Rebellion (9 page)

Bartholomew’s lips went rigid. “Make sure that does not change during this battle.” His head cocked in my direction. “The winged boy is still breathing.”

“The winged boy might be important, my lord.” The woman spoke. Her golden locks bounced as she strolled toward Bartholomew, her hazel eyes looking at me. Her waist was strapped in a black corset. “Do you not recall Nephele mentioning that there was one who was the keeper of the Diary of Lucifer? It is clear that this boy is not ordinary.”

“Do you take me for a fool, Nylora?” He looked at me. “Of course I remember.”

A cunning smile appeared on Bartholomew’s face. “Old man,” he said, shifting his gaze to Othaleeon. “If you do not show us the way, we will feed on you in front of this boy.”

“Do not help me.”
Othaleeon’s voice boomed inside my mind once again. I let out a frustrated breath; my hands trembled.

Why should I not help you?
I thought, hoping he would answer me, but there was only silence.

Bartholomew walked around the suffering man. Othaleeon’s eyes swam with tears.

“I will ask you one last time.” The sound of breaking bones merged with Bartholomew’s voice. He crushed the man’s right leg with his left foot. Othaleeon let out a deafening scream, which turned into copious sobs. “Lead us to the throne room.”

I tightened my grasp on my sword while I watched the horror in front of me. For a moment I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest. What was this man’s plan?

Othaleeon did not utter a single word. Nylora trailed her hands across his head, kneeling beside him.

“Since you have denied our request, we will have to find someone else. You are becoming a burden to all of us.” A smile appeared on her face. She looked over her shoulder, bearing her eyes into mine. “I believe his lack of cooperation makes him guilty, don’t you think so, boy?”

Tears of frustration rolled down my left cheek.

“That makes him loyal…you beast.” My chin quivered as the words drifted from my mouth.

Bartholomew slapped Othaleeon’s face with the back of his hand. “So keep in mind that it was loyalty that led this man to his grave.”

The bloodbath began. They mounted Othaleeon’s body. Nylora dismembered him, pulling off his arms and drinking from the open wounds. Dahmian sank his fangs into his face, ripping apart his nose and eyes.

“Let them kill me.”
His voice once again spoke to me, only this time it sounded more like a fading whisper.

Bartholomew tore Othaleeon’s garments from his body. With his hands, he ripped the man’s stomach open, spilling his guts on the floor. As they feasted on Othaleeon’s flesh, the wall started to melt like ice. My heart pounded as fear arose inside of me. Were my companions on the other side of this wall? Had they been captured? Were they alive?

“I guess the old man was not so loyal after all,” Dahmian laughed, pointing his blood-covered finger at the wall. All three stood to their feet, their clothes, hands, and faces smeared in blood.

VI

The throne room sat in darkness. My eyes surveyed the room, searching for my companions, but they were nowhere to be seen. I did not know if I was to feel joy or sorrow at this moment. Had they escaped? Had they been kidnapped?

“Where are you?” Bartholomew shouted, kicking one of the chairs to the ground. “We know you are here, Demyon.”

All the furniture lay untouched. A low fire still burned in the fireplace.

“How did you find us?” I asked Bartholomew as he paced around the room.

“That is none of your concern,” Nylora snapped as she, along with Dahmian, approached the empty throne.

“Well, Nylora. I can answer my own questions.” A smirk appeared on Bartholomew’s face. “We followed the Capios here. Once Xavier came to encounter Nephele and Erebos in the Heart of Elysium, we knew we had a chance of finding the book-bearers.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine when I heard the name of the one that had brought me so much rage.

“You saw Nephele?” My mind was polluted with memories of the last time I had seen her.

Bartholomew pursed his lips. “Is she any of your concern?” He narrowed his eyes.

She was of my concern. I wanted her dead.

Bartholomew pressed his fingers against his chin, turning his face to Dahmian.

“This boy annoys me. How come he is not dead yet?” he asked.

“I do not think you want to kill him.” I was relieved to see Devin walk out from one of the doors behind the throne.

“Devin,” I shouted, relieved to see him. “You are well.”

Nylora marched in his direction; the sound of her heels clicking against the floor reverberated.

“Well, what do we have here? If only you had been the one to have awakened us from our sleep.” Her voice was like an entrancing melody. She extended her hand in an attempt to touch Devin’s face, but he recoiled.

“Awoken you from your sleep?” Devin asked. With sword in hand, he paced around the room, his eyes focused on the blood-drinkers.

“Where is Demyon?” Bartholomew grew impatient. He rubbed his fingers against his forehead. “We must speak to him.”

“What business do you have with him?” Devin pointed the tip of his sword toward Bartholomew.

“Our business is our own, Nephilin,” Dahmian said. “Must we kill all the inhabitants of this kingdom in order to see its king?”

“You and the other Nephilin…Nephele…you are both very stubborn.” Bartholomew said, giving Devin a half-hearted smile. “There are ten of us here in Bellator. I wish I could tell you where the others are.”

“What business do you want with me, Bartholomew?”

Bartholomew’s jaw opened and he intertwined both of his hands.

“Oh my,” he said with a smile. “The king walks out of his chamber.” He spread out his arms, bowing his head in mockery.

“All my life, I thought the tales of the blood-drinkers were legend. It is repugnant to see what you and your people have become,” King Demyon said.

“My people?” Bartholomew raised his right eyebrow. “Always so quick to judge, Demyon. Always so willing to pass judgment without knowing the truth.” Bartholomew rushed his way toward him.

