by Paul Barrett
Loray’s wheezing voice spoke again. “By the bonding…power of…my blood…and the eldritch might of…the falchion…”
I watched the demons in fascination as Loray droned on about them now being under his command. They stared at him. Their eyes, which I had thought pitiless, now appeared glazed. The one that hiccupped did it again. Then he belched. The other grinned, exposing his sharp teeth. They were stained purple, and a runner of saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.
“And so…” Loray was wrapping up his diatribe, “I command you to…destroy my foes.”
They stared at him as if he had spoken in an unknown language. Aznag gave a burbling laugh. A slow-witted gurgling sound I recognized as something I had often done.
“Hey, dipshits,” I shouted. The twins turned to me slowly. Azrog stumbled, stepping on an elf who had frozen in terror at their arrival. The elf’s head popped like a grape. I grimaced, but that clumsiness confirmed my suspicions.
“They’re drunk,” I shouted to the others.
They further confirmed it when Aznag spoke in a slurred voice deep as a bottomless pit. “Are not. You’re drunk.”
Somehow the tons of wine had mixed with the magical infusion and affected them. I didn’t know if being drunk made them any less dangerous, but it gave us a chance.
“Obey me,” Loray screamed. “You are mine…to—”
Azrog took one long stride and slapped Loray as if the mage were an annoying fly. He flew twenty feet, slammed into a stalagmite, and fell to the ground, dead or unconscious.
“Make my head hurt,” the demon said. “Hungry.” He looked at his brother. “You hungry.”
“Always,” Aznag said.
“Oh look, a dwarf,” Azrog said.
“Run,” Liz shouted. Heads swiveled toward her. Eyes narrowed. Drunk or not, they still hated Liz’s race.
“Hide,” I shouted back. I didn’t have to say it twice. Whatever Siralanna had done to Liz had worn off. She changed into something like a gecko and scrambled beneath the rocks. Her broken arm became a broken front leg. Despite it slowing her down, she still disappeared in quick order.
Aznag and Azrog roared in rock-splintering fury and lurched after her. Klaus, Quinitas, and Siralanna scattered unnecessarily. The demons were intent on nothing but Liz.
I scanned the cavern floor and spotted the rapier. I ran over and grabbed it. The sound of tossed rock and breaking wood filled the cavern. They were flinging aside the machine looking for Liz.
I had no idea what I could do. The slim blade might as well be a mosquito. I watched the demons. Aznag whirled as Liz ran between his legs. He tried to step on her but fell over. Even hindered by their drunkenness, they had not lost the sight or scent of Liz. I needed to distract them and give my friend a chance to truly escape.
“Hey, why don’t you pick on someone your size?” I shouted. They ignored me. I stalked toward them, thinking I’d feel more confident if I had at least an axe in my hand.
A tingle of magic ran through me, and the rapier turned momentarily insubstantial. When it re-solidified, it had changed into a hand axe.
I had snagged a morph weapon.
A scream interrupted my surprise. The demons had caught Liz. She had returned to her normal size. They each had a hand on her and held her between them like a wishbone.
“Share?” Azrog, holding her lower half, asked. Aznag nodded, and they prepared to rip her in half.
I saw the still powerless Quinitas trying in vain to cast magic. Klaus ran toward the demons, claws extended. Siralanna did nothing but pout that her prize demons had been wrested from her.
None of us would reach her in time to save her. I had only one hope. “Battleaxe,” I said. The weapon again melted and reformed in my hand. Not big enough. “Gigantic fucking axe,” I said.
The weapon grew six feet tall, the head two feet wide. It weighed at least as much as I did. I managed to keep it upright, but I would never be able to throw it.
That wasn’t my plan anyway. I latched on to it with my mind and flung it toward the demon. Lots of power, no finesse.
Power was what I needed. The blade slammed into the demon’s arm that held Liz and sheared through it as it were a large log of butter. It fell away from the shoulder. The hand flinched open, and Liz swung, still held by Aznag. Ichor spewed like a black waterfall as the demon flailed. The hellish stream struck a few elves cowering nearby. They screamed and fled as the fire-hot blood burned them. Klaus dove out of the way and barely missed a jet of gore striking him. A burst hit Liz as she dangled in Aznag’s hand, but her hide protected her. The wounded Azrog roared and turned toward me.
He would have been better served looking toward the axe. With a grunt of effort, I reversed the blade’s course. My eyes blurred. I was glad I had a giant target as I aimed for what I hoped was the center of the demon’s back. Even as my head felt ready to collapse on itself, the blade flew true.
The axe struck Azrog between the shoulders, carved through him, and protruded out his chest. Ichor leaked around the gleaming blade and melted the metal. Iron ran down his chest with the blood. He was a big demon, but he was drunk and not prepared. And no matter how badass you are, a two-foot blade through your heart is going to put you down.
