The Demon's Blade

by Steven Drake

  "So you don’t know anything more than I do,” Darien grumbled. “Well, if you have no new information, then just say whatever it is you mean to say, do whatever it is you mean to do, or just leave me to my predicament."

  "Hmm, well, your manners haven't improved much. You know a bit of idle conversation is a good way to gather information." The old man frowned as he spoke.

  "Getting information out of you seems to be like getting rain from the heavens. It either appears or it doesn't. It's hardly constructive to ask."

  "Ha!" the old man laughed, and continued to do so for several seconds. "Very well then. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for your current dilemma. I cannot see the future any more than you can. Any choice may lead to ruin, or may make no difference whatsoever, but I will give you some advice. Beware of giving in to the will of the Demon Sword."

  "What does that mean? I haven't even noticed it since that day, when you cast your spell. How can I give in to the will of the sword if I can't even feel it?" Darien questioned, shaking his head in irritation at what he perceived to be nonsense.

  "Hehe," Ezra laughed heartily, throwing his head back to clear his disheveled hair from around his face and allowing Darien to clearly see his dark brown eyes. "Just because you see something, does not mean it is real. It may be a trick, or an illusion. The opposite is true also. Just because you do not see a thing, does not mean it is not real, for it is much easier to conceal what is plain than to reveal what is hidden."

  "So you mean the Demon Sword can take control without my knowing?" Darien questioned skeptically.

  "Not take control, but gain influence, corrupt slowly, seep into you over time, until it is too great to resist when it attacks, not unlike the poison that infected the woman."

  "I see. So what do I do? You told me before all I had to do was resist the temptation to use its power, and I have. Now you tell me that this is not enough. What am I to believe then?" The half-elf’s voice showed equal parts confusion and frustration.

  "He sees so much and yet is still so blind." Ezra muttered beneath his breath.

  "What?" Darien asked, not quite making out the old man's words.

  The old man made no attempt to clarify his mutterings, but instead Ezra spoke calmly, in a firm and quiet tone, all of the previous joviality leaving his voice. "Think of it this way. You may not be able to feel the will of the demons of the sword, but you know they are present, and surely you can imagine what the demons would have you do, were they to bend you to their will. A man is ultimately defined by his choices, and such choices as you make can make it more difficult for the sword to corrupt you, or far easier. Beware the temptation of the easy path, for it is often a path to evil.”

  “What does that even mean, the easy path?” Darien argued crossly. “The only path I ever pursue is the one most likely to be successful, most likely to keep me alive. All my choices are based on that. What else is there?”

  The old man sighed deeply again, shaking his head. “Still you cling to the lessons of your old teachers, and their narrow vision of the world, so you do not see. Very well then, I will speak plainly. You have been idle here too long, and your enemies are catching up to you. The sword, too, pursues you, but more subtly. Never forget that. It may not give you any warning. It may come upon you suddenly, unexpectedly, when you are most vulnerable, and least prepared. You are ill prepared for the dangers that you may face at any moment. Are you strong enough to face Avirosa now? If you are not, then the sword may prey upon that weakness. Do not trust luck to be with you as it has up until now.”

  Darien paused to consider the words. At least the old man had finally made his point. I have been trusting too much to luck, too much to chance, he thought. I have become comfortable in this easy existence, and only luck has saved me from disaster thus far. So what should I do now? How do I discern the will of the sword if I can’t feel it? Am I supposed to guess? Lost in thought as he was, he failed to notice Jerris approaching.

  "Who were you talking to?" Jerris asked, jolting him out of his state of concentration.

  Darien immediately looked up to where Ezra had been standing, but there was nothing but empty darkness. Gone again. "It's no one Jerris. You must be hearing voices on the wind. Why are you out here anyway? I told you to stay where you were."

  "I was… Well, I was worried I suppose. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

  "You were worried about me?" Darien chuckled.

  "It isn't funny," the now irritated young half-elf replied. "Anyway, I just wanted to say that it was… unfair of my mother to ask you what she did. I will honor our original bargain. You have upheld your end, and I will be a man of my word. That's all there is to it."

