Tales of a Crimson Demon – Chapter 1

Beginnings

Selena Anik cursed to herself as she noticed a plume of black smoke billowing from the iron-cast pot she had hung over the cook fire. She had let the stew boil for too long and now it was burnt, and likely ruined. Burnt or not, however, she had no choice but to serve it. Her husband would be home from hunting soon, and he would be hungry. No doubt he’d be cross with her for ruining the meal, but he’d be even more cross if he returned to find no meal had been prepared at all, and she did not have the time to make anything else. It was just another small annoyance in the long string of irritations and nuisances that her life consisted of at this stage. At one point she had been happy in her marriage. But no longer. As of late the mere sight of her husband was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

She had loved him once, her ‘Blood-Stained Demon’. That’s what they had called him, though Grail Anik was his true name. During the war his name had been nigh legendary. Everyone knew who him. A monster of a sergal, deadly with a blade, cunning, and fearless, his fur not the typical shades of black or blue that was common amongst the Northern tribes, but rather a deep shade of crimson. Friend and enemy alike feared him. A demon he may have been. He had been her demon though, for the moment Selena first laid eyes on him she had felt her heart go aflutter, though whether it had been from love or terror she could not truly say.

She had been young and beautiful as well; newly flowered, though one would have been remiss to assume that female sergals were blushing maids. The females were no less fierce than the males, and Selena had been no exception to the rule. She was a soldier as well…and one of notable prowess. Her deep blue colored fur had possessed an almost indigo colored sheen to it, drawing the eyes of males and female alike. Many had lusted after her, though none had been foolish enough to try and take her by force. None except Grail, at least.

He had caught her alone and unawares…pinned her down and forced her legs apart with the intent of claiming her. It wasn’t an uncommon act; quite typical actually. Sergal were more prone to procreate in fits of passion and rage than they were in acts of actual love. It wasn’t unusual for a male to lay claim to a female by forcing himself upon her. Selena had fought, of course. In fact she had nearly gouged one of his eyes out. In the end though, he had been stronger.

She had cursed him as he took her. As time went on, however, the line between pain and pleasure had diminished, and soon enough her screams of rage had turned to moans of erogenous bliss. She lost count of the time and ways he had taken her that day. In the end, however, he had spilled his seed inside of her…and said seed had taken root. For better or for worse she and her unborn child had been bound to him. And he had consented to support them the best he was able.

He had been kind to her, in his own way. He had given her gifts. Trifles, really, though they had made her happy all the same. They had pleasured one another numerous times, though they had never quite been able to recreate the ferocity and passion of that first night. And then Selena’s belly had swollen. The child in her womb grew…and some months later she gave birth.

The newborn was a male, his fur a deep crimson and his eyes an almost hauntingly vibrant green. He resembled his father. They had named him Roan. Perhaps at one time Selena had loved him as well, though over time she had come to resent the child just as much as his father.

Shortly after Roan’s birth whispers began to circulate around the camp…rumors of a demon child. The Blood-Stained Demon had fathered a child, and Selena was the mother. She was responsible for bringing another demon into the world. Where she and Grail had once been respected, they were now shunned and feared.

During a battle with a Southern war chief, Grail had made a grievous error. He had underestimated his opponent…and while he survived the wounds he suffered as a result, he lost his sword arm, rendering him a cripple, and thus unfit for service. He had retired from the military, and Selena had been forced to do the same along with him. The two might have been great and one point but now they were just fallen warriors.

In the eyes of their peers, they were now next to useless. A sergal that couldn’t fight wasn’t a sergal at all, after all. Grail might have been able to ignore the insults, the slights, the hateful words and glances. Selena, however, had not.

Over the years she had come to hate Grail for what he had done to her. And she hated her child even more. She cared for him out of duty, but nothing else. Oftentimes she wondered if she would have been better off killing him at birth…though Grail likely never would have allowed her to do such a thing.

Eight years had passed. Roan had grown into a strong young lad, though somewhat quiet and reserved. It was no wonder. Selena showed him no warmth, and his father was absent most of the time. Unable to earn a wage on the battlefield hunting was the only alternative if he wanted to bring in enough food to support the family, and that left it to Selena to watch both the house and their child, a job she had come to hate.

