The Ever Fiend (Talon Stormbringer Book 1)

by Randy Ellefson

  “It is here,” the sorelia said, lorenia lines blazing anew as he pointed.

  Beyond Jenar and across the shimmering waters, a cowled, black-robed figure floated toward them, no feet or hands visible. Within the hood lay only darkness that seemed to pull any light inward as if to devour it. At its approach, a chorus of terrified shrieks erupted from a horde of invisible beings near the pond. Orin cried out in fear. Dal uttered a prayer to Coiryn for strength. Jenar visibly trembled, the swords in both her hands shaking, drawing Talon’s eyes, for only her blades were likely to kill the nightmare before them.

  On reaching the silver water, the Ever Fiend stopped, and no one moved for long, tense moments. Talon stared into the hood and found himself unable to look away until the Fiend leaned down over the water, invisible hands seeming to support itself. The fabric never touched the silver surface while the Ever Fiend drank from the Poison Pond, which hissed and popped as its lips touched the surface.

  After all the sorelia’s warnings not to touch the stuff, Talon hadn’t expected this. Did the silver elixir nourish the Ever Fiend when the liquid could destroy all others, rotting their bodies or soul? As Talon watched, the silhouette of arms began to appear as if the water replenished the foul creature, making it more substantial. The forearms and then hands materialized in black laced with silver, like veins on charred flesh. A white glow lit the inside of the hood so that Talon wasn’t looking forward to the Ever Fiend rising.

  “Why is it doing this?” Talon asked Noren, who stood beside him.

  “I do not know,” came the reply. “I have not seen it before.”

  “You’ve seen nothing drink from the pond?”

  “No. It is death.”

  “How do you know if you’ve never seen it happen?”

  “A fair question, but that is usually what’s reported on Llurien.”

  “Usually?”

  “Yes. A few have gone mad instead, mostly magic-users, and some have disappeared shortly after.”

  “Gone where?”

  “No one knows.”

  When the sickening sizzle stopped, the pond’s surface never moving, the Fiend straightened and raised its head. Talon caught a brief glimpse of a face that seemed human, the skin black, white eyes gleaming intensely, before darkness was again all that filled the hood. In that instant, he recognized an expression of strain and horror, as if the Ever Fiend was no better than the other tortured beings in this cursed land, merely the most powerful of them.

  As everyone stood frozen, wondering what would come next, the Fiend spread both black arms and gestured downward toward the damned pond. Moaning in fear or despair, dozens of creatures emerged from between the nearby trees and from behind hills and boulders. Representing every species and quite a few animals, they ranged from skeletons and undead with rotting flesh and tattered clothes to those that seemed in the prime of their life. Scores of spirits, having lurked here all the while, materialized and flowed between them, their translucent bodies no less horrific. Two startled Talon as they brushed past him from behind, a wave of cold chilling his skin. A handful of ghosts waited on this side of the waters, all the others having been repelled to the far side by Noren’s magic.

  All wore an enthralled expression of subservience as they bent and drank the silver elixir, which coated the lips and chins of those with bodies. They otherwise showed no immediate effect, save for one that fell forward into the water and stopped moving, as if instantly killed. The spirits, by contrast, glowed more brightly, starting at their heads and spreading downward. One rose and shrieked uncontrollably, darting this way and that before rushing madly over a hill and out of sight, its hideous screaming audible for long moments until finally fading away. The Ever Fiend’s laughter erupted from the cowl, darker than the blackness from which it emerged. At the sound, an undead kryll straightened and then fell face first into the Poison Pond, where it stopped moving.

  As one, all of them stopped drinking and rose. Talon braced himself for some sort of assault, though it might take a minute for the horde to reach them. The ghosts nearest them stood with backs turned as if ignoring them, the two closest being just ten strides from a terrified Jenar. He scanned for an advantageous battleground, eyes returning to Jenar’s swords as the only weapons likely to help. Then the Ever Fiend raised its arms once more and spoke a thickly accented line of archaic sounding words.

