Angel of Darkness Books 1-5

by Mackenzie Morris

  Jaylen dove out of the way of the boy's sword and scurried around behind him, landing another blow to the boy's back. "Left yourself open again."

  "Jaylen: two."

  Liam screamed, more in frustration than pain. "You should be the one to die, paladin. Not me. Your kind killed my family!"

  "What?" Jaylen asked. "Paladins killed your family?"

  "How do you think I ended up here? I've only been here a week!"

  Jaylen blocked Liam's swing with the flat edge of the sword and pushed back. "I had nothing to do with that."

  "I'm from Kervlin, outside of Ilyan. The new paladins in red came and killed my family then sold me! You're one of them, so I'm gonna kill you!" He jumped at Jaylen and swung, but it was parried by Jaylen.

  "I don't know about any red paladins." Jaylen dropped low and sent the wood into the boy's side as hard as he could.

  Liam cried out as he dropped to his knees and tears slid down his cheeks. "You paladins are all the same. You get everythin' handed to you and everyone loves you."

  "If everyone loved me, would I be a slave here just like you?"

  "Jaylen: three. You are the winner." Carvael roughly took their swords away and pushed Jaylen into line with the other boys.

  Trevor wrapped his arms around Jaylen. "Good fighting. I knew you had it in you."

  He watched the boy who was tied up with the other losers from the previous events. "Yeah."

  "What's wrong? You won. Be happy! I'll be surprised if you aren't in first place for this event."

  "I . . . you're right. If I survive this day, I will tell you more later."

  Chapter 6

  Jaylen was lined up along with nine other slave boys facing a row of painted targets on hay bales. This was the event he had been dreading more than the others. How did anyone actually expect him to be able to do this? It would be an instant failure. Had he made it this far only to fail because he didn't have two hands? It was unfathomably unfair. But Jaylen had long ago learned that not everything was fair.

  Carvael made his way down the line, handing each of the boys a shortbow and a quiver of ten arrows. "You will fire your arrows at will. The winner will be the slave who gets the most arrows on or nearest the center of the target. If you-"

  The sound of arrows flying through the air interrupted the archangel's speech. Everyone looked over to see the target on the end filled with arrows, all ten of them tightly grouped on the middle dot. The brown-haired boy with the bright green eyes bowed then tossed his bow down into the dirt before going over to sit alone. He leaned back on his arms and grinned mischievously. Liam.

  Carvael sighed in frustration. "Liam Ulverin. One hundred points. A perfect score. For the rest of you, please wait until I give the clear to fire. This is the final event, so do your best. You may begin."

  Jaylen took the shortbow in his hand and held up his left arm. How was he supposed to shoot this thing? Even when he had both of his hands, he was no good with a bow. He glanced over at Trevor for some hint or help, but Trevor only shrugged his shoulders. If he didn't have fingers or a left hand, he would have to use something else . . .

  Then it dawned on him. Toes were like fingers, sort of. Jaylen sat down on the ground and unlaced his boots. He tossed them out into the wheat field then gripped the bow between the toes of his left foot. This elicited all manner of laughter from the other boys and the audience alike. They could laugh, but none of them could say that Jaylen wasn't determined. He nocked an arrow then pulled the string back the best he could. His leg was trembling as the muscles strained in ways they hadn't been used before. As he focused on the red dot in the middle of the target, Jaylen aimed and let the arrow fly.

  Miss. The crowds filled with giggling.

  Jaylen took a deep breath and secured another arrow. Focus. The same sort of battle focus he had with a sword should apply with this as well. All he had to do was pay attention to the target, not lose sight of his goal. Hit the target in the vulnerable area. Hit the middle. This time, he slowed his breathing and steadied his muscles before releasing the arrow.

  The crowd cheered. Trevor raised an eyebrow as he looked over at Jaylen and gave him a thumbs-up. The arrow missed the center dot by three inches, but hit the target.

  Even Jaylen was surprised. But even his determination wouldn't be enough. By the time his quiver was empty and his leg was aching, he was staring at a total of ten points on the target. It was the lowest of anyone there. At least he tried his best.

