Sons of Evil: Book 1 Book of Dread

by Adams, David

  “Are you going to cleave me in two?” she asked, a sickening smile distorting her face, which was badly bruised on one side, the good one. On the other half her flesh had been torn or eaten away in spots, revealing most of her jaw and several teeth. “Go ahead if you wish. I am beyond any such harm.”

  Getting no reply, she went on. “I wish Landri would have simply killed me with a sword. It would have been so much easier on me that way. I called out to you then, Darius, to save me, but you weren’t there. You couldn’t help me. No one could. Death was a relief.”

  “Shut up,” Darius said, raising the sword a few inches. “You aren’t my sister.”

  She shrugged. “You can think what you want. By the way, Croupy says ‘Hello.’ ”

  Darius felt a chill go up his spine. “What did you say?”

  “Come, now, Darius. Surely you haven’t forgotten Croupy.”

  He hadn’t. The name had been one he had bestowed upon a boyhood friend who seemed to always be fighting a cough. Darius had never said the name aloud to anyone except his older sister…

  *

  “Silas.”

  The cleric froze. He had just lost sight of the little hunter demon, and had slowed, trying to pick up the trail again. But the voice that called his name, even after fifteen years, made his heartbeat quicken. Slowly he turned to regard her.

  She smiled at him and moved forward, then halted, the look on his face giving her pause. “Surely you have not forgotten me? Please say I meant more to you than that.”

  “You are not Carolyn.”

  Hearing her name seemed to bring her some relief. “I understand. This must be very hard for you.”

  “Perhaps not. You are only an illusion. When I grow weary of our conversation, I’ll send you back to the pit.”

  “There you speak the truth, though maybe not in the way you believe. But how can you say I am not the one you loved, all those years ago? You can see me plainly enough.”

  “True, and perfectly unaged. Odd, don’t you think?”

  She smiled, dropping her head slightly. “You always were impossible to lie to. But is it not better this way, to see me as you remember me?”

  Silas forced a laugh. “Why not? One lie is as good as another. At least you’re not wasting your time trying to convince me you are Carolyn.”

  “Oh, but I am. You mistake an admission of my current appearance being an illusion with the fact of who I am, or at least who I was in life.”

  Somehow, despite Silas’ own mental defenses, these words hurt him.

  Carolyn could read the flash of pain on his face. “Yes, I passed away several years ago. A fever that only grew worse. I called for you, near the end, but of course you weren’t there. That’s part of the pain I’ll carry through eternity, knowing what could have been for us. Knowing you threw it away to chase after some fantasy of serving God.”

  Silas lifted his staff in warning. “I’ll not hear you blaspheme.”

  “It matters not. In the end, we’ll all be together, not that there will be any joy in it. There is no joy at all down below.”

  “I wouldn’t expect there would be.”

  “But that is our fate. Mine, Luke’s, Barlow’s, yours.”

  “Is that why you’re here? To tell me that?”

  “Yes. And it was why Luke came, although you could not accept that he was who he said he was because of the forms our bodies take after death. Mine is no different. But if you see my true appearance, you will never believe my words.”

  “I don’t believe your words now, and I don’t believe you are Carolyn. But if you were, why come here to tell me these things?”

  “Because I have been set a task to dissuade you from this quest. And if I fail, I will be punished now, as you will be later, after your own passing. Oh, Silas, you don’t know despair and emptiness…there is nothing in life that can prepare you. Please, Silas, if you once loved me, heed my words.”

  She began to weep, and a part of Silas wanted to comfort her, so much so that his left foot moved a step toward her. “The fact you ask me to abandon the quest tells me your dark masters fear me completing it. That is enough reason for me to press on.”

  Her head dropped and her shoulders sagged, and her tears fell in single drops onto the ground while she sobbed. She shook her head and said, “I will still tell myself you loved me once, even through my agony.”

  “I did,” he said before he could stop himself.

  She looked up and said, “Hold me one last time, as you once did.” She lifted her open arms and moved toward him.

