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

no normal prey though. Demons were his eternal mark and he always succeeded when upon the hunt.
Kabion was handsome beyond belief and any god to have gamed against him in the past always seemed to be left with the feeling the god of luck, because of his charisma, had convinced them he had won. He wore short, sun blonde hair and always went with only a well groomed black mustache. His straight nose and rigid jaw line gave him an airy, noble presence and his lean but strong form promised any god or demon he was well versed in the ways of battle. Wearing only soft leather armor when on the hunt he’d enchanted it such that no natural weapons could pierce it. In his hand was a magnificent, redwood bow. With his godly strength he easily pulled the dragon whisker string even though the wood of the bow had been compressed again and again by an elven deity.
The elven hunt master had lost a bet to Kabion long ago and had created for him the finest bow ever to have been given to a non-elven being. There was a legend among demon kind about a bowman who struck from entire dimensions away. Kabion never missed once he had made his mark and he could indeed do so from dimensions or even worlds away.
His current prey was a demon that had arrived somehow on the seven’s area of the Abyss. Kabion and the other gods often brought chosen demons from the foul layers and placed them strategically among the souls that lived in Nessir’ve, the Slayarian heaven. In doing so the Demonslayers would keep their practice up and keep from getting bored. The only time the god of the hunt interfered was when a demon found a way of its own volition. To do so it would have to be powerful or have powerful friends. Though the Demonslayer’s spirits were no longer in any true danger since death was not a consideration in Nessir’ve, they still could be wronged and brutalized. The nearest facsimile of death was soul dissipation. If a soul exhausted all of its energy it would dissipate and then reform upon the very next day, fully reformed and very angry.
Kabion expected the creature might be a Bulgeashnee, a powerful form of demon that resembled a Minotaur but rather than a bull head it had that of a bison and its body was scaled like that of a brown snake. The creature had defeated a number of nearby Demonslayers in battle and he worried that the demon was possessed of some magic that demons should never be allowed to wield. It had been simple to track since screams had often announced its presence ahead of the trail. It would not be long before he caught up to it and took his mark.
When he did catch up to the demon he did not find it whole as he had hoped. Standing at the center of one of the small towns that nestled within Nessir’ve was the goddess of thieves and the night. At her feet was the much larger form of the Bulgeashnee, bleeding out of only a single puncture wound in its lower back.
“You better have a good explanation for this, dark sister!” Kabion warned blisteringly.
Stingara smiled that same familiar smile and calmly replied. “Hello to you to, brother.” She allowed the huntsman to recover from his anger for a moment before continuing. He hated being shown up and she knew it.
“Kabion, I have come to discuss the meeting today with Astnalia.”
“A meeting? I have not been informed of any meeting.” Kabion hastily replied. It had often been a tactic of his when he wished to excuse himself for not appearing at one of the meetings, though in truth he had never missed any call to order that involved Gaea.
Stingara saw through his deception. How could she not since she was the lady of deceivers?
“The time this day when we will join together and protest Astnalia’s allowing the Slayarians to die on that horrible day, Kabion.” She said.
Kabion visibly grimaced, though upon his remarkable face there was some doubt whether or not he could actually do so effectively.
“Of course you know of what I speak since we all lost so many followers on Earth that day and their questions echo throughout our collective conscience. We have no explanations for those who had been so loyal to us in life. Upon death we are supposed to give them the comfort and reassurance that in life they so craved.”
Before she could finish Kabion added, “And we have failed, yes I know, and I understand, but what is it you want from me?”
Stingara inwardly rejoiced as things went exactly as she had suspected they would. Kabion was practical and he had no patience for word games or small talk. With his simpler way of seeing things he often saw easier ways to accomplish what his fellow gods tended to overmeasure.
Stingara took the few steps that lay between her and Kabion then and she got so close she practically nuzzled his chest. Whispering in a placating tone she said, “Do not worry yourself, I will do all the dealing with Astnalia. All I can ask of you is that you back my position when the time comes.”
Kabion was well aware of what his lovely sister was suggesting and he did not like it. The word of Astnalia was absolute and she had commanded that day when Slayaria met its end that the gods not interfere. He’d not watched, unlike his six brethren. Instead he journeyed the Abyss and found the demon lords mainly responsible and made his bow sing its deadly death dirge. Astnalia had demanded no interference upon Earth, she had not mentioned the Abyss.
That day Kabion killed ten demon lords and left only Dardiax the Darkbringer among the surviving membership of demonic elites. Dardiax had been the least among his kind at the time but became the strongest after that. Eventually other demons would evolve into more powerful lords but it was best the recovering Demonslayers had less powerful foes to oppose them. He had never stopped looking after the Slayarians. Stingara seemed to think just because a Demonslayer didn’t worship her foremost that she was not responsible for their safety or guidance. Time to set her straight.
“You have an annoying tendency to favor particular mortals, Stingara! Your own arrogance became like a pestilence among the Slayarians. I watched countless times as they ignored a threat against others and themselves, leaving them foolishly open to attack or leaving someone else to an unbeatable opponent. Your edict about your followers only aiding the other faithful when it involved demon kind was a cruel and merciless thing to do. It may be as much your fault as Astnalia’s for allowing it to happen. Have you not considered this on your own, or is it eternally dark within your core as well as your tower?”
Stingara had hoped it would not have come to this. Most of the other gods never mentioned these facts since they’d all agreed that they each had been wrong in their own way and would correct these mistakes if ever they were given another chance.
“I admitted my mistakes and I have promised that I will not repeat those teachings.” She proclaimed.
Instantly Kabion changed his tone and said, “Want to bet you don’t succeed?”
A big friendly smile Stingara had learned to fear appeared on Kabion’s face and his hand was outstretched toward her.
Smiling warily Stingara took the god of luck’s hand and shook it in agreement. “I will beseech her to return us to the day or return our people to life. You must not interfere or speak against me.”
With an understanding nod, Kabion agreed.
“For the usual?” He asked.
Grinning wryly Stingara agreed. “A deep orchid.”