  "And what will you do then? Where will you go?"

  "I… don't really know, but that's not your problem. I got myself into this mess. I knew I was putting myself in danger. I knew there was a chance it would end badly. Now that it has, it's my responsibility to deal with it, at least that's what I think about it." Jerris tried but could not hide the quaver of fear and apprehension in his voice.

  Though he must be terrified, he is managing to keep himself together, Darien mused. He's mustering all of his will just to hold back the tears. He is an admirable lad, if inexperienced. It would indeed be a shame if the Master got ahold of him. "You put on a brave face, Jerris. You are indeed more formidable than you appear," Darien declared. "Now let's head back. We have a long journey ahead, and we need to move quickly."

  Jerris, appearing dumbfounded, could only stammer out, "But… but I said…"

  "Yes, I heard you quite well," the older half-elf said. "You have more courage than sense, but that is not entirely a bad thing. I have sense enough for both of us, and if you pay attention, you may learn enough to stay alive. If I may count upon your courage, you may count upon my skill and strength. I make no promise that we can find your hidden city, or that we will even get the opportunity to look for it. It is far more likely we'll both end up in the Demon King's dungeons, but I am willing to share the risk if you are."

  Jerris simply stood in the dim moonlight, befuddled, perhaps wondering if he had heard correctly. Finally, he managed to speak "Um… Yes, Yes of course. Thank you, but where are we going?"

  "Away from here, as quickly as possible," Darien said as he began heading back off to the hidden room. Jerris followed behind.

  "Can I ask you something?" Jerris asked once they were back in the hidden room. "I know we must leave soon, but do we have time to give mother a proper burial?"

  "Once we have all that we need, I will use a spell to collapse the cavern. Outside, we can place a stone if you wish."

  "Thank you,"

  The two men hastily prepared some supplies, a few potions, a dozen of the magic torches, a few days’ worth of food, a bedroll, and a coil of rope. Far too little for the beginning of a long journey, but there was nothing else. When all was prepared, Jerris said a final farewell to his mother, and went to the outer entrance while Darien collapsed the cavern. He took a dagger, poured some water over it, and dragged it around the outer wall of the room, tracing a dark line of moisture. When the entire room had been circled, he returned to the outward tunnel, and then clenched his hand around the dagger, triggering the spell. The dirt where the line had been traced loosened, and began to flow like sand, filling up the cavern. Then he sighed, turned, and left.

  Once outside, the two men walked back towards the wall. Darien pointed to a spot where the ground had sunken slightly. It was deepest in the middle, and shallower toward the edges. Darien traced a square in the ground with his sword, and the ground rose up slightly, hardening into a stone. Upon the stone, Jerris carved his mother's name, and they were on their way.

  The morning air was clear and cold. Winter set in quickly in the north. A stiff wind blew out of the west, making the autumn leaves fall in a slow rain of yellows, oranges, reds, and browns. Another week or so, and the forest would provide no cover at all. They set out to the ea
st at a steady pace, the quickest Jerris could maintain. Jerris followed at first, but soon ran up beside his newfound guardian. "So now can you tell me where we're going?" Jerris asked.

  "East, and then south," Darien replied. "I mean to make for the city of Vorog."

  "Vorog is a busy city. Won't it be difficult to get through unnoticed?"

  "Maybe, but we have few options. Winter is setting in, and there are only so many ways to travel. The Red Mountains of the north are scattered into many smaller ranges. These ranges cross each other all over the region, creating a maze of impassable ridges and settled lowlands. This region is called Vorstal. High ridges surround and enclose the Duchies of Kantu and Jontu. In summer, there are ways over the mountains, but those will already be impassable by now, leaving only two ways which we can get out of this pen, the two passes under the mountains, Stalag in the west and Vorog in the southeast. Avirosa will know this as well. He will probably have all ways watched, but he will most likely expect me to head west, away from my enemy, and he’ll concentrate his strength at Stalag, probably even go there himself. I don’t particularly want to meet the Wraith in a busy city where I can’t see him coming," Darien explained.

  "Avirosa? That's who the Duke mentioned. Was he sent to kill you by the Demon King?"

