by S. K. Ng
So in desperation, Silver set out to find this demon, thus setting himself on the path of eternal damnation. He travelled from town to town, village to village, begging and stealing along the way. Then one day, after many years of searching, he came across an old man who told him a rumour about a certain mountain. The rumour was that those who had climbed this mountain never came back down. The villagers who lived at the foot of the mountain claimed to hear hair-raising screams coming from it in the dead of night. Then one day, the entire village disappeared. Silver afforded a smile, which confused the old man. Sensing that something was wrong with Silver, the old man left him in a hurry. But the damage, although unintentional, was done. So Silver set out to the mountain named in the rumour, Mount Razorpeaks.
Higher and higher he climbed, the desperate Silver Grambune, until he reached the mouth of a dark cave just before the twin peaks of Mount Razorpeaks. He groped in the dark to feel his way inside the cave and quite expectedly, slipped and fell. He felt his body smash against the rough surfaces and the hard edges of the cave floor. He passed out shortly after.
Some time later, a flicker of light and a horrible stench of death woke him up. He sat up and looked around. He was now in a giant cave chamber. The illumination came from flames dancing on the surface of a river of hot, molten lava, which flowed and weaved around the hollowed and hole-riddled cave walls. And there, sitting on a crude throne made of rock, was a man. Or was he?
Silver picked himself up. He was badly bruised, but otherwise uninjured. As he walked towards the man who sat on the throne, he was slowly able to make out the man’s features; and immediately he realised that this man was not really a man. The ‘man’ who sat on the throne was twice the height of an average man and had a smooth, reddish-pale complexion. His eyes were blood-shot red. There were no irises or pupils in the eyes. They looked like glowing, red oval-shaped gemstones embedded into the eye sockets. There was a black slit on his forehead, straight up above the nose. And when he smiled, Silver could see the two sets of fangs from behind his lips. The man wore what looked to Silver like very elegant clothes made of soft, silk-like fabric. There was a look and feel of elegance to him, this strange man.
Suddenly, the man’s facial features began to change. Two horns grew out at each top corner of his head and the smooth complexion turned rough. His fangs grew longer and his teeth became jagged like that of a shark. His fingernails transformed into long, deadly claws. But to the man’s surprise and even to Silver himself, Silver showed no signs of fear. He continued to approach the man, prostrated himself and stated his intention.
The man gave out an evil laugh. He then revealed himself to be Lord Desolator, the Prime Demon. It, Lord Desolater, seemed pleased with Silver’s commitment, although to what Silver had committed himself to, he did not know. There was a great sense of foreboding in his mind, but he had chosen to shut it out. Lord Desolator gave Silver a smile and gestured for him to rise. A deal was struck between the two of them.
Silver climbed down Mount Razorpeaks with a fearsome determination, not of the down-climb itself, but of the task that he had to perform for his new master. For three days and nights he walked, with the least amount of rest and sleep, until he reached the nearest town. There, he searched for the perfect victim. His master had demanded a young child, preferably a boy below the age of five, to be delivered to its cave. He had no doubt whatsoever of the fate that would befall the boy, and he did not care. He wanted his reward! He would bring his master a boy, or two, or ten, or 100, or even 1,000 if he had to. He must have his reward!
Silver spotted a potential victim. The boy was playing with some friends in front of a house. The house was small and shabby. His mother was nowhere to be seen. The boy did not seem to have any siblings. The lack of siblings made what he had to do much more ‘neater’. He decided to wait until it was dark. The boy’s father had then come home and the whole family was having dinner. Silver continued to wait. Then it was midnight and the boy and his family were asleep. Silver grabbed a large stone in his hand and shoulder-rammed the house door. With a loud crack, the door flung open. Silver wasted no time. With the stone, he smashed the skull of the boy’s father. The boy’s mother was too shocked to scream. Then it was her turn to die, much the same way as her husband did. Silver then slapped the boy unconscious, grabbed him and vanished into the dark streets outside.
Three days and nights later, Silver arrived at the cave of Lord Desolator. He flung the boy near his master’ feet and prostrated himself. Lord Desolator let out an evil laugh. With a flick of his finger, an invisible force pulled the boy toward the Prime Demon and suspended him in mid-air, so that he was face to face with it. The split in the Prime Demon’s forehead opened and the boy’s soul drained out from his eyes, nose and ears into it. A few moments later, the boy’s hollowed body was flung through one of the many holes in the cave walls and was consumed by the flow of hot, molten lava.