Likewise his peers shunned him, or otherwise tormented him. Selena had made no efforts to step in and stop it. Let the child suffer the beatings. He would either toughen up or learn to tuck his tail and flee at the first sign of danger. As of late he was more prone to the latter…while he might have been Grail’s son he had yet to inherit his father’s inherent ferocity.

No doubt the scent of smoke had drawn the child from his room, for as Selena looked up from the burnt stew she noticed him creeping into the cooking area. She eyed her son with disdain, giving a slight sniff before turning her back once more. “Dinner’s ready.” She stated bluntly. “It’s burnt, but it’s all we have. I’d better not hear you complaining. I could just as easily send you to bed with an empty stomach.”

Roan curled his nose in slight disgust at the sight of the burnt stew, but did his best to hide his expression from his mother. “Yes, mother.” He replied quietly, serving himself a bowl before taking a seat in the corner, trying to stomach it the best he could, though the meal was nigh inedible. His mother had never been the best cook around, but as of late most of the meals she fixed were more like to leave him with an upset stomach or irritable bowels than actually nourish him. Occasionally she didn’t bother to cook at all, leaving Roan to fend for himself…though in all honesty he didn’t mind. He could roast meat easily enough, and it made for a better meal than the slop he was served most of the time.

Looking up from his meal, the young sergal regarded his mother quietly. Over the years he had grown rather accustomed to her foul moods and had learned different ways to avoid invoking her wraith, though on occasion it was unavoidable. “Will father be returning soon?” He inquired, finding himself looking forward to his return. While Grail might not have been the warmest of fathers, at the very least he didn’t look upon Roan with the same withering disdain his mother did. He had an odd way of showing his affection, though it was clear to the youth that his father cared for him far more than his mother did. He also knew that Selena wouldn’t dare strike him in his father’s presence.

“Who knows? That idiot could have gotten himself killed by a wild boar for all I care. Good riddance, I say.” Selena made no efforts to mask the venom in her tone. “Damn him to hell…saddling me with a useless child and then leaving me behind to tend to things like a common housewife. Who does he think I am?!” She hissed. Having her son ask about him was merely adding salt to old, festering wounds.

Roan suffered his mother’s ranting impassively. He had grown used to her cursing his father when he wasn’t around as well. He knew their relationship was tenious at best, and that they likely only continued to tolerate one another due to the fact that they needed one another. Selena needed Grail to hunt in order to bring in enough food to support them…and Grail needed her to tend to things while he was away. Their relationship was one of duty and necessity…nothing else. Even a child such as him could see that.

When he realized no news of his father would be forthcoming, the young male returned to his meal, eyes a bit downcast. “I see…” He muttered a bit noncommittally, trying not to let his disappointment show. It had been nearly a week and a half. Perhaps his mother was right and his father had died somewhere in the forests.

Selena made no response, glancing over at her son from the corner of her eyes, watching him. He was so passive…so weak. Grail hadn’t been around to properly teach his son how to assert or defend himself, and she had no patience for such things herself, preferring to let him learn his lessons on his own. Even so, she had no idea how he could be the son of the Blood-Stained Demon. While Grail had rebelled against his oppressors, Roan had withdrawn into himself.

He’d be better off dead. She thought to herself bitterly. When he’s drafted, the other recruits will rip him apart no doubt. Grail won’t be able to protect him forever. The more she dwelled on it, the more it disgusted her. She, Grail, and Roan…they were all disgraces. And she was the most pitiful of all, putting up with it day after day.

I could end it all right now. She thought to herself. Crush his puny little neck…squeeze the air from his lungs. No one would stop me. Grail isn’t here. Selena let the morbid thought creep into her mind, pondering on it for a few moments. A brought that demon’s child into this world…though that was no fault of my own. If I kill him here…destroy the little freak…maybe I’ll actually have a chance at getting out of this mess. I could kill him. Kill him and run. By the time Grail realizes his precious son is dead he won’t be able to do a damned thing about it.

