by J D Franx
"I understand. It is a noble goal, but I can’t imagine the cost."
“It is expensive, and we do have a high tax rate, but it is eighteen percent lower than the tax rate in Ellorya. And everyone pays fairly. We get surprisingly few complaints because we have no magical taboos or restrictions here.” As they approached the first wing of the soldiers’ barracks, their progress slowed further as recruits raced back and forth in a clear attempt not to be late for their next class or workout. "Surprisingly, about seventy to eighty percent of those training from youth stay on and become lifetime military. When they do, their classes change to strategy and command and a lot more training. Families with too many mouths to feed are also welcome to bring their children here. They are welcome to visit at any time and the crown will cover the cost of their stay. It has worked well for the ten years I have been king, and I don't have children starving, begging, or whoring on the streets."
The two men passed through the remainder of the barracks quietly. When Nekrosa turned right just before the entrance to the training grounds, Max knew they were headed to the armory. Upon entering the weapon room, they had to wait as a squad of DeathDogs—men from Nekrosa's personal guard and DormaSai's most experienced warriors—finished gearing up for their daily practice routine. When the large room was empty, Nekrosa led Max to the secured back vault. It was the room where all unused magical weapons and the King's personal collection were kept.
As he began to unravel the complex spell placed on the door, Nekrosa smiled. "There's something in here I'd like you to have. The gods know that no one else here will ever use it." With the magic dispelled, the three heavy lock bars slid back into their recessed sleeves with the quiet rasp of metal on wood. The inset door swung outwards, for added protection, and the two men entered.
Max followed Nekrosa to the back wall of the vault where a weapon hung suspended on two wool-covered hooks. His eyes shot wide and his heart raced with a familiar excitement at the sight of the massive black warhammer.
"It is yours if you want it," Nekrosa offered. "We know the handle has been rune-forged, yet it predates the arrival of the Northmen by several millennia at least. We have no idea what it's enchanted with or how it was done. None of my men can lift it, let alone swing it. Four of my strongest DeathDogs struggled to lift it high enough to hang it there." Max was not sure what to say as he reached out and gently touched the engraved handle of the big hammer. His fingers glided across the carved bone, feeling the crisp edges of the archaic writing that looked to be melted into the bone and metal. Not a square inch of the hammer was without the strange markings.
"It's different,” Max said. “Any ideas how it got here?"
"No. The hammer's head is made from a material we've never seen before, and it's inlaid with forged obsidian. All the writing and symbols are coated—perhaps stamped—with kinrai, the God's metal. We believe the handle is carved from the bone of a Dragon tail."
Max sighed, too tired to lie any longer. “It's not Dragon...”Max stared at the hammer as a need to possess it called from deep within his own soul. It had been so long since he had felt such a feeling that it ached. He wrapped both hands around the handle and lowered it from the wall with ease.
“... it's made from a demon's attack spur, from a KiPara demon...”
"I knew it." Nekrosa breathed out in awe.
"Knew what?" Max asked absent-mindedly, his attention still fixated on the war hammer.
"That hammer was found among the demon bones cataloged in the catacombs below the Ageless Library of the Arcane. The script with the hammer was written in the cypher of the gods. It cost me a fortune to get translated. One of which means: forged by the hands of the ArchDemon for the hands of a true Demon. Your strength and speed, the fact you can lift that hammer; it all adds up, Max. You're a demon, or you have demon blood in you, at the very least."
The weapon hummed in Max's palms. It reminded him of home. His real home. Memories he had not thought of for many millennia flashed in his mind… watching Vaighar… the mighty white Behemoth fall beneath the frenzied claws of the Vascuul… the oath of the Guardian Pact… and of his promise to the Gods of Talohna.
The most powerful of the memories were the twelve thousand years spent on Earth, waiting for two newborn Talohna children to be delivered to the small city of Rockton, South Dakota. For twenty years, he watched Kael and Ember grow to love each other, and he hoped his own world would not be destroyed by it. The charade was over. There was no longer any reason to hide the truth.
"DemonKind, Nekrosa. True DemonKind, and the second to sign the Guardian Pact."
