Demons and Kings (Hartland Book 2)

by J. B. Jenn

  Ogden sat down across from her. He met her eyes, hoping she could explain what was happening. “Let’s start with introductions. My name is Ogden Derry. I’m from Yul.”

  She stared at him for several moments. “You’re more than that. I know it.” Ogden raised a brow, making her sigh. “Fine. My name is Talatha Ward. I am Queen of Golden Valley.” She fell silent for a moment, shaking her head. “I don’t feel any of this is necessary. All I need to know is if you’re actually a Servant, like I think you are.”

  Ogden stared at her, uncertain if he could trust her. There was something odd happening here. He was certain of that much.

  “Why do you need to know if I’m a Servant or not?”

  Talatha laughed. “It doesn’t matter how you answer. I know you are. I saw the way you entered the palace. I saw your mount. There’s no mistaking who and what you are. There’s a presence about you.” She met his eyes again. “I assume you have come here because of my prayers for help.”

  “I’m sorry, Queen Talatha, I came here for other reasons. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I came to gather an army. Hartland is at war.”

  “What? No. That can’t be. How could anything else be more important?” Her eyes, widened with disbelief as he stared at her sourly. “They sent you here. You must help me.”

  Ogden met her eyes. “I’m guessing Golden Valley has no idea about the demons in the north? In Carthoda?” From the blank expression on her face, he knew they hadn’t. At least, she didn’t. “King Barend is making an army of demons from the people of the land. He’s expanding to the rest of Hartland. Without us uniting against him, he will win. Eventually the people here will become demons as well.”

  She burst out laughing. “Well, that’s just ridiculous!” She laughed for several more moments before reaching out and taking hold of his hand. “Let me tell you the reason you’re here, so you don’t have to make up such hilarious things. Demons? Come now. There is no place in Hartland for demons! God would never allow it. You could have at least tried. I wasn’t aware Servants had such a sense of humor!” Ogden met her gaze, frowning. She hesitated for a moment, tilting her side to the head. “Don’t tell me a man from Yul believes in the Old Gods! You are from a highly educated society. Surely you can tell fantasy from reality.”

  “If you believe in the Servants, surely you must believe in Them.”

  Talatha snorted. “Don’t you see? The Servants are of the new God, the real God. Servants serve the people, protect the people. There is no such thing as these Old Gods. They never existed. God, a singular God, made you the way you are, to serve His people.”

  Ogden sighed. “It doesn’t matter what I believe in, my lady. What I tell you is the truth. There are demons and both the Desert and Yul need help.”

  “No,” she said sharply, leaning forward. “Let me tell you the reason you are here. You came to answer my prayers of conceiving an heir for my husband, King Sabin. It’s been a few years now and I have been unable to become pregnant. I’m running out of time.”

  Ogden stared at her for several moments, blinking. She huffed out a sigh at him. He watched her throw herself back against the chair and fold her arms across her chest as if she were a mere child. Ogden took in a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

  “Queen Talatha, I don’t lie about the reason why I’m here. This is important. I need to speak with King Sabin about this matter. The Desert and Yul need help in fighting off Carthoda’s attacks. If they don’t receive help, it won’t be soon before Hartland falls to them. You don’t want to see the people you love turned into monsters do you?”

  “Demons?” she scoffed. “There are no such things as demons. Stop treating me like a child and tell me the real reason you’re here.”

  Ogden sighed heavily. “Please inform your husband I’m here to speak with him. I have nothing else to say to you.”

  Talatha raised one of her thick brows, insulted. She rose slowly, smoothing out her purple dress as she did so. She walked over to the door and turned to him with anger burning in her eyes.

  “Wait here.”

  She slammed the door shut behind her.

  Mercea

  Mercea circled Oytlin from the back of Grace a few times, wondering what the best tactic would be. The palace sat in the middle of the city. From the air, she could see how the city had grown around the palace. There were walls separating parts of the city and a wall enclosed the entire city.