By now Roan was noticing something didn’t seem quite right. His mother was strangely quiet. Normally when she started ranting and raving about his father she would continue for hours until she eventually exhausted herself and clamored into her bed to sleep, leaving him to fend for himself for the rest of the evening. Tonight, however, she had said nary a word to him. She just kept looking at him. He could sense a faint trace of madness in her eyes. The boys in town would give him similar looks before chasing him down and throttling him…though as of late he had learned to outrun them. He felt his heart give a nervous twitch in his chest. “…Mother?”

It all happened so suddenly Roan scarcely had time to react. One moment he had been sitting, the next he found himself pinned to the ground underneath his mother’s weight, one of her hands at his neck, fingers wrapped around his throat and crushing. He tasted blood. Shaking himself out from his daze the youth opened his mouth to cry out for help only for his voice to come out as a strained croak. Even if he was heard, however, he doubted anyone would come to save him. “Mother…why are you doing this…?” He managed to gasp out between his struggles for breath. “Please…stop…!”

Selena ignored her child’s pleas for mercy. If he could still speak clearly she wasn’t squeezing hard enough. Why was this so damned difficult? She had killed thousands of Southern soldiers like this on the field, all of them much stronger and more capable than her son. So why was she hesitating now? Roan flailed against her, trying to break free, though his feeble blows more irritated her than anything else. She tightened her grip, choking whatever words the youth might have tried to say next, her lips curled in a fierce snarl. “Shut up and die, you little monster!” She hissed. “You…you and that damned father of yours. You took everything from me!”

It was becoming harder and harder for Roan to draw breath. Each gasp sent a jolt of pain through his lungs…like he was trying to suck air in through a straw. He could feel his body growing heavy. His vision was cloudy. It was becoming more difficult to fight. His mother was stronger than he was that much was for certain. He had no hope of overpowering her. Just as he felt his consciousness begin to fade, however, the weight of his mother’s body was suddenly lifted off of him, and he could breathe again. Clutching a hand to his throat he let out a few ragged coughs before sucking in as much air as he could, mind still feeling hazy as he tried to make sense of what had happened.

He could make out a hazy outline of another figure in the room. One that looked vaguely familiar. “F-father…?” Yes…it was him. And from the looks of it he now had his mother in a stranglehold not that dissimilar from the one Roan had been in not seconds earlier.

Selena shrieked like a banshee, pounding against her husband’s chest with all her strength. “Let me go! Let me go, damn you! I’ll kill you!” The larger sergal’s grip against her neck was not so tight that she could not breath or scream. He kept her pinned easily enough, however.

“You…kill me?” Grail’s voice came out in a deep snarl…though he sounded vaguely amused as well. “Are you even capable of such a thing? I’ve always been stronger than you, Selena. We confirmed that the night I first took you. Even with one arm I’m more than powerful enough to stop you from murdering my son.” He chuckled darkly. “Though now I oftentimes wonder why I even desired you in the first place. You’re a pathetic, wretched creature. You practically threw yourself at me back when I was a soldier…and now that I’m a cripple you want nothing to do with me. Hell, I’m surprised I didn’t see this coming from a mile away.”

Selena grit her teeth together in a tight grimace. The fury and bloodlust had left her and now was quickly being replaced by fear. She knew the truth to Grail’s words. He could choke the life from her just as easily as she would have from Roan had he not intervened. Damn you…just a few seconds more and I would have…

Grail shoved her away with an expression of disgust. “You’re not even worth killing. Go. Get out of my sight.” He snarled. “And pray that I don’t find you again.”

Selena pulled herself to her feet with another hiss, dusting herself off with whatever semblance of dignity she had left. She knew better than to stay and fight though. Wordlessly she turned…and fled.

Still stunned, Roan simply lay there, trying to make sense of what had happened. His stared up at his father with a mix of fear, admiration, and awe, realizing that had his father returned even a moment later that he probably would not have been able to save him. Before he could say anything, however, his father turned to face him, fixing him with that same stern gaze.

“On your feet, boy.” He commanded. “We’re leaving too.”

Roan scrambled to his feet, still feeling a bit dizzy, though he seemed strong enough despite what he had just been through. “…Where are we going?” He asked.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Grail snarled in reply. “Pack up what food is left, gather whatever else you’ll need, and follow.”

