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

aid he would have asked them. It was true the three had been friends for only a short time but battle had a way of bringing people closer together. Also, the death of mutual friends was a source of bonding through loss. These men had seen each other in all conditions and thus knew one another better than many longtime friends.
Darkon raised his left arm and used the mindflow to convince his body that it was a sword.
As it changed Darkon spoke intently to Galen, “Know you that you have my aid no matter the risk and neither of us can blame you for anything you have done. For is it not true that I, everyday, have put off the finding of my people? I mourn every moment because I may be the last of my kind but still I do not wish to begin a quest that might prove me alone.”
Graton nodded and added, “Alas, I too am guilty. As a member of the Griffon lord clan I am responsible for the everyday care and learning that will allow me to become a leader. Though my duties are not as desperate or weighty as either of yours I too neglect my responsibilities. Know you as well that I stay because you both have shown me there is still some good left in humanity. You’ve shown me that maybe my people are wrong in wanting to leave this world.”
Both humans knew the elves had been retreating more and more into they’re most ancient groves and strongholds. Graton had broken an elven pledge that did not allow communication with humans. In the eyes of most elves humans were no longer to be treated as poor cousins were but rather as a plague to be avoided. Darkon and Galen were well aware of this pledge for it was spoken of often in human stories and folk tales. Still there were those among the elven nation who resisted the calling to leave the humans and their world behind.
Galen had a great respect for Graton’s fighting prowess and envied his seeming peace of mind. He realized he’d been wallowing in his own guilt while his friends were in the same position as he.
He grinned widely and loudly said, “Good then, now that we’ve cleared the air lets go buy some horses!”
Darkon grinned as well and raised his bladed arm into the air toward the shining moon and proclaimed the coming downfall of Satar the mad. After that he asked Galen if it was safe to send him alone to purchase horses. Galen had no reply but his cheeks colored so many shades of red he felt he had his answer.