  *

  Barlow’s hesitation was brief, but still he chided himself for it. He knew he was tired—beyond tired even—but that was only an excuse. When facing an enemy such excuses meant nothing, and lowering one’s guard, even for an instant, can be fatal.

  Carlton Grey had been Barlow’s mentor over forty years ago, up until a weak heart took his life. The being before Barlow now was in appearance Grey as Barlow preferred to remember him, unbowed by age, a sparkle in his eye due to what he lived for and what he knew awaited him once he passed from this mortal plane. Barlow found the last somewhat ironic, considering what this creature was. He drew Gabriel and advanced.

  Grey held up his hands, showing he had left his weapon sheathed. “You always were quick to settle things with your blade. I hope you’ve not been abusing my sword.”

  “Carlton Grey’s sword has been used only for its intended purpose. Cleaving you in half would be included in that description.”

  “In a moment, perhaps,” said Grey, giving ground. “I was hoping you’d listen to what I had to say first.”

  “No point in it,” Barlow replied. “Lies, I’m certain, and nothing else.” He drew nearer.

  “If you’d take a moment to use your brain, which is no doubt addled by a lack of sleep, you’d wonder why Gabriel sheds no light.”

  Barlow looked at his weapon, and seeing that it did in fact cast no light, he stopped.

  “You see,” Grey went on. “Not a demon, as you supposed.”

  “Then what are you?”

  “Do you doubt your eyes?”

  “No. But I know deceit is the way of the enemy. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  Grey laughed. “So I didn’t. I’m a messenger, if you like, trying to impart one last lesson to my best student.”

  “I don’t like it,” Barlow said, “nor believe it. I reserve the right to employ my weapon as I see fit.”

  “Fair enough. And perhaps you’ll find I can still defend myself as well as in the old days.” At this Grey drew his own sword.

  Barlow was almost disappointed that Grey’s weapon appeared ordinary. “Speak your mind then, and be off.”

  Grey shook his head. “I really have failed you, Barlow. Quick to anger. Impatient. But these are quibbles. It is in our faith that we’ve gone astray.”

  “And yet you claim not to be a demon.”

  “No, I am not. That I’ve avoided. But the alternative…isn’t much better. There is a place for souls like mine and yours, but not heaven or hell. Just an empty void, really. A place to wander though time and space.”

  “To what purpose?”

  Grey shrugged. “I wish I knew. None are there to guide us, to lead us. We are lost, all of us, even if we aren’t damned.”

  “And yet you are here. How did you manage that?”

  “We can cross over, from time to time. Surely you’ve heard of ghosts, hauntings, warnings from beyond the grave.”

  “I think what I’ve heard is enough of your lies.” Barlow started forward, purpose in his step.

  Grey fell back a few paces, but readied his weapon. “That’s right, if you don’t like the message, kill the messenger. Or at least try to.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Barlow said.

  Their swords rang out loudly in the silent wood.

  *

  Silas was the first to return to where Adrianna waited, but his arrival, rather than bringing
her comfort, made her uneasy. She struggled to put a finger on why…

  His expression softened when he saw her, and his shoulders dropped with relief. “At least two of us are together. Do you know where the others are?”

  She pointed in the direction she had last seen them moving, and then it hit her. Silas had come back from the wrong direction. It was possible that he could have done so, yes. Anyone could get turned around in these woods. But she had stayed still for just such a reason, and Silas would have had to take a long, circuitous route to return from the north rather than the south.

  He glanced in the direction she had pointed, then casually moved toward her.

  Stilling her racing heart and mind, she gathered her focus and cast a spell.

  Silas was gone, Adrianna’s magic dispelling the illusion the demon had created. The effect was evident to it as well. It looked at its arms, now bare and rustred in color. “Well done,” it said. “You are perhaps a bit more resourceful than your friends.”

  “What do you want?”

  “The book would be a start. Your soul would also be a tasty treat.”

  Adrianna forced a smile. “You’ll get neither.”

  “For the time being, you may be correct. But you do not understand what it is you’ve set your will against. Ageless beings of unimaginable power. Your machinations are of no avail against such formidable foes.”