Lord Desolator flicked its finger again and Silver found himself suspended in mid air facing his master. Another flick of its finger and Silver yelled out in pain. A deep cut had appeared on his forehead. The split in the Prime Demon’s forehead opened up and dark energy flowed from it into Silver’s wound. Then Silver felt cold. Terrible, mind-numbing coldness consumed his entire body as he passed out. Lord Desolator flicked his finger yet again, and Silver was flung out of the cave onto the valley floor below.
It was morning when Silver woke up, and immediately he was seized by the feeling of severe pain all over his body. His bones were broken, but to his great surprise, they began to heal quickly. After a while, the pain was gone. Then another feeling came to him. It was an unexpected sensation, the sensation of severe hunger; a hunger so severe and intense that it had lasted until this present day. This hunger was the sensation that Silver Grambune would learn to know very well, the hunger for the soul and flesh of humans!
So was born Lord Deathwings, the demonic version of the foolish Silver Grambune. It had received its rewards of power and immortality. It then went on a path of destruction. It hunted down and devoured every single loan-giver that it had ever had any dealings with. Then just out of pure spite, it attacked and devoured Teak and his entire family. It settled into Teak’s blood-stained mansion and called it its own. It feasted its eyes on Teak’s treasures. But something was wrong! Something was very wrong! It felt not the gratification that it had expected! There was no sense of satisfaction, fulfilment or happiness! Instead, there was only the feeling of severe hunger! Hunger! Hunger! Hunger!
So here it was, Lord Deathwings, 750 years later; with no other feeling or sensation other than that of severe hunger as it approached the town of Southgust. Meanwhile, down below, Ray was awakened by the whizzing sound of the Vanguard Jewel spinning in its frame. His eyes opened wide in shock. He knew what it meant and wasted no time in running out to wake up his Sollenthars. There was dread in his heart, but also a tinge of excitement as well, for this would be the very first time his Sollenthars went face to face with a demon. It presented him with an opportunity to test the pond’s capabilities and find out the true result of five and a half months of hard work.
Spirit was howling in the heavy rain. The Royal Elementhar Pond had gathered in formation. Spirit barked and howled at the night sky again. Another flash of lightning cut across the night sky and Ray, wondering what it was that Spirit was barking at, looked up and was surprised to see the silhouette of a winged human-like creature flying overhead. It was clear to Ray where it was heading.
With a shout of commands, Ray deployed his Sollenthars into Southgust Town. Ray led 1st River into the middle of the town while Clover and Serene led 2nd River and 3rd River respectively into its flanks. 4th and 5th River, under Rod’s command, stayed back at the camp area to act as reserves. Then a worrying thought came to Serene’s mind though she knew it would never worry Ray or Clover. Serene’s Elemental Sorcery element, like the rest of the pond’s, was fire; which would not work too well in the heavy rain. Ra
y would not be worried, Serene reasoned, because he had mastery of the earth element and as for Clover, she would thrive in the rain. But then the soldier in her took over and she proceeded with the reasoning that what they lacked in quality they made up for it in quantity, namely 314 Sollenthars against one demon. Victory was sure to be theirs, but at what price?
Perched on top of a tall building, Lord Deathwings’ eyes glowed red as it scanned the souls of the citizens of Southgust. The souls of all living beings appeared in different colours and shades through its eyes. The demon looked for the bright yellow ones, indicating the ones richest in soul energy. It saw movement on the streets below, but it did not feel concerned. For the 750 years that it had existed as Lord Deathwings, no humans, not even Elementhars, had ever managed to even wound it, let alone kill it!
Thick, transparent, mucus-like saliva begins to drip from the side of its mouth. Choices! Choices! Choices! There is the little boy sleeping alone in his room in the northern part of town, or perhaps the little girl sleeping with her elder sister in the eastern part of town is tastier. The local orphanage is a tempting choice as well, as far as Lord Deathwings is concerned. Then a flash of yellow at the corner of its eyes catches its attention, but it is too late as a Heat Burst slams into its ribs, sending it falling onto the ground below. It feels a mild singeing feeling on its ribs and as it stands up, anger and rage consume it. It turns around and for the first time, it encounters the Royal Elementhar Pond.