I fell to the ground with my head ringing like temple bells during a harvest celebration. Azrog screamed in agony and collapsed. His fall rattled the ground. Brimstone-scented dust plumed through the air. He landed on his face and lay still
For a brief moment, I hoped Aznag would die too. But demons don’t suffer the same vulnerability as elves.
Astonishment from a demon is not something I ever expected to witness in my living days. As his brother died, Aznag stared in incomprehension. When he realized the impossible had happened, he let out a scream of outrage that had me clutching my ears. Then he looked at me. His drunken black eyes promised my imminent death.
Liz, her legs free, swung up and latched her feet claws into Aznag’s stomach. He looked annoyed and released her arms. Rather than jumping free, she slammed the hand from her unbroken arm into his chest, sinking her talons deep. Fire from the skin crackled around her but didn’t hurt her. The demon again looked astonished, then irritated as she opened her mouth and bit him.
“Liz, get away from him,” I screamed. I fell over as the agony in my head almost blinded me. I expected to lay there in misery and watch Liz get eaten by a toasted demon.
Instead, I observed through pain-blurred vision as Liz made a convulsive movement with her head. Her body went rigid and her neck flexed. Around her mouth, the demon’s crimson skin turned a mottled black. The fiend grabbed her and tried to rip her away. She stuck like a tick. She shook her head, and the demon’s skin sheared away. He roared in pain. Liquefied skin fell and splatted on the ground. Liz turned her head and spat a huge gob of it from her mouth. Then she dove back in.
Like an ant on a leaf, she tore into the demon’s chest. He tugged at her with hellish fury. She remained latched. As she delved deeper, he grew weaker. Within a minute, she tore through the bone and reached his heart. I could see it beating, black and putrid. Her jaw opened so wide it seemed her head split. Her teeth sank into the beast’s heart. Ichor exploded in such a gush it finally dislodged her. She fell fifteen feet to the ground and lay there unconscious.
The damage was done. Aznag put his hands to his chest, trying to stop the flow. It leaked between his fingers and ran down his stomach. Wherever the ichor touched the flames on his skin, the fire winked out. He dropped to his knees. One last moaning wail erupted from him, and he toppled. He fell toward me. I was too fatigued to even move. His horn landed a foot within spearing me in the face. Grit tinted with an oily tang blew past me. Ichor splattered me in drops, burning me, but I could do little to stop it.
After a period of blackness, I felt hands clutching me from behind. I struggled to escape, weak as fly larvae.
“Stop it,” Quinitas said. “I’m trying to help you.”
I quit
moving, and he got me to my feet. I wobbled but managed to remain standing. There was nothing on me that didn’t hurt. “Is Liz alive?”
“She is,” Quinitas said. “Klaus is tending her. She has a broken leg to go with her arm, but she’ll mend.”
“She’s never going to talk to me again,” I said. “I need a drink.”
I looked around, hoping in vain to find a bottle of wine that had miraculously escaped the destruction. I was that desperate. No such luck.
I didn’t see Siralanna and feared she had escaped during the fight with the demons. I was about to ask when one of the cavern walls exploded.
19
“What in the name of sandstone?” I said.
Six beautiful, buxom human females floated through the gigantic opening in the wall. Three blondes, two brunettes, and one redhead. They wore tight-fitting robes that clung to their waists and all but pushed their boobs out the front. The tingle of magic drifted around them. An air of arrogance touched all their faces as they fanned out, dark wooden staffs held in an attack position.
Drifting in behind them came the Good Wizard Gosley himself, darkly handsome and bronze-skinned. A pointed goatee sharpened his angular face, as did the short cut of his black hair. He didn’t wear the usual magician’s robes. Instead, he sported a well-tailored blue silk doublet, crisp black pants, and calf-high leather boots. He looked more like a dandy than a wizard. Though the only real difference between those two is that one can do magic.
He held a wand of dark wood tipped with gold. A blue aura hovered around him as he floated across. His presence radiated power and pomposity, from the shine of his boots and gleam of oiled hair to the sneer that revealed his overly white teeth. He was the kind of person you wanted to punch upon meeting them.
Coming in behind him, looking terrified, was—
“Crizlyk!” I screamed. Dots swam before my eyes at the effort.
The sauro looked down at my shout. A grin split his scaly green face when he saw me. “Boss,” he shouted. “I brought some help.”
Better late than never. I had no idea how they found us. I didn’t care. I was happy to see the runt still alive.
“How―” I started to shout.
The Good Wizard Gosley interrupted me by pointing his wand at one of the demons. A bolt of red energy flew from the wood and stuck the dead beast’s head. It exploded in a mess of blood and bone. He then pointed at the one Liz had killed and did the same thing. The greasy bacon smell of burnt demon filled the cavern.
“Never fear,” Gosley said in his deep, melodious voice. “I have slain the danger and saved the city. Again.”
All of us, including the surviving elves, stared up at him with mouths agape.
“No need to thank me,” he continued, his voice reaching across the room despite his not actually yelling. “It’s my city. Saving it is what I do.”