  "Yes," Darien answered. "Avirosa the Wraith is the Master’s best assassin. His specialty is stealth, tracking, and eliminating targets in foreign lands where discretion is required."

  "The Master? You mean the Demon King?" Jerris asked curiously.

  "Oh yes, sorry, an old habit," the Executioner explained. "He regards the Shades as his living weapons. Shades are taught to be unthinking, ruthless instruments of his will. They may only refer to him as 'Master', and they learn to carry out his will unflinchingly as if they were no more than a blade in his hand. Besides that, he taught me much of the magic I now use. Even now, I find it difficult to think of him as anything but Master."

  "That's… well that's awful," Jerris shifted uncomfortably and wrung his hands as he walked.

  "Awful? I dare say it is, and there is much worse. I could tell you things about the Master that would haunt your nightmares until your death," Darien said. "Be careful what you ask about him. I might actually tell you." Jerris gulped, but — Darien flashed a sly smile, just to be certain he did not frighten the lad too much. Jerris smiled weakly back, perhaps wondering what he had gotten himself into.

  Jerris remained silent for a few minutes before he began to speak again. "So why is Avirosa called the Wraith anyway?" Jerris asked, "And the Duke called you Darien the Executioner. Why the titles?"

  "When an apprentice becomes a Shade, that is, when he is fully inducted into the Order, he is expected to sever all ties to friends, family, and country. Familial names are discarded, and the titles become our names in the Order. Some choose their own, and others allow the Master to choose, as Avirosa did. The Master gave Avirosa the title of Wraith because of his gaunt appearance and his skill at striking without being seen," Darien explained. "On a more basic level, we are given titles for the same reason the Demon King took the title of the ancient enemy of the elves, to instill fear in others. The Master uses many weapons against his enemies, and fear is perhaps his greatest."

  “So why are you the Executioner?” Jerris pressed. “I mean, why that name? Was it your duty to carry out executions?”

  Darien fell silent for a time, deciding how much to reveal to the lad. The past few days had already called the nightmare to his mind too many times, and he was not prepared to speak of it openly. Perhaps he never would be. Nevertheless, the boy probably wouldn’t let the matter be without some kind of explanation.

  “Well, executions were part of my duty, yes, though not exclusively mine. The Master expected us to be able to kill on command, without hesitation, regardless of circumstance. Executions were an excellent method to train us in this skill.” Darien paused a moment and looked over at his young companion to see that the lad was accepting his explanation. Jerris looked back wide-eyed, unexpectedly curious, perhaps foolishly so. Darien sighed inwardly and continued, “My specialty was open warfare and single combat. I was usually dispatched to lands under the Master’s control to eliminate particularly powerful enemies who were beyond the skill of most of my peers. Sometimes I acted alone, but I was more often at the command of many soldiers. I never failed to eliminate the target, whether it was a city, an army, or a particular man. I was the Executioner in deed as well as name.”

  "So, this Avirosa. Do you know him? Did you fight together?"

  "Yes, I know him, but not well," Darien explained. "Avirosa specialized in stealth, tracking, and assassinating targets in foreign lands. His magic is subtler, and less direct than my own. He prefers not to fight at all if he can help it. He is more likely to set traps and plan ambushes, where he has the best chance of victory. He has an uncanny ability to manipulate the minds of others, and command powerful beasts to fight for him. I, however, almost always operated in the open. I was supposed to be seen, that was the point, a public demonstration of the Order’s power, and a warning to those who would dare to stand against us.”

  "Is he stronger than you? Could you beat him in a fight if it came to that? Having seen what you can do, I can't imagine anyone being able to beat you."

  Darien chuckled quietly; whether the lad was really so ignorant, or simply attempting flattery was unclear, but amusing either way. “Well, there is no doubt much you can’t imagine. There are perhaps ten or so shades who would stand a reasonable chance of beating me in a fight, particularly if they possessed the element of surprise. Avirosa is among them. A direct confrontation with him would be risky. He was nearly my equal in single combat when we served the Master, and I am now woefully out of practice. We stand a far better chance of getting out of this region without incident if we can avoid facing him. Still, I am fortunate in a way. There are more terrifying foes by far than Avirosa. There are the Black Council, five former shades whom the Master found so useful, that he used his power to extend their lives, and grant them inhuman abilities. The strongest of these, is Alistair the Abyss. If we encountered him, we would both die very quickly. He also has dragons in his employ," Darien explained.

