The Savage Peak: A Morgalla prequel

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The Savage Peak: A Morgalla prequel Page 18

by Jon David


  Just when the fear got the better of her, and she thought she might suffocate, she felt her hair pulled and out of the water she came. She coughed, trying to draw in precious air. When her vision was no longer blurry, she saw Widow there with her sword, practicing. She spun the blade with lightning speed around the room, slicing at the air. The woman’s companion tossed her an apple, and she cut it in half mid-air. She proceeded to do the same to other fruits of varying sizes. It was really then Morgalla realized the woman was not practicing.

  She’s warming up.

  “Hold her here,” Widow called.

  With her arm twisted behind her and her hair pulled, Morgalla fought—to no avail—for release. The massive demon was too strong for her. She was presented to Widow, and Morgalla felt a blow to her midsection. As Morgalla coughed on the floor, Widow knelt to her. “I’ve been keeping my skills sharp. Can you say the same?”

  “Yes, you truly are the terror of fruit everywhere.”

  Widow put on a blank stare, but Morgalla realized that within her was an erupting volcano. Morgalla felt another strike, this time to her face.

  “Where are your snide comments now, Morgalla? Nothing to say?”

  “Gimme a minute.”

  “Put her in again,” Widow commanded.

  Her companion, Plor, responded and dunked Morgalla’s head into the water again. She struggled as hard as she could, but it was no use.

  Hold your breath. You can do it.

  Morgalla was held under even longer now, and it seemed for a moment the water might claim her. She heard voices, sounding as if they were arguing. She was slipping into unconsciousness. Just as it seemed like the end, she was pulled from the water and air filled her lungs again. She gasped and coughed, thrown down onto the floor.

  “I had hoped for more of a fight,” Widow said. “You know, Plor here is sad you killed his brother.”

  “I didn’t kill him. A witch did.”

  Widow frowned because she knew Morgalla was telling the truth. “Well…I suppose you could tell him, but he doesn’t speak English.”

  Morgalla had another comment on deck but decided another route. “You…loved him. Harek, I know it. And I’m sorry.”

  Widow spat to the floor. “Your sympathy…”

  “I know,” Morgalla interrupted. “It disgusts you. But…this whole system, if you can call it that, is just doomed to fail.”

  “We are strong because of it.”

  “Did you see how Makraka turned his back on his own son? I was forced to kill him, and I didn’t want to.”

  Plor shouted something in a different language. Widow replied to him with the same ferocity.

  Morgalla wasn’t done. “We fight amongst each other, and most of the time it’s for revenge or for a reputation.” As Morgalla spoke she could feel the shift in Widow’s soul, the rage starting to subside. Was she finally reaching her? she wondered. “After you kill me, Delilah will come after you. And you know her well enough to realize she’ll enjoy fighting all of you.”

  Widow’s companion continued to roar out in his native tongue. Widow’s soul was shielded from his words.

  “He had no choice,” Widow said.

  “Neither did I,” Morgalla replied. “I know you would trade me for him in a heartbeat, but what’s done is done.”

  Widow got in close to her, the rage building within again. “Delilah would never know that I killed you. You’d be gone, and I’d be a hell of a lot happier.”

  “We both know the only reasons to kill someone in Hell are either for revenge or to build a rep. Harek will still be dead. The man who put him there, your real enemy, Makraka, will still be alive.” Widow’s rage burned in her heart, but her fury wasn’t at Morgalla. “Remember who really dumped Harek inside that pit to fight me.”

  Plor shouted something, the fury building. He didn’t wait for Widow’s orders, dunking Morgalla’s face back into the cold water. She struggled. The demon held her under for even longer now, and for a moment she thought she might pass out. Without warning, but thankfully so, she was pulled from the water. She coughed and fought for precious breath.

  Morgalla looked around and saw Makrus with his soldiers, including Krug with his whip. A frail figure emerged from the group. Deadra threw off her black cloak and held out a small knife.

  “She’s mine,” Widow roared.

