of magic to suppress, an ever-present reminder that the Dark King had turned against the humans who had served him.
Emanuel’s regrets far outweighed his pain. He had served at the Dark King’s side long before the man had won the crown. When the hero had been slain, Emanuel had celebrated. He had expected to live a life of luxury, to forever stand at the side of his king.
Instead, he had been cast aside.
Emanuel studied the monument before him. The hero’s grave appeared unchanged, despite the decades that had passed. Her body had been fossilized inside a chunk of crystal. Her sword remained in her hand, and her face was smeared with the blood of her enemies. Seven statuesque demons surrounded the grotesque monument, serving as her eternal captors.
The sorcerer closed his hand around the statuette hidden in his cloak in preparation. The spell activated as he drew near. In silence, he watched the hero return to life within her crystal coffin and battle the Dark King. Their swords clashed several times before the spell ran its course, revealing the result of the battle — the hero’s head on a pike.
I can resolve this injustice, Emanuel thought, clutching the unholy relic in his hand. There need be no other prophecy for this one can still come to pass! I will make sure of it!
Dark words sprung from his blistered lips. Words that turned to shadows. Shadows that raced toward the demons surrounding the hero’s grave and leapt upon them like wolves, devouring the guardians and turning them to ash.
Emanuel fell to his knees before the nightmarish grave and began to pray. Not to the gods, for the Dark King had destroyed all that tied them to the world. He prayed to those who ruled the Underworld, to those he had bargained with so long ago.
This time, I will not be deceived, Emanuel thought as tendrils of darkness encased the hero’s grave. I will take my revenge upon the Dark King and claim the crown for myself!
Darkness slipped through the cracks in the crystal coffin and began to spread like the roots of an ancient tree through the body of the hero. The hero’s head was reattached to her body by black threads, as if she were a doll under the care of a seamstress.
Fire filled the eyes of the dead hero. She began to cut through the crystal with her sword.
Emanuel regained his feet with the aid of his staff and bowed deeply. “Sophia of Black Rock,” he said as she emerged from her tomb. “I have returned your soul to this world so that you may fulfill the prophecy. So that you may slay the Dark King. I will guide you.”
The hero observed him for a long moment with her flaming eyes.
Slowed by his ruined leg, Emanuel never stood a chance.
The hero broke his staff with her sword, drove him to the ground, and began to feast.
Two
Samuel paced anxiously outside the Dark King’s tent. The ruby-eyes of the demon sentries tracked his progress. Back and forth. Back and forth.
The Dark King terrified Samuel even more than his otherworldly servants. There was no telling what words would spew from the mad man’s lips, what thoughts brewed within his ruined mind. Nothing had been the same since the death of the hero a quarter century before. At least that’s what everyone said. Samuel had never known the Dark King to be anything other than insane.
“Must humans always be moving?” one of the demon sentries asked.
Samuel didn’t bother to respond. Lesser demons never sought casual conversation from humans. They only spoke in the common tongue to annoy them.
“He must be thinking up a spell,” the other demon replied. “Perhaps he’s trying to kill the king. This one is always squirming in his presence.”
“Oh! That must be it!”
“Should we try and stop him?”
Samuel didn’t take the bait. As the sentries continued to bicker, he thought again of what words he would use before the Dark King. The Dark King hated receiving bad news. He had been irate for months after learning that the sorcerers of White Mountain had discovered a way to destroy demons. Samuel had no desire to rekindle that anger.
But what choice do I have?
The answer was simple. He had no choice. His position in the Dark King’s cadre of sorcerers was temporary at best. If he didn’t adequately perform his duties, he would be sent to his death, likely in one of the pointless raids on White Mountain. Samuel cursed. He hated the snow.
“Sorcerer.”
This voice was different, distinctive. Samuel skidded to a halt and turned to face the Great Demon known as Marq. If not for the demon’s twin horns, black wings, and glimmering eyes, he could have easily been mistaken as a human. From a distance.
“Great One,” Samuel said with an appropriate bow. “I have urgent news for the Dark King.”
Marq sighed through his razor teeth. “The Dark King is indisposed.”
“This can’t wait!”
The Great Demon gestured to the tent. “Step inside, sorcerer.”
Samuel begrudgingly followed Marq into the ornate antechamber beyond the tent flap. He refused a goblet of the sour wine preferred by the demons. However, he did accept the demon’s offer to sit on one of the plush couches the Dark King had claimed from the fallen kingdom of Golden Spire.
“I’ve been authorized to act in the Dark King’s absence,” Marq said after pouring himself a drink. “He does not wish to be disturbed for any reason whatsoever.”
“Even by you?” Samuel asked. Marq was like a son to the Dark King. The Dark King hated his actual sons. They either fought on other battlefronts or were buried beneath the ground.
“Yes. Even me.”
Samuel licked his lips. Marq was reputable, unlike the other Great Demons who only lived for battle. If Samuel couldn’t tell the Dark King the news himself, his second in command would have to do.
“The hero’s grave has been robbed,” Samuel said.
The Great Demon spit out his wine. “By who?”
“The patrol reported no signs of life. The entire battlefield was empty.”
“What about the sentries?”
“Broken … by dark magic.”
Marq narrowed his glowing eyes. “And the hero’s body was gone?”
Samuel nodded.
“Was the crystal also broken by dark magic?”
Again, Samuel nodded.
“Shit.” The Great Demon rose and poured himself another drink. He emptied his cup in a single swallow. “I told the Dark King your brother was dead.”
“No guarantees it was Emanuel.”
“Stupid human! Of course it was him! He cast the spell that summoned the demons from the Underworld, the one that bound us to the Dark King. Only he could have done this!” Marq refilled his goblet and emptied it in the blink of an eye.
