Moonlight War- Act I (The Realmers Book 2)

by William Collins

  “Really?” Evan wanted to tell them too, but he couldn’t help himself from being scared of how they’d react. He knew he shouldn’t be, considering they’d all stuck by him when the demons hunted him.

  But this is worse isn’t it? Demon’s aren’t after me now, but I am one. It was a Venators job to destroy demons. He hardly thought his friends would want to kill him, but he guessed that was why Vanderain had told them not to let the whole Fortress know. It would be chaos.

  “We should definitely tell Jed, Elijah and Emi,” Brooke said. “Vanderain did say to tell as few people as possible.”

  “Agreed,” said Evan. “We can trust them. I mean, I can’t imagine one of them grabbing a knife and trying to kill us like any other monster.”

  “We can tell them now.” Brooke stood up. “We’ll go to my room so we aren’t overheard by anyone.

  “Oh…uh, okay.” Evan took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

  *

  “Why do you want us all in your room, Brooke?” Jed asked, “Hosting a special party?”

  “You wish,” Brooke said. “Evan and I, er, have something to tell you.”

  “Yeah,” Evan added unhelpfully.

  Jed shut the door behind him; he’d been the last to arrive. Evan had been pacing around Brooke’s room for the past several minutes, full of anxious energy. Now that Jed was through, Evan set about placing a soundproof spell on the room. He would’ve done it anyway, just in case anyone passing throughout the Fortress happened to hear, but he was extra paranoid about Sintian, too.

  “Okay, now I’m worried,” said Emi.

  “Ah, you’re going to murder us and don’t want anyone to hear our cries of pain,” Xavier surmised.

  Evan looked over at Brooke, wondering which one of them was going to deliver the news.

  “What is it?” Elijah frowned.

  “Let me guess. Brooke got you pregnant, Evan,” said Jed.

  “You know why the demons were after Evan,” Emillia said softly.

  “How the hell did you come up with that?” Jed exclaimed.

  “You’re right,” Evan said, nodding at Emi.

  “Whoa,” said Elijah, “I know you get a lot of stick for being stupid Emi, but you really do surprise me sometimes.”

  “Hey, I’m not stupid, you bliak.”

  “Hold on.” Jed turned serious. “What do you mean?”

  “Um, well. I am, no, we’re…” Evan struggled with how best to phrase things. He couldn’t just blurt it out.

  “Demon-Spawn.” Brooke did blurt it out.

  Their friends went still, their expressions frozen. Jed, Xavier and Zeke were baffled, but Elijah and Emi looked horrified.

  They were quiet for a time, until Jed said, “Eh?”

  “What do you mean, Demon-Spawn?” Emi whispered.

  “As in the child of a demon,” Elijah said slowly. “You’re saying that you--both of you-- are the children of a demon?”

  “Well, two different demons, to be specific,” Brooke added.

  “This is, uh.” Jed ran a hand through his hair. “Not a very funny joke guys. Emi could’ve come up with a better one.”

  “Yeah, wait, no. Shut up Jed,” said Emi. “But you guys don’t have tails or horns or anything.”

  “Indeed,” said Xavier. “If you wanted to prank us you could’ve used a spell to at least make you look like monsters.”

  Monsters. There was that word again, the terrible word that described Evan accurately.

  “Shut up guys,” Elijah said softly, “they’re serious.”

  “Wha… but how is that possible?” Jed’s humour was gone, replaced with concern.

  “According to Vanderain, Akirandon, the queen of Velkarath is my mother,” Evan said in a rush.

  “And Adena, a fellow demon Disciple, is my mother,” Brooke added. “It sounds insane, I know.”

  “Insane?” Xavier exclaimed. “It’s absolutely nuts.”

  “It’s why the demons attacked Veneseron,” he said. “Their lord knew what I was and needed to capture me. It’s all my fault.”

  Another silence stretched between them all.

  “No,” Jed said at last. “You didn’t do anything wrong, other than being born, and none of us can help that. So what if both your mothers are demons? You two seem pretty cool to me.”

