Crossing Forbidden Lines (Guardian Series Book 2)

by J. W. Baccaro

  Darshun recalled Mirabel telling him of these things the night he first learned he was Nasharin, how their people were found skinned alive or slain by the sword. Worst of all, the mysterious Plague of Death—its origin finally revealed, Abaddon! “I think you destroyed them because of fear,” Darshun accused. “Nasharins have always been feared by the Dark. They posed a threat because you knew their powers would one day ascend your own. And now through me? They have.”

  “Fool! I destroyed them because their time on my planet had come. They were inferior creatures as you are inferior. And you will have the same fate as they did.” Abaddon released more of his energy, increasing his strength with every passing moment. An aura of Demon Fire dominated his presence.

  Darshun knew the battle was about to get serious. For up until now, they both had been toying with one another. That ended. Saliva dripped from Darshun's mouth as he felt his opponent's energy swarming, he must dominate him.

  They attacked with swords and fire shot out everywhere the clashing of the burning steel gave off a sound like thunder and it seemed to echo for miles upon end. From the continuous blows Darshun’s hands began to sting where the Demon Lord seemed at ease. To make matters worse, Abaddon drew his second sword and attacked relentlessly, swinging, thrusting and jabbing with speed and power.

  Darshun never faced speed such as this. Tiring quickly, he began to fight sloppy, stumbling his feet, desperately trying to block the frenzy of attacks storming his way.

  Abaddon slashed the side of his face open and then one of his legs, slicing his greave in half and with a mighty swing he clashed one of his swords against Darshun’s, knocking it from his hands. Next, Abaddon swung both his swords at Darshun’s face.

  However, the Nasharin ducked, grabbed a hold of his wrists and tried pushing him back.

  For minutes, they struggled in this stance with Abaddon’s strength overpowering.

  Darshun fiercely crashed a knee into the Demon’s stomach and smashed his forehead against his skull.

  The Demon Lord, shocked and disoriented—stepped away,

  Darshun picked up his sword and charged.

  Coming into focus, Abaddon immediately clasped both his swords against Darshun’s and held the blade still. Then the eyes of the Demon shined and a ball of light having the color citrine formed around them.

  Within this ‘ball’ existed a phenomenal horror.

  It seemed difficult to breathe and even if Darshun wanted to, he couldn’t let go of his sword, all movement seemed sealed. His muscles tensed and his blood seemed to halt its flow while his organs felt like they were boiling. Torturous pain befell him indeed, unlike anything he’d ever experienced, crushing on the outside, burning on the in. With all his Nasharin might, he tried desperately to break free, raising his red flames ever so high, pushing and pushing his back against the burning citrine sphere.

  It began to flutter and just as it seemed he would escape or at least break the field, Abaddon’s eyes became yellow fire, flashed and a force threw Darshun across the lair. He tumbled hard to the ground, rolling and rolling like he’d never stop. The blast felt painful yet he was thankful to be out of that trap, whatever it was. Struggling to get up, he placed two hands on a knee and stood only to find Abaddon standing just a few feet away as if he’d been there the whole time. Startled, he jumped back.

  The Demon charged forward and swung one of his swords slashing it across his chest.

  The Milandrith armor split in half and fell to the ground. Darshun leapt away as far as he could to catch his breath.

  “No one has ever broken that field of mine boy,” Abaddon spoke. “A few moments later your insides would have melted while your outer elements were crushed. Impressive. Be as it may, you have lost much energy and that precious Milandrith armor spared your life, this time. Now there is nothing left you can offer me in a challenge. Reconsider my offer.”

  “Never.”

  “Then you shall die.”

  Darshun picked up his sword, put it away and started to laugh.

  “Fool,” Abaddon snarled. “You mock your own death? Or, is it fear has driven you to a madman?”

  “No Abaddon. It’s just—I did not think I would have to do this; the dormant energy is a sacred thing you know.” He stretched out his arms.

  Abaddon raised an eyebrow, looking unsure of his meaning.

  “But my lust for defeating you burns higher than any fire I have yet to scorch. You're a God among opponents… and I must conquer you; the sleeping energy longs to awaken.”

