FREE NOVELLA CHAPTER Chapter Fourteen
Demon Heart by Kiss Carson
Copyright 2021
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Deep inside the Forest of Despair, leaves drifted from their far-reaching branches to the damp ground, silent, innocent. Low, barely audible groans hung in the frigid air, the sound enough the keep the most adventurous travelers away. Zachary stepped closer to the border that separated virtue from evil, his sword tip pointed toward the trees. Misery, in the shape of a nebulous hand, reached from behind a tree and grappled for him. Wary of the treacherous forest, Zachary shuffled away. Although he had traversed the forest several times without incident, he had heard stories of less fortunate men and demons, tales of insanity and acute sorrow.
“Demon Lord!”
The
desperation in Domini's distant voice made him uneasy. The shout had come from
far within the trees, and the Forest of Despair was prone to trickery. He
peered into the murky shadows that moved from tree to tree and stepped closer.
Behind him, Gagan mewled a warning.
“I
agree. However, Domini could be in there. You know how delicate she is.”
Gagan
lowered his head and growled.
“If I
did not know you so well, my friend, I would say you miss her.” Zachary
clutched the hilt of Aemon’s sword a little tighter. “Almost as much as I do,”
he added under his breath.
Mentally
pushing away his insecurity, Zachary took two steps and entered the trees. Mist
swirled across his feet, climbed to his knees with cool tentacles. Isha’s
warning echoed in his head. Regret and
grief reside within the shadows. He glanced over his shoulder. The trees
had gathered closer and if he didn’t know better, their gnarled trunks had
formed faces with evil expressions. All remnants of sunlight had vanished.
“Zachary!”
He spun
to his left. The male voice was more familiar than he cared to admit. He
clutched the sword’s hilt tightly. Movement came from the gloom between the
trees. Zachary tensed. Mist now caressed his thighs.
“Domini,”
he called with hope she skulked in the shadows.
Without
warning, a powerful burst of light launched from the darkness and struck his
chest. Zachary hit the ground hard. Aemon’s sword slid across the leafy ground,
lost in the mist. He cried out and grabbed his ribs with one hand while he
reached for his sword with the other. The first rule of battle – no matter what
happens always be ready to fight. Winded and confused, he tried to stand but
invisible hands held him down. He managed to roll onto his back. Above him, a
pinpoint of light appeared.
“Get
up. The Demon Lord never surrenders.”
That
voice.
The
circle of light had grown to the size of his fist and blue sky shimmered
beyond.
“Get
up, now, or I will kill you myself.”
The
tone left no room for disobedience. Slowly, he climbed to his feet. The gloom
of the Forest of Despair parted and slowly slid down his body like thick oil.
He no longer stood in the cursed forest, he stood in the sparring courtyard of
his home. Dorian, maybe sixteen years old, sat on a nearby bench with his sword
resting across his knees. He held an apple in one hand and a turkey leg in the
other. He nodded encouragingly and grinned. A genuine smile hadn’t lifted his
lips for nigh ten years.
He
raised the turkey leg in a salute. “You can do it, Zachary,” he called.
From
the corner of his eye Zachary caught the fast movement of another man. Before
he could move to defend himself, a sword hilt connected with his stomach. Fresh
pain exploded from his side. He doubled over. The same sword hilt smashed the
soft tissue between his neck and shoulder.
He dropped to one knee. Momentarily immobilized, he drew a ragged
breath. He had used the same maiming move many times before, almost as many
times as he had suffered it.
“At
this rate you will never be Demon Lord.”
Zachary
raised his gaze to Aemon Sterling. How had he come to kneel before his dead
father? Aemon paced, one hand on his hip, the other clutched a mighty
broadsword; Newlyn’s sword, Zachary's grandfather’s weapon of choice when
murdering innocents. The sword’s sharp point rested on Zachary's chest. His
father’s hand didn’t quaver. His dark grey eyes didn’t flicker.
“Fight
me, Zachary. Show me your worth.”
He
remembered the day he relived. Dear Papa
had very nearly killed him. “I will not fight you.”
Aemon’s
chuckle held no humor. “Is that what you will say to the many legions of
enemies waiting to tear you apart? I
won’t fight you,” he mimicked. He thrust the sword point into the dirt and
leaned on the hilt, hand on hip. “Here, I’ll even close my eyes.”
Dorian's
guffaw echoed around the walls of the courtyard. “Get up, Zachary. I know you can
defeat him.”
Zachary
met his father’s hard, dangerous gaze. Even in death Aemon was a formidable
foe. Suddenly his father was upon him, wrenching him up by his shirt, shaking
him until his head rattled. With a war cry of frustration, Aemon kneed Zachary
in the stomach and tossed him across the courtyard as though he weighed no more
than a swaddled babe. Grass burned his cheek as he slid along the ground. He
possessed no spirit to battle his father.
