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

empty streets beyond as the nearby guardsmen heard his words and repeated them to their fellows beyond earshot. Darkon, still invigorated by the impromptu encounter with a demon, led a chant that the gathered men followed with fervor, a chant that called for justice. Galen stood with his sword raised high in the center of the growing crowd and tears trailed down his tanned cheeks. He remembered how his father had inspired his warriors and knew the king would be proud. He knew as well that the pure soul of Rena would not be able to rest until he had slain Satar.


CHAPTER 21
THIS, MY HOME


Merleptus watched from his sinking tower as Galen and his friends cut a swathe of quick and precise destruction through the ranks of what was supposed to be Satar’s elite soldiers. It was true the men had taken the force by surprise, especially since Satar had told them to prepare to invade the sewers against Galen. He’d been keeping his eye on the group ever since he supplied them with the gold they needed. His gaze reached even into the sewers of Mastalon where most mages could not penetrate the powerful glyphs and wards inscribed long ago by the master arcanist's of Mastalon.
Of course, Merleptus was not an average mage and his powers outstripped nearly every human wizard of his day. Due to his age and that of his long dead master’s spell library he had access to spells the builders of the sewer system had not prepared for. Thus when he scryed into a place considered unreachable by others he was ever persistent in his attempts.
He shifted his gaze to the sleeping form of Satar and the strange but familiar shadow that hovered over him protectively. Merleptus felt sure he had seen that mysterious being before but could not recall from where. He knew this being that clung to Satar more by the way he felt than what he saw though. The creature peered intently toward the doorway of the royal bedchamber as if it knew what was coming. Indeed, Galen, Darkon and the rest were closing ever faster on this very room. It was strange though, how the thing merely waited and did not bother to awaken Satar. Was it so confident in its abilities? Perhaps it did not wish to alert Satar at all.
Whatever its plans were Merleptus was not worried, for he was confident of the Demonslayer that was coming with a vengeance beside the other valiant heroes. That Demonslayer had one thought on his mind, the mage knew, and that was slaying any demon before any of his comrades were caught up in the debilitating aura of fear that surrounded them. Though he could not read minds he did not need to. Any man who knew what that young man had been through would realize he was caught up in a whirlwind of emotions and would not rest until he had released all of the rage and grief that ached within him. This mage, for one, was quite happy he wasn’t going to be on the receiving end of those emotions. Merleptus even hoped that perhaps after a time the slayer would work with him again. A Demonslayer is a most precious commodity when one deals so often with demon kind.
Besides the swinging blades of the three men he had already met, the mage was also quite impressed with the two new members of the party. While the three warriors attracted most of the soldiers’ attentions the assassin darted from corner to corner and shadow to shadow slaying by stealth where force would have been too dangerous or time consuming. Also, when a large force awaited the party in halls and chambers and normal methods were not an option then the elven mage would weave intricate spells with speed and confidence. Merleptus had always been envious of elven mages and their seemingly innate ability to manipulate the arcane.
Shielding his comrades from missile fire at one point, the elven mage created an invisible shield of swirling air that sent the enemy arrows harmlessly away. As the offending archers prepared to fire again giving several other soldiers cover to advance, Gemini hissed. With a powerful motion of his hands directed at the men upon the stairs before them, a gusting wind wall blasted upward through the tight corridor and stairs sending the soldiers hurtling backward head over heels into the archers. As quickly as it had been made the wind disappeared, followed by a storm of blade swinging that cleaved through the stunned soldiers with merciless intent. Leaving nothing to chance the three warriors of the group worked like separate parts of a single efficient unit, each focused on the goal at hand. Galen’s magical blade cleaved through armor like butter while Graton’s spear punched into and withdrew from the enemy with lightning speed. Darkon’s advantage was in his strength and the fact that no matter the conditions he never allowed rage to blind his instincts. With cool calm and discipline he fended away deadly swords and hacked into the mercenAres that didn’t retreat before him.
For a moment Merleptus wondered where that annoying imp had gotten to but he realized the creature was more irritation than he needed. Let the thing avoid death on earth for an eternity for all he cared. The images upon the scrying pool were his concern now and it was turning out to be quite a show so far. The scheming wizard had hoped he would have an opportunity to assist the heroes and thus regain their favor but they seemed quite capable of handling things so far. Still, they hadn’t crossed either Par-Than or the shadowy demon at Satar’s bedside yet so there still might be a chance. At least Merleptus hoped so.
^ ^ ^

