The Slayarians - Book One - JM Barnes (different e readers txt) 📗

/> Two days. Who knows what would occur during this next adventure? Not that any of them weren’t prepared. Every morning the three men practiced their fighting skills and occasionally tested them at the local tavern. At later times Graton would tutor Sevele in the learning of new spells and she would test them on any nearby dead trees or hapless known bandits who would often pass through town. Indeed they were ready, Darkon’s fears were unfounded and he knew it. His own affairs were what loomed over his head. He knew Krosten would very soon pass through Havoctown because it was a crossroads between kingdoms. Looking at Sevele’s beautiful face he, for a slight moment, thought of hiding from the priest. Yet he knew he could not avoid his destiny any more than death itself. He would have to go with Krosten but he would take Sevele with him. He knew she would have it no other way.
The next two days were spent well. Every moment between the two couples was relished and they did all they could together before the time was gone, but every good moment in life seems destined to end. When the time was over the four skilled adventurers were quite prepared and they steeled themselves for battle. Galen made all the necessary purchases at the raucous market and noted mentally that his funds were nearly exhausted and soon he may have to return home. Graton had successfully cast all the spells required to allow him to commune with the mighty spear of Bailick and they allowed him also to roughly determine the location of the remaining parts of the legendary Bailick. He found that they were not long ago scattered throughout the land but recently had been gathered by someone else and that person or persons had possession of those items even now, all except the spear of course. He resigned himself to the fact he may have a battle before him when the group returned from the mission Merleptus had for them.
Darkon and Sevele made pledges to one another, secure in the presence of the others. Still, Darkon was constantly brooding over his unspoken dilemma. If he left now he might miss Krosten so he left word with the small folk to keep an eye out for him. If he did miss him he would track the old priest down, resigned not to shirk his responsibility or the burden of his people.
At midday Merleptus appeared at the very doorstep of the new home.
They were eating a meal Rena had made for them when the mage stepped into their door and announced, “So I have come as I said I would nearly two full moons ago. My need is great and I have painstakingly prepared for your journey. I am prepared to grant you much, first for taking this quest then second, to reward your success.” He wore a large, black cloak that swallowed his body. His face was hidden in the shadows of a hood and his hands were covered by long sleeves.
As the four friends had discussed Darkon rose from the table and faced the wizard. Using the mindflow he then reached out for Merleptus’ mind. The mage soon felt the fingers of thought probing the foremost of his thoughts.
Darkon's mistake was in thinking the mage had never encountered the mindflow before, he was soon sorry for that. Merleptus filled his own mind with the horrible images of burning Bealrotti and the occasional beheading of their young. He was given full access to these thoughts and they struck him as a wave of guilt and remorse. He nearly fell over but stood out of pride and stared the grinning Merleptus in the eye.
“You were almost successful in invading my mind but I am wary to you now and will not be so vulnerable again.” Merleptus pledged.
Darkon said nothing as he slowly recovered from the uneasiness. He had felt that he should try to see the mage’s truths for his safety and especially the safety of sweet Sevele. He had anticipated that the mage would have some defense but he was determined to try.
Now the mage smiled again and said, “Now that we’ve got that over with my friends, I have come to seek your aid on a mission I myself cannot complete. With me I have brought an elder scroll. At a petitioners request it will produce a totem of magical power and I have attuned it to work once for each of you. I bid you to choose wisely for the item could mean the success of your quest.”
Allowing all that to sink in, the mage unraveled the scroll upon the oak table and paused a moment before continuing. “When the quest is done I will also grant each of you one thousand gold coins for your troubles. Also, anything you may acquire during your journey is yours for I seek only one thing. The Scepter of Fire. Know you that the Scepter is held by a powerful creature of the underworld and it will defend the item with all its strength and wits. I am confidant that you four will be successful but you will need all your skills to defeat the current lord of the Scepter. The only question being will your minds remain clear enough to allow success?”
