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

were meant to look like. Mastalon’s pride was in its armies and city forces. For centuries they held off all sorts of foes from eastern men riding war elephants and swift desert steeds to swarming hordes of goblins. The replacements were mockeries of the men who truly served Genossia.
Darkon on the other hand did not quite seem believable but did bring an amused chuckle from the prince that was soon followed by snickering, elven finger pointing. Darkon's untamable mane was severely hindering his ability to hide his foreign nature and his body was in very much better physical condition than nearly all of the hired guard. He had no fear though, for Bele’ had mentioned that there were plenty of outlanders about so he would be passable as a new recruit.
After a time Darkon spoke quietly to Galen. “No beggars, no thieves, not even homeless dogs searching for scraps. Friend Galen, has it always been so in Mastalon?”
Galen shook his head regretfully and answered, “No, but we know most of the latter two are now Satar's men. Even still you are right, it is entirely too quiet on these streets.”
As if on cue a whistle from one of the stalking elves signaled someone was near. The disguised warriors took a relaxed stance, one that would suggest they were merely two guards on watch. They heard the approaching footsteps of many folk coming nearer and exchanged nervous glances. After not seeing anything at all they were surprised that they were at a place where something out of the ordinary was going on. It seemed entirely too convenient. They knew it wasn’t guards for Graton would have signaled that, thus Galen warily kept his borrowed, flame stained sword in hand. Darkon could not see Graton or their newest ally, Gemini, at all in the shadowed alleyways they stood in but he sensed that they were near with ready spells on their tongues. Then, just before the approaching group of strangers rounded the street corner and would see the two would be guards standing in the mouth of an alleyway Darkon reached out with the mindflow and read the stray thoughts he could comprehend.
Grasping Galen's wrist Darkon whispered, “Hold!”
Near a dozen hardy men garbed in dark attire and bearing watchmen’s weapons rounded the corner and halted suddenly at the sight of the two misposted guards.
A scowling man, who was apparently the leader, barked orders, “Grab them, kill them if they resist!”
Nine strong men rushed forth weapons ready and smiles upon their faces for they were eager to take revenge on Satar’s men.
“Surrender or die where you stand!” Growled the leader as he leveled a crossbow at Galen who at the moment looked nothing like a prince returned home.
Galen smiled as he dropped the sword to the ground and said, “Jander, since when have you been so grouchy?”
The warrior was taken aback for a moment but recovered quickly. “Who are you?”
Gemini realized the situation and promptly dropped the illusion around the two warriors. Galen stood revealed.
“My prince!” Jander’s scowl finally left him as he nearly went to his knees in wonderment. The other men around him at once stood at attention and saluted their returned prince.
Galen saluted the men in return and immediately dispensed with the unnecessary pleasantries. “I am sorry for taking so long, loyal warriors. Before I am discovered standing here though we must find a place I and my companions can rest and plan my parent’s rescue.”
Jander stood straight and said, “We met your friend Ralac, my prince, and he told us much already. Much of the populace has already secretly been prepared for your return. Meilenan and I share the opinion that you would be best served to stay near the main sewer conduit where legends say mages cannot peer.”
Galen beamed with pride. “My people are still as wise and strong as when I left them! We will do as you suggest. As soon as you can you must send us contacts and supplies, this must all be done very carefully, my friend.”
Jander only nodded and immediately signaled his men to follow him and they all quickly trotted off and disappeared around the corner of a nearby building.
As Darkon turned a plaintive look Galen’s way the prince shook his head apologetically and said, “Sorry, but back to the sewers we go.”


