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

closed to him, from this distance at least, seemed somehow familiar. Was it the feral joy he revealed every time he slew a dark creature of the Abyss or was it his appearance that struck as something familiar? The entity had lived countless eons so would sometimes take days to recall a particular memory. Still he remembered everything quite clearly eventually. He would be patient, surely these mortals could not slay every denizen of this kingdom in the Abyss.
This particular kingdom was one of the largest and that was because this creature was one of the oldest and most cunning of demon lords. So cunning that his status had climbed well beyond many more powerful lords whom were not so cunning. Indeed he often dealt with evil gods of every pantheon and had often garnered their support when an opposing lord sought to throw him down.
Four mortals were of little concern for one so connected except for perhaps amusement. He often did in fact enjoy involving himself in human affairs in particular. Nothing satisfied him more than the turning of a servant of good to the darker ways of his kind. How he would laugh as a druid of Gaea would slay newborn children in her name yet grant the pure souls to him. Parents willingly brought the trusted druidess their beloved children thinking their sacrifice would bring them success and good fortune. Instead only sorrow and guilt would find them and kill them from within.
He had many names, known in a hundred cultures and there were few beings and fewer things he feared. His countenance haunted children’s nights and adults would jump at shadows, never forgetting their nightmares. Yes, he would enjoy this small entertainment while it lasted, for some time soon he would have much more to do. The last century on Earth had been a prosperous one for the cults of evil gods and demons alike. Also, the forces of good had been dealt a mighty blow. The backbone of mortal defense against demon kind was defeated and annihilated. It was due to the cohesion between his brethren’s forces and those of the evil gods that it was accomplished. No such union had ever occurred before since those very same forces often warred amongst themselves more than against the forces of good.
For ages uncounted Gaea’s children and their mortal brood were the thorn in the side of evil alliances and the poison in their wine. Always, no matter what pawns were involved, the thrice damned Demonslayers would cut down the leaders and liaisons between planes. That would never occur again since his kind had been victorious and only awaited the word of the evil gods before they would swarm the rest of Earth’s kingdoms. No more would the soft mortals take precedence over their own concerns. War would once again rage across the Earth where all denizens of all the dark dimensions would meet.
That though would not occur for some time yet for the evil gods enjoyed their mortal pawns and they desired time to corrupt the rest of Earth’s people to evil. Then they would use the twisted mortal fodder in a war so grand in scale only the gods themselves could comprehend it.
So, he would wait and watch. With the Scepter of Fire in his hands, and the Demonslayers extinct, waiting would not be so bad.