Ray and 1st River stand facing the demon squarely and move towards it. Clover’s river stays behind Ray’s. Serene’s river approaches the demon from its right flank. All of the Sollenthars, except for Ray, have their swords drawn. Ray relies on his silver staff, as usual. With an angry roar, Lord Deathwings releases a burst of Dark Orbs at Ray’s river. Ray and his Sollenthars raise their weapons and the barrage of Dark Orbs disintegrates and is absorbed into these weapons.
“This cannot be. You do not exist! There are no Elementhars in the military!” exclaims Lord Deathwings in absolute surprise.
“Exist _ we do of this, demon!” replies Ray.
With another angry roar, Lord Deathwings releases another barrage of Dark Orbs at Ray’s river and tries to fly away. While Ray’s river defends against the attack, Serene commands her river to execute Heat Bursts at the demon. Lord Deathwings comes crashing to the ground just after barely lifting off as countless Heat Bursts slammed into its torso and wings. The demon struggles to get up. Ray and Clover’s rivers manoeuvre through streets to keep the demon square against them while Serene’s river advances cautiously. Ray executes a few Pebble Darts at Lord Deathwings. The demon lets out a soft groan as the Pebble Darts sink into its leathery skin. Black blood oozes out of the demon’s wounds momentarily. Then the wounds seal by themselves.
Seeing that there is no easy escape, Lord Deathwings rushes towards Serene. The Sollenthars execute a barrage of Heat Bursts as quickly as they can at the demon. Lord Deathwings leaps from side to side and executes all manner of evasive action. A Heat Burst slams into its torso and slows it down a little. Then another Heat Burst slams into its torso and knocks it down onto its feet. It then dives sideways and manages to avoid a large number of Heat Bursts.
Lord Deathwings yells out a curse in pure rage. To be attacked by its food feels like pure insult! It feels infuriated. With a renewed burst of energy, the demon rushes toward Serene and her river. As the demon closes the distance between itself and Serene’s river, she commands her soldiers to do a combined execution of the Heat Wall Spell. A huge, thick and towering wall of flames appears in the demon’s path. The heat from the Heat Wall is so intense that it manages to stop the demon in its tracks. Confused and feeling desperate, Lord Deathwings turns around and makes a rush for Ray instead, releasing a succession of Dark Orbs at Ray as it goes. Ray and his river once again raise their weapons to absorb the attacks. Meanwhile, Clover and 2nd River move away from Ray into a flanking position on the opposite side of 3rd River. Several Heat Spears soar through the air from Serene’s direction just as the demon was not looking and penetrates its torso. Black blood sprays from its leathery body, but only momentarily. Then the wounds seal up again.
Sensing the futility of the situation, Lord Deathwings tries to fly off again. As it lifts off several paces high above the ground, it suddenly finds its wings frozen in a large block of ice, courtesy of Clover’s water element manipulation skills. It falls to the ground hard. At Clover’s command, 2nd River execute as many Heat Bursts as they can at the demon’s torso. Seizing the opportunity, Ray’s river and Serene’s river rush towards the demon and join in the attack. Both rivers send their barrage of Heat Bursts at the demon’s neck while Clover’s river pin it down with their own barrage of Heat Bursts. Moments later, Lord Deathwings’ head separates from its torso. The torso finally bursts into flames.
The Sollenthars approach the severed head of Lord Deathwings. To their surprise, it is still alive. Its eyes are opened wide and its mouth opens and closes as though it is gasping for air. The head of Lord Deathwings stares at Ray and the Sollenthars in disbelief. Then finally, it stops moving. The red glow in its eyes fades. So after 750 years of power and immortality, Silver Grambune finally departs Farhayven for the realm of death. His severe hunger is no more!
The Sollenthars were surprised at the level of difficulty involved in killing a Secondary Demon. Even Ray himself was surprised. This was Ray’s fifth time in killing a Secondary Demon, and it was by far the most difficult. He then began to wonder whether some Secondary Demons were stronger, or perhaps more resilient, than others. Suddenly, the townsfolk came out of their homes to look at what was left of the demon. Fearing a civil disorder might be in the making, Ray commanded the Sollenthars to incinerate the demon’s head and body to ashes using their fire element manipulation skills. The disappointed townsfolk then returned to their homes. A few of them gave Ray a scornful look for taking away their possible ‘entertainment’.
