Chapter 29
PAYBACK
Most of the magical lanterns that usually flooded the royal residence with light were now hanging broken from the walls. Now only a few shone, casting shadows as they feebly penetrated the purveying darkness.
Devon and his troops were flagging after a long, stressful night of liberation and combat. He reached down and took up the twelve-inch, white rod with which the fairy guard had just poked him. The effect, as soon as it had touched his skin, was alarming. His nerves had all fired at once, and his muscles spasmed, trying to force him to his knees. Unfortunately for the fairy, the pain was merely a passing annoyance to him. The wand was probably a slaver’s toy that the fairies had weaponised, but he tucked it in his belt, just in case. He’d told his troops to grab as many of the wands as they could and to use them against the enemy if they got the chance. See how they liked it. While some of the fairies seemed intent on taking lives, others looked as if they were just going through the motions under duress. He would prefer to find out if any of them had lives that might be salvaged rather than wasted. People often behaved differently when not driven by a tyrant.
They had spent over an hour clearing out the ground floor and had freed over five hundred slaves forced into hard labour within the palace.
Everyone looked on in disgust at the sheer opulence that surrounded them in every hall or corridor. Devon couldn’t argue with their displeasure. He felt it too. The wealth invested in these ornaments and objet d’art could feed and clothe thousands. He had decided to send most of it into the mana-forge for recycling. After that, he would be able to create valuable items for the city from the materials. He had banned his troops from taking anything. Instead, he’d asked Mitsey’s Chaos Squad, who had completed their initial tasks, to go through the place, hoovering up everything. He was also considering creating a museum. Even if it was uncomfortable for them, people needed to remember their darker times.
They climbed the marble stairs and despatched almost all soldiers in a small squad of fairy guards. Two had surrendered and found themselves tied up with all the other captives, sitting in the richly decorated reception hall by the double front doors. A few more small groups of guards met them and regretted it, causing Devon to wonder why the queen was sending them out in such small numbers. In the end, they had killed over fifty fairies and captured twenty-nine. Devon noted that all the enemies so far had been male. He knew female orcs and ogres existed, fairies too, but where could they all be hiding?
Nerves tingled through him as he felt the moment he’d been anticipating approaching. It was time to get this done and move on.
Finally, Izzy brought them to the throne room. All four guards on the door surrendered and were marched to the hall with the others. Devon had expected these guards to fight to the death for their queen, but that hadn’t happened. He remembered something Fate had said about never trusting fairies. There was quite a sizeable number of enemies tied up in the hall. Was that the trick? How was that a trick? Could they be cursed to explode as Djinn had been? Just to be safe, he sent his dark warriors back to the entrance and told them and the troops he had already stationed there to strip every one of the guards naked, then tie them up again. No armour made them vulnerable, and they wouldn’t last long in a fight.
This was it. This was the moment Devon had been anticipating with increasing fervour. He stood in front of the double doors and reinforced his emotions. The queen’s mind trickery couldn’t be allowed to influence him as it had done last time. The fairy was a specialist in illusion and mind control, and he had no defence against that.
Devon snorted.
Lorn and Jinx grabbed the handles to the double doors and looked back expectantly at Devon. Jet, Amber and Fern flanked him with Izzy and Gwen next to them. He nodded, and they opened them up fully. They stood on either side and saluting as he passed. Devon allowed himself an inner smile. They even nailed the salute.
As soon as his feet crossed the threshold of the throne room, an angry, high-pitched buzzing began to torment his brain. Agony washed through him, and he groaned as he sank to his knees. He wondered why he bothered to live at all. All his plans seemed so futile now. The fairy queen was lovely, and all he wanted to do was ruin her happiness. He was a useless, unpopular failure who everyone despised. It would be better for everyone if he just ended his stupid, pointless life right here, right now. Devon could just make out several faint voices on the edge of his consciousness, but the painful buzzing that filled his head drowned them out. Misery consumed him. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he reached for his daggers and sent mana into them. He’d need the sharpest blades so that he could cut his head off cleanly. That would be best for everyone.
The words appeared in his head but quickly became obscured by the angry buzzing that consumed his thoughts. He tried to think about who the voice had belonged to but failed. The noise made it impossible to think about anything other than how wretched he felt. He noticed other members of his army dropping to the floor, hands clutching their heads in agony just as he had been. Now his hands were busy. They crossed the mana-blades and pushed toward his neck. He applied as much force as he could to make sure his demise was quick.
He remembered that voice and the abuse that used to come with it. He puzzled over why his head hadn’t been cut off. He tried again and again until he felt strong hands grab his wrists and pull.
Why won’t this buzzing stop? Lorn? Why Lorn? Devon felt an overwhelming urge to try and kill himself again. Then he winced as he was slapped hard on the forehead. The hand remained as the pain of the slap distracted him momentarily. The buzzing instantly stopped, and his thoughts cleared like a thick fog lifting. What the…? Why am I kneeling?