Yelping a bit at his father’s harsh tone, Roan nodded and quickly set about following his father’s orders, knowing there was no use in arguing with him. He gathered up his pack along with a bit of dried meat, bread, cheese, and other food he could find. The pickings were a bit scarce, considering how long his father had been gone but there was enough to last them a few days at least. Poking amongst his things he considered what else he’d need, eventually settling on a few simple tools and his bedroll and leaving the rest behind. The youth briefly let his eyes glance over a shelf holding a few of his personal belongings; crudely carved wooden toys, strangely shaped stones he had found in the forest, a collection of feathers and animal fangs. No use taking them along…his father had ordered him to pack only what he needed and nothing else. Chances were they wouldn’t be returning to this place any time soon.

His father met him at the door. He had armed himself with most of his old weapons from his time as a soldier. His lance was slung in a holster across his back and he wore a longsword at his belt along with his hunting knife. He also carried the short yew bow he used for shooting game along with a quiver with a few arrows. It was enough to weigh most people down but Grail seemed to carry it all without difficulty. Seeing that his son seemed to be ready he gave a satisfied nod before turning to head off into the forest. “Alright…let’s go.”

Roan couldn’t say for how long they walked. It seemed like hours. By the time they finally stopped, the moon was high in the sky and every muscle in his body ached. He knew better than to complain though. They ate a cold meal of bread and cheese, saving the jerky for later. Roan figured his father would likely hunt some game as well, though for now they had enough supplies to last them.

As he sat by the campfire, pondering the night’s events, Roan’s eyes suddenly snapped upwards as his father tossed something in his direction. He instinctively reached out and caught it, looking down to find that it was a wooden stick of about three feet in length, carved into the crude likeness of a sword. His father was carrying a similar stick.

“Defend yourself, boy.” Grail commanded, swinging his stick down at his son with a decent amount of force, though it was clear he was holding most of his strength back. Even with his sword arm gone, the large male had a decent amount of strength in his off-hand as well.

Roan yelped, scrambling to his feet and bringing his own stick up in a clumsy block. He backpedaled away as far as he could, though his father came after him with an intense ferocity. He managed to stave off three more blows before his father’s stick caught him across the ribs, causing him to buckle over in pain. The next strike caught him under the chin, knocking him clear off his feet as he landed hard on his back with a groan of pain.

“Pathetic…” Grail groaned to himself, shaking his head. “Though I suppose that’s to be expected. I should have started your training years ago. Of course, that bitch mother of yours was no help.” He grumbled. “On your feet, boy. We’re going again.”

“W-what?! But we’ve been walking all night. Can’t we at least rest a bit first?” The answer came quickly enough as Grail’s stick cracked Roan between the eyes sharply.

“Don’t talk back to me, boy.” His father growled. “You may be utterly worthless at fighting now, but you will learn.” Catching the indignant expression on his sons face, he seized him by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him upwards, glaring into his eyes with a fierce expression. “If you expect me to coddle you, you’re sadly mistaken. It’s a merciless world you’ve been born into, boy. And if you want to survive, you’re going to have to toughen up.”

He released his grip on the younger male, folding his arms. “You won’t get any more sympathy from me than you will anyone else. To them you are a freak. A disgrace. An abomination that shouldn’t have even been born. I know…because I was the same as you when I was your age.” He growled. “The only way to change their perception of you is to make them fear you. Become a demon. Show no mercy, for you can expect none in return. Do you understand me, boy?”

“I…” Roan stammered slightly. “I think.”

“You will come to…one day. And you will thank me for this eventually, even if you hate me for it now.” Grail grunted. “Now…come at me. I will not tell you again.”

Swallowing a bit nervously, Roan nodded and picked up his stick, charging for his father with a clumsy blow. He was promptly knocked off his feet a second time as the older male rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

“Utterly pathetic. It seems we have a long way to go if I’m to make a proper warrior out of you…”

-11 years later-

Roan cracked his neck a bit loudly as he followed his new captain, wincing a bit as he was blinding by the fierce light of the setting desert sun. A dry wind blew past him, though it felt rather refreshing after being confined in a cell for nearly five days.

Leiv chuckled softly, giving the young sergal a pat on the shoulder. “You know…you really do resemble your father in a lot of ways.” He remarked. “Perhaps we’ll make a demon out of you yet.”

A feral grin crossed Roan’s features at this. “I certainly hope so.”