Legacies Read online

  Legacies

  Patrick Stewart

  Copyright © 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the rights holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Disclaimer

  This book is intended for a mature audience.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 1

  It was a warm summers evening. Martial sat upon his large black stallion, a sheepskin flask of wine in hand, he rode gently down the road, heading towards Coldstream, a small settlement that was formerly on the border of what were known as the countries of England and Scotland.

  It was now at the border between the human and demon territories.

  The world had changed a lot in the past three hundred years. It was like living in a parallel universe, a really fucked up one with demons. Martial took a swig from his flask. The wine was warm, which was never good. But it did keep him feeling relaxed. He smiled.

  That smile turned into a frown as he spotted smoke rising in the distance, beyond the evergreen trees that grew on both sides of the road.

  Martial gave a gentle tap with his left leg against the horse. His stallion broke into a slow trot. Nothing more was necessary. If there was a fire, it meant the humans were already dead, and the demons were on their way either back to their hideout, or onto the next farm to pillage, rape and murder.

  As the stallion turned around the corner, and the trees gave way to flat farmland, the farmhouse came in view.

  It was one of the older farmhouses, made from redbrick left un-rendered, a gabled roof and a chimney on one side. The smoke wasn’t coming from the chimney. It was coming from the barn beside the house.

  Standing outside the farmhouse were three demons, two were blue in colour, the third was red. They stood with their backs leaning against the low wooden fence that surrounded the property.

  Martial continued at his pace and took another gulp of his wine. As he came up to the path that led off the former motorway and down to the farmhouse, he stopped.

  “What up fellas,” Martial waved at the demons.

  The three demons turned to look at him.

  Martial reached into the leather bag that rested from his saddle and pulled out a red apple. He bit into it as the demons stared at him.

  “What are you guys doing here?” Martial asked. “This is human territory. Belongs to-” he paused as he struggled to remember which Queen ruled over this godforsaken land. “Can’t remember,” he muttered. He took another bite of his apple. “You guys lost?”

  “We’re not lost, human,” the red-skinned demon growled. “You must be drunk or stupid to stop. You should flee on your horse while you still can.”

  Martial continued to eat his apple as he watched the demons before him. They were all fairly big, over six feet in height, two of the demons had small horns on their heads. They wore leather jackets and leather pants. Demons loved leather, and always seemed to dress in a similar fashion. By their waist, they carried sheathed swords.

  Pretty standard outfit.

  Missing a leader.

  Martial finished his apple and threw away the core before he jumped down his horse. He landed on the ground, his feet unsteady from all the wine, he held his hands out, as if balancing on a tightrope. And then, confident he wasn’t going to fall, he walked towards the gate.

  There was confusion showing in the demons’ eyes. No doubt they were wondering what the fuck this drunk guy was doing walking casually towards three demons standing in front of a burning barn. Probably answering their own question as they asked it. Drunk. The guy was drunk.

  One demon reached for his sword and pulled it out. The blade was grey and rusty.

  As Martial came to the gate, he stopped. “Cynthia,” he said, triumphantly.

  “What?” the red-skinned demon asked.

  “Queen Cynthia,” Martial repeated. “This land belongs to Queen Cynthia, right?”

  The demons shook their heads.

  “This land is ruled by Queen Margaret, but not for long.” The red-skinned demon nodded at the flask by Martial’s waist. “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Ah, yes,” Martial lifted the flask to his lips and tilted it up. There were only a few drops left inside. “I’m out,” Martial announced. “You guys have any wine on you?”

  The red-skinned demon stepped away from the other two and towards him. “Today is not a good day for you, human.”

  Martial placed his hand against the wooden pole of the gate. His body was about to lean on it, but his hand slipped. Martial managed to steady himself before his face hit the ground, but the demons roared in laughter regardless.

  From beyond them, coming from the farmhouse, Martial heard noises. There were still humans alive inside. Or at least one human. A girl.

  Martial kicked the wooden gate with his foot. As it swung open, he stepped inside. He was now a foot away from the demon.

  “I’m going to need you to get out of my way,” Martial said. “I’m here to save the humans.”

  “You must be stupider than-”

  “Tony,” a blue demon called from behind.

  “What?” the red demon looked back, annoyed.

  “He’s tall…”

  “So?”

  “What if he’s a Legacy?”

  “What the fuck is a legacy?” Tony, the red-skinned demon yelled.

  “The children of Immortals.”

  Tony looked up at Martial. For the first time, there was doubt in his eyes. He took a step back, and his hand rested on the handle of his sword sheathed by his waist.

  “Are you?” he asked.

  “Am I what?”

