We spent around two hours talking things through, and I climbed into the saddle once again.
I was monstrously sleepy and my rear end demanded rest, but whatever! Half-demons can endure a lot. Especially when it comes to saving their own skin.
***
By the next night, I was in the camp once again. Tom had covered for me as well as he could, but Mikael had started to worry anyway. Thankfully, there was water in the tent. I poured some on myself, changed clothes, and came out.
Where was I? Yep, I went to check the carts that had lagged behind, find out if they had lost anything or bartered for drinks. Was it unworthy of a prince? Maybe, but at least I would be sure of everything. During wartime, supplies are everything.
Troop deployment? I defer it to you. How about we put heavy infantry in the center, cavalry on the left, the ground there is nice, and the contingency force on the right? There’s a forest there, they could hide there. Offense? No way. If the enemy wants to come to us, let them. We’ll wait. Fine, we can advance on them, but later. I’ll rest a bit and then let’s go. When? Well, next morning, or better yet, evening. I barely brought the cart here...
We didn’t march out in the morning either. My fragile physique, delicate constitution, and tender being protested that, especially around the...rear part of my body. There, the protests were especially vocal.
In the evening, we got a message that Darius’ army was approaching us, and quite fast, too. Mikael had to agree with me. No need to make people run. Finding another convenient spot wasn’t guaranteed. And thus, we decided to wait.
***
Darius turned out to be cunning. When his army was six hours’ travel from us, he commanded it to set up camp. Why not, really? The people were tired, exhausted, why throw them into battle? It was noon, so Darius still had time to attack.
I grew tired two hours into the waiting game, declared to Mikael that I wasn’t willing to keep my troops on their toes, and ordered them to rest, at least in shifts.
Mikael called me a stupid boy, and we had a huge fight. Still, my people got their rest, while the Tevarrians were standing combat-ready.
Moreover, Mikael chose a very convenient location—for a necromancer, that is. We weren’t far from a village, which meant there was a graveyard—my perennial backup, if worse came to worst. Only...will I have enough strength left?
It wasn’t that close, after all. And it was sacred ground, and I had to reach it from there. I had to make the dead hear my call...
But that would be such a sight! The graveyard was right behind the cavalry, and horses hated the dead.
But...am I a necromancer or what? From here, I could feel them. Reaching them required more power. Where would I take it if not on the battlefield.
What tools would I need?
A ritual dagger would suffice. Obsidian took its place in my belt, as for the rest...
I’ll make do.
I also had to send a messenger to Darius. I knew what we were supposed to do!
***
In the evening, Mikael also ordered his soldiers to rest, swearing like a trooper. Naturally, his army wasn’t pleased. Go on, try to spend a whole day standing up, fully armed, no food or drinks, while waiting for the enemy, and then hear your commander say that you would have to repeat it the next day!
He might have been the king, but Mikael still got a real verbal dressing-down.
I didn’t, however. My people were much calmer and retired to their tents. As for me, I left my tent without telling anyone, even Tommy, and quickly walked to the place where the battle was supposed to take place, right on the field.
I didn’t have enough power inside of me; I would have to borrow it. How exactly, you may ask? Channeling.
I had a suitable artifact just for that, we had created it with Rene. Martha’s work was simpler. She could raise the dead or lay them to rest, cast a hex or a charm. Rene preferred a more intricate style. Artifacts, talismans, channeling your power into something or borrowing it... If you didn’t want to get caught by the sainted, you’d have to become an expert.
And thus, on the future battlefield, I buried a human bone with elaborate engraving. I had dug it out and engraved it myself, by the way! It had belonged to a man who died in battle. There weren’t any in Torrin, so I had to find the time during my first trip beyond the county’s borders.
Anyway, the ground blocked death magic, but it could easily channel blood magic! So that was my plan: I would send death magic, via the blood shed on the ground to the warrior’s bone in that very same ground, and then, to the necromancer—me. I had personally engraved on that bone the runes of death, life, transformation, strength, distance...and gained the power to reach the dead even from the command post. Although, that would look quite unusual.
Then I had to make sure that nobody who saw me cast a necromantic spell remained alive. I had been planning on it anyway.
We had to utterly defeat the Tevarrian army and then invade their country. We would occupy the coast and a part of the mountains. We would also do well to organize a rebellion to keep Mikael’s son busy, but that was a pie in the sky.
I checked the arrangements once again. Everything was fine. The bone was close to the surface and waiting in the wings, and the graveyard was waiting as well.
I returned to the tent. I needed to get some sleep, at least two hours of it. The fun started at dawn.
Darius had arrayed his troops even before daybreak and launched an attack on us. He wasn’t able to catch Mikael off guard, he had a huge spy network, so our infantry marched out to meet Darius. The first arrows whistled past their ears, and as soon as blood was spilled...
It didn’t happen right away, far from that. As the arrows were launched, the Riolonian infantry parted to make way for the heavy cavalry, which attempted to crush the shield wall, and the horses neighed frantically, while the light cavalry and the reserve waited for their turn.