  She knew King Flynn was a man who believed only in the new God. If she showed up on Grace as he was now, she would be hard pressed to convince him of anything. It was with a heavy heart she directed her mount to land outside of the wall and out of view.

  Once on the ground, she placed her hand on his muzzle and looked into his eyes. “Thank you. There’s just one more thing I need you to do.” Grace shook his enormous head at her. She smiled fondly. “I know. It isn’t fair to ask you to do this, but you’re going to have to. King Flynn doesn’t believe in the Gods or anything which has come from Them. He’s a firm believer in the false God. We can’t let him suspect any-thing yet. This has to go according to plan. We need his help, even if it means lying to him.”

  Grace snorted, but did as she asked. He appeared as a normal black stallion again. Mercea patted his muzzle once more before mounting him and riding up to the gates in an urgent manner. The guards raised their hands for her to stop. Mercea did as directed. A determined look sat in her golden eyes.

  “The city is closed to all visitors. Turn away.”

  Mercea gave a half-smile, knowing she could enter the town despite what they thought. She dismounted.

  “I’ve come to speak with King Flynn on behalf of King Maik. The Desert struggles to maintain its borders against Carthoda. It will only be a matter of time before Horizon faces the same issues.”

  The guard raised his brow at her brusque tone. “No one sees the king. The city is in lock down. Turn away.”

  “As of when?”

  “Does it matter? You aren’t allowed in either way.”

  Mercea’s golden eyes narrowed as she took a step back, sweeping her hands down her body. “Take a good, long look at me, and tell me what you see.”

  The man took his time in studying her. His eyes passed over her body a few times before he met her eyes. “I see a woman who wants attention.” He shook his head. “I suggest you take your leave before we detain you. We are under strict orders to imprison anyone who is overly insistent on getting in.”

  “Why is that? Why do you think the city is closed and you have those orders? Is it not an odd order?”

  “It isn’t my job to think if something is odd or not. My job is to enforce the orders which are given. That’s all. With the rumors out there of something having destroyed Kenokel, the orders don’t seem so odd to me.”

  “I must insist you tell your king I am here,” Mercea stated. “Once he discovers I was at the gate and you turned me away, he’ll be irate. I have a feeling he’s expecting me and those orders are for me. If you want, I can be insistent on entering,” she said, allowing her hand to rest on the hilt of her sword.

  The man looked over at the other soldier who merely shrugged. “Wait here.” The other soldier signaled another to go and inform the king. The man who’d been speaking to her stared sourly at her.

  “You may want to know who’s asking to see him,” she called after the man, watching him stop for a moment. “My name is Mercea Stoneshield.”

  Flynn

  “Your Majesty?” the hesitant call came through the door, muffled.

  Flynn glanced at it annoyed before turning his gaze back to De’Nae. The woman had barely left him alone, even after he had reluctantly agreed to help Carthoda.

  As he stared at her, taking in her beauty, he shook his head. No matter how pretty she appeared, she was ugly at heart. It marred her. All he could see was the ugliness, and he loathed her because of it. He wished there was a way this didn’t have to happen, but he couldn’t
allow his selfish brother to rule Horizon. Aull would run it into the ground.

  “Why do you stay here? The Servant hasn’t yet arrived.”

  He was especially irritated with the woman. She had given his soldiers orders which he had never sanctioned. When asked, all the guards swore it had come from him. It had been at that moment, he realized he wasn’t dealing with an ordinary wytch. She was capable of far more, and it frightened him.

  “Why continue to harass me? You have my word to help Carthoda.”

  “It’s simple. I don’t trust you to do what is necessary when she does arrive. Trust me, your Majesty, it will be soon.” She studied him for a few moments, wearing a thin smile. “You have too many doubts. Regardless whether you believe the Old Gods exist, there isn’t much you and your men can do against a Servant. Not unless they surround her and are willing to have at least a dozen of them die in the process of detaining her.”

  Flynn snarled at her this time. He started to say something but the guard at the door spoke again. “Your Majesty? There’s someone asking to see you.”

