A Darker Shade of Sorcery - - (leveled readers .txt) 📗

him down, at the foot of a twisted throne.

The throne appeared to be hewn from the bones of many victims, like the bridge had been. Atop this formation of once living beings sat a medium sized figure, hidden beneath a midnight blue cloak and hood.

“At last, Arok, a thousand thanks,” a voice beneath the hood rattled.

Evan stared transfixed. He couldn’t move a muscle, not because of any enchantment, but by pure terror. An army of monsters lapped against the walls like demonic waves as they hissed, crooned and giggled.

He couldn't stop his eyes flitting from side to side, drinking in the grotesqueries leering at him voraciously. Evan knew the only reason they were not upon him now was because of the hooded lord atop the throne, but he sensed it was only a matter of time before the lord gave the order.

His life rushed by in fragments, his quiet upbringing alone with his grandma, how it shattered when she died, the bullying from Olly, the miraculous discovery he was a Venator, the weeks of knowing he was being hunted, and now this, seconds away from death. Never once, even after Evan discovered he was a Venator, did he think his death would come being ripped limb from limb and feasted upon.

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Through his fear-crazed mind he was aware that the hooded figure sniffed. The raw power and dark charisma was such that Evan noticed even the smallest gestures of the figure. This had to be the Dread Lord.

“Your fear is delightful,” the Lord rasped, sick mirth laced in his papery tone.

Evan was unable to look away, as the hooded head slowly rose from its bowed position to face him.

A scream of pure insanity erupted from Evan. The face of the Dread Lord made him scrabble backwards on his hands, screeching.

Kurrlan’s eyes were purely flame, ethereal balls of blue fire that blazed blasphemy.

These sapphire fires were set in an unimaginably grotesque head of saggy grey folds.

Only the eyes and a thin gash of a mouth marked the appalling face. He bore no visible nose, teeth or ears, just lank green hair resembling seaweed which flowed to his shoulders.

Kurrlan laughed hollowly at Evan’s reaction, a sibilant sound that bred despair.

He drew forth a whip of blue fire from the folds of his cloak, flinging it towards Evan lazily.

Evan backed away frenziedly, but the whip snaked around his ankle, scorching the flesh as it touched.

The rows of demons cackled ecstatically as Evan was dragged across the floor.

Kurrlan’s laughter overrode Evan’s screams of terror as he pulled Evan towards him, inch by inch. At last he tugged the whip again and the fire left Evan’s ankle, back into its wielder’s hands.

Evan rolled into a ball, whimpering as he clutched his blistering foot.

“Pathetic,” Kurrlan spat, concealing the whip in his cloak once more.

“It amazes me it took you so long to bring him to me, my dear.”

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Evan looked up, confused as to who Kurrlan was speaking to.

Then he saw her.

She walked out from behind Kurrlan's throne, grinning gleefully, very impressed with herself.

Evan couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't understand what she was doing here.

Why was she smiling? The demons could rip her to pieces at any moment.

“Cera?” he rasped.

*

A tingling sensation, bright light ripping through the dark and then Jed awoke.

Taretta bent over him, her hand resting on Jed’s head where moments before she’d managed to heal him, possibly from death. If Taretta hadn’t been so skilled at healing, Jed suspected he wouldn’t have survived.

After a few confused seconds Jed snapped to attention, lurching to his feet and searching for the demons.

“They have been destroyed,” Tarensen informed him curtly.

Jed’s Novice clothes were splashed black with demon ichors, but his hair was scarlet with his own blood. He looked about blearily, noticing Taretta crouched over Elijah and Emillia as she healed them.

Sintian lounged against the far wall, his dark eyes brooding and downcast, as if deep in thought.

“Where’s Evan?”

“Gone,” said Sintian, clutching a wound at his side, “this big-ass demon grabbed him and jumped out of the castle.”

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“No!”

Jed ran to the nearest window, only cold night and heavy mist stretched beyond.

“We’ve gotta’ go after him,” he shouted. “They’ll kill him!”

“They’ll do worse than that,” Sintian muttered.

“Silence,” Tarensen barked, “Vanderain has returned at last. He will find Evan and bring him back.”

Rage boiled up inside of him.

“Oh, so we’re just supposed to sit here and do nothing, rely on some bloke who hasn’t been here in months to do it for us.”

“Vanderain will not fail,” Tarensen glared.

“How do you know? We don’t even know where he is. He’s never seen Evan, how’s he supposed to find him if a demon’s taken him off to some hell? There are thousands of different worlds. Are you telling me this Vanderain has a better chance than we do? If we don’t hurry Evan will be lost forever.”

Sintian spoke up, “You’ve been out of it for a while, the demon would've taken Evan out of Veneseron by now, it’s hopeless…”

“No,” Tarensen cut in. “I told you Vanderain will find him. For millennia he has roamed the realms, if anyone can find Umbra, it’s him.”

“And what if he’s already dead?” Jed yelled.

Tarensen’s hard lined face softened. “Then there’s nothing we can do.”