“Servant! Get in here!” the Great Demon bellowed.
One of the sentry demons stepped into the antechamber and bowed deeply.
“Pull Quin out of the pleasure tent. He is in charge until we return,” Marq commanded.
The lesser demon bowed and exited the tent.
Samuel eyed the Great Demon skeptically. “Did you say we?” “He’s your brother,” Marq snapped. “We’re going to handle this. The Dark King is not to be disturbed under any circumstances.”
Three
Samuel hated flying. Especially on the eagles favored by Greater Demons. Every inch of the winged monstrosities was colored back, beak to talons. Saddles were strapped to their bony backs, and their eyes glowed like fire. They were foul creatures capable of deafening an entire platoon of human soldiers with a single screech.
Of course … they did make good time.
It took a moment for Samuel to regain his wits after landing. He leaned against his gnarled staff, watching the ruined landscape swirl before his tired eyes, thinking of his brother. Damn you, Emanuel. You promised to disappear! If anyone finds out I saved you…
“Sorcerer,” the Great Demon called from the hero’s tomb. “What do you see?”
Samuel stumbled to where Marq waited, shards of crystal crunching beneath his boots. The site looked just as the patrol demon had reported. The guardians had been turned to ash, and the hero’s tomb appeared to have been struck by lightning.
“A spell was cast here, Great One,” Samuel said after inhaling sharply. The stench of magic was overpowering. “A dark spell.”
“Could Emanuel really revive someone who has been dead so long?” Marq asked as they circled the shattered tomb.
Samuel replied truthfully. “Yes.”
“I knew this display was a foolish idea. The body of the hero should have been burned. You cannot resurrect a soul without its flesh.”
“The Dark King wishes everyone to know the depths of his power.”
The Great Demon sighed. “I have no wish to hear propaganda, sorcerer.”
Samuel slowed at a familiar sight. Pieces of a staff. A simple cantrip confirmed the enchanted item belonged to his brother. The sorcerer’s eyes widened as he noted an object buried in the dark earth.
“This staff belonged to Emanuel,” Samuel said, picking up the statuette. “As did this relic. I have little doubt that my brother used the power of this object to revive the hero.”
Marq snatched the statuette from his hand. “This relic was made in the Underworld. How did Emanuel come to possess it?”
In this instance, Samuel feigned ignorance. The Great Demon would strike him down on the spot if he knew that Samuel had stolen the artifact from the Dark King and used it to save Emanuel. “Impossible to say for certain. No one truly knows the extent of my brother’s relationship with the gods of the Underworld. Perhaps they had a part in devising this plan…”
Samuel bent down to retrieve the remaining pieces of his brother’s staff, avoiding the probing gaze of the demon. His lie was believable enough. Or was it? Samuel hurriedly pushed the conversation in a different direction.
“Why would your gods want to kill the Dark King?” he asked, attempting to conceal his unease. “That is the only logical explanation for such an alliance.”
“All demons are currently bound to the service of the Dark King,” Marq replied. “It is possible that the gods desire our return. Killing the Dark King would free us.” The Great Demon produced a flask from the pockets of his black jacket. He drank deeply. “Do you believe in the prophecy?”
“The prophecy?” Samuel echoed nervously, wiping the sweat from his brow.
He had concluded long ago that there was only one logical explanation for such a seemingly one-sided pact – once the Dark King died, the demons would take over the world. Emanuel had never confirmed his theory of course. His brother had never liked to share.
Why did I save you? Samuel thought with disgust.
Stupidly, Samuel had believed that the Dark King’s betrayal would end his brother’s obsession with the mad man, that Emanuel would finally see the error in his ways. Samuel had been mistaken. Emanuel’s bottomless love for the Dark King had turned into a fiery hatred.
“The false gods proclaimed that only the hero could slay the Dark King,” the Great Demon elaborated. “Do you believe it?”
Samuel reluctantly nodded. “If your theory is true, that means the gods of the Underworld do as well. Emanuel couldn’t revive the hero alone. Of that I am certain.”
Marq took another pull from his flask and pointed at the ground. “You said the patrol reported no signs of life. You know the penalty for treachery, sorcerer.”
Samuel’s heart skipped a beat. Stay calm. Emanuel acted on his own. That is the truth!
Between calming breaths, Samuel studied the two faint trails leading away from the grave. One was made by a human with a noticeable limp. “Those are clearly the prints of my brother and the hero, Great One. Emanuel must have used magic to conceal his escape. Certainly, the gods of the Underworld know how to evade one of their own.”
“And left his staff behind? Human sorcerers never part from their staffs.”
“What are you suggesting, Great One?”
The Great Demon shouted an alien word. Seconds later, a winged lesser demon alighted before him and touched its midnight face to the ground in subservience. Marq summoned a wicked blade to his hand and decapitated the patrol demon. “Come, sorcerer,” the Great Demon commanded. “We shall follow this trail to its end.”
Four
The trail went on for miles. Samuel rode alongside the Great Demon, another unsettling demonic companion beneath him. Fortunately, demonic horses were far more stable than their winged counterparts. There was practically no distinction from their living kin. Except for the gleaming eyes. And the fact they didn’t breathe.
Samuel busied himself by repairing his brother’s staff. It was an ultimately pointless task, but it was far better than worrying about what awaited them at the trail’s end. The Great Demon had spoken true. Human sorcerers never parted with their staffs. Something terrible must have happened to Emanuel for him to leave the item behind.
Clearly, Emanuel didn’t sacrifice his life to revive the hero, Samuel reasoned. He walked away from the tomb! There must be a logical explanation…
But there wasn’t. At least, not an obvious one.