^ ^ ^

Dardiax knew his days, nay his moments, were numbered. He had greatly underestimated the Demonslayer and now his resulting weakness had been taken advantage of. Worse, his tormenter was no mere upstart seeking to further his position among demon kind. Calic-Matar had been imprisoned within the Scepter of Fire centuries past by the relic’s creator. The scepter was now in someone else’s hands, that much was obvious. Clearly a non-demon had taken it, for only a mortal grip would release Calic-Matar from his prison. At this Dardiax smiled, the scepter was now powerless and the thief would be crestfallen and confused.
Long ago the scepter’s creator made the item for the sole purpose of confining Calic-Matar. The creator knew that as long as the relic gave one power they would never free the dangerous demon inside. So it had been for several centuries the relic was stolen by demon after demon and soon none recalled whose essence lie within, none that is except for the Darkbringer. Dardiax knew of Calic well before now for he had been a minor demon at the time Calic was great. He understood why and how Calic had been imprisoned. Calic was a megalomaniac who would settle for nothing less than total domination of the Abyss, of the darker planes, and eventually of Earth itself. Of course all demons and evil beings had dreams of total rule and subjugation but Calic was different. He did not see it as a dream he would one day achieve. Instead he saw it as merely a matter of course for one so powerful and deserving as he. Power was indeed held in great stock by Calic-Matar, power that outreached all but the most powerful of demon lords and other evil entities. Even more terrifying was the ancient artifact Calic was in possession of.
The Soul Vault was a massive construct that was reputed to have been created by the elder gods. It was said that at the whim of the vault’s owner a creature could be changed dramatically, without and within. Those who possessed it often utilized its power to create dark servants and even small armies. Dardiax knew the vaults were real for he found himself cowering at the bottom of them. Looking upward he saw the opening to a tubular fifty foot pit. The walls were entirely covered with glowing glyphs and runes undecipherable even to the highly learned. The floor was littered with the remains of beasts thrown in centuries ago. They were naught but petrified bones twisted in impossible angles. He was unsure whether he was to die or be changed. Either way his existence was doomed, for any vault creation would be under the control of the possessor of the Soul Vaults. Lost in his doom filled thoughts Dardiax was startled when Calic spoke to him.
“Soon, Dardiax, I shall find a suitable creature and you will be whole again. Of course, your followers will not recognize you.” Dardiax could only stare pleadingly to the great Calic-Matar and knew it would be for naught. “I have found the scepter’s bearer at last and though I cannot harm him in any way, the Soul Vaults will be a fitting place for him. Perhaps I shall mix both your essences together. Would you like that? Would you enjoy being merged with a human?”
Chuckling deep at that Calic stepped away from the pit.
Dardiax still heard his voice clearly as he detailed for him his plans for the bearer. “His name is Merleptus and he is a mighty wizard. He has even scryed you while you lay within the vaults. No being of mortal status has ever done such a deed and been allowed to live. Truly Merleptus will be a worthy servant once he has been in the vaults for a time.”
Calic then detailed for Dardiax how the human had tricked him into leaving the scepter and even departed with his favorite Imp. It was this mage of Earth who had set the Demonslayer upon him. Dardiax bowed his head, ashamed of his failings. How could he have let this happen? Yet the fault was not all his own he knew for it was this upstart Merleptus who set it in motion. Indeed as black as the Darkbringer's heart was, even he would not unleash a being such as Calic upon the planes or Earth.
It was then that Dardiax, searching within himself, heard a tiny beseeching voice. He strained to hear its words over the voice of Calic –Matar but could only barely make it out. Figuring he had little left to lose he decided he would open a scrying pool that would lead him to the voice’s owner. Using a long black fingernail he sliced open his ribcage and a dark ichor oozed to the vault floor. After enough spilled to spread into a small puddle he willed the cut to close. At once an image appeared to reveal the speaker as Sniffaro the imp. The creature was magically astute for its kind since it was about to ascend. Taking the form of a full demon it would finally get some modicum of respect. Sniffaro was speaking from the very scrying pool of the mage Calic had spoken so highly of.
“Mighty Dardiax, gneegh, please take’s me back! I don’t wanna serve dis human any more. Please master, take me home!” Clearly the Imp was not wholly aware of Dardiax’s predicament. The Darkbringer knew the Imp could not ascend while on Earth and if it was killed there it would be set back for another century. He had no power left to bring the creature to him from another plane but he thought there yet might be a way.
“Sniffaro, cease you’re whimpering.” He commanded quietly, “Look around the wizard’s chambers for an item that holds power. A staff perhaps or any relic other than that powerless scepter.”
The imp immediately took flight and surveyed the many items that were cast carelessly into the chamber. Many of the items seemed to be of historical significance alone and held no true magic. Other items barely held on to the last vestiges of their magic, having lost their strength to the work of Merleptus. Soon though the Imp had a staff propped on its shoulder
“Gneeeesh, dis tings heavy!”
Dardiax then directed the Imp on what words to chant as he readied a spell that would aid him. Due to the imp’s propensity to fall into an annoying slang the instruction took much longer than he liked. The staff began to glow as its power channeled into the imp then through the scrying pools directly to himself. The Darkbringer heard Calic-Matar curse in surprise as he sensed the power entering the vaults. Thinking his captive too weak to be the source he searched several of the other thirteen pits first. Thus he did not witness the exchange in his vaults. Using the stolen energy of the staff that had once been the prized possession of a Celtic druid for its rainmaking capability, Dardiax cast a spell that allowed him to switch places with the whining Sniffaro.
The next sound the mighty Calic heard was, “Gneeeeaagh!” and he knew he’d lost the weakened Dardiax.
Sensing the new creature’s essence he realized he would be able to put it to as much use as his last captive. He knew a near to ascending imp could be quite compliant if one halted their ascension. Yes, this creature had dealt with all the various players in Calic’s schemes and would provide him with valuable information. Setting his plots in motion would be simpler now and soon all would be begging and crying for mercy as the all powerful, all seeing, Calic-Matar held reign over their wretched lives.


CHAPTER 14
TO WHAT GODS DOES IT MATTER


Some sages believe the Abyss is an endless, unmarked plane, devoid of life and devoid of beauty. Some tell of a many layered Abyss. All the layers being different from the next, thus mirroring the chaotic denizens that lived there. Others ponder that all the darker planes of the many religions such as Tarterus, Nifleheim and even Hell, make up the vast Abyss. In a way each of these ideas is correct, still none are exactly right either.
The Abyss is more like an almost endless spiral, each turn would bring one into another realm full of new life and new mysteries. Although most of the terrain in the Abyss was hazardous and full of demons and the like there were inner realms that were quite hospitable. In fact, perhaps the most out of reach realm at the bottommost twist of the abyssal spiral