Andon shook his immense head one last time and then stood back on two feet, a terrific roar rising in his throat as his eyes burned into Arantay. The powder had failed.
Brooke raised her gun, preparing to pepper Andon with bullets. But suddenly the beast was before her, moving faster than she thought possible. His claws lashed out as he snarled. Brooke leaped back in time to save her hand being ripped off, but not quick enough to avoid her gun being batted out of her grasp.
She instinctively summoned an energy shield in front of her, whilst trying to prise her sword free with the other hand. Andon, however, smashed her shield spell to smithereens with a single strike. The wolf leaned down, maw open wide. Just as he was about to clamp his jaws down on her head, Arantay was on the monster’s back, wrenching him away.
Andon threw Arantay off his shoulders with a roar, then spun round to charge at him, swiping with his knife-long claws. In a flicker Arantay was back in the air, sword flashing silver as he slashed at the werewolf’s chest. Unbelievably, the lycan dodged the blow, moving faster than Arantay.
Andon’s tree-trunk arm whipped out at Arantay’s head, but he ducked the swipe, returning with a kick to the brute’s abdomen. The werewolf staggered back with a throat-ripping growl of fury, then pivoted forwards with another feral swing. Andon’s claws met only mist however as Arantay leapt back, urging Brooke to stay behind him as he did so.
She watched, mesmerised as the two monsters of legend fought. Arantay was a fiery eyed phantom who choreographed his sword strikes beautifully. Andon was a swollen mass of hairy flesh that roared relentlessly.
Arantay’s crimson mane streamed out behind him as he ducked, rolled and weaved, nicking the werewolf’s arm, then the knee. For all the lunatic lycan’s colossal strength, Arantay was proving to be faster.
He landed what should have been a jaw shattering punch next to the wolf’s muzzle, but Andon merely shook his head angrily. Arantay danced away from yet another swing then came hurtling back with a slash that cut through the beast’s stomach. Andon faltered then, dropping to a knee as blood spat out of him like a faucet.
Tay seized the opportunity. He kicked at the back of Andon’s good leg, forcing him down on both knees, before jumping on the werewolf’s back and pinning him to the ground. Arantay dropped his sword to use both hands to hold Andon’s jaws together, so he couldn’t bite.
“Now Brooke,” Tay cried. “Try to heal him, quick!”
She rushed forwards, knowing that they wouldn’t get another chance like this. She couldn’t let her fear cause any hesitation. Andon thrashed wildly underneath him, but Arantay used all of his strength to keep him grounded as Brooke worked her magic. She put her sword down and placed both hands on Andon’s flank. She tried to ignore the dried blood matting his coarse fur. As soon as she touched him she felt the lycan’s madness. His body was wracked with wounds, whilst his mind was a maze of tattered thoughts. He was ruled only by his base desires. Any rationality appeared to have been eradicated from him. She quickly searched for signs of disease or infection, to see if a demon or any other creature had caused Andon’s affliction.
In the few moments after she placed her hands on his flank however, Andon surged upwards, throwing Arantay off his back like a bucking stallion. Tay rolled across the pavement as he hit the ground. Springing to his feet and running to pick up his sword.
Brooke scarpered back as Andon rose. He roared louder than ever and this time his bear-like paw caught the tip of Arantay’s head as he bent to retrieve his blade. The blow was so monstrous Arantay immediately fell to the ground, his head cracking against the pavement.
Brooke stared; horrified to see Arantay had lost consciousness. Andon switched focus on her, and she felt a fear like never before when their eyes met. Bile rose at the back of her throat as the lycanthrope edged forwards. Andon’s soft growling parodied laughter. Saliva dripped in ropes from his razor sharp teeth and the pointed tips of his ears quivered in anticipation of the kill to come.
The magic came to her instinctively, her life hung in the balance. The healing spell she had ready, distorted to a crackling ball of electricity. As Andon stepped toward her she threw the lightning blast with a shriek. The spell collided with his chest, driving him into a nearby car, denting the bonnet and causing the windshield to explode in a shower of glass fragments. Andon shrugged off the attack however, sliding off the car and coming for her again.