“Now you see why I hate him so much?” Siralanna said. She had walked up beside me. She was as beaten and dirty as the rest of us. Her hands had been tied behind her with a dark cloth. Cloth the same color as the fabric missing from Quinitas’ pants leg.
I still think she overreacted, although I gained a fair understanding of what had driven her to such a desperate measure.
I looked toward the wall Insano had been launched into by Azrog. It didn’t surprise me to see he was missing. He was a cat in human form, with at least six lives left.
In the end, Gosley took all the credit. The official story, leaked to the city’s broadsheets, had me hired by the Great Wizard to investigate suspicious activity observed in Clan Greenstreet. He wanted an outsider because he didn’t expect elves to turn rat on another Clan. The Clans might be rivals for business, but elven insularity outweighed merchant interests.
Acting on my solid information, the Great Wizard deduced the nefarious plan of one Siralanna Greenstreet. Waiting until the demon summoning occurred so he would have them in physical form, the Great Wizard swooped in with his cadre of talented apprentices and slew the demons with ease. After all, it was well known that no demon--not even two demons--were a match for the infinite might of the Great Wizard Gosley.
I didn’t care if he took the credit. Especially as he showered me with plenty of gold and grog to keep me quiet. Liz didn’t care either. The demons’ demise was all that concerned her. She had gotten revenge for her family. She didn’t need a city’s gratitude or acknowledgment. The Great Wizard Gosley also threw plenty of gold her way. Enough that she even said she might work with me again, but not too soon. Her arm and leg healed in time, and the Great Wizard Gosley used magic to replace her missing teeth.
Over drinks and dinner one night we filled in some of the gaps. Crizlyk obviously hadn’t been killed in the warehouse brawl. He had slipped out a crack in the wall. Realizing we needed help, he had gone to seek the Great Wizard Gosley’s aid. His minions had rudely turned him away until he mentioned the Demon Twins. Then he was escorted to the wizard, who cast a truth-telling spell on him and got the whole story.
“I would have been there sooner,” Crizlyk told us, “but they had me sitting in the foyer for hours while the wizard handled other business.”
“To bureaucracy,” I toasted, my voice slurred. My dinner consisted of more grog than actual food.
I questioned Liz about the fury that had overcome her with the demons, but she told me she honestly remembered nothing about it. The last she recalled was turning into the small lizard and fleeing. The next thing was two dead demons and a lot of pain.
“I suspect there’s something in my people’s past I should study up on,” she said. “There may be a good reason demons fear us.”
“Well, here’s to two less of the bastards in the world,” I offered. I was willing to toast everything. Liz was more than happy to join me.
We finished that evening walking down the road and singing war songs while an embarrassed Crizlyk followed.
Things quickly returned to normal. Which is to say, I spent most of the money the Great Wizard gave me on booze. I did get some new furniture for the office and even managed to set aside enough to provide Criz with a small salary for a year.
Despite not getting the full credit, being associated with the Great Wizard did wonderful things for my business. My caseload jumped from one case every three months to one every two months. It was almost more than I could stand.
I don’t see much of Klaus or Quinitas. The devastation to GOBLET was tough for Klaus to overcome, but the elf stuck to his word and took the hob’s grievances to the Great Wizard Gosley. I don’t know what came of it. I certainly haven’t noticed any discernible improvements. I suspect nothing will change. It’s not in the nature of people in power to give their inferiors a chance to become equal.
So life moved along. I solved cases, drank my grog, got on Crizlyk’s nerves. Crizlyk tried to keep me sober, failed, and got on my nerves. Things were the way we liked them.
However, once you play in circles of power, things never stay normal for long.
But that’s a story for another time.
THE END
Acknowledgments
I want to acknowledge the Brinkers Writers' Group, who helped shaped the story and point out the problems. Hopefully I fixed most of them. And as always, I have to acknowledge Tony, who supports me in all my crazy endeavors.
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About the Author
Paul Barrett has lived a varied life full of excitement and adventure. Not really, but it sounds good as an opening line.
Paul’s multiple careers have included: rock and roll roadie, children’s theater stage manager, television camera
operator, mortgage banker, and support specialist for Microsoft Excel.
This eclectic mix allowed him to go into his true love: motion picture production. He has produced two motion pictures and two documentaries: His film Night Feeders released on DVD in 2007, and Cold Storage was released by Lionsgate in May 2010.
Amidst all this, Paul has worked on his writing, starting with his first short story, about Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, at age 8. Paul has written and produced numerous commercial and industrial video scripts in his tenure with his former creative agency, Indievision.
Paul lives in North Carolina with three cats and his film director/graphic designer husband.
Also by Paul Barrett
Knight Errant - Knights of the Flaming Star Book One
A Whisper of Death - The Necromancer Saga Book One
Copyright © 2017 by Paul Barrett
Cover Design by Natania Barron.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of parody fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
