A Darker Shade of Sorcery - - (leveled readers .txt) 📗

He saw Evan staring.

“Real arm got ripped off by a biomech werewolf in the Space-shifter wars,” he grunted, only serving to confuse Evan more.

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In his other hand he was holding a bundle of clothes. He pulled one set apart and thrust them in Evan's face.

“Greetings, Mashok. I’m Arnvar.”

“Uh, wh…Mashok?” Evan stumbled over his words.

“It's an old Venator word, roughly means friend. Here’s your uniform, put it on,”

Arnvar said briskly, before turning to bang on the door opposite.

As he dressed, Evan observed his bedroom in daylight for the first time. His window overlooked purple grass fields, full of Venators already in training. The room was fairly bare, Evan guessed it was his job to customize it. Two of the only furnishings were the paintings above his bed. Judging by the plaques beneath, one portrait was of a past Venator. The other painting (a pink sea with a whale so large it had a city on its back) was the view of another world.

The Venator’s plaque read: Kyla Stray- who single-handedly held back the demon invasion of Venice in 1801, slaying the monsters one by one as they emerged from their portal.

Evan noticed the portrait images faded every so often, being replaced by other paintings of former Venators and worlds, similar to the digital picture frames he’d seen in shop displays.

Evan knew he’d never live up to the deeds of any of the Venators in the ever-shifting portrait. The deeds every one of them had performed were mind-boggling.

Once he’d dressed and stepped into the hallway six other Novices were outside chatting. They, unlike Evan, probably hadn’t arrived yesterday and were used to this ritual.

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A girl emerged from the room next to Evan’s. She had dark gold skin, long legs and big brown eyes. Evan had the intense feeling that he knew her, yet he was sure he’d never seen her before in his life. He couldn’t explain it.

Strangely, she appeared to recognise Evan too, as she asked. “Have we met?”

Before Evan could reply, a very rotund man who, bizarrely, had cat-whiskers, swept into the corridor.

“Oh no, Arnvar, Brooke’s for magical training first,” the man interrupted.

Arnvar grunted again before signalling for Evan and the others to follow him.

Sunlight bled into the hallway from the various windows as they set off. Evan peered outside and saw it was the crack of dawn.

Out of Castle-Coterie they went, travelling across a wide cloister and over a bridge that led to another castle.

“Go on to the courtyard,” Arnvar said to the others. “Umbra, with me.”

Arnvar led Evan to a separate dome-shaped tower adjoining the castle. Curiously the door was a jelly-like substance.

“For security,” Arnvar grunted.

As Arnvar passed through the viscous entrance, the transparent jelly disintegrated.

“If one of you children tried sneaking in here without a master, you’d stick to the door until we freed you. So don’t get any ideas.”

As Evan entered the tower he found himself trying to look at everything at once, his head darting from side to side.

A literal labyrinth of weapon racks filled the interior, with pathways between them stretching for miles. Evan couldn’t take his eyes off the magnificent armoury.

“You’ll find anything here,” said Arnvar, “from magical grenades, to plasma daggers or steam-blaster pistols. You can choose something to augment your own

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sorcery, like a gauntlet of power or a staff. Or you can select a weapon enchanted with its own power. I’d recommend something like our ice-bomb launcher or machine-bow if you like ranged combat, but you may prefer close combat.”

Evan nodded. “I get to take one? How do I decide?”

“Venators must rely on their instincts. Whichever weapon you feel you should have is the right choice. This doesn’t mean you can’t use other weapons on missions, but the one you choose now will be yours to keep.”

This is so cool. Excitement bubbled through Evan’s body, but there are so many to choose from.

Luckily the weapons had labels underneath. Evan examined a spear enchanted with a paralysis spell as well as an axe that could split into two smaller axes. A mace that shot its own spikes at the enemy before growing them back again, to a sword which was invisible to everyone except the holder, so the enemy didn’t stand a chance.

But it was the section of weapons that appeared to be carved out of crystal which caught his eye.

“As some demons have flesh tougher than steel, we use enchanted weapons or ones crafted from the sorcerous crystal Eldalye.” Arnvar said. “As you’re only a novice the enchantment strength on the weapons will be limited for now.”

Evan found himself mesmerized by one crystalline weapon in particular, a long-sword carved out of emerald Eldalye, with markings that looked like black lightning down the side. The label said the blade was named Ruaden and was crafted by star elves.

Evan noticed a tiny dial on the hilt too. “What’s that?”

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“Ah, this is one of our weapons with a transmutation switch. The long-sword you see now will shrink in size the more you turn the dial, so you can keep it sheathed as a dagger if you want, or use it as a short-sword instead.”

“Amazing!”

“Now, every one of our weapons has a built-in enchantment to cut spells,” said Arnvar.

