Ferral's Deathmarch Army

by Tod Langley

7

  Allisia’s Chance

  The demon had just left after checking in on her again. Allisia despised the foul monster even more when she appeared as the beautiful woman. Her smiles and charms were a facade that hid the ugly and violent demon lurking beneath the perfect skin. The demon had killed her father and brother. Allisia could not understand why the monster even bothered showing concern or taking care of her.

  Did Ferral plan out the demon’s actions as some perverse form of torture to make me lose my sanity?

  “Well,” she murmured, “it’s working.”

  Allisia no longer counted the days she had been a prisoner. She was still confined to the beautiful room, which now seemed to only hide evil in its shadows. As Ferral continued his pursuit for greater power in the dark arts, he often forgot about her. When Ferral did visit, he always brought the demon along. It seemed as if he wanted someone there to enjoy Allisia’s torment along with him. Ferral normally threatened to let his dead creatures loose on Allisia, but he had not forced her to play that game for over a week.

  Sometimes he would push her around or slap her; the first time Ferral hit Allisia she had cried out in shock. Ferral had liked that and hit her harder. Allisia quickly learned to show no emotion when he tried to humiliate her. Lately, however, Ferral had abandoned her altogether. She was left alone, except for the demon’s infrequent visits. Alone with her nightmares and feverish thoughts of what life was like before she was brought to Ferral.

  A week later, Allisia’s room was a mess. No one had come to clean it in a long time, and she was never allowed outside of it to wash or relieve herself. In fact, no one had come to check in on her at all, except to occasionally give her food. The demon was away, carrying out one of Ferral’s orders, and when the demon was gone and Ferral’s mind was focused on his experiments, no one thought of even her most basic needs.

  Allisia began to weaken, mentally as well as physically. The wine she was given reminded her of blood. And in every dark corner she imagined the remains of Ferral’s victims. She would stare from her bed, too afraid to move, wondering if a monster lurked in the corner or if she was just losing her mind.

  Allisia had endured much in the month that she had been held captive, the murder of her family, the destruction of her kingdom’s army. It all seemed as though Ferral’s schemes were working out just the way he wanted them to. No one could stop him. Not even Kristian seemed capable of stopping the mad sorcerer; her betrothed had eluded Ferral’s men for a long time, though.

  “I must be going crazy to put all of my hope in Kristian,” she said.

  But thinking of Kristian was one of the few things that made her feel better.

  “Even if Kristian escapes why would he come back here to challenge the sorcerer again?” she asked herself out loud.

  “After all, why would Kristian keep risking his life for me?” Allisia’s confused mind vaguely remembered that the two of them had argued bitterly when they first met.

  “There is little hope of us ever falling in love,” she tried to convince herself. There is no reason to cling to false hope.

  “But we talked again after that argument!” the other side of her mind insisted. The internal argument was the only diversion she could think of to keep her from falling into the darkness. Allisia had to have something to distract her from her suffering.

  “Kristian didn’t give up then, maybe he won’t give up now.” Fresh tears started falling down her dirty cheeks.

  “It was so long ago and I can’t remember everything he said to me.” Allisia stood and began pacing. She listed the facts out loud.

  “We argued by the fountain.”

  “Well, at least, you can remember that,” she mocked herself.

  “Kristian means well,” Allisia argued back, “but he always says the wrong thing. He’s quick to anger, letting his emotions run their course. Kristian lacks the qualities that I want most in a husband: humility, courtesy, kindness. That first conversation in the garden left the matter of our marriage unresolved.

  “You wanted nothing to do with him, but he seemed determined to start over and make your relationship better.” Allisia nodded, remembering.

  Just a day before the formal announcement of their marriage and the alliance between Erand and Duellr, she had seen him in the Fashion District.

  She had spied on Kristian for over an hour. Kristian tried on several different pieces of clothing. Nothing seemed to please him and he finally fell defeated onto a bench outside one tailor’s shop. Allisia saw the disappointment in his eyes and it moved her. Without thinking she approached him. From then on, things had become much more pleasant between them. After their last private talk together, she had come to understand Kristian the way no one else did. He certainly could not blame all of his actions on his upbringing, but Allisia had been able to see past his faults after their talks. Kristian had been trying so hard to interact with others, trying to figure out how to be a good prince, leader, friend, and betrothed all at the same time.