Meanwhile, the dark figure of a Secondary Demon sits in perfect silence on the roof of another tall building nearby. After bearing witness to the entire event, it just shakes its head and utters a simple whisper of the word ‘idiot!’ Then a flash of lightning cuts across the pouring skies and reveals the identity of this silent, dark figure to be none other than Lord Deathclaw!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE ESCAPE
The 13th Dawn of Third Month of Dry Season starts off just like the other dawns of the past many months in Minvian Thorn Sayvion’s life. The rattling of his prison cell’s iron bars by the guards comes like clockwork. Splashing his face with icy cold water, Thorn’s eyes come to life immediately. He gobbles down his ration of a fist-sized bun in mere moments. He washes the bread down with water from the same trough that he had used earlier. But there is one significant difference this morning. There is a sparkle of light in his eyes, a burning ember of hope and determination. This morning may begin the same as the ones before, but Thorn Sayvion would ensure that this day ends very differently.
Feigning normalcy, Thorn wore the expression of hopelessness on his face. He made no hurried steps as he walked out to the metal ore mine. The shackles at his feet made it difficult to do so anyway. At the entrance of the underground mine, he picked up his usual tool, a rusty looking pick-axe. The crack of whips was the familiar sound of the early morning hours and he knew that this was the one sound he was not going to miss at all.
Into the dark, gloomy tunnels he proceeded, turning left and right and choosing the numerous forks in this underground maze. Finally, he reached the chamber to which he was assigned and started smashing away at the chamber walls. The Serpentian overseer, one of Fightlord Forktongue’s favourite ‘apple-polishers’, ‘arse-carriers’ or ‘shoe-shiners’, left the chamber to check on another and was clearly not aware of a discovery Thorn had made by accident the month before.
What Thorn had discovered was that there were drops of water gently oozing from this particular chamber wall and he had bee
n very careful to position precisely where his pick-axe struck, ensuring the gradual and even thinning of it. He put his ear to the hard, cold rock surface of the wall. The sound of a gentle flow of water greeted his ears. It had an oscillating rhythm, which meant there was some sort of gentle wave right behind it. He was dead sure that the lake to the north of the mine was just behind this chamber wall and with this surety lay his hope of escape.
One of Thorn’s fellow slaves went about picking up broken chunks of ore rich rocks and whispered in his ear.
“We know what you’re planning. We won’t tell. Don’t forget about us. Good Luck!” he said softly.
Thorn was surprised, and had to put in a lot of effort not to betray any emotions. He just nodded his head in silence and continued striking the chamber wall.
The Serpentian overseer was back. The day continued on as before. Thorn worked, or rather, slaved away as usual. The key to success, as far as he was concerned, was the element of surprise. He made sure that the Serpentians suspected nothing. Soon, the sky began to darken outside and the Serpentian overseers began sending the Fallsian slaves out of the mine. Thorn continued to slave away and tried his best to delay leaving the mine. Then finally, only Thorn and the ‘apple-polisher’ overseer were left in the chamber. The time for action had come!
Thorn lifts his pick-axe as if to strike at the rock wall again, but instead, he turns around and slams it into the chest of the overseer. The apple-polisher’s eyes bulge in surprise. His voice fails him. He collapses silently. Thorn rushes to the chamber entrance and starts smashing the support beams that supported it. After several strikes, the roof of the entrance collapses and creates a cave-in. The shouts of the other Serpentian overseers get drowned by the noise of falling rocks and earth. Without wasting any time, Thorn moves rocks and small stones to seal the collapsed entrance, making it as air-tight as he possibly can. He works fast, knowing that time is now against him. He gets on his buttocks and with his feet, he kicks and stomps the stones, rocks and loose earth with the soles of his shoes to compress and compact them. It is imperative to him that the collapsed entrance is completely sealed and the seal must hold. Then with the pick-axe, he knocks out the bolts of the shackles that bound his wrist and ankles. Thorn looks at the dead Serpentian with disgust. Not able to help himself, he swings the pick-axe into the face of the dead body a few times while yelling his heart out. There is much anger and hatred that has to be released, and Thorn Sayvion feels not an ounce of sympathy or compassion for his tormentors, including this one!