Raven's Soul. Volume 1
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– Can't you see that I have no intention of killing today? – he said in a sarcastic tone that made Bergil's face flare.
The head of the guards gave the visitor a contemptuous glance: this red-eyed, black-haired demon was clearly mocking the people around him. On the beautiful face of the visitor could easily read the disgust, which, however, he clearly did not hide.
"I know what you hope for in case of conflict, you damn brat: your magic. But it won't hurt either of us this time, and it won't save your thin neck from my sword!" – Bergil grinned grimly.
– 'Follow me. And don't open your mouth until His Majesty addresses you first," he said curtly to the demon and, without turning around, strode quickly into the palace.
Still with the same crooked grin on his lips, the demon followed his guide. Despite his apparent disgust for the city of men and the men themselves, the uninvited visitor looked at his surroundings with his eagle eye and could not help but notice, albeit grudgingly, that perhaps the despicable men were not so poor and ignorant after all, since they were able to build such a beautiful but powerful palace on the inaccessible top of a high mountain, which was in the heart of the capital of Kaldwind – Sturfjell.
"It's cold here. Soon it will all turn to ruins and ashes. These bugs have no idea what awaits them in a couple of days," he thought contentedly as his leather boots tread silently on the light-colored stone of the palace. The demon was anticipating the destruction, fear and death that would soon reign in this kingdom of miserable mortals.
Bergil and the demon entered the huge, bluish-lit hall with impossibly high ceilings and large, beautifully carved stone windows of the throne room, the pride of the palace. King Derek, seated on a large, elegantly carved white stone throne, awaited the arrival of a strange, unexpected visitor who was so foolish and arrogant that he demanded to meet him as if Derek were not the king of a great, rich state, but only the headman of a small village. Despite his title, the king did not wear his simple iron crown, for he did not consider the insolent demon worthy of the honor of seeing him in the full splendor of his royalty. The king was dressed in a black, tight-fitting surtoute, brown leather pants, and tall black boots. Derek was twenty-nine years old and had been in power for a long time, but this man had not fallen slave to gold brocade, jewels, and luxury. Derek had not a shred of fear in his heart for the representative of the demon race, but in order not to make his best friend worry for his safety, he had at hand his broad sword, which he had skillfully wielded since the days of his youth.
– Derek Merkswerd! King of Kaldwind! – slowly approached the throne, the demon said loudly, and his voice echoed in the monumental high vaults.
– I told you not to open your mouth! – Bergil threw angrily at him and drew his sword from its sheath: he was tormented by his distrust of this arrogant demon.
– I was sent to you by my king, the Lord of the mighty Flammehav Lamar! – ignoring the shouting of his guide, the demon continued his speech.
– How dare you address His Majesty in the first name? – Bergil roared, but Derek only grinned at the insolence and made a hand sign to his friend to keep his temper down.
– King Lamar is interested in my humble person? – Derek laughed softly. – What have I done to deserve this honor?
– Soon your people will be slaughtered, your cities will be reduced to ashes, and your despicable kingdom will have no fertile land left, not even ruins, and its memory will be wiped from the face of Wakkerland! – The envoy spoke in a contemptuous, but even somewhat solemn tone, moving closer and closer to the throne of the king.
– Interesting! Go on! – Derek liked this performance.
– We demons will drink the blood of your children and rape your women!
– What grand plans! – the king said mockingly. – What is it about my kingdom that displeases your king?
– You killed his brother a month ago, and he will not forgive you for that. He will avenge the death of Daryal Rossi, and believe me, you wretched man, your puny mind cannot imagine the fate of your lands! – The demon grinned predatorily.
– Why not? You just intimidated me, and in great detail," Derek said mockingly. – So the poor murderer we executed a month ago was King Flammehav's brother? What an interesting coincidence!
"By the Almighty! What have we done!" – Bergil's mind was filled with flames, darkness and rivers of blood, while the screams of women and children rang in his ears.
The demon squinted his eyes: this wretched little man had the audacity to mock the fact that he had killed Daryal Rossi, and the picture of horror that he, Lamar's messenger, had taken such pleasure in painting for him?
– You and your people will pay for this murder! – he shouted angrily.
– Oh, I would love to see it," Derek replied calmly, and rising from his throne he drew his sword and strode toward the envoy as he watched him approach with a wry grin.
– Your people already hate you, imagine what will happen when they find out that it was you who condemned them to horror and death? – The demon asked in a mocking tone. – And the horror and death will come so soon and so suddenly that nothing will save you miserable creatures! But you won't see it, because your death has caught up with you now! – He thrust his hand forward to telekinesis his own sword out of the king's hands and cut off his master's head with it.
But Derek only laughed and came closer and closer.
Bergil did not laugh, but he was in no hurry to leap at the demon and kill him. He knew Derek was in no danger.
– You're relying on your devil magic, aren't you? – grinned the king. – Come on, try again!
Surprised by his failure, the demon did not hesitate and wanted to send a fireball at his opponent, but not even smoke came out of his palm.
– What is this curse? – he muttered, confused and not knowing what was going on. Where's the magic gone?
– I see you're surprised," the king said mockingly, coming closer and closer, and this time the demon didn't try to use his magic again, but deftly pulled a long, thin dagger from the sleeve of his coat.
– Stay back, you miserable brat! – The messenger hissed threateningly and slowly backed toward the door. He was stunned, but realized that, unable to use magic, he was in mortal danger.
– What was it? Is an all-powerful demon afraid of a pitiful human? So King Lamar sent one of his kin to kill me in revenge for the death of his criminal brother? – Derek asked with a raised eyebrow.
– If I don't, he'll tear you to pieces and give your remains to the dogs," the demon smiled wickedly. – My magic has no power here… I should have seen it when I couldn't read your mind, bug king… But I'm the one who will send you to Hell! – He suddenly shouted and lunged forward to stab his enemy with his dagger.