The Demon Lords (Demon King renamed)

The Kingdom Thespian, once a beautiful and thriving place where doors were never locked and windows were never barred to any mortal man who thought to tread through its quiet streets, all ruled over by King Syrec. Now a barren wasteland, any windows left stand on the remains of foundations in charred fragments.

A kingdom blackened with ash and flame and nothing but a heavy cloud of grey grew there. Since the Demon Lord took refuge in King Syrec's castle on Mount Arcane which was now nothing but a black spire on the face of the world.

So long ago it was when he first led his black chariot amidst the flanks of two damned horses into the prospering city. And so long since the story of the battle and the sequence of events that took place afterwards were ever recounted as they will be now.

Chapter 1

The sound of the battle drum echoed throughout the land. There was the sound sharpening of blades making the shrill chorus of Death's flock on the stormy air. A bout of rain had made the field waterlogged and dismal. The sky was black and silent save for the nearby roar of lightning.

Weary men stood outside weather beaten tents, not daring to sleep. Amour coated feet stamped into the ground and shields lay close to hand streaked with rain.

Treyen, Captain of the Royal Guard, hadn't said a word. Instead he took to looking to the sky, as if praying for some kind of peace to take hold of the murderous winds. He cast his eyes along the horizon observing the abominable character that stood there, waiting for the first strike.

Treyen grunted and let out a long low sigh. The men were weary and would not sleep for yet another night if this vigil was to be kept. If they kept on like this much longer then there would be no man with him that could even think to stand on his own two feet, let alone raise a sword against the Beast.

Standing up abruptly he made a grab for his sword and shield. Slamming down his visor with such an almighty crash all the men in the surrounding area stood to attention. The silence within the camp was broken only by the rolling of thunder.

"Many lives have been lost to this Beast! Countless women and children have slain at the wayside in order to slake this demon's thirst for blood. And I say it is to happen no more!" then, revelling in the mighty roar that came from the throats of near a thousand strong men he strode off in order to make battle against the unearthly foe.

The sound of the marching army almost drowned out the thunder completely. None took notice of the weather that shook the drenched field that they walked on. Or the flashes that lit up their armour giving the appearance of a horde of spirits wandering through the murderous night.

Yet there he still stood. Calm and relaxed at the sight of the horde of men that were careering their way to his resting place. His eyes glinted, crimson red underneath tendrils of black hair. His armour did not glisten with the heavy rain.

This armour was as black as the thunderous sky about him. All about him there was a cloud of steam as the rain burnt into vapour before touching his person. There was the stench of singed flesh and the once green grass around him had been burnt black. It was as if nature defied what he was and strived to stay away from his presence at all costs.

His horses gnashed and reared up on their hind legs, waiting for the charge that was about to take place. Real stallions of Satan they were, their eyes maddened by the sights of the Underworld and their hooves chipped and scarred with flames. Their legs split as the raw skin of their hides cracked open and the blood dripped to the floor. Flames blossomed in their throats as if the begged to be released onto the world.

Unfolding his arms momentarily he looked towards the nearby castle of Thespian.

He remembered the first time he had set eyes upon the kingdom and how beautiful it looked whether it was by the light of day or dark of night. But most of all he remembered how dearly he wanted to bring it to ruination.

Destruction, he loved it. He had taken it to heart all his existence and nurtured it into a killing machine.

"Fools," he muttered under his breath, "Here they come with their toothpicks and shields thinking themselves safe behind their captain. Thinking they are fighting for the right and noble cause. Following like sheep to the slaughter."

He gently picked up the reins of his chariot and tightened his hold on them. The gnashing and rearing of the horses stopped and they stood stock still as though cemented to the ground. The madness was all too clear in their eyes no matter the stillness of their figures.

Captain Treyen unsheathed his sword and held it aloft as they marched towards the Beast. A thousand men he had behind him against one. Victory was assured and Treyen would be welcomed in glory in the halls of Castle Thespian.

The king's daughter would be returning home shortly and then whatever honour he was bestowed he would pledge unto her. The Army of Thespian would be the most respected army for generations to come.

Yet as these pleasant thoughts entered his head a low terrible growl echoed around stopping him and his men in their tracks.