  Carvael had the guards herd the boys into a group before he announced the scores of the day. "The slave games have now come to an end. We have one clear winner who has been proficient in all events, prevailing over the competition to have an average score higher than anyone. That slave is Trevor Treylan. Congratulations. You may return to your work in the merchant's guild with honor and you are now permitted to grow a beard as a symbol of your strength and valor."

  Trevor bowed respectfully as the crowds cheered.

  "Now for our losers, the boys who will be exiled to their deaths in the Crypt. Avery Silas, Cullen Falbrough, Liam Ulverin, and Xair Korvin."

  The guards pushed the losers into the middle of the field. Jaylen was finally able to let out the breath he had been holding and stop squeezing Trevor's hand. He made it. He did well enough to survive. His attention was quickly brought back to the present as he was forced to see the four boys who would be exiled. The brown-haired archer who he had fought in the sword fighting match was one of them. But that didn't make sense. Liam had won the street race and the archery competition. Why was he with the losers?

  Carvael moved behind the four boys. "As I put my hand over the head of a boy, you cheer if you want to save him. The one who gets the most applause will be saved from the Crypt."

  The crowds were silent until Carvael reached the last boy, a very young exotic-looking boy with overly large purple eyes and very dark skin that had been tattooed with various white rune-like symbols. He couldn't have been more than six years old. Everyone began to chant. "Save him! Save him!"

  Carvael pushed the young boy forward. "Will you use your one save for Xair?"

  The audience overwhelmingly voiced their approval.

  Trevor leaned close and whispered into Jaylen's ear. "Uh oh."

  "What?"

  "They're using their save."

  "So? That's good, isn't it?" Jaylen asked.

  "There will be four boys sent to the Crypt today, not matter what. He will be replaced by the next lowest scorer. That could be you."

  "But I won the sword fighting."

  "And lost the wrestling and archery. I heard from some of the contestants from past years that Carvael has his own scoring system that no one can figure out."

  "What is that boy?" Jaylen asked as he watched Xair. "His skin is so dark. Why does he have white hair?"

  "You don't know?" Trevor asked. "He is Ka'taylin, from the druidic tribes at the bottom of the world. It's the subcontinent, Ka'tayl, that no one talks about because it was rumored to be destroyed by Sola a long time ago. Don't worry about him. I'm worried about who will be his replacement. Oh, Jaylen. I hope it's not you. I hope it's not-"

  "Jaylen Corrifus will take his place." Carvael called out.

  Jaylen felt the blood drain from his face and his legs buckled under him until he was held up solely by Trevor. The spectators were silent as the young boy ran off to his Master sobbing. Jaylen clung to Trevor. "No! Don't let them take me, Trevor. Don't let them. You can fight them!"

  The guards grabbed Jaylen's arms and pried him away from Trevor. "Don't resist. It's the Crypt for you."

  Panic, dread, frustration, apprehension, and pure terror struck through Jaylen like a bolt of lightning. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead and his hand began trembling as the guards dragged him to the other boys who were fated to die in the forest. He couldn't go down without a fight. "Trevor! Trevor, help me!"

  Trevor tried to run after him, but was stopped by guards who held him there. "I
can't. I can't help you, Jaylen. It's okay. If I find a way back to Ilyan, I will tell everyone that you died an honorable death. You're a good man, Corrifus. Thank you. Thank you for everything."

  "Wait!" A woman screamed and ran onto the field. "Let him go. You can't take him."

  Jaylen opened his eyes to see Reya on her knees in front of Carvael, begging him for mercy.

  She grabbed the archangel's white robe and cried. "Don't do this. Please. Have mercy. Jaylen has already been through so much." Reya was thrown back onto the dirt as Carvael slapped her across the face.

  "No one stands in my way." Carvael's eyes were burning with anger. "It's time for the losing slaves to leave. Take them to the Crypt."

  Xair slowly stepped into the path of the guards and stared blankly at them. "No."

  "Out of the way, boy. You don't want to make us send you into the Crypt as well."

  The boy's shoulder-length white hair rustled in the breeze as he held out a rune-covered hand. "No."

  "Is that all you can say, boy? Get out of the way!"

