Devil's tale

Devil's tale, chapter 35

Marianne sat still in her rocking chair. The windows and doors of her home were closed, but she still pulled her woollen blanket tight around her shoulders, against the cold. She glanced at the empty fireplace. She hadn't stoked the hearth once, since she'd heard from Farris that her son was a fire-devil. She imagined flames, and tears filled her eyes. She still remembered the day she'd abandoned her son, as if it was yesterday. She remembered his eyes. Back then, all she'd been able to see, had been their slit pupils and yellow glow. When Farris had been born, his eyes had been full of innocence and light, and they'd looked exactly the same as Avarice's had, the only difference being something as trivial as eye-colour or the shape of his pupils. Avarice... that was the name her son had chosen to go by. It was the name she knew him by. She thought about the fact she hadn't even bothered to give her son a name, and she buried her face in her boney hands. Farris and her husband both seemed to think her sadness was because she'd given birth to a devil, but neither of them knew the truth, as neither would fully be able to understand. She'd brought a child into the world, and then thrown him away like garbage. She'd heard all sorts of horror-stories from Farris from soldiers, from royal propaganda, about what kind of supposed monster, her son was. She'd heard he'd burnt the face of a royal commander clean off, that he could subjugate dragons to his will and that his powers of persuasion were strong enough that he could make devout clerics stray from their paths and fall into sin. But she remembered something else. She remembered once walking by the song-string college and glancing into its courtyard. There, she'd seen young men all practicing their arts with smiles on their faces, joking around about their favourite artists and authors, making fun of each other's works. Avarice was from that same place, she doubted a minstrel raised at that school, could be as monstrous as everyone claimed he was.

There was a knock on the door. Marianne looked up as Farris strode into the living room, his face grave.

"You're back?" Marianne asked, surprised. Her gut suddenly sank. "What happened?" She saw the look in her son's eyes, and knew whatever news he had, it wouldn't be good.

"Blackhorn, he's no longer on this plane of existence." Farris said.

"What?!"

"His presence, it's completely gone. I can't sense him anymore. I tracked him to the city of water, I even confronted him there, but all of a sudden, he just vanished, overnight!" Farris sat down and held his head in his hands.

"My guess is, he's headed down into the hells."

"What makes you think that?" Marianne asked softly.

"Before he left, he asked me to deliver a message." Farris said grimly.

Marianne's eyes lit up. "What did he say?"

"He addressed it to you and father. He said he would dethrone the king." Farris said.

"That... that's it? No further threats? Nothing?" Marianne asked.

"What further threat do you need, mother?!" Farris snapped.

"I thought... I thought he'd give a more personal threat. I thought he'd want to hurt me and your father specifically."

"It's not like he did not mention you." Farris said.

Marianne's eyes lit up. "What did he say?" She leaned forward.

"He said he wanted you and father to fear him." Farris said coldly.

Marianne felt her heart sink, she felt slightly nauseous and she sat back. "I see..."

"I want to tell you, you don't need to be scared, mother. No matter what he says he might do, I'll stop him." Farris promised.