The burning throne, p.37
The Burning Throne, page 37
His cloak frays on the edge and Lexi might rip it, maybe steal his knife. Takes his body and shields it with his green cloak and lets the flames burn dimly to heal the damage she might do to him. Power flows through his body and his knife thumps with it, pulsing lie a heart. Going against his Queen never felt this nerve wracking, especially as how is now, unofficially, contracted into this.
She could do a thousand things to him, split his body in a million different ways, put his head on a stake and use his arms and legs as props. She could use him as a way to illustrate the consequences of defiance in her Kingdom, but if he gives her enough time to think about hurting him, then he might fail. Hesitation here is only an option if he wants to fail.
He could live without his knife and be content in the afterlife, but that’s not a reality he wants to see himself in. He is a commander and as such, he must get things done whilst trying to save his skin.
His worn–down hands feel cracked, and he looks at the battle wounds, the healed and healing scars. Blood and sweat decorates his body, mixing. All of it makes him feel like he needs to be bathed in Angelic light for a couple of days.
The world feels like it’s not going to drown him, but is waiting for the chance, feeling the guilt climb up his spine, eating away at him. At his soul.
The role of commander takes too much, that he’s been playing it for too long. But for now, it’s too risky to not play the game. To leave he needs to find a chance and take it, grasp it with both hands. The door still hasn’t been opened, the gold hiding in the shadows, so he can’t go straight through. He reaches into his pocket and feels the broken commander badge and the fake golden one on his breast and feels the rebellion thunder through his veins.
His breath burns through his chest. He walks down the halls, their cream carpets perfectly aligned with the walls, inscriptions in the wall telling him things that he doesn’t believe – BE GRACEFUL AND HEAL THE WORLD, HE IS OUR SAVOUR, ALL HAIL THE PROTECTOR – and he lets the voices wash over him, that this is a bad idea. He knows what his heart wants and it’s not this.
Ahead, burning candles greet him. The Throne rooms where Lexi awaits. He backs himself against the nearest wall and gains his breath and composure.
She hasn’t seen him yet. He can take as long as he needs.
‘Come, Durrius. We must talk.’
Anxiousness floods his veins, but he locks it away, adjusting his cloak. Now, he must face her, and he can’t run from it. Letting the light hit him, he walks through the halls into the vast Throne room, taking in how the shadows change him, make him sharper, more confident, better able to stand up to her and even better to give him the confidence to destroy others. Candles light his face and the Throne towers above him, Lexi glaring, and he is watching everything other than her – the gold laying around the place – and the riches and worlds beyond.
‘Good, Durrius.’ Lexi says, carefully choosing her words. ‘You shall bring Erica to me.’
He wants to run, but his eyes are transfixed on her figure. Her body is covered by a white sheet, folded together, and made softer and golden spirals swirl off her clothing, like she is a Goddess, and he is merely a mortal, waiting for a divine.
Lexi’s commanding stature towers on top of his, her eyes gleaming and her lips feel like they’re slowly revealing her fangs and she is going to kill him without touching his body, but just with her words.
Guards stand around her, waiting, their spears ready to kill and even more ready to obliterate him. They stare emotionless, grip shifting on their spears, tension burning in the air. The whole room holds its breath, waiting for him to make a move – a choice – something which solidifies his loyalty or lack of it.
‘If you fail, I’ll murder you.’
‘Yes. I’ll bring them here right away.’
One Hundred
Portals to New Worlds
O
rders from his Queen – he is a puppet on her strings – and nothing more, meaning he is permitted to go ahead with his plan. He should have stabbed her then and there, but there is no way he could fight all her guards. Their spears already scare him before coming into contact with them.
‘You’ve got a simple order. Get on with it.’
He stands up to her looming figure, confidence replacing the fear. He is quiet, but still, he says under his breath: ‘I want to do a few things first.’
Lexi’s eyes are on him, peering, trying to find a weakness she can exploit. ‘Is my Kingdom and its health not important to you, Commander?’
‘It is-’
‘But you are so foolish as if to think your wants come before that of the Kingdom. You will do as I say. Bring them here.’
‘I will, Queen. You can’t rush perfection.’
‘What perfection?’ she laughs. ‘You’re testing my patience, Durrius. My commanders in the War shall be better than you.’
‘This is my type of perfection; I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’
‘You know that any type of defiance shall result in death.’
‘I am aware.’
‘You are defying orders, Durrius.’
‘Am I?’ he asks. ‘I shall get into line.’
She taps her staff, satisfied. ‘I am glad. Very glad.’
I’m only committing small deviances, he thinks. Small defiance. Such small movements, over time, can cause so many different things to go wrong and he has control – something rare in this Kingdom – and he could send himself behind her Throne and slit her throat. Her blood would soak him and there are better ways to get revenge.