  “What are you babbling about, Nasharin? Your words lack sense.”

  Darshun grinned most disturbingly, his eyes freakish and bloodshot. “Now you will see why both Darkness and Light fear my race,” he warned his tone low and raspy.

  Chunks of broken stone began to levitate, clouds of dust spun chaotically and a whirlwind of red fire surrounded Darshun—so thick—so dense his enemy could no longer see him. A great and terrible energy began to rise within; his muscles felt like they were being ripped apart. Skin and bones painfully stretched and a sensation of ecstasy caused by a dramatic increase in bodily power—which continued to elevate.

  The inferno whirlwind darkened in color, gradually changing over to blue followed by a thunderous explosion, shaking the lair, throwing Abaddon off his feet.

  At first, it appeared as though Darshun had killed himself, using some type of crazed suicidal tactic.

  But after the smoke cleared, the Demon Lord gazed upon the Nasharin warrior in awe: his hair and eye color became deep sea blue, an aura of blue flames danced over his body. He’d grown taller, leaner and his skin shined sapphire. His essence looked like a warrior of stone fashioned and polished in a long heated fire, now transformed, ready to unleash.

  What is this? I have never felt a power like this from a mere mortal.

  Sensing his thoughts Darshun replied, “I have ascended my natural element.” His deep-toned voice was clear, confident and fearless. “Your time on this planet ends today.”

  “Fool. I am immortal.” Interested, yet unafraid, Abaddon charged forward, sword held high and swung at his head.

  Darshun side-stepped, punched him in the cheekbone with one hand, pounded his ribs with the other, then jumped up and kicked him in his chest.

  The force threw the Demon across the lair like a puppet. With black blood oozing from his mouth and a swollen ribcage he struggled to his feet, suddenly noticing Darshun standing only inches in front of him.

  “Wh—what—how?” Abaddon wondered, startled and confused.

  Darshun smirked.

  Becoming annoyed, Abaddon threw a punch only to have Darshun catch it. He threw another and Darshun caught that one as well, applying such great pressure to his hands they began to crush. Abaddon screamed hideously and with all his strength tried to push Darshun back but could not. Then, the mighty Nasharin crashed his knee into the Demon’s stomach knocking the breath out of him, grabbed his neck with one hand and tail with the other, lifted him over his head and tossed Abaddon across the lair yet again.

  Darshun stood where he was, allowing his opponent the chance to rise. “Perhaps I should slow my attacks down?” he asked mockingly.

  “How—dare—you make light of me. HOW DARE YOU!” Abaddon roared so loud it sounded like thunder and his demon fire burned around his presence higher and darker than ever. He drew out both swords and charged like a mad beast. Viciously, he swung from every angle.

  Darshun dodged each and every attack then jumped onto the stairway leading down to the fourth level, the first section of the Demon Lord’s lair. “Is that what you call fast?” he quipped, his smile never ceasing to leave.

  Abaddon withdrew his swords and clenched his fists, causing what appeared to be black lightning streaking around them. He cupped his left fist into the palm of his other hand and brought them down smashing the stairway and it split from top to bottom.

  Darshun fell with the rubble. A thick fog of stone and dust filled the ai
r.

  Abaddon laughed. “Arrogant boy. That should slow him down.”

  Inexplicably, two screaming Fire Stars shot up through the dust and blew apart the pillars that held up the fifth level and it collapsed to the ground with a great crashing.

  As for Abaddon, he’d quickly released a type of energy shield that kept him afloat, but slowly descending. He stretched his arms lengthwise and the rubble below swept up against the sides of the lair, clearing a path to land. When setting foot on the ground he found Darshun already standing across from him, no more than ten feet—waiting.

  “Your existence is at its final stage,” the sapphire-skinned Nasharin spoke, tossing aside his deep-sea blue hair, revealing a face of confidence.

  Again with the mockeries! Abaddon thought. “No mortal speaks to me like this.” His eyes shined and his aura rose so much all that could be seen was an essence of fire.