She bent down and seized a chunk of glass that had landed by her feet.
Instead of the one shard in her hand she threw five, one was real, the other four a spell of illusion.
Her gamble paid off, the werewolf swiped at the two shards to his left, the one in the middle was the real one and it plunged deep into his gargantuan shoulder. A sound similar to a dog’s startled yelp was wrenched from the monster’s throat as he staggered back.
Brooke’s elation rapidly switched back to horror as Andon grasped the tip of the long sliver of glass and yanked it back out of his body, as if it were a toothpick.
The werewolf then threw the shard back at her. She erected a shield of air just before the point of the glass pierced her forehead. Instead, it bounced off and smashed against the ground.
Impossibly, Andon appeared to grin at her, leering maliciously as he padded forward once again, a creeping nightmare no sane imagination could ever conjure up.
Still feet away, he pounced, leaping through the air with unbelievable speed and power.
A shocking blast of purple energy jolted through her, shooting out of her hands and striking the rogue full in the face. The blast of magic was the strongest she had ever conjured, a feat she had never come close to summoning in training.
The werewolf careened away from her as the concentrated energy exploded against him. He veered back into the mouth of the alleyway to be veiled by mist and shadow. Brooke ran after him frantically, scooping her pistol up from the ground and planning to fill Andon with bullets before he could get away. But when she entered the alley, the beast was gone.
Arantay was back on his feet and beside her in a blur of motion, blood trickling from the back of his head and blazing fires in his eyes.
Without a word, he sprinted down the alley, his own growl awful to behold.
A few anxious moments later he returned.
“He’s gone.” Tay appeared stunned. “Brooke, I’m so sorry.” He came forward to check on her and then hugged her tight. Her body heaved in his arms as he held her. Their chests rose and fell together.
“That werewolf was the biggest I’ve ever seen, and the fastest.”
“You don’t have to apologise,” she replied breathlessly. “Here, let me heal you.”
“No,” he shook his head passionately, stepping back and breaking their embrace. “I failed you. The rogue could have killed you whilst I was unconscious. I deserve the pain.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she protested. “Not to mention stupid.”
She was incredibly weak, most of her magic had been used up in that last energy blast, but she thought she had enough traces left to heal the wound in his head.
“No,” he repeated stubbornly. “I heal faster than humans anyway,” he said regretfully, as if he wished the pain would last longer.
Arantay’s face was a grim and agonised mask.
“I promise never to put you in danger like that again,” he vowed. “Tomorrow, we end this.”
Chapter 22- False Trails and Cold Debts
Dark magic lived here. Galk felt it the moment he started up the mountain path and the higher he climbed, the stronger it became.
The rock was dark red, the sheen of a freshly made wound. The cliff-face was riddled with holes, craters that led to caves where the mountains inhabitants lived. He passed the cave mouths by however, heading for the very peak where the path would end and his Master awaited him.
He’d wandered through a dozen different worlds before coming here, just in case he was being tracked, his lord had taught him well.
<
br /> This was a civilised realm, full of vibrant cities that glowed like jewels across the vast steppes. The people of this world all knew to avoid the mountain range though, for evil slumbered there and to disturb it meant a fate worse than death.
Galk wheezed as he climbed the long winding staircase built into the rock.
He was old and fat now, not like he was in the demon wars. Plus, he’d spent decades feasting on plump centaurs and snacking on delicious fairies. He was no longer built for war, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to be the strongest when he was the smartest. Intelligent demons lived longer than strong ones every time, and Galk was the smartest demon he knew.
Finally, he reached the path’s end and the entrance to his Master’s chambers.
His heartbeats quickened as he entered. The fear that gripped him was instinctual. He knew his lord would be happy with him, but still, no one was ever truly safe in the presence of a Disciple. His master’s bedchamber was empty, however.
It was easy to forget he was inside a mountain, as the chamber walls no longer resembled rock, but swirling shadow. A very faint moan emanated from inside the walls too.
