Genesis (Legends of the Kilanor Book 1)

by Jared Stone

  Lucian glanced down into the dark waters of the baptismal font. Dipping the tips of his fingers into it, he withdrew them and wiped them off against the white marble rim surrounding the basin. As he did so, crimson red streaks followed this motion across and down over the side. Horrified, Lucian stared at his blood-soaked fingertips.

  “G-Gus…,” stuttered Lucian, his voice trembling.

  “What?” replied Gus gruffly, with irritation in his voice from Lucian’s constant nagging. He popped up from his crouched posture to stand before the terrified boy. As Gus looked down at Lucian’s out-stretched fingers, all he could say was, “Damn….”

  “Bahahaha!” A laugh rang out from behind Lucian and reverberated through the high walls and ceiling of the church around them. Lucian could feel it cut right into his very soul as he slowly turned around and looked toward the front of the hall.

  A dark figure sat atop the marble slab of the altar on the elevated platform. His arms were stretched out behind him, and his legs were crossed and swinging in glee as he laughed. The golden coin still hung from his neck, and his sinister silver eyes flashed in the spotlights shining down upon him. The demon’s dark features were accentuated by the illumination from above, and Lucian still couldn’t shake the feel-ing that he had seen that face somewhere before.

  “So nice of you to reveal the location of the dagger for me!” Zagan cried as he leapt down from his perch. The coin bounced up and down on his chest when his feet landed on the floor. “I could have been searching for it all night!”

  With this, the smug demon began advancing slowly toward the two men. With each step of his black boots against the marble flooring, Lucian could feel his heart pumping faster and faster. Reaching out in front of him with his palm facing upward, Zagan sternly commanded, “Now, hand it over.”

  Reaching up behind him and unsheathing his blade, Gus mockingly said, “Sure! Why don’t you just come and get it?” He held the slightly curved sword out in front of him in a defensive pose, and Lucian began to walk backwards on trembling knees to stand behind Gus.

  “I was hoping you would say that,” replied Zagan, wearing a devilish grin which stretched from ear to ear.

  9 - Conflict

  Friday, October 31st

  The demon rushed at the two men without warning, arm outstretched before him with his fingers curled as if they were claws. Lucian fell back in alarm, his butt hitting the hard marble ground with such force that he felt his teeth jostle around in his mouth. Gus met the advance of their assailant with a sidestep that was almost quicker than the eye could see, and he sent his blade slicing down onto the dark one’s back. As the weapon met the demon’s long black coat, the sound of tearing cloth issued forth. Gus fluidly took a step back with his right foot, finishing the strike with a smooth, gliding downward motion.

  Zagan paused for a moment in a crouched position following Gus’ counterattack. Slowing rising until he was standing vertical again, the demon turned to face his adversary. From his position on the ground, Lucian stared in horror as a portion of Zagan’s garments drooped open behind him, exposing the hole that Gus had just cut into them. Underneath, perfectly untouched beige skin was clearly visible. It appeared that the demonic possession of this human body had strengthened it far beyond the limits of a normal mortal form.

  Reaching behind himself and running a hand along the torn fabric, Zagan’s silvery eyes narrowed with irritation. “You ruined my new coat,” he said to Gus disappointedly. “I really liked this coat.”

  Gus realigned his stance to resume his defensive posture. Seemingly unsurprised by the impenetrable nature of Zagan’s flesh, Gus grinned defiantly at him. “You and I have a little score to settle. I plan to make you pay for what you did to me last time,” he said.

  With this, the Kílán lunged forward with his sword in a stabbing motion at the demon. Zagan twirled around to avoid the thrust, his long black coat flying up through the air as he did so like a flurry of bats. As Gus’ body sailed past him, the demon kicked his left foot up and connected it powerfully against his opponent’s back. Gus was forced forward, sliding against the marble flooring before planting his foot firmly to the ground and pivoting to once again face the demon.

  The Kílán grinned as he lifted his sword to the side of his head again and ran at the demon. Coming within a few feet of his target, Gus began to yell and slice through the air while continuing to advance. With every swipe of the sword, the demon calmly kept pace by stepping backwards and using his arms to deflect the blows. So fluid were his movements that it seemed more of a dance than a fight, and Zagan easily fended off Gus’ vain attempts.