The pieces of the mystery populated the sorcerer’s mind like a floating jigsaw puzzle. Unfortunately, Samuel had never been good at solving puzzles. The sun had reached its peak by the time he realized the truth behind this inexplicable occurrence.
This is all my fault! If I had just let Emanuel die, none of this would be happening!
But … he couldn’t have allowed his brother to die. Samuel had fought to win the recognition of his brother for his entire life. He had followed Emanuel into the study of magic, into the service of the Dark King. Samuel had been certain that saving his life would finally bring them together. So certain that he had risked his own to steal from the Dark King.
Oh, what a fool I am!
The iron voice of the Great Demon disrupted his thoughts. “Sorcerer.”
“Yes, Great One?”
“I have a theory,” Marq said. “What if your brother and the hero are not alive?”
“Not alive? I’m afraid I don’t understand, Great One.”
“Your brother was executed for treason along with a dozen other traitors. The patrol responsible for the tomb reported no signs of life,” the Great Demon explained. “What if they are not alive?”
In lieu of responding, Samuel studied the wrapped staff in his hands. Spell light seeped between the gaps in the weathered cloth. Once the staff was repaired, it would stop glowing. If Emanuel had already been dead, then he wouldn’t have brought the staff to the tomb in the first place.
“Sorcerer!”
“I … don’t see how that would be possible,” Samuel replied meekly.
“Your brother has favor with the gods of the Underworld. They could have used his corpse and its connection to this world’s magic to revive the hero and rekindle the prophecy.”
Samuel considered telling Marq the truth but knew that he could not. “I suppose that is possible, Great One. Nothing is out of the question when the gods are involved.”
Even to his own ears, his words sounded incredibly hollow. He was a mouse trapped inside a cage with a cat. It was only a matter of time before he was eaten.
“You are right to fear me, sorcerer,” Marq said. “I can tell you are concealing what you truly believe. Tell me, or I will kill you.”
Am I so easy to read? Samuel thought in horror. He scrambled for something to say, something controversial but less offensive than the truth. He chose the first reasonable theory that came to mind. “Forgive me, Great One, but it almost sounds as if you want your gods to be behind this, that you … perhaps … desire the prophecy to be fulfilled.”
The demonic horses came to an abrupt halt. Samuel cowered as the Great Demon turned his nightmarish head and studied him with his gleaming eyes. His every instinct urged him to flee, but fear held him firmly in place. No one could outrun a Great Demon.
“There is a settlement ahead,” Marq said at last. “Certainly, someone there saw the hero.”
*
Samuel followed the Great Demon into the nameless settlement. It had almost certainly been destroyed during the hero’s last stand and reconstructed in the time since. Erected alongside the King’s Road, it consisted of two streets and a handful of dwellings, the largest of which was an inn. Fields heavy with crop were visible in the distance.
Strangely, there was no sign of the inhabitants.
Marq smoothly dismounted outside the town’s two-storied inn. At the demon’s sharp command, Samuel bound his brother’s staff to the saddle of the black horse and followed suit.
The Great Demon ascended the wooden stairs and stalled before the door. “Prepare yourself, sorcerer.”
“For what?”
“This place reeks of human blood.”
Without another word, the Great Demon kicked in the door and marched inside. Samuel took a last glance at the empty streets of the settlement before crossing the threshold. Inside, the floor of the common room was slick with blood, however, there were no corpses.
Samuel clutched his staff tightly and followed the Great Demon to a table near the fireplace where flies swarmed a pair of spoiled meals. After sampling the contents of the abandoned goblets, Marq stepped toward the fireplace and kicked the ashes with his boot.
“Are there any traces of magic here?” the Great Demon asked.
“No, Great One. I can’t sense—” Samuel broke off as something crashed to the floor in the next room. His heart began to pound in his chest. Again, he resisted the urge to flee.
Marq drew his blade from its midnight scabbard and gestured for him to follow.
The door leading the suspicious room was located at the back of the common room and barricaded by an overturned table and a barrel. At the Great Demon’s command, Samuel removed the obstructions with a spell.
The sounds within the room intensified.
“Open it,” the Great Demon commanded, blade at the ready.
A second wave of magic flung open the door.
A diseased-looking man emerged from within and sprinted toward them. The man’s weathered face was sunken in, and his skin was an odd shade of gray. Chunks of flesh had been ripped from his left arm. To Samuel, it looked as if the man had been attacked by a wolf.
The Great Demon stepped forward and crippled the assailant with a blow to the leg. The man did not seem to notice the loss of his limb. He began to crawl forward across the bloody floor, a menacing growl stemming from his throat. Another strike from the demon’s wicked blade silenced him.
“What was that thing?” Samuel asked. He had no desire for a closer look.
Marq picked up the man’s severed head by its hair and inspected it for some time. Eventually, the Great Demon tossed the head aside and turned to Samuel.
“We must speak to the Dark King.”
Five
After the black eagle’s latest dreadful landing, Samuel emptied his stomach then hurried to catch up to the Great Demon. He had nearly regained his wits by the time the Dark King’s tent came into view. Most of the world had stopped spinning.
“The sorcerer returns!” one of the ruby-eyed sentry demons proclaimed.
The other grinned. “Should we check him for weapons?”
“We must! This one is treacherous. Always sweating. Always—”
At a glare from the Great Demon, the two sentries instantly silenced and assumed a uniform, statuesque poise. Marq entered the tent without comment. After conquering the urge to vomit, Samuel followed the Great Demon inside like a loyal hound.
“Quin!” Marq snapped. “Get up!”
