The Demon Lord And His Hero - Chapter 336

Syryn was dragged away by two other half-demons who acted as his guards when they weren’t torturing him. His handler, the skinny demonic creature with grey leathery skin walked briskly ahead of the guards, taking them through several turns of the dungeon that housed their prisoner.

“You will know the dire consequences of disobeying me, Syryn,” the handler snarled at the mute half-demon. “When you killed yourself, our emperor had you brought back to life by sacrificing another one just as powerful as you are. A pity, I say, because Lucien was more loyal to his blood than you could ever be.”

Syryn recalled the poisonous red-headed demon and felt sorry for him even if he was a sadistic demon lord who didn’t deserve any pity.

“Make no mistake, Nigh’hart,” the handler’s voice echoed through the wide passageway that led to a smaller chamber. “You are useful to us only as long as Rowan considers your life precious. Your disobedience, notwithstanding, we are willing to let you test our patience.”

Syryn heard the sound of a match striking and then the smell of sulphur before a lamp was turned on. He could see now, in front of him, a narrow rectangular hole filled with murky water.

“Syryn,” the handler raised his lamp and smiled at the mage whose heartbeat raced when he realised what manner of cruelty they were going to inflict upon him. “I am in awe of our emperor’s creativity and power. For your unforgivable act of betrayal, he has bestowed upon you a body that cannot be killed by any normal means that would take out a living breathing creature.”

Syryn was loathe to beg for mercy though he knew what waited for him in that narrow dark hole filled with water. He was terrified, praying he would die.

“Perhaps you’ll be motivated to show more respect and obedience after you’ve experienced the joy of drowning without relief. How does an hour sound? Excellent, doesn’t it?”

_______

“I’ve sent hawks to the fortress closest to ours. If they get the message on time, we might survive a real attack from the demonic army that Syryn is leading.”

Rowan listened to Qairu speak but his mind wandered as it was prone to do these days. There was a great deal he worried about but the subject that occupied his thoughts most heavily was Syryn, or rather what was being done to him for his disobedience. He recalled how Syryn had made it his goal to defy Rowan at every step of the way when he was doing his best to tame the demon lord. As sure as the sun would rise, Rowan knew that Syryn would struggle till he was broken.

“Are you even listening?”

“No.” The faraway look in Rowan’s eyes was replaced by something empty and jaded.

“Can’t you at least lie and pretend that you care?” Qairu said wearily.

“I do care,” Rowan answered. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

The priest sighed. The anti mage was humanity’s bulwark but he wasn’t made of stone and mortar. Rowan had his needs and feelings but they weren’t being met. He wanted the blond to vent, lose his temper sometimes, maybe even bed his absent wife if she could be found.

“When was the last time you did something enjoyable?” He asked the blond.

Rowan’s answer died on his lips at the cry of a horn that alerted them of enemies.

____

Syryn was back. And just like the last time he had appeared, the army of demons waited silently in the background. Qairu had surmised that they were afraid of Rowan’s powers and wanted him dead before launching their biggest attack yet. The anti mage had the ability to crush hundreds of them in mere seconds when he wielded his sacred Claymore. It was a devastating combination that they had become very afraid of.

“Here,” Qairu gave Rowan his sword without being asked.

The anti mage smiled, a barely noticeable arc of his lips. “Thank you.”

“Get out there and satisfy yourself you repressed blond menace,” Qairu told him.

“Repressed?” Rowan murmured as made his way to Syryn. It was an unfortunate situation he was stuck in but the blond couldn’t deny how much satisfaction it gave him to meet Syryn again.

The tiny bit of happiness he felt was burned away by the sick pit in his stomach that churned at seeing what had been done to Syryn. The stitches on his lips and the bloody injuries on his body could be healed but his old friend bore an even greater injury that dismayed and alarmed Rowan. He could see it through the demon lord’s eyes.

Syryn’s gait was hurried. He appeared manic, shattered, his eyes showing whites all around as if he had been consumed with absolute terror. Rowan realised that something was very wrong with Syryn.

The fully transformed demon lord threw himself at Rowan with a ferocity that surprised the blond. There was no finesse and thought to his attack. He was a cornered wild animal lashing out in fear.

“Syryn!”

A hint of recognition flared and fizzled out like a spark of fire in the rain. Rowan leapt back when sharp claws swiped at his midsection. Without giving him time to breathe, Syryn’s next attack came at him and his wings slammed into Rowan’s armour.

Syryn’s attacks became more and more desperate when the anti mage evaded them effortlessly.

He had to kill Rowan. Rowan had to die so that Syryn wouldn’t be trapped inside the nightmarish pitch-black water for hours. Why couldn’t he stay dead? Why? His lungs still burned from the memory of being drowned – blacking out and waking up only to choke on water and pass out again. An unending cycle of drowning that he saw no escape from. They had threatened to throw him inside and keep him in it forever if he failed to end Rowan’s life.

The anti mage sensed the tang of fear rolling off Syryn in waves. His own agitation trapped him like a caged animal fighting to be let out. Rowan knew then that if he didn’t stop Syryn’s blind rampage, he would either have to kill him or be killed.

When Syryn leapt at him again, Rowan did not evade the attack. He embraced the force of nature that was the fully transformed demon lord – claws, brutal strength, and madness slamming into him so hard he felt his rib crack.

It had been a bad idea but Rowan was just as much of a fool as Syryn was obstinate and contrary. The latter pinned Rowan to the ground with the edge of the man’s own sword pressed near his throat.

“Syryn,” Rowan called softly when he noticed how the demon lord had stopped when he could have slashed into the anti mage’s throat.

“Sy-”

A single drop of liquid streaked down Syryn’s cheek, landing delicately on Rowan’s skin like a raindrop. His hands shook as he fought the human part of himself that had been traumatised by what had happened in the water.

“Ryn,” Rowan called to him again. “What have they done to you..”

It could all end with one death. Syryn understood this fact with clarity. If he killed Rowan while the anti mage was letting him do it, his suffering would end and so would the war. Humanity would lose. Rowan would be no more.

Bright blue eyes engulfed by dark sorrow met Syryn’s beautiful violets. “I’m sorry, Ryn. I’m sorry…so sorry.” The words tumbled out of his lips like pebbles carried by a river. Rowan was sorry for many things. Above all, he was sorry he had failed Syryn in every way.

When a short burst of flute notes rang out clearly, Syryn knew his time was running out. He clenched the blade of the sword so hard that it dented in his claws. He had to kill Rowan to end all the suffering.

“I’m so very tired, Ryn,” Rowan told him. “I wish we could turn back time and return to better days.”

The flute stopped playing. It was now or never. The demon lord commanded his hands to work, to kill the man before him, but they disobeyed.

“A part of me died with you. I don’t have it in me to watch you die again.”

The demon lord would have snarled if he had the capacity for it. He threw the blade aside with unbridled ferocity and looked skywards, praying that the gods would have mercy and grant him death. He closed his eyes and he was back inside the narrow water tank, pitch black and silent, drowning him for eternity. Hopelessness wrapped its cold tendrils around Syryn’s heart.

For Rowan. Only for Rowan.

The demon lord searched within himself and found love for the man who had taught him what it was to be human. A kernel of warmth. He would hold onto its precious light and endure his nightmare. And someday, Rowan would win the war and release him from that terrible inescapable abyss made for his punishment.