Traitor to the King

by Clare SM Keating

  Damara pulled herself off the floor, glowered in the direction of this fool and closed her eyes tightly as she felt the rage building into her hands and mixing with the magic already flowing within her blood. She could not explain the fury and she did not want to, but without fear of anything anymore, she slapped her hands together with a thunderous crack before pulling them apart to reveal something like a lightning bolt of freezing, crackling white energy ready to attack. She then charged, something like the screech of a wild cat escaping her throat as she stretched the strange bolt up above her and then swung it straight at Leridan’s body. He turned, raised the blade to try and protect himself but there was a new sound, something like the splitting of a snowbank up in the mountains followed by a sharp barking note, as if someone had just screamed at the world to split in half. It had sung in Damara’s ears, not the sounds of the earth but some heavenly melody of justice as the bolt cleaved its way through Leridan’s body with the ease of a hot knife through butter. No blood fell or sprayed or even seemed to appear as the bolt disappeared, but Leridan was dead and as his body flopped over, Damara crashed forward onto her face.

  What had just happened?

  There was no time to question, finally the Arch-Demon produced the bellow it needed to alert all enemies to its strength and presence, it’s sound a mix of fire leaping up a chimney, a volcano exploding and the deep carnivorous rumble of a tiger all at once. The sound split the weakest stones on the walls, cracked glass and forced all men on the ramparts to howl back in terror as the Arch-Demon straightened itself and produced a great burning mace in the air above it, ready to hammer down the dam and take what it wanted!

  Virenheim appeared doomed for once in its long existence….

  Seventeen: The Traitor Surfaces

  “If in the jaws of an Archdemon I spend my last breath to defend my king… tell my wife not to worry about the laundry.”

  - Anonymous

  The reaction from the wall was utter panic from the youngsters; those who had never faced such a thing were flying back into the depths of the citadel, hurrying to the barracks or anywhere they thought they could hide away. Such cowardice would normally be treated with disownment or even decimation on any other attack, but none could be blamed for the way they reacted to the truest horror to reveal itself in their world. Even some seasoned soldiers were running for cover, but the bridge was being drawn up fast in heavy clunks with elves that had not managed to get inside the building trying to clamber up to the top. On these wooden edges they might get pulled onto the wall or dragged inside or to even fall inside, whilst others lost grip and fell to the depths and death. Once the bridge was up however, there came a bark for whatever remaining archers and magicians stood on the wall to fire at the beast and for pots of boiling oil and metal to be prepared to fall down the stone chutes to slow the monster should it stretch out.

  They could not hope to kill it outright, their best chance was to slow its growth down, keep it at almost full strength until the amount of demons in its service were exhausted and they could continue to crumble it downwards. Or just keep it out in the open until the spores cleared and the sun finally stabbed its way through. It was for this very reason the second dam was infused with so many magical traps and devices, so many narrow passages to stop a total invasion and so many archers and magicians. For the sake of their king and their people, the Deep Elves of Virenheim needed to do whatever they could to try and knock the beast down before it broken through the doors or found a way to cross over the wall into the courtyards. Those who had seen such monsters before were quite prepared and when the first stretching claw grasped for the wooden door as it was an inch from sealing off, Lord Chroniison did what he was born to do and gave out a shout.

  “Throw down the oil! Loose arrows… aim for the eyes and mouth to knock the creature off balance!” Chroniison snarled, his sudden aggression snapping all the panicked and trapped soldiers back to reality and to their duty in a flurry of panic. Suddenly the archers, like Jarl and his fellows were snapping arrows to their bows, adding a touch of magic to the tip and then releasing it out at the beast’s head as quickly as they could. When the arrows thudded into the creature’s eyes and face it gave a shrieking sound that rocked the building and urged the oil to be cast down the gruesome faces of the specially designed guttering out in a surprisingly accurate spray right onto the creature’s fleshy hand. It gave out a louder shriek, it’s hand setting alight quickly and the fire shooting up its body and burning away portions of flesh as the hideous creature writhed slowly in agony. Chroniison then turned to the magicians nearest him on the highest wall. “Mages… use the most aggressive magic you can to knocks chunks out of it for as long as you can manage. We need to start breaking it to bits. Aim for the head!”

  A sudden array of colourful glowing orbs went slamming into the creature’s body and suddenly the Hive Demons were rushing about their master in a contorting flurry of shadows. Their giant-eye forms began to be stretched into the absorbing tendrils that shot out of the monster’s body, revealing pulsating organs within the great beast. It sought to heal itself some more, to regain its powers but the orbs stabbed into it, making it moan and howl in agony, it’s body hardly still enough to snatch up all the creatures that were feeding it. The seeming agony of the creature and the lack of assistance from its fellows brought some of the fleeing soldiers back to the ramparts and back to fighting, suddenly thinking that they might just be able to take this monster down! It had been done before in years gone by, they had seen how it had taken a full day to finally exhaust the being of its companions before they had killed it. Only one weapon was mighty enough to do permanent damage to the creature and there was none left in Virenheim sufficient enough for the task.