And then, the blood touched the bone, and I felt it awaken.
Mikael was fully occupied with the battle, and his retinue was watching it as well. All of my troops were in the field, nobody had risked staying with me—except for Tom—or disobeying me after Chartreuse’s death. There, they had a chance to survive. But next to me... I would have hung them myself, immediately.
What’s a battlefield to a necromancer? A power source. On a battlefield, death is a welcome guest. Everything reeks of it. Black mist fills the air from all directions, blocking the sunlight, forbidding the dawn from setting in...
And the power flew toward me. I breathed it in, absorbed it with every fiber of my being, faded into it...
When I opened my eyes, the world in front of me was different. People were withered copies of their true selves, grey shadows. But the dying ones flashed with bright colors. Death meant tremendous power. The energy of death, which was flowing out onto the battlefield right that instant, all came to me, and I cast my magic.
I summon you...
And they came.
Summoning demonic creatures requires a lot of power. Not the demons themselves, no, they are far too smart and cunning to take the bait. But those beings... With them, it was easier, so I managed just fine. I opened the vortices. I had selected the places in advance.
The first spot was in the center of Mikael’s light infantry. Fortunately, there was no reason for our troops to be there. Actually, Uncle had given me the heavy cavalry, which was fighting right at that moment, and infantry, the cheapskate that he was.
Anyway, there were more important things to think about. My infantry was launching an attack, while Mikael had left his own as the reserve. I hadn’t protested, no need.
And now, a pit was opening right at the spot where that reserve had been deployed. What did it look like? I remember it as if it was still happening right before my eyes. As a half-demon, that’s my gift and my curse. The earth started shaking under the feet of the dumbfounded soldiers. Some of them fell down, while others stared blankly, frig
htened, until...
The ground cracked and burst, as if a coal-black fissure appeared in the earth. It was seething with heat, and people bolted away, knocking each other down and stomping on their neighbors.
And then, from the crack, it crawled out: a long tentacle, dark red—the color of caked blood, with suction cups and barbs. And the worst thing was that it wasn’t alone. A real avalanche of tentacles erupted from the fissure. They were crippling everyone in their way, grabbing them, pulling them down...
I had considered fully summoning krakens into our world, but then had changed my mind to simply half-opening them a door, just enough for them to reach the people, but not enough to get out. For what I needed, that was sufficient.
The first pocket opened in the reserve; the second, next to the main attack direction, where Mikael’s elite troops were deployed. The third...
Welcome, guys!
I tripped Tom, and together, we rolled down the hill, and right on the spot where we had been standing, they emerged.
I had invited devourers to feed, and they answered my call. Demonic spawn never ignored such invitations. By the way, the pit on the hill was the smallest, so that none of the creatures could get to us after finishing off the entire enemy command.
The hill resounded with screams of fear and pain, but I didn’t care anymore. I looked around the battlefield. The Riolonians had stopped fighting, as had my troops. But the Tevarrians...
Nobody was left at the locations where the two pits had appeared. The people were running away, scared and dismayed, dropping their weapons, crushing the fallen, collapsing on the ground—and not even noticing it.
Great.
The Tevarrians had no cavalry anymore. Actually, two thirds of the Tevarrian army had been wiped out. My men had gotten their share as well, even if not as much. But I had no choice. I had tried to be as precise as possible.
And the best thing was, all those emanations of pain, fear, terror, death, were still coming to me, as if I were right at the center of a vortex, and that was more than enough.
I focused for a split second, and one of the pits closed with an unhappy squelch. The tentacles hastily retracted, but one didn’t make it and remained on the ground, squirming like a snake cut in two by a shovel, and about as dangerous as that snake. I would have to take care of it later; no need to throw away valuable ingredients. Or should I gift it to the Church?
The second pit started folding in on itself as well.
“Alex!”
Tom saved my life, pushing me away from a blow. Those creatures weren’t as dumb as they seemed. The devourers knew who had summoned them, and had no desire to leave. To remain in our world, green and full of people, the food for their fangs and claws, full of power—wasn’t that a demon’s dream?
While I was busy with the second pit, the tentacles from the third one got to us. Tom pushed me aside...and took the brunt of the blow.
He tumbled along the ground and stopped motionless, lying like a broken doll.
“NOOOOOO!”
I didn’t even realize at first that it was me who had cried out. Was he dead? No, his soul wasn’t flying away! And even if it was, I would get it back! I was a necromancer, dammit!
Rage and desperation flashed inside me, and my other half got the upper hand. Instead of banishing the devourers with my necromantic power, I immolated them with a stream of scorching flames.
It didn’t really matter anymore, though. The second pit closed up with a moist slurp, and I burned the third one.
Inside me, blazing fire reigned. I was one with it, its center, its soul, its life, and its fury. The tentacle tried to reach me again but jerked away, unable to pass through the flaming mantle. I threw my fire forward. It rolled up in a whirlwind and rushed toward the gaping fissure, rapidly incinerating the tentacles in its way.