The Great Demon lounging on the golden couch, who strongly resembled Marq, cracked open a gleaming eye. “No need to shout, brother.” Quin woke the two pleasure demons lying to either side of him with an almost gentle touch. “Best leave now, my dears.”
Marq took a long drink of wine before returning his attention to the other Great Demon. “I said you were in charge, not to make yourself at home, brother.”
“You worry too much,” Quin replied coolly. “I had the servants turn away all potential visitors. None witnessed the carnal sins committed in this chamber.”
“What of the Dark King?”
“Forgot about him. He didn’t seem to mind.”
Marq bared his razor teeth.
“Relax, brother.” Quin chuckled. “You weren’t the one who had to tell him the hero’s grave was robbed. He is expecting you and your human pet to bring him good news.”
“Tell the servants to clean this place up on your way out,” Marq said. He waited until Quin had gathered an assortment of knives and other objects from the foul-smelling antechamber and exited the tent before turning to Samuel. “Do not speak to the Dark King unless directly addressed.” The Great Demon extended a goblet of sour wine. “For your nerves.”
On this occasion, Samuel drank, hoping the fiery concoction would cleanse images of the diseased man they had discovered at the inn from his mind. It did not.
Oh, Emanuel, he thought, I hope you did not suffer the same horrible fate!
“Sorcerer! It is time.”
Samuel followed the Great Demon through the door at the far end of the antechamber and into the magical space beyond. He clutched his staff tightly, forcing himself through the series of luminous doors that led to the Dark King’s throne room. The path was never the same, and it was only known by the Great Demons. Those who lost their way were never seen again.
The throne room was a dimly lit chamber of undeterminable size. Magic torches lined either side of a short path leading to a black marble throne set atop an equally black dais. Beyond the torchlight the impenetrable darkness was broken by the glimmering eyes of the Dark King’s personal demon guard.
Samuel focused on the figure seated upon the throne. The Dark King had once been a great warrior, but time had reduced him to a frail old man. The last vestige of his power rested in his brilliant golden eyes.
“My King,” Marq said, falling to a knee before the throne.
Samuel emulated the gesture. Only the Great Demon was allowed to return to his feet. Samuel lifted his eyes from the ground to watch the proceedings, praying he wouldn’t be required to speak.
“Your report, servant,” the Dark King demanded in his nasally voice.
“I have confirmed that the hero has been resurrected,” Marq replied levelly, “and that the sorcerer responsible is your former right hand, Emanuel.”
The Dark King growled. “That traitor was slain! You told me so yourself!”
“He was, Majesty,” Marq said. The Great Demon reached into his coat pocket and retrieved the statuette. “Emanuel was revived by his brother using this, an item stolen from your collection.”
Samuel’s heart skipped a beat. You idiot! Why did you ever think you could deceive a Great Demon? Of course he knew where the statuette came from!
“The two brothers worked together to bring the hero back to life in hopes that she would be able to complete the prophecy,” Marq continued. “Fortunately, I was able to dispatch both Emanuel and the hero; however, due to the nature of the spells used to restore their lives, their bodies were irrecoverable.”
The Great Demon produced another item. The recently repaired staff. “I have brought Emanuel’s staff as proof. A human sorcerer never willingly surrenders their staff.”
Jaw agape, Samuel stared at the Great Demon. He tried to summon words in his defense but found himself unable to speak. Not that words would have mattered. The Dark King trusted Marq more than anyone. He would never believe that his favored Great Demon had lied to him. The patrol demon was the only other witness … and Marq had killed it.
He does want the prophecy to be fulfilled, Samuel realized in horror. The demons are going to kill the Dark King and take over the world!
“The punishment for treachery is death,” the Dark King hissed.
“Please, Majesty,” Samuel found himself saying. Marq had revealed more than enough of the truth to send him to the grave. He had stolen the statuette. He had helped a known traitor avoid death. His life was over. “I don’t want to die…” The Dark King smiled. “I am not a king without mercy. Conquer White Mountain, and all of your crimes against the crown shall be forgiven.”
Six
The only thing Samuel hated more than snow was war.
Entrenched alongside a mixed platoon of lesser demons and human soldiers, Samuel huddled beneath his thick cloak. He had been transported to White Mountain and planted in the thick of the Dark King’s latest war immediately after his sentencing. His unit was tasked with taking a key enemy fortress deep within the vast mountain range. A fortress that would allow them passage into the valley beyond. A fortress that had already repelled countless attacks.
Samuel peeked over the trench and gazed upon the whitewashed landscape. Frozen bodies rose like skeletal trees from the icy field between the trench and the fortress. Nothing moved.
The structure itself was situated in a magic-made gap within a towering mountain. It wasn’t difficult to surmise that there was no other way to reach their destination.
“Sorcerer,” the Great Demon known as Enz said, crouching down beside him. Unfazed by the bitter cold, Enz wore steel armor as black as his skin. A monstrous sheathed sword was strapped across his back. One Samuel had no desire to ever see unleashed. “I have given you more than enough time to assess the battlefield. What is your plan?”
“My … plan?” Samuel asked through chattering teeth. The Great Demon had never asked him to construct a plan. Enz had simply positioned him in the foremost trench and told him to…
Oh, I guess that was what I was supposed to be doing, Samuel realized. What does it matter though? No plan I devise will ever work.
Samuel sighed. Might as well speak his mind. What did he have to lose? “Why trust any plan of mine, Great One? I have been named a traitor by the Dark King. I was sent here to die.”
“You were sent here because you begged for your life,” Enz replied. “I am a demon of my word. Get us inside that fortress, and you’re free to go. And yes, I meant to say it that way. I wouldn’t recommend returning to the Dark King. He’ll just send you to the next battlefield. Although, I hear the Red Sands is an enviable post.”