Lunging right and stabbing left, Galen caught another soldier in the belly, spilling the man’s innards onto his feet. The soldier to his left angrily bellowed as he raised his heavy blade over his head and charged. Galen feinted a parry then ducked his shoulder and surged forward catching the rage blinded man by surprise and flipping him over onto his head and shoulders. The snap of a breaking neck was the effect incurred and another man was dead by his hand. It was his skill at using any and all objects to his advantage that had saved him many times before, especially for the two years he’d traveled alone. Looking around, he saw Darkon and Graton standing in the middle of nearly a dozen men dead and dying. Huffing and puffing they each bore some superficial wounds but they didn’t seem to notice. They were consumed by an energy inducing spell Gemini had cast upon them. Their reflexes were heightened, as were their strength and intuition. They could sense an attacker coming from behind or unseen and had enough added agility to avoid a killing blow. The effects were running longer than expected and now the breathless after effects were hitting them harder for it. They decided then to wait for Ralac and Gemini to join them. The two had gone ahead to scout the servant’s quarters and clear any possible dangers to the party before they were committed deep within the palace and possibly fighting Satar. Once, the three warriors had heard an explosion come from that direction but nothing since then had been seen or heard. Galen immediately wanted to run after their friends and help them but Graton assured him that the explosion had surely come from the spells of Tam Geminilanthis.
As the trio of blood spattered warriors rested they soon realized that things had grown very quiet. No longer did any guards move through the hallways shadowing their every move and the silence was becoming almost haunting. Graton did not notice for he mourned the unburied dead at his feet. Among his people the unburied were in danger of becoming lost. If the soul wandered too far from its body it was in danger of not being present when the speakers for the dead came for them. The elf quietly began to sing the elven song of mourning and methodically moved about the great hall and shut the eyes of the dead men. Elves believed by singing to the unburied dead they would entice the souls to remain long enough for their speakers to arrive. The truth of these beliefs had never truly been known for sure but Graton had witnessed as a speaker came for the waiting soul of Sevele. He now not only relied upon his strong faith in elven religious practices, he had witnessed something no one on this plane was likely to see. Bearing witness to a speaker of Silvanus had stoked a fire within allowing him to fully believe greater things abounded after passing from this plane of existence.
Galen paid little heed to the elf’s song. The men they had slain were wretches, scum and even cowardly murderers who would never have been allowed within Mastalon’s walls by King Garrold, Galen’s father. As far as he was concerned it did not truly matter what became of their bodies because he suspected Pluto would find their souls easily enough.
Darkon was mesmerized by the enchanting lullaby of death and he used it to focus his thoughts and strengthen his resolve. As he focused he found within himself a center of being he had only glimpsed in the past, a light that hovered within him that was the focus of his total self. He knew it could only be found if he allowed himself the peace of mind, the steadiness of unfeeling. He had considered exploring this state of being before but too many random untamed thoughts and emotions clouded his inner self. It seemed strange to him that now, after so much fighting, he could find his center so easily. The elven death dirge gave him something soothing to focus upon and the cold, methodical presence of thought he enwrapped himself in during battle allowed him the clear mind.
Thus it was that two were distracted while only Galen watched the surroundings and listened for approaching enemies. Galen felt no calmness at all for he was a follower of Ares, god of war and fury, schooled by warrior teachers that taught him to utilize the