Aemon
sat on his back, pinned him to the ground, and wrapped thick twine around his
throat, once, twice. Then, he pulled. Within moments, Zachary's vision blurred.
Breathing became hard. The force of his father’s body crushed his lungs but he
didn’t struggle. The whole scenario was a trick conjured by the Forest of
Despair. Aemon Sterling was dead.
Aemon’s
fingers twisted the twine tighter. “I should have done this sooner. Dorian, as
weak as he is, would make a better demon lord than you ever would.” Aemon’s
cheek rested alongside Zachary’s, his breath hot and stale. “This gives me
almost as much joy as watching Chana’s head roll,” he whispered.
Anger
sparked in Zachary's chest. He reached back and clawed at his father’s face.
His fingers gripped the soft material of his shirt. Somewhere in the distant
blur of regret and grief, Dorian shouted words of encouragement. However, this
battle had become more than a training exercise. With strength borne from a
lifetime of obedience and fear, Zachary yanked his father from his back. Aemon
hit the ground with a startled cry.
Zachary
climbed to his feet and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He wanted
to tell his father how much he despised his practices and beliefs. War wouldn’t
solve every uprising. Violence wouldn’t silence every villager.
“I
loved her, Zachary, more than you will ever know. She was my wife and because
of that she was doomed to die by my hand. However, I cannot deny my enjoyment
when I finally disposed of your mother.”
Aemon’s
mocking smile infuriated him beyond the point of no return. Zachary lifted
Newlyn’s sword from the dirt by his father’s head and weighed the heavy weapon
in both hands. “Father, I cannot deny my enjoyment to finally dispose of you.” In one smooth stroke, he cut off
his father’s head.
He
dropped the sword and closed his eyes to shut out his murderous actions. This was the day I killed Aemon Sterling.
Through violence, he had become the reigning Demon Lord. His mother’s voice
whispered through his head. Newlyn’s
sword. Power up, Demon Lord.
Zachary
watched the swaying tree canopy. Every now and then stars poked through the
leaves but the joy the stars represented couldn’t cheer him. He had relived the
second most traumatic day of his life. He had done exactly what his father
wanted; lost control of his actions. A deep sigh whistled through his lips and
he closed his eyes to stop the nightmare that replayed in the shadows before
him. He rolled onto his side, the grass cool and damp on his cheek. His ribs
ached dully but he had suffered worse injuries. Such as a broken heart. Eyes
now open, he focused on the tiny flame that danced from blade of grass to blade
of grass. Zachary blinked to clear the hallucination but the flame remained.
Okay, Demon Lord, come find me.
Domini's plea failed to move him. He was supposed to protect her, be her
champion and defend her ‘til the end but he hadn’t fulfilled his duties as a
man, as Domini's husband, or Demon Lord. Mercy
Stone. Wishing the ground would open and swallow him whole he moved onto
his stomach and buried his face into the grass. Even the cleanliness of Mother
Earth couldn’t erase the sweet scent of Domini. The prophets had broken his
spirit. They hadn’t sent a warrior queen to help fight his war but a temptress
for him to love, and fight to keep.
I loved you, Jaye, I really did.
Domini's voice echoed from the flame that now hovered near his ear. When you died…A sob stopped her words. You will always have a special place in my
heart, but Jaye, I think I love Zachary. Domini's words should have sent a
wave of dread through Zachary. Instead, a spark ignited his heart. She needed
his help and the summoning flame had come to light the way. Faith in his
ability renewed, Zachary sat up. He would never harm Domini. He had not become
his father.
Newlyn’s
sword lay within reach of his fingertips, and the sight of the weapon deflated
his confidence. He picked up the shining blade and weighed it in his hands as
he’d done so many years ago, before he killed his father. Zachary hung his
head. The Forest of Despair had burrowed deep and filled him with darkness.
Help
me. Domini's sobs sounded as though she stood right beside him, and if she had
he would have soothed her distress. In his mind’s eye he saw her, beautiful,
vibrant, and trusting. However, he knew that in the end she would despise him.
If she lived long enough to know of his betrayal. Zachary shook his head at the
summoning flame. He couldn’t help her. Mercy Stone, he couldn’t even help
himself. The flame dimmed. He stared at the stars again. They winked and
twinkled in the sheet of darkness spread high above. Contentment and serenity
was what the stars represented. Freedom, security, might was what he
represented. Happy images flooded his mind: snowdrops, Gagan, and Domini's
beautiful smile. Her infectious laugh came alive in his head.
Memories
made Zachary smile. The summoning flame brightened. He stood, his legs shaky,
and slid Newlyn’s sword into the second sheath on his back. “Never fear, Lady
Demon, your champion comes.”
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