by Amy Cross
Copyright 2015 Amy Cross
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.
Kindle edition
Dark Season Books
First published: October 2015
This edition: January 2016
“We've won. The fall of Gothos is complete.”
Far from the other worlds, far from humanity and spiders, Abby Hart finds herself undergoing her greatest test yet. The plains of Jagadoon offer a chance for her to train in preparation for the upcoming battle, but there are great dangers lurking and if the training fails, Abby's life will be lost.
Elsewhere, dark forces are massing, preparing to raise an army that will reignite the most horrific war of all time. Soldiers new and old are standing shoulder to shoulder while their generals plot a course. All that remains is for them to locate their lost homeland, so that their power can increased a thousandfold. At the heart of this struggle, Emilia is about to learn the true nature of her father's plans.
Evolution is the second book in the Demon's Grail series. The story continues in the next book, The 13th Demon.
Evolution
(Demon's Grail book 2)
Prologue
A solitary crow wheeled through the afternoon sky before suddenly changing direction, flashing up toward the clouds and then, quick as a dart, diving again toward the desert landscape far below.
Its beady eyes had already spotted the soldier.
Swooping lower, the crow made a pass of the armor-clad figure and saw that it was of human form, riding a tired and mangy horse. While the horse was bare and exposed to the relentless sun, and looked as if it might drop at any moment, the soldier was wrapped in shawls that kept every inch of its skin protected, while a set of rags covered its face to offer at least a little shield from the dust-storms that regularly passed this way. All that could be made of the soldier's true form was a pair of determined eyes, barely visible through the thick, scratched goggles that covered its face.
Piercing blue eyes, so bright that they gave the bird cause to turn away.
So the crow shot up, making for the heavens before arcing back around to take another look, this time from a safer distance. It had been so long since the crow had seen any other life in the dead-lands, and the situation clearly merited another glance. Once again, its beady eyes focused on the soldier, and this time it noticed a sword in the figure's armor-plated right hand. Cuts and dents reflected a brief flash of sunlight as the crow swooped lower and flew past the soldier, and then the bird looked straight ahead for a moment, spotting the threshold of Jagadoon in the distance and, a little further, the great mountain itself.
Not wishing to get anywhere near the threshold, the crowd wheeled around and flew as fast as it could manage across the headwind, buffeted slightly until it came to rest on the branches of the last tree left in the valley. The bird hopped around and looked toward the soldier, several hundred feet away now and still trotting along slowly on that poor, dying horse. The crow was far too timid to mount an attack, of course, and while it would gladly feast on the soldier or the horse if either dropped dead from exhaustion, for now the bird merely remained on its perch and watched their progress.
It was almost as if the pair were headed straight to Jagadoon, but of course that was impossible. Even the crow, with its tiny brain, knew that no living creature had any business at Jagadoon.
Finally, after several minutes, the crow took flight again, immediately shooting up high and turning a full circle across the cloudless blue sky. Its beady eyes glanced one more time at the passing soldier before the bird changed direction, heading for the distant Ebe river and for the worms that were hopefully to be found in the mud. Still, as it flew away, the crow decided to head back this way in a few days' time, just in case a nice fresh, juicy corpse would be waiting.
Other species were fools. The crow knew that. Other species busied themselves far too much, and did foolish things like riding to Jagadoon. Far better to be a crow, wheeling with careless freedom across the sky.
Part One
Jagadoon
Abby Hart
She swings and strikes, hitting me so hard against the side of my head that I fall back and land awkwardly against the dusty ground. A fraction of a second later she drives her boot down hard against my chest, forcing all the air from my lungs and damn near cracking my ribs.
“Enough!” I gasp, squeezing my eyes tight shut.
She pushes harder. I feel the first rib snapping in my chest.
“Enough!” I shout, with blood in the back of my throat. “Stop!”
For a moment, she keeps her boot in place, pressing down hard, before finally she steps back.
“On your feet,” she says, sounding distinctly unimpressed. “I was barely even getting warmed up. We go again immediately.”
I take a couple of deep, painful breaths before opening my eyes. Oncephalus stands towering above me with the sun behind her head; instead of offering a hand to help me, she turns and trudges away, leaving me to haul myself up. I take a moment to brush dust off my tunic, then I tighten my grip on my simple wooden staff, ignoring the pain from all the splinters, and finally I watch as Oncephalus turns again just a few feet away, facing me, ready to strike.
It must be eight hours since we started this morning. Does she never tire?
“I swear, Abby Hart,” she says with a faint smile, “you're actually getting worse at this.”