"You are all going to die." And then silence. Complete and utter silence. Even the wind around them had stopped blowing and the rain had softened to a near halt.

Hands shook and swords shook with them. The men's courage was waning and it would not be long before they gave up the fight altogether for want of a safer place to crawl away and hide.

Treyen knew this and, with the last ounces of courage he had left raised his sword and roared, "For Thespian!"

No sooner had he proclaimed this a head was rolling through the muddy verge leaving a trail of cold blood behind it. A flash of black and it was gone.

The captain whirled around and his corporal’s decapitated body had slumped to the floor holding his sword in a tight death grip. Some men bent over and vomited heavily, others drove their swords into the ground to steady them and others sank to their knees and sobbed.

Treyen looked back in the opposite direction and there the Beast was, waiting to charge. And, held in a clawed gauntlet, was the head of his corporeal. The face was limp and the mouth hung open and blood spilt over the bottom lip. The head was thrown in front of the steeds was promptly smashed beneath their hooves.

At this sight his men fell to the floor and wretched emptily, unable to tear their gazes away from the Beast’s unspeakable cruelty. The creature laughed so heartily at their revulsion and revelled in their fear.

"Let none escape my beauties!" The Beast unsheathed his sword and leaped off the chariot and the contraption sped off with unearthly speed.

His chariot was a thing of beauty and destruction. Black as the armour he wore and as beautiful as any silver leaden night. Intricate patterns laced the body of it and ornate handle pieces secured the leather straps to which the horses were tied. But such finery would not be observed by the frightened lambs of battle.

"Call to arms!!" roared Treyen and began a run at the Beast. Any men with a shred of hope yanked up their swords and shield and charged with their captain. Others fled as far as they could. But this was in vain. The chariot was speeding round and around the camp. Escape was impossible.

Blood splattered across Treyen's face as one by one his men fell around him at the blade of the devil. Screams rent the air as the murky ground turned red in an abominable waterfall; hands grabbed onto him in a desperate plea for help and then were whipped from sight in a blur of blood and fire. And cruel laughter amongst the screaming, "I told you, you are all going to die here!!"

In what seemed a heartbeat Treyen stood alone. The Beast was nowhere to be found and his men were demolished. He had been deserted on the battlefield against the Devil himself.

He fell to the floor and crossed himself reverently and prayed for forgiveness for the past sins that he had committed. If he was to die at the hands of the Devil then he begged for redemption from God.

Before he had any time to plea for his life the Beasts armoured feet were in his sight. His head lifted and there he was. Two rubies of blood set in a face of stone only his jet black hair seemed to have any animation of life.

"What are you doing you pathetic excuse for a life form?" Distaste rang heavily in the demons voice. Such a pathetic display as this he had never seen before.

Treyen tightened his grip on his sword and swung wildly at his foe. However this was futile, the blade was caught casually within the monsters grip. A burning sensation ran through the blade and it was obliterated in a shower of molten shards.

Through the shards Treyen could see the demon’s twisted smile.

Treyen scrambled away and reached inside his breast plate and drew a golden cross from it. He held it up to the Beast like some kind of magic charm. A glimpse of cold black later and the cross was held in the Beast's hand.

"How insulting. You believe me to be a minion of the Devil?" Flames filtered from the palm of his hand and there was nothing but molten liquid in the spot where the cross was. "Dear little child, I am so much more than that."

Treyen raised his hands in surrender and a savage kick was dealt to his chest. Blood spurted out from his mouth and his eyes rolled momentarily into his head.

"Surrender is not an option. You are prey and I am your predator. The cycle must be kept and I must destroy you."

A sword sweep later and it was all over.

His steeds and the chariot appeared at his side at a slow trot. He gave a swift nod to the horses and mounted the chariot.

The horses reared their heads and flames billowed out onto the ground. The field lit up in flames. The mountain ranges surrounding the areas became huge pillars of fire. In what seemed an instant
the ground was stripped bare of life and no sign of a battle was left.

The Demon Lord cast a cold eye over the wasteland and turned to Thespian. A jewel it seemed in this now barren necklace. It would make its destruction all the more sweet.