  Down below those soldiers escaping the chaos on the walls were suddenly confronted by the Core and those in the city below fighting the secondary problem. The Archdemon might have been the most dangerous being in this battle, but if these orcs streaming in through the broken Rice Wall made it across the bridges to the main citadel and the king’s palace – they could not only kill the king but let the demon in! The Core were fighting ruthlessly and fast, but there was something unusual going on as a figure that should not have been anywhere near the situation was running up towards the Citadel. At first it might have been mistaken for one of the soldiers fleeing the chaos below or hoping to join the walls to fight, but when the Core members recognised the attire and the face they were concerned. For a start, this being should have left with the females a while ago and was certainly not the kind to fight. When it was spotted by one man near the stairs, he passed the message to Martum who bolted up the nearest tower passage to a special message room where he could reach the Mage Circle’s Guards with the information.

  His fingers scampered over the little pad of metal pins that represented numbers and letters in the Viren alphabet and quickly it pinched a message into the magic strand that connected each tower. Quite swiftly it was gathered at the other end by the Mage Circle’s Guards and they rushed to the top of the stairs and barked out to Damara and to Lord Zehna that High Priest Alagpo had just been seen running towards the demon with something large in his hands. It slapped them both in the face and Zehna stared down at the corpse of his rejected son in total despair.

  “You stupid boy… I wish you would have been more understanding… I wish you had not been so foul.” Zehna whimpered as he looked to the corpse on the floor and pulled the robe over the head to hide it from the view of anyone else. Damara looked out towards the Dam with concern before she looked at the courtyard behind the wall a little further up. She had an unpleasant feeling that the priest would emerge there and swiftly she gave Zehna a prod to the shoulder and he looked towards the courtyard too. “I can give you a teleportation spell… it can only be used once so if you go there, Little Benaga… you will not be able to come back behind the dam until the Arch-Demon is removed…”

  “I understand but that’s the most likely
place where Alagpo will be free to run with the stone and if he’s going to do what I think he’s going to do… that’s where we’ll need to be preparing for battle!” Damara stated with a grimace of dismay as she chewed at her fingers in anxiety as she pondered what would happen. She recalled that horrible creature out in the swamp that had attacked them when its identity had been revealed and what it had said about its master. The stone was going to go to the Arch-Demon and with the power in one stone there was no telling what it could do. If it could break through the magic shield with one stone, it could take the others and… “Just send a message to the Karayan to meet me up there… I think he can at least take on an Arch-Demon.”

  Indeed, the Karayan had finally decided that he could not remain at the King’s area when a more pressing matter was trying to break the magic shield above. He had heard the description of the Arch-Demon and though he was not quite sure how to fight such a thing, he had the thought in his body that he could indeed fight it. No sooner had he decided to head up the walls of the barracks, quite literally going inside and digging his claws into the stone and scrabbling, then Martum had managed to pass the message on. Accepting it and telling Martum to help Lord Benaga should she appear… which made Martum feel unsteady… the Karayan left. He stabbed his great hooking claws on his long fingers into the stone, they dove deep into the rock with a spray of fine powdery dust and then he hooked them up higher, lifted a foot and did the same with his feet. Martum’s eyes bulged in horror at the sight of the three clawed toes that were so reptilian, but the Karayan perched calmly against the wall and then took a deep breath. With great spider-like motions his body seemed to strain within the shroud and disappear up the wall of the spiralling staircase like a plague.

  Martum stared after him in terror, the other guards and Core members on hand looking just as petrified by the giant shroud of black that seemed to gallop up the walls past them, shrank down in terror. They all made notions upon their bodies to shield them from whatever dark powers against Nabuto were aiding their master. They may not think he was there to do things badly for them after returning a stone, but they certainly did not like what they had seen. All the same everyone on the barrack tower stayed motionless to allow the lord the easiest route to the roof top, staring in their mix of awe and disgust at the speed of the shrouded figure. Occasionally they witnessed the claws reaching out or the helmet pushing up against the great billowing motion, but they all tried to look away and all tried to beg Nabuto for assistance.

  The Karayan practically slithered up the wall before something seemed to tingle within him and the shroud rippled in a vibration. He understood they were sensing the part attached to Damara and wished to join her, so he froze just where the steps reached the surface and his body shifted into a more solid form. The shroud seemed to shrink back about his muscles as he stood on the stairs and then noisily thrust his hand straight through the stone. There was a sound like a small explosion, the rock shattering around his fist as if it had been struck by magic and yet it must have been, for his was unharmed as he pulled his hand out. Those on the stairs gave screams of terror and surprise to see him do such a thing, but he ignored them as his great citron eyes peered through the hole to focus upon the little shimmering wave of grey magic on the other side of the courtyard. The moment he saw Damara’s form he pulled himself away from the hole and then seemed to stare at it intently for a while until he seemed to lean forward and quite suddenly slipped through the tiny hole and straight out onto the surface of polished stone beyond, despite the wails for mercy from his guards within.

  “Karayan! Quick! The priest! Stop him!”

