Revenge

Revenge

  Copyright 2014 Nathan Anton

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  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Revenge

  About Nathan Anton

  Other books by Nathan Anton

  Connect with Nathan Anton

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to Amy Lynn for the beautiful cover art and thanks to the family for their support.

  Revenge

  On a dark stormy night this child was born. The distant forest sung in prayer and the wooden windows in the settlement applauded her birth; but they were the only ones that did. The child looked human but had noticeable horns on her head, the horns of a devil to these people. She had evil looking silver hair and red eyes that were constantly staring; she sent shivers down the villagers’ spines whenever she looked at them.

  A few years had passed since this…thing had been born. The mother was disgusted and outraged at the little mistake, marking it as a fault in her judgement from months long past. The child was named Arcona, which meant the bringer of darkness and despair in local superstition. Arcona could already walk and talk at the tender age of two. The villagers saw this as abnormal and a curse, and did everything they could to put down the poor child.

  Thwack.

  A sharp rock flew by and slugged Arcona at the back of the head while she was doing her daily unreasonable tasks. Blood tainted her silver hair and trickled down her small spine. Arcona didn’t make a sound. She was taught not to speak over the past few years, with constant beatings, and learned the hard way how her society treated her, even at such a delicate age...

  “Leave us demon!”

  “You caused my child to commit suicide! Die!”

  “Dirty little thing, isn’t she?”

  The village troubles were thrown at her as she picked up the bucket of water from the well in the middle of the settlement. Other children ran past her and kicked the bucket from her small hands, dousing her in water. The bucket rolled away but was promptly followed by the children as they stamped mercilessly on it. Arcona stumbled home, unable to gather water again…

  “You couldn’t even do that! What a useless bitch you are! Leech! Cretin! Abomination!”

  Arcona’s mother hurled all manner of objects at her and when she missed, she took it upon herself to complete the punishment physically.

  Thud…Thud…Thud.

  “Why were you born? Just die! DIE!”

  Arcona was beaten to unconsciousness and left to rot on the stone cold floor that was her room. These horrid events had been everyday life for little Arcona, punished just for being born. Hated because of her mother’s mistake, and feared because she was different.

  That night some extremist villagers entered Arcona’s home and stabbed her despicable mother in her sleep, a fitting end for such a poor excuse of a parent. Her death throes echoed loudly and gained the whole village’s attention. The villagers came in high number with fire and pitchforks and looked at the abominable child Arcona, who was just coming to, from her evening beating.

  “This demon killed her mother!”

  “Burn her!”

  “Get it!”

  The villagers charged en masse at the confused child but couldn’t catch her as she ran between the crowds. Running…running…running, she ran with great speed and managed to escape the wrath of the deluded villagers. Still she kept going, how far she didn’t know; her life was in danger yet again but this time it was different, it was more intense and she ran on pure instinct. The lights eventually disappeared in the distance behind her and the shouting quietened down to silence.

  Arcona was in the nearby forest. It looked like she’d entered another world entirely. Water peacefully ran down the stream, glistening in the bright moonlight. The lush trees swayed in welcome and the bristly grass was nice on her scarred feet. In the distance a cat demon of some sort was mauling a lesser animal, which was now unrecognizable in its state.

  The demon stopped its meal and approached the staring girl with fangs bared and talons at the ready. Arcona didn’t move, for although this beast was frightening it somehow felt like an ally; she felt like she should follow this beast onto the correct path in life.

  The beast approached with glaring eyes, and circled Arcona like a predator. She stretched her hand out slowly, hoping that she would be spared. The beast then struck suddenly and bit hard into her small arm. She was forced to kneel in unbelievable pain. Then the cat demon retracted its fangs and ran away. It had tasted something odd in her blood and didn’t feel up to the meal.

  Dehydration, starvation, clotted bruises and uncared-for cuts, Arcona was at her limit. The excessive bleeding in her small arm made her weaker and she collapsed on the ground, clutching her own body as if trying to be comforted in a way she had never been.

  Is this life?

  Is this…death?

  …

  …

  NO!

  I shouldn’t die here, I don’t deserve to die…but they do. They all do!

  Her years as a punching bag were over. Those detestable thoughts of hate and those painful, painful memories will be turned into fuel, fuel for power.

  Demons are resilient, Arcona knew she was different besides been told it every day. She hated herself for not being normal. She hated being a demon. She hated the villagers. She hated the world…

  I need…power.

  “Never incite the demon’s wrath,” was a popular saying among the land. Her village had done exactly that and would pay for their deeds.

  The stream supplied a steady amount of water. The wildlife provided food. The trees provided wood and the rocks provided flint for fire. Nature was cheering her on. Stone spears, sturdy shelter, clever traps; all that and more were her weapons. Beasts ran when they saw her hungry crimson eyes, but were too slow to escape this ravenous girl.

  Jab! A wild boar was impaled for supper. Arcona opened her mouth and bared her unnatural fangs at the fallen beast. Cooking her meat got tiresome and the taste wasn’t quite right; raw and wriggling in pain and fear was her preferred cuisine.