  “We’re by no means the perfect couple. Nothing like what I had always dreamed,” Allisia admitted.

  As her days in captivity marched on, Allisia thought more and more of Kristian. “He risked his life for me. He wasted no time in deciding to lead thousands to Ferral’s gates to rescue me, demanding my release,” she argued against herself in the latest heated conversation.

  Allisia smiled, remembering the one bright moment of that entire dark night. In the darkness, shivering in the harsh winter storm, she watched Kristian struggle to reach her, and her heart leapt out to him. She knew nothing good could happen that night, though. Allisia was next to the sorcerer, as he called upon the darkest evil imaginable. She watched as the remnants of Kristian’s army made one last stand on the hill overlooking the black city. It was not until much later, and after several episodes of hysteria, that she learned that Kristian still lived.

  “He’s still alive,” Allisia told herself constantly over the isolated days that followed.

  “He’s got to be dead by now,” another part of her mind insisted.

  “Ferral would have come in gloating about it if he had killed Kristian,” Allisia argued back.

  Allisia found herself smiling despite her dismal surroundings. “Oh, Kristian,” she moaned out loud, “if there was ever a time that I needed you to be thinking about me, it’s now.” She pulled her knees up to her chin as she sat on the elegant but dirty bed.

  She was so alone.

  Allisia pulled on her long, dark hair, twisting strands of it around as she thought of Kristian. In her mind, she pretended that they were the closest of friends. She daydreamed that Kristian was with her in the room to fight her constant boredom and fear. He sat in the chair next to the fireplace smiling at her. Kristian would start awkwardly, not knowing exactly what to say, afraid of hurting her feelings.

  As they continued to talk of their favorite things, he would lose himself in her and openly share his feelings. They giggled, poking fun at each other. Allisia smiled, sitting there alone on the bed, watching herself and Kristian on the far side of the room. Then Allisia’s smile faded, and she began to cry. She was losing her mind and any thought of hope.

  “God, please help me. Please help me.” Allisia would soon go mad if she did not find a way to cope with Ferral’s twisted games and the loneliness. She knew that she was failing and that she would have to take action soon or die. No one would save her; Allisia knew that already. She was on her own.

  A muffled grunt outside her door interrupted her daydreaming. Another, sharper sound quickly followed the first. It was the unmistakable sound of bones snapping.

  Allisia panicked.

  She grabbed Derout’s dagger and hid it behind her back.

  The door creaked open. A lone figure stood in the doorway. His head bent forward, eyes glowing yellow in the candlelight. The man smiled and stumbled into the room dragging a heavy burden.

  Ferral.
<
br />   In one hand he carried a bottle. In the other, Ferral had the foot of one of the guards she had frequently seen outside her door. Allisia muffled a cry when she saw the guard’s head. It was twisted completely around. Thin wisps of smoke curled up from the empty eye sockets.

  Ferral laughed in genuine pleasure, seeing Allisia’s expression. “You sssee … he moved too slowly when I commanded him to open the door. I chastised him, but … it did no good,” Ferral stammered, obviously drunk.

  “So I told him to … fall down to the floor and beg forgiveness. But again,” Ferral said, laughing, “he moved too slowly. So, I helped him.”

  “What do you want?” Allisia demanded, frightened.

  Ferral let go of the corpse and took a long drink from the bottle. “I have been drinking. Drinking and thinking. Thinking and drinking. And then drinking some more.”

  “What do you want,” Allisia repeated, already knowing what was on his mind. She could see it in his eyes. The demon was not with him, though, and that concerned her even more. Ferral had no one to keep him in check.

  But this might also be my chance, Allisia thought. She scurried off the bed to the farthest side of the room away from Ferral.