He calls forth spluttering sparks of Angelic energy and moulds them into a massive portal and some of the sparks veer off into unexpected directions, coming closer to Lexi than he would like. Lights wash over him and cast his large shadow on the back wall and finally, for the first time, he feels powerful. The lights almost blind him, sparks burning brighter than the sun, creating darker shadows on the back wall, mixing Lexi’s shadow with his. The portal cracks with false energy and warms his body up suddenly. It turns his cold blood hot with possibility, of adventure, and he is going somewhere where Lexi can’t adventure for her own reasons and he can wander around and complete his objective at his pace, finally. Of course, deadlines exist, and this wouldn’t work in reality. Through this portal, he has the opportunity to make something of himself for the short while he is there.
Dull pain starts in his chest, and the anxiety quickly builds. Anticipation. The world cracks, and the heat starts to get under his skin, the warmth suddenly gets too hot.
One Hundred and One
Entering into the Heart
D
emon realms have the sun as a constant fixture[****************************************************] and its always like the world is on fire, fitting, considering what Erica has told him about the realm and his few adventures here himself. By this point, Durrius should be an expert. He could have gone anywhere in the Kingdom, but the Heart will get his objective finished quickly and that is the most important thing. Although, there is merit in extending his visit, but once he completes his small plan then that won’t be an issue. He will have all the time in the world to explore.
Durrius raises his hood and starts to walk, grips his dagger closely. In the Kingdom, you can never be too careful.
Eyes are on him, as if the people here have taken notice that there is someone here to feed on. He remains calm, watching the Demons as their flames burn brightly, some creating knives and inching towards him, whilst others just turn and stare[††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††].
He tries to remain calm as the Demon’s eyes glow red and it is flashes or red, orange and black. This will be the least fun he’s had in a while.
One breath burns in his chest, and he slashes his knife into the Demon’s throat as they advance and smashes a hand into the Demon’s chest, blasting with light and forcing them back, the smell of burnt flesh burning in his nostrils. He repeats the process before they’ve got a reasonable hold on him, this can’t end like every other encounter did back in the Angel Empire. Durrius’ knives and light burn bright in their flames, but his light is brighter and will burn through their hearts. Stab. Slash. Blood in the back of his throat – most likely his own - as he hasn’t fought in this long, at this intensity - for a while. He steps back and does a dance with them, leaving their blood on the ground. He puts his knife back In his sheath and walks towards what might be the Throne room. That is the right place to find a royal he hopes.
One Hundred and TWO
Preparations
T
he draft he put out worked well, hundreds of blood–lusting, murderous, Demons stood up to protect their family, themselves, and the future of the Empire. Glad to see even though Lucifer’s dead, his people still have some loyalty to the crown. Nate didn’t think it would work.
Their fangs are ready to bite the Angels in half and snap their necks.
The situation staring him down, with the white teeth, bloodstained body and the threat of destruction They’ve got fangs and can bite down hard. The world might decide to create a monster that can rip every weapon away from him, force his magic away and rip everything he’s worked so hard for all over again.
He must prepare his people if a situation like this were to ever arise. So that when it does, they will know how to fight to the best of their ability. It is only, after all, a matter of time.
People could have disregarded his orders and the law and fought back against him and forced him to reconsider, even if the other monarchs would go against him. Even if troops were needed, he would have understood if no one signed up.
Hundreds of his men surround the Castle walls, pressed up against the stone walls, creating a parameter around it, protecting him – the heart of the Kingdom. The rising run lights their helmets in bright yellow.
Erica should be at the helm of this, not him. She is the one with the training with assassinating people. She is the one that should have taken the crown, even if he is the rightful heir. He had read a lot of battle tactics but was never trained – his Father’s diaries didn’t teach him that, only reinforced what he should do.
They are ready to die for him and he can command them to fight however he finds the best way in theory. Theory and practice, however, as he knows far too well, are two different things. He should be able to finish the job himself.
Wind howls in his ears and his soldiers talk amongst themselves make him feel less alone in this grand, but idiotic, crusade he’s having. He should have stood up for himself more, fought his corner more, but against experienced rulers, he stood no chance. They know best, and this will give Erica the revenge she’s craving – he’s already had his.
His troops fill the Castle and makes the room feel like it might burst. The windows struggle to let in enough light to outperform the shadows.
They are ready for one shout. One scream. One shout of command. One jump into action.
Nothing he could do to make them better. Give them more armour and tools, sure, but nothing can prepare them for the dangers of the Angels. Whilst he could have done more, he needs to start the War on the right foot. Erica, hopefully, will support him in that.
His soldiers sit around and eat his pre prepared food and he makes sure that they are all happy, assures them that there is plenty more and to ensure that his men have enough to sustain them through the fight. They also have enough water in the lakes and enough blood to keep them satisfied without resulting to eating each other.
‘Let us win this!’ his men yell. ‘We will be victorious! We are the Demon Soldiers!’
His soldiers are keeping their blades sharpened and his Smiths have set up their own camps to create blades. His men sharpen their weapons, and his Smiths also create them.