  Deadra hissed and looked up at the demon. She took hold of Morgalla’s hair and cut a lock from her head. She grinned, exposing her crooked, yellow teeth. Morgalla’s hand went to her neck and realized her medallion was gone. She looked up to Widow and couldn’t believe she was wearing it.

  Morgalla felt the moods of those around her. They were all like caged beasts, fury begging for release. But release to whom? They sure didn’t like her, but with some luck, the hate for each other might be greater.

  Makrus wagged his finger at Morgalla. “Young lady, you’ve been super naughty. You took advantage of my hospitality and hurt the feelings of my poor Giles.”

  Morgalla sat on the floor, finding it hard to breathe. She could only mutter one word. “I…”

  “Oh, don’t be too hard on yourself.” Makrus went on with a chuckle. “I actually found what you did to Giles rather funny.”

  “Hey,” Giles called out.

  “Oh, silence. Human bitch…” Makrus grumbled. “But I’m willing to forgive you, girl. That is…if you’re a little more friendly.”

  Morgalla’s heart sank. Makrus could easily tell.

  “Oh, come now,” Makrus chimed. “Don’t be like that. Come…this way.”

  Plor and Widow did not approve, but with Makrus’s orders, they wouldn’t dare disobey. Morgalla thought for a moment she might reach out and grab her medallion from Widow’s neck, but Plor stood between them.

  Morgalla followed the master of the castle. Two guards marched on either side of him. She couldn’t help but notice that everyone else was following. She checked over her shoulder and spotted Deadra switching between jeers and smiles at her.

  Looks like she can’t decide which side to join.

  Soon they were in a large chamber, as opulent as the rest of the castle. She almost bumped into a statue on top of a pedestal.

  The floor was dark stone with golden circles that extended all around. Curtains were drawn, and Makrus motioned for Deadra to step forward. The witch held out an amulet and spoke an incantation. From the floor came green and blue light. Images appeared all around Morgalla. There were pictures of demons conquering other worlds, other races, their flags atop hills on worlds that Morgalla had never seen.

  “Do you know just how many worlds in which the Dark One’s influence is felt?” Makrus asked. Morgalla shook her head. “Too many. Commanding billions of soldiers and other minions, must get rather difficult to keep track of them all, yes?”

  “I…I guess.”

  “Sure it is. But, I would never venture into anything without a little insurance.” Makrus approached, his hands clasped together in front of his bulging belly. “You look like the kind of girl who doesn’t want to be part of…all of this.”

  His clawed hand waved around at the images. Morgalla didn’t answer with words, but he could see into her heart with ease. All the images disappeared and were replaced with what looked like planets. They moved around in orbits. Some worlds were barren rock. Others were lush green, and one was as white as snow. Another glowed red with molten lava. Some of the spheres were blue and green, blessed with land and water.

  Makrus continued, “Well, you know what? Neither do I. Despite what some might say, I’m actually a very non-violent person.” A look of disgust came over his face. “I hate soiling my hands with such things.”

  He’s telling the truth…sort of.

  “Just look at what I’ve done with the people of Freedom…well, whatever they call their silly little town. Other demon lords would have slaughtered them all. Have I? I don’t wish to kill anyone.”

  He’s telling the truth.

 
; Dante, Makrus’s pet dracon, sauntered into the chamber. His claws clicked against the stone floor. His tail gave a wag at the sight of his master who returned a kiss on the beast’s head.

  “What do you want from me?” Morgalla asked.

  The lord snickered and wagged his index finger at her. “Clever girl, getting to the point. I like that. See, all other demons always want to conquer each other, dominate and take what they have. Me? I want to live in peace. Co-exist with one another.”

  “With you in charge?”

  His voice bellowed. “Who better?”

  Morgalla felt all eyes on her. She had never been this uncomfortable in her life. She looked slightly to her left and saw Deadra standing there smiling. Morgalla glanced over her shoulder to all the minions at Makrus’s command.

  “I have a dream, Mor…” Makrus thought a moment, snapping his fingers. “Remind me again?”

  “Morgalla.”

  Makrus looked at an imaginary thing in front of him. “I see before me a chess board. You ever play chess?”

