by Edison G. S.
Edison G. S.
© Copyright 2016 by Edison G.S. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. All the characters, places, and situations are fictional and not related to the reality or other fictional works.
MAIN CHARACTERS
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
Prologue
She walked up the street, her pace rushed and her heart beating faster. As she stepped on some minute dirt rocks, the cracking sound spread throughout the empty arteries of the city of Bregonia. The sun was hiding already and she tried to get home as soon as possible. The dry air of the desert pushed her back, making her swallow some sand, but her pace was still strong. I am being silly, she thought, if they were following me, they would have killed me by now.
Finally, she reached her neighborhood; what once was powerful and rich was now a poor town with families struggling to carry on with their lives. The small, crumbling, wood and stone houses were randomly aligned; the streets empty, dark, and eerie. Goose bumps permeated the back of her neck. As she expected, everyone turned in early just as they had been doing for over a month.
The raids had been occurring often in the city; other cities had not been attacked as much, but they all knew their turn would come sooner or later. She kept her pace, while fantasizing how safe her life would be if she lived in Lera, the most protected city, and home of the king. But luck and wishing would not get her there; only the rich had the privilege of being protected.
As she continued to walk the streets of her home, she noticed blood spilled on the ground as if someone had fallen dead right there where she stood. She observed her surroundings carefully, anxiety sweeping over her thoughts. Had there been an attack today? Her strides lengthened before becoming an all-out sprint. I need to get home.
Tears streaked down her young, pale cheeks. Maybe it was something else; no, it had to be blood She wanted to convince herself that it was spilled wine, but she knew the drink was a luxury for kings that the people in the Desert were not granted to enjoy. Besides, the characteristic smell of iron and the deep red shade of blood was something well known for the low-born. They had to deal with raids on a daily basis; blood was always left behind as a reminder. But the blood she had seen was still fresh and wet. They are nearby.
She wished things were different. If only the king cared to give them enough protection as he did for those in Lera, she could return home without fear of losing her life. She damned the inn owner who made her stay late at her job, but she could not afford to lose it. How would I feed my kids? Her husband had been killed in the raids and her children were dependent solely on her.
“Late for a lady to be outside, eh, miss?” a tall, slender figure appeared from the shadows.
She turned brusquely to find the demonic silver eyes staring at her. “Acacious, protect me,” she prayed as she fell to her knees.
“About that…your god cannot protect you from us,” his voice teased with the accent of the old tongue. A sudden smiled settled on his face, his elongated fangs fully visible.
More figures appeared from out of the shadows. She was just a block away from her children, but it now seemed miles away. She wondered if she would see the smiling faces of her babies again. Neighbors looked through windows with tears in their eyes. They had uselessly blown the candles out hours before sunset. It was the only action the poor could partake in; hiding in the dark in hopes the demons would not abduct them in their cyclic raids.
When the raids started in the city, the lucky ones headed south as soon as they could, but the unfortunate ones that could not afford the trip were trapped in the town hoping the demons would eventually get bored of the town and leave, . Every night, prayers were heard in whispers around the neighborhood. Some hoped Acacious would protect them since their king had left them behind. Some were more realistic and just went to sleep. If it was their time to go, they would much rather go in the silence and calmness of their sleep.
This night, some ran desperately, letting panic be the master of their bodies. But no matter what they did, the demons had come to raid the neighborhood once again. They would take whoever they wanted—the ones who pray, the ones who hide, the ones who run—all equal.
Once the demons ate enough, they would leave, sometimes taking prisoners, sometimes just by themselves. The ones that lived were lucky not to be chosen, but so many wished it were they instead of their loved ones.
For this poor woman, the demons left her dead on the ground and her children, who ran outside crying, were fiddled with before becoming snacks, their fresh, young blood much appreciated by the bloodsucking monsters. The demons devoured more and left, this time without a victim destined to being kept in the dungeons, as described in the books left for humanity by the elders fortunate to escape the demon’s enclosures.
“Damn you hell’s creatures,” was the general agreement. “And damn the king,” some had whispered in secrecy, “for he is the one who is supposed to protect us!”
Andreas
He always had a grin tattooed on his face whenever Marie invited him to bathe with her. “The kids are awake,” he answered, but she shut him down with a warm kiss. “They will hear us,” he tried to dissuade her, but she denied his words, trapping them within her wet mouth, tying them up with her tongue. Her hands tangled in the red forest of his long hair; his auburn beard scraped her face as he passionately kissed her, enveloping her in his arms.