It is a process he hopes will last and win him the war. Their flames are greater than the Angels could hope to beat, and his flames particularly, can rip through Lexi’s Angels in a heartbeat.
He is not Lucifer. He will win. He is not weak. He does not have a child to protect. Yet.
Even though he’s been King for a little over eight months, he hopes this’ll be easier than the fear-filled nights and subordinance – rather disobedience – that he has last time around.
There was lots of his blood in those books. It took a while to dry, but he will be better than that. Leading people is still hard, even for an established Ruler. Experience is the best teacher, some would argue, but he needs to make the mistakes. Mistakes, in this situation, can kill and he can’t let them wound too many of his soldiers.
One Hundred and THREE
Declaring War
D
ark eyes and an equally blazing knife are the most important parts of Durrius and Erica wishes that she could do this herself.
If she kept the Lexi part up longer, then she could have. But that felt horrible. And she’s been done with feeling that way ever since she took it off. Plus, it wouldn’t work any more. People know now. She rules two domains and has multiple records of keeping-in-check-murdering[‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡]. Perfect for rulers. His shadow casts around the room. He pushes through the crowd, hood still up, yellow eyes gleaming.
The figure removes his hood.
Even if she hasn’t seen him much in person, she can see he’s changed – gotten bigger, harder to kill. His hood casts dark shadows and make his eyes glint with hatred and distaste. He’s the same old Durrius and she doesn’t know why he agreed. Lexi might be behind this, and he’ll lead them right to her.
‘He’s not here to be an...’ she stops herself. ‘Well I’m not too sure about that.’
‘I’m not here to fight you. I’m here to bring you to the Queen, just like Erica asked me too.’
He smiles, knowingly, lets the shadows shield him.
‘If you make one wrong move, Durrius, then all of these Soldiers will get a piece of your body.’
‘I agree,’ Durrius says. ‘She wants to see you both. Get down and ask your soldiers to clear a path so we can get on. I don’t have much time. Lexi’s preparing more troops as we speak.’
‘Coming? Otherwise I’ll go myself. I have a score to settle.’
‘Lexi has requested Nate come along, too. It’s customary for both Rulers to declare War.’
Her body language whispers relaxed. Still, it seems like there’s some tension in her shoulders and jaw, ebbing at her confident demeanour. Tracing her weapons, she sighs, takes a breath, and taps her foot on the ground, rhythmically.
Nate looks back at the broken room in front of him, and Erica follows his gaze, watching the room in its silence and gazes up to where she fought Lucifer. The memories of knives, blades, slashes, and the fight for her life, all come back to her. She touches her knives and looks towards Durrius – and his looming, stationary shadow – and takes a few steps towards him.
‘To enter Angelica, you’ll have to stand with me.’
Durrius raises his hand. Light sizzles and her eyes have to adjust to the light. It will get worse; she knows that much. Lexi wouldn’t have taught Durrius a spell that doesn’t cause someone harm.
Erica finds the nearest hand – Nate’s – and grabs it tightly, bracing herself for the bright lights. They come, pulsing like a strobe in the clubs they used to hear so much about at the Academy. She takes a breath and hopes that the world will welcome her into the Angel Kingdom again, but she doubts it. It might be a horrible, blood-filled mess, but still, she steels herself. Get too focused on it and she’s going to lose herself.
Light floods her body and its going to be a long way home filled with blades, knives and she must get her words as sharp as her weapons in order to live through the beating that Lexi will give her.
One Hundred and FOUR
Meeting The Queen
E
ven the air tastes fake, too pure like it’s hiding something. Everything towers above. The sun shines on the Castle, the golden spires reflecting the false innocence of the Castle. Five chiselled columns surrounded the entrance, reaching high up towards the centre of the Castle. Everything is white. In the centre, a fountain stands, wet cobbles outlining it. A wide, huge–winged female statue holds a staff, putting one hand on her masked face. The golden and shining tips of the wings and the corners of the mask sparkle in the soft sun, lighting the marble and the whole world in an orange glow. Guards and Angels with swords surround the outer perimeter of the Castle. Golden tips blaze with falsity and destruction.
Churches stretch into each corner, each golden rimmed and built with white stone. Engraved Angel heads sit in the walls.
He notices people everywhere, reading books, talking and walking around. This place has people talking about events and living. Not like his Kingdom. Maybe this is all for show? Maybe this is all fake...
Walking towards the Castle, the group takes in the marvellous architecture as a stone–faced and white–suited man awaits their orders. He stands, waiting, as if they were going to approach at any second and took their time.
‘Durrius, are these the people that our mighty Queen Lexi has asked for?’ He asks.
‘Yes.’
‘You have been authorized to enter.’
Smooth, white marble decorates the walls, with accents giving an outline. The candle acts as the centerpiece of the room, and furthermore, the world. Candles brightly light the room, golden flames leaping and bowing at her brilliance Bricks spike off with golden brackets, glass leading to a single point.
