Half-Demon's Revenge

by Lina J. Potter

  I explained that to Tom, but he only shrugged. “It would put you at ease, wouldn’t it?”

  It would. A lot. But what about Tom himself?

  “I already know you wouldn’t betray or set me up. Martha explained everything to us. It’s hard for you to trust people, which is why we should put our trust in you.”

  And he smiled. Bless his heart, my loyal friend.

  ***

  Alethar, the capital of Radenor, made a dual impression on me. The first thing I felt was awe. Imagine a blue sea, green hills, golden dunes in the distance, and a snow-white pearl lying between them as if all was right in the world. My ancestor clearly had good taste.

  “Two thousand years and not a single capture...”

  I nodded to Tom. Yes, when my sire, Alethar Radenor, had arrived, there had been nothing. And he might have stood right where I did, looking at the sea and the hills—and envisioned this city. The construction was finished during the reign of Alethar’s grandson.

  Wide streets, homes of noble families, parks, commoner districts—everything was made of stone. It was plain-looking, unadorned, quarried not far from there. The city was planned and built at once. Recently, it had grown, bolstered with a few suburbs and villages, but even my uncle didn’t risk ruining this magnificent place by expanding it too much. Even he realized that the city’s charm would be broken if even a small part of it was modified.

  It was right at that moment that I realized why my mother had wanted to protect Radenor so much. That was our blood. That beauty had never cowered before invaders, hadn’t known the hungry fires of war or the stain of dirt, hadn’t been conquered by the enemy. How could it surrender without a fight? Not in a million years.

  Michelle couldn’t rule, even if she would have been a great queen. Rudolph was no ruler, even if he had become a king. What would I be? I didn’t know. But I knew I would never give up that gorgeous sight. Even half-demons could have something pure inside their souls, couldn’t they? Or better, in their possession.

  From far away, Alethar seemed beautiful. However, at close range, it was dreary-looking people, fat servants and thralls, dirty children, rats scurrying about between heaps of thrash and junk.

  Henry winced in disgust. “Nobody dared to litter while your grandfather was alive. They used to collect garbage every day, there was even a special guild—but then Abigail’s cousin took over...”

  “Enough said. Does it still exist?”

  “It does, but not for long.”

  “We’ll see...”

  I was in my human form, of course, all pretty and gentle-looking. I liked my appearance. Wasn’t I cute? Fair-haired, blue-eyed, a perfect replica of my mother. Except for the fact that her tongue hadn’t been forked, and when I lost control, that was how the reverse transformation started. My voice also became raspy, hissing, but why should I care, really? I wasn’t going to kiss anybody here or let anyone look inside my mouth, and the rest didn’t matter. The claws, however... For some reason, they were the second to transform. Gloves wouldn’t help. The only way was to keep myself in check every minute. I absolutely couldn’t blow up.

  Do half-demons have good self-control? Honestly, not really. But I was also a necromancer, and necromancers who wore their emotions on their sleeves didn’t live long. For us, calm and peace of mind were crucial. And I was calm, quiet as a grave. Which was the exact place where those who disturbed me would go. I might be patient, but I am also vindictive. I’d endure everything, but I would take my revenge, and it would be spectacular.

  A long line of people was standing near the city gates. It moved slowly, so we decided not to wait and moved along. Those people were dead tired, with sullen cheeks. Some were dirty, some almost clean, yet all had the look of utter hopelessness in their eyes.

  “They aren’t living. They’re surviving.” I glanced at Henry, but my teacher only smiled and tousled my braided hair.

  “Alex, everything’s written all over your face. And I can’t read thoughts yet, although with you, I might one day start to.”

  I stuck out my tongue at him.

  “Not for myself, but for their sake. People do not deserve to be treated like cattle...”

  I nodded. He was probably right. Why would I give a damn about other people, though? I didn’t. If the whole line in front of me just died, I would barely register it. I cared only about my family, and that was it. Who were those people to me? Just commoners painted into a corner by life, who didn’t do anything to fight their fate. Torrin’s residents weren’t anything like them. Ever since we had started to live in the castle, the county had sprung to life. People knew they had those who could defend them. They were ready to work and strive for a better life for their children and themselves. And these miserable wretches, they were hopeless.