"Onto Thespian my beauties" And with a gentle tug of the reins the chariot sped off towards the sunlit pastures of the central kingdom.
Chapter 2

King Syrec looked out onto his kingdom with sad and weary eyes. High had the flames of the Beast risen out of peace and prosperity. Women and children lay in crude graves with no marker. All of his men lay in what kind of state he did not dare to dream of.

Even so far away and with no chance for word he knew the battle had gone ill. The flames had illuminated the light sky so brightly that to observe it one would think it was daylight. This Beast was an abominable creature and none of his seers or wise men could speculate his origin.

His power was incredible. It was said that he did not fear the symbol of the cross and their weapons were like toys to him. His deadly chariot was a symbol of fear amongst his remaining people who had fled the citadel some weeks before.

Hopefully they would find her before Leydian arrived home. If the battle had gone ill then Treyen was surely defeated. Long he had known of their betrothal. It was saddening to think that if this battle had been won then things could have been different for both of them. Now he'd sent all his people to flee into caves and crevices at the edges of the world.

There was only a matter of time before the Beast arrived at his gate.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"

A wizened seer limped her way to the king’s throne and bent low and abruptly. Her face was a mixture of pain and fear and her hands shook inconsolably underneath her long robe.

"What is it? What have you seen?" The dull patter of raindrops on the castle roofs had returned and the lightning and resumed. Strange that such forces of nature should be seen as a comfort in these times.

"I see darkness milord. Such heat emanates from this darkness. His eyes are those of the Devil though he fears no cross. Upon his steeds he makes his way to our city. Flee milord you must!" The seer held her hands to her head as a spasm of pain wracked her body and she fell to the floor with an ear splitting crash.

Syrec dashed forward and turned the seers face towards him and almost as soon as he had seen it he had leapt back and gripped his throne with terror.

Her eyes were bloodshot and rivulets of blood were streaming their way down her face. The skin around her mouth and eyes were cracking and steam was spilling from the crevices.

Then, an eruption of hatred from her cracked mouth, "I am coming pitiful King. Prepare to bow down to your Lord."

Suddenly all was quiet and the seer lay limp on the ground as lifeless as any of the bodies that lay strewn around the kingdom.

Without hesitation the Syrec left the seat of the throne and thrust his hand towards his sword that lay constantly at his side. He gripped the slender hilt of the sword. And just as promptly let go of it with a cry of anguish. The hilt was burning hot and the air had become stifling to the lungs.

Before his eyes the sword deteriorated into nothing and the whole of the hall felt as though it was on fire. The Beast had come. There was no time to prepare, no time to flee. Like a captain with his ship it was now his duty to strap himself to the helm and plunge into the deep dark waters.

The doors of the hall hissed and spat and chips of wood flew from them. Then with a resounding crash the hall doors smashed apart and fire and flame receded back to the origin.

The Beast stood there its arms spread wide much like the gesture of a long lost friend wanting comfort and solace from his companion. Yet there was no comfort in the eyes and all the solace in the world would not have dulled the sharpness within them. His black cloak trailed carelessly behind him and his sword hung limp at his hip.

“You are King Syrec I presume?” the creature gave the king a searching gaze, his eyes flitting up and down, a grin plastered on his features.

The king stood tall against his throne, “Yes proud leader of the Thespian people, and ruler of the North Lands.”

Deprian’s head rolled back and a mocking laugh rose from his lungs, “How amusing, you are master over nothing. You are nothing mortal. Look outside your windows, you and your land are spent.”

The king sagged slightly at these words, the words of the demon cut through him like icy spears.

"But tell me have you much experience in the art of bowing?" The Beast strode down the length of the hall and stood face to face with the King. "I've heard the sight is supposed to be very sweet especially from one who has fallen so far from power such as you."

A grin of the greatest malice scratched the stone surface of the face and the eyes flashed with glee.

"I would never bow to such an abomination of Satan such as you!"

The Beast's hand swiped across the King's face and a loud crack shook his jaw. It was broken.

"You are wrong uneducated one. I am no spawn of your Satan as you call it. There is no heaven. There is no hell. There is only the Underworld and all must meet their fate there. I am the Ruler. I am the Messiah." The Beast leant forward and whispered into Syrec's ear, "I am Deprian, the Demon Lord."

With a quick slash of Deprian's burning gauntlet, King Syrec lay on the floors of his forefathers in the throes of death.