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

led to the royal chambers. Galen assured him that it must be a recent addition. As the two now slobbering, hunger entranced demons closed on the fat man, he called on the mindflow to reshape his arm into a wicked killing blade. In two breaths it did so and he took four long strides, while crouching low and keeping his arm pointed at the ground, toward the demons. He was unnoticed until one found a blade protruding from its belly. The slow witted thing looked down and then at its comrade. Both demons blamed the inconvenience on the still smiling cook and as one they leapt upon him.
The illusion disappeared on contact but the trick had done its job. Darkon stepped back a few paces knowing the spells of Gemini would be oncoming, and they were. Like in the sewers when Ralac revealed the traitor among them, Gemini’s one hundred needles swarmed unerringly into the ugly faces of the surprised demons. This time though, the spell did not affect the creatures nearly as well as they did the fake Bele’. They stood, heads smoking, one’s belly bleeding and roared in fury. Before they leapt toward Darkon he heard Gemini somewhere in the rafters swear a disturbing vituperation in the elven tongue.
“Schyalen un vratou!” Loosely translated, “Uh oh, they’re tough!

^ ^ ^

Ralac had traveled these hallways before under the guise of a Persian harem guard and so he knew something was different. There were no torches lit, no candles or warm fireplace. There was no groaning of tortured men echoing from the dungeons. Satar had installed a tunnel for just such an effect and Ralac traversed those tunnels twice searching for an exit. As he had told Gemini he had instead found a dormant monster that blocked the passage at the bottom. It was his description of the creature that armed Tam and Darkon with some foreknowledge of the kind of demon they were to face, guarding the royal family.
Also, the four bodyguards Satar never had far away from him had been found as soon as Ralac topped the final flight of stairs that led here to the royal bedchambers. The huge ogrish men had been slain by something that wielded wicked claws and their own weapons were not bloodied. The private throne room was empty except for the dying man Satar had been using for a footstool. If not for the assurances of the cowardly Par-Than, Ralac would have sworn Satar had fled.
Behind him, walking boldly down the center of the hallways, Galen and the Griffon lord noticed and ignored all the same signs. Galen seemed sure that Par-Than wouldn’t have lied and by the way the evil wizard quivered whenever the prince glared at him Ralac believed it.
How mad Satar must be, Galen thought to himself. To not only leave his person virtually unguarded but also to rest in the one place Galen could not have possibly forgotten. Ralac had told of his insane ravings and hysterical actions but to the prince this was still inconceivable. To so easily move through the inner palace and get to Satar was not how one expected to be received.
Ralac listened intently at the nearest chamber doors that were, unbeknownst to him, the chambers of Galen's younger sister. Turning the iron and gold door handle he pushed the surprisingly light door open to reveal a dark chamber that was in shambles. Only the magic glow from some trinket showed any of the room to him and he bent warily to retrieve it. As he picked it up the golden ring caused pins and needles to race up his arms. Quickly he pocketed it and returned to the hallway where Galen and Graton were approaching. Giving a signal that all was clear the boyish assassin returned to the shadows he felt so at ease within.
The heavy oak door to Galen's chamber soon came within everyone’s sight and they gathered a few feet from it. Graton placed the fear stopping charm prominently on his chest as the others checked their weapons. No sound came from the supposedly inhabited rooms as Graton cast a spell that would reveal to him any magical warding or traps. He traced a pattern in the air that remained visible wavering in the gloomy light like the heat rising from the horizon on a mid summers day. He pointed at the door and the airborne sigil floated silently against it, rippling outward to encompass the portal as it sought to locate magic placed upon the door. None appeared to exist so Galen boldly pushed open the door and strode forward.
A single torch lit the entrance hall where two arches stood doorless and dark. The light from the flickering flame made it impossible to see in the inky blackness beyond. Brandishing the mighty spear of Bailick, Graton motioned for the others to follow his lead. Galen did so but Ralac took the shadowed route, avoiding the light of the elven spear. After a nervous few seconds of being surrounded by utter darkness a short hall that led to Galen’s bedroom became suddenly visible in the flickering glow of several black candles. Now, even Galen crept, expecting an awaiting monster after every step. None appeared though as they entered the candle lit chamber.
For a long moment the men stood, weapons ready, at the very foot of Galen’s own bed. A man-sized shape rolled over in its sleep covered by a heavy quilt, while Ralac soundlessly moved beside the bed. When all were ready he pulled the down filled quilt back to reveal two, very curvaceous, naked women. The movement did not wake them nor did they stir when Ralac impulsively reached out and softly caressed their smooth behinds. Graton chastised him a hissing reproach, silently as only an elf could, and Ralac pulled quickly away. Shrugging sheepishly while brandishing a wolfish grin the young one eyed man moved backwards into the inky shadows.