  Leaping back after yet another worthless strike, Gus repositioned himself with his sword held on guard before him. “Looks like this’ll be tougher than I first thought,” he stated, sounding almost pleased. Gus briefly closed his eyes, and his hands suddenly began to emanate a soft blue light. The light twisted like flames from the hilt up the blade, eventually engulfing the entire sword in this pale blue energy.

  At this, Zagan let out a hearty laugh from the pit of his stomach. “You fool,” said the demon, taking a step toward Gus and lowering his right hand to his side. As he opened his palm, the light around it seemed to dissipate as a single point of blackness expanded into the size of a basketball. “Tonight is Samhain,” the demon continued confidently. “My tie to other realms is at its strongest now. I will not be challenged!”

  As he screamed out this last point, the dark one shifted his left shoulder back and quickly threw his right hand forward, releasing the spinning ball of dark energy directly at Gus. Gus planted one foot securely behind him and held out his sword as he braced for impact. Upon connecting with the blade, the concentrated darkness exploded with a BANG, sending Gus skyward and flying several feet before landing on his back and sliding a few yards across the open space before the altar. His sword clanged loudly as it hit the floor beside him, its blue light flickering momentarily before fading entirely. Gus lay motionless on the ground after this, and the demon began striding over to his sprawled out form with confidence.

  Lucian, still witnessing the battle from the ground, could see that Gus wouldn’t be able to do this alone. Thankfully, so consumed was he by his hatred for the Kílán, the demon had seemingly forgotten about Lucian’s existence for the time being; but Lucian was confident that this would not be the case for long. Placing one hand on the ground and pushing himself up, Lucian stood. As the demon closed the distance between his victim and himself, Lucian planted his feet shoulder-width apart and closed his eyes. He tried to recall what Panhavant and Gus had taught him.

  Okay Lucian, empty your mind…, thought Lucian to himself. Come on, just empty it. Lucian breathed in and out a couple of times in a manner that was more forced than relaxed. You need to save Gus! Lucian focused as hard as he could on emptying his mind. His heart pounded feverishly in his chest, and the boy could see no way of calming it. Nothingness. Nothingness. As his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed together, Lucian tried his very best to force everything from his mind.

  Lucian snapped his eyes open and glanced down at his outstretched hand. His palm remained as dark and dull as it had before. Jerking his head up, he looked again at Zagan’s deadly approach toward Gus’ helpless body. The demon was only about five paces away now. Shaking his hand in quick jerking motions, Lucian tried to generate the energy he knew he needed to save his companion. Closing his eyes again, he repeated, Empty, empty, empty…, in his head. But still, he felt nothing.

  As he looked up again at the spectacle before him, Lucian saw Gus just starting to roll over on his side and brace himself to get up. But, by this point, Zagan had already arrived next to the fallen Kílán. With one hand, the dark figure flipped Gus over onto his back and reached inside the brown leather jacket. Withdrawing the bundle of red satin, he stood back up and placed it inside his own black coat. Lucian knew he had to act immediately if he intended to stop him.

  “Dammit,” cur
sed Lucian as he glared down at his worthless hand. Running over to the pew directly to his right, Lucian reached over the front barrier and withdrew a hymnal from its wooden nest. Reaching back behind his head, Lucian screamed, “Hey, dimwit!” and hurled the book as hard as he possibly could at the demon’s head.

  The hymnal sailed through the air, pages fluttering loudly like a wounded bird in flight, and landed several feet away from the intended target with a surprisingly loud THUD. Lucian had never been very good at throwing anything other than javelin, and, although he could throw quite far, accuracy was never his forte. But the taunt had achieved its desired result anyway, and the dark figure slowly turned around, leaving Gus to recover on the ground behind him.

  “Dimwit!?” snapped the demon, as if emotionally scarred by this verbal affront to his honor. “Who are you calling a dimwit, boy?” continued Zagan as he scowled and began approaching Lucian.