  Involuntarily, Talon took a step toward the Poison Pond before he strained to resist and stopped moving. Orin strode past him toward the water. Mikolyn and the knight did so more slowly, each sounding agonized as if fighting the movement as the Nyborian did. Only Noren remained still, but Talon saw the blaze of blue light from his lorenia lines and the visible effort on the karelia’s face. Nightwish growled deep and turned to face his master, using both front paws to force Noren to the ground and hold him there. At the water’s edge, Jenar dropped both swords and fell to her knees, hands on the grass, head bowing to the surface.

  “No!” she cried, voice strangled.

  And then her lips touched the silver elixir, the now familiar sizzling sound of someone drinking it reaching Talon’s ears.

  “By the gods,” he said, heart pounding in fear for her. He reached for his dagger, arms easier to control than his feet, which took another step forward. By now, Orin had joined Jenar, whimpering in terror and pleading for mercy but to no avail. He, too, began to drink, but no sooner had he started than his body began to shake violently before falling into the Poison Pond, motionless. Jenar continued to drink beside him.

  Wanting to save Jenar before she met the same fate, Talon surrendered to the compulsion to walk, two quick steps giving him the momentum to hurl a dagger at the Ever Fiend. As it flew, he again stopped his forward progress, which took all his strength. Whether through arrogance or something else, his target made no attempt to dodge. The weapon struck it in the chest but vanished in a burst of flame. The Ever Fiend stood unaffected.

  At the water, the knight dropped to his knees with a clatter of plate mail and leaned over. As he began to drink, Mikolyn joined him. The Ever Fiend’s minions stood vigil in eerie silence.

  “Talon!” Noren called from beneath the mynx, voice strained. “The Chaos Blade. It is our only chance.”

  The Nyborian didn’t respond but eyed the dagger on Jenar’s belt. Getting that close when struggling to control his body seemed unwise, but the sorelia was right. Either that would work or they’d all be dead. Or worse.

  He let himself be pulled forward more quickly, tongue straining for a taste of the elixir like a parched man. One failure of will and he would be fervently drinking. The compulsion strengthened as he neared, the Ever Fiend’s hood turning toward him. Did it enjoy the challenge Talon posed? Did it consider him a strong member for its legions of the damned?

  Talon reached Jenar’s side and began to crouch, aware that he might not get up if either knee struck the ground. The sinister dagger hung within easy reach and he seized it and straightened, the move taking all his leg strength. With a twist of desperation, he wrenched his arm back and then hurled the dagger. The motion caused him to fall to both hands and knees, his head bowing to the dreadful liquid beside Jenar. He strained to lift his head and see the dagger’s flight. Like before, the Ever Fiend didn’t move, apparently unaware that this blade had advantages over the last. This time, when the blade struck, it sank deep into its heart. Talon heard a gasp from not only the Fiend, but also every other creature on the shore. Then, as one, they shrieked.

  Chapter 5 – A New Talent

  Suddenly freed from the compulsion he had strained against, Talon nearly fell onto his backside in surprise. Across the silvery waters, the Ever Fiend writhed in agony, both black hands clutching at the dagger in its heart. A flash of white light lit the inside of the hood before darkness consumed it and the foul thing fell, head first, into the silver elixir, its upper body in the water. Each of its minions collapsed, as if dead. The ghosts vanished or fled. And Talon’s companions lifte
d themselves up from the Poison Pond.

  Talon grabbed Jenar by the shoulders and turned her to him. Her pupils had gone silver, like the elixir that ran down her chin from her drenched lips, a spot of it on her nose. She stared wide-eyed for a moment before scampering away and then sitting down, gasping. Talon leaned over Orin and ripped a rag from his tunic, then wiped Jenar’s face with it. As he did so, the color of her eyes slowly returned to normal. Behind him, the knight and kryll were spitting, gagging, and cleaning themselves up. The cat had released its protective hold on its master Noren, who now approached them.

  “Everyone come to me,” the sorelia said, “quickly. I need to examine you.”

  “What for?” Jenar croaked, her breathing frantic, her knees pulled to her chest as if hugging them. “We are dead.”