Nekrosa was stunned by the revelation. "Ah... how is that even possible? Is history really that wrong?"
Max scoffed so suddenly, it turned into a snort of laughter. "You're a smart guy, Nekrosa. There are six Animus Seals, why?"
"From what Yrlissa said, I assumed there was one for each Lesser race?"
"All right, six seals means six races. What are they?" Max prompted.
"Well," Nekrosa began, "from what we know, the one here in DormaSai is the Human seal. the Dwarven seal is somewhere far to the north, close to the Black Kasym, likely on our side of it from what we know about the land shift from the Cataclysm. I assume the Dragon's Seal is on Ver Karmot." Max nodded as Nekrosa continued. "That leaves the Elvehn and Fae Seals, but we don't know where they are."
"I think you're one short, Nekrosa."
"Didn't I have six?" he said, puzzled and began counting his outstretched fingers. "Human, Dwarven, Dragon, Elvehn and Fae... shit, that's only five. Who are we missing?"
"The DemonKind," Max answered. "The one Kael died on. The first one to open."
"Then, history is wrong. There was no war between the Ancients and the DemonKind."
"Technically, yes there was, but it was the same war everyone else fought in. We fought alongside the other races against the Ri'Tek. We gave our blood in battle to seal them away just like the others. The Ri'Tek are who most of Talohna call the Ancients. But the DemonKind were small in number. Those like myself were created by the ArchDemon Salotan when he mixed the soul of a demon with that of a mortal soul suffering in his realm. Demonic magic was used to bring the joined souls back to life. It was magic he stole from Dathac. We acted as his generals, but other DemonKind were born in the living world from the pairing of demon and a member of the Lesser races. Vampyrs and were-creatures are these Kind's weakened ancestors, yes, but neither of them ever are true DemonKind Not by a long shot. I was one of only a few purebred Kind created by Salotan left alive before the Six sealed the Ri'Tek away. The Ancients started secretly wiping out my entire race long before the war started. Our strength, our immunity to magic, and some who could command our creator’s magic… all of that made us a target. On the battlefield one of us could easily destroy a fifty-man troop of Ri’Tek warriors in minutes.”
“What happened?” Nekrosa asked.
“The few remaining true DemonKind died in the same chamber as Kael while defending Asa N'ahai—the DeathWizard who sacrificed himself for our seal. I commanded the army at that seal's location, but I was fighting above ground while my people and a Guardian protected the DeathWizard.”
“That's incredible. What then?”
“I wasn't a Guardian like Yrlissa. For that you needed to wield magic and very few DemonKind did. Instead, it was my job to command the armies, but I was severely wounded fighting a white Vascuul dragon. A young Fae jumped me to Vaenaria where the Fae Matriarch saved my life and tried to get me back in the fight, but the plan worked and the Ri’Tek were sealed away. With no battle to return to, Eva and another Fae woman healed me slowly over the next few days, but before I was fully recovered, prophets began seeing the Ri’Tek’s eventual escape from the seals—Kael and Ember’s prophecy. I was asked to wait on Earth for them to arrive, should such a thing ever happen. The Fae matriarch, Eva Thornwing took me through a Fae-rift to Earth when Humans there were still far from evolved. The Last Light prophecy wa
s old even then, but it never made sense until the Ri’Tek were locked away. Every prophet since has seen it. Ten thousand years’ worth of planning, more even.”
"Oh, damn. If you were the second to sign the Pact, why doesn't Yrlissa recognize you?" Max spun towards Nekrosa, and the necromancer stumbled back, only his cane kept him from falling.
"Never will you tell her what I've told you, do you understand? As far as she knows I fell on the battlefield aeons ago."
"Max, I won't if that's your wish, but gods, don't you think she'd want to know? She's the only one left from back then, and she has been alone for five thousand years. Give her some peace of mind."
"I can't, Nekrosa. I'm not the same as I was then. A DemonKind couldn't go to Earth. There was magic… it mutated my body, changed me into what I am now. I am not what I used to be or who she knew, and I no longer want to know her. She evolved into the persona of an assassin, driven by her own agenda and she is not… the woman I knew would have had Ember jumping us to Kael the moment she figured out Ember was Fae, not let him die when she could have helped. That is not the woman I knew."