  “Are you a Legacy? A child of the Immortal humans?”

  “I don’t know about all of that,” Martial grinned. “But I do happen to be quite famous. Maybe you’ve heard of Martial the Great, the Killer of Bone Skull, the Victor of Manchester, the Destroyer of Trojan?”

  The three demons exchanged glances, before they looked at him, all three slowly shook their heads.

  Martial sighed. “Seriously guys? Martial the Great?” he repeated.

  There was nothing there in the demons’ eyes, no sign of recognition. Just empty darkness.

  Surely by now someone must have heard of him. He basically bragged about who he was to pretty much anyone and everyone that would
listen, in every town and village and sometimes even to strangers as he passed them on the road. What more did he need to do to get the fearsome reputation he so surely deserved?

  “What’s going on here?” he nodded at the burning barn and the farmhouse from which came the sounds of a girl screaming, of objects hitting the walls and floors. “You got a demon in there trying to rape a human?”

  All three demons now had their swords drawn. Rusty bits of metal, the blades blunt. They stayed where they were, which meant they weren’t very powerful demons. If they had been, they would have attacked him before he had the chance to even drunkenly drop from his horse.

  “You boys don’t want to fight. I can see you’re scared. I’m kind of a nice guy, and normally, I’d let you run away. But,” he nodded at the farmhouse again, where the sounds of objects being thrown had stopped. “I’m guessing you murdered her parents, and your boss is raping the girl right now?”

  The demons exchanged glances once more, uncertainty mixed with confusion in their eyes.

  “Yeah, I’m going to have to kill you,” Martial announced.

  He pulled out his own sword sheathed at his waist.

  It was a gorgeous sword. The handle was black, with lines of gold swirling from the guard to the pommel. The blade was made of Falician Steel. It was a rare metal on earth, taken from defeated demons that carried black blades from Hell that had been hardened by the human souls of the damned. It had been fused with high carbon steel. The edge of the blade was always sharp. It never required cleaning, or sharpening.

  Seeing his sword, a blue demon turned and fled into the farmhouse. Martial moved quickly. His sword sliced the head clean off Tony, the red-skinned demon. The remaining blue-skinned demon came at him, roaring. Martial turned sideways, moving out of the demon’s way and as he passed, he drove his sword into the demon’s back.

  He pulled the sword out, and as the demon dropped to his knees, Martial swung, aiming for the neck, he sliced it off clean.

  Martial walked towards the farmhouse and stopped at the broken-down door. He leaned against it, breathing heavily, his head spinning.

  Goddammit.

  He needed more wine.

  There should be more of that inside the house.

  He walked down the darkened corridor and came to the living room. Once upon a time, a room like this would have had comfortable sofas and a large flatscreen television on the wall. But now, it had a single wooden rocking chair in one corner. Beside the fireplace, there were logs piled. In the centre of the room was a table.

  On the table, lying naked, was a girl. She stared at him with eyes that had run out of tears. Holding her legs apart was a demon with red skin. Martial glanced around the room, his eyes searching.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the demon growled.

  “Martial the Great,” he replied. “I thought your demon buddy would be here somewhere. He ran into the house…” Martial shook his head a few times, his eyes blinking rapidly, he stared at the girl, trying to focus. “Do you have wine?”

  “…I… no?” she replied, her lips quivering.

  Fuck.

  Martial staggered into the room and with one hand pressed against the wall, he made it to the rocking chair, which he slumped down on. His head was beginning to ache. He needed more wine.

  “What… what the fuck?” the demon growled.

  “Oh god… put some fucking clothes on man. That,” he pointed in the general direction of the demon’s naked waist. “No one wants to see that.”

  The demon stared at him, his face contorted with rage, he bared his teeth. They were sharp, like those decorating the jaws of sharks. He hissed, then leant down and picked up his sword from the ground. He stomped towards Martial, the wooden flooring creaking beneath his weight.

  Martial moved his head to the left, and the demon’s sword imbedded itself in the wooden frame of the rocking chair. The demon pulled the sword free and swung it, aiming for Martial’s head. Martial rocked forward in the chair, the sword sliced over his dark hair. As the chair rocked back, Martial sliced with his own sword.

  It cut through the demon’s stomach. He dropped to his knees. His sword fell out of his hand and hit the ground with a clang. The demon pressed his hands against his stomach as blood dripped out, trying to hold in his entrails.

  Martial remained seated on the rocking chair, his eyes on the demon. “Does it hurt?”

  The demon looked at him, fear in his eyes, his body shaking.

  “Are you afraid?” Martial asked.

