by Greg Dragon
In The Service of Demons
Knights and Demons - Book 8
Greg Dragon
http://gregdragon.com
Copyright © 2016
Thirsty Bird Productions
This is a book of fiction. Names, characters, and situations are of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to people, places, or crimes is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted without the express written consent of the author.
Chapter One
Martial arts classes came in two varieties. You had the ones with the teachers that were strict, who made the black belt club something rare and hard to attain, and then you had the ones that were practically selling ranks to students. James Knight, a lifelong practitioner, and a military man, was not going to have his daughter reduced to being one of many paychecks for the latter.
As they walked up the school steps, little Alysia held his hand. She looked back at her mother who was snapping a photo of them and then back up at him to see if he was looking at her. When they got to the top, he stopped and knelt in front of her.
“CeeCee, now when you start the exam, I don’t want you to think about me or your mother. You trained hard for this, baby girl. This is all for you. Show your sensei that you’re the best in the class and do it to make yourself proud.”
It was a lot to take in, but it released the pressure, and for the first time that morning, Alysia relaxed. They entered the dojo and her parents took their seats near the wall. She bowed and entered the main area, then aced her black belt exam.
Of all the disciplines, pep talks, and tests that Alysia Knight had gone through, this memory of herself at seven years old was the one that stuck with her. Now she trained with Lenorela, to pull out the innate powers that had been gifted to her from Isobel’s dagger.
Magic was different … it was a more spiritual type of training, and its tests were harder than any martial art that she could remember. Lenorela had shown her the basics, small things that any gifted Yalem warrior would be able to do. The first day consisted of meditation, and when Alysia still couldn’t feel “the fabric of reality,” Lenorela hypnotized her and walked her through the motions.
Alysia was used to learning things quickly. She found the training impossible and irritating, since the magic eluded her. She would stand with her feet apart, and her arms out at different heights, but nothing would come to her. Lenorela would take up the same stance, look over at her, smiling, and then conjure up a ball of fire, a ball of light, or the most impressive of them all, a spinning ball of ice cold water.
“You have to let the field recognize that you are a sister, CeeCee,” she said to her a few days into trying, but the field seemed to want nothing to do with Alysia, and she in turn hated it.
The more frustrated she got, the more she practiced her sword fighting with Euphoria. Lenorela’s yard was convenient for this. The mansion sat on several acres of soft grass, with a scattering of trees and a few rosebushes.
Alysia would set up a wooden man that she built from logs and tree branches and hang targets from the taller trees. She had fashioned herself a wooden practice sword and would use it to go through her daily combinations.
From a high window in the mansion, Lenorela would watch her student revert back to her sword skill whenever the magic would elude her. Many times she thought to step in, but she left Alysia alone. The magic would only come to those who were open to receive it and her human friend had not opened up, even though she assumed that she did.
The more Alysia practiced with Euphoria, the more she thought about its twin, Bliss. She didn’t know Yalem well enough to even begin a search for the fabled sword, but she hoped that in time a clue would present itself.
What can Bliss do? she wondered, thinking of the possibilities. On Earth, Euphoria used to wrap her arms and body in armor similar to what the dragon ring did. It had also given her strength, the ability to fly, and many other gifts, stolen from the greater demons. She imagined that with both swords there would be better protection, but she wondered what it would look like and, more importantly, what she would have to sacrifice for their power.
Euphoria incinerated demons, sending their souls into oblivion. Alysia wondered if Bliss would be more like the Twilight Sword, in that it would absorb the demon’s life force, bring it inside of her, and recover her energy while making her stronger.
That was what was wonderful about the Twilight Sword. Whenever she would fight, she knew that when a demon was slain, she would be healed of all her injuries and would have enough energy to fight even more. With the Twilight Sword, a warrior could take on an entire army, and as long as enemies were dying, that warrior would have all the energy she needed.