Max did his best to hide the deeper more intimate story behind his argument, but he could tell Nekrosa did not buy it.
Even so, the King still let it go. “Fair enough, you have my word, but she will figure it out sooner or later.”
“Yeah, she will,” Max muttered aloud. As his thoughts returned to the officer's barracks, he grinned at how well Nekrosa had kept his secret, but the King had been right about Yrlissa. Her attraction to Max was almost unnatural, and only he knew why. Over twelve thousand years ago, no two souls had been closer than theirs.
Now, it scared him. It was just one more reason why he missed Kael. He had never judged, and he had always listened. Max hoped beyond hope that Kael’s soul had made it to Paradise, that the real magic of the DeathWizard was indeed broken. If not, he feared for what torture his friend's soul would be going through.
Shaking his head, Max grabbed his warhammer and stared at one of Nekrosa's grotesque demon skeletons as it sat motionless in the corner of the barrack's recreation room. Though demons and the DemonKind seldom agreed on anything, the bones of the massive Lower Brethren still incited a sense of longing inside him for his true home.
With a need to distract his thoughts, Max forced himself to go join the DeathDog trainees in the yard. He nearly made it but stopped short as a ten-foot long shadow of magic snaked its way into the room. The shadow coiled tightly around the demon bones. The giant construct shivered to life as its eyes lit up, glowing a menacing blue. Max knew the origin of the demon bones well—the Kroa from Perdition's 8th Hell. Bones cracked, and dried sinew stretched as the eight-foot-tall demon bones unfolded to its full height. Clicking its razor-sharp claws, the demon snapped its tail stinger. The bones quivered, distorting the image to Max's eyes. Even in death, he realized the Kroa's deadliest ability still worked as the bones disappeared only to be replaced by the most beautiful woman he had seen since his own days walking the 8th Hell.
Smiling at him, she lunged without warning. As Max easily sidestepped the attack, he whirled to see the Kroa demon land in front of two Elloryan knights. Approaching both knights slowly, the demon smiled playfully over her shoulder at Max while her claws punched through each knight's metal chest-plate. Hypnotized by her beauty, the knights never stood a chance. She ripped her hand from their chests, clutching their hearts in her fists. She bowed to Max and dropped both hearts on the floor at his feet. The demon rushed from the room too fast for him to follow.
“Over twelve thousand years and those sisters are still a nasty piece of work,” he muttered. He did not have time to focus on her as he heard the cries of dying men coming from the training arena. Grabbing his warhammer in one hand and sliding his bow and quiver over his shoulder with the other, Max raced out to the training arena.
Chapter Eleven
ELLORYA
“… and finally that brings me to. Emperor Mero. What is there to say about this Southern Kingdom ruler who controls one of Talohna’s largest standing armies? He runs a tight country and, on the surface, it looks like he is an amazing man politician and leader. That being said, I have met the man in person and found him to be, well, unimpressive. As explained above, Ellorya is often a country where money and power have more say than the law and I believe that a ruler’s behaviors and ideals filter through to affect a country’s personality. Emperor Mero has built an impressive military machine, but his country will forever suffer from the lack morals that he himself possesses.”
Garren Sallus, A Traveler’s Codex Volume 1
BLACKVOID CASTLE
DRAE’KAHN, DORMASAI
“Yrlissa!” Ember cried as she stepped in front of Sephi and Nekrosa. The Elloryan wizard ten feet away unleashed a hell-storm of sizzling red fire on them. She pulled the DormaSai's King and Queen into her arms. The wicked spell scorched Ember's back, eating through her formal gown and into her flesh. The roar of the flames died, and she glanced over her shoulder in time to see the wizard fall. Yrlissa stood above him, a broken dagger in her right hand.
“You all right?” the assassin demanded.
Ember grunted to hold back the pain. “Fine. Already healing,” she lied. Even though she had her advanced Fae healing, it would still take some time for the heavy burns to heal. It was time they did not have. Looking at Sephi as she supported Nekrosa, Ember added, “We are too outnumbered to keep doing this. We need a way out of this castle, so we can regroup and find some support.”
