Читать книгу Raven's Soul. Volume 1 - Анна Морион - Страница 3

– O Great, O Terrible, our beloved Lord! – The Chancellor burst into the throne room with a shriek.

Lamar, the demon king, was annoyed by his servant's honors, but he didn't want to part with him, because the fussy demon had all the paperwork on his shoulders, and he did it well.

– Don't you shout! – The king waved him away with slight disgust.

– But…but… – The chancellor had a difficult fate: he had to tell the king about the recent incident and not lose his head, so he mumbled in an attempt to find the words.

– "But what?" – Lamar sipped from the golden cup and stared lazily at his approximant. – Had the angels finally sinned? Had the light come to a wedge? Has the lake of fire dried up? – The demon ruler chuckled, curling his fingers on his free hand.

– Not quite, oh, Great, there is such a thing … – almost a whisper began to speak cowardly chancellor.

– You tell me that the humans have declared war on us! – Lamar's laughter rumbled through the hall, and all the courtiers present caught it like a contagious disease.

– Yes… You could say that… You will definitely want to bare your sword now, my Lord," the servant said uncertainly, clutching the scroll in his hands.

Suddenly there was silence in the throne room, but a few seconds later the demons were laughing as they had never laughed before. Even the chandeliers seemed to move and the walls shook. But King of Flammehav did not yet know what he was about to hear.

– I'm sorry," the Chancellor said uncertainly.

– It turns out you have a good sense of humor! – said the King.

– Oh, Great One! People killed your brother! – exclaimed the Chancellor and shrank back in fear of being hit in the chest by a fireball, even closing his eyes.

– What?! – The demon king roared, choking on a sip of red wine.

– His head was cut off, Lord, right in the main square… He was kneeling and grinning… And then chick, and his head flew… – It seemed that if he had the opportunity to curl up and not lose face, close to the king would have done so.

– Everybody out! Now! – Like an awakened volcano, the supreme demon exploded. – And you stay! – Pointing his finger at the chancellor, he drained his cup in an instant, leaving not a drop of his favorite tart drink in it.

– Perhaps you would like some more wine? – remarked the Chancellor, trying to get away from the heavy topic.

– How did those wretched men bring Daryal to his knees? How dare they do such a thing? Where had their fear of the great Flammehav gone! – The king thundered and thundered. Flames danced in his eyes, the veins in his arms swelled with tension, and his handsome face seemed threatened to burst every vessel, so red with anger.

– I don't know why, but he didn't use his magic, at least that's what they say…" the subordinate tried to explain.

– Why was he executed? – Lamar could not sit on his throne and jumped up from it as if it were covered with burning coals. – Tell me now!

– For numerous crimes. Murder, violence and something else minor… King Derek made him a laughing stock, we can't let it go… No one would dare to bow down and then kill a member of the Rossi dynasty… I think we should send an envoy to these savages and declare war on them! – Finally in the voice of the Chancellor appeared confidence and determination.

– Let's do it! – After cooling down a bit, the demon king returned to the throne and, covering his eyes, continued: – My brother's body must be taken to Flammehav. With the head. – The last two words, the supreme demon said as if he had just had his caddy ripped out.

– Alas, that is impossible. They burned it, my Lord," the king's servant shed light on the new details.

– Then let Derek's palace go up in flames and plunge into a Hell… Let it burn like my poor brother's body… Let his entrails burst from the heat in his own chambers! – Lamar threw the bowl at the chancellor, and the latter, tucking his tail, ran out of the throne room.

All of the demon king's instructions were carried out as quickly as possible, and at dawn the envoy set off in the direction of Kaldwind. When the diplomat arrived at the gates of Sturfjell, he was full of determination and anger, and knew that he would soon be able to have a lot of fun with the humans. The demon king had given him the order to kill King Kaldwind, and he had even thought of a way to do it: everything had to be beautiful, spectacular, so that others would not be punished. And he had a special handwriting, which he would gladly show to the whole world.

The gates of the city opened, and the demon was taken to the palace as he had demanded. A few hours of waiting, and he was finally ushered into the throne room. The assassin was jubilant in his soul, mocking the wretched humans and more confident in his abilities than ever. He was not shy in expressions, "poking" the king Derek Merkswerd and completely ignored his personal guards. What can humans do against demons? Nothing, of course. The conversation was coming to an end, and the demon was already seriously annoyed by the king's smile and his self-confidence, so he decided to wipe the grin off his face and execute the sentence. But no such luck: for reasons unknown, the demon's magic ran out, and soon his head was separated from his body by King Derek's sword. The demon's head was packed in a beautiful chest, decorated with jewels and flowers, tied with ribbons and sent to Flammehav, Queen Varma as a gift. To her, for women panic when they receive such surprises, at least they get angry. That way the rumors would spread faster through Røvann, and then spread throughout the fire kingdom. Let the demons know that the humans no longer fear them and are ready to fight back.