“I'm exhausted,” I reply, although I immediately realize I should have kept my mouth shut. The last time I admitted I was even slightly tired, she extended our training session to midnight. “I mean, not exhausted,” I add hastily, “just...” I take another deep breath, but the pain in my chest is excruciating and I can't help thinking it's more than just another broken rib. “What does a punctured lung feel like? I think I might have one of those.”
“Good.” Raising her staff to an attack position, she takes a step toward me.
I instinctively raise my staff too, but she doesn't strike, not yet.
“Your enemy doesn't care if you're injured,” she says firmly. “If your enemy sees that you're hurt, he'll use that against you.”
“I know, but -”
“You must hide your pain.”
“I am!”
She smiles. “No, honey, you're not.”
“I am!” Gritting my teeth, I try to force all thoughts of discomfort from my mind.
She stares at me for a moment, and then she starts laughing.
I use the opportunity to strike, hoping to catch her off-guard, but she blocks my first parry and then forces me back, grunting as she swings her staff around and catches me on the side of the face with a glancing blow. I step back, shocked by how quickly she reacted.
“Someone's coming,” she says suddenly.
“I'm not falling for that again,” I reply firmly, adjusting my grip on the staff as I prepare to strike her.
“No,” she continues, “I mean someone from farther away. I don't expect you to be stupid enough to turn and look, but I'm telling you that there's a soldier on horseback about two days' ride from here. I saw him through the telescope just after dawn, he's probably about at the edge of the valley now, so he just has to ride across the plains before he reaches us. It must be something important, or he'd have waited until the worst of the sun's heat had passed. No fool would ride to Jagadoon in these conditions, not if he had a choice.”
“You won't distract me,” I reply through gritted teeth
.
“I just thought I should inform you that we're going to receive company,” she says as her smile broadens. “I don't know about you, but I'm certainly not expecting anyone.”
“Must be for Absalom.”
“Must be.”
I keep my eyes fixed on her firmly. I struck first during our last three bouts, so it's her turn now. Then again, maybe that's exactly how she wants me to think, so I should strike first again, unless... I guess maybe she thinks I'll think that too, so I should wait. Her eyes seem a little narrower this time, but I'm not sure whether or not that means anything. There should be something in her gaze, or in her way of standing or in the pace of her breaths that tells me what to expect, but so far I haven't found a way to anticipate her moves at all. In fact, sometimes, even though I tell myself I'm just being paranoid, I feel as if she can actually read my mind.
“Not many people come to Jagadoon,” she says after a moment. “Up here on the flattened mountain-top, I'm usually left well alone.”
“Until we showed up,” I point out.
She smiles. “Don't think I wasn't annoyed at first.”
“I know. I could see it in your eyes.”
“I was enjoying my life as a hermit.”
“Sure,” I reply, “but -”
Suddenly I flinch and turn my staff, convinced that she's about to strike, but I realize my mistake when she simply starts laughing.
“Jumpy,” she says finally.
“Can't you just get on with it?” I ask, adjusting my stance.
“On with what?”
“Attacking me.”
“Why would I attack you, Abby?”
“That's what we're here for,” I reply, forcing myself to keep from getting too irritated. After all, when I get irritated I get sloppy, and when I get sloppy I end up flat on my back even faster than usual, with her boot against my chest and dust in my mouth.
“Well,” she says after a moment, “you're the one who wants some training, so I think it's only fair that you attack me. After all, attacking is always preferable to defending.”
“I know that,” I say firmly.
“Although sometimes defending is better.”
“I know that too,” I add, even though I'm starting to think that she's running rings around me.
“So make up your mind, then,” she continues. “Decide what you're going to do, and do it.”
I want to strike her right now, but I know she's goading me. Adjusting my grip on the staff, I take a couple of steps to one side, forcing her to turn so that she's still facing me. This time, I figure I should try to make it so she's the one who's looking toward the sun, although I doubt that'll slow her down much. Even a fraction of a second might be enough, though. I know one thing for certain: I'm not getting worse, I'm getting better, and she only sniped at me a moment ago in an attempt to get me worked up.
“How about now?” she asks
“How about now what?”
“How about now you strike?” she continues, with a theatrical sigh. “Come on, Abby, you're really boring me here! This is dull! There are plenty of approaches you can try with your enemy, you can scare them, you can anger them, you can lull them into a false sense of security, but I really don't think you should try boring them to death.” She rolls her eyes. “Well, not unless you want to try telling more old stories about your father and the other vampires. Those tales could bore anyone into an early grave.”
“Nice try,” I mutter.
