A voice rose up, but not from the Ekreissar. Ceredon strained his eyes and peered into the throng of Dezren.
“Karak, Karak, Karak,” it began, a low murmur and nothing more. “Karak, Karak, Karak.” From his vantage point above it all, Ceredon could see what was really happening. A pair of young Dezren males was making the cries at knifepoint, threatened by humans dressed in the simple greens and browns of the elves. They raised their voices louder. “Karak, Karak, Karak!”
Darakken turned to face the downtrodden citizens.
“The nation of Ker must burn!” he shouted. “Unleash your vengeance on those who have surrounded your lands, pushing you deeper into your forests, hunting your game, betraying your lawful boundaries. By the sword, by the spear, and by the bow, slaughter my enemies and take these lands for your own. Join your brothers in praise. Your bonds will be lifted, and your emerald city will be set free if you pledge your love to Karak!”
“Karak, Karak, Karak!” echoed all the louder.
The demon leapt off the dais and stormed toward the Ekreissar. Now the chants were virtually deafening as the soldiers joined their voices with the desperate Dezren. Darakken tilted its head slightly, its eyes glowing faintly in the blinding sun, and winked at Ceredon. “Glory will be yours!” it shouted, turning around once more. “Prosperity will be yours! Paradise will be yours! Ker must burn!”
Then it began. The rangers in front holding staffs began to beat them into the ground, creating a cadenced beat, followed by thousands of voices. “KARAK, KARAK, KARAK!” shouted the crowd. Iolas fell to his knees, shouting the name of the deity along with the rest. Soon everyone in the courtyard was on their knees save Darakken, all with the same name on their lips.
The voices filled Ceredon’s head, squeezing his brain inside his skull. The demon then turned to face him again, holding its almost-human arms out wide in victory, baring its pointed teeth as the refrain was chanted over and over again.
“KARAK!”
“KARAK!”
“KARAK!”