  The demon’s words seemed all too true. She spoke to bury the feeling of gloom welling up within her. “Do you include yourself in this elite group?”

  The demon laughed. “Hardly. I am only a lowly spirit, fit for little more than occasional mischief, and perhaps to deliver a message.”

  “Well, you’ve done so. We’re all doomed. I get it.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t become you.”

  “An opinion now as well. I think I should be touched to get this extra attention.”

  The demon smiled a wicked grin. “Maybe someday I’ll be rewarded by my masters, and then I’ll give you all the attention you could ever want and more. For now, understand your quest is hopeless, as is the future of your world. The portal is open, and it cannot be shut. Sort of ironic really, considering the book is closed and can’t be opened.” The demon laughed, at first mildly and then hysterically, amused by its own wit.

  Adrianna had heard enough. She felt she should be able to bandy words with such a being, to detain it and see what she might learn, but the feeling of dread she had been fighting for days was all too vibrant with the demon this close. She started to mouth the words of another spell.

  The demon heard her, bringing it out of its reverie. “I’ll save you the trouble,” it said. “But I do so look forward to seeing you again. Next time we meet, I’ll be able to show you my world.” It raised its arms, then dropped them swiftly. In a puff of foul-smelling smoke it was gone.

  *

  Darius felt his equilibrium leaving him, his tired mind swirling. His shoulder found a tree, keeping him upright, but slowly he slid to the ground, the weight of dark thoughts forcing him down. Surely this couldn’t really be Sasha. But she had used that nickname, “Croupy.” He shook his head as if hoping to knock loose a clear thought that might help him.

  Sasha moved toward him, casually. “It’s all right, brother. The hardest part is accepting the truth. Once that’s done, you can start adjusting to it.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to look up. He noticed an uncomfortable pressure on his back, where his pack, caught between his body and the tree, was pinned. He shifted, almost unconsciously, but rather than helping, a bright blossom of pain flared, a hard object probing a muscle. He shifted again, the pain causing him to focus, if only for an instant.

  It was the corner of the book he felt.

  For a moment it was clear. He still had the book, and therefore the hunter, since it appeared with the book, had to have been an illusion, and Sasha was just the latest guise. He knew the name Croupy, and the thing before him was using his thoughts to create Sasha, so, of course, it knew that secret because Darius did.

  Darius saw Sasha’s feet on the ground before him.

  “Come, brother,” she said. “You are weary and burdened with sorrows. Let me comfort you. Let me ease your pain.”

  Something in her words, in her tone, was like a siren call. He felt the clarity leaving his mind, felt the questions and doubts and fears forcing their way in again. He had to act, now, before it was too late.

  The sword had never left his hand, although his grip had slackened. He looked up, asked the heavenly powers for forgiveness, then swung his weapon with all his might at his sister’s midsection.

  She dropped to the ground, the look on her face more shock than pain. For an awful moment she remained Sasha, and Darius felt an icy hand squeezing his heart. Then the illusion was gone, and a demon lay on the ground, its dark blood staining the soil. Darius found his feet and backed away.

  “Go ahead and run,” the demon croaked. “There is nowhere you can hide.” Then it was gone.

  *

  Silas held his staff at arm’s-length. “Stay back. I’ll not have you draw near.”

  Tears rolled freely down Carolyn’s face. “You would reject me again? Deny me even the smallest comfort?”

  Silas slowly edged back. Her face, her tears…she looked exactly as she had all those years ago when he left her. He had never been able to clear that image from his mind, had never fully buried the guilt of seeing how much he had hurt her. For a moment he was reliving it again, and the old wounds tore open and bled anew.

  He stumbled on the root of a tree, not coming close to falling, but enough to distract him for a second.

  She took advantage of the interlude by taking three quick steps, closing the gap between them.

  Silas knew he should end this, was uncomfortable with how close she was getting. Her tears still flowed, but there was something else on her face, a second look under the pain and sorrow, a subtle hint around the mouth that a smile was there under the mask. He still couldn’t bring himself to attack, not yet, but that second face, the real one, peeking out was enough to prod him to action. He spun the staff and used the end to strike a quick blow to her stomach, halting her progress and knocking her to the ground.