  Darshun sensed he concentrated all of his energy into one specific thing, one mighty attack. The ground shook, the fire diminished and without warning Abaddon charged forward, admittedly reaching Darshun quicker than expected, crashing his face with a glowing fist. Normally, this attack would have taken his head off, but the blow only jerked Darshun back slightly. A second later, Darshun turned, glaring down his opponent his face unscratched and undamaged.

  Stepping away, Abaddon shouted, “What are you?”

  “I am the Nasharin who will destroy you,” he answered, shooting a stream of blue flame from his palm, engulfing Abaddon, the force blowing him away a good twenty feet.

  Swift-like, the Demon Lord cast a type of distinguishing spell, materializing a shadow-like cloak that smothered the blue flames. Though his upper garments became ash and his skin partially singed, the Demon still remained very much alive. “I will not stand for this any longer,” Abaddon vowed. Motioning both hands in repetitive fashion, he formed a deadly sphere of black energy with flashy purple streaks circling it. An attack he’d already used except this one was ten times more powerful. He cast the sphere.

  Darshun easily dodged it. The attack struck the wall and another portion of the lair fell to rubble.

  Abaddon reformed the scattered energy and fired yet again, but still could not land a hit. Darshun seemed supremely fast. Losing patience, he began forming multiple spheres, firing one after the other, wherever Darshun stood.

  After every dodge, the powerful Nasharin taunted him all the more, “I am here,” he would say. “No over here. Here I am.”

  “Accursed one!” Abaddon roared.

  Much of the lair looked destroyed, so Abaddon ceased firing.

  Darshun now stood directly in front of him, about twenty feet away. “Have you finished?”

  Abaddon began to speak in the demonic tongue and the Wizard Crystals along with the Dark Crystal—which had been buried under rubble from the fall of the fifth level—came bursting out from under the debris and levitated over to him.

  The Crystals! What is he doing?

  Abaddon knelt down and scraped his black fingernails along the ground drawing two lines parallel to one another, each leading toward Darshun. Then, he put one hand on the Dark Crystal and the other on the Fire. They blazed with black and red flames, unaffecting his hands and the lines he’d drawn began to spread past Darshun on their own, splitting the ground.

  Two enormous walls of black and red fire sprung up in a menacing blaze and surrounded Darshun from both sides. Within them were agonized human-like faces, each face having no neck, shoulder or body or even arms, only blistering hands clawing at the flames as if trying to get out.“What is this madness?” Darshun looked to and fro.

  “These walls of flames are a fusion of holy and unholy fire, Light and Dark magic. The images you see are unfortunate souls embedded within my Dark Crystal. Though I cannot use the powers of the Wizard Crystals against you at this moment, I can still use them to my advantage. No matter how strong you’ve become Nasharin, if you try to go through these flames you will be disintegrated.”

  This—cannot be possible! Although, Darshun knew he spoke the truth. The flames were the most powerful he’d ever felt. He now understood Olchemy’s words on how dangerous the crystals can become if manipulated by the Dark. But what did this mean Abaddon only having partial control over them, at least these three? Were they truly corrupted? If so—hope hung by a mere thread—the feeling exciting.

  “There is nowhere to run. This is your end.” Abaddon created another sphere except this one looked more like one of Darshun’s Fire Stars, only bigger ranging six or seven feet in diameter covering most of the space between the walls of inferno. “Let see you dodge this,” he cheered and fired.

  His attack overshadowed Darshun and then hit him, following a great explosion. Rocks and debris flew everywhere and the walls of flame went out like a candle. Gradually, the madness calmed and all became quite. Smoke cleared and moonlight shone in—for the destruction had blown out the castle wall, separating the inside from the out. There seemed no sign of Darshun. “Conceited little pest!” Abaddon gestured with a laugh.

  “That was a close one…Phew!” spoke a voice from behind.

  Abaddon turned around while disbelieving his eyes, for there Darshun stood, partly in shadow and partly in moonlight, so only half his figure shown.

  “I hardly had time to get out of the way,” he teased. “Yeah, you almost got me, but it's amazing how one can maneuver when desperate. Heh, I surprise myself.”

  “It—cannot be so,” Abaddon muttered while unsheathing his sword.