Devon looked down at his hands. Just as Izzy had said, he was holding his daggers. When had he drawn and empowered those?
Devon picked himself up off the floor and noticed other members of his force doing the same. He sheathed his blades and wiped the tears from his face. He was thankful that his troops all had mana-blades. Magical power couldn’t hurt its source.
He took a deep breath and stepped into the throne room.
This wasn’t the first time that Devon had stepped into this room. It still smelt of sweat disguised by strong perfumes that made his nose wince. This time there were even more fairy nobles crammed in. He estimated there to be something approaching five hundred of them in here. So many that they outnumbered the serving slaves, who looked broken in will and spirit, which made his blood boil. The queen sat on her throne, grinning at Devon. Beside her was Entwaine, a thin and shrivelled-looking fairy. Devon had no idea how he had managed to survive for so long. He was still wearing tattered looking brown robes and a strange cap that sat flat upon his head and had wings that hung down past his ears. He had been whispering in the queen’s ear, but when he spied Devon, he turned to glare hatefully at him with piercing red eyes.
The queen was as beautiful as she had always been, perhaps even more so somehow. Ageless because she was a demigoddess and vain beyond comprehension. Her long golden hair shone in the light of the chandeliers, and her deep blue eyes sparkled. Her face and full figure perfectly formed a stereotypical male ideal of good looks. Fairies weren’t shapeshifters, but they could change their appearance over time, like many species of faie. Their appearance gradually altered to how the individual perceived themselves to be. When faced with so many beautiful creatures who adopt the same features, each one instantly became average and without character. The queen’s beauty went beyond fairy ability, though. Her radiance felt magical somehow.
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As he’d ordered, orange and blue squads marched forward and got to work on their assigned tasks. Quite soon, bound guards were led back through the curtains and marched away to be stripped and rebound in the entrance hall. Entwaine shrieked in rage when a golden cage appeared around him and shrank until he was forced into an angry crouch.
“My, my, aren’t we thorough, Lord Reaper. Have you come to punish me again? I did so enjoy the last time you visited,” the queen said. Her regal tones conveyed all the sarcasm that she intended they should.
“Why, Triana, how thoroughly unpleasant to see you. I must say you’ve been in my thoughts a lot over the last week. So much that I just had to come and visit. I am very sorry about the mess we made in your city. As I intend to flatten it soon, I didn’t think it mattered. You won’t need all your guards and slaves now, either.”
“Yes, I had noticed a lot of debris in my garden. I will make you clean it all up with your tongue when I own you again.”
There was a series of colossal explosions, and the whole building began to shake as small traces of dust fell from the ceiling.
“Oh, dear! There goes the rest of your palace and your precious dome too. How sad.” He grinned wickedly at the queen.
Rage crossed the queen’s face. Her forehead creased as she concentrated hard.
Grace stepped toward the queen. She clasped her hands together, and then, after a few seconds, she melted the marble dais the queen’s throne perched upon. The throne dropped as the platform became liquid then toppled over as it hit the new level of the molten floor. The motion tipped the queen forward onto the scorching hot marble.
Triana screeched and clutched at her face, stumbling back to her feet. She swept her hands around and froze the floor. Instantly cooled, molten marble shattered and spat shrapnel everywhere. She rounded on Grace and stalked toward her, hands outstretched as if she intended to strangle her. She had long, pointed fingernails that looked more like claws. “You little bitch, I will tear your eyes out and feed them to my dogs.”
Grace stood her ground and gazed placidly at the queen, unafraid.
Devon cast his ‘soul chains’ spell and thick, black chains enshrouded the queen. The chains contracted and forced Triana into a kneeling position. The mist that exuded from the chains began to syphon away the fairy’s mana quickly.
The queen screamed in frustration. “Your pathetic little tricks won’t stop me from ripping her heart out, Reaper.”
Meanwhile, Entwaine rocked around in his cage, shrieking in pain. As he touched the bars, they would shock him, causing him to sway the other way. Instead of learning and remaining still, he continued to inflict pain on himself. Everyone ignored him, though. Their focus was firmly on their queen.
“I punish anyone who threatens those loyal to my name, Triana. Besides, she is far more powerful than you could ever be. Now, you mangy piece of filth. Let’s get down to business, shall we? You are hereby charged with mass racial crimes, genocide, genocide by proxy, fraud, infringement of rules pertaining to a divine duel, and destruction and theft of Pantheon resources. I am authorised to remove your soul and take possession of your realm upon your demise. While I will take your soul, I have promised your death to another.”
The queen glared at him. Her face had already started to puff up after receiving some quite severe burns on Grace’s molten marble. “I can destroy you, you puny little god. You shall bow before me. Release me, and we’ll fight.”
Lorn asked.
Devon released the chains and allowed the queen to get to her feet and regain her composure. She had no mana, was without her defences, and Lorn had locked her inside her own head.