“You are my everything,” he said softly. “If I lost you, I would much rather die.”
“Do not say any more my love.” She kissed him again, but the rambunctious noise in the next room made her back away from him. She looked down with a sigh and just walked away toward the bathroom, while Andreas exhaled with impatience.
“All right you two—stop it right away,” he declared as he entered the room of his elder son, Rolando.
Rolando looked at his father with annoyed eyes, “Father, he came to my room looking for his toys.” With a jerky walk, he moved through the room, the cracking sound of the wooden floor interfered with his muttering. “I am a man
now, Father. How does he dare to accuse me of stealing his toys?” he stated with a dignified voice and stature.
“They are not where I left them,” the younger boy squealed in a high-pitched voice, stamping his foot.
“That does not mean your brother took them Aaron,” Andreas said with the authority that his role as Sub-Commander demanded.
The immature boy sighed, annoyed by his father. “Well, my toys are missing and he always plays tricks on me,” he stammered, giving a disdainful look to his brother.
“Aaron,” Andreas began, kneeling to reach the boy’s stature in an attempt to comfort his young son, “your brother did things like that in the past, but you must see him for what he is now. He is no longer here to play tricks on you. He is now a man and his role is to protect you. The child your brother was once, who hid your toys, is no longer the same person you see now in this room. Now Rolando trains with my troops every day. He is helping me to chase demons so you can grow up without risks.”
The boy looked at his older brother with deep, hollow eyes and a quivering chin. No longer able to withhold his tears, he sobbed and shouted, “I do not want him to be killed!”
“That will not happen,” Rolando said, putting his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “I work with the best troops. We are at no risk.”
Andreas put his massive hands on his children’s heads, “Get to sleep already. It is getting late. And nobody is going to die.” He disheveled their red locks. Rolando had the same shade of red as Andreas and the same sad brown eyes, but Aaron had taken his mother’s clear-blue eyes and curly, ginger-colored hair. Darcellene was beautiful; her skin was a shade paler than Andreas’, a tone that both of their kids inherited.
The boys were a constant reminder of the tragedy that destroyed the family. For a moment, Andreas was back again to the day Darcellene was taken by the demons, a tragic memory he and the boys shared, but refused to mention. With all his power, he was not able to protect her or save her.
Andreas left the room trying to ignore his memories. Aaron ran past him to his own room while Rolando went to bed. In the next room, ten-year old Jeremiah sat in silence; he never cared to socialize with anyone except Andreas, his brother. That night Andreas did not stop by to wish him good night, though he put his ear to the door. As always, the boy lived in reticence, not wanting to talk at all—ever. Andreas sighed, wishing he could do something to persuade him to break his silence. The poor boy had not uttered a single word to anyone after his parents were taken by the demons. Eventually, he started showing affection only to his brother and Andreas gladly made him feel as family, though he coveted the day he could make Jeremiah see everyone else as his own family as well.
***
When he returned to his bedroom, Andreas saw that Marie had turned in to bed. But when Andreas kissed her naked back, she feigned a profound dream.
“How I wish you could get along. You are my wife and they are my children. What do I do to make you like one another?” he questioned out loud as he sat on the warm bed of feathers, shaking his head.
Marie sat up next to him, hugging his rugged body. “My love, rest assured there is not conflict going on between your children and me,” she talked with her polished words.
“It is almost palpable. None of you will admit it, but I am certain there is not a speck of fondness between any of you.” He stood up, aware the conflict was related to Darcellene, but he was not ready to talk about her again. His thoughts were instinctively redirected to other matters, “I have done everything, but without the king’s support, my intentions are as worthless as a grain of salt in the Royal Waters.”
“My love, you are not the king,” Marie took the opportunity to change the topic, “you must understand that once and for all,” she moved toward him.
His amber eyes fixed on the cold wind wafting outside their window. He felt her arms around his chest and her ample breasts on his back, “You are doing all you can, but you are just the Sub-Commander of the Frozen Lands. There is nothing you can do other than keeping up with your fight against the demons.” She started massaging his temple softly.“The Ice Lord knows how you would change the world if you were King, or at least Commander. I wish that was the case, but we must move on with the fact that you are not.” She kissed his back softly, “The Ice Lord knows what is just and probably someday in the future he will give you the blessing of serving the realm in a bigger purpose, one like justice.”