  Amazingly, Darshun's haughty gaze darkened to what some might call wicked—evil. He raised his energy, a dark blue inferno surrounding his presence and pulled out his sword blazing with terrible blue flames, the power incredible. “Now it’s my turn,” he spoke deeply, preparing to bring judgment. Charging forward, he clashed his weapon against Abaddon’s, knocking the Demon back a few paces then viciously attacked again.

  Swords of fire repetitively clashed against one another like an all-out war with energies reaching levels not seen or felt in thousands of years.

  Abaddon never faced such an opponent as this and seemed to grow weary and short of breath. Drawing now his second sword, he desperately tried to block all of Darshun’s attacks but felt himself slipping.

  Wielding a hard blow, Darshun knocked a sword from his grip then swung back and cut off the hand that held the other sword. Then, using the full extent of his weight, Darshun kicked him under his chin, sending Abaddon crashing into one of the hideous graven images. The statue shattered to pieces, collapsing onto him. Darshun stepped away from the rubble and waited for his opponent to arise.

  Moments later, a hand sprung from the debris and up came the Demon Lord, pebbles and stones falling off to the sides. Gasping for air, he held his bloody wrist which now seemed to be missing a hand. “Amazing,” Abaddon gasped, looking upon Darshun in a new light. “Truly amazing. I underestimated you. It is clear you are the victor. I, as you see me, have been defeated. So I ask one final time, join me? I promise you will have whatever you desire. For no one shall touch you. Not even the High Wizard Levieth.”

  “Join for what cause? I have you beaten. Interestingly, the Light warned me about you, claimed you were the most dangerous creature to ever step foot on earth. That might have been true in past times. But a new age is here, a new warrior risen, a being of unmatched power that being—me. Your time is over with, finished. The next duel we engage in…shall be your last.”

  “No, unfortunately for you, the Light spoke correctly. You should have heeded its warning. Nasharin—Nasharin, who still does not understand the depths of my power, how easier death would’ve been had you not forced me to do this.”

  Admittedly, his sudden difference in tone gave Darshun the creeps. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t fall for some mind trick. “What are you talking about? You’ve unleashed everything you have against me. In fact, you’re not even a challenge in my Ascension. Is this what Demons do before death, become delusional? H
a! I bet it is.”

  “I’m now going to show you what no mortal has ever seen.” He stretched forth his arms and sang an eerie melody that must have possessed the blackest notes known only to the Underworld.

  His freaky grin sent chills down Darshun’s spine. The melody became a sickening sound echoing out. In fact, he wondered how music could ever sound so evil. The Dark Crystal levitated over to him and a thick fog began to drift from it. There were frightening screams of despair, souls perhaps, crying out from an abyss echoing back and forth in the lair, reminding Darshun of the agonized faces he saw within the walls of flames.

  A great black fire spawned where Abaddon stood, swallowing up his presence. Every square inch of the lair seemed to tremble and one by one the graven images exploded, sending debris in all directions.

  Darshun covered his face.

  Fog now spread throughout the entire surroundings and in the gray mist, two eyes of blackened flames appeared accompanied by a presence of evil—so great Darshun wondered if another enemy had come.

  With as quick as it ascended, the fog drifted back into the Dark Crystal revealing the creature with the blackened flamed eyes—Abaddon, his wounds healed and body taking on a different appearance. He’d grown at least two feet taller with his body structure becoming massive. There were six large horns upon his head—one on each side of his chin curving down, one coming out of each temple and one on either side of his forehead curving upward. He wore no garments, instead his body seemed to be covered in black scales and round plated armor-like shields, especially along his chest and torso. A solitary colossal-sized spike with a daggered edge rose out from the shoulders, elbows and knees. While smaller spikes circled his wrists and forearms looking as if he were wearing gauntlets. His eyes were dark with crimson pupils and a black demonic fire with a tint of white burned around his presence. Though his tail seemed somehow removed, in replacement two large wings sprung out of his back, extending about six feet.

  The site of him was frightening; almost like—an Angel of pure evil—one of the Fallen, perhaps.