Page 10 of Fated to the Demon Lord

I watched, fascinated and more than a little apprehensive, but my guard shoved me past the spectacle, and I lost sight of Tricken and the others.

The gray mist had settled around my ankles, like tendrils of foreboding as we walked. Throk and the others must be able to control it to a degree.

As we passed the last line of trees, and found ourselves in the camp, my steps faltered.

Demons were everywhere. Hundreds of them.

They lay scattered across the camp in eerie stillness, their bodies motionless, their skin turned the same unnatural shade of purple. Some had fallen face down in the dirt. Others were piled together where they’d collapsed, tangled in heaps as though they’d tried to cling to each other in their final moments.

A few had crawled through the mud, leaving uneven tracks behind them before their strength gave out. A few clustered around the cooking pots, frozen where they’d fallen, as if they’d spent their concluding seconds trying to understand what had poisoned them.

The camp was utterly silent. No voices. No movement. Just the heavy, unnatural stillness of death pressing in from every side.

I’d feared the poison might fail, but it had worked far better than I’d ever imagined.

At least I made these monsters pay.

Throk paused and looked back at me. “You did all this, little human?”

I raised my chin. “I did.”

He shook his head, but then released a condescending laugh. “I admit I’m impressed. Unfortunately, your end won’t be pleasant either.”

He pointed to a demon plunging his obsidian blade into a dead body. “See that? It’s called a soul blade, used to raise spirits from the dead and bind them under my authority.”

The unsettled feeling in my gut only grew. “You’re raising the dead?”

Throk’s grin turned wicked. “I don’t think the spirits coming to life will be happy to see you.”

The Spiritu Malignos soldiers had spread out across the camp—different kinds of demons, probably from the four other demon nations. And each possessed the shadowy lines and dull glowing eyes. They hunched over the lifeless bodies of the mercenary demons. They held the obsidian blades in their hands. Blades pierced the dead, repeating what they had done to Tricken.

“Where is the main tent?” Throk demanded.

I didn’t see any reason not to answer. Making him angry would only hurt me, or worse, Mira.

“That way.” I pointed toward the center of the camp. “You’ll find a large tent located three rows over and seven tents up.”

He stalked in that direction, and my guard pulled me forward. Black mist issued out of the dead bodies as we passed, coalescing into spirits. When the Spiritu Malignos soldiers with the black lines on their flesh finished raising one spirit, they moved to the next, pulling the transparent spirit they held on a line that connected to their knife. They raised more and more.

They were creating an army of spirits.

When we came to the main tent, Throk pulled out his own obsidian knife. “Stay here with the human. Do not let anyone touch her until my return,” he instructed my guard.

“Yes, sir,” my guard responded as his thin fingers dug into my shoulder.

With that, Throk ducked and entered the tent.

My apprehension grew at his last words. Spirits were being raised. Spirits of the demons I had killed. If I managed to break the grip of the demon on me and ran, could I outrun an army of demons? Most likely not. And what of the spirits?

Could they do anything to me? They were intangible on this plane. Throk’s instructions forbade touching me, though perhaps he had intended that command only for his corporeal soldiers as they reanimated the dead?

I shivered as even more demon spirits were raised. Gods, I hoped they couldn’t touch me.

While my mind tried to work out some sort of plan, I watched a demon from Spiritu Malignos, a fox-headed one with the hands and feet of a human, raising the spirit of one dead demon and then another. They both followed behind him on the lines attached to their bodies. The fox-demon stepped up to them. “Your spirits have been saved from the underworld to serve the great kingdom of Spiritu Malignos. Will you swear your allegiance to General Throk and bind yourself to him, swearing to obey all that he says?”

A demon spirit that was a mixture of man and ram growled, “I ain’t swearin’ allegiance to no one. Go to hell.”

The Spiritu Malignos soldier grabbed the line, and it glowed a sharp red. It spread down the length of the line until it reached the part wrapped around the demon’s neck. Crimson lines appeared burning into the ram demon’s translucent flesh, spreading across his body as he screamed and writhed. He tore at his body, but it did no good. The red continued to spread, filling his eyes and sinking deeper into him. It ripped him apart, and he evaporated into nothing.