A demon of your word, Samuel thought bitterly. For some stupid reason, he had thought Marq planned to tell the Dark King the truth of what they had found. Demons cannot be trusted!
His first instinct had been correct. The gods of the Underworld had found a loophole in the spell that bound their subjects to the Dark King. They planned to use whatever disease had stricken the human in the inn, and presumably the revived hero, to fulfill the prophecy and kill the Dark King.
I have to tell someone about this! Someone powerful enough to stand against the Dark King! But who?
Once again, Samuel looked upon the distant fortress. There was one person who had proven capable of fending off the demonic army. The White King.
Samuel scratched his growing beard. He had never been good at strategy. Or at anything really. He wondered what Emanuel would do in his situation. Likely come up with some brilliant plan to defeat the Dark King … like gifting the man he loved an army of demons … or reviving the hero with the help of the gods of the Underworld.
Maybe my brother wasn’t so brilliant after all…
“Sorcerer!”
“How many direct assaults have you tried?” Samuel asked.
“There have been eight in total. I have led one personally,” the Great Demon replied. “I am the third Great Demon who has been posted here. The others were vanquished by the White Flame. I have little desire to meet the same fate.”
“You’ve seen the White Flame?”
“Aye, sorcerer. It is rumored that the White King himself defends the walls of that fortress. He knows that if the stronghold falls, the Dark King will conquer his kingdom.”
“I assume you’ve tried an assault by night.”
“And by day. And in the midst of a blizzard. Nothing has worked.” Enz grinned. “I trust that you have come up with something unique.”
Samuel looked from the Great Demon to the fortress, then back again. For once in his life, he believed he had solved the issue at hand. For now at least. Just days before, he had believed that he had successfully stolen a priceless artifact from the Dark King and won his brother’s approval.
“I will approach the fortress alone,” Samuel said. “Wait for my signal.”
*
Samuel approached the fortress. Alone.
The walk was far more grueling than he had anticipated. Every step into the knee-deep snow was exhausting. The icy wind cut through his cloak and the furs beneath, freezing him to the bone. Snow fell from the sky in waves, erasing his surroundings.
Some fraction of the way across, Samuel remembered that he was a sorcerer and cast a spell to preserve himself. For how long was impossible to say. Once he came within range of the fortress, there was a high probability that he would be instantly slain.
Well, at least it would be an honorable end, Samuel reasoned as he marched on. His father would have been pleased, not to mention surprised, to know that his youngest son had died in battle. Samuel wondered if he would see his brother in the afterlife. Gods above! After all of this, why do I still want his approval?
Samuel cursed himself as the walls of the fortress finally came into view. There was little chance the demons would see his signal and even less of one that they would act on it. Enz hadn’t forced Samuel to fully explain his plan … meaning the Great Demon expected him to die. Clearly, Enz had no desire to attack the fortress, to die for the Dark King.
Even the Great Demons fear the White Flame. Samuel managed a frozen smile. That piece of knowledge was the only reason he had any chance at surviving.
Samuel lifted the wards that protected his mind and directed his inner-voice at the sorcerer the Great Demon claimed lived within the fortress. Doing so was extremely dangerous as it made him easy prey for a sorcerer of any skill … but he had nothing to lose.
“I have urgent news for the White King!” he shouted with his inner-voice.
When a response finally came, Samuel nearly collapsed from shock. Or perhaps it was from the cold. He hadn’t expected to get this far.
“You are a servant of the Dark King,” a disembodied voice replied.
“I no longer serve the Dark King. I was sent here to die,” Samuel said. “Strike me down if you must, but first allow me to speak. I’ve opened my mind to you so that you may gauge my sincerity.” He tensed as a spell wrapped around his mind like a venomous snake preparing to strike.
“What is your news, sorcerer?”
“The hero was been resurrected by the gods of the Underworld. The demons plan to use her to kill the Dark King and gain their freedom!”
This time, a different voice responded. A terrible voice.
“Sorcerer!” Enz shouted from his side. “This does not seem like much of a plan! We are tired of waiting!”
So much for being afraid of the White Flame. I really am a fool…
Samuel turned, looked the Great Demon in the eye, and said with remarkable sincerity, “Prepare yourself, Great One. The time is near.”
Then, Samuel did something worse than stealing from the Dark King. He sent the Great Demon flying backward with a burst of magic and sprinted toward the fortress.
Seven
Samuel wondered why he continued to hope. Sure, he had made it inside the fortress. Sure, the Great Demon and the others had been vanquished. But it wasn’t as if the White King had actually agreed to anything. Samuel had been stripped of his staff and clothes and put in chains seconds after he had been permitted to enter the fortress.
Impossibly, the dungeon was colder than the battlefield.
Samuel felt naked without his staff. He hadn’t parted with it in decades. While awake, he always carried it in his left hand. While asleep, the staff never left his side.
Human sorcerers were nothing without their staffs. Without the link a staff provided, they couldn’t perform magic at all. Samuel hadn’t been granted the opportunity to restore the wards that protected his mind, or to rid himself of the unsavory cold that had infiltrated his soul. He thought it likely that he would die on the frozen stone floor of the dungeon.
Then why bother living? he posed to himself. Just surrender…
But he could not.
Every time Samuel closed his eyes, he saw the diseased human sprinting toward him. He knew in his heart that both the hero and his brother had suffered the same fate, that he was caught in the midst of a dark scheme. The gods of the Underworld would never have revived the hero if they couldn’t control her. His brother would have never left his staff behind if he had been sane.
To his surprise, Sameul stumbled upon a rather logical conclusion. The disease erased the humanity of the afflicted, and like any good plague, desired to spread. The hero had first transmitted it to his brother, then to the people of the empty settlement, presumably by blood contact. The infected had then abandoned the town, seeking to swiftly increase their ranks.