  In sharp contrast, the guards at the gates seemed well-fed and rather loutish. They were rummaging through crates and carts, pressing the crowd, and pawing over pretty girls, all the while exchanging dirty jokes. I clenched my teeth and had to restrain myself. A prince is supposed to travel with heralds, banners, standards, and an entourage. Unfortunately, my uncle didn’t send me any money for that, and I had to make do as usual. I was riding an ordinary horse—we had decided to find a warhorse in the capital—and dressed in ordinary clothes. Henry and Tom weren’t bedecked in jewels either. It’s not like we needed much more on the road.

  We could be identified by our weapons—Henry had always ordered insanely expensive steel from Tevarr, but the Tevarrian blacksmiths specialized in weapons of war: simple, functional, comfortable to use, and completely plain-looking. Not a single gem on the handle, just shark skin. The grey color didn’t look imposing at all. Yet it made the grip tighter, and you wouldn’t drop the weapon even if you fought knee-deep in blood.

  After a long ride, we finally reached the gates. Upon noticing us, the guards fell silent. We might be beggars, yokels, and nobodies, but still nobles, and if a noble wanted to execute an insolent commoner, he’d get his wish in an instant. In my grandfather’s days, such cases had been looked into, and an unjust noble could easily lose his head, but the times had changed. Rudolph declared that ruling the rabble was the nobles’ divine right, and they ruled as they wished and as long as they wished. The taxes were sky high, the peasants were bound to the land, the droit du seigneur was restored, and the people didn’t protest. Maybe such was their nature.

  “We’re from Torrin,” Henry said in a haughty tone. “How much?”

  “Well, six people, six h’rses... Six silver in total,” a guardsman promptly replied.

  Henry raised his eyebrow but didn’t comment. He reached out, and six Alcoins slowly fell in the bag. One more landed in a guard’s palm.

  “Drink to our health after your watch!”

  Judging by the oily look on the face of the guard, who quickly grabbed the coin, that was exactly his intention. He’d drink, and he’d get hammered.

  We nudged the horses and rode up the street, while the guards continued shaking down the lamblike peasants.

  “Why don’t they do something?” I looked at Henry blankly. “There are so many of them! They could gang up on those jerks, crush them—and that’s it, no chance to fight. Even with mages, it’s a whole crowd, after all... But they just stand and take it! Getting robbed, their wives and daughters fondled... Why?”

  “It’s fear, Alex.”

  “But they don’t have anything.”

  “That’s what you think. They are afraid even for their scraps.”

  “But why in Torrin—”

  “Because in Torrin, you protect the people.”

  “We protect.”

  “Doesn’t matter. At home, every little person knows that there’s a big one behind them—you. You are responsible for them; you will help them. Won’t you?”

  “Absolutely!”

  “Right. And these people have nobody at all. Remember, Alex; even the weakest man becomes strong if he’s not alone. Never mind that they might n
ot even need the assistance. The peasants would manage themselves, but they have to know that someone’s taking care of them. Otherwise, they aren’t people; they are cattle. And every man’s for himself.”

  “And I’m for everyone?”

  “God rules in heaven; the king rules the land. But Radenor was unlucky; neither one is here.”

  I could only nod.

  Oh, Henry. And you used to be a warmonger and an outlaw... Michelle changed everyone she touched. That’s how the gift of fire worked: it burned everything that wasn’t needed, leaving only pure essence in its wake—a warrior and a liege.

  ***

  The capital was all white houses, cobbled streets, amazing architecture, all meticulously planned and built—and at the same time, a stark contrast between noble houses, all well-tended, flowers blooming in the yards, and people on the streets.

  As always, they were poor, pathetic, desperate. Looking at them, I started to realize how hard it was to pass by without stopping to help. Who else if not me?