^ ^ ^

Darkon hadn’t been pleased since they set foot in that foul place. The arid, dark, rock covered terrain was bound to maim one of them. They had been forced to retreat already, after two days journey, several times. Two of those times they had simply been walking across the land when a quartet of demons appeared out of nowhere. Immediately Galen and Darkon charged the things.
Darkon was forced to hastily explain to his comrades that demons exuded a level of fear according to their power. They had to learn that the fear was unreasonable and the demons were ordinary foes that could easily be destroyed. That worked to some measure but the demons proved that they were not ordinary in the least. Their forms ranged from all kinds of deviations and outright impossibilities. The more intelligent the demon, it seemed, the more humanoid its physical form but more fearsome its aura.
Darkon quickly learned what it truly was to be a Demonslayer. The mere presence of demons made his muscles spasm and bulge as his adrenaline coursed swiftly through his veins. As he formed the sword that was his arm he saw that it seemed to change its shape of its own volition. Whether it changed due to the power of the demonic foe or the stress and danger of a particular situation he did not know for sure. Still, even with his added ability and his friends’ bravery they had sustained three severe injuries. The first was a gash across Galen’s face that revealed the entire right side of the inside of his mouth. The prince had been so incensed that he did not even acknowledge the wound until Sevele gasped in shock. Luckily the salve of Noor was capable of handling such a wound and it did so without leaving a scar. The other major wounds had been sustained by Sevele alone. With great agitation Darkon would apply the salve to her, all the while he recited to her that she had been drifting too close to his battle and that she must realize that he intended to take on the strongest of the demons due to his inherent powers against them.
Black clouds moved at a snail’s pace and no wind blew. On the horizon a violet sun was setting but it never caused a change in the clammy, dungeon like air. As the sky darkened Graton brought forth his light bearing spear for no stars shined in this night sky. There were no trees, only some weeds and a few areas had thorny black bushes. Once, Sevele saw such a bush slowly drinking the blood from a still living, entrapped cat-like creature that must have gotten too close. After that, none of the four ventured near the abominations again.
Darkon was beginning to think there was no end to this wasteland when a line of what looked like trees appeared on the darkening horizon. They already knew they could not rest during the night for they had found that the time to do so was in the early morning when the demons were less active. They had to keep moving to avoid being ambushed during the complete blackness and also avoid roving bands of the foul abyssal denizens. So far their tactics had not been very successful for they often stumbled across a lone demon or even a pair. Darkon knew that no more than two could get along at once without the proper motivation and leadership. Both times they’d met four of the beasts there had been a progressive thinking leader. As long as they avoided the armies of the pit they would survive, that is if they didn’t starve. For nothing in the Abyss seemed to be edible to mortals.
As time passed and they knew the tree line they had sighted was within a two mile distance they rested for a time. Graton's spear served as the only light they could see by but it was also a beacon to the native creatures that someone was passing through. Talking quietly they readied their gear for the mission ahead. They knew that soon they should be finding a keep Merleptus had said would be three days journey. Though the mage had said nothing about any forest Darkon trusted his direction sense. He had found that he truly did not care what the mages purposes were as long as he was rewarded for his efforts. The gold the mage had promised would be useful in helping him facilitate the finding of his lost brethren and begin, if necessary, the rebuilding of a city. Secretly he often fostered the vision of himself and the beautiful Sevele at peace and alone with nothing but children to tend to and enjoy.
He would not voice those thoughts though for Darkon the Demonslayer knew enough about loss to not open his heart in so dangerous an environment. He was too aware of the fact that any one of them could be slain at any time. He watched as Sevele readied her many daggers and small, sharp missiles. Her graceful movements were so elven and her eyes so bright and fanciful. He knew then the feeling that stormed through his heart but would not, could not, proclaim it. It would hurt so much more, he thought, to tell her then lose her. Better not to tell her anything in case he perished and she would perhaps be as forlorn, for he knew well enough the love she felt for him. She had proclaimed it during the group’s sojourn near Havoctown. He knew she would stay with him now no matter what, and loved her more for it, though a small part of him screamed in denial, or was it rage?
He almost felt that at any moment he might run from her screaming. No pain was greater than that of losing one you love so dear. Darkon had lost two pairs of parents, not to mention an entire city worth of his people. He was adamant in that he would not follow his emotions. He swore to resist this painful direction his heart had taken him in, at least not yet.
Leaving under some rocks extra gear they need not carry Graton took the lead, staying twenty steps ahead of the group. Traveling the two miles to what they assumed was a tree line they began to feel something before they saw it. At first there was a twinge of paranoia as their minds went through several horrific scenarios. Then as they grew ever closer the twinge became actual fear and Darkon had to reassure his friends just to convince them to continue onward. Eventually pure terror filled each of their hearts, including his own. It was the first time he had been affected by the aura of the demons, but was it demons?
They peered into the impenetrable darkness ahead and inched forward always knowing they moved toward danger but were too entranced to do otherwise. Darkon, Galen and Sevele waited with bated breath as Graton slowed to within ten steps of them for the light to reach the source of the dread. Already in their minds they expected dead black trees, gnarled and twisted into vile facsimiles of true life and among them some mighty demon that allowed no mortal to pass alive.
Then, as Graton stood frozen the others drew abreast of him and gaped in horror. While Darkon felt only a facsimile of the burning tingle throughout his spine and out through his muscles that aided him in battle against his eternal enemy. The hard warrior had only felt this new sensation since arriving here in the Abyss, during those times he had faced demons. As a Demonslayer this was the normal reaction when facing his peoples hated foes but now it seemed tempered in that he could actually sense that whatever it was that was waiting beyond the blackness was not demonic in nature. Every other time he had prepared for battle and engaged the enemy demons, yet now it was as if his body put him on notice that he may not need the extra help now, but he soon might.
Thus it was with trepidation that Darkon nodded when Graton said,