If this plague is allowed to run its course, it could mean the end of humanity!
Samuel needed to prevent that inevitability. Didn’t he? He was the only one alive who knew what was going on. Well. The only human alive. Regardless, a world ruled by the Dark King was better than one ruled by demons. A world ruled by an actual sane human would be even better.
I guess that is what I want, Samuel realized. Some sort of redemption for my family. It was Emanuel who allowed the Dark King to take power, and it was I who enabled this plague.
His motivations clear, Samuel finally fell asleep. It had been a rather long day.
*
The sound of footsteps awoke Samuel from his frigid slumber. To his horror, he found himself unable to move. A pair of soldiers stood before the bars of his cell. Both bore staffs. Samuel sighed in relief as a blessed wave of magic drove the cold from his body.
“Stand, prisoner,” one of the soldiers demanded. Samuel knew the voice. It was the same man he had spoken to using his inner-voice before assaulting the Great Demon.
I still can’t believe that actually worked…
Samuel obeyed. Slowly. To his relief, his body had regained its functionality. He almost allowed himself to relax. Then he remembered that he was a prisoner and without his staff. That he had no wards protecting his mind. That the soldier-sorcerers could kill him in an instant. But they could have done that hours ago. They had let him into their fortress for a reason.
“The White King will speak to you,” the same soldier said.
“Could I … get some clothing first?”
*
Samuel, once again fully clothed, entered a small chamber at the top of the fortress. Behind him came the two soldier-sorcerers and a trail of noisy chains. His eyes fixed upon the table in the room’s center where his staff rested atop a crimson cloth, then begrudgingly slid to the Great Demon’s head residing alongside it. The heads of two other Great Demons were mounted on the far wall. It was almost impossible to distinguish one from another.
Samuel was surprised when the soldiers left him alone in the room. He tried to stand, discovered his chains had been bound to the floor by magic, and was no longer surprised. He wondered if he stood any chance of convincing the White King to trust him. He doubted he would ever be granted his freedom.
As long as he listens, that will be enough, Samuel thought. Once someone else knows what’s about to happen, my conscience can rest in peace. I hope.
The White King entered the room. Oddly, he did not display his crown. His face was veiled by the hood of his soiled white cloak. Steel armor clinked as he approached the table. When he sat and removed his hood, Samuel gasped in surprise.
“A turn cloak sorcerer,” the young woman beneath the hood said. A simple crown was strung through her thick, white hair. Her icy blue eyes studied him like a hawk. “I am intrigued. What is this urgent news you sacrificed your life to bring me?”
Samuel took a deep breath and began his tale.
*
Atop his favored eagle, Marq surveyed the army below.
It was as impressive as he expected. Thousands of humans had already been turned to diseased animals. By the time they reached the war camp of the Dark King, there would be no stopping them. On that day, his kin would at last be free of the spell binding them to the mad human king. On that day, they would finally begin their true mission.
The conquest of the human world.
Marq guided his mount to where the leader of the infected humans awaited him. The hero stood apart from the others, alongside the mutilated figure of the sorcerer who had revived her. She had retained her infamous blade, meaning the gods had imparted her with some level of sentience.
The Great Demon slid from the back of his eagle and approached the hero. He marveled at the fire within her otherwise black eyes. She was very close to being a demon. In fact, she had been marked by both pantheons of the divine. She truly was the chosen one.
“My forces stand ready, Great Ones,” Marq said to the hero. He knew that his words were heard by the gods below. “Once the Dark King is dead, I will claim this world with the help of these infected humans. All will be accomplished in your noble names.”
The hero stepped forward in response.
Inches apart, they stood in silence.
“I see you have not been granted the ability to speak,” Marq said at last. “Great Ones, I will await your arrival at the side of the Dark King.”
The Great Demon turned and stepped toward his eagle. Only to discover that he could not move. Shadows clung to his legs. Shadows extending from the human sorcerer.
“What is this?” the Great Demon roared. “I am your most loyal servant!”
The hero sunk her teeth into his flesh.
Eight
“So, was it really your brother who unleashed the demons upon our world?” the White Queen asked as they ascended the stairs leading to the top of one of the fortress’ turrets.
It had been six days since their initial – and only – meeting. In the time since, Samuel had been transferred from his original cell to a windowless room with a bed, a table, and a rotating guard at the door. He didn’t see the need for the guard. He had no intention of escaping.
His staff had not been returned to him. The White Queen had claimed it as a trophy.
“Yes, Majesty,” Samuel replied. He kept his eyes on the staff in the queen’s hand. His staff. Wielding two staffs was a rather excessive display of power. Fortunately, he had grown used to feeling powerless … and realized he had never been all that powerful to begin with. He had spent his time in isolation wondering exactly what he had accomplished with his life.
“And he was in love with the Dark King?”
“He was in love with the man who became the Dark King. Not much of that man remains. The Dark King has changed dramatically since the death of the hero.”
“I believe you. No king in their right mind would slay their entire council. Especially when that king could only be killed by someone who is already dead.” She paused. “Why do you think he did it?”
Samuel shrugged. He had often pondered the Dark King’s motivations in the days before his brother was to be executed. Unsurprisingly, he had never discovered the true reason. “My guess is that the spell granting him control over the demons has repercussions. Dark magic often does. The bond it created likely corrupted his mind.”
“And your use of dark magic?” the White Queen asked. “What has it done to you?”
Samuel ran a hand through his graying hair. The cost had been high. “I … sold my soul to bring Emanuel back from the brink of death. I figured I was already going to the Underworld anyway.”