  “You know, Allisia, it has been a long time since poor Rebenna fell from the ramparts and I …”

  “You threw her down after you killed her!” Allisia shouted.

  Pausing to let her words sink into his muddled mind, Ferral stood up straighter. He rubbed his chin, his thoughts a blurred fog, and then smiled.

  “Yes, I did. And I enjoyed that … a little. I miss her often, though.” Ferral stumbled toward Allisia, stopping for a brief moment to play with one of the sheets on the bed, teasing her.

  “You know, the only reason I got rid of Rebenna was because I knew that she would be too jealous of the love we were going to share. She had to die because she could not have endured the sorrow.” Ferral placed both hands over his heart.

  “My love, my beautiful princess,” Ferral said with a sneer.

  Allisia showed Ferral the dagger, waving it in front of her. She backed herself into the corner, shaking her head in panic. Ferral grinned.

  “To Hell with waiting another month. I am, after all, the king!” With a speed that shocked Allisia, Ferral rushed forward.

  He smacked the dagger out of her hand and pinned her against the wall with his body. With one hand, he held her to the wall by the throat. With the other hand, Ferral pulled at her gown. His hand grabbed at her breasts, desperate and rough, forcing a scream out of her. Then Ferral’s hand moved lower. Allisia tried to twist her body sideways, pulling herself as far away from his hand as possible. She could not let this happen; she had sworn not to let this happen.

  Fear and repulsion swelled up within her, she could smell his breath. Allisia got a hand free and scratched at his face with her fingernails. Ferral screamed in pain and fury. His grasp on her throat loosened for a moment, and she pushed him away. She tried to run for the door, but he caught her by the dress. Pulling back sharply, Ferral threw her to the floor, tearing the clothes from Allisia’s shoulder and raking the skin on her back.

  “When I’m done playing with your body, you’ll wish you were dead, but I’ll still keep you alive to do my bidding … in bed. You will scream for mercy, but no one will hear you, ever!”

  Allisia lay in a heap on the floor, sobbing. She was frantic. As she tried to push herself off the cold floor she cut her hand on something sharp. Derout’s dagger.

  Ferral rushed her again pulling her up by one arm. He never saw her grab the blade or the anger in her eyes as she screamed a curse at him. He dropped to the floor, groaning, the blade buried deep in his left side under the arm. The pain was severe causing him to moan weakly, while trying to breathe.

  He looked up at Allisia in shock. Ferral tried to laugh, but the pain was too intense. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

  “Demon,” he whispered. “Demon, help me.”

  Allisia stood mute for a moment with no idea of what had happened or what she should do now. Still crying, she finally turned to run away, but the doorway was blocked. The demon, in her fine red gown and blood red cloak, stood there waiting patiently. Allisia screamed in panic and began sobbing, certain she would die now.

  The woman removed her hood and looked at Allisia. She gave what looked like a reassuring smile and beckoned for Allisia to come closer. As if in a trance, Allisia’s body moved closer and closer to the demon. Allisia tried to resist with every fiber of her being but failed. The woman’s deep blue eyes engulfed her, and she could do nothing to break the spell.

  Allisia stood there, motionless for a moment, before the demon raised her large cloak and hid both of them within its folds. Blackness surrounded them and in an instant they were gone.

  Allisia shivered as she stared at the crashing waves of the Utwan Sea. A chill spray hit her face. Weakness and fear suffused her body as she wondered what the demon would do next. The demon stared at Allisia’s back. They had just stepped out of the darkness onto the shoreline outside the black walls of Ferral’s citadel. An uneasy silence hung between them.

  Confusion and anger warred within Allisia. Isn’t this the same evil monster that killed my father and brother? Didn’t she help destroy my people and drive the Erandians from their homes in terror? Why is the demon helping me?

  Allisia found the strength to turn and face her. “What are you going to do to me?”

  The demon stepped up to her, the wind whipping its hood away. “I do what I must. No mortal, neither you nor Ferral, can understand my actions or motives.” The demon lifted its head to feel the strong winter wind on her face. Her golden hair flew out behind her head, and the demon smiled. “I’m a prisoner just like you, Allisia. I am trapped by my own transgressions. I am a tool for evil and am forced to watch the suffering I have created. I am forced to feel every pain, every sorrow for all eternity.” The demon laughed out loud, the sound like a beautiful, yet sad song.

