"Tell me what the dwarves are after, old man," Reaton-Stav hissed. "I'm in no mood to fool with you today. I promise you pain like you've never even imagined if you don't tell me what you know."
"I know nothing more than I've already told you," Debain said. "Nothing."
"Put him on the table and buckle in his arms and legs," Reaton-Stav told his undead servant. He waited until Debain was strapped down in a spread-eagle position.
"Go get me the hammer," he commanded. "I'll give you one more chance to tell me. If you don't, then you will regret your hesitation forever."
"I don't know what you want to know," Debain answered through clenched teeth. He was already in so much pain he didn't think he could feel anymore, but was sure he was wrong.
Reaton-Stav took the heavy metal hammer from his servant and leaned over Debain so he could look into his fear-filled eyes. "You will tell me, old man. I swear it." Then, with a savage fury, the thin young man awkwardly brought the hammer down on Debain's shins over and over again until both of his legs, from the knees down, were nothing but pulp.
Just as Debain's screams faded and consciousness began to leave him, the boy put his hand on Debain's forehead and sent another blast of healing magic into him. It wasn't enough to heal his bones, just enough to keep him conscious so he could feel how broken they were.
Then the questions started again.
Lord Ulrich didn't know where it was he went when he entered the cavern that Pharark called home, but he knew it wasn't a place in this world. It was a far darker place that seemed to shift and stretch continuously while somehow staying somewhat the same. The rough, rocky walls of Pharark's cave were embedded with jewels of every size and type. Even the spiky stalactites hanging from roof, and the stalagmites jutting from floor outside the path leading to Pharark's throne, glittered. The exposed gems reflected light from two massive fire basins dug on either side of the demon's throne. The throne was nothing more than a pile of bones from every creature known to the realm and others Lord Ulrich had never dreamt of. The demon sat perched atop this pile squatted on scaly purple legs, with his small wings folded behind him. His massive, lumpy head was more eyes and teeth than anything else. Making it seem even larger was the small, flat piggish nose that lay like two open holes on his wretched face. Lord Ulrich was reminded of a cherub statue he had seen when he was but a slave boy of the kingdom. Pharark's body was like that of a chubby, malformed child.
Pharark spoke to a rock troll who was on bended knee in front of the oily pool that lay between him and the pile of bones the demon sat upon.
Lord Ulrich knew it was Craggon, king of the rock trolls, who was getting from the demon the rarest of things it ever offered. Pharark was giving Craggon praise.
Lord Ulrich hated Craggon and would love nothing more than to relieve him of his putrid head for all the pain and anguish his rock trolls had caused the gothicans back when they were first forced into the mountains. The only thing Lord Ulrich hated more than the rock trolls were the humans who had driven them there in the first place. But Ulrich was one of the kingdom's biggest mistakes. He was born in the new palace as the child of enslaved builders. Ulrich had gotten an education while he was there, a good one, and when King Barden's father was crushed under stones hurled by revolting slaves, Ulrich took great satisfaction in knowing it was his own father who had thrown the boulder that crushed the old king's skull. Only a child at the time, his quick wit and somewhat normal adult human size allowed him to escape before then Prince Barden, the new King of Narvoza, gave his first order, which was to kill all the gothicans.
Since then, Lord Ulrich had made it his life's mission to build an army capable of destroying the murderous humans, and he thought he'd done so. With Pharark came the means of doing it with total surprise, and if Ulrich had to tolerate and fight beside the disgusting rock trolls to get his revenge and take back the place of his birth, then he would do it. Once Narvoza fell, the trolls could have back the mountains the gothicans had been forced to cower in for so long.
When Craggon rose and walked past Lord Ulrich, he made no sound or expression of acknowledgment that the other was even present.
"Ahhh, Lord Ulrich," Pharark bellowed in his deep, gravelly voice. A gothican skull tumbled down the side of the pile and splashed down in one of the flaming pools at its base. It ended up right beside the skull of a what might have been a small dragon. "Are your warriors in position?"
"Yes, great destroyer," Lord Ulrich answered, finding that his voice wavered and his body trembled in the presence of the malevolent demon. "As of yesterday, all my warriors are staged and ready, just north of the Nepranese border, as you commanded."
"And King Rayden? Has he kept his mouth shut?" The demon's huge red eyes were split by black stripes that widened as his bony brows narrowed and focused on Ulrich. The gothican warlord had to fight to keep from turning to run away.