Four minds worked to form pictures of the items they would need and Graton was more intrigued than anyone. He wondered if he could gain the entire Bailick with this elder magic though inside he knew it was unlikely. Through the teachings of his ancestors the elf knew that Bailick consisted of more than just one weapon and the armor. The legends of the otherworldly elf the relics had been named after told of a mystical sword and mentioned the spear as being a mere part of the armor itself. It was said the spear could be stored in its purest form, as untainted arcane energy. Remembering that only the helm would be necessary for that particular gift he concentrated upon its image.
Galen mentally pictured his tutor in his home palace in Mastalon in Genossia. Bele’ at the time had been his father’s closest friend and because of that the big warrior treated Galen differently than his other students. Bele’ taught swordsmanship to the sons and very rarely daughters of some of the city’s richest nobles. In addition to the conventional training Bele’ also held long discussions on technique and sometimes the types of foes his students might perchance come across throughout the land. Galen had been very attentive at those lessons and he knew that for a mortal to battle creatures like demons an enchanted weapon would be needed. Being a swordsman by nature he pictured in his mind a fine magical sword.
Sevele’s main concern was being able to escape if it became too dangerous in the Abyss. At one time in her life she’d feared leaving the woods of Ara’moor, having no knowledge of anything outside the forests’ borders. Now she was following her mysterious lover into a place beyond earth itself. The thought horrified her but she knew that she could not allow Darkon to see that. If he did, she knew, he would make her stay behind. Her fears expanded to encompass her friends and Darkon until she could not think of anything other than if things became too deadly they would need a way to escape.
Darkon was perhaps the least interested for he could only think that there was not a priest or shaman among them. What god would grant them magical reprieve from life threatening wounds they might sustain? He looked to Sevele and knew he could not bear to see her hurt in any way. Nor did he discount the possibility of one of his warrior companions getting hurt.
Darkon came to his decision before any of the others, running a hand through his thick mane he let out a sigh and said, “I know not what to ask your scroll wizard, but I do know we may need some magical poultice or nectar that will heal us when needed.”
Smiling warmly the mysterious mage spoke to the scroll directly saying, “Elder scroll, hear me now! Darkon wishes the Healing Salve of Noor!” So deep was his hood his features were hidden and not even a beard or length of hair was revealed.
With a brilliant red flash a small wooden container appeared on the table beside the scroll. The container was perhaps large enough to hold five gold coins. Merleptus explained the properties. “There are seven doses that must be applied to the palms to be applied correctly.” Thus taking Darkon's success as a cue the others quickly called off their own desired items.
For Galen there was a sword, Sevele a silver ring and Graton acquired another part of the Bailick. The helm covered his entire face and head leaving eyelets and gratings at the mouth. Shining silver etchings of griffons in flight decorated its crown and base. Sevele’s magical ring would transport all of them near to their home in Havoctown by command, one time only. Galen’s sword ensured through its enchantments that he would be able to harm any creature, including those from the underworlds of Tarterus and the like.
So as Darkon placed the Salve of Noor in his pack ever so carefully and Graton placed the helm on his head, which caused his spear to vanish, the companions followed Merleptus outside to a standing portal he had prepared for them. The doorway through reality would almost instantaneously transport them to their destination.
Though Graton was unshaken by his spear’s disappearance Galen questioned him about it. The smiling Elf placed both his fists together thumbs first and spoke an elven word. Slowly he separated his hands and as he extended his arms the spear appeared and became whole.
“With the helm I can now store away the weapon until needed.” Graton explained.
Galen slapped the elf lord’s back in congratulation then showed him how lightly his new sword danced through the air.

^ ^ ^

It was clear now to Merleptus that the time he allowed the four hired mercenaries together had been good for their bonding as friends. They had grown close and exchanged one another’s training, thus making each more formidable by far. They would serve him quite well, quite well indeed.


CHAPTER 9
A DARKER PLACE


Somewhere other than Earth a creature of great power and intense evil laughed. Standing ten feet tall upon a serpentine lower half with scales the color of ash, his presence alone produced an aura of fear. Built like a gangly man his brows were accented by two stubby horns that were the color of blood. His eyes shined a malicious yellow while oversharp features presented a diabolical visage.
He stood looking over a bubbling pool that shimmered with the image of four hardy adventurers who had foolishly entered his realm. Surely they knew not what they’d done so he merely watched as one after the other they met his denizens and fought them. Three times he was sure one would perish but one among them possessed some sort of healing agent that saved them. Indeed the one whose mind was