“If Nekrosa were conscious, we could fight our way deeper into the castle,” Yrlissa suggested. She turned to look around the corner while she slid her broken dagger handle first into its sheath. “Can either of you help him?”
“I can wake him using Void-magic. Thank Dathac, they can't counter it,” Sephi offered.
“Yet,” Yrlissa mumbled. “It won't take them long to figure out a way. Believe me.”
“He won't be able to use magic for several days if I do wake him. The risk—”
“Wake him,” Ember interrupted her. “We're fighting with weapons anyway. My magic is still gone. Only my innate magics like accelerated healing and senses are working. Yrlissa?”
“Nothing,” the assassin said, shaking her head as Sephi and Ember propped Nekrosa against the wall. “Every one of Ellorya's unit commanders will have one of those Ancient amulets. Only Void-magic and that—like what Kael had—will work in its presence.”
Sephi gently slapped Nekrosa's cheek. “Come on, luv. Wake up. We need your help. Come back to me, husband. Follow my voice. The Void can hold you another day. Na gravasay dal toc.”
Nekrosa jerked awake, grasping at Sephi's gown. “Did they walk?”
“Yes, luv, you did it. The demon bones rose, but we're still outnumbered. We're losing. We must flee through the Library catacombs—if we can even make it that far.”
“Fair enough.” He agreed, climbing to his feet with Sephi's help. She handed him his walking cane, and he immediately twisted the handle. The long and smooth javelin blade slid out. “We're on the east side of the grand staircase. The barracks are on the west. They would have hit it hard and fast at the start of the attack, so getting there for soldiers and weapons is out of the question.”
“Max was there,” Ember whispered as she chewed her bottom lip.
“I know. He will fight his way to us sooner or later,” he told her, and Ember nodded.
Yrlissa shook her head. Pulling two metal daggers from within her boots, she sighed. “Whether he finds us or not, it won’t matter if we’re dead or captured. We need to get out of this castle,” she said. “Is that door behind the shelving of your personal library still working? The one that leads to the backside of the inner courtyard? It's close enough that we should be able to avoid the heavy fighting, and we can use the hidden entrance to the Arcane Library by the outer wall of the castle.”
Nekrosa frowned at Sephi. “Don't look at me, luv. I never told her
.”
“No one told me,” Yrlissa barked. “I walked the halls of this castle long before your ancestral line was born.”
“That is...” Nekrosa’s voice trailed off. “Yes, it's still there. Let's go.” Using his spear for support, Nekrosa limped around the corner with Yrlissa at his side. They moved as quickly as they cold down the narrow hallway without being seen. However, as they rounded another corner, two Elloryan wizards stood between them and the library door.
“Back, now! Shit,” Yrlissa hissed.
“I can take the one on the right with my spear,” Nekrosa whispered, peering around the corner.
Ember slid two throwing knives from the sheathes along her waist and offered them up to Yrlissa. “Quietly?” she asked.
Yrlissa took the knives and nodded at Nekrosa. “Can you distract them?”
He frowned. “No. Not without blacking out.”
“I got it,” Sephi interjected and took Nekrosa's place. “Na gravasay, shadus mal.” The shadows behind the two wizards came to life in wisps of black as she moved behind Nekrosa. A light hiss rose from the doorway, catching their attention. When they turned, the shadows vanished, teasing the guards. Yrlissa took the opportunity and rolled into the hallway. The throwing knives and Nekrosa’s spear whistled down the hall in unison. The spear hammered the wizard on the right, pinning him to the library door as the second wizard fell with two knives in his neck. His shield sputtered, spazzed, and winked out.
Yrlissa climbed to her feet as the others walked toward the dead wizards. “It's a good thing that crazy druid blessed those knives of yours, Ember. Gods, what kind of a wizard keeps a shield active all the time?”
“A paranoid one?” Sephi answered. “He is in Mero's employ after all.”
“Good point.” The assassin agreed.
“Let’s go” Ember said. She pulled her blades from the wizard's neck and throat. Standing slowly, she stared at the way the second wizard was pinned to the library door. Even though she had seen it happen, it was a bizarre and surreal sight. “Like some bizarre Hollywood movie.”