The words hit Jed like an avalanche.

Right now, there was a very strong possibility his best friend was dead, eaten alive by demons.

“We have to do something,” desperation filled Jed’s voice. “I can’t just stand here and wait.”

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“You must,” Tarensen commanded. “Now, I must attend to the other Venators,” he strode down the corridor, “and pray Evan was our only casualty.”

Silence reigned after Tarensen left.

Elijah and Emillia staggered to their feet, staring at the blood staining their uniforms.

Jed heard voices faintly. He remembered their group had been separated by the explosion during the battle.

Taretta told them all to stand back as she shifted the pile of rubble using Earth element.

His mind fraught with anxiety, Jed whirled and left without a word as his fellow Venators emerged. He couldn’t stand to be around them all at a time like this.

Horrible visions of what could be happening to Evan refused to leave his head as he left the Master's Citadel back out into the night.

He felt unbearably weak as he walked, his magic drained and every muscle aching.

Despite Taretta healing the wound in his head it throbbed agonisingly.

After a couple of minutes in the cold night air he realised he was being followed.

He whirled to find Sintian behind him, his malevolent eyes glaring.

“If I were you I wouldn’t be so sure if I wanted Evan back.”

“What are you on about?” Jed demanded, in disbelief that Sintian would continue their petty rivalry at a time like this.

“Before he was taken, after you got knocked out, Evan used a magic.”

“So what,” Jed snapped.

“It was a dark magic, a power only certain demons possess, a power only Dread Lords can use.”

Jed didn’t know what to say, was he lying? But why would he?

368

“What was it?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure how Evan did it, or exactly what it was, but I know what it did.”

Sintian hesitated. “He ripped out their souls, Jed. Evan’s sorcery did far worse than kill the demons.”

A long pause ensued between them, until Jed broke it. “It’s no more than they deserve. I’m surprised demons have souls.”

Jed turned and left. Sintian didn't follow again.

Jed tried to push this new revelation away from his mind. As far as he was concerned Evan had never done anything else like that before, and there was still the possibility Sintian could be lying. Either way, it didn’t matter, Evan was his friend and he was missing.

He'd thought the Fortress was supposed to be safe.

He hadn't been strong enough to fight them, he had fallen, and Evan had been left helpless.

But this wasn’t supposed to have happened, they were only Novices. Veneseron shouldn't have been attacked. Why? How?

Above all he hoped no one else had been hurt in addition to Evan, he couldn’t bring himself to imagine someone might’ve been killed.

Brooke. The thought reverberated through his consciousness.

None of them had seen her throughout the battle. In fact, Jed hadn’t seen her for perhaps a day before.

Where was she?

*

369

Brooke struggled to keep her eyes open. They kept attempting to seal themselves shut as she fought fatigue.

Daggenite stared serenely down at her, his scales as red as Arantay’s hair.

The sounds of battle had faded, the cackles and shrieks of the demons had vanished. She prayed that meant good news.

But, if the demons were beaten, why hadn't Arantay come back?

At one point there’d been a soul-shattering cry from the forest.

Daggenite’s head had snapped in the direction of the cry, a scream full of more despair and grief than she'd ever heard. She thought Daggenite had wanted to fly off and leave her, but Arantay's command kept him in place.

Brooke attempted to sit up, breathing jaggedly against the pain coursing through her body, as she did two figures burst out onto the roof, swords raised.

The Arch-Realmers gasped when they saw her. Their swords and armour were marred with demon blood, but they appeared unhurt.

Lok, ash-blonde hair for once dirty and untidy, looked immensely relieved; he rushed to her side.

Daggenite growled as Lok approached. Lok glanced at the magnificent beast once wearily before proceeding towards her and bending down.

“Thank Rueda, we-we thought you might’ve died.”

His blue eyes still blazing from the battle Tyrell said, “We tried to reach you as fast as we could, but there were so many demons in the way.”

“It’s okay. Arantay, well his dragon, killed the monsters after me.”

“Arantay,” Lok said sharply, “where is he?”

“I don’t know, he jumped off the roof. The forest I think, but I can’t be sure.”

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Tyrell nodded. “He must've seen the demon scum off back through the portal. I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

With a nod to Lok, Tyrell departed.

Lok placed his hand gently on her shoulders. “Here let me.” As Lok lifted Brooke to her feet Daggenite growled.

“Easy beast.” Lok eyed the great behemoth. “She’s fine now. I’m here.”

The dragon gave a thunderous snort before spreading his wings and leaping off the castle, soaring towards the forest.

Lok’s hands remained on Brooke’s shoulders as her body trembled. “I’ll be okay,”

she rasped. “I just need to get some sleep I think.”

Lok nodded, his large brown eyes staring into her own amber.

His gaze averted as he watched the gargantuan dragon begin to skim the tree tops, already far away. “Bet you that brute finds Tay before Tyrell does.” A crooked smile broke his heart shaped face.

Brooke didn’t respond, wishing it was her that could find Arantay first.

She