^ ^ ^

Kleana was ill at ease, and the goddess of love and death very infrequently felt that way. Her tall and curvaceous figure was enough to kill a man from appearance alone. She was at once morose and vibrant and a man upon seeing her image would border on complete love and horror, leaving him struggling to retain his sanity. Thus the reason her very own spiritual servants, once very mortal, cried and moaned upon the floor of her heart shaped throne room.
Twelve years ago she’d mourned the loss of the living souls she loved and rejoiced when those souls all at once had come home. She felt so ill at ease now for she sensed how one after another her fellow gods aligned themselves with the queen of night. In the mind of Kleana, to align against the All Mother was incomprehensible. To her Stingara was acting foolishly and was completely wrong. The goddess of love and death saw farther into the designs of Astnalia than did the angry goddess of thieves. She knew the Demonslayers could still be saved and she was satisfied with Astnalia's decisions. Apparently Stingara already knew her position and decided it useless to attempt to sway her opinion.
No matter what, Kleana would support the All Mother but she knew that against six opinions two were overruled. Even though the All Mother could completely ignore anyone else’s opinion she never would. Her motherhood made her too kind to ignore her children. If Astnalia were overruled the others would elect to take a more direct hand in the dealings of mortals, specifically the Demonslayers. They may even demand she relinquish souls of the dead for resurrection!
As goddess of love and death Kleana adored the souls in her care thus she fostered what could be treasonous thoughts of how to ensure that all the souls remained with her. She silently swore, which brought more fervent moans of despair from her servants, as she recalled how she’d planned to petition for a guardian of the dead to be created from among the ranks of the living Slayarian heroes. Again and again she had put it off and now it was too late.
She recalled as well, as she had done many times before, the single time one of her brethren had come to her begging the release of a follower’s soul. That had been Throngaer, god of storms and emotion. Throngaer ruled over actual emotional manifestations, beings whose power would be passed on to their slayer or given to one deemed worthy. Throngaer came seeking the soul that had been the manifestation of joy. Kleana knew that Throngaer loved Joy completely and to his utter downfall. His downfall because Kleana would never relinquish a soul unless it was agreed upon by her fellow gods. Throngaer, so wracked with pain from losing someone he so loved ignored normal protocol and mounted an attack upon Kleana's monolith. The storm god loomed on the horizon until a huge thunderstorm soon became a hurricane, the hurricane soon produced several tornadoes and thus she had no recourse but to defend her domain. First she called on Astnalia to stop Throngaer but the All Mother would not interfere. Halren sent chosen messengers to plead with him to calm himself but he ignored them and sent them hurtling away with a whim.
Kleana never enjoyed taking the lives of her beloved Demonslayers and she liked even less having to take love from their very breasts. Yet she knew nothing else would calm the tempestuous god. She erased Throngaer's love for his dead subject and soon the lord of lightning calmed down and even apologized. Though she was successful