“By the way, Triana, your daughter asked me to say hello. You sacrificed her life to turn her into a living bomb, and she wishes to thank you for that personally. It was to her that I promised your death. Say hello, Djinn.”
Djinn floated forward until she was facing Triana. Her misty substance began to form into a likeness of April. “Hello, mother. I have waited a lifetime for this. It is time you learnt what real abuse feels like.” The magical entity dissolved and reformed around Triana. Her essence oozed into the fairy queen’s skin, who immediately began to moan a low guttural noise like the growl of a frightened animal.
The queen seemed to be concentrating hard, trying to fight off her new attacker. “What are you doing? April? We can talk this through. Stop this, please.” Her growl rose in pitch steadily until it became a full-blown scream that seemed to come straight from her soul. Her body shook and spasmed, her concentration gone.
“Aww! I thought you’d be happy for your daughter. She has become what she always wanted to be—your nemesis,” Devon taunted. “She’s a lovely creature now. We go everywhere together and really enjoy each other’s company,” he teased. He could see that Djinn had hooked her essence into every nerve in her mother’s body and was playing them like a harp.
The queen’s burnt face contorted and went puce. She swayed back and forth. “When I defeat you, Reaper,” she spat the last syllable, “I am going to grind you into the ground and burn you for eternity. I will have my guards use your head as a latrine. I might even piss on you myself.”
Devon smiled. “Your guards are dead, and you will be joining them soon. Maybe you should worry about your daughter first. She’s much more dangerous to you than I am.”
The queen’s brow furrowed as she tried to hit him with a mental burst of power that would have sent him reeling if she’d been able to. First, she realised that he’d drained her mana-wyrm dry, then she realised that she could not access her skills either. During all that, she was being wrecked by the constant pain Djinn was forcing upon her.
“YOU BASTARD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?” Her scream raked at everyone’s ears. The realisation of her predicament was now hitting her hard.
“There are thousands who would have me keep you alive and make you suffer in the most painful ways imaginable. I suspect my troops are wishing I would let them make a start on you right now. However, as the Wayfarer, I will not let them tarnish their souls on a piece of excrement like you, Triana. Your people can live on if they wish to do so. You will die. Djinn, please finish it.”
The queen’s face became desperate and terrified. She clasped her hands together and fell to her knees. “No, no, no, please, Lord Wayfarer, spare me. I repent for the things I have done. I will make it right, I promise. I beg you for clemency. Just give me a chance, please. All I ask is you spare my life. I can change.”
Devon smirked. Triana had switched from calling him Reaper now that she understood how powerless she was. She also knew that, as the Wayfarer, he was obliged to listen to her appeal. He cast his ‘divine truth’ spell, and the golden cloud descended from the ceiling. It enshrouded everyone in the room. He noticed a great many red auras among the nobles. Triana’s was a dark scarlet colour that darkened further as he watched.
“Oh, Triana. It seems that your promises to change your ways have failed to reach your soul. I deny your appeal for clemency.”
Izzy closed her outstretched hand into a fist, and the golden cage that encased Entwaine shrank further. It began to squeeze him hard on all sides, causing him to scream in agony. Izzy squeezed her fist tighter, and the shrivelled elf finally burst. Very little gore spattered around, though. It was almost as if he had dried out over the years.
A figure from the crowd of nobles ran at Devon, screaming in rage. His aura was dark red, and he brandished a bejewelled dagger.
Devon reacted fast, reaching for his polearm, but Gwen responded more quickly. There was a loud crack as black mana strands from her whip encircled the fairy nobleman’s neck. Devon’s attacker froze, and his mouth was forced open by the foulest black ichor that oozed out. Unable to breathe, the fairy fell to his knees and asphyxiated slowly, eventually toppling to the floor dead. Devon shuddered. It was a nasty way to die.
Sulkiss launched himself into the air with a roar, expanding as he rose. Soon he was ten feet long and circling above the noble’s heads, watching every one of them with his bright red eyes. Devon smiled. It was good to see the old dragon enjoying his new role.
Djinn changed her torturing tactics and began to finish her work. The queen’s body began to tremble as her daughter pushed tendrils into every organ within her mother’s body. Once each one found its target, the queen’s screams rose in volume, increasing fear and panic dripping from her cries. Her high-pitched wails of anguish were chilling, eventually becoming painful to the ear. Her face contorted and pulled taut as all her muscles contracted at once. Agony violated every cell in her body, leaving each one wrecked.
Everyone watched with morbid fascination as Djinn made her victim feel the demise of every part of herself in agonising detail. Tears flowed down the queen’s face as her voice became raspy, her throat muscles torn by the strain of her screams. She shook and spasmed as the remaining parts of her insides were destroyed by the creature her daughter had become. The queen’s screams died away once her life finally left her. Djinn emerged from the corpse and moved over to hover next to Devon.
Devon gave her a small smile.