The Devil's Cave: A Humorous Fantasy Novel (The Legends of Damon Arkon: The World's Greatest Swordfighter)
Page 1
The Devil's Cave
The Legends of Damon Arkon: The World’s Greatest Swordfighter
Everson Cook
Contents
Become Part of the Legend
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Get a Damon Arkon Exclusive
Enjoy this book?
About the Author
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission of the publisher.
Contact can be made at eversoncook.com.
Text copyright © 2019 by Everson Cook
Cover created by Darko Tomic - paganus
All rights reserved.
Follow us on:
Facebook at facebook.com/eversoncook
Instagram at instagram.com/eversoncook
Twitter at twitter.com/Everson_Cook
Become Part of the Legend
Everson Cook’s subscribers get free books, looks behind the curtain, and exclusive opportunities. For what exactly? Who knows? But they’re exclusive…!
Subscribers are always the first to hear about Everson Cook’s new books. And what he is currently drinking.
See the back of the book for details on how to sign up and become part of the legend today!
For my wife who said, "So, it's just a book full of dick jokes?"
To which I replied, "Yes."
1
Damon Arkon was screwed.
Literally and figuratively.
Literally in that he had just gotten done screwing Princess Nortia. Figuratively in that a member of the king's guard was currently standing over him, aiming what appeared to Damon to be an unusually sharp sword at his rapidly deflating dick, and Damon saw no good way of getting out of this predicament. Only several bad ways. And he did what he could to push the bad ones out of his head.
Damon had been caught in this position before. Not with a sword aimed at his dick, of course. For Damon, this particular detail was a first. But he was very familiar with post-coitus discovery. Usually he'd been able to escape from the room before that happened. Generally moments before the husband walked in. Those times his hands weren't tied together above his head.
There was no good way of covering up what had occurred in the princess's room. It was pretty obvious what was going on moments before the guard burst in and Damon burst in as well, only in a different way.
Besides Damon's tied hands, there was the fact that neither he nor the princess were wearing any clothes. There was also the fact that they were both breathing heavily as though they had partaken in some kind of laborious cardio exercise. Both of their bodies glistened in a sheen of sweat. There was a heavy odor of sex. Something that Damon had discovered throughout the years was difficult to rid a room of quickly. And of course there were the candles. Now granted, candles were among the very few ways to light a room, but these candles looked incredibly sensual. Like the type of candles generally reserved for special occasions like a birthday or an anniversary.
The guard, a man with broad shoulders and a surprisingly impressive beard, tried to remain professional and averted his eyes from the nubile princess's body. Princess Nortia was mostly covered in a blanket, but the parts the guard could've seen if he looked were exquisite. Her right leg, her left foot, both her arms, her hands, one of them weighed down with a sizable diamond ring, her heaving freckle-covered chest, her face, the cheeks slightly red from the hairs of Damon's beard rubbing against it, and her tousled, straw-colored hair. The parts he couldn't see weren't bad on the eyes either. It was one of the reasons she was betrothed to King Glendorrys. The other reason was, obviously, political. But that wasn't as much fun to talk about as Princess Nortia's incredibly great looks.
Damon coughed, drawing the attention of the guard and the princess back to the more important thing in the room. Himself. He caught Princess Nortia's eyes and directed them toward his shrunken manhood. The princess's eyes widened in dismay, but understanding. She didn't think any man would stand up to the pressure of that situation for too long.
"Guard, as your future queen, I demand you lower your sword," Princess Nortia said. Her arms crossed over her breasts forcing them up higher on her chest. She held her nose high in the air. Well, she didn't hold it, but rather tilted her head in such a dignified manner that it pointed up.
"Carefully," Damon added. Damon's stomach was sucked in revealing the abdomen of a man who enjoyed ale, but also found himself in enough contests of both the violent and romantic persuasion that he was able to maintain a perfectly adequate physique. A thick white scar snaked down from his armpit to his belly button.
"I don't know how true that statement will hold, ma'am, once the king hears about this. But for the time being, I will obey your command."
The guard lowered his sword and dropped back. The rattle of his armor echoed off the thick rock walls of the room. The noise was almost as discordant as the sound of the love-making had been.
"Thank you," Damon said. He exhaled deeply. His body settled into the mattress that was full of feathers from the Calicant bird that was native to Flenshorn.
