LIGHTNOVELONLINE Book 2 Chapter 15: The Demon Lord
At first glance, the Demon Lord didn’t look much different from any of the other born demons. Not much taller, his flesh a dark green, his eyes seeming to glow red even from here. His head was adorned with a crown of three horns and he didn’t even have wings or claws.
However, his armor was a dark shimmering purple and his very presence was that of a ruler. Every movement he made seemed to draw the attention and his steps in the mud, while not very loud at all, were the only thing that Joan could hear.
“Gather the wounded, ready another circle!” he yelled before gesturing towards the dying demon. “Dispose of it. We’ll send more werewolves.”
Joan couldn’t move, all she could do was stare. The greatest enemy she had ever known, the only thing to compare with the Inferno God. Yet, here he was. Right in front of her. Did he know she was here? Did he know that all he had to do was look up towards their hiding spot, crouched down on the outskirts of the camp, and he’d see some of his most dangerous enemies?
If he did, he made no notice of it. There were two others with him, though she couldn’t make them out nearly as well. Maybe if they--
The Demon Lord held out his right hand and an orb of fire formed. He sent it up into the heavens and, after a moment, it expanded, creating a ceiling of fire overhead that stopped the rain and illuminated the camp.
“Did he just, no, that’s impossible,” Bauteut whispered. Joan could feel the other girl shaking, though she didn’t blame her.
Joan couldn’t stop shaking, either. This glimpse of the Demon Lord’s power revealed more than she wanted to believe. His power over fire was far stronger than she’d hoped it could be at this stage and it showed just how close the Inferno God was now. How much longer did she possibly have? If they didn’t destroy the heart, what would happen? They had to find the chosen now, at any co--
Impossible. Joan’s heart pounded so hard that she was certain the Demon Lord could hear it. Illuminated by the flames, she could see the two who walked on either side of him.
The first was a figure who’s body was entirely covered in strange, shimmering armor. The second, though she wished she was seeing things wrong, was who drew her focus. There was no way she could be wrong. The Chosen of the Crown, Korgron.
Joan let out a startled gasp as suddenly memories flooded her mind. Terrible, awful memories. Not because of what they were. But because it felt like her brain was being torn apart. She barely turned around in time and buried her face into Bauteut’s chest and screamed, barely muffling it.
She could hear Bauteut trying to say something, but she didn’t know what it was. All she knew was that it felt like her brain was being ripped apart by each memory. Memories of fighting demons and monsters, memories of fighting alongside Korgron, memories of the Demon Lord battles. All of them washed over her at once, but they were different this time. It had been a little painful at times, but nothing like this.
Something was wrong. Something was so very, very wrong.
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The Hero knelt down by his father, the tears streaming down his face. They’d never even had a chance to say goodbye. He lightly nudged his father, hoping that it would all be a sick, twisted joke. That his father would sit up and pull the arrows out and say it would take more than that to kill him. That some of their bodyguards would come and fix everything.
But they weren’t. The ground was littered with the bodies of the bandits who had attacked them. They’d been outnumbered, it had all happened in an instant. He didn’t know why he’d taken up his father’s sword. But the terrible, horrible men had killed their guards in an instant before slaughtering his father. When they’d come closer, instinct had taken over. He’d drawn the sword and he’d charged them and he’d fought. Though he’d been cut and wounded, more of the blood on his body was theirs rather than his.
But now he was alone, though he could hear the heavy steps of someone else coming. Another one of is guards? Maybe. He didn’t care. Now, more than ever, all he wanted was for his dad to wake up and--
Then nothing but pain. Everything spun around, images flashed in his mind, disjointed, strange images of a twinkling, dark blade. Reality itself seemed to spin around him, as if everything was being combined and then undone, only to be rebound together like some kind of strange, horrific tapestry.
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Joan let out a gasp before her eyes opened and she tried to sit up, but her body refused. Everything about her ached. Her feet, her back, her legs, everything burned or hurt in one way or another. She tried to figure out what it was that she had dreamed about, but the memories slipped away, quickly drowned out by the largest pain of them all, her throbbing head. Worse, she was so exhausted she couldn’t even move. The world was bouncing around her as well.
“Drink this,” a voice said. Something was pushed to her lips and she swallowed without complaint. She hoped it would relieve some of the torment.