"As far as I know he has.” Lord Ulrich swallowed back his fear. "Once again, he has requested to meet you personally. We are so close now, though, that we could take Nepram in a few days.” He swallowed again, then added, "If you command it."
"Not yet!" Pharark yelled. His hot fetid breath blew Ulrich's long black hair out behind him like a full gust of wind might. "I will tell you where and when to attack."
Pharark leaned down toward him. "Krookin Bloodthorn will find what I seek soon, and then we will destroy humanity completely." The demon grinned. "Now flee my presence and be ready to attack on my command."
Lord Ulrich stood slowly, trying not to betray the terror he felt, but just as he turned to walk away, Pharark put his head back down behind him. The demon's maw split as he took in a deep breath.
"I SAID FLEE ME!" he yelled with so much force that Lord Ulrich was blown a few steps forward and had no problem running out of the cavern as fast as his legs could carry him.
"Mighty Pharark, demon of destruction, answer my call, for I have news of something you seek."
Pharark resituated himself atop his throne of skulls and looked down into one of the oily pools at its base. Reaton-Stav's face formed into view and rippled with the pool's oily surface.
"Mighty Pharark, master of all that is broken, please answer my call."
"What is it, necromancer?" Pharark growled, causing Reaton-Stav to step back and cringe out of fear and reverence. "What do you know?"
"I have information about the Sapphire of Souls that might interest you," Reaton-Stav said.
"Yes," Pharark hissed excitedly, "Tell me what you know."
"Your vileness, it seems that a group of elves and dwarves, along with a human boy who carries an amulet I covet, have set out on a quest to find what you seek before you can get your hands on it."
"Their quest must not succeed," Pharark bellowed angrily. "They must be stopped at all cost. Where are they now?"
"The man who told me all of this did so only after long and grueling torture. I'm afraid he will tell me no more, but I have kept him alive." Reaton-Stav smiled wickedly. "Just in case you want to find out what else he knows. I'm sure you have methods of extracting information far greater than what I am capable of."
"Yes, necromancer, I do,” Pharark smiled back, revealing his huge sharp teeth. "I will come to your Necratorium at once and handle this matter personally."
Krookin Bloodthorn had waited patiently most of the day, but Pharark hadn't come. The king of the wood trolls hoped he hadn't angered the demon. He also hoped something horrible hadn't happened, but he knew better than to leave before Pharark arrived. His nervousness grew into utter fear and paranoid visions of the wrath the demon would bring down on he and his wood trolls grew to horrendous proportions as he waited, and waited, and waited.
End of Preview
To purchase Sapphire of Souls, Fantastica Book Two, or to read it via Kindle Unlimited, visit:
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Other titles by
M. R. Mathias
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Book One - The Sword and the Dragon
Book Two - Kings, Queens, Heroes, & Fools
Book Three - The Wizard & the Warlord
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Book One – Through the Wildwood
Book Two – Dragon Isle
Book Three – Saint Elm’s Deep
Book Four – That Frigid Fargin’ Witch
Book Five – Trigon Daze
Book Six – Paragon Dracus
Book Seven – The Far Side of Creation
Book Eight – The Long Journey Home
Book Nine – The Tome of Arbor
Book Ten – A Gossamer Lens
The Saga of the Dragoneers
The First Dragoneer – Free for Kindle
The Royal Dragoneers – Nominated, Locus Poll 2011
Cold Hearted Son of a Witch
The Confliction
The Emerald Rider
Rise of the Dragon King
Blood and Royalty – Winner. 2015 Readers Favorite Award,
and 2015 Kindle Book Award Semifinalist
Short Stories:
Alpha Sint-Holo
Autumn’s Breath
The King of Fools
Crimzon & Clover I - Orphaned Dragon, Lucky Girl
Crimzon & Clover II - The Tricky Wizard
Crimzon & Clover III - The Grog
Crimzon & Clover IV - The Wrath of Crimzon
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Crimzon & Clover VI – One Bad Bitch
Crimzon &Clover VII – The Fortune’s Fortune
Master Zarvin’s Action and Adventure Series #1 Dingo the Dragon Slayer
Master Zarvin’s Action and Adventure Series #2 Oonzil the oathbreaker
Master Zarvin’s Action and Adventure Series #3 The Greatest Quest
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Taerak's Void (Fantastica Book 1) Page 23