  “Not yet,” he replied. “You’d be face down if you were dead.”

  Taking the hint, Talon pulled Orin from the Poison Pond and turned him over, finding a look of horror on his face. He shoved the corpse into the waters, where it drifted for ten feet. Then several pairs of hands appeared from beneath the surface and pulled the body under, startling the onlookers.

  “We should’ve decapitated him first,” observed Noren, eyes scrutinizing Jenar. He seemed satisfied.

  Unnerved and outraged by the suggestion, the knight spat silver into the grass. “What in Coiryn’s name for? To desecrate the dead?”

  Unmoved by the criticism, Noren replied, “To keep him dead, unless you’re keen on meeting him again, maybe with supernatural powers that you will not be able to overcome.”

  Talon frowned. “Enough with speculation. We have what we came for. Back to Llurien, now.”

  The sorelia shook his head and turned from examining the knight’s face and eyes. “If the Ever Fiend is truly dead, we must know. And it appears that killing him has killed all those under his control. This is revolutionary news, for the Ever Pathway may be safer than ever before. And you, Talon Stormbringer, will be famous across Llurien for having destroyed the dreaded Ever Fiend.”

  The Nyborian snorted. “I care nothing for fame, just my life. Mikolyn still needs help.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true,” the kryll admitted. The others turned to see that the ghastly wound in his side had turned silver, all signs of the blackened skin and frost gone.

  “That looks worse, not better,” Talon remarked, alarmed.

  “Perhaps, but it doesn’t hurt as before, or at all. I feel good, in fact.”

  Jenar nodded slowly, seeming much calmer, almost casual as she sat crossed legged now. “So do I. How can that be?” she asked Noren.

  “I do not know,” he admitted, “but on our return to Llurien, you can be examined. What of you, knight?”

  Dal hesitated. “I feel fine but somehow sick inside all the same.”

  “Well enough to continue?”

  The knight only frowned and Noren took it for acquiescence. Taking his sack of weapons, he started skirting the pond’s edge, Nightwish walking beside him. The others looked to Talon and he reluctantly nodded. They still needed the karelia and examining the Fiend wouldn’t take long. As he watched Jenar retrieve her swords, he saw the wisdom in doing something distasteful—he unsheathed his kryllan sword and quickly dipped it into the Poison Pond before following, the silver liquid dripping off its downward pointing tip as he walked. The knight and kryll exchanged a look and did the same with their sword and staff, respectively. Now they were armed for battle, should it come.

  Talon kept alert as they approached the field of apparently dead-again minions. The spirits were still out there, though going by the diminished glow of lorenia lines on Noren’s face, they might’ve been long gone. Nightwish showed few signs of wariness as he stepped around bodies with the sorelia, a sharply flicking tail revealing his distaste. Talon saw that every corpse had the same wound—a scorched and blackened cavity where a heart was, or in some cases, where it should’ve been. Some bore the distinct mark of a knife blade despite the absence of an actual dagger.

  By silent agreement, the group stopped five paces from the seemingly dead Ever Fiend. Talon glanced at Noren, noticing no change to the lorenia lines. The sorelia met his gaze and nodded, so the Nyborian did what none of the others had the nerve to, though three of them had drunk from the sinister waters. That none of them wanted to go near the stuff again wasn’t lost on him.

  He approached the shrouded figure with sword at the ready, but it didn’t move. To turn it over, he wasn’t sure what to grab, for no limbs were apparent anymore, and he wondered if the cloak was enchanted in some way, but Noren likely would’ve told him if it was. As he hesitated, Nightwish brushed past him, grabbed the robe in his mouth, and pulled the Ever Fiend out to the pond’s edge. Talon scratched the beast’s black and green head a moment before leaning down to flip the carcass over. A sudden growl from the cat was his only warning as two pairs of silver coated hands burst from under the shimmering surface and roughly grabbed the Ever Fiend by the shoulders. With a violent jerk, the arms hauled the remains under the waters.

  “It’s time to leave this cursed place,” Talon said, gray eyes stern.

