Demon's Throne by K.D. Robertson

Author:K.D. Robertson [Robertson, K.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-04T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Rys’s vision cleared and he found himself standing in the cavernous cylinder outside the chamber.

Except this wasn’t the same dwarven citadel that he, Fara, and the others had fought their way through.

Thousands of infernals occupied the walkways. Hulking demons patrolled alongside stout dwarves, wearing the uniforms of the Infernal Empire. All the doors stood open and countless knowledge devils scribbled away at paperwork. Imps and human messengers ducked along the walkways.

The knowledge of what this place was struck Rys all at once, as if his memories had been restored.

This was the central support column of the dwarven city-fortress of Marnn. It was built into the Marnn mountain range, which sat less than fifty miles from the eastern coastline of southern Gauron. The dwarves had hewn this fifty-story cylinder from the rock centuries ago.

The Infernal Empire used it to project power over the region. Rys had commanded a battle front during the Cataclysm from here alongside a demon lord known as Ironspike.

Oddly, Rys found himself standing at the very bottom of this fortress. Five noble devils stood in front of him on the raised platform. They glared down at him. Sneers decorated their faces.

Rys wore full armor and a general’s uniform in the Infernal Empire. His runic axe hung from his belt.

This was the past, he realized. He was seeing events from the Cataclysm, when he had defended Gauron on behalf of the Infernal Empire.

Why had he forgotten this memory until now?

A noble devil opened his too-pretty face to speak. Fury rose within Rys, unbidden.

“The reapers are retreating. The battle is won and our armies are depleted. Our duty to the Empire is done and all is safe. Nobody is sending our armies to attack the offshore Reaper fleets or attacking the angels,” the devil said.

The reapers. That was a name that Rys hadn’t heard for some time. The other divine race that had been destroyed in the Cataclysm.

“We have our orders, General Talarys,” a hooded noble devil added coldly. “And you will follow them. Are we understood?”

Blinding rage threatened to overcome Rys. It took every effort he had not to reach out and cave the closest devil’s skull in. He gritted his teeth, but his glare intensified.

The war council returned his fury with disdainful looks, although one of them looked nervously at the nearby guards. A pair of Arcas devils stood nearby. Their faces expressed gleeful optimism that Rys would step out of line and let them fight him.

This anger was an old foe of Rys’s, he recalled. Lacrissa used it to control him. Bind him to her will. His emotions were shackled to her desires. Whatever she wanted, Rys would be pushed to achieve. Anger had proved the most effective motivator. Rys’s temper had been deeply amusing to her.

Lacrissa loved the story about how he killed his first love, because her family defrauded him.

“I have my orders,” Rys ground out.

The five devils shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, as if suddenly aware that Rys served a greater master than them.

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