  "No." Xair placed his hands over his eyes and let out a high-pitched hum that was somewhere between a whistle and a shriek. The air in the field became electrified and alive with some kind of unknown power. Then the flutter of thousands of tiny wings enveloped everything. Tiny black butterflies with lace wings rained down from the sky, emitting the same shrieking sound that Xair had made.

  Carvael spread his gold wings high and drew his golden sword from his hip. "Dyvaes! Hide the children from the demons!"

  "What has he done?" Someone yelled from behind. "Carvael, save us!"

  Before Carvael could engage the demonic butterflies, everyone stopped dead in their tracks. Jaylen, still held by the guards, gasped as he gawked at the sky. The sun was fading. He watched it as the other people screamed and ran in all directions to escape the Dyvaes. For some reason, Jaylen was not afraid. His focus was on the glowing orb in the sky that slowly died until it vanished, leaving nothing but a starry sky in its place. It was gone. The sun was completely gone like it had been in the Northern Continent. Where did it go this time?

  "Run." Jaylen was thrown forward as the guards drew their swords. "Run into the forest or we kill you."

  He didn't need to be told twice. Turning away from the darkness and the chaotic scene of screaming and demonic butterflies, Jaylen dashed across the wheat field as fast as his weak legs could take him. His eyes had not had a chance to adjust to the sudden night, so he was afraid of tripping over something that he couldn't see. He could hear the footsteps of the guards chasing him with their swords at the ready to cut him down until he leapt over the dry creek and fell headfirst through the first thick branches and bushes of the Crypt.

  * * *

  A pounding headache was the first thing Jaylen felt as he slowly came back out of his unconsciousness in the darkness. His chest ached and his lungs burned as he drew a breath. Spitting out dirt and leaves, Jaylen sat up to examine the world around him. Where was he? Walls of dirt surrounded him as more dead leaves fell down around him. Ten feet above him, he could see the black branches of the trees below the twinkling stars. He was in some sort of pit or trap. So this was the Crypt.

  Something liquid dripped down his cheek. When he touched it, his fingers became red and sticky. A deep gash spread from below his right eye to his jaw. There was nothing he could do about it down here in this pit. Just as he resigned to being trapped somewhere against his will for what would be definitely not be the first time, he heard leaves and sticks being crunched on the forest floor above.

  A boy with red hair grinned above him. "Well, well, well . . . looks like we caught another one, boys."

  A familiar face accented by those bright green eyes peered over the edge. Liam. "Leave him. He gets to die down there like the clergy dog he is."

  One of the other boys began to protest. "But Leader-"

  "Do you think I care what Leader thinks about this? Jaylen is a threat. Hope you like starvin' to death!"

  Jaylen rolled his eyes. Why did everyone want him to starve to death? What was with this country?

  "No." The boys all looked up as a thin dark face with purple eyes looked over the side of the pit. "Jaylen."

  Xair. Jaylen stood up and reached up towards them. "Please don't leave me here. I don't know what you just did back there, Xair, but I would greatly appreciate it if you could save me from this pit."

  "Number."

  "What?" Jaylen asked, extremely confused.

  "Say a number between one and six."

  "Uh . . . four."

  Xair took something out of a pouch on his belt then rolled it on the ground. "Three. You lose."

  "Hey!"

  "This is your one pass, Corrifus. Get him out." Xair backed away from the edge. "Don't make me call the Dyvaes again."

  "Yes, sir." The other boys all reached down and grabbed onto Jaylen then lifted him up out of the pit.

  A tall boy with a curly mustache in a leather coat stepped out of the trees then up to Jaylen and stood over him with one leg on either side of him. He grabbed the front Jaylen's short pants by the waist and pulled on them. "Do I need to establish dominance here, or do you acknowledge my authority as Leader?"

  Jaylen was in no state to quarrel or question anyone who claimed to be Leader of anything. "Whatever you want."

  The boy laughed. "Good. You will call me Leader. Now get up and crawl to camp. Only members who have proved themselves can walk. You are an animal."

  "My hand . . ."

  "I don't care if you have two hands or not. You will crawl. Xair, follow him and make sure he crawls the entire way."

  Xair scooped up a handful of leaves and sniffed them. "Four hours until freezing. Frost will set in tonight. Too far to get to camp."