  “No.”

  “Human game. It’s where you have a board and game pieces, and your opponent has game pieces. Some are worth nothing.” He studied some human soldiers against the wall. “Like them, for example. They all have a function. Some are rather valuable.”

  Morgalla motioned to Deadra. “Like her.”

  “Oh, indeed,” Makrus replied and then returned to his rant. “I forget what the goal of the game is. I’ve never played it, but I see my own chess board. I have Deadra, Krug, Dante…and with some mentoring…you on my board.”

  Morgalla had noticed that Rey-chell had entered the room, giving the demon a dirty look.

  “And my…function?” Morgalla asked.

  Makrus chuckled and so did some others in the room. The snark in her comment raised more than one eyebrow.

  “Well, you have a sharp wit. You make me laugh. But you’re also quick on your feet and with your blade, I understand. However, and this is just a minor observation, you have no lust for the kill.”

  “I fail to see how that’s weakness.”

  Morgalla’s comment was met with a thunderous round of laughter by the demons and humans in the room. Her lips clenched.

  “Child, please,” Makrus said. “You didn’t grow up in Hell, did you? You know how I can tell?”

  “I know how.”

  “This is nonsense,” Widow spouted as she stepped forward. “You want her on your…chessboard when she doesn’t even want to be.”

  “You may have the desire to kill, girl,” Makrus noted. “But you don’t have a kill on your soul, now do you?”

  The cauldron that was her soul bubbled over with rage. Makrus chuckled.

  “Oh, I see the two of you in a little…audition for this job.”

  Morgalla’s response was immediate. “She can have it. I just want to go back home.”

  Morgalla felt her air cut off in an instant and a string around her neck. Krug was quick with his whip as he pulled her down to the hard floor.

  Makrus approached, standing over the helpless demon girl. “I’m afraid I cannot let you do that, girl. See, you’ve seen and heard too much of my operation here. I can’t allow you to let the lords back in Hell know.”

  Morgalla fought for the words. “You…mean the real lords?”

  The sting to his soul was as clear as day to all the demons in the room. Makrus’s eyes burned at her, and he gave a slight kick to her face. He motioned for Deadra to approach.

  The witch held up her hand to Morgalla’s face and recited an incantation. The demon girl felt a rush through her head, recent memories flashing before her eyes. It made her head spin and ache. Deadra smiled again.

  The witch approached Makrus who knelt near her. She whispered something into the demon’s ear. He frowned.

  Makrus grinned at his minions. “Find the woodcarver and kill him.”

  “No,” Morgalla screamed.

  “He is a spy for the Izari,” Makrus said. “Oh, and we have to find all of them and slaughter them too. They’ve been quite the annoyance long enough.”

  Morgalla fought her way out of the grasp of the whip.

  “Mylo didn’t know,” Morgalla begged. “I swear to you, he was being used by them.”

  Makrus scoffed at her words. “Girl, I don’t care. Your only hope to avoid a horrible death is if you hand over the Prism of Akubar to me…now.”

  Morgalla climbed to her feet, but she still hung her head. She took a couple of quick breaths, her head still swimming as to what to do. She watched Makrus picking his teeth with his pinky claw.

  “Well?” he asked. When Morgalla didn’t answer, he sighed. “Listen, girl. You have only two choices: You will die quickly, or you will die slowly. The prism will shield me from the Dark One’s gaze.”

  Widow looked on with curiosity. “It will?”

  “Yes.”

  The woman caressed her chin in contemplation. “Hmm…what if I could get her to talk?”

  Morgalla’s somber mood dropped even lower.

  Oh, no.

  23

  Battle in the Pit

  Widow approached with her weapon in hand. Morgalla didn’t have time to think of a plan. She needed to get Hero back and escape, but for the time being, seeing the blade before her and feeling the iron grip of her captor, options were limited. She went from being on her knees to on her feet in an instant. She leapt up, her horn connecting with Plor’s eye. The beast roared, falling back as his hand went to his wound. Widow swung her sword around, trying to connect with her prey.