  The more she killed the more the demon inside of her awoke. Her demonic features surfaced more clearly and her powers grew beyond imagination. Her dim silver hair was now a beautiful sheen. Her eyes went a deeper crimson and glowed in the dark. A tail sprouted and promptly split on her lower back. Her finger nails grew hooked and sturdy, providing her with a natural weapon. Arcona no longer needed tools after a time and killed with her bare hands.

  Sorcery was also within her grasp, and the more her mind sunk into sadism the more power she could feel flowing into her. After years of training…it was time…

  ***

  Arcona waited until nightfall. The storm was dense and loud; it was the perfect opportunity for a night of slaughter. Ironic how she had been born on such a night and that it marked the end of this pathetic village’s life.

  The guardsmen patrolled the perimeter with torch-lit fire and pitchforks, but couldn’t see well in the rain and strong winds. Arcona saw an opportunity and savoured her first kill. She pounced on the lone guard and tore his throat out before he could make a sound. She then spat the flesh back at him as a statement.

  Now who’s dirty?

  The next one was dispatched with her claws, straight through the eye sockets and into the brain; the next with his o
wn weapon through the chest. Soon enough all the guards on the outside were defeated and the fun really began. House after house she crept into. Some she suffocated in their sleep and watched the life leave their eyes when they abruptly woke. Others she stabbed and listened intently to the gurgle of blood in their throat.

  This is…fun. Why didn’t I do this before, why did I put up with all this shit!

  Her latest victim was a child; she felt no remorse and took pleasure in breaking his little neck. Jealously arose within her chest. These children were to live normal lives. They were born human and given the fair rights humans should have. So why? Why was Arcona different? Why was she born to suffer? It now made sense. Her role was to teach these lowlifes a lesson, and make them understand fear.

  The village was now void of life. Bloody carcasses littered the ground outside and the beds in the houses, even Arcona was lifeless in her own way. There was a problem. Arcona wanted more; more death, more disembowelment, just more.

  The unused magical power growing in her was making her lose her mind. She didn’t know how to expel this malevolent force, all she needed was to keep this demon happy and feed it with hate and fear. What monster had this village unknowingly unleashed on the world?

  ***

  Travelling and indiscriminate slaughter went hand in hand for Arcona. She used every tool available to kill and gain a weak sense of pleasure. There was no shortage of eager males looking to get their hands on her growing body for impure activities; they were the easy prey and also the most boring. It was always exciting entering a new town or village and acting all human and innocent, only to tear the locals’ preconceptions asunder when they fell prey to her claws.

  Over time Arcona grew into a very cunning and dangerous woman. Her heritage played a large part in her personality and endeavours, but her unfair nurturing had left a crater in her soul, an empty void that never seemed to fill no matter what she did. Mindlessly killing off humans and the occasional humanoid was all well and good but it started to get boring. Arcona needed something more, something to test her wits and her strength; she needed a challenge.

  One day while passing time in the largest city of the land, a tournament poster caught her eye. Warriors of all species were to enter this fray but only one would be able to challenge the King and reign supreme over the land.

  Rule?

  A burning impulse struck Arcona’s blood as she decided to enter this competition and play her hand at ruling the continent. It was time to show the world her absolute power…

  ***

  The current ruler was a mysterious man who never brought himself into the public eye. Rumours suggested he wasn’t human but a strange being not like anything on the planet. Arcona wasn’t interested and would pay attention to him if he was a worthy challenge.

  “Arcona is it? Thank you for entering this year’s tournament, here is a list of rules and inns that may take your fancy.”

  Arcona gathered the items from the tournament registrar and departed without saying a word. Other eager competitors were lined up as she walked past them, thinking about which inn to stay at.

  “Hey babe, how about we do some training in my room tonight?” One of the larger male warriors said to Arcona like a jerk.

  Arcona stopped in her tracks. The man approached in a sassy manner, being cheered on by similar degenerates around him. The town was dark at this time and absorbed Arcona’s black travelling cloak well. It was clear she was well built and beautiful, even when hidden within the darkness of her cloak.

  “How about an answer then, huh?” The man placed his hand on Arcona’s slender shoulder; a very grave mistake indeed.

  A smile as callous as could be appeared on Arcona’s once emotionless face. A quick change in the wind was all the other warriors felt as they could not possibly have seen Arcona’s lightning fast reactions. The jeering and encouragement for the suave man stopped as they all saw the situation he was in.

  “Guhhh!” The man tried to speak but only made a gurgling noise.

  Arcona had turned to face the man and grabbed his throat with her powerful hands. She squeezed; tight, and wouldn’t ease up. Although much larger than her, the warrior was lifted up and suspended high in mid-air. Arcona looked happy; she had an unconscious grin on her face as she crushed the man’s windpipe. He was dead but she held him still and continued to squeeze with her clawed hands. Everyone gazed in both astonishment and fear at the scene that was happening in front of their eyes. Arcona eventually let the man go or rather the sheer force of her grip had severed her victim’s throat and she clutched naught but air as blood trickled down her arm.

