Daemon read in the shadow of the ancient apple tree of the manse garden, sitting on a knot as he went over the book his father had given him. Though, truth be told he had little need for shade given it was foggy with the mists swallowing the light, but Daemon still preferred the old apple tree as it was his place of comfort and peace. The garden was its own world with its explosion of color as many flowers bloomed, delicious fruits grew on trees and even scents flowed through the air, making the garden an olfactory feast. He also had a good view of the land commanding from the hill from where he sat, as it allowed him to see the forest and the settlements and fields that lay beyond. He also felt a kind of quiet strength in the mighty tree that had withstood storms and survived and witnessed many things throughout its life compared to Daemon’s life which had only known a decade.
“Daemon, your father is waiting on you,” a deep voice grumbled, interrupting his silence.
Daemon, knowing that voice, looked up to see Kobold, his dragon-like head looking at him with his yellow eyes. His father’s demon familiar, a red-orange scaled, horned beast with a crest going down his back, and strong limbs that ended in sharp claws. Powerful as well though Daemon never got to see them perform magic. It made for a terrifying visage though Daemon always saw it for a kindly face as the demon could show more warmth than his father, Valac.
“Can it wait a little bit?” Daemon pleaded.
“Your father is not disposed to wait on you. You can finish what you are doing later,” Kobold replied, the light reflecting off the silver collar in glyphs around their neck. “If your legs are tired, I will carry you on my back if you wish.”
“No, thank you, I think I’ll walk,” Daemon said.
Wistfully, Daemon put his book back in a brown leather bag and got up wiping any dirt off his red cloak, and followed Kobold back into his father’s manse through the garden and past the marble pillars, and down the marble hallway, past vases, statues of men and beasts made from marble and metal. Daemon passed black iron dragons with wings outstretched and heads darted forward to attack, and a marble warrior with broken bronze manacle on his wrists.
Windows of stained glass lined the walls bathing the white marble in reds, yellows, blues, and greens separated by dark shadows between panes.
Kobold led him the way as they made a left, and down stairs leading underground. Reaching the end of the staircase, a thick oak door banded in iron lay ajar to his father’s laboratory. They passed through the door into a large room with a table filled with potions, illustrations of anatomies of man, plants and diagrams of seals and instruments of various kinds. There were no windows with the only light being by torch. Apart from the door Daemon just came through, the only other door was at the end leading to a room Daemon had never seen as his father had never let him go inside. In spite of his young boy’s curiosity, he was never able to look because the door was always kept locked.
His father stood near the end of one table dressed in a black robe looking over a thick grimoire as his long white beard hung with the tip laying on the table. He looked up and faced them as he heard them coming in.
“Daemon, if you must learn magic, then I advise you to master the art of timeliness. The sun will not cease to move through the sky on your behalf,” he said with some sternness. He flashed a little smile to take the edge off.
“Yes, father,” Daemon said dutifully.
“Now, we are to take a lesson in necromancy,” his father told him, pointing to a snake lying dead on one table.
Daemon, like any son, was expected to follow after his father in his trade, and Valac just so happened to be a sorcerer. He had spent his lifetime learning all kinds of mystical and dark arts, and now wanted to pass his wisdom on. And fortunately, though ten years-old, Daemon proved to be a bright boy and a fast learner. Valac had taught how to create fire without flint as well as ice, creating light when none could be found and moving objects without touching them.
Beginning his lesson, Valac performed the incantation, and the snake came to life, moving its coils and baring its fangs at them with a hiss. The wound in its head that killed it remained visible and the smell of rot still clung to it.
“Necromancy allows you to take control of the body after life has left it though not the spirit, that is another thought not unrelated discipline. Once you have control over it, you have a useful slave at your disposal that does not need care for it does not eat, drink nor sleep,” Valac instructed. “Now, you try.”
Valac ended the spell, and the snake then fell back down dead. Daemon tried the incantation, and the snake stirred but did not get up. His father urged him to try again, but to focus. After a few more tries, the snake came to life again which won a smile of approval from his father.
“After this we will finally get to the related discipline of demonology,” Valac told him.
“What’s the relation between demonology and necromancy?” Daemon asked to which Valac replied “Dominion over life.”
Daemon heard Kobold sigh as they watched.
After the lesson, they enjoyed a dinner of roast pheasant with chunks of bread with honey, and buttered parsnips and fruits of apples, pears, plums and grapes prepared by a servant. They never wanted for food with all the villages and towns nearby paying his father homage, and Daemon did not know what services he provided in exchange for their homage nor did he ask.
“Father?” Daemon asked.
“What is it, my son?” Valac replied.