  The widow charged again, and Morgalla retreated to the window. Both women crashed through it and tumbled down the roof. As she rolled, Morgalla stretched her arms as far as they would go, freeing her hands just in time to grip the ledge. Widow was able to hold on with her free hand and slash at Morgalla, barely missing her. They both leapt to ledges and ran along the castle walls. Makrus and his entourage watched as Morgalla, with bound wrists, made her way to the ground. He shouted orders for pursuit.

  Morgalla scrambled around the courtyard, avoiding guards and servants. She sensed Widow’s soul through the brush and tried to avoid it, to no avail. The angry demoness swung her sword in a circle, hitting nothing but air, but she could feel Morgalla’s fear and knew she could use it. Morgalla used one of the slashes to finally cut the bonds that held her wrists.

  “Ha,” she shouted.

  Widow swung, again and again, barely missing her quarry who flipped over her. While in flight, Morgalla saw the medallion hanging from her opponent’s neck and was able to snatch it.

  Morgalla didn’t hang around. She was off again and escaped but was cut off from the exit that would lead her to safety. When she saw the swirl of leaves coming from the sky and realized it as a sign Deadra was making her way to the fight, Morgalla saw few options. She remembered the secret passage that led out of the mines.

  She ran to the opening, which led to the caverns below with demons and human soldiers hot on her heels. She avoided a sword being swung at her and connected with a punch and a kick to any adversary she encountered.

  Morgalla ran through the tunnels and got lost a couple of times. She had to remember just where the passage was that would take her outside. Several times, she thought she had found the right exit but was cut off when she felt the sting of a whip to her leg. She fell to the rock floor and turned to see Plux and Krug standing there. Plux chuckled as he flicked his wrist again. This time the whip wrapped around Morgalla’s neck. The air cut off, but she fought against it. She summoned Hero while Plor kicked the sword from her hand. The two demons mocked her in their own language, laughing at her pain.

  Plor kicked her in the stomach and reached down. He lifted her with ease from the neck. Morgalla struggled, but the demon was too strong.

  Plor spoke in broken English. “You…die.”

  He continued to laugh, but his joy was cut off in an instant. Morgalla had reached into her boot and took out her kn
ife. She summoned all her strength to drive the blade through Plor’s temple.

  “You first.”

  The demon wasn’t able to react because he was dead in an instant. His flesh changed to stone, and Morgalla kicked away from him. Krug was surprised but yanked on the whip again. He dragged his prey along the rock. Morgalla tried for Hero, but he was just out of her reach.

  With the whip still tight around her neck, Krug drew her close, his foot on the center of her chest. His eyes burned with rage as he peered down at the demon girl who was slowly being suffocated.

  A tremendous boom rang out, and the demon staggered back. Morgalla coughed as she felt the air return, fighting her way from the whip’s grip.

  She was on her feet with Hero in her hand, ready to fight the beast. On the opposite side of the chasm, Dillon had set up with his deputies, all of them armed and ready for battle.

  The sheriff’s weapon did little but annoy Krug, but it was enough to free Morgalla who didn’t stick around since the demon’s friends were showing up. Morgalla leapt into the abyss and grabbed a chain, which she used to swing to the other side.

  Morgalla was on a ledge above Dillon and his cohorts, who had opened fire at their enemies across the gorge.

  “Get out of here,” Morgalla shouted.

  With all the commotion, Morgalla made her way through the tunnels. Makrus’s human soldiers were cut down by the barrage of bullets, but there were still demons to deal with, and bullets weren’t going to be enough.

  Morgalla tried to make her way to Dillon, but when she turned a corner, she was met by Widow who swung the sword at her. Both women dueled in the close quarters. Due to her surprise attack, Widow had the edge on Morgalla. With a sharp kick, Morgalla was thrown back into the abyss. She fell a long distance before grabbing onto another chain, coming down hard on one of the wooden catwalks below. Widow jumped from ledge to ledge, the fire burning in her soul for her opponent’s death.

  Krug was also going after Morgalla. Dillon noticed the beast and ordered his men to continue the fight. He ran down the tunnels.

 

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