"You shut your mouth. I might have to listen to the princess over there, but I don't have to listen to you," the guard sneered.
"Guard. Can I call you guard? I feel like maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I am Damon Arkon." Damon's muscular shoulders flexed as he attempted to shake the guard's hand. He remembered that he was tied up and quickly abandoned the gesture.
"Should that mean something to me?" the guard scoffed.
"Damon. Arkon," Damon said a little slower, slightly lifting the last syllable up as if asking a question. His hazel eyes studied the guard for recognition.
The guard stared blankly back at him. Clearly the name meant nothing to the man. Damon shook his head. He was a little surprised. A little frustrated. He tried not to let either emotion play across his face. But he wasn't very good at keeping his face deadpan.
"Guard, I am Damon Arkon, The World's Greatest Swordfighter," Damon snapped. He had lost what little patience he possessed.
The guard chuckled. "You are not."
"I most definitely am," Damon chuckled at the hysterical suggestion that he wasn't.
"He's very masterful with his sword," Princess Nortia said. A blush rose from her chest to her chapped cheeks. "He ba
sically split me in two with it. I've never felt someone make such a precise cut. I almost thought I was going to die."
Damon gave her an appreciative nod of his head. His shaggy black hair waved with the movement.
The princess giggled. Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Lance Polehea is the world's greatest swordfighter. Everyone knows that," the guard said, choosing to ignore the princess's obvious innuendos.
"Lance Polehea?" Damon's eyes drifted to the side of the room as he trailed off in thought. Then turning back to the guard said, "Never heard of him. Although I am a tad jealous of his name."
"How could you claim to be the best, yet have never heard of Lance Polehea?"
"I mean, maybe he's just not that great." Damon shrugged. His lower lip jutted out from his mouth.
"Lance is actually pretty great," the princess chimed in. "I mean, his name is 'Lance.' That's usually a sign of someone who's good with swords."
A thought flickered in Damon's eyes. Perhaps there was a way out of this. The guard did seem pretty enamored with that other, allegedly great swordfighter after all. As hastily formed plans went, it wasn't the worst. And Damon was a man with his fair share of hastily formed plans. It was worth a shot.
"So, if this Lance is so great, why don't you let me fight him? If I win, I'll prove to you that I'm obviously the world's greatest swordfighter. If I lose, then clearly it was Lance. Seems fair."
"This isn't a decision for a guard to make. This is a decision for the king."
"So, why don't you go ask him? The princess and I will wait right here for your return. We promise we'll be good." Damon winked at the princess and shook his head.
"Oh, and could you also bring me a tankard of ale? I'm pretty parched. And perhaps a pickle?"
"Yeah, right. You must think I'm an idiot."
"Well, I was hoping you were. But you're not as dumb as you look."
"You think I look dumb?"
"Only slightly." Damon gave the guard one of his charming smiles. The kind of smile he reserved for situations in which he was being kind of a dick, but wanted to seem like he was still a nice guy deep down. It was the smile he used more often than not.
"At least I didn't get caught with the king's betrothed."
"You do have me there. Getting caught definitely wasn't great on my part. Although, the part before you walked in was pretty great." Damon winked at the princess. Was he winking too much, he wondered. He could never tell. "But, I guess the real question is, why do you care?"
"She's going to be the queen!" the guard said as if that was all that mattered.
"Right, well, she still can be."
"Probably not," the guard said in a monotone. His shoulders slumped. Underneath the helmet Damon thought he might have seen a single tear roll down the guard's cheek. Although it might've been sweat. The room was incredibly warm.
"Probably not?" Damon and the princess said in concerned unison.
"The queen should be pure. You've ruined her. There is no way to repair the damage you've done."
Princess Nortia jumped up from the bed. The sheet slid off her revealing her fully nude body.
Bless the Gods, those are fantastic breasts, Damon thought to himself. And they really were. Just fantastic. The best in all the five kingdoms. Damon had seen the majority of them and felt like it was truly a fair assessment. If there had been more time, Damon might have tried to get a drawing done of them. Maybe there still would be time. He'd gladly wait and see.
The princess threw on her robes. She cinched them tightly around her body.
Damn, Damon thought. Perhaps another time.
"There may be no way for Damon to repair the damage he's done. I honestly don't know if I'll walk right for a week. But I'm sure I can fix this. Or at least I'm willing to try. I'll go see the king myself and explain to him exactly what happened. I'll explain to him that I never loved him and never will. My body, heart and soul belong to another."