  The Karayan chose his time well, not only had the priest just emerged from the barrack building with the stone in his hand but Damara had emerged out of a watchtower on the other side, pointing directly at the scrabbling form of Alagpo. Were it not for the terrifying light radiating from the Archdemon, the glittering stone and the radiating glass roof of the King’s Tower then it would have been pitch black with spores sprinkling down like black snow from the sky. The Karayan looked towards Damara’s form, worried she was going to get hurt by the spores but she had manipulated the piece of shroud he’d given to smother her whole body like robes. Her fingers still pointed but they were glowing with an interesting kind of power and recalling the request, the Karayan charged towards the priest.

  “Karayan… the Rice Wall fell… do you know if Anouk is okay?” Damara squeaked out; though it was selfish to ask such a thing as they ran she noticed how the spores burnt to ash when they touched the shrouds and the imposing figure. The priest also seemed to be deflecting the spores too but the poison in the air was clearly melting at his dried, peeling skin and he looked in agony. Alagpo’s eyes were bleeding crimson fluid that was turning blue as it fell in droplets to the ground and Damara dodged these blobs. She wondered if it was more signs of a curse and yet she was nowhere closer to grabbing the escaping figure than the Karayan was as he barked out at her quite suddenly.

  “She’s alive… I’m quite sure she’s on her way here and we’re going to need the Klangschwert… both of them.” The Karayan snarled and then quite suddenly an unusual shadow seemed to lean over them in the courtyard. The shadow was of the Arch-Demon as it pulled its form away from the dam and turned towards these lone figures on the ground. With a strange sound like an intake of air grating against broken glass, the being seemed to pull its melting form away from the attacks on the main gate and was turning towards the section Alagpo was trembling towards. The change in direction was noticed by the archers still firing at the demon and then, amongst them Jarl. The archers were ducking and trying to keep close to the stone of the walls as their cloaks and clothes were singed by the heat radiating off the horrendous being as one of its great arms swung over them. The motion seemed to rip particles from the air, sucking and pulling the weakest souls and men on the wall up into it’s flesh as they howled and screamed, their bodies being pulled apart to resurface the great horror. Jarl pulled himself to the edge of the wall despite the fear of being swallowed up like the others, his sense of self-assurance keeping him steady as the fear in the air fed the monster. His eyes looked unto the direction of the creature and then he looked out at the courtyard in disbelief.

  He could see the familiar shadow of the Karayan rushing towards the fleeing form of what looked like High Priest Alagpo and another figure in a shroud chasing it too. His eyes were reddened and sore, watering from the agony of the demon’s heat and as he’d tried to figure the situation out, he’d noticed the eyes of the second shroud. His heart trembled in delight but also terror as he recognised the form of Damara and then his brain began to click to what was going on. The more he looked to Alagpo the more he was sure he could see a stone in the being’s hand and worse still, the figure was heading straight towards the Arch-Demon….

  “The priest! Alagpo has stolen the stone! He’s going to give it to the demon! Everyone aim at him!” The sudden yell startled everyone on the ramparts, forcing them to turn their heads to the scene and swear aloud in horror at the recognition. Amongst them Gilfony stared towards the form of his relative with a sinking sensation in his heart and fury upon his features. If Alagpo were cavorting with a demon, then the punishment for one in the religious orders included the execution of relatives to the tenth degree – everyone Gilfony cared about would be killed.

  As Gilfony lunged to Jarl’s side he stood beside his friend and knocked a vicious looking arrow that was crackling with his electric energy as it pointed towards the figure. If Gilfony was at least seen attacking his relative than he might be able to save his family’s honour – he might have to undergo torture at the hands of the police, but he had never spoken to a demon himself. Jarl aimed beside him, the pair of them ignoring the monsters still firing arrows up at them in the wake of their master or the sounds of battle coming from the deeper tunnels that reverberated around the clacking little communication devices. They aimed very carefully towards Alagpo’s
lolloping form and then both fired, only to just miss the scrabbling form. With swears they aimed again and continued to fire at him whilst the other archers still aimed their magical attacks towards the horrendous beasts. The air was still wheezing with the horrendous sounds of their enemies shrieking in joy at their master’s movements but also the high-pitched whistling of the arrows shooting into the great boiling beast and the little wheezing pops as the wooden shafts exploded on contact. The demon did not seem affected and Gilfony was snarling beside Jarl.

  “Jarl… if we don’t take the traitor out before he reaches the wall than there’s no telling what the monster will make him do. My grandfather used to be very good at opening the doorways in the rock…” Gilfony began, his body trembling even as he knocked another shaft to his bow and shot at the figure. Once more he seemed to miss, the arrow getting pulled towards the demon and landing just to the side of the priest. He was not failing because he did not want to take down his relative, his love and loyalty to Virenheim was greater than family blood… but the same power feeding the demon souls was pulling the arrows and spells towards it and away from the real target. “There’s no telling the added power he’s getting from that stone… oh Nabuto save us… why hasn’t the Karayan snatched him up yet?”