  By the right of my blood and my lineage I was responsible for the country, and if I did nothing, I would be ashamed to look into the eyes of my ancestors—even demons. They had never surrendered without a fight, after all!

  The royal palace was glorious, surrounded by a fence made of bronze. Yet right next to the driveway, a legless cripple was sitting in the dust of the road, asking for alms. He truly was a cripple; I saw that by his aura. I had never seen anything like that in Torrin.

  I felt bad. Each time I remember his bleak expression, shame rolls up on me in waves. I threw a couple of silvers in his hat and followed Henry toward the gates. What else could I do? How could I help? I can still feel the bitter taste of his grateful look in my mouth.

  “Who goes there?”

  The guards here were cheekier.

  “His Highness Alexander Leonard Radenor with his entourage,” Henry spoke through set teeth, holding a hand on his whip. That didn’t seem to make an impression on the guard.

  “What Alexander? Our prince is His Highness Andre—”

  Sh-h-h-h! The whip cut the air so quickly I barely noticed. The guard fell on the ground and screamed. Henry had just lashed him in his fat face.

  “None of your business, you peasant!” my teacher bellowed. “Go on, tell your superior!”

  Then he turned to me, bowing as if trying to please me:

  “Forgive me, Your Highness, for these twits.”

  The twits got moving, looking at us with undisguised hostility. But Henry still didn’t put his whip away and started playing with his throwing dagger, Tom was holding the grip of his saber, and all I was thinking about was ripping someone’s throat out... To sum it up, in five minutes, we were greeted by some idiot in a gilded dress.

  “Your Highness, please allow me to escort you...”

  My uncle had been waiting for seventeen years straight, and now, the wait was over.

  ***

  We arrived just in time: Rudolph and Abigail were receiving petitioners. After spending just ten minutes in a crowded corridor and listening six times for the seneschal's shrieks, we strolled into the grand hall.

  Their Majesties sat on the throne, all splendid-looking, gold and jewels everywhere, while their servants wore embroidered doublets, and light shone out of the stained-glass windows. My first thought was it was all just for show…and the second one, and the third as well.

  And then I took a closer look at my relatives. My powers allow me to see a person’s soul, but there were none to be seen there.

  Rudolph. He seemed every bit a valiant golden-haired knight, even if an aged one. A real lion of a man, who still hadn’t lost his looks. Girls would swoon at the sight of him. Yet on the inside, he was not a man, just a slug wearing a crown. No will, no spirit, no spine, no guts—everything was gone, nothing was left. All he could do was sit on the throne, have feasts, and whore around—not a king, a nobody.

  Abigail. She was more than ten years younger than her husband and went out of her way to take care of herself. She had thick black hair, a rat-like face, even if a pretty one, a thin figure—but with all the necessary curves—and wore a magnificent blue dress the same color as her eyes. Inside, however, she was a venomous slut, like a parasitic ivy that attached itself to a person, draining them of their strength, and enveloping them in its deadly embrace—a sundew, a flytrap.

  Both stared at me with different expressions on their faces. Rudolph’s look was disgust mixed with apathy. He might have been trying to feign love, but for him, I was a bastard, posing no threat to his rule... He wishes.

  As for Abigail...oh, that one was much more dangerous. Even then, I saw wariness and malice in her eyes. And why didn’t she like me already? I hadn’t even said a word yet. I answered her stare with a look of complete innocence, which made her narrow her blue eyes in anger. I got to her.

  I bowed, putting just enough deference into that gesture to make it seem mocking.

  “My dear uncle, by your command, I, Alexander Leonard Radenor, have arrived at the capital.”

  “My boy!”

  On such an occasion, Rudolph even got off his backside. What a miracle. He came down, hugged me tightly... If I had really had brittle bones, I’d have fallen dead right there, with my shoulder girdle broken to pieces.

  “I am so happy to see you! You're the spitting image of my beloved little sister!”

  You’re lying through your teeth, though. Happy, yeah right. Your regret that your nephew didn’t die on the way here is written on your face. Don’t hold your breath, Uncle. You’ll sooner visit Argadon yourself, my aunt in hand.