“How far have you fallen?” King Demyon looked at him in disgust.

“Hopefully, I have fallen so deep into the darkness that no one will dare try to bring me back to the light.” He bent his neck to the left, cracking his bones.

“May I go fetch the others?” Dahmian asked.

“Yes. I want them all here.” He furrowed his brow, narrowing his eyes at King Demyon.

Dahmian paced his way out of the throne room, humming the same haunting melody from before. Bartholomew clicked his tongue repeatedly; his eyes focused on King Demyon.

“I know they are here, Demyon.” Bartholomew crossed his arms. “You know of whom I speak.”

King Demyon observed Nylora as she walked to his right.

“Will you tell us where they are?” she asked as she grabbed the nape of his neck, licking away the blood that had dried on her lips. “I do not think it is necessary to say what will happen if you do not.”

“Do not think we will allow you to wound him.” Devin stooped his body forward as he used both of his hands to grasp the handle of his sword.

Bartholomew let out a snide laugh. “Let’s see what the great Nephilin is capable of.” He grasped King Demyon’s arm. “Try to stop me.” His teeth sank beneath Demyon’s skin.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Devin’s garments ripping like a veil, his dark feathered wings springing from his body. My wings slithered underneath my skin, ripping their way out of me in an instant. Like a torrential river, anger rushed through my veins. I did not hesitate. I tightened my hand into a fist and struck Nylora’s jaw.

Her right hand tightened around the nape of my neck. My nerves twitched beneath her grasp. As the blade of my sword penetrated Nylora’s side, a throbbing pain took my head.

My surroundings were as black as the night. I saw no one else but a grotesque monster ahead of me. Instead of its skin, a clear substance covered its frail-looking body. Its once vivacious blond curls were now lifeless. Despite the gruesome appearance, I could tell by the facial traits that this monster was Nylora. Why did she look so decomposed?

Her body shivered at every step I took. Low snarls came out of her as she wrapped her exposed chest with her skeletal arms. For a while, I gazed at the creature. A part of me was aware that this was the moment to wound her, but for some reason, I pitied her. What had led this woman to be this way? She had once been human and now she was a monster. My thoughts were drowned by the vivid images of how she and the others had killed Othaleeon and the Bellatorian soldiers. My hands pulled on her hair, lifting her chin to me. Empty cavities had taken the place of her eyes. For a few seconds, I stared at her, despising everything she had become. I rested my blade beneath her chin.

“Death,” I whispered, feeling my sword cut through her skin. A thick, dark liquid poured from the gushing wound.

The darkness faded like smoke. I took in a deep breath as I surveyed my surroundings. All in the room gazed at me with fervent eyes.

“Isaac…” Devin’s voice trailed off. “How?”

Something wet touched my boots. I gasped when I caught sight of Nylora’s bleeding body lying on the floor. Her beautiful pale skin disintegrated, revealing the clear substance that covered her skeletal body.

“Bastard,” Bartholomew declared, surprised at the sight. He tightened his trembling fists; his eyes bore into mine.

Confusion stirred inside of me when I saw my sword smeared with Nylora’s blood.

Wings similar to those of dragons sprung from Bartholomew’s back.

“No one can kill us!” Bartholomew shouted. “Who are you, boy?”

“My name is Isaac Khan and I am the bearer of the Diary of Lucifer.”

“Nylora was right when she said you were no ordinary boy.” Bartholomew pursed his lips and spit on Nylora’s decomposed body. “She was…always weak anyway.”

By now, Nylora’s body was nothing more than a pile of bones buried in a puddle of blood. The stench that rose from the decomposed corpse was reminiscent of a dead animal’s carcass.

From behind me, loud footsteps resounded. When I turned, all the courage inside of me vanished. Dahmian marched in front of them. Their wings were extended to their full width, some being longer than others. I counted, and with Dahmian they were a total of eight blood-drinkers. They stopped in a perfect line.

“Can you defeat us all, Isaac?” Bartholomew let out a malefic laugh as he walked to them. “See that boy?” He pointed to me. “He killed Nylora.”

“What are we going to do about that, Bartholomew?” Dahmian asked, crossing his hands.

The blood-drinkers had their eyes fixed on me.

“You will all pay for this,” one of them shouted in a high-pitched voice. “No man can kill us.” They broke out in animalistic growls and roars. The noise resembled a pack of lions roaring in the wilderness.

It was in that moment that a sudden blue fire appeared inside the fireplace. Confused, I gazed at the bright flames, wondering where they had come from. The cold air inside the room gave way to a rising temperature.

“You are all fools.” My heart skipped a beat when I recognized the voice that reverberated around us. It was Sathees’. A ghostly image of him appeared next to the empty throne. He was clothed in his white robes, and the markings on his body burned with an incandescent blue light. His eye sockets were consumed by flames.

A loud explosion occurred where Sathees stood, filling the air with a blinding silver.

“What are you trying to do, old man?” Dahmian shouted. “Scare us all with your cheap tricks?”

Loud roars echoed in my ears. My knees trembled when I saw wings appear. The smoke receded, revealing a beast that now stood in the room with all of us. A white dragon, armored from head to tail.

Bartholomew and the others stared at the beast with fearful eyes.

I looked at him with a smirk on my face.

“Cheap tricks?” I mouthed the words to him.

The blood-drinkers were agitated. They exchanged confused looks as they stepped away from the throne room.

“I will kill you,” Bartholomew screeched, pointing his finger toward me. “I will kill you.”