  “He’s right,” said Elijah, “none of it was your fault. Just like all Venators can’t help being born with magic.”

  Emi, Xavier and Zeke nodded in agreement, although they were all pale with shock.

  Evan couldn’t believe they weren’t freaking out. He’d expected them to stare at him and Brooke like they were dangerous animals, not accept it so easily. His eyes itched and he blinked rapidly. He saw Brooke was getting emotional, too.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for not thinking we’re insane or something.”

  “Or trying to kill us,” Evan said, smiling weakly.

  “I still think you’re both mad,” said Xavier, “but so is everything in this place.”

  “Oh, and can we keep this to ourselves?” Brooke said. “We can’t let it get out to everyone in the Fortress. Many won’t understand.”

  They all agreed, promising to keep it a secret.

  *

  Arantay stumbled through the dark streets like a spectre. In the Fortress, every eye was on him. In the city, no one batted an eyelid. But he hated the crowds, so many races trying to get so many places at once. Now, past midnight, he almost had the city to himself.

  The late night stragglers ignored him, and he them. The Midnight Behemoth, however, was one of the more crowded inns he'd been that night. The two dozen or so patrons turned to look at Arantay as he entered, murmuring to one another in an array of alien languages.

  Three blue Garrtians conversed rapidly with one another, their red horns quivering with excitement, whilst another alien race, Keszals, chortled derisively through their enormous tusks.

  Arantay knew why. Word had spread about his brother's betrayal.

  In every establishment he'd visited that night, the stares and whispers had followed him. In the Midnight Behemoth there'd be more than mutters, however, which was why he’d come.

  Arantay slumped over the bar, signalling the innkeeper. The Arakkner barkeep used one of his eight hairy legs to slide a mug of Teslik his way. Arantay downed it silently.

  He threw down four Scion Shillings and signalled for a refill. The barkeep obliged, making his coins disappear as he regarded Arantay with his eight eyes.

  “Try not to kill anyone.” The Arakkner's mandibles clicked as he spoke.

  Arantay just nodded before glugging his drink again, his fifteenth pint of the night. It had taken a lot to get him drunk as an elf, but since becoming a vampire it was even harder.

  The inhabitants of the Midnight Behemoth were thieves and smugglers, amongst other things. He was surprised Vanderain let them in the city at all. Paladins stationed by the city’s portals made sure no demons entered. Magic-users were also checked to make sure they weren't Dark-Venators or similar. But Veneseron city was one of amnesty and peace, so he supposed Vanderain would be hypocritical to ban small-time criminals too, as long as they didn’t break Veneseron’s rules.

  Perhaps every city needed its underworld, and Arantay expected Vanderain would remove any potential criminals of the mass-murdering type. Still, if you wanted dodgy characters and formidable thugs, the Behemoth was the place to find them.

  As he drained his mug, Arantay heard raucous laughter behind him. He turned to survey the common room. Four dwarves sat in the corner, each of them with a leg of lamb in one hand and a cup of mead in the other, ripping the meat off the bones with their teeth. He knew by the crests on their tunics that they were members of an infamous smuggler cartel.

  A quartet of Ovina aliens, who resembled boars with red fur but with human arms and legs, sat with a Cyclops and two gelatinous Bagras. The Bagras appeared to be gambling with the Ovinas, their bloated bodi
es secreting purple slime.

  A few lone patrons, like the kobold muttering incessantly to himself, were also dotted around the tables, nursing their mugs. The main source of noise was from the Iserhian pirates in the room’s centre.

  Arantay felt small amusement at the slave droids that joined in singing the pirates bawdy song. At second glance, he noticed only the captain was a true Iserhian. Like all Iserhian aliens he was seven feet tall but stick thin. His lime green hair hung in a single plait down to his ankles, and his pallid skin was whiter than milk.

  Arantay knew the captain was the only true living Iserhian, as his companions white flesh held a grey tinge, and their eyes were a dimmer pink. They had to be Lyklorian clones, a poor attempt at replicating living beings. Their flesh was synthetic and their minds devoid of real emotion, just vague imitations of the one they were cloned from.