The cavernous chamber had many arcane artefacts dotted about it. Amidst the artefacts were things too horrific for Galk to dwell on.
Sickly scented candles lit the room with flickering blue flames and the shelves were lined with stuffed creatures, like the dead Halflings who’d been turned into china dolls. The colossal stone basin at the end of the chamber was filled to the brim with pink blood. Gnome blood, Galk suspected, enjoying its fragrance.
The topmost layer of the liquid had begun to coagulate and crust. Galk drew closer, longing to quench his thirst. Gnome blood was among the finest of delicacies.
Suddenly his lord’s head broke the surface, eyes of blue fire boring into him. Galk fell to his knees, in awe and reverence of the beauty and power of his master Kalkavan, the great demon Disciple.
The shadow walls writhed more fitfully, as if the whole room was beginning to pulse.
Bright pink rivulets ran down Kalkavan’s chest as he swam to the basin’s edge. His alabaster hair was stained cerise as droplets ran down his face; he licked at the residue as it streamed around his mouth.
“What news?” Kalkavan asked, floating serenely in his bath.
“Good news, your grace,” Galk replied. “Akirandon is far away from any civilisation, searching fruitlessly for her spawn. Your plan has kept her quite occupied.”
“And she doesn’t suspect Veneseron at all? That is very important. The demon children Vanderain is hiding must be mine. I cannot afford Akirandon to interfere.”
“No lord. Many of her Rakarn still plague the Venators on their missions, but the majority of Dark-Venators are stationed with Akirandon’s armies all around the realms, ensuring her kingdom grows with every new realm they invade and conquer.”
Only his head was visible, bobbing up and down in the bath of blood, but Kalkavan wore a smirk. “Akirandon is a fool. It matters not how many worlds she has under her power once I control the spawn.”
Kalkavan clicked his fingers then and two dishevelled Halflings scurried from the shadows. Galk saw they carried a platter each, filed with orc’s ears and fresh pixie eyes.
His master plucked food from both plates before waving his slaves away. They looked petrified. Galk guessed Kalkavan’s former slaves were the ones lining the shelves as decoration. Galk was hungry too, but dare not ask for an ear to chew on himself.
As Kalkavan washed his snacks down with a goblet of valkyrie venom, a portal bloomed in the chamber.
Galk shrank back, fearing Akirandon or another Disciple had come to pay Kalkavan a visit. If it was Akirandon she’d know Galk was a spy. He panicked. She’d be able to see through any invisibility spell he conjured. He was done for.
Galk sighed in relief, however, as Adam tumbled through the portal.
“Aha, my boy.” Kalkavan smiled. “I was just about to ask Galk about you. I trust your presence here means your task was a succes?” There was a glint in Kalkavan’s eyes. Galk knew if Adam had failed he’d lose his head.
“Yes, your grace,” Adam panted as the portal closed behind him.
“Tell me you didn’t portal straight from Veneseron,” Galk snapped.
“Course not,” said Adam. “I ran out of the gateway in their city, and used a Rambrace I’d stolen to jump between a dozen different worlds before coming here.”
Kalkavan clicked his finger again as he stepped out of his bath. The Halflings came running and draped a dark red robe over him.
“I did well,” Adam continued. “The Venator idiots didn’t expect a thing. Well, until the end.”
Kalkavan snapped his head to look at him sharply. “What do you mean, boy?”
“I think my cover was blown with Brooke,” Adam whimpered. “I couldn’t get her blood.”
Kalkavan roared in fury, stepping toward Adam, his hand raised to strike.
“But I got the boy’s blood, right here,” Adam said quickly. “His name’s Evan and he’s the one Kurrlan wanted. That must mean he’s stronger than Brooke, right? We can get him. As soon as he has a mission, we can get him?”
Instead of striking Adam down, Kalkavan snatched the vial of blood Adam had raised.
“Yes,” Kalkavan murmured, his fury cooling. “But I’ll send my Asharon after him. You’ve failed me enough times already.”