  “What?”

  The man opened the door further and bowed low. “There is a woman outside the gates, seeking your audience.”

  Flynn glanced over at De’Nae. He knew she was right not to trust him. Given the chance, he would turn her over to the woman, just to get out of this mess. He had never asked for any of this. Queen De’Nae had thundered into his life and had effectively ruined the peace within it. He hated her for it. He hated the position she had placed him in.

  “Who is this woman?” De’Nae asked.

  The guard looked toward him. Flynn nodded for him to answer. “Mercea Stoneshield.”

  From the way, De’Nae straightened her spine, he knew it was the woman they waited for. His heart sunk. He wanted to sprint to the gate and tell her to run. There had to be some way he could communicate with her, without De’Nae knowing he had. As he, once again, looked over at her, he watched a slow, sly smile part her red lips. Just the sight of her sickened Flynn. He wished there was another way.

  “I’ll deal with her.” She rose, gracefully. “I’ve been waiting for such a moment.”

  “No,” Flynn said. He looked to the guard. “Send her in,” he ordered in a moment of defiance.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I do. Whatever you’re planning to do, won’t be done out in the courtyard for everyone to watch. This will be quiet.”

  Trester

  The sun had fallen behind the horizon. He could barely see the scrawled letters, even in the bouncing light of the campfire. Overhead, the stars glittered. Sighing, Trester closed the book.

  From where he was, he watched the people who had survived the initial attack on Kenokel. As he watched them, his thoughts kept going back to what he had read a few nights ago and the dagger sitting in his boot.

  By the time Trester rose, most everyone was asleep. He walked further from the camp. Taking in a deep breath, he tried to steady his shaking hands. He grabbed the dagger from the top of his boot. He had to know if it was true.

  Demon blood? The thought still bothered him. How could anyone willingly mate with a demon? The thought, alone, repulsed him. He didn’t think it was a matter of being willing, but what if it had been on purpose. He couldn’t do anything to change it. He hated the fact of how much history was lost to them. He also knew if the rest of Hartland knew about demon blood being in wytches, it could change everything. It could start another war against wytches. Maybe it explained why the knowledge was lost.

  Taking in another deep breath, he cut open his palm. He ensured enough of his blood stayed on the dagger. As he sheathed the blade, he heard someone coming up behind him. Trester sighed. Of course, he hadn’t been alone. He was king now. He was never alone. Turning his head slightly, he saw a young man. It was the same young man who had spoken to him earlier.

  “What are you doing, your Majesty?” the young man asked, bowing slightly. “You shouldn’t stray so far from camp. It isn’t safe.”

  Trester smirked. “It’s none of your concern. I’m safe. I assure you if someone attacked, I could take care of it.” The man nodded, but remained where he was. Trester sighed, shaking his head. “What’s your name?”

  “Nealik, your Majesty.”

  “Well, Nealik, I think you’ve earned a position as one of my permanent guards. It seems you have taken the duty upon yourself anyway.”

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  Trester passed the man, heading back toward camp. The man said nothing but followed. At least he was quiet. By morning, he was certain some other man would replace Nealik, so he, too, could rest. Trester lay on the bedroll laying on the sandy plains. He wondered if he could sleep tonight without knowing. He was afraid to show anyone else the result. He wished he could trust someone.

  The Desert sun woke him. When he opened his eyes, some of the others were already heading toward the border, toward home.

  Trester rose and stretched, yawning. At least, there would be less people to see. He looked over to the young man to find Nealik still asleep. An older man, but not old, had replaced him sometime during the night. As Trester looked at him, he wanted to say he knew the man.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Henter, your Majesty.”

  Trester stared at the man. The name wasn’t familiar, but the face was. The man gave him an uneasy smile. “Did you serve my father in the same way you’re serving me?”

  “No, your Majesty.”

  Trester continued to study the man. “You might want to help me out, Henter. I know, I know you.”

  The man laughed easily. Even his laugh seemed familiar. “I was one of Jakom’s bodyguards.”