  Lucian froze. Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought out the rest of his action plan before throwing the book. Now he had a very angry demon coming at him with few options for defending himself. Lucian stood rooted to the spot as he watched the dark form coming nearer and nearer. He looked down one more time at his hand in panic, really hoping to see a flicker of light. But, quicker than Lucian could even say the word “empty,” Zagan rushed forward with the speed of a cobra strike and stood before him. Although their bodies were of a similar height, it felt to Lucian that the demon towered over him imposingly.

  “I am Zagan,” hissed the demon as he brought his face only inches from Lucian’s. “I am a Great King of the underworld. I command legions of demons, make men wise, and can turn your blood to oil….” As he said this, his tone gradually rose in intensity, so that, by his final point, he was screaming with frustration. “I AM NO DIMWIT!!”

  As positively terrified as he was in this moment, Lucian also could not help but think how sadly pathetic Zagan seemed, getting so worked up over one childish insult. Just let it go…, thought Lucian almost instinctively to himself; but he wasn’t in the position to properly articulate that at that time, and he remained frozen in place, speechless and staring into the silvery eyes of death before him.

  Composing himself once again, Zagan leaned back away from Lucian and stood facing him. Reaching his hand up to Lucian’s forehead, the demon held out his forefinger and made contact with Lucian’s flesh. As a grin spread across his face, Zagan said, “Farewell.”

  As Lucian’s eyes grew wide in terror, he suddenly witnessed the demon’s own eyes flying horizontally across his field of vision as their owner’s body soared through the air and came crashing down into several rows of pews, knocking them over with a series of thunderous crashes like dominoes. Lucian strongly exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding and looked to his left.

  There, panting, with a huge grin on his face, stood Gus, doubled over with his palms on his knees to support his upper body. The crystal pendant which hung around his neck swung like a pendulum below his chin. He chuckled briefly and looked up at Lucian. “Dimwit…,” he jokingly sputtered before dropping back to the ground. Lucian crouched down to examine him.

  This respite was cut short by a roar from their right as a pew was thrown to the side and the demon emerged from the heap. Standing there among the broken wood, Zagan wiped away saliva from his mouth and growled, “Okay, now I am really going to destroy you!” With that, Zagan gathered another blast of dark energy and sent it flying at the two humans crouched on the ground. With excruciating pain searing through the right side of his body, Lucian experienced the peculiar sensation of being weightless as he spun through the air and up onto the elevated platform beside the altar.

  With a thud, Lucian’s body made contact with the floor, and he rolled over a few times before coming to a stop with his chest facing down. He struggled to breathe, and there was a stabbing pain on the lower left side of his ribs. Barely able to open his eyes, Lucian peered out of squinted lids to see his motionless companion lying beside him. As Lucian painfully attempted to reach out toward Gus, he heard the pounding of confident footsteps ascending the platform. With a maniacal laugh, Zagan said, “Well, Argus. That is two wins for me!” He held his hand out, aimed at the couple of crumpled forms on the ground, and began gathering his demonic energy for the death blow.

  Suddenly, a deafening SLAM echoed through the vast body of the church. At the far end of the center aisle, the large wooden double-doors of the building had been thrown open. And, silhouetted against the moonlit sky outside, a small, slumped-over figure stood in the entranceway, supporting himself on a tall, twisted walking stick that was taller than he was. As he wobbled into the church, the rags cover-ing his body swayed with him, and two enormous earlobes kept rhythm with his steps. The building was silent as the little figure made his way down the aisle, and even Zagan did not speak until the little man was halfway to the altar.

  “Panhavant,” Zagan spat with disgust. Lucian tilted his head to better see the little old man as he stood motionless between the pews before them.

  “Why are there so many interruptions!?” shouted Zagan loudly into the vaulted space before him with great frustration. The demon then brought his empty silver eyes back to the tiny sage. “It is unlike you to meddle in such affairs, old man. Run back home now, and care not for the dealings of petty mortals!”

  “Like Straw Dogs!” Panhavant stated emphatically, elevating his finger in front of him as though he had made a strong counterargument.