“You must truly love him.”
“Despite everything, I do,” Samuel admitted as they continued to climb. When the White Queen didn’t respond, he took the opportunity to address the current situation. “Majesty, why have you summoned me after all this time? I expected that you would kill me.”
“I wanted to ensure that you were not a spy for the Dark King before speaking to you further,” she replied. “If your arrival had proven to be part of a scheme, I would have certainly killed you.”
Reasonable. “What convinced you I was not a spy?”
“Patience.”
A sentry at the top of the staircase saluted the White Queen, then unlocked the thick door leading to the catwalk that surrounded the top of the fortress. The White Queen’s staff flashed and a sphere of light appeared around her figure. At her command, Samuel stepped into the sphere. Warmth seeped into his bones.
Samuel remained patient as the White Queen led to their destination. He focused on the landscape beyond the walls of the fortress, however, it was impossible to tell on which side they had emerged. Snow-covered mountains stretched in every direction, and Samuel had never liked geography.
Presently, the White Queen took a diverging path that led inward. Through the falling snow, Samuel could make out a stone gazebo rising from the heart of the fortress. The White Queen led him beneath the structure and expanded her spell to block out the foul weather.
Samuel stared at a shimmering object set on the central pedestal. “A looking sphere,” he said, surprised. “I’ve never seen one in person before.”
“It has belonged to the ruling house of the White Mountains since the beginning of the current age,” the White Queen replied.
“Aren’t they objects of the divine?” Samuel asked. “I thought the Dark King destroyed everything linking the divine to our world.”
“There is much of the world the Dark King does not rule.”
Once again, I’ve fallen prey to the man’s propaganda, Samuel sighed inwardly. Still, the sight of the looking sphere sparked what little of his hope remained. It was an odd feeling.
“I have been using it to monitor the movements of the Dark King’s forces,” the White Queen said. “It is because of this device that no demons have passed through the White Mountains. It is because of this device that I now believe your claim.”
Samuel turned from the looking sphere, noting the White Queen’s sudden grim tone. “What have you seen, Majesty?”
The White Queen tapped her staff against the looking sphere. Light erupted from the artifact. An image appeared within its endless depths.
“Death,” she said.
*
Quin cracked open one eye at what sounded like screams of terror. But that didn’t make sense. Who would be screaming in the Dark King’s camp? Besides those in the pleasure tent. Or in the Dark King’s antechamber which he had once again turned into a close approximation of his favored abode.
The Great Demon opened his second eye when the screams came again. He glanced at the trio of pleasure demons arranged across his body and decided it wasn’t worth the trouble of moving.
“Servant!” Quin shouted in his most demanding voice. Unfortunately, what came out was more of a crackling whisper. Sour wine and sour leaf never mixed well, even for Great Demons. After ingesting so much, he could barely think straight.
One of the servants stepped into the antechamber. “Yes, Great One?”
“What is happening outside? I hear screams.”
“We have everything under control, Great One. You asked not to be disturbed.”
Quin growled. “Well, now you’ve disturbed me.” He relished the fear in the servant’s eyes as he tossed the pleasure demons aside and stood to stretch. He didn’t bother to reach for his clothes. “You’re lucky Marq isn’t here. He would’ve decapitated you by now.”
The servant was visibly shaking. Quin prolonged the servant’s suffering by pouring himself a goblet of sour wine. He drank deeply, hoping to ease his cloudy mind, then gestured to the tent entrance. Outside, the screaming continued.
“Let’s get this under control before the Dark King notices,” he said.
The servant pushed aside the tent flap. And was gutted by a gleaming blade.
Quin stepped back in surprise as a human woman with fiery eyes and gray skin entered the tent. A human man who was missing half his face followed a step behind her. It looked as if they had been bathed in blood. They smelled worse than pigs.
“Do I know you?” Quin asked. Due to the frayed state of his mind, he couldn’t remember where he had placed his axe. He glanced over his shoulder and saw two of the pleasure demons cowering behind him. The other was attempting to retrieve his axe from beneath the couch.
The strange but familiar human woman stared at him. Apparently, she did not speak.
“I can’t allow you to reach the Dark King,” Quin said, expanding his wings and exposing his razor teeth. That sort of display usually forced the humans off-balance.
The human woman seemed to smile.
Quin exhaled in relief as another figure entered the tent. “Brother! About time you returned…”
The Great Demon trailed off as he noticed Marq’s skin had gone from black to gray, that his brother bore the same unnatural eyes as the two humans. Quin studied the black blood dripping from his brother’s mouth and from the blade bestowed upon him by the gods. Demon blood.
Marq stepped past the human woman and raised his blade in challenge.
No. Not just any human woman. She looked like the human woman who had been prophesized to slay the Dark King. The hero.
Quin turned to gauge the progress of the pleasure demon carrying his axe. Both her body and his weapon were encased in shadow.
Quin finished his last drink. “Fuck me.”
Nine
Samuel stood beside the White Queen, overlooking the frozen field below. The same field where he had assaulted a Great Demon and somehow survived. The field that, hours from now, would be filled with an army of not only diseased humans … but diseased demons as well.
He still couldn’t believe the diseased humans had turned on the demons. And not just the demons. The Great Demons as well. That had been a most troubling development. One that defied all logic. Were the gods of the Underworld not behind the disease?
Well, it’s not as if I’ve gotten anything else right in my life…
For reasons beyond his comprehension, the White Queen had requested his advice. Samuel had told the young queen everything he had learned from his encounter inside the inn.
Admittedly, that wasn’t much. Only that the diseased had no regard for their own wellbeing and that they could be killed by decapitation. Unfortunately, the Dark King’s encampment had not been prepared for an attack. The Great Demons had barely managed to rally a token defense. The one-sided confrontation had revealed nothing new regarding their latest foes.