He turned and looked into her eyes. Her tawny-colored eyes were just as his, incomparable to the clear blue of Darcellene’s, but he loved Marie dearly. His hands combed her ashen hair. The red hair was a common trait in the Frozen Land, but Marie’s characteristics resembled her ancestors from the Forest; her brown hair was very unique in the entire city.
Andreas kissed her lips tenderly and pushed her softly to the bed while he climbed toward her; they once again melded into one another. Her younger body felt firm on his and it took her less exertion to complete their love act.
Later that night he had an obscure dream in which Darcellene was taken by the demons just as they had on a cold night four years ago. In his dream, a shadow figure and his army of demons took Darcellene, Andreas’ parents, his friends, and a lot of villagers away with them. Andreas ran after the faceless shadow. He imagined him sometimes as a man or an animalistic creature, but always someone, or something, different with the same dark essence. He visualized slaying the beast with his stake out of pure retaliation for what was taken from him. At the end of his dream, he imagined walking toward Marie to spend their lives together, but she was ripped away from him by another demon. Andreas shot up from his bed gasping for air and sweating though the cold wind entered overnight and the room was chilly.
***
The morning brought a new day wrapped in icy winds and wet snowflakes, like every other day. Andreas walked through the rough streets of the city of Tenkla, observing the inhabitants. Street merchants sold beluga and seal meat or expensive bear; however, the animals were diminishing and the costs rose too much making the meat unsellable; the wretched-smelling meat laid there fooling no one. People walked around wrapped in thick layers of wool for warmth, their sad faces lifting only to greet Andreas.
He entered the building that held the royal office and walked past the guards. Inside were many chambers where meetings were held, storage rooms with old rusty weapons, and dungeons encompassing the area below. Before entering one of the large chambers, he commanded a young soldier, “Please bring the unit Generals.”
“Yes, Sub-Commander,” the man said with a smile while walking away.
The grateful smiles of his soldiers always made Andreas return the gesture. He was certain they shared a loyal bond, just like a family. Ten thousand men they were and each one had exchanged a smile with him at some point.
A large group of men entered the chamber; the space was large enough for all of them to stand at a comfortable distance. They stood loyal, looking at him solemnly. Their faith in their leader filled the room and pushed away all the negativity of the current circumstances—famine, death, raids, and an unsupportive king was all left unspoken.
“We need to discuss new strategies,” Andreas started while moving to the front.
“Lord Sub-Commander, witnesses near the white plains stated demons are nearby and I believe it is best to get rid of them before we implement a new plan,” one of the men said.
“Very well, Sir Bentos. I was not aware of this. Please gather four divisions. Send your group of men and the other three groups accompanied by their respective general.”
“Very well, then I will start gathering them immediately.”
The spirit of unity was unmistakable. They swore to defeat Kazar and his demons even if it meant their life. They did it for their families, for the deaths they witnessed, and for those brave warriors that fought a generation before and shared the same last name and brave legacy.
Even though the faith in their Sub-Commander was strong, the
men had a hard time believing in anything else. The rough times annihilated their faith in the Ice Lord and their king, a fact Andreas knew very well. How will I spread my faith to men that have nothing left? He pondered often. He gave few instructions to the men and assigned some changes in the divisions they commanded. After few minutes of talking, they left the chamber to carry on his orders. It had taken many years for him to gather a team of men capable of carrying out his commands to others and it broke his heart to see their loyalty was not well paid.
The meeting finished and Andreas went to his personal chamber where a large plaque greeted him from the wall, reminding him of his responsibilities. He gave it a quick stare. Andreas Akio... Sub-Commander of the Frozen Land. He remembered when Commander Winterton appointed him to be Sub-Commander of the Frozen Land ten years ago; he happily traveled all the way to the east, to the city of Lera, where the king resided. Many honors were poured over him, but his new position only brought disappointment. For the first few years, he frequently communicated with the king and received support in the form of weapons, clothes, and food; however, not long after the king began to neglect his responsibility and Andreas and his men were mostly left to their own accords.
As Andreas recalled his appointment to Sub-Commander, a young soldier entered the chamber with news. “We have new supplies Sub-Commander,” the man said with sparkling eyes.
Andreas joined the happiness, “Great, I will be out in a minute,” he said quickly while nodding enthusiastically. He left the room and quickly went to receive the new shipment in the coast, few minutes away from the building.
Tenkla was surrounded by water along the eastern coast where ships came to deliver some provisions. The Forest territory had been sending food as an act of compassion for a while. Tenkla received ships sometimes, but the island of Marli received much more being right above the Forest of Dragons, separated only by the very trifling Cold Sea. .