  Arantay ordered another drink, only now starting to feel the effects. He just wanted to forget it all. He'd rarely seen his parents for the last decade. Veneseron forest was so large and he’d purposefully made his home miles away from his former tribe.

  Since he'd been bitten, the elves had treated him with unease. Most of the tribe hadn't treated him with the animosity Falawn had, but his parents’ detachment had been worse. Still, it hurt to know they were gone forever and it was his own brother's fault.

  “Oi, ain't that the one who let all those demons inside the stronghold?”

  Arantay looked over as the pirate captain spoke to his clones. “Yeah, it's the vamp-elf who killed his family.”

  Arantay's hand clenched and the mug he was holding shattered into shards of copper.

  The pirates laughed belligerently. "Heh, someone's got a nasty temper, lads. No wonder he let all those demons in."

  "Are you a fool?" Arantay snarled. "If I was the one who let the fiends in do you think I’d be still here?"

  "Glarq off, you freak," the captain sneered. "I don't want to drink in the company of a family killer."

  "That was my brother, you sack of Ushk."

  The captain's smile soured, the expression mirrored by his clones.

  The slave droids swivelled their metallic heads in Arantay's direction. One was a clockwork droid, and the other was steam powered, whilst the third was rusty red steel. All three droids were only four feet tall, but sharp tools were attached to their artificial arms.

  "What difference does it make?" the captain continued. "In my world, the whole family are held accountable for one member’s actions. Your parents deserved their fate, but you got off free."

  “Take that back,” Arantay growled. His hand clasped the dagger at his hip. He knew he shouldn't use it, but right now he wanted nothing more than to cut these fools to ribbons.

  “I don't think I will.” The captain stood, his clones mirroring his actions once again.

  All of the inn's inhabitants had turned to watch.

  "I think you deserve a good beating for letting the demons in." The captain procured a golden truncheon from his jacket.

  Arantay felt his fangs cut his tongue. “You should leave, pirate.” He strained to keep himself calm. “Before I destroy all your men.”

  The Iserhian lunged suddenly, sweeping his truncheon for Arantay's head. Arantay was faster however, seizing the captain's arm and booting him in the stomach.

  The alien flew across the common room, flipping over his table and out of sight. The four clones yelled in fury and surged toward Arantay as one. His dagger swept through the air in an instant. The first clone had half his head shorn off, gibbering incoherently as his brains slid to the floor. The second clone produced his own knife, but Arantay evaded easily, seizing the replica’s hair and smashing his face into the bar.

  The last two clones seized Arantay and threw him across the table. He tried to roll away, but one of the droids caught him. The clockwork machine jabbed him with what looked like a cattle prod protruding from its steel stomach. Arantay stabbed him repeatedly however, continuing even as oil spluttered out in torrents. He scrambled to his feet as the droid keeled over, only to be surrounded by the clones again.

  They had unsheathed their broadswords, but Arantay ducked as they swung for him. One clone got his sword stuck in the table, whilst the other missed Arantay’s head and sliced the third clone’s chest instead.

  Arantay wasted no time slicing the throat of one clone and lopping the head off another before wheeling to combat the droid who'd tried to stick him from behind.

  Unfortunately, as he shoved his dagger into the droid's lightbulb eye, the weapon lodged in the rusty red skull. The robot whirred and crumpled to the floor, taking his dagger with it. Before he could retrieve it, the remaining clone smashed him across the face with a bar stool.

  Arantay's vision blurred as he sagged against the table. The clone hefted up the stool for another strike, but this time Arantay grabbed a copper mug behind him and cracked his attacker in the nose. Arantay repeatedly smashed the mug into the clone’s skull, until the clone dropped to the ground, convulsing.

  By now, the captain had recovered himself, and before Arantay could face him, the remaining droid used its pincer to pin Arantay’s arms behind his back. He struggled desperately as the captain ripped out his cutlass and advanced.

  “Do you know how much money you've cost me?” the captain spat. “I had to sell a shipment of Wibbernysi tusks to pay for those clones.”