“Who is my mother?”
It was a question Daemon asked his father time and again. And time and again, his father would avoid answering the question. He would say he was busy, or he would answer “Another time.” Yet, another time never came.
“This again? Listen, Daemon, you have no need of a mother when you have your father to look after you,” Valac said, tearing a leg off the pheasant.
Daemon looked down at his plate in resignation with a sigh. He wanted to know his mother and perhaps she would answer his questions. Daemon knew he was a strange child with pale hair unlike any of the other kids he had seen, and he had yellow eyes and his teeth ended in sharp points as if the tops were filed. He didn’t even know any of the other kids given none came to his home, and when his father brought him along for business, the other kids tended to stay away from him. Daemon just wanted someone who could relate to him.
After dinner, Daemon laid on his bed thinking of the mother he never knew and what she may have been like. He wondered how old she was given his father was old, and he knew she couldn’t have been the same age given he heard older women couldn’t have children. She was likely younger, and he liked to think of her as full of life and warmth.
The next day, his father later gave him his lesson in demonology. The first trick was always to summon a demon, and that was by forming a seal on the ground. You had to make sure to take the demon’s name without giving your own. Knowing something’s true name gave you power over it.
The demon they summoned was a small creature the size of a cat with an imp-like body with a pair of wings. Its name was Azaze.
“Demons come in many shapes and sizes,” Valac said. “We are starting with this one, because he is on the lesser demons, among the lowest ranks. As you grow in ability, you will be able to master more powerful and dangerous ones, but for those you often need extra restraints.”
He motioned his head in the direction of Kobold who stood at the side watching silently.
His father compelled Azaze to do his bidding, and to demonstrate his control, he had the creature harm itself, biting its arms as black demon blood fell onto the floor to Daemon’s fright.
“Now, you try,” he told him with a nod of encouragement. Daemon had the poor demon get some bandages and ointment for his wound which he did. His father just laughed at that like that was the funniest thing.
Later that night, Daemon sat near the apple tree looking out at the garden. The moon illuminated the garden as its light reflected off the pond and illuminated the leaves of the trees that rustled in the breeze and the air waz punctuated by the sounds of bats. The fields of grain and villages stood out in the distance hidden behind the forest. Daemon was never allowed to visit there except when his father rarely brought him along. He occasionally thought of packing his backpack and setting off towards those places and meeting the people there. His father told him that people feared sorcerers though not without reason, and that was why the kids feared him even though he wasn’t even a sorcerer yet. Yet, Daemon would rather they did not fear him enough to be able to interact with him.
A shadow crept up behind him.
“Father?” Daemon asked given the shouldn’t didn’t look like Kobold.
“Abomination,” a harsh voice said that didn’t belong to his father. Daemon quickly turned around to find a large man, brown of hair and eye, skin leathery from working under the sun for years and sporting a scraggly beard. He wore a white wool tunic with a brown leather jacket and pants. Daemon’s eyes went to the large knife in his right hand which had the hairs standing on the back of his neck.
“Who . . . who are you?” Daemon said, being careful so as not to potentially set off the man. His father taught him spells that could help him in a situation such as this, but for some reason couldn’t think of them.
“I am here to free my village and all the others from that evil bastard Valac,” the intruder replied. “And from his demons and wights, and abominations like yourself. The world is best rid of such.”
The man swung his knife, but before it could reach Daemon, the man was knocked to the floor in a blur of red and orange. Kobold had the man on the ground as their claws tore into him, leaving his clothes in tatters and trails of blood on his skin, and the man struggled, trying to stab the demon but he could not penetrate the scale. Kobold grabbed the hand holding the knife in their sharp teeth and with a crunching sound followed by a scream, bit the man’s hand off.
“Daemon!” he heard his father calling, and saw his father rushing towards him, as fast as his legs would allow. He grabbed Daemon and held his face to his. “Are you alright?”
“I am father,” Daemon admitted, glad to see him. “Thanks to Kobold.”
His father turned towards the intruder, his mouth tight and his eyes squinted in anger, and commanded Kobold to leave him..
“Take Daemon to his room,” he commanded, with an anger in his voice Daemon had never heard before. “I’ll deal with him.”
Kobold with blood-stained teeth led Daemon away from the scene back into the manse.
“Thanks, Kobold. I owe you one,” Daemon told him as they turned a corner.
“Your safety is my priority,” Kobold replied.
A loud, piercing scream was heard behind them. Daemon turned his head, and saw the ground had been illuminated by light given off by the conflagration. Daemon looked back at Kobold with silence between them.
“It’s best not to look back, young master,” Kobold advised him.
“Who was he? Why did he try to kill my father and me? Why does he call me an abomination?” Daemon asked.
“He was a local man from the village who opposed your father. I will say nothing more,” Kobold said and urged him on to his room.
“But why--”
“Daemon, your father told me to bring you to your room, not answer your questions, and I must obey him,” Kobold said, though not unkindly.
The next morning at breakfast was a somber one. They ate with not a word passing between them as the incident last night hung in the air like a bad smell everyone refused to acknowledge. Daemon ate his eggs and fruit with bread and a side of bacon, looking at Kobold as they ate large hunks of meat though not at the table and cracked the bones to get at the marrow. The sight made Daemon queasy as he thought of the man when Kobold bit his hand off. His thoughts then turned to what he had said which bothered him.
Abomination. That was what he called him. Daemon wondered why the man thought him that and why he wanted to kill him. Daemon had never met the man before and done him no harm. It was just another question left unanswered.
Daemon turned to his father who met his gaze, but before he was able to get a word out, his father spoke.
“Daemon, I know you suffered a terrible fright last night. That man should not have been able to come up here, and enter the manse,” with Daemon hearing the anger in his voice. “I assure you it will never happen again. You need not worry about him ever again for he is dead, and can no longer harm you.”
His father put a hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the eyes in seriousness.
“It also underscores why it is so important that you pay attention to your lessons. The spells I teach you are in no small part to help you protect yourself, since I will not always be around. A spell worked can do more damage than a score of blades.”
“I tried . . . but I couldn’t think of a spell in that moment even though I know them,” Daemon said.
“You were taken by surprise, and in a situation I had not trained you for yet, but do not worry, you will overcome that eventually after we finish your current course.”
His father held up an apple in front of him. The apple then lifted into the air and floated aloft by some invisible force.
“That spell I performed last night, I had taught you. It incinerates anything it is used upon. Now, you try on that apple.”
Daemon looked at the apple, its color red like the color of his robes. Daemon made the incantation reciting upon memory, and the apple was consumed in a whoosh as the air punctuated with the sound of it’s juice and flesh sizzling with the smell of fire and apple.
“Remember that spell, as it just may save your life,” Valac said. “But for today, your next lesson is the endpoint of what I had been teaching you.”
“Necromancy and demonology, what comes after?” Daemon asked.
“Remember when you asked me what connected them? What did I tell you?” his father said.
Daemon thought. “You said it was dominion over life.”
“Exactly,” his father smiled. “You were learning to control life that already existed or once existed. Any king or lord can command a sword, but he cannot create one himself. That is what separates a sorcerer from such. You are going to learn how to create life itself.”
The lesson consisted of Valac teaching Daemon about what he called the Promethean arts, how new beings can be made from assembling parts together. That was the simplest route, his father explained, but a greater, albeit, more difficult route involved making life that was its own. Valac promised that one day he would be able to create his own creatures, beings mixed with the blood of man, beasts and demons.
“I was not joking before. A king can take life, but so can any man or beast. But the power to create life, that itself is the power of the gods. You yourself are above any man, my son, as am I” he promised.
Though it all sounded at once wondrous and terrifying, in truth, it wasn’t the most exciting of lessons with all the talk of anatomy, how different parts worked, the properties of different beings, but the talk of life made him think of his mother who had given him life and how his father refused to tell him anything about her, and compared to his mother, how little he knows about his father, about the man and how little he knows about the world outside their home.
Daemon went back to the ancient apple tree on the knot where he liked to sit. At night, with the tree to his back and the moon visible in the night sky as his only company, Daemon thought. The thoughts all made him angry. He was sick of all the secrets and tired of being perpetually kept in the dark. His father taught him many things, but he always refused to answer the questions that mattered to him most. Yet, if his father wouldn’t answer, who would?
Kobold, he realized. The demon had been serving his father since before he was born. Daemon hopped up, and made his way to the garden to the stable where Kobold slept. Kobold was found lying down in some straw. Kobold seemed to sense his presence as they lifted their head as Daemon approached.
“To what honor do I owe for you visiting me so late at night, Master Daemon?” Kobold asked courteously.
“Kobold, if I were to ask you to swear to me to do something, would you be bound to follow through on it?” Daemon said.
“I am bound by oaths and contracts. However, for me to agree, it depends what would you have me do?” Kobold replied, curious.
“Nothing over much, I just need help answering a few questions that I have,” Daemon said carefully. “Will you swear to answer them?”
Kobold considered it for a moment, and then replied “Very well, I swear to answer any questions you may have whose answers are within my knowledge. What are they?”
“Why does my father keep me here, never allowing me to visit outside?”
“Why to keep you safe, of course.”
“Why did that man who tried to kill me, mean us harm?”
Kobold paused, and for a moment, Daemon thought they wouldn’t answer. That is until Kobold sighed and finally said “Your father took control of the land a long time ago, using his sorcery. None of the villages wished to be under his yoke, but they had nothing to withstand him for none had any skill at magic. He dispatched their champions, and rules the land through his dark arts, demanding tribute and fealty from the local people, having them in thrall like he has me. The man was trying to put an end to his rule by likely sneaking into the manse and slitting his throat in his sleep.”
Dominion over life, his father’s words echoed in his head. He realized he should have known. The other kids stayed away from him, because they all feared his father. His father didn’t provide any service other than protection from his own spells. The weight of it hit Daemon like a stone, and he felt sad, angry and confused. Though, there was still one more question he had left that he felt he had to ask.
“Who is my mother?”
His question was met with silence as Kobold stared at him. Kobold got up, and then said “Follow me.”
Kobold led Daemon back into the manse, and as Daemon looked back he saw lights in the forest, which he dismissed as fireflies. Inside, Kobold led him down the hall to the staircase into Valac’s lab.
Kobold led him on and stopped before the locked door.
“I know you know a spell that can open it,” Kobold said.” The one you performed at breakfast today.”
After some hesitation, Daemon performed an incantation and aimed it at the lock. The lock melted onto the ground before them. The door swung slightly ajar.
Kobold opened the door to complete darkness. Daemon grabbed a torch, and entered after Kobold. Illumination by the torch revealed a chamber filled with giant vats lining the wall. The vats were filled with a kind of fluid as some of it leaked onto the stone floor.
As Daemon came up to the one vat, something caught his eye. He saw a demonic-looking creature. It was the size of an infant, but covered in black scales and spikes going down its back as its yellow eye stared out at him, the pupil retracting in the light of the torch.
He came up to another vat saw what looked like a wolf crossed with viper and demon, fur-like bristles covered scales with yellow eyes with pupils being narrow slits with dots in the middle and a mouth filled with jaws with pronounced fangs filled with venom and a long serpentine tail.
Another vat showed a kind of monstrosity with a long armored carapace with a pair of wings like a bird’s only in place of feathers were transparent insect wings spanning it. The head had a pair of large mandibles and claws that could crush bone and a tail that ended in a deadly stinger.
“Why did you bring me here? What is this place?” Daemon asked. He didn’t know that he liked this place.
“What is this?!” Daemon heard a voice yell, but it wasn’t Kobold’s. He turned to see his father standing in the doorway. Valac gave an ugly look at Kobold.
“You brought him here?! I warned you long ago there would be consequences if you disobeyed me,” Valac hissed.
The glyphs on the collar on Kobold’s neck glowed red then white. Kobold gave out a cry of pain, and fell to the ground on their back, writhing in agony. It was the most horrible sight Daemon had ever witnessed.
“Father, please stop, it’s not his fault. They did what I told them!” Daemon said.
Valac stopped. He turned his attention back at Daemon.
“What is this place and what is it to do with me?” Daemon demanded. Valac stared at him as his eyes darted to the vats and back at Daemon.
“It is where you were born,” Valac said slowly.
“What do you mean?” Daemon asked.
“I had reached a point in my life where I had realized I needed an heir and a pupil to pass down all I had acquired and all of my knowledge. However, I did not wish to waste time finding a wife, especially now that I was old, and I did not need one, for I had acquired the secrets to making life myself long ago. I also wanted to create the ultimate sorcerer, a being of my blood greater than any man,” he began as he moved closer to Daemon. “Using my flesh and blood, and that of a demon, specifically a powerful demon like Kobold, I gave life to my greatest creation: you.”
“My . . . my mother?” Daemon asked though he felt he already knew the answer.
“You don’t have a mother. You never did,” Valac said.
Daemon felt the tears pour down warm against cheeks. He could hear the man’s voice echoing inside his head. Abomination. That was what he had meant.
“Am I just meant to be a thrall too like Kobold? The people?” Daemon said, his throat now hard.
“No, no,” his father reassured him. “You are my heir. My legacy.”
My son, Daemon thought his father meant to say.
“Why do you hurt them?”
“The people? They need a father’s strong hand, and I keep order. The times I do discipline them, it is because it is necessary,” Valac said.
As he said that, the sounds of many voices joined in unison could be heard. Valac looked up at the ceiling with the concern being written on his face.
“Come with me,” he told Daemon. He urged him as he went forward to the stairs.
Daemon walked with Kobold by his side. He turned to Kobold, eyes still red. Kobold returned his gaze with a look of sympathy.
“Kobold . . . is that what I am, an abomination?” Daemon said.
“You are part human and part demon, neither of which is an abomination. Nor are you one by your actions,” Kobold answered.
As they climbed the top of the stairs, the noise grew louder. As they made their way down the hall towards the main entrance the sound of the mob grew louder. The door at the main entrance shook with regularity as it was rammed from the outside.
Valac looked at the sight with his eyes wide and his mouth open at the sight. He heard different shouts of “Death to the sorcerer” and “Free ourselves.” Valac’s face then shifted as his mouth grew tight and his eyes narrowed.
“I will not be assaulted at my own house,” Valac said firmly. “Daemon I think it is time you learned how to use what I’ve taught you. Kobold, you come as well.”
Valac strode forth to confront the mob, each step being deliberate. Daemon reluctantly followed.
With a wave of both his hands, the doors came open. On the other side of the doors, could be seen a group of men holding a large trunk fashioned into a battering ram. Surrounding them were others, men and a few women, holding hoes, rakes, axes, torches, some with bows and arrows and several had swords though they were old. They looked upon Valac with faces of both fear and hatred.
“There he is, even his magic cannot stop all of us,” shouted an older man dressed holding a pitchfork.
The men dropped the ram and picked up their weapons on the sides while others made for the door. Valac whispered some words, and great wind erupted from him blowing the rebels back many feet while others further back in the mob were staggering. One man was blown against a tree with the trunk shattering his back.
Valac strode forward. A huntsman pulled an arrow from his quiver, and strung his bow, taking advantage of the clear shot. The arrow flet forth in the air, and Valac raised his hand and the arrow stopped in mid-air. With a wave of his hand, the arrow flew back in the direction it came. It flew straight into the huntsman’s eye, and he fell to the ground dead.
Valac then turned his attention towards the first people in front. There was a great whoosh of blue flame as they were incinerated, their eyes popping out of their skulls, and the blades on their tools and weapons melted leaving half-ashen corpses. Other members of the mob pulled back from the sight.
Daemon looked on in horror at the man ruthlessly dispatching the people, the father he had known. The smell of burnt flesh brought back the man from the other night. Abomination. Was this the legacy he was created to uphold?
“Daemon,” his father now spoke to him. “It is time for you to put all that I taught you to use.”
Daemon looked at him with heaviness in his heart and he looked back at the crowd. They all looked back at him with their eyes open in fear like man. Daemon remembered how he felt and how afraid he was. The people feared him.
He knew what he needed to do. Daemon raised his hands and used the spell his father had shown him earlier. There was a whoosh of flame.
The collar around Kobold’s neck glowed red and melted into pieces onto the floor. Kobold, showing surprise and relief at the twisted remains of the collar, turned to Daemon with a look of gratitude.
Kobold then baring their teeth in a growl, looked at Valac who looked back in alarm.
“Daemon, what have you done?” he said. Kobold darted for him with their mouth open filling with purple energy. Valac raised his hands to perform another spell, but Kobold brushed it aside.
The purple energy poured forth as Valac gave a scream as his skin turned black and frail, the flesh under his skin retreated. He grew darker and skinner until he fell to the ground.
The mob stood stunned, and looked at Kobold, afraid to even approach the deadly demon, fearing them as they once did the sorcerer lying lifeless on the ground. Kobold turned their head away.
Daemon approached the body. Beneath the black cloak, he saw a blackened corpse with skin stretched over his skeleton. People from the mob cautiously came over to view the body as well after it became clear the demon had no interest in them.
“He’s dead,” a woman wielding a hoe and with a leathered face said. “HE’S DEAD!”
A cry went throughout the mob. Some hugged each other, others cursed the corpse and some danced. The days of Valac’s rule were over. Daemon did not take part.
Daemon stood looking at them, and then back at the man who had been his father. Valac may have been a cruel tyrant, but he was still his father, he had given Daemon life and raised and taught him. Daemon was sure that Valac had even loved him, he must have. Daemon bent down and closed his eyelids. He owed him that much.
As the mob went through the manse, to loot it of anything of value, Daemon stood alone, staring into the night, wondering where to go from here. His home was gone, his father was gone and he didn’t know why he was still here. It was a lonely feeling.
“Daemon, I can carry you on my back if you’re feeling tired,” Kobold offered.
Daemon gave a lingering look at Kobold for a moment.
“I would appreciate that, thank you,” Daemon said. He got onto Kobold’s back, and he was carried off from the hill.
As Kobold led them out into the night, Daemon couldn’t believe that Valac said he didn’t have a mother.