  Outwardly, I was still all charm. The only thing I did was rub my shoulder after Uncle’s embrace, pretending that it hurt. Rudolph promptly gasped, remembering my ailment, and dragged me to the throne, loudly ordering servants to bring me a chair.

  I pointed at my people, and Uncle nodded and commanded his servants to arrange accommodations for them. Where exactly? Well, in the former chambers of Princess Michelle, of course! There weren’t any unoccupied rooms in the palace, as all had been taken by my friends and family. Meanwhile, Michelle’s rooms had been locked back when my grandfather was still alive with an instruction to leave them for his grandson. Even Rudolph hadn’t dared to break his order. Oh, Rudy, you could have been a real human...but you’ll look better as a corpse.

  A dandy footman escorted Henry and my retinue to their new lodgings, while I sat at my uncle’s side looking at the residents of the court, all of whom were introduced to me one after another.

  Prince Andre. The best description would be “a puny wretch.” At least his father was nice to look at—this one, it seemed, nature had undercooked. He had the same coloring, but not as bright; shorter, not as buff, and something else was missing, too. It was as if he was abandoned halfway, incomplete. He had a look of contempt about him.

  Princess Ruthina was accompanied by her husband. If with the parents, nature had taken a break, then with the children, it had probably fallen sound asleep. Ruthina was a thin blonde girl who resembled a moth and a rat at the same time. She had inherited her gaunt figure from her mother, and blond coloring from her father, but where Rudolph was all sunny and golden, she seemed washed-out and pale.

  Her husband, Duke Richard, matched her well enough. Despite being a bastard, Henry still looked every bit a noble. That guy, even if trueborn, could easily be mistaken for a commoner. His dumb face—I really wanted to call it a mug—couldn’t even be saved by the gilded doublet he was wearing. That said, looking at Ruthina, one could take pity on him; if I had such a nagging shrew at home, I would probably pull out all of her teeth and kill her with a log.

  Still, we observed all the formalities and paid respects to each other. Never mind the lack of smiles—maybe we had fallen prey to a toothache, all at once.

  Duke Chartreuse, Abigail’s father. He was a handsome man, even in his sixties. His daughter had evidently taken after him. But he was a thief, I saw it in his eye
s. The gallows groan for you, dirtbag!

  Marquis Chartreuse was the eldest son. He was not as handsome and had the look of a fraud about him. Wait a bit, that’s not the right word—a crook. He wasn’t clever enough to be a fraud, but just enough to steal whatever he could get his hands on.

  A few counts from the same pack: the queen’s middle brother, her second eldest brother, their heirs, wives, daughters with their husbands...

  Holy crap! No treasury in the world could sustain so many pilferers. On the other hand, go on, sweeties. Take as much as you want, hide it as well as you can. Sooner or later, I will get to you, and I will shake you down for every last copper. It would be even better for me if I didn’t have to execute as many families. Just the Chartreuses would be enough to equip three armies.

  I smiled sweetly at my relatives and continued looking at those around me. What can I say? A pack of dogs, mangy and rancid—sycophants and bootlickers. Throughout the reception, I didn’t notice anyone with a real personality. That court was no place for them.

  ***

  Late at night, Henry left his final instructions for Tom and me. We were to avoid needless confrontations, not kill whomever we wanted without thinking through all of the ramifications, not demonstrate all our talents, and not raise the dead wherever I wished.

  We were to take care of ourselves, too. I gave him a few of my mother’s trinkets as keepsakes. A small portrait of her which was left on the table—looks like Grandfather had come in here after she had left. A toy from her childhood.

  Henry still loved her, I saw that, and so I didn’t argue when he said that he would be leaving with the light of dawn. It would be better for him in Torrin.

  We went to bed after midnight. I woke before dawn. The hour of the necromancer. The best time for raising the dead and summoning demons. The dark hour, they call it. Tommy was snoring in the next room, while I tried to listen.