“Cut spells?”

“When you find yourself battling a Dark-Venator or a monster who can cast magic, our weapons themselves can disrupt an enemy spell. For example, if someone threw a fireball your way you could slash it out of the air. If it’s weak magic, the fireball would disintegrate. If it’s a stronger spell you would cut the fireball in half instead.

Now, are you sure that’s the weapon you want?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” Evan picked Ruaden up.

At once a rush of power and confidence surged through him. Being bullied and depressed for most of his life, he’d never felt those two emotions before. With this sword he actually felt for the first time that he could do this. Right now demons weren’t something to be scared of, he could do it, he could fight them, destroy them.

Arnvar smiled, revealing a false tooth carved out of ruby. “You chose well.”

He handed Evan a leather scabbard.

“You may keep your weapon in your room or sheathed at your belt but never use it, until we deem you ready. It’ll be a test of willpower. If we catch you wielding that sword before you’re trained it shall be taken from you for a long time. Understand?”

Evan nodded, sheathing his new sword and clipping it to his side. He’d felt so nervous about Veneseron before, but the weapon had given him a boost of confidence.

“C’mon then, let’s get you to training.”

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Arnvar led him to the biggest courtyard yet, as large as three football fields put together. Many Mid-Realmers were sparring competitively with a startling array of magical weapons. Evan’s gaze fell on the massive form in the middle of the courtyard. He jabbered incoherently, pointing at the huge monster, sure it was another demon.

Arnvar hastily informed him to, “Sssh and stop pointing. He’s just an orc.”

Just an orc!

The colossal brute was beyond intimidating, with muscles which made Tarensen’s arms look like twigs. He had yellow eyes and brutal, smashed features composed mainly of a low-hanging brow. His skin was a mottled green-grey and covered in piercings. There was a gold ring in his nose, another in his eyebrow and three in each pointed ear that stuck out above his bald head.

A chunk of his left ear appeared to have been ripped out, and most frightening of all, two large tusks poked out of his bottom lip.

The orc stood facing the Venators in training. On the wall behind him hung an assortment of weapons.

Arnvar led him directly towards the huge warrior, Evan struggling with the urge to run the other way. He was relieved to see the other Novices looked nervous too, if not downright terrified like he was.

They joined another three dozen Novices already waiting. Arnvar left Evan in a line and went to stand beside the green skinned giant, looking tiny up against eight feet of raw strength.

“Novices,” the orc began, in a voice like grinding stone. “I am Urkzal, Master of Weaponry here at Veneseron. These are my lieutenants, Arnvar and Casselle.”

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The second lieutenant came out of the mass of Venators training to join the orc.

She was tall and lithe, her body tight with hard muscle. She was some sort of tribal warrior, her aureate skin covered in vivid tattoos as dark as her ebony hair.

“Some of you have met me recently, others,” his gaze flickered to Evan and he felt his heart stop, “are new under my instruction. Let me remind you all of the arts of a Venator.”

He stood back and gestured to the many weapons on the wall behind him. “I teach no magic here, the only sorcery used is that which is already imbued in the weapon itself. Of course, the day is far away before any of you will be accomplished enough to wield a weapon of that power.”

Evan noticed Urkzal himself had a gargantuan hammer strapped on his back which pulsed with electrical current.

“Many of you may think magic is all a Venator needs to know,” his hard gaze swept over each of them in turn. “You are wrong. A Venator must be in outstanding physical condition before entering the other realms. You might need to run from a pack of demons. If you are not fit enough, you will die. A Venator must be exceptionally skilled in long distance combat. If you cannot strike an enemy before it gets to you, you will die. A Venator must strive to be unparalleled in close combat.

You might need to fight when your magic is depleted, an enchanted blade can kill anything as easily as sorcery. If you cannot defend yourself when a demon is bearing down on you, you will die. We will teach you all of these things, without them you will fail on your first mission… and die. Understood!”

All of the Novices nodded emphatically, Evan included.

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“First off, fitness and strength, without these two qualities you will not survive as a Venator, it’s simple. We push you to your limits and beyond here. You may not like it, you will probably loathe it, but it will save your life.”

Evan was growing nervous, he wasn’t especially fit and he certainly wasn’t strong.

“Arnvar. Casselle. Take half of this group each and begin their sessions,” Urkzal ordered. “I don’t want to see any of you again until you are better. I do not train weaklings.”

*

Brooke stepped out of bed blearily, pulling on her Novice clothes and approaching her door uneasily. It could just be Elijah who’d knocked. Then again, it could be any manner of the strange beings she'd seen since she arrived.

It was the latter, a gruff ginger dwarf.

Several Novices were already in the corridor outside. Brooke’s gaze fell at once on the boy whose room neighboured hers. She recognised him, or, she thought she did.

He was a