But when Lancert, her father, first appeared to her on Earth, he gave her Euphoria after using it to shatter the Twilight Sword. Bliss, being a twin of that blade, could be a dream come true, but Alysia dared not hope. If there was one thing she had learned in Yalem, it was that if something could go wrong it was going to go wrong.
Days passed with her trying to touch the magic and then going back to her sword in frustration. After the second week the routine got old, and she began to worry that her time was running out. Soon, Chaos would grow impatient and demand for her to fulfill her promise. It was a rainy day, and though the cool water droplets should have felt refreshing to Alysia they simply felt heavy.
She decided that she was going to go into town just to see how the people were recovering after the Mee’ir attack. She went inside the mansion to look for Lenorela but had a hard time finding her until she went into the theater room and waited. Lenorela finally showed up and didn’t seem to mind that Alysia was going into town. She postponed her spell-training and urged the young woman to change into something more comfortable.
Alysia removed her fighting robes and donned a white cotton blouse, a decorative brown tunic to go over it, and tight green hose. She pulled on a pair of knee-high leather boots that Lenorela had gifted her and strapped on Euphoria to take with her.
When she was finished, she found herself once again on that perfectly cobbled walkway that ran down to the village. As she passed by the buildings she noticed a change in the people who regarded her as she walked on by.
In the past, their eyes would remind her that she was an alien, and that she didn’t belong in Yalem. Now they regarded her as one of their own, most saying friendly hellos, and others offering her gifts and foodstuffs from their stalls.
It was late afternoon, so Alysia found an inn and went inside. It was an old-style building that reminded her of the saloons in cowboy movies. In her mind’s eye, she could see where the outlaw would stroll through the butterfly doors. The regulars would all turn to face him and he would say something real cool and then stomp over to the bar to order a whiskey.
This inn had no butterfly doors, however, but all the regulars did turn to face Alysia when she stepped inside. She may have hovered her hand over her sword—as if it were a six-shooter—as she glanced at the bartender, who gave her a questioning look. The woman burst out laughing and Alysia wondered what it was that made this portly, orc-looking woman completely lose her cool.
“Wau ah you ‘posed be?” the woman grunted, and Alysia let her hand rest on Euphoria as she stared over at her.
“Huh?” Alysia asked, looking to see if anyone else was laughing. “How does anyone answer a rude question like that? I suppose I say, ‘I’m a human being’ and you counter with ‘wah es dat?’ and I try to explain, and you make a game out of it, laughing. How about you … you know what? Screw this,” she said and spun around to leave the inn.
A tall, slender man
ran up to stop her. “Wait. Hold on a second, warrior. Rosie’s just testing your wit. She doesn’t mean nothing by it. I swear,” he said. “Come, sit with us. We have ale, and bread with cheese. Rosie just brought out the sliced mutton too … I bet you’re hungry. Come on, sit with us. Eat.”
Alysia looked over to the table that he was gesturing towards and saw two men arguing. Off to the side, there was a pretty, spikey-haired woman watching them with an almost-bored expression. They looked interesting enough, and the men reminded her of Jaime and Debdan back when she had first met them.
She nodded at the man and strolled over to take a seat. He slid a mug in front of her and poured a thick yellow liquid from a jug. When he gestured to the pile of foodstuffs in the center of the table, Alysia took him up on it.
The cheese was strange but had the taste and consistency of feta. The meat tasted like corned beef, and the bread was warm and delicious. After making a sandwich and scarfing it down, Alysia tried the liquid and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was honey mead. The people at the table introduced themselves as she ate, and she was taken aback by how accommodating they were.
The man that brought her back was Orwan Vance, a smuggler and wagon driver who drove people back and forth between the towns for a fee. The men fighting were the brothers, Cyrio and Bortex Arl. Cyrio was telling Bortex that Alysia’s sword was magical while the stout demon was arguing back that it was a well-crafted, one-edged sword, but no more magical than the dirk in his shoe. The woman watching them was Amarah Jade.
All three had traveled from a far-off town using Orwan’s service. Since the gate was gone from Wildemont, and the guards were either dead or wounded, they had come in without any interference.