  If he expected this to break the spell, or force her to attack, he was disappointed. She sat on the ground, sobbing more deeply than before, making him feel like even more of a heel for not helping her up. He wanted to go to her, could almost feel the battle raging in his mind. He held his ground.

  “You haven’t changed, Silas,” she said, “although I remember you as being more gallant. Once you’ve made your mind up about something, no one can dissuade you.”

  Silas maintained his silence and his distance.

  Carolyn took a deep breath, then shuddered. Her face was still streaked with the tracks of her tears, but she managed to stop shedding them. “I will leave you now, and go to face my ordeal alone. Funny, how you caused me so much pain in life, and now even in death, it does not end.” She found her feet, moved off a few steps, then turned to regard him one last time. “We will see each other again one day, Silas. Then we will embrace, for good or ill.”

  He watched her go, his feet set and unmoving. It had been he that had walked away before, all those years ago. He found that this was nearly as hard.

  *

  Fighting with swords requires concentration and a willingness to act on instinct. Barlow’s jumbled thoughts threatened to interfere with what was required to survive this battle, and although he wanted to either sort things out or shut the questions in his head off completely, for now he could do neither. If this really was Carlton Grey, he wasn’t sure he was capable of beating him. Was doubt slowing him down, making him hold back? If he fought a demon—and he was no longer certain that such was the case—it was either well-trained or taking advantage of his reluctance to destroy his old master.

  “You’ve slowed with age,” Grey said.

  “So have you,” Barlow an
swered without conviction. “Or maybe in your case, death has slowed you.”

  “Touché,” he said, hopping back. Just as suddenly, he lunged forward, cutting low.

  Barlow parried the blow, and brought Gabriel around in an arc toward Grey’s head.

  Grey ducked, then stepped back with a smile. “Appears to be a stalemate, my old friend. I have to admit, I’m a bit disappointed. I sort of hoped you would prove my better, make me feel that at least my effort to train you with the sword had some value. And it’s not like you can really hurt me, at least not physically. But it appears everything I’ve taught you was in vain.”

  Barlow closed swiftly. “Sorry to let you down,” he said while trying to drive his sword into Grey’s stomach.

  Grey batted the attempt aside. “At least you haven’t bothered trying to pass on what you’ve learned. That should be another disappointment, but with what I now know, it would have been just more wasted effort.”

  The comment hit one of Barlow’s weak spots. He had always felt a degree of guilt about not finding a student of his own, preferably more than one. The world had changed, and he had grown old, but still… Part of Barlow wanted to simply crumple to the ground, to quit fighting and just admit he had failed in so many ways. But another part of him pushed for swift action, a reflex to bury the guilt as he had done so many times before. His attack took on renewed energy.

  Grey was caught a bit unprepared for the sudden fury Barlow displayed, but after yielding some ground, he found his balance once more. He drove forward, and the two men clutched at one another, their swords between them.

  Barlow turned his face to keep away from the edge of his own blade. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a quick glimmer of light. With a surge of strength born of discovery, he pushed Grey away, then looked at Gabriel’s keen edge.

  The white glow was there, only a tiny sliver of light, and that only visible when the sword’s edge was perfectly perpendicular to his sight. “Another illusion,” he said. “This one cast over the sword.”

  If Grey wanted to answer, he wasn’t given the chance. Barlow found another reserve of energy, knowing he had nearly been fooled, knowing his mentor’s image and teaching was being defiled by a demon. Whatever skill the demon had with a blade was no match for the swordplay of the reinvigorated paladin. The demon managed to parry a dozen strikes or more, but was slower to counter each successive blow, and Barlow pressed in hard, ensuring he never gave the demon a chance to retake the initiative. Finally Gabriel struck home, and the demon’s flesh was no match for the holy sword. As it expired it reverted to its true appearance, and Gabriel, free of the spell that shielded its light, shone fiercely for a second before its brilliance, like the demon’s life, faded away.