The gift was given to the queen through foreign merchants: they often stopped by the palaces of high-ranking ladies, where they were well paid for goods and small services of other nature. Some passed secret letters to relatives and lovers, some asked for something special, and some paid for the satisfaction of their fantasies. For money, merchants were ready to tolerate anything, because sometimes the payment for one small favor could provide their families with everything they needed for a year.

– My queen, the merchants have arrived and wish to show off their wares and present you with a gift from King Kaldwind," Queen Varma was informed by her personal butler.

– Accepting gifts from defeated rulers is so tiresome! – Varma yawned, elegantly covering her beautiful mouth with a thin palm.

– You are right, Mistress. But this is a new king. The old one is dead, and his successor is certainly trying to please you," the butler said flatteringly.

– Of course, because no one wants a war with us. No one will ever have the courage and stupidity to threaten Flammehav! – The queen went to the window to look at the wagons of goods.

– If you wish, I will inform the merchants that you are not in the mood, Mistress.

– No need, let them show me what they've brought. And I wonder what the King of Men has decided to make me happy. – Varma looked around at the newcomers, sneered, and returned to the black leather couch.

– As you command. – The butler bowed and left the chambers.

Demoness, as it is supposed to royalty, was restrained and calm, only a slight grin gave away her true attitude to what was happening. From dresses and fabrics were already sagging shelves of her numerous closets, jewelry barely fit in the countless boxes. This demoness was eighty-seven years old, but she maintained her appearance with magic, making her look twenty-five years old. The queen was amused by the way the foreign merchants humiliated themselves in front of her, trying to find the right words and not to make unnecessary movements.

Varma thought that the atmosphere in the castle was very important. Cleanliness, cheerfulness and passion had to reign everywhere. There were even places in the palace where everyone, whether king or maid, could fulfill their secret desires. All you had to do was send an invitation to the person you wanted to spend time with. Scarlet wicker roses like flames caressed the columns of the palace with their petals and exuded a pleasant, intoxicating odor, so that visitors often stopped at the entrance to the palace and looked for the beautiful flowers, but found them only inside the palace next to the luxurious, openly dressed maids.

Demons had their own way of having fun: some lured strangers into their fatal embrace, some fed off their emotions, and some simply killed. Whoever once set foot in their lands wanted to return there, to Flammehav, where life was carefree but sharp. Varma had a great deal of merit in this. No one could have imagined that one day, in a beautiful jeweled chest, the queen of a great kingdom would find the head of her faithful servant. But it happened, which drove the demoness into a frenzy.

– Lamar! – The heavy door leading to the throne room banged against the wall with a rumble: an enraged queen stood at the entrance. In her right hand she was clutching the hair of the ambassador's head, which was sticky with dried blood, and a grimace of bewilderment on her face. – How can this be understood! How dare he? – Her beautiful white face contorted in anger, and she threw the ugly head at the king's feet.

– I see you already know that the new king of humans makes friends in such a strange way. – The demon king rose from his throne and picked up the servant's head and began to twirl it in his hands, as if it were not disgusting and creepy, but an ordinary cannonball.

– Strange? He's out of his mind! – Varma exclaimed: her husband seemed to have just added more wood to the fire raging within her, and the demoness could barely restrain herself from wanting to kill one of the servants.

– It's ironic: I was sent the news of my brother's murder, and you – the head of a diplomat. – It was as if Lamar hadn't heard his wife's words. – This Derek Merkswerd is not a cowardly man. – Shrugging his shoulders, the supreme demon deliberately released the head from his hands, kicked it with the toe of his tall red boot, and laughed loudly.

The head bounced into the wall and fell deafeningly onto the soft red carpet.

– I don't see what's so funny! – Varma growled, but her face immediately contorted: "Daryal is dead? But how? – She frowned, but then said confidently: – It can't be. He's a supreme demon, and these people couldn't, wouldn't dare…

– They could and they did. – The grin fell from the king's face, and he collapsed on his throne like a sack full of bones. That was exactly how Lamar felt.

– But that's impossible… – Varma was still unable, unwilling to accept this terrible news.

– Perhaps," the king interrupted her in a grim tone.

– But what about magic? – The queen asked quietly.

– There was no magic. He did not use it – Lamar's voice was dark and cold.

– No… No! – Only now did the queen realize the meaning of her husband's words.

– Yes!" came the queen's harsh reply.

– We must…" the queen began, but her husband immediately stopped her attempt to interfere.

– The war will begin soon. Go back to your chambers and don't you dare disturb me," the supreme demon ordered in a grim tone.

With a huff of anger, the offended Varma picked up the hem of her bright red dress and left.

An hour later, the demon king convened a council and issued an order declaring war. He was firmly convinced that humans, a weak race, would not be able to withstand the might of the Dusk Army, but he had no idea what trump cards humans were hiding and how it would turn out for Flammehav. And most importantly, what the Rossi dynasty would have to sacrifice to preserve the lands, and how in an instant the greatest race of all-powerful demons would turn to dust under the feet of the human king Derek Merkswerd.