The guard scoffed.
"Yeah, maybe come up with a different plan," Damon urged.
"I'm sure he'll understand. I've never known the king to be anything but reasonable."
The princess swept her hair back in a bun. She started toward the door. She stopped next to the guard, turned back to the bed and blew Damon a kiss.
"I'd catch it, maybe return another to you, but you know, still tied up here." Damon tilted his head in the direction of his hands. "Really appreciate the gesture though."
Princess Nortia smiled. "I'll be back in five minutes. Don't worry. Then we'll get out of here. Together."
She playfully slapped the guard on the chest with her open palm and headed down the hall. She hummed softly to herself as she went. The flames in the wall sconces flickered as the princess fluttered by them until, eventually, Damon could no longer see her.
After ten minutes she still had not returned.
After fifteen, another guard popped his head into the room. He was bearded, though less impressively, and his shoulders were slightly less broad than the original guard who continued to stand watch over Damon.
The ordinary bearded guard took one look at Damon, who was still tied, then to the other guard.
"You're to take him to the jail."
The profoundly bearded guard nodded.
"What about the princess?" Damon asked.
The amazing bearded guard came over and sliced the ties from Damon's wrists. He was careful so as not to penetrate Damon's flesh with his blade.
Damon rubbed at his freed wrists. They were pretty raw. They stung slightly. He gradually worked some blood back into them.
"What about the princess?" Damon asked again as he began putting his clothes back on after the guard tossed them at him.
"I'm to take you to the jail."
"I know, I heard that part. But what about the princess?"
"If you heard that part, then you know nothing was said about the princess."
"Hey, you, guard standing outside the door."
The guard standing outside the door looked up and down the hallway. Then back to Damon. He brought his hand to his chest in a gesture that questioned whether it was he who Damon was speaking to.
"Yes, you. The one with the trivial beard. Do you know when I'll get to see the princess again?" Damon asked as he finished slipping his boots on.
The guard popped his head back into the room.
"We're to take you to the jail."
The guard inside the room grabbed Damon and roughly shoved him out of the room. Damon straightened his tunic.
Then he calculated his next move as the two guards, one on each side, walked him down the hall in the direction of the jail.
2
The jail was located in the lower level of the castle. It was at the end of the hall, down three or four flights of stairs, Damon honestly wasn't counting, until there were no longer windows, no air, and the only sound was screams.
"Are you sure we can't work something out here guys?" Damon chuckled weakly. "Money? Pints? Women? All three?"
The weak-bearded guard walking on Damon's left roughly shoved him forward.
"Keep your mouth shut. And keep moving."
The screams got louder. They weren't the primal screams of pleasure like the ones coming from the princess earlier. They were dark, terrifying, blood-curdling howls . It reminded Damon of a jousting match, only one where everyone wanted to kill each other instead of enjoying watching the contestants.
He turned and dropped to his knees. He wasn't a fan of begging, but he also wasn't a fan of dying. And the closer they got to the bottom, the louder the screams got. And they made his hair stand on end.
"Please. I'll do anything. I made a mistake. I know that now. I'll never sleep with another woman as long as I li...Well, no, not as long as that, but at least a month. Eh... how about a week? I can go a week. What do you say guys? A week?"
"On your feet," said the amazingly-bearded guard who was now positioned to Damon's left.
The unremarkable-bearded guard, now on Damon's right, didn't give Damon the courtesy of time. Instead, he grabbed Damon and hauled him upright from the ground. Damon assumed it was because he, Damon Arkon, could grow a better beard than this puny man who cowered behind his authority. If it was a fair fight, and very few fights that involved Damon were, due to his being the world's greatest swordfighter and hence always at an advantage, at least when it came to swordfighting, he knew that he would best this guard. Unfortunately, neither guard was carrying a sword, so there wasn't much Damon could do. Beyond the begging.
"Stop sniveling," the left guard said.
"You make us stop one more time and we'll kick you to the bottom," the right guard said.
Damon brushed himself off. He turned his back to both guards and continued the descent. He raised both of his hands in surrender.
"You can't fault a guy for trying."
The rest of the trip was spent mostly in silence. Except for the wavering off-key sound of Damon whistling what could only be described as a dirge. And, of course, the screaming.
3