  The laughter ended sharply as the demon turned cold, hard eyes back to Allisia. “What did I do to earn this punishment? Was I ever half as bad as that mad man?” The demon threw her hands into the air, reaching for the heavens. “Oh God, what did I do to have to bear this torment? I do what I am commanded because to do otherwise would mean obliteration. I do not like it … any of it, but you do nothing to intervene for me. How much longer must I go on like this? Tell me!”

  The demon pleaded for perhaps a minute more, but no one answered. She looked back to Allisia, but the princess could only offer her a wide-eyed stare. Allisia had no idea what the demon was screaming about.

  “I have been the Servant of the Dark One for centuries. Forced to destroy beauty and create chaos for the purposes of Evil. I cannot remember how I first became what I am. I remember the great pain and torture I endured from refusing other sorcerer’s commands. I remember how I became more grotesque and loathsome with each task that I chose to do and how my heart turned blacker with each deed. I have forgotten much of my humanity, nearly everything. Yet, sometimes, I remember being alive and the beauty that surrounded me. I remember …”

  She stopped talking and stared out beyond the dark sea. The expression on her face reminded Allisia of someone remembering a lost lover. The demon remained silent, head bent low in deep grief, but no tears would come. The scene moved Allisia so much that she almost forgot who the other woman was. She started toward the demon reaching out a hand in comfort.

  “Do not feel remorse for me,” the demon said with renewed resolve, lifting her head again to stare at Allisia. “I have committed the most gruesome acts and I will do so again. The monster’s desire to kill must be constantly satiated. I will kill again. I will keep killing until Oblivion comes to wipe us all away. In fact, plans are already in motion. The west will soon see destruction like they have not seen in a thousand years.” The demon grasped Allisia’s hand, a delicate, gentle gesture contrary to ev
erything Allisia knew about the monster, and guided the princess away from the shore.

  “This will be the last time we speak, Princess Allisia. The one chance I have to help you. You have dealt Ferral a crippling blow. He is unconscious and near death. As soon as you leave, I must go back and heal him. My master is not finished with the mad king, and I must help him. And yet, neither of them recognizes that there is another player: someone with infinite power … if He chooses to help.” She released the girl’s hand and pointed to a dim light shining in the distance to the north. “It is a boat. A small one, not as far away as it looks. A kind, old man waits there for a passenger. He will take you to a place of safety.”

  Distrust crept back into Allisia’s mind. “How do I know that I can trust you? How do I know that this isn’t just another twisted game to drive me crazy?”

  The demon wheeled on the girl, snarling. “Do you mock me? I have served Hell for so long that I do not remember why I am there to begin with. I know that I no longer want to do their bidding, and I will do anything I can to break my ties to them and this world. Anything.”

  Allisia took a step back, frightened and shaking her head. “This is your one chance to escape. Ferral is becoming more powerful, and when he recovers, he will scour the kingdom to find you. He may send me out to bring you back, and I will have to obey. If you do not get far enough away, Ferral will find you. Then you will wish that you had not questioned my help.” The demon seemed to glimmer. Red energy, the color of glowing embers, reflected off of her gown and hair. As swift as it appeared it faded, along with her wrath.

  After a moment of silence, the demon said, “Go, Allisia. The one who waits for you will take care of you.” The demon-woman frowned. “Pray to God that he saves you and keeps you well.”

  With that final farewell, the demon concealed herself within her long red cloak and vanished. Allisia had seen the other woman’s eyes just before she disappeared. A deep sorrow had replaced the anger in them; there was a sadness there that Allisia had not seen before and would not forget.

  A strong gust of wind brought the princess back to herself and her situation. She was alone again, standing on snow-covered rocks with only her torn dress to protect her from the harsh weather. Hugging her arms tight about her body, Allisia turned north and headed for the faint light.