“So, now that you know who we are, I hope you don’t mind me asking where you’re from,” Orwan said to Alysia as he leaned on the table and stared at the cheese. He seemed nervous, and he began to pick up tiny crumbles near the edge and pop them into his mouth.
“I’m not from here. Yalem, I mean,” Alysia said. “I am from another world, reduced to rubble by the hordes of the V’Kosha. Have you all heard of them?” She scanned their faces expectedly, and was not surprised to find them exchanging glances with one another.
“So, you’re a lieutenant for Chaos, then,” Amarah said, and Alysia saw her hand slip below the table.
“That’s what I was at one time, yes,” Alysia said, “but Chaos is a liar, so I came to this town to get away from him.”
Amarah’s hand reappeared on the table and the other three seemed to relax. Alysia took another bite of her sandwich, and then placed her feet up on one of the vacant chairs. They had tested her and she knew it, but while they were no friends of Chaos, she didn’t trust them all the same. They could be Mee’ir agents, trying once again to steal the rings, so Alysia watched them as they made small talk, her hand never roaming far from Euphoria.
“I hear that once you become a part of the Bloody Garot, there is no getting out,” Bortex’s deep voice boomed. “How is it that you are not with Chaos? If you’re not from Yalem, he is the only one that could have brought you here.”
“Chaos had to release me for his own good,” Alysia said. “I wield a sword that could destroy him and he doesn’t want me near. The Garot was my family for a time, this I will admit, but when I learned about their truth, and came by way of this sword, Chaos cut me loose.”
The group exchanged glances once again, and she could tell that they did not believe her. “We’re from here,” Orwan said, “but we are no friends of Chaos. If what you’re saying is true, then we are allies, but we know that you’re not telling us everything—”
“Why should I?” Alysia asked suddenly. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here in this town. I’ve shed blood for these people and they’ve accepted me here. You’re all strangers, asking me a lot of questions as if I have to prove myself to you somehow.”
“Calm down, warrior, we didn’t mean to offend,” Amarah said coolly. “You just looked different, and different normally means Chaos, so we were just making sure that you weren’t one of his.”
“What are you four really doing here? I think that we can cut the act and get down to the real questioning. You saw my sword, you knew its mark, so you invited me over to question me. Amarah there is wearing an Ert weapon as well, and the claymore on your back, Bortex, is similar to the one Lancert carries.”
Bortex looked as if he had swallowed his wine too fast. “Lancert? You know Lancert? Why, he’s my master of arms.”
“You guys are Erts!” Alysia exclaimed, and Amarah quickly shushed her.
“We’re Erts, but it isn’t something that we want the entire town to know,” Amarah said. “Do you know Lenorela?”
Alysia said, “Lenny is my sister, and I can take you to see her. Why all the secrecy with your order? Shouldn’t the town honor the Erts that protect them?”
“No. There’s a chance that Chaos has eyes in this inn, and us going to see Lenorela would only pique his curiosity—which could lead to trouble. Still, it’s good to meet a friend of Lenorela’s, and an ally to the Erts.”
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Alysia said, “what exactly is an Ert? The first one of you guys that I met was dressed in armor from head to toe. He was able to shatter one of Chaos’s prized swords, and travel between the worlds just like Chaos does.”
Orwan spoke up. “We Erts are an order of knights. We’ve been touched by the blade of the one king, Sun Daja, dipped in the pools of Irena, and sworn to pick up arms in order to keep the peace. The Ert that you described is one of the high lords … There’s Ecbert, Lancert, Ubert, and Willert.”
“So you too know my f—I mean, you know Lancert. Tall and dark, refuses to talk, has illegitimate children in faraway worlds …” Alysia mumbled under her breath.
“Lancert is the Lord of Arms, the leader of Sun Daja’s armies. If you were visited by him, it means that you are quite gifted in military affairs. I swear, the more we speak to you, the more interesting you get, Alysia. Tell me, is there anything you need from us? We’ve been asking a lot of questions and you have been very forthcoming.”