Painful? Serves you right! Is that enough for you, you beast, huh! Did you want blood? Well, get ready to choke on your own!
As I burned the tentacles, I felt sadistic pleasure, all the more so because I was powering my fire magic with the energy of death. As long as there were people dying on the field, I could sustain the fire indefinitely. The whirlwind was dancing, singing its fiery song, consuming everything, turning it to ashes. How much hotter was my fire compared to normal? I don’t know, but I suspect it was many times as much. Pain, hate, and anger are the fuel that can burn anything, from your own life to an entire kingdom.
And finally, the devourer gave in. The tentacles returned to their home plane, leaving our world alone. For the people, however, it looked different. They simply vanished, falling underground, and an overwhelming stillness occupied the battlefield.
For a few more seconds, the flaming whirlwind continued spinning, searing the exit. Nothing would grow on that field for at least five centuries, until the wind brought new soil to cover the glassy rocky pulp. My anger had melted the earth, turning it into volcanic glass.
Yet I cooled down the second I saw him. “Tommy!”
My friend was lying not far from me. His body was broken, but...no blood?
I didn’t give a damn about anything anymore. The war, Tevarr, Riolon, blast it all! All of you aren’t worth a single hair on my friend’s head! My brother; Tom had long since become my favorite little brother. To save his life, I would feed anybody to demons!
No blood. What about a heartbeat? I tore off his doublet and pressed my ear to his chest.
Gods, I hadn’t felt that happy even when I raised my first undead. Tommy’s heart was thumping, even if unsteadily. He was alive.
And I won’t let him die!
Who can stave off death if not a necromancer?
A healer!
I raised my head.
Damn it! DAMN IT!!!
Nobody was fighting. Everyone was standing and staring at me in awe. From the looks of it, I had revealed myself, big time. Whatever.
“Healer!” I yelled, straining my voice. “Hurry, he can still be saved!”
From somewhere, a man in a blue healer’s cape ran out.
Thank Argadon!
“Please let me see, m’lord.”
I moved over, then seized the healer by the collar.
“If he dies, you die. If he survives, I’ll give you anything.”
In a split second, my hands were gone from his blue cloak. I didn’t even understand what magic that was.
“Get out of the way when I’m doing my job!”
In case you think I hit that healer or even cursed at him...I didn’t. I backed away quietly. Professionals are to be respected.
“Your Highness!”
A man broke out of the army ranks.
“Colonel Tibre?”
The man nodded, then bowed a little.
“Your Highness...”
“Withdraw immediately,” I ordered with a sigh. “Raise the flag, invite the Riolonians to parley.”
“P-parley?!”
“Do you want to continue fighting, Tibre? After all of this?”
I pointed at the battlefield in a sweeping gesture.
He didn’t want to. His face told it all—right then, all he wanted was to get as far away from there as possible.
I waved at him wearily.
“I take full responsibility. Go on, chop-chop!”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
And he darted off.
Exhausted, I sat down on a nearby rock. I felt completely drained, which was true. I was a skilled necromancer, but this had been my first time using fire magic with such intensity. If my mother had had even a fifth of such talent, Rudolph deserved having his legs pulled off! To ruin such a powerful mage, and for nothing! That power could create and extinguish entire volcanos with the snap of a finger.
Or is that just my impression? I will have to make calculations: summon a devourer, burn him, torture him... That will help me find out exactly how much power should be used. But that would have to wait. Nothing mattered unless Tommy survived.
***
After those events, the Riolonians wanted to continue the war about as much as we did. And so, we sat down to talk: me, Darius... Nobody else had survived. Not even a crown remained from Mikael. No surprises there. I had released enough of my power to burn even his bones to ash and then incinerate the ash as well, even if that was a pretty tricky thing in general. There were two Tevarrian generals left.
The talks took place in the view of the entire army. Why? Nobody had wanted to set up camp here, bunk down...
As a matter of fact, devourers tend to exude certain emanations, and they are particularly persistent, like cat pee in your boots. The stink would linger long after everything had dried out, and no washing, err, cleaning, would eradicate those emanations from the area. You could try and force yourself to remain in such a place, of course, but it would only end up in your nightmares, heart pains, or worse. And I would definitely discourage you from sleeping without a ward circle.
So staying there was out of the question. We would just talk and then get out of there. Even I felt ill at ease.
Darius was the first to speak up. “Your Highness, I’m glad that you’re here...”
“Your Majesty,” I replied, “I’m happy to have crossed swords with such a worthy adversary.”
“Yes, but the cause of war still remains a question to me,” Darius shook his head in such a sincere manner that I would never have suspected him of acting.
“The assassination of my cousin, Prince Andre.”
The Prince of Riolon considered my words, then pulled out a dagger and slashed his finger, drawing blood. One drop, two drops...
The dagger pierced the ground between us.
“I swear on my honor, my blood, and my life that Riolon is not to blame for the tragedy which struck Radenor.”
Half-Demon's Revenge Page 30