  "Then Jaylen will crawl through the ice. You can leave if you want, Xair. I won't try to stop you. You are scary. But our paladin friend here isn't. It's up to you."

  Xair rubbed Jaylen's blond bangs like he was petting a dog. "I will stay. I will ensure that Jaylen earns his place."

  "Good." Leader whistled through his fingers and four horses emerged from the bushes. He mounted his horse and turned to look at Jaylen one last time. "Get crawling, paladin. We still have so much fun waiting for you at camp. We wouldn't want you to freeze before we hear you scream."

  Jaylen watched them ride off until he was left alone with Xair.

  The boy nudged Jaylen's side with his boot. "Crawl."

  "Are you serious? No one's going to know."

  "I will know. The Arcanas will know. Crawl."

  "Arcanas?"

  "Crawl."

  Jaylen reluctantly got on his knees and his hand. "This is going to be difficult. Ouch!" He jumped as Xair slapped his buttocks hard. "What was that?"

  "Crawl. We will talk more once we reach camp. The temperature is dropping. We need fire for warmth. Crawl fast."

  Jaylen started the painful and awkward process of inching along on his knees and one hand. "You're very articulate for a six-year-old."

  "Does my young appearance bother you? I will change."

  Jaylen felt a cold breeze then looked to his side to see Xair with the same dark skin, tattoos, and white hair, only taller and looking approximately his age. "You aged."

  His voice was properly deepened as well, as if he had been sixteen all along. "You didn't."

  "What's going on? What are you?"

  "I am Xair. Does this form please you more?" Xair asked.

  "It's certainly easier to be angry at you for helping them."

  "Good. Then I will remain in this form. We may need to fight in the near future. It is much easier in this older body."

  Jaylen crawled over a fallen tree with moderate difficulty. "What are you? A demon? Some demons can change their forms."

  "I am no demon. I am Ka'taylin, a man from Ka'tayl. I am a journeyman druidic arcanist conjurer."

  "Is that a long way to say that you called down demons?"

  "D
id I?" Xair asked.

  "Yes. Dyvaes. All those evil black butterflies that possess children."

  Xair slapped the back of Jaylen's thigh. "Crawl. Don't talk."

  Jaylen growled as he continued in this humiliating manner as the temperatures began to fall in the dark night. It was agonizingly slow. Xair's constant slaps kept him moving along like some kind of cattle under the lash of its owner. There was only one thing that Jaylen found comfort in. At least he wasn't dead . . . yet.

  Chapter 7

  "We have a problem."

  Zeriel stopped rubbing the smoothing serum on his onyx feathers as Gavin entered his room. "Hey. How do my feathers look? Shiny, huh?"

  "Sure. They're lovely. You're beautiful, very attractive." Gavin jumped onto Zeriel's bed and propped his head up with his hand. "Oviel needs to talk to you once he gets back from Ilyan."

  "Why did he go to Ilyan?"

  "King Talyn wants to speak to Jaylen. Funny thing. Apparently the king doesn't know that his own nephew was sold as a slave."

  Zeriel put the jar of serum away and leaned against the dresser. "It's not that surprising. It happened in Tivareshen on the opposite side of the world."

  "So that little piece of information didn't do it for you, huh? Well, listen to what else I have for you. You'll like this one. Turns out that King Talyn didn't even know that Jaylen had been excommunicated from the church or anything regarding the soul purge exorcism. He didn't know you were Fallen. He didn't know Jaylen was Tainted. He didn't know anything. King Talyn thought that Jaylen was still in active service to the clergy."

  "You're joking."

  "I don't joke about things like that. This all came up when Oviel found a letter with a royal wax seal that was addressed to Jaylen. He opened it and read it. It was like nothing of the past year had happened. It was talking about a royal masquerade that was being thrown and inviting Jaylen to attend."

  Zeriel thought about that for a minute before stepping up to the bed and taking Gavin's chin in his hand. "You have smooth skin."

  Gavin raised his eyebrows as he sat up and stared into Zeriel's eyes. "Uh . . ."

  "Shh." Zeriel pushed the incubus's bright red bangs out of his face. He traced Gavin's lips with his fingertips. "Pink and soft."