  Zagan let out an exasperated sigh. He looked down at the pulsating ball of dark energy still in his grasp before quickly hurling it at the ancient individual before him. With a CRACK that sounded like a lightning strike, the place where the old man stood burst upwards, sending big chips of marble raining down on the pews beside it.

  “NOOOO!” cried out Lucian as he writhed on the ground. He tried to support himself to sit up, but his arms were still tingling terribly and he realized he couldn’t even feel his legs. He lay there helplessly as the demon laughed above him.

  “Good riddance,” mumbled Zagan. Turning around to eliminate the other two pests behind him, the demon stepped back with a start as his gaze was immediately met by that of Panhavant, who now stood within arm’s length of the demon. The tiny little man stared up at Zagan unflinchingly with his big bushy eyebrows raised in a look of intrigue.

  “What the …?” snarled Zagan as he repositioned himself with sturdier footing. Letting out a quick growl, the dark one swiped his deadly hand with terrifying swiftness to decapitate the shriveled old form. Instead, he was met with only the whooshing sound of the air through his fingers. Stumbling forward, Zagan caught himself and looked around frantically for his target.

  “Heh heh…,” an aged voice giggled from behind the demon. Whirling around in frustration, the tall dark attacker screamed, “Stay still!!”

  Suddenly growing quiet as the smile fell from his face, Panhavant tilted his head to the side as if in consideration of what should be said. Then, with a nod of assuredness, the little man stated, “I am still. Only you are moving!”

  “Raarrrrr!” roared Zagan. “Enough of your accursed riddles, sage!” This last word was saturated with hatred, and the demon once again began gathering his dark energy to launch another attack.

  Delicately, Panhavant reached out with the withered arm that grasped his staff and carefully touched the wood to the demon’s chest. So slow and deliberate was the action that the dark one could only stand there and watch as he did it. Making contact with Zagan, the tip of the stick immediately exploded with a brilliantly blinding light. Lucian, who had been watching in awe the whole time, turned his head back to the ground to shield his eyes. The demon was blasted back from where he stood with such force that his body met the marble altar and cleaved it in two as he busted through. Sailing a few yards further, the demon came to an abrupt stop as his body crashed against the wall upon which the morbid cross was hung. The impact caused the sculpture of Christ to swing wildly
back and forth until it almost slipped from the nail upon which it rested. As the light gradually diminished again back into the head of the staff, Panhavant stood there, motionless and silent.

  “Uhhhhh…,” moaned the demon as he struggled to stand. Glaring up at Panhavant with all-consuming loathing in his eyes, Zagan hissed, “I have what I came for.” With this, he lowered his head and his body began to dematerialize from the ground up, twirling away like smoke issuing from a snuffed out wick. As the last remnants of his form drifted off through the air, Panhavant once again planted the base of his walking stick on the ground beside him.

  Lucian raised his head from the ground and stared gratefully at their savior. Panhavant turned toward him and smiled. “Here you are,” he said jovially. The tiny old sage slowly made his way over to Lucian and placed his shriveled hand on the boy’s hair. As light radiated out from his fingers, Lucian experienced a comforting warmth penetrating his head and flowing through his entire body. Feeling returned to his extremities, and even the soreness from his fall to the floor gradually dissipated.

  Smiling brightly as Lucian pushed his upper body off of the ground and brought his knees under him for support, Panhavant then hobbled over to where Gus lay. Resting his hand down upon the Kílán’s head, Lucian watched as Gus, too, was miraculously healed. Groaning, Gus put his right arm down and turned himself so he was lying on his side. He took his left hand and vigorously rubbed his still-sore cranium.

  “Thanks, Panhavant,” Gus said in earnest, nodding at the little master. Panhavant stood with a giant smile on his face, his crooked teeth unabashedly pointing out in all directions.

  Lucian lifted himself up and dusted the debris off his shirt and pants. As he felt his muscles and joints continue to loosen and relax, he cautiously moved over to Gus and held out his arm for support. Gus grabbed onto Lucian’s forearm and allowed his companion to pull him up from the ground. The two of them stood and looked at each other with great relief and mutual understanding, and Lucian turned to thank Panhavant again for all he had done. But, turning around, Lucian saw that the church was empty. The boy stood there with a puzzled look on his face.