The Black Widow Clan
written by Donnie Tweedie
Chapter Three
Thorak laid in the bed where the guards had their way with his mother. He couldn't help but let a tear run down his face as he looked up at the ceiling of the hut. He thought back when he was a child and when life was so easy. As he looked around the clutter and mess of a pity excuse for a house, he realized that this wasn't the life he would live. His mother had forced him to work for the general store to provide money for the family and he knew that when he had children, they would not have to go through the same thing he did. Even if he had to sell his soul.
The rain leaked through the mud thatch roof and the first drops fell right into his eye. He winced and leaned up to a sitting position. He thought of the death of his mother, the loss of his brother, who he knew he would never see again, and his upcoming court case before the Royal Court. The problem with the Royal Court was that there was no such thing as winning a case. You lost everytime when it came to disputes against the Empire. The damned Empire of corruption.
For once, Thorak did not cry. He felt no pain at all towards the death of his mother, who had sold his older sister years ago for money to provide him. He felt no pain towards the loss of his brother. He felt no pain to the Empire, only hate. He felt no sympathy for the poor who allowed the government to take advantage of them. Like Lidea Valadenia.
There was a sudden crack in the air outside and from where Thorak lay, he could already smell the sulphuric stench of one of the many Gates of Hakoror opening. He looked outside a small opening in the hut to see the gate. It was about fifteen feet tall and five feet wide, resembling a cat's eye. Filing out of the gates in a chaotic order were the demons of Hakoror, entering the material plane of existence.
Fire demons always came out first. These were humanoid creatures with large heads and dark burgandy skin, which resembled burned red leather. They thrashed around frantically in search for animals. They ran into the nearby woods and came out with rabbits, squirrels, and snakes, eating them maliciously.
The skeletons filed out next, with flames enveloping their bodies as the emerged from Hakoror. Then the demon trolls came out, and as they caught sight of the hut, they all charged for it. Thorak looked them stern in the eyes as they charged, swing wildly at the hut. Each swing was warded off by the magickal barrier protecting the house under His Power. Thorak scowled at this thought. The Emperor had used the Power to protect His people from the demons, but Thorak saw no point if you could just find a way to seal the gates.
Although he knew that this was considered impossible for any profession of any degree, he thought one day he might just learn how. He might just rebel against the dreaded Empire, fighting their swords with his. Fighting their Power with his own. Thorak looked up at a portrait of the Emperor on the hut's wall, a legal necessity in every household, and took a firestick to it. He watched the flames engulf the portrait, licking the ink and wooden frame. He noticed the fire took a keen liking to the Emperor, and he thought that was the way the Emperor should die. One man once said, "Fight fire with fire."
The courtcase wandered into Thorak's mind not but a few minutes later. He dreaded it, and knew there was no way he would ever be considered "innocent," if there even was a word in the Empire. If only he didn't have to face the Royal Court, the Empire, or see his brother's face again. The only reason he had been tried in court and not let go on account of self-defense was the fact that his brother testified to the guard against him. His own brother testified against him for protecting his mother. Thorak spit on the ground in his brother's betrayal.
"I will give you back your dues, Colith. I swear it by my blood." Thorak swore to the night...and the demons. They stayed outside, still unable to get more than ten feet close to the house. And at a ten foot distance, Thorak gladly took a nice stroll around the hut, enjoying the scenery. The chaos of the demons leaping around frantically without call or aim. The evil of the trolls and of the skelatons and other miscellaneous entities that gained embodiment on the material plane. They had no direction, no one to serve. They had no leader.