  Before the captain could strike, Arantay used all of his strength to break free of the droid’s pincer and grab a broken stool leg. As the robot garbled unintelligently, he used both hands to smash its metal skull with the block of wood.

  The droids head lolled to the side, oil and electricity volts spitting from its neck-hole. The captain’s cutlass came careening down next, but Arantay batted it aside before seizing the captain’s throat and slamming him down on the now broken table.

  The inn patrons jeered in excitement. The floor was slick with blood and oil. The innkeeper resignedly called for the city guard. But it was all a blur to Arantay.

  The captain's green hair reminded him of Falawn, and his anger increased. The Iserhian's shiny white face was turning black as he choked. Arantay squeezed tighter.

  He had to control himself. Droids and clones were one thing, but taking the life of a living being was another.

  At the last moment he released the pirate, who rolled to the floor, gasping for air.

  Seconds later, a force of purple clad Paladins crashed into the inn and the inn patrons scrambled to hide any illegal items they had about their person.

  Arantay remained silent as the guards converged around him.

  Chapter 11- Fatal Fauna

  The cabin rang with laughter as they watched the apish creature fall off his rock to the sand below. The Guraah merely scratched his buttocks in resignation, before climbing back on his rock and falling asleep again.

  The Sandstrider moved at a leisurely gait. Evan barely felt the vehicle moving at all.

  When they’d first lined up by the Badlands gate they had found the Sandstrider already there. The Sandstrider resembled a giant mechanical insect, like a grasshopper, but with horns instead of antennae and ten legs either side of its body. It was made out of copper, with the body of a submarine and circular windows. It wasn’t until Jed went to press his nose against a window, and nearly fell out, that they realised the windows had no glass.

  The Strider was as high and wide as a house and as long as three buses slapped together, with ten cabins on each side and a walkway between. Evan’s cabin was filled with the mess he and his friends had made. A litany of bizarre sweets was strewn across the table and the two benches where they sat.

  Evan returned to his bag of gargoyle glooplets as the Strider moved on. Outside the window was a rolling vista of ever-changing desert and wastelands. They’d spent the trip leaning their heads out of the windows, just like the other Venators in their own cabins, studying the thrilling sights below. The legs crawling in the desert below were thin,
but obviously incredibly strong and about twenty feet long. Elijah had been their tour guide, complete with running commentary, since the trip began.

  “Oooh, look over there guys,” Elijah instructed once again.

  “At what, mate?” Jed asked.

  “All I can see is grass,” said Brooke.

  Evan looked over Brooke’s shoulder. He saw a smattering of dark green vegetation sprawling in the grey sands far below.

  “That’s not grass. They’re weeds.” He grinned at Brooke.

  “Well, I don’t know,” she replied. “I’m not a horticulterer… or whatever it’s called.”

  “No, guys, just watch,” said Elijah.

  They peered out of the window in silence. Nothing happened, except the plants rustling in the breeze.

  “Well, I thought they were Planeya.” Elijah frowned. “Maybe they’re weeds after all…wait, there you go.”

  What they believed were plants were actually the arms of creatures pulling themselves from beneath the sands. Evan was shocked to see they were a vaguely humanoid shape, but made out of leaves and vines.

  Elijah said excitedly, “They can shoot vines long distances that wrap round and choke their prey, and they can spit pollen too.”

  “Charming,” Brooke remarked.

  They went back to their seats and continued to chat and eat sweets. The Venators in the other cabins were doing much of the same. Each cabin was like a large wooden box, with a half-door on the far wall, so they could easily see out onto the walkway.

  They’d been told to stay inside their cabins, but many had been hurrying up and down the aisle to chat with their friends. Master Magoris kept coming out of his private cabin to reprimand people. Evan saw him frighten one Apprentice close to tears.

  Mistress Taretta was in charge of the trip and she’d informed them all through a loudspeaker when they’d first taken their seats that she and the other Instructors were each monitoring sections of the Strider.

  Unfortunately their cabin was one Magoris was in charge of. Magoris hadn’t left his own cabin for ages though, Evan was relieved to see. He’d never met anyone as rude as Magoris.