  Thud.

  The man dropped onto the dark floor and lay still. Arcona turned her hungry stare to the rest of the warriors in the queue and dared, no, hoped another would make a move. None did, in fact a few warriors fled the scene probably realising what would happen if they faced this strong woman in the tournament. ‘The Red Eyed Demon’ was what they dubbed her as, ironically not even knowing she was a demon.

  Arcona went on her way and licked the blood on her hands clean as she made for the nearest inn…

  ***

  Sleeping wasn’t easy for Arcona. Her body was always restless and whenever she closed her eyes she could always see her childhood, which incited her blood to boil. She tossed and turned in her luxury bed but couldn’t relax and decided to go without another ‘good night’s sleep’. She held her forehead as she stared drowsily into her bedside mirror. The horns on her head resembled cat’s ears and even her eyes had a vertical pupil to some extent. The one feature she had that bothered her was her tail. It had sprouted during her early hunting days and seemed to have a mind of its own. The tail split about two thirds down and clearly indicated what kind of demon she was.

  I’m beautiful yet disgusting. I’m strong yet weak. What should I be doing? And why does this…always happen...

  Whenever Arcona looked into a mirror her thoughts went haywire, as if there was more than just her in her mind. It was like something was watching her, controlling her, and trying to communicate with her. Arcona always resisted these feelings and received painful migraines as a result.

  Another thing that bothered Arcona was this water that seemed to spontaneously drip from her eyes every time she looked at herself. The vision of the child she once was seemed to take her place and always looked back in disappointment at her. She knew not the name or meaning of this but got frustrated at trying to figure it out and ended up scarring her petite fists by punching the troublesome mirror. Arcona picked the bits of reflective glass out of her hand and headed out of the inn in search of some entertainment.

  The city seemed both desolate and lively at night. Some places were loud and others were quiet, making for a unique contrast of atmosphere in between. Groups of people would pass her, always in groups and never alone. Why are people always together? Arcona couldn’t understand the idea of wanting to be with another person. Others just brought her hate and pain, and the only thing she looked forward to was hurting someone.

  Thinking about pointless things made Arcona annoyed again until she saw a small creature that reminded her of herself. A black cat was prowling the dark streets and had stopped in front of her. Arcona bent down and inspected the little creature, which was unevolved in comparison to her.

  Why does this creature approach me? We are alike in so many ways yet so different.

  Arcona walked back to her inn after encountering the mysterious cat and was disappointed at the lack of entertainment and abundance of questions that kept arising in her conflicted mind. At least the tournament starts tomorrow…

  ***

  “And there’s the victor of the first match!”

  Arcona’s turn was up next, and she was excited to find out whether her opponent was strong or weak and her tail kept swaying as a result.

  The tournament was separated into four divisions with the winner of each battle staying in the arena. The last winner s
tanding in each division was automatically put into the next round and would be tasked with fighting the other winners one-on-one. The King fought the winner of the tournament for rule of the land; and was said to be the greatest honour.

  The giant steel gate ascended and Arcona strolled through with her weapon in hand. The arena had already seen plenty of action. Blood and body parts that hadn’t been cleaned up properly still littered the sandy grounds. The audience cheered all around the coliseum as Arcona entered, probably for her gruesome demise. In the centre of the coliseum was a large armoured human with a great blood-soaked halberd in his grasp.

  The nameless warrior saw Arcona’s puny size and laughed heartily in her face.

  “This one’ll be easy,” he joked.

  Arcona didn’t like being looked down on, especially by a human, it had happened enough in her life and was enraged at the nerve this insect had. The gates had just barely locked down behind her when she broke into a run and thrust her demonic broadsword towards her victim’s heart. Surprisingly her attack was blocked, but the warrior was clearly shaken by her speed and ferocity. He looked Arcona in the eye as he shielded himself with his halberd and began to tremble and take back his words, for it was ‘The Red Eyed Demon’ he fought.

  A swift high kick later, and the man was on the floor unable to move. A sharp wound was inflicted by Arcona’s steel spiked boots. They cut deep into his armour and pierced his shoulder. The man fumbled his weapon and was now begging for mercy after his shoddy display of combat. It wasn’t clear if Arcona was just possessed by her rage or if she was just going to kill him quickly anyway, but the match met a disappointing end as she retracted her blade from the gurgling corpse.

  The crowd was ecstatic at the recent bloodshed and went crazy for their new killer. They chanted her nickname ‘The Red Eyed Demon’ as they screamed happily. Arcona felt none of the joy everybody else felt and merely continued to cut down any that walked through the gate to oppose her. Needless to say she was victorious in her division and killed all but a few, who then fled at the sight of her, probably from the incident at the registration point.

  “Hopefully the weak perished in the first round,” Arcona thought as she waited for the next day sleeplessly.