  He climbed to his feet and stood over the demon. His sword in hand, he stared down as the demon stared up at him, fear in those black eyes, the demon’s mouth hung open, but no words came out.

  Martial raised his sword and pressed it against the head, just above the demon’s ear, the edge of the blade touched the ear.

  “I asked questions,” Martial said. “You haven’t answered… maybe you’re deaf… in that case, you won’t need your ears.”

  Martial moved his sword down slowly. With his ear being cut off slowly, the demon finally found his voice. He screamed in pain. It was a loud ear-splinting sound, more so for someone who was trying to hold back a hangover by constantly drinking.

  Martial drove his sword into the demon’s mouth and out through the back of the demon’s head.

  “Fucking cunt,” Marital cursed as he pulled his sword out.

  As the demon body hit the ground, Martial stared at the girl lying on the table. She was naked. She had large round breasts with small pink nipples. Her legs were spread apart, yellow hair just above her cunt. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she stared at him.

  “Hi,” Martial held his hand out. “I’m Martial the Great, and I just saved your life.”

  Chapter 2

  Coldstream was a small settlement by the bank of the River Tweed. It was nestled amongst trees, and beyond it, surrounded by farms. It was a walled settlement. The walls were made form a mixture of brick, stone and wood and surrounded the settlement on three sides, the fourth side backed against the River Tweed.

  Cassie sat at the top of the church tower, staring out towards the bridge that crossed the River Tweed. A relic from another time when humans worshipped God and feared the devil, the church tower was the tallest building in the settlement.

  Having been deserted for hundreds of years and surrounded by graves, it was also the creepiest building in the settlement.

  Cassie was born long after the world changed, after established religions spanning thousands of years were abandoned overnight in their billions as demons crawled out of Hell, as angels soured down from Heaven.

  The Two-Hundred Year War, it was known as.

  Humans fought demons and angels. Demons fought humans and angels. Angels fought demons and humans.

  When it was finally over, two hundred years later, a treaty was signed by the kings and queens of the land with the demons and angels.

  A hundred years on, the treaty held, mostly. There were the occasional border skirmishes but nothing too serious in the grand scheme of things.

  But of late, it seemed larger numbers of demons were beginning to ignore the treaty. Little hordes of demons regularly crossed the borderline and into human territories, raping, killing and pillaging.

  Coldstream was now the furthest human settlement north of the country. It hadn’t always been. Until very recently, that title was held by Polwarth.

  Polwarth was bigger than Coldstream. It was an actual town. It had been under attack from marauding demons close to a year before the town vacated. Prior to that, the mayor sent plenty messages to Immortal Queen Margaret, begging for support. Those messengers had passed through Coldstream, reliving the tales of horror.

  But the Queen sent no troops to fight back the demons.

  Some of those that fled Polwarth stayed in Coldstream, but most headed for Newcastle, the capital of Queen Margaret’s country.

  In the past year, the demons were getting closer to Coldstream. The chie
f of the settlement sent out his own messengers to the Queen. But none were able to get an audience with her. The message was left with those in the palace. And despite long passages of time, no reply was ever received.

  Evidently, the Queen had other more urgent matters to deal with.

  Cassie wondered what could be more urgent than demons invading their land. There were reports that Polwarth wasn’t the only town that had fallen to the demons. All along the border, small groups of demons were moving in, attacking, murdering, burning before fleeing back across the border.

  The Queen’s Border Patrol that was supposed to patrol the borders, to keep demons back. Usually, they could be spotted riding around on their magnificent horses, wearing chainmail, some carrying long spears.

  But it had been over a year since Cassie had last seen a member of the Border Patrol.

  Coldstream was a small settlement. Under normal circumstances, with demons roaming the area, they would have packed their bags and fled.

  But the settlement hadn’t folded.

  Not yet, anyway.

  There was word of a man moving around the area, going from settlement to settlement along the border with the demons, dispatching the demons and keeping the settlements safe.

  That man was on his way to Coldstream.

  Though there was no direct mention of the word, Cassie knew the man was a Legacy.

  Legacies.

  They were the children born of Immortals.

  Immortals were humans that never died of natural causes. They never aged beyond their prime years, always looking like they were in their early twenties, despite some allegedly being a thousand years old.

  They were tall and beautiful, but more than that, they were strong and fast. Immortals could punch a hole through a wall with their bare fist. They could jump up a hundred feet, and their skills with the sword was legendary.

  It was the Immortals that had stopped the fall of humanity. When the demons poured up from Hell, and the angels came from above, humanity was caught by surprise.

  It was said that in those days, almost three-hundred years ago, humanity had advanced technologically.