Kalkavan sliced open his palm with one of his nails before tipping the blood out of its vial and into the open wound. He closed his eyes as the spell took effect. It was ancient magic, a spell only the strongest of beings could cast.
Galk watched in reverence as Kalkavan’s unnatural pink lips hooked into a smile.
“It has worked,” the demon Disciple hissed in pleasure. “Galk, ready my Asharon. The moment this Evan boy leaves Veneseron I shall sense it, and they will bring him to me.”
*
“Yes Evan, you’re going to be leaving Veneseron,” Padrake told him. “I am delighted to say that you have been deemed ready for your very first official mission as a Venator.”
Evan’s insides squirmed. It was all happening so fast. He’d bumped into Padrake on the way to Air element training this morning. He’d not long woke up and still felt like he was dreaming.
“I was going to track you down later today, but as we’re both here I might as well tell you now,” Padrake said. “Come to my quarters this evening to meet your mission companions and get the details of your quest.”
“But I’ve only just become a Mid-Realmer,” Evan managed to say.
“I know,” Padrake nodded seriously. “And don’t think this is a reward for your appalling behaviour at the beach, young man. Unfortunately, we’re stretched rather thin at the moment. More wars than ever have sprang up throughout the worlds. The demons are being more troublesome than I can remember and the Rakarn have quadrupled their efforts at causing chaos. So we’re having to throw you, and many others, in at the deep end so to speak. Okay then, nice seeing you.” Padrake ended their conversation abruptly. He waved, before striding down the castle corridors. Evan watched him go, dumbstruck.
His shock was mirrored when he told Jed, Elijah and Joelle back in the Oval.
“Whoa, dude, that’s big,” Jed said, clapping him on the back.
“Congrats Evan,” Elijah beamed.
“Do you know what you’re doing yet?” Joelle asked excitedly.
Evan shook his head, feeling rather numb. In-between training and for all of lunch, he quizzed Joelle about missions for the rest of the day, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything from Gettelung’s Archives lectures.
Joelle’s exuberance for missions, coupled with Elijah’s envy that Evan was going on one before him, lessened some of his anxiety. He tried to keep positive as headed to Padrake’s quarters that evening to get further details.
Surprisingly, Emillia was already outside Padrake’s door. He hadn’t seen her all day.
“W
hat’re you doing here?”
“Padrake’s orders. I think I’ve been given a mission,” said Emi. Her face was flushed with excitement, but her tone was laced with fear. Evan couldn’t blame her, he felt the same way.
“Really? Maybe it’s the same one as mine.”
“You got one too?” Emi grinned. “Awesome. It would be nice to go with a familiar face.”
He nodded in agreement. “Don’t we usually have a higher ranked Realmer to guide first-timers?”
“Yep,” she said, “They’re probably waiting for us inside.”
Emi was right, as they entered Padrake’s chamber they saw Bane Madagant inside. He turned around at their arrival, giving Evan a death stare. And sitting next to Bane was their other mission companion, Sintian Stray.
Chapter 23- Choked!
When Taija regained consciousness, she was in an underground car-park. A moment later, she realised she was seven feet off the ground, slung over the shoulder of Mikhail, the monster clothed in human skin.
The images of the people he had brutally killed rushed through her mind. Before she could jump off his shoulders and attempt escape, he unceremoniously dumped her on the ground.
Seeing that she was awake he placed his boot firmly across her forearm.
"Struggle and I'll pull your arm off," he barked.
Taija nodded wordlessly, her plans for escape obliterated.
From what she's seen Mikhail do to the asylum staff, she didn't doubt that he actually would rip her limb from limb.
Mikhail glared at her for a long time, saying nothing. She had no idea what was going through his head, but whatever is was had to be terrifying. The look in his eyes reminded her of a wild, bleeding animal. There was pain there, but fury far outweighed it.
Finally he turned away from her and pulled a strange tool from his belt. He grumbled to himself in a nonsensical fashion, apparently confused.
Moonlight War- Act I (The Realmers Book 2) Page 27