Alysia thought about telling them everything, recalling the events of the Earth’s destruction and the meeting with Chaos. She wanted to tell them how her high lord father had planted her there on Earth in preparation for the V’Kosha’s attack. But she felt as if she had said enough already, and that even though they were friendly, one of them could be something else, something deadlier than Chaos.
“Have you all traveled all over?” she asked.
Amarah looked puzzled. “All over Yalem?” she said. “We’ve done a fair bit of traveling, yes.”
“Came across any rare weapons, or fabled stories of swords? I’m looking for one that is the twin to this.” She pulled Euphoria out until the hilt could be seen above the table, then quickly resheathed it once she was confident that they had seen it.
“Guess she wasn’t lying about meeting Lancert,” Cyrio said, and Bortex imitated him with a high-pitched voice. “You big oaf, I don’t sound like that,” he said angrily, and Bortex imitated him again. The two men pulled steel and made to fight, but then a huge meaty fist crashed down on the table, silencing them.
The big barkeep had made her way over to them to refill the wine jug, and they had somehow missed her approach. “No fightin’ in mi house, ya bhasters!” she grumbled, then put her hairy mitt on Bortex’s face and pushed him back, violently. This caused Cyrio to burst out laughing, but this was cut short when the barkeep “accidentally” kneed him in the groin.
Alysia looked around, wide-eyed and in shock. For Erts, this group of warriors seemed more like street fighters than knights. Orwan was unimpressive, and the fighting duo of Cyrio and Bortex was a bit of a comedy act. The only one who seemed knight-like was the stoic Amarah, who had risen to her feet during the entire scuffle and was calmly watching it with her right hand resting on the pommel of h
er broadsword.
Once the wine was full and the chairs back where they belonged, the group went back to silently eating and drinking. “Well, I’ve delayed enough for the afternoon and I need to train, so I must bid you good folks farewell,” Alysia said.
“Gone so soon? But you just got here,” Bortex whined, as he looked at his comrades for some support.
“You wanted to know about a sword, right Alysia?” Amarah said. She was actually smiling, which Alysia thought was odd. “We heard from a man in the town of Lorus that a sword similar to the one you have is in the possession of a mighty lord. This man, I forget his name, had fought in a battle with a mighty general, and he swore up and down that the sword was the only reason why their small army was able to escape.”
“Is Lorus near here?” Alysia asked.
“Well, if you’re willing to join us for a stop or two, Alysia, “Orwan said, “I will happily detour through Lorus on my way to Devan.”
Chapter Two
It had taken a long talk but with much reluctance, Lenorela wished Alysia a safe journey—and return. She had come to the gates to meet the travelers and had brought them dried food from the stores. Apparently Lorus was several days travel by wagon, and Devan would take up to a week for them to reach.
Once they set off on the rocky road, Alysia asked them the obvious question. “How is it that we can move around to different worlds using magic, yet here in Yalem, we’re on a wagon being drawn by whatever those creatures are?”
The creatures looked like stallions with hard exoskeletons and six powerful legs. They weren’t tethered to the wagon like a horse would be in Alysia’s world, but wore collars that used a force similar to magnetism to pull the wagon along. They were free to roam around until Orwan blew his whistle, and then they would gallop to the front of the wagon and take off sprinting on their large, padded feet.
Alysia didn’t bother to ask how it was that he got them to obey his commands so easily, but she chalked it up to Ert magic, something that Lenorela would be able to explain. “We could use a local portal to get over to Lorus, I guess,” Orwan said, “but portals here come with a hefty toll. Sure, perhaps a lady like Lenorela could afford to skip around from town to town, but for us, we don’t have valuable possessions so we travel by wagon. Don’t worry, Alysia, we’re good company. Amarah there has a beautiful voice, despite her expression of unspoken threats. Amarah, give us a song, love, something old and sweet for the road.”
