The Warlord

Chapter 40: Evelaen

Three days since the familiar and the prince trudged off out of Hell. Three days of being caged and abandoned. The king and Zarul left me alone the whole time, and at first I believed they were simply underestimating me, that this was a blessing. But neither the bite of steel nor the force of magic could break through the bars, and I yearned for answers and explanations for those three days. I came to realize that the king and Zarul left me to starve my mind and soul dry. It nearly worked.

But this morning, I awaken to the startling sight of two figures shrouded in red mist, striding towards my cage. I immediately stand, ignoring the pain cutting through my stomach and the dryness pulsing in my throat.

"What do you want?" I snarl, not giving them the chance to say anything before I get a word in.

The king and Zarul walk up to the bars, their cruel eyes meeting my glare. Something broken and jagged, like pieces of glinting glass, shines in their dark irises. I have seen the look before on the battlefield; a soldier willing to do anything for glory, a scarred warrior ready to cut down a path of death, even my own reflection haunted me during the first few years I was at war. These are ruthless beings, ones that could bear to watch the world burn if they got what they wanted.

"I have a use for you," the king responds, a hard edge in his voice revealing that he wants to shut me down. I keep my anger high and rampant on my features to show that he has not succeeded.

"Really? And what is it?"

"Zarul, let her out," the king says instead.

"What?" I gasp, caught off guard.

"I can't have my prized warrior thrive on rebellion and disobedience." The king's lips curl into a harsh smile, but I am too focused on his words. Prized warrior.

Zarul pulls out a black key from his thick, flowing robes and unlocks the door. For a moment, I consider bursting from the cage and attacking both of them head-on. I have enough strength left to fight my way through them and dash off. But as soon as I stare into the king's black, depthless eyes, I know that that is suicide.

Drawing my sword, I take a stance in my cage, keeping my guard up. "What do you mean by prized warrior?"

"Serestine's warlord. An infamous title, reserved for the woman that fights like a demon on the battlefield. That is your reputation on Heaven, warlord. If you can survive the might of the angels, then you can endure the demons as well. From this day forth, you will be my warlord. My prized warrior, my elite soldier," he explains, grinning as he does it.

It is hard to keep myself from slashing my sword at him, from taking a fast and quick jab that could easily run him through. "I am not your warlord. Your prized warrior, your elite fighter. I belong to Serestine's queen, and no one else. The only reason I am here is to fulfill my duties to her."

"Zarul," the king's voice turns into a thunderstorm, dark and rumbling and filled with dangerous electricity. "Steal her breath."

The dark-robed, former god draws a line across his own neck, and instantly, I cannot breathe. I drop my sword, the sound of metal clattering against rock muffled and distant to my ears. A second later, I am on the ground next to it, clawing at my throat, trying to capture just a whiff of air. My heart starts to beat, its thump overtaking everything side by side with the panic flaring up in my chest. My prison becomes a whirl of black against red, the figures of the king and Zarul blending right in with the blur.

I can't die like this. I grit my teeth, slamming my hands on the ground and finding my sword. Painfully, I manage to stand, my weapon gripped tightly in my trembling arms. Hunched over and shaking, I stagger to the front of the cage. I catch a glimpse of a smile on the king's face; one of amusement, as if he is watching a pathetic creature. It makes my blood boil. I take the final step, grinning as I see a flash of uncertainty on Zarul's face. Then, with all my might, I thrust my sword between the bar, straight at his heart. He leaps back, but the shock makes him lose concentration, and suddenly air is filling my lungs.

I collapse onto the floor, gasping and gasping and savoring the sweet, sweet taste. I can feel Zarul's glare digging beneath my skin as I slowly crawl to my feet. Even though I am coughing and retching, I smile at the king and the former god.

"I did not expect that. You will make a good soldier, but you still need to be disciplined." The way he says the last word puts me on edge, and I tighten my grip on my sword.

"Just tell me what you want."

"I have been considering the possibilities of what I could use you for. Maybe you could fight alongside my daughter, or perhaps you could join the ranks of my Top Order."

"I will never be a willing pawn."

"Funny that you should say that. In my game, few ever get to keep their will." He brushes a hand through the air, and my vision starts to waver. "That familiar was foolish to establish a link. Magic formed from bonds can always be twisted and used."

The memories of my time in the Serestine military academy, on the battlefield, and under the order of the queen, start to resurface. Except they are shattered and ugly and shown in their worst light. Bastian's cruel, sneering face; the many selfish Serestinian soldiers I met during the war; my queen's impossible orders that I was forced to carry out. No, no! I chose this life! When my queen offered her hand to me on that cold day, I took it! I was never trapped!

"Do not resist," the king hisses. I am vaguely aware of him pacing the cage around me, walking in a methodic circle as his spell does its work. "I can see from your memories that Serestine did not give you satisfaction. You were trapped! Chained to the life of a commander!"

He's not right. But as I see my past unfold into something pathetic and repulsive, I start to lose hope. The voice of reason inside me begins to dwindle and dwindle. Did I really accept her hand out of free will? Or did I just do it because she was the princess and her word would one day be law. The more recent memories begin to rush in, and I let out a strangled, choking sound. The wound of abandoning Serestine splits open once again, but feelings of resentment pour out instead of tears and regret. I was trying to help her. Why didn't she listen? And when I left, she didn't even bother to go after me.

The king's murmurings start to fill my head, and deep, black hate for Serestine starts to bloom within me. A doomed kingdom, led by a foolish queen. Why should I be dragged down with it?

"Yes, good. Do you see now, warlord? Serestine was never the place for you. Here, you can fight by my side, and when I have conquered all three realms, you will be greatly rewarded."

The memories stop, fading away, and I open my eyes. Everything is sharp and pristine and clear; I am a new person now, better and bolder. "What must I do, my king?" Serestine is a distant memory, a part of my life that has been washed away with my new purpose.

"Find Serestine's queen. Kill her for me." He smiles at the order; a blinding slash of teeth, curled into a cruel sneer. I do the same.