CHAPTER 20
TRAITORS AND SPIES


Satar was mesmerized by the dancing women the ambassadors from Persia had brought for him. The women were like none he had ever seen before. They were so curvaceous and full figured, unlike the lithe, slender women of his own land. They had been gifts in return for favorable taxes on Persian trade caravans and less intense trade restrictions on their merchandise. Most importantly though, each woman wore a protective amulet around their necks that kept them from being completely horrified by the fear augmented presence of Satar.
It was true Satar was making allies of all Genossia’s old enemies and they were taking full advantage of his unstable state of mind. He was a man obsessed. Rarely ever sleeping he constantly imbibed potions and concoctions that would sustain him without need for a normal man’s necessities. Also, unseen by any of the oiled women who amused him was a large shadow that stood behind his stolen throne. Only visible to him this was the demon that had joined him in his obsession.
Satar had made a pledge not so long ago to never stop his vigil until Galen of Mastalon was in his dungeons. The demon who had heard his pledge came to him and pledged its aid, asking only that Galen's allies be left to its mercy. He had no problem with that. He was aware now that Galen was near. Par-Than, the royal mage, notified him of that fact just that very morning. Par-Than had been a useful pet so far. The traitorous mage had been planted inside the palace of Mastalon many years ago and served both the king and Satar loyally until now. Now that only he ruled, Par-Than had much more time for his own affairs and that suited Satar the mad just fine as long as the wizard did as he asked.
After he was done here he would sleep for a short period so as to be fresh and alert for the capture and torture of the long missing prince. Then, once finished breaking the fool Galen would watch as his parents were slain before his eyes and his sweet sister, Brie’shanna, would be violated in every way. A growl erupted behind him, it was one of agreement, and startled him from his vile thoughts. Luckily only he could hear the demon, or the sweet smelling girls Satar salivated over would have most likely perished from the fright. Still, he spoke aloud to the creature with no regard for the stares his outbursts drew.
“I’ve told you never to intrude upon my thoughts!” He said.
The demon blankly stared back at him and said, “I was merely trying to speak to you but you were already talking to yourself. I must say your mind could be mistaken for a demon’s.”
Satar cared little for that comparison but said nothing as he turned to dismiss the fluidly dancing young women. They bowed repeatedly as they backed out of the exit. At the doorway stood four guards, personal protectors of Satar. Beside them four more guards waited to escort the two women to their chambers. The royal guards pulled the oaken doors closed, leaving their mad king to argue with his demons.
The ceiling rose upward into a pyramid with hanging sconces that held burning black candles. The room was well lit but still a deep shadow lay at Satar’s back. The jeweled throne he sat upon was gilded in platinum and gold and dressed with felt cushion of red stuffed with swanmay feathers. He rested his feet upon a stout footstool of human build. A quivering man was tied around the ankles and wrists, gagged, and being used ‘quite nicely thank you’ as a footstool. Satar had days ago forgotten what the man had done to deserve such treatment but wasn’t going to stop using him for he would then be without a footstool! That of course wouldn’t be fitting for a king. Somehow he ignored the reek of piss and shit wafting from the footstool.
As the echoes of Satar’s shouts finally subsided again the demon spoke through his thoughts. “I still abhor you using amulets to prevent your aura from affecting the servants. An assassin could easily acquire one and end your life.”
Satar laughed loudly, “Kill me? I cannot be stopped, demon, nothing can kill me!”
The demon laughed back, “Surely you are as mad as your servant’s say you are Satar!”
This time Satar lost his patience and raised his voice in anger as he had done so many times before and said, “Know this! I, son of Satarnafoon, destroyer of lives, King of Genossia, have little to fear from death!”
Quiet now the demon kept closed the mental avenues of which only he had control. It knew it would, if given the time, find out Satar’s secret and why he feared death no more than a passing pittance but pressing the issue had already gotten him nowhere. Without explanation Satar pressed a large green sapphire at the right arm of the throne, a sapphire devised to summon the royal wizard, Par-Than. This time though, Par-Than did not appear. Usually only a moment or three would pass but never longer. Then, instead of appearing in person, Par-Than opened a scrying device of some sort and made his face appear before the mad king.
His gaunt face was accented by a sharp beard that streamlined and tapered to a point upon which was entangled a large vulture talon.
Par-Than spoke in a sibilant hiss that made most men shiver subconsciously, “My king, you have summoned me at a most inopportune time.”
Before he could continue Satar snapped in rage at the wizard, “How dare you not come here personally! I should have you publicly flogged!”
Par-Than bowed his head and replied, “Of course, my lord, but if you would allow me to explain...”
Satar’s demeanor instantly changed and he quickly grunted an assent to the mage.
“I have been attempting to precisely locate Prince Galen and have come to a final conclusion.”
The mad king waved for him to continue.
“He has made a hideout, if you will, from a place I cannot scry into, the sewers of Mastalon.”
Satar looked about to protest the statement as the mage continued, “Long dead wizards of ancient arcane knowledge made the sewers impervious to the eyes of other mages. It was during a rebellion when the royal family was forced to defend themselves from the tunnels beneath the city. Still, it will please my king to know that I have spied strangers to our city moving in and out of the sewers and I have overheard conversations pointing to the return of the prince.”
Satar did not speak for a few moments, contemplating his next move. He could send soldiers into the tunnels and flush the prince and his allies out