by Rex Jameson
***
Sariel, still dressed in his executioner’s mask and uniform, walked over to his uncle and laughed. “Did you see that?”
Batarel nodded, but Kimah was less impressed.
“The King is down. Do something, you fools!”
Two guards, who had apparently stayed behind, noisily exited the palace and placed themselves between Eranos and the crowd.
“I have been ordered by the Council to only interfere here if magic is used,” Batarel said. “But I can send a message to Rabishu, if you like.”
“I didn’t get paid to babysit a king,” Sariel said.
Kimah ran to Eranos. “Someone get a med kit!”
Sariel’s purple wings danced behind him as he launched himself forward and came close enough to Kimah to breathe on his neck through his thin black mask.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kimah said. “Someone get me a doctor, now!”
Sariel walked onto the main platform and ran his hands over his father and mother’s bodies. This was a poor death. They deserved better. A demon boy hugged Ostat’s head close to his chest, and Sariel motioned for him to relinquish it.
“I’ll take care of it,” the boy promised.
Sariel removed his mask. “That’s my father you are holding there.”
“You should get out of here, sir,” a man beside the boy said. “I’m an undertaker. I’ll take care of their burial.”
“What’s your name?”
“Harold.”
“And your son?”
“Joshua.”
“That’s a good name,” Sariel said. He looked back to the boy. “I want my mother and father properly buried in an unmarked grave. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Harold promised.
“Far away from here. And there should be a real prayer.”
“Yes, sir. To whom should the prayer be directed?”
“Whoever will listen,” Sariel said. “If I find my father or mother hanging from these walls, I’ll be back. And I’ll be looking for you. You know what I am right?”
Harold nodded.
“Don’t make me come looking for you, Harold. No one survives me looking for them.”
“I understand, sir.”
Sariel threw the mask to the ground and helped Harold push the carts and pillories down the ramp. The crowd parted before them, and Kimah hailed them—apparently he hadn’t heard any of the conversation.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “That’s royal property.”
“You’re damn right, it is!” Sariel wheeled around and extended his wings menacingly.
Kimah bolted toward the palace gates, and Sariel laughed as he shot two wings at the demon’s legs. He lifted the adviser and dangled him from far above.
“Not so fast, porky.”
“Let me go, you son of a bitch!”
“Not a good start to the conversation, Kimah. Her body isn’t even cold yet.” Sariel turned toward the crowd. “Harold! I don’t hear those cart wheels creaking!”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
The air grew rapidly colder. A lesser wizard might not have recognized it for what it was, but Sariel raised a shield just as a massive fireball rained down on him.
“Self defense, Uncle.”
“Get on with it, or get the hell out of here,” Batarel said.
“Fine, fine. I’m on it.”
“Kill him!” Kimah pleaded, pointing toward Eranos. “He’s the one you want.”
“I’m not that kind of assassin,” Sariel said. “I prefer live prey.”
“He’s still alive. I checked his pulse.”
“Yeah, but he’s not able to fight back. No sport in it. You, on the other hand, are more of a challenge. You just proved it with that fireball.”
Sariel pulled the fat little demon closer, and Kimah released another fireball at him.
“Leave me alone!”
“Get on with it, or get the hell out of here,” Batarel repeated.
“I’m on it.”
Sariel gave a hard yank on his wings while simultaneously summoning two of his zinanbar blades. They effortlessly ripped through Kimah’s portly belly and spilled the contents across the central platform, where they added to the gore of the beheadings.
Kimah stumbled and groped around the slab, trying to replace his entrails. Sariel raised his hands to the shocked crowd.
“You wanted blood, yeah?”
Several managed to nod.
“Well, my brother took our new King’s left hand earlier.” Sariel grabbed Kimah from behind and put a blade to his throat. “And now I’m taking his right.”
A quick slash and Kimah fell to the hard, unyielding rock. The textures and colors changed as blood spread across the surfaces.
Sariel backed away from Kimah. He began to walk toward the King, and the guards struck defensive poses. Sariel giggled at the nervous way their eyes moved about.
“It's alright,” Sariel said. “I'm Council.”
He used two of his wings to scoop Eranos up and bring him to the platform. He marvelled at the way the guards gawked at each other instead of stopping him.
“When I agreed to leave you to my brother,” he said as leaned his head back and cursed his brother for leaving his task undone. “I never imagined killing you would be quite so easy.”
“Wakey, wakey,” Sariel said as he magically pushed with his mind.
Eranos sputtered and moaned as he regained consciousness. “My arm …”
“You’re right, Your Highness,” Sariel said. “You are definitely going to need to be armed. As a member of the Council, I feel it is my duty to serve you in this regard. I’ll go get your guards.”
Sariel apparated, and Eranos dropped unceremoniously to the hard, bloody granite top. But soon, he wasn’t alone. All around him, wizards were apparating in.