Slowly she became more aware of the world around her. It was still night. She wasn’t laying down, she was being carried. The trees around them had strange leaves that seemed to shimmer in the light.
The light was coming from a small orb that hovered overhead. A howl tore through the air, making her more alert and aware of the surroundings than she would have thought possible. They were running. Searle was carrying her. Bauteut was besides him. But they both looked exhausted. “What happened?”
“If you have a trick to get us out of here, you’d best use it,” Bauteut said. “You know how to contact the fae? We’re here. But we do not have much time,” she said, the fear evident on her voice. “Questions can wait until after.”
“But what--” Joan started to speak, but once more she was cut off by a howl. They were in the Silverleaf Woods. The Changeling Patriarch was here as well. The realization that they were going to die if they stayed here cut through the exhaustion like a knife. “We need to get out of here, they’ll--”
“We’d love to but we don’t have much choice, now do we?” Bauteut asked. “After you screamed like that, this was really the only place we COULD go!”
“I screamed?” Joan asked.
“Something’s coming!” Searle said before he, less than gracefully, dropped her on the ground. She didn’t even get a chance to object before suddenly his shield was out and over them. Something clanged against the shield and he shoved it back and away.
But there would be more on the way. Joan remembered this terrible fight. It started with a few monsters, but more of them would come. They had nearly overrun the Hero and Hardwin a dozen times in the first hour. But there was nobody here who could stand to watch Searle’s back. She could barely even move and Bauteut was likely almost as exhausted as she was. Even if they weren’t, she doubted the pair could hold out against a single one of the more powerful monsters, let alone kill it. Searle would be on his own.
They had to escape now. Despite her body’s protests, she rolled to her hands and knees and made her way to the nearest tree.
“Joan, what are you doing?” Bauteut asked.
“Shut up, let me work!” Joan screamed. She pulled out her sword a few inches before jamming her hand down against the blade, cutting deep. She focused on the pain and then thrust her hand against the tree, coating the bark in a little bit of blood before reciting the incantation.
“By sacrifice of blood I offer my life as wager.
By sacrifice of pain I offer my spirit in gamble.
By sacrifice of travel I offer my time in chance.
I challenge thee, those gamemasters beyond all.
I challenge thee, those who bond by word and magic.
I challenge thee, those who can turn dirt to precious gem and gold to dust.”
A moment later the blood on the tree seemed to expand out, growing into a dark, red circle in front of her. A portal. “It’s here, let’s go!” Joan yelled before she pushed herself in, not waiting to hear them object.
Fortunately, the others followed a moment later. Bauteut first, stepping in and, unfortunately, tripping over and landing on Joan. To make matters worse, Searle came in with his back to them and did the same, landing on both of them. He was only just fully out when the portal closed behind him.
But they were here. They were alive. Bruised, cut, exhausted and agonized, but alive. “Get off me,” Joan said softly. She wanted to sleep for a month. She felt Searle pulling off her and giving a light grunt, followed by Bauteut. She tried to sit up as well, but she only made it half an inch before her body gave out and she just collapsed.
All of the adrenaline in her body seemed to have disappeared at once. All she felt was aching muscles, a throbbing head and exhaustion. So tired she couldn’t even lift her head. She tried to roll over, but she couldn’t. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep. But there was still so much work to do, so many challenges to face. She couldn’t sleep, not now, not yet.
“We need to go,” Joan said before trying to sit up again. “Got to find the fae, need to--” She made it a full inch this time, only to crash back down to the dirt a second later, face down and exhausted.
“Are we safe?” Bauteut asked. “Can they get us in here?”
“No,” Joan said softly. “Not with the fae, either. Need find… need find…” Joan tried to formulate the words, but none of them could come. There was more she had to do, but she didn’t know what it was. All she wanted was to sleep. To just close her eyes and drift off. There was something else that she had to do, but she didn’t know what. Wasn’t there? Wasn’t there something important? She had to do it. She had to fix things. She had to fix everything.
Why couldn’t she?
The darkness finally overwhelmed her and her eyes closed, refusing to open no matter how hard she tried. Her exhaustion would no longer allow itself to be denied and, try as she might, she could no longer fight it.