There was clearly something wrong, Galen thought. Satar should have been there. Then again if Satar had some warning he may have indeed escaped. As if mocking his very thoughts the prince heard laughter suddenly that could not be confused with anyone other than the insane Satar.
His taunting voice rang loudly in the dark chambers as he proclaimed, “Finally you have come to me! Better still, you have come as the truth has dawned on me.”
Following the echo toward the bedrooms adjacent living quarters, Galen answered in a patronizing tone, “And what realization is that, madman?”
Graton moved steadily beside him as they sighted Satar sitting upon what appeared to be a barrel. He sat upon that barrel as if he were holding court for the city’s diplomats.
“I now see that I have made a grievous error in judgment. Your beloved family I have allowed to live and live well indeed considering the situation. I see now, too late mind you, that I should have slain them all and left their skinned carcasses to greet you at the gate.” Satar pronounced, looking quite confident and pleased with himself.
Galen’s face grew red with rage and he barely restrained himself from running in on Satar and finishing this thing immediately.
Instead he stated through clenched teeth, “You are hereby acknowledged for your crimes and as prince of Genossia I ask you, do you want to wait for your execution or shall I be done with it right now?”
Satar did not reply as he stood and drew his enchanted sword. He tested its weight with a mighty two handed swing and broke into an incessant, giggling laughter. Galen needed no more provocation. Charging one another from the several feet that separated them the two swords, wielded by two men of adamant purpose, came together in a shower of multi-colored sparks. Graton and Ralac held their ground knowing Galen’s desire to defeat Satar alone, neither man would interfere unless necessary.
Satar and Galen were raised to be warriors, so as they exchanged blows no one was surprised that no advantage could be seen or taken in that first flurry of lunges, chops, thrusts, and feints. Galen began with an overhand swing that Satar easily turned aside with his own mighty weapon. With swiftness that bespoke of spell craft Satar then stepped forward in a thrust that should have impaled the prince. Galen had learned some time ago that it was simpler to use his foes parried blows to add to his own momentum than try to absorb each blow and return the favor. Too many times had he been off balance when absorbing the blow from a larger enemy and nearly been stabbed through the ribcage. As Satar thrust forward Galen was spinning and ducking in preparation for a strike of his own. Satar again showed his speed as he darted backward to avoid the coming swing.
Instead of continuing the fight though Satar allowed Galen to recover and stand guard. With madness clear in his eyes Satar said, “Did I mention that though I did not harm your sweet sister, I have fully enjoyed her royal fruit?”
Galen had so far done well in controlling his temper and he immediately recognized Satar was simply trying to distract him but at the mention of his dear, innocent sister, the death of Rena came unbidden to mind. He could no longer hold back the tears of rage that described his fury to the world. Snarling his anguish over what had been done to poor Rena he began a dangerous assault on Satar. It was suddenly not the beautiful dance of two skilled swordsmen. It was a battle of pure hatred and rage.
It was all Satar could do at first to fend off the princes’ attacks but eventually Galen tired. Blow after blow aided neither man but Satar's heavier sword battered Galen's defense. His sword arm was numb and tingling. The prince was the quicker of the two but his lack of magical assistance left him without any advantage. Once, as Satar lifted his elbows above his shoulders preparing for a sweeping swing Galen made a low lunge that should have gutted the madman but with a flash of red an enchanted gem protected him just enough and winked out, its magic expended. Galen’s sword skittered downward. Off-balance he took a heavy blow from the flat of Satar's blade against his right side and shoulder. Ignoring the stinging pain he rolled forward for Satar’s legs and held his sword straight out to his right, hoping to catch the bigger man as he retreated. Instead, with an agility that belied his greater weight, Satar escaped with a back flip. Galen cursed as he got to his feet while Satar had yet to stop his insane laughing.
Nearby, Graton was peering through the darkness with his acute elven senses trying to find Ralac who had crept away unnoticed. Normally his elven eyes would easily penetrate the darkness but the blackness had become impenetrable to him. Then, a moment later as Satar circled the now panting Galen a shape came into view. At first it looked as if pure darkness had come to life that held in its hands the struggling form of Ralac. Double-taking, Graton realized this was no illusion or trick. The creature indeed held the assassin’s head between its palms and by the slowing resistance Ralac put up, the elf knew he was being crushed. The shadow creature stood well over the head of Ralac and the assassin was now on his knees anyway. Relying on pure instinct Graton loosed the glowing spear of