  "So we're trying to avoid a fight then? How long do we have before Avirosa catches up to us?"

  "It's difficult to say," the older half-elf explained. "It may take only a few days for Avirosa to learn what happened at Kantu, or it may take weeks. It all depends on the diligence of the Duke. Even if we assume the worst, we will have a few days head start. Avirosa, however, will have horses and will be well supplied, so we cannot hope to move faster than him. We have a decent chance to make the southeastern pass before he can even begin pursuit. After that we will face difficult choices. There will be risks no matter what path we take.”

  "Alright, I understand, thank you," Jerris nodded, appearing to be truly grateful that his companion had shared his thoughts.

  They spoke very little after this. If Jerris was distraught by his mother’s death, he did not show it. He kept up with his more experienced companion, and made no complaint. The lad seemed, for the moment, to be driven by a strong sense of purpose. He handled the sudden shock of leaving everything he’d ever known behind him, and embarking on a difficult journey with a complete stranger far better than that stranger had expected.

  Darien feared more for the young man’s safety than for his own. He had long since resigned himself to a grisly fate of one kind or another. He knew that sooner or later, his luck would run out, and the Master would find him, but the thought that the innocent boy could end up sharing his fate troubled him. He was resolved to get the boy to safety. For the first time since he had betrayed the Demon King, he found himself with some purpose other than simply surviving, and that purpose more than anything else steeled him to face whatever peril lay ahead.

  Chapter 12: The City of Vorog

  Two days passed uneventfully as two unlikely companions made their way thr
ough the woods away from Kantu. In the early morning of the third day, they struck the road just north of the town of Raven Hill, a free town along the main road from Vorog in the east to Stalag in the west. They skirted the edge of the town to avoid being seen, and then continued on to the southeast toward Vorog.

  Beyond Raven Hill, the road sloped increasingly upwards, into the Red Mountains. The massive city of Vorog lay at the intersection of three branches of the Red Mountains, ideally situated to accommodate travel under the mountains to the regions east, west, and south of the city. As they climbed the steepening road, walls of imposing white capped peaks rose on either side of them. Directly ahead, one massive peak towered high above the others, its summit lost in thin white clouds, the mountain that the dwarves named Vor the Mighty, and the travelers’ destination.

  By late afternoon of the next day, Darien and Jerris stood at the massive entrance to the dwarven stronghold of Vorog. "Well, here we are," Darien said to Jerris as they weaved through the crowds toward the gate. Above them, immeasurably high, stood Vor the Mighty. Somewhere, far above, hidden by the thin wispy clouds, the high king of the Redstone dwarf clan dwelt in his palace.

  The two half-elves stood in the midst of a crowd of travelers going into and out of the mountain through a huge doorway. The cavernous semicircular doorway opened like a black mouth into the mountain. Two massive iron doors, each one ten feet thick and wide as it was tall, flanked the opening. The inner faces of the open doors were adorned with relief sculptures depicting scenes of dwarves in great battles, mostly with their traditional goblin enemies. Thin grey smoke billowed lazily out of the door and up into the afternoon sky.

  Just to the right of the road, a swift river sped past the base of the mountain, then tumbled down a sheer cliff face, disappearing into a veil of swirling white mist and fog, perhaps a hundred feet below. The sounds of the river rushing over the reddish gray stones and the din of the waterfall filled the air. All round the entrance, wagons, travelers, and pack animals swarmed about, trying to make their way in and out of the crowded doorway. Many wagons had lined up on the left side of the road, waiting for the inspectors to collect taxes on their various trade goods. One of the inspectors was having some sort of argument with one of the traders. They appeared to be almost yelling at one another, only about fifteen feet away, yet the words faded into the background hum of the waterfall, the river, and the voices of all the other travelers.