  “Yes,” said Jenar, her voice sounding hollow to Talon’s ears. She turned and began stepping over the bodies, leading them confidently. “This way.”

  Noren arched an eyebrow at her decisiveness as they followed. Talon kept scanning the bodies for some signs of movement but didn’t see any. Even after they disappeared over a hill, he repeatedly glanced back, having taken rear guard with the knight. They walked in silence for some time, passing fallen bodies here and there as if everyone who had been tied to the Ever Fiend in some way had perished along with it. All bore a wound similar to those found collapsed by the pond.

  Noren remarked that he was eager to return to the Poison Pond in the coming days because all those corpses would soon turn silver in decay. Soil enriched with this matter was called Ever Earth back on Llurien. Wizards used it for spells, but even common folk could plant something in it and achieve an unusual yield, not only in volume, but often in properties as well. It depended on what one planted in the stuff. The Nyborian thought this place was a source of too much that was evil in the world, more so than his childhood fairy tales had led him to believe.

  “I feel unwell,” the knight murmured to Talon, who eyed him. “I cannot place it. My mind is filled with regret.”

  Talon wasn’t given much to introspection at his age. “I’d suggest a strong drink, but you’ve probably just consumed the strongest thing there is.”

  “No sooner had I drank it than this feeling came over me. I am ashamed.”

  Not understanding, Talon replied, “There’s no shame in failing to resist the Ever Fiend’s will.”

  “But you did. That is not what I mean. I am ashamed of my rank, and how I earned it.” He sneered.

  Talon’s eyebrows rose. “You’re a Knight of Coiryn!”

  “I should not be,” Dal admitted. “I have kept the secret for months but now I cannot bear it any longer. Stormbringer, you seem a man of honor and strength.”

  “As do you,” he interrupted, only to hear Dal snort.

  “Bards have even sung of my false deed. The hollowness of it all has grown on me.”

  Talon sensed that the knight was determined to unburden himself. He invoked the goddess of empathy. “I’m no Priest of Darra to absolve you so you can enter Leisiran in death, if that is your worry.”

  “I know. Just hear my confession. You wished to know why I come to this place. I struck a bargain with the wizard. He cast an illusion that allowed me to seem brave as I fought and then chased off jhaikan, who seemingly fled through a Moon Gate to vanish. This happened before the Queen of Talendor so that I appeared to have saved her. For this I was promoted from Knight of the Valend to that of the Sword, and given the honorary Knight of Coiryn title.”

  Talon observed, “And these journeys into the Ever Pathways are the price you pay.”

  “You do not as
k why I did it?”

  “You don’t strike me as a complicated man. It is self-evident.”

  The knight snorted bitterly. “I suppose so. And what am I now? A damned man lost on the Ever Pathways where he likely belongs.”

  “We are not lost or damned.”

  “I am. My shame grows with every accolade, and my honor is gone.”

  Talon did not disagree. “Some men have never had it.”

  The knight’s face darkened. “Is it worse to have lost it?”

  The Nyborian hadn’t given it much thought but replied, “Lost honor can be regained by those who desire it. Those who never had it care nothing for acquiring it.”

  The knight gave him a long look. “Thank you, Talon Stormbringer. You have given me purpose. I will not die dishonored, if given the chance to redeem myself.”

  Talon noted that Dal’s irises were turning silver and suspected that the knight’s opportunities would be few. He seemed a decent man and Talon felt that he deserved a clean death, not whatever now awaited him. If it came to it, Talon would drive a sword straight through his heart rather than let him become one of the wretched denizens of this place. But even that might not put an end to him. Decapitation. That’s what Noren had recommended. So be it.

  The group ran across more bodies, this time a herd of harts. The woodland animals must’ve bounded through an open Ever Gate on their long legs by accident, for Talon couldn’t imagine a scenario where such easily frightened game would pass through one on purpose. Surely no one brought them here as food, for this land corrupted anything that remained in it for too long; there was no telling what effect eating them would have. Every hart had an unexplained wound in its chest.

  “It seems clear,” began Mikolyn, “that by killing the Ever Fiend we have killed everything under his control.”