“I beg your pardon?”
Taking a deep breath, and still feeling a shaft of pain in my chest, I realize that I need to make a move fast. She's watching me closely, clearly trying to judge when I'll strike, but I'm certain I know how to surprise her this time. All I need to do is make her think that I'm getting annoyed, and then she'll assume I'm losing my sense of discipline. She'll strike, thinking I'm weak, and I'll get her on the counterattack. Then again, maybe that's what she's expecting, in which case...
I've got a better idea.
Damn it, I need to stop over-thinking this.
Still, I do think I have an idea.
“Come on,” I say with an exaggerated moan, the kind of moan I came out with regularly when I first arrived here to train with her several months ago, “can't you get on with it?”
“Abby,” she replies with a faint sigh, “you need to learn to -”
That's when I strike, swinging my staff toward her head but then, as soon as she makes to block, tilting it down and aiming for her knees. She blocks me at the last second, but I was already prepared for that so I use her momentum against her, dragging my staff back slightly and twisting it up while using the lower end to press against her in the hope that I'll slow her just enough to let me get to her head. I shift my body weight subtly and then adjust my grip on the staff, and then I swing straight for her eyes, ready to -
Suddenly she knocks my legs from under me and I drop down onto my knees, and before I can react she slams her right knee into my face and sends me sprawling back down to the ground. A moment later, I feel her pull my staff from my hand, and when I look up at her I see her standing over me with that same grin she always wears after beating me.
“That's not fair!” I shout.
“Fair?” She laughs. “Don't be stupid, Abby.”
“I thought we had to keep hold of our staffs at all times?” I reply. “You said that was one of the rules.”
“And you believed me?”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, I try to turn, only to be held back by a sharp, splitting pain in my chest. I need time to heal.
“So what's that now?” she asks. “Two, maybe three hundred victories to me? And how many times have you got me down, Abby?”
Sighing, I start getting to my feet, only for her to press her boot against my neck, holding me down.
“How many times,” she asks firmly, “have you got me down?”
“None,” I mutter darkly, and she immediately moves her boot away. Rubbing my neck, I sit up and take another pained breath. I know I should spring right back up onto my feet, but I need just half a second to pull myself together.
“There he is,” she says suddenly, stepping past me and walking over to the edge of the plateau. “Do you see him, Abby? Just a pinprick on the horizon, but he's coming.”
Turning, I immediately see what she means. Far away, at the very edge of the plain, there's a figure heading toward us. From that distance, it'll take him at least a day to get here, most likely two, but it's still a little unnerving to realize that soon we'll have company. Ever since we arrived at Jagadoon to ask Oncephalus for help, we've been left alone, and I'm really not sure I like the idea of a stranger showing up.
“How do we know it's not a threat?” I ask, getting to my feet and dusting myself down.
“Here at Jagadoon?” She turns to me with a smile. “Impossible, Abby. There are forces that keep the peace here, and no living creature with even half a brain would dare challenge that status quo.” She turns to look back out toward the horizon. “I'm sure you were right a moment ago. It's probably just a messenger coming to deliver some news to Absalom. He and his friends can be so delightfully quaint sometimes. There'll probably be a scroll sealed with candle wax, all that rubbish.”
“There's not exactly good cellphone coverage out here,” I point out.
“True.” She pauses, before turning and holding my staff up next to hers. “I'm extending your training hours today, on account of that hint of weakness I saw in your eyes.”
“There's no weakness in my eyes,” I tell her, even though my heart is already sinking with the realization that I can never get Oncephalus to change her mind about anything.
“There it is again,” she says, taking a step toward me. “Plus, you're showing your pain. We'll try something a little different, though. I seem to have both your staff and mine, and that's a problem. Not for me, but for you. I suppose this time, you'd better have a go at taking it off me.”
“But h
ow do I -”
“Just give it a try,” she continues, with a smile that means she knows I don't have a chance. “Eventually you're bound to make a breakthrough and at least cause me to sweat a little, I mean...” She pauses, as if she finds the situation embarrassing. “Well, let's just say that you're definitely overdue for a breakthrough. Long, long overdue.”
Sighing, I take half a step back and then I get into the combat position she taught me long ago, all the way back on my very first day. I know it's unlikely to work, but she wants me to give up out of sheer exhaustion and I'm not going to let her have that satisfaction. She's ready for me to strike, but I'm pretty sure she's going to wait once again and make me go first. Last time I hesitated and tried to over-think things, whereas this time I want to catch her by surprise. I keep my eyes fixed on her firmly, trying to empty my mