Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Humans.
What a fascinating species.
Valroy loathed them as a concept on every conceivable level.
Well, save perhaps except for what they were capable of creating when they put their minds together in mass numbers.
Much like ants, he supposed. Tireless in their ability to reuse their surroundings to create fascinating workings.
Architecture. Artworks. Literature. False religion. Science. Technology. Music.
What he saw before him was no exception.
Ingenuity inspired by sheer desperation was its own kind of work of art.
For before him at the exit of the woods his meagre-but-plenty-deadly-enough-forces gathered sat a cobbled-together structure.
It had tents, lean-tos, and shelters from the bizarre weather that could not decide if it wanted to rain water, coins, or, most amusingly, human teeth.
But the encampment also had a rampart surrounding it that stood some ten feet high.
He could see humans standing atop it, posted as guards.
They had managed to construct it in a very short amount of time. It was hasty, sloppy, and ugly. But it was effective.
Much like ants, they were enjoyable to observe…and equally enjoyable to destroy.
The scent of their smoke and fear that carried on the wind was pure perfection.
Leaning against the tree beside him, he stood at the crest of what had once been a manicured suburban hill, now transformed by the merger into something far less mundane than what the humans considered aesthetically appealing.
The grass beneath his feet had turned the color of dried blood, and trees that sang discordant lullabies swayed in the breeze.
Below them, the human outpost sprawled like a wound across the landscape—their hastily constructed barricades, military vehicles that had been repurposed into mobile fortresses, and the pathetic flicker of fires made to beat back the darkness that surrounded them.
It would do nothing to aid them.
Their slaughter would be total. Whole. Unstoppable.
It would be a thing of true beauty.
Even with his lesser force, it would be more than enough.
Behind him, his forces gathered in the growing dusk.
Two hundred Unseelie had flocked to his banner the moment word spread that the treaty was broken.
Amongst them were constructs born from human nightmares, twisted things of shadow and hunger that had found substance in this new reality.
And even some strays from Earth who had decided his flavor of chaos and bloodlust suited them better—some were not precisely human, but mostly they were mortals who needed little excuse to pick up a weapon and point it at their fellow man.
Sadists and creatures whose hearts were full of hate enough to rival his own.
But all of them were met and united now under a single, glorious purpose—the systematic eradication of humanity's brief and foolish reign.
“My king,” Izael, the Duke of Bones, approached in his human form with the fluid grace that marked the snake for what he was, though his usual sardonic smile was notably absent. Instead, it was painted with a deep concern.
Bayodan and Cruinn joined him, lagging somewhat behind the typically manic, sadistic creature.
Valroy braced himself for what was liable to be a lecture. He sighed. “What is it, Izael?”
Izael bowed his head. “The scouts report the humans have established defensive positions along the ridge. And long-range projectile weapons. Mortars. Should we rethink our advance?”
“The guns will do nothing.” Valroy sneered. “Such wonderfully noisy toys. As for the ‘mortars?’ So be it. Do they truly believe lead and gunpowder will broker their success against creatures they cannot begin to understand?”
“Some of them have…adapted.” Bayodan's voice carried an undertone of unease as he gestured with his one remaining arm toward the outpost. “The more willful ones have learned to use their unconscious thoughts as weapons.
One of our advance scouts was torn apart by a construct shaped like a massive red…
cartoon dog. The human who created it didn't even seem aware he'd done so.”
“Fascinating.” Valroy folded his wings around him like a cape.
“Then they are capable of learning. Good. It would be terribly disappointing if they simply rolled over and died without providing any entertainment at all. I have waited centuries upon centuries for this moment. I do want it to be a little challenging.”
He turned his attention back to Izael, noting with growing irritation the way the Duke was staring at the defensive outpost with what looked like guilt. Or perhaps with the kind of disdain someone looked at a mountain he deeply wished not to climb.
How wonderfully predictable.
Izael was always soft on humans. If Valroy was fascinated by the creations of mankind, Izael was positively enamored of the filthy creatures themselves. He tried not to let his suspicions leak into his voice when he questioned the Duke of Bones. “Where is your wife, Izael?”
“Alex is…” The teal-haired Duke paused, then rolled his shoulders back. “Well, I’m gonna be blunt. In Unseelie years she’s about a week old. She felt uncomfortable being involved. She won’t work against us, but she won’t fight with us. Is that a problem, King Valroy?”
“No. Better she be absent than to have a potential mutiny at my back.” The statement was clear. And the threat was obvious.
And Izael was no fool, despite the fact that he preferred to play one in public. The Unseelie Duke’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “I serve you, and only you, Your Majesty.”
“How diplomatic. Which is also very not like you, snake.” Valroy smiled, and made certain his fangs were visible.
It seemed he was not alone in his reading of the situation.
A tense silence fell over their small group. Cruinn and Bayodan exchanged glances—not surprised, but clearly uncomfortable. They all knew that doubt among the ranks, especially from someone as influential as Izael, could prove more dangerous than any human weapon.
“Look. Boss.” He sighed, his shoulders slumping.
“You want me to be honest? Fine. There are human women and children sheltering there,” Izael said finally, his voice carefully neutral.
“Families. Ones perhaps better suited to be kept as cattle or pets. Not slaughtered or fought on the battlefield as if they were warriors. I get the desire to want to murder them all, trust me. But like this? Even the children?”
“Children grow. Children breed. And this war we fight is one for annihilation, or have you so soon forgotten?” Valroy countered, a pleasant smile spreading across his face.
“N…no, but—”
“If you have not forgotten that this war is about the total extinction of the human race, then what do you believe I should grant them?” He gestured wide with his hand toward the encampment. “What do you seek to gain from this entreaty of yours?”
“I. A chance to surrender.” The Duke grimaced. “If enslavement is off the table, fine. Then a quick and merciful death for those who—”
“Merciful?” The word came out as a purr, dangerous and amused.
Oh, this was absolutely delicious. “From creatures who have spent centuries mocking us? Destroying us? Who turned our sacred groves into shopping centers and our ancient places of power into tourist attractions?” Valroy took a step closer to him, noting with joy how the smaller fae’s teal eyes went just a little wider in fear.
“You speak of mercy as if it's a virtue, little duke. But it is against our very nature.”
“You speak of nature, but…I don’t think you know much about it.”
Valroy laughed dangerously. “I understand it better than you.”
“The Queen might wanna argue with that. Speaking of. Where is Abigail, anyway?” Izael lifted his chin in defiance.
It was not the first time the snake had stood in opposition to him.
It very well might be the last.
Valroy felt something dark and hungry unfurl in his chest. Around them, his gathered forces had gone preternaturally still, sensing the shift in their king's mood the way prey animals sensed the approach of a predator.
“Likely the same place as yours. Hiding in shame from the slaughter that she knows is inevitable. But she keeps her own council, I do not own her.” Valroy's voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.
He smiled, and this time there was nothing pleasant about it.
“But since you brought her up…tell me, Izael—did she send you to spy on me? To report back on my activities so she can plan her next move?”
“No.” But the denial came just a fraction too quickly, perhaps.
“No?” Valroy began to pace in a slow circle around the Duke of Bones. “Then perhaps you simply took it upon yourself to question me, your king, when I was finally about to achieve my true goal? You wish me to believe you speak out of turn, breaking loyalty with me, of your own accord?”
“I speak out of concern for the needless death.” Izael’s hands tightened into fists. “I haven’t spoken to your damn wife.”
“I see. Alexandra is not off speaking to her now at this very moment? Warning my lovely wife of my actions?” Valroy stopped directly in front of him, close enough that the duke would be able to smell the blood still clinging to his clothes from their earlier encounters.
“You merely disapprove of my methods. You think me too harsh, too unforgiving.
You believe there's some path forward that doesn't require us to choose between our victory and their extinction.”
“There might be,” Izael said carefully. “They might choose enslavement. If we could find a way to negotiate—”