  It hit him. He was more than Jakom’s bodyguard. They had been good friends.

  Trester laughed cynically. “How did you survive the attack and my brother didn’t?” he demanded. “Shouldn’t you have been there to take the final blow? Isn’t a bodyguard supposed to do that? You failed my brother. You failed Cascade.”

  “There’s an explanation, if you care to hear it,” the man said coldly. Trester raised a brow at him. “Very well, your Majesty. Should I consider myself dismissed?”

  Trester didn’t know what to say. It was simple, this man had failed no matter what his explanation was. As he started away, something nagged at him, telling him he should hear the man’s story. He at least deserved to defend his honor. Jakom would have allowed him. Jakom would have heard anyone out before making a decision. He believed in giving people a chance. At least, what he remembered of the man.

  “What’s the story?”

  “He sent me to protect Kalom. He was being swarmed.” He fell silent, swallowing hard, fighting back a terrible memory. “I was too late to reach him. He died a horrible death trying to kill the monster. When I returned to Jakom, he, too, was already dead. It happened within seconds. The… The monster hit me, throwing me into a wall. I should have died as well. I have to believe for some reason, I was saved. It’s the only explanation I can think of.”

  He raised his shirt. Trester saw the long, jagged scar running from his right shoulder down across his stomach. It was angry red.

  There were tears in the man’s eyes. He nodded toward him and turned away. There was nothing he could say to make anything better. In fact, he may have made it worse. To take his mind off of Henter and what had happened, he pulled his dagger out of its protective cover.

  His mouth dropped at the sight of the half-eaten blade. Where the blood had touched, there was nothing left. He slammed the ruined dagger back into its cover. There had been minimal blood on the dagger, yet, hardly any of the blade remained.

  Trester started toward the border and the group of people ahead of him, but stopped. He grabbed his dagger once more and tore the bandage from his hand. Pulling open the cut he’d made last night, he allowed a few drops of blood to hit what remained of the blade. Almost immediately, there were two holes in it from the t
wo drops that hit it.

  “Your Majesty?” Henter asked from behind. His voice told him he had seen what had happened.

  Words seemed to stick in his throat. Trester dropped the dagger, blinking. His heart thundered in his ears. What did this mean? He had only expected a jagged blade at best, not one nearly eaten away.

  “Your Majesty? What was that? Why did your blood eat away your dagger? I’ve only ever seen demon blood do that.” The man stared at Trester with wide, terrified eyes. A shaking hand reached for his sword.

  Trester watched the man, wishing he could trust him like Jakom had. “I’m not a demon if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Then what was that? I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t either, Henter.” Trester ran a hand through his hair, taking in another deep breath. “It means wytches were created from demons and humans. It’s all it means. It means I have demon blood running through my veins, just as all other wytches do. I…” Trester sighed heavily. “Don’t tell anyone, yet. I beg you. Hartland is in a fragile enough state as it is. We don’t need to send more people into a panic.”

  Henter nodded, swallowing hard. “I understand.”

  “Good.”

  Hethera

  She had left Yul behind on her way to Fairvale, Drakal. King Zavad had been relieved she had decided to talk to the king. An entourage of men had accompanied her. Casman had trained them himself, though he had warned her, they were still green. In a real fight, the soldiers might not provide the protection she needed.

  She gave a soft smile at the way he had worried over her. The thought made her think of Ogden. Her heart ached to see her husband again, but she knew she wouldn’t see him for some time still.

  She had left behind Acen with her parents, unable to risk his life in this. As she departed, it felt as if her heart would break. She had never left her son for so long.

  She had no idea how King Adair would respond to her. Like Yul had, most of Drakal believed in the new God. It wasn’t until recently had Yul seen its errors. Drakal hadn’t had the opportunity to see such things. In a way, they were fortunate to not know of demons the way Yul did. In another way, she felt sorry they weren’t enlightened yet. The Old Gods were real. She needed to find a way to prove that to the king.