And then there was the Dark King himself. Samuel had watched through the looking sphere as the hero and his brother effortlessly navigated the magical corridor to the throne room. There, the hero had dispatched the Dark King’s personal demon guard with her legendary sword. The Dark King hadn’t seemed to comprehend what was happening. Samuel had felt surprisingly disappointed when the old man fell without resistance.
“You are quiet, Samuel,” the White Queen said. The wind toyed with her white hair. It was a warm wind. Despite her youth, she was far better at controlling magic than him. “You look as if we’ve already been defeated.”
Samuel eyed the staff in the queen’s left hand. His staff. Even after the death of the Dark King, she still didn’t trust him enough to return it. “I don’t like our chances, Majesty.”
“This fortress has never been taken.”
“This fortress has never faced an army of ten thousand diseased humans and demons.”
“You still advise me to flee?” she asked.
Samuel nodded. “To be fair, I am a coward at heart.”
“If the infected get past this hold and enter my kingdom, there will be no containing them. Their disease will spread to every corner of the world. We must stop them here.”
“And should you fail? No one will know what is coming.”
“I have sent word ahead,” the White Queen said, “but we will not fail.”
Samuel was far from convinced. “Have you determined why the gods of the Underworld turned against their own creations?”
“That is obvious, Samuel. The gods of the Underworld want to rule this world. The demons weren’t getting the job done. They mean little in the eyes of their gods.”
“A fair assessment,” Samuel admitted. “However, it does not explain your confidence.”
“Do you believe in the divine?” the White Queen asked.
“Of course. It was their priests who prophesized the hero would end the reign of the Dark King.”
“The divine showed me how to summon the White Flame,” the White Queen said. “They will provide us with a way to defeat this foe as well.”
For some time, they stood in silence, watching the sun rise, watching the first of the infected appear on the horizon. The hero led the diseased army. Emanuel and the Great Demon Marq marched a pace behind her, well ahead of the others. It was clear that the trio was unique, that they had retained some semblance of their awareness. Samuel wondered if a part of Emanuel still lived.
They will provide us with a way to defeat this foe as well…
Samuel glanced skyward. For once, the snow had ceased, allowing him a view of the heavens. The home of the divine. A place he would never see for himself.
“Majesty,” Samuel said presently. “Would you believe that I have a plan?”
“A plan to win this battle?”
Samuel nodded slowly. “I’m going to need my staff.”
*
Samuel walked across the frozen field toward the hero and her army. Alone.
To think that I would willing put myself in this situation again! Just who have I become?
The answer was obvious. He was and always had been a fool.
Only a senseless ruler would trust a sorcerer who had broken an oath to their former employer, even if that employer had been the Dark King. Samuel had decided not to beg for his life a second time. This way, his death would at least have meaning.
Well. Probably. At the very least, he would buy the White Queen enough time to comprehend that defeating the diseased legion was impossible.
Samuel wondered if the infected could be frozen alive. Well, not frozen alive for they were already dead. No. That wasn’t exactly right either. The infected didn’t seem to be truly dead. Neither living nor dead. Somewhere in between.
They’re undead, Samuel determined as he approached the hero and her entourage.
His heart sunk at the sight of the eight undead Great Demons atop their nightmarish steeds. Thankfully, it didn’t appear the undead had chosen to employ the demonic eagles. That would have been problematic in more ways than one.
Samuel frowned. Getting so close to the undead legion hadn’t been his original plan. He had expected them to storm the fortress in mass. Instead, they stood in an organized fashion behind the line of mounted Great Demons. Snow clung like ash to their gray flesh and nested in what remained of their hair. They did not move.
At last, the hero stepped forward, allowing Samuel to end his march.
She looked far worse than the rest. He remembered seeing her interned inside the Dark King’s crystal grave. She had been beautiful, ferocious, and proud. A true warrior. Now, her gray skin was stained black with blood. Patches of dark hair had been ripped away from her scalp. Somewhere along the way, she had lost most of her teeth.
And then there was Emanuel. The hero’s first victim. His face was unrecognizable. The bones of his left cheek were exposed where the skin had been ripped away. His long nose had been broken, and his blackened lips were frozen shut. Only his devilish eyes betrayed any sign of life.
Samuel clutched his staff as the hero stopped a pace before him.
“Sophia of the Black Rocks, your purpose has been fulfilled,” he found himself saying. This part of the plan had little chance of working, but it was certainly worth a try. “The Dark King has been slain. The prophecy has been fulfilled.”
The hero growled.
Despite the snow, Samuel was sweating. He didn’t bother to calm his racing heart. He had already chosen his fate. It was far too late to flee.
Samuel managed a tired smile. One final spell, then it will be over…
His staff slipped through his frozen fingers and fell to the ground.
No. Something had pulled the staff away. Shadows.
Samuel reached for his staff but found that he could not move. He looked at his brother in horror. There was no question that this magic belonged to Emanuel.
The hero raised her blade.
“Emanuel,” Samuel pleaded. “If you can hear me, know that I never meant for any of this happen, know that I love you!”
To his surprise, the shadows receded.
The hero turned to Emanuel, allowing Samuel an opportunity to retrieve his staff.
His last words were a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
*
The White Queen walked among the frozen bodies. Her sorcerers followed close behind, using White Flame to erase the entombed legion. As there were thousands of icy statues, the process would take days. But the enemy had been defeated. The day was won.
“You were no coward, Samuel,” the White Queen said, standing before the frozen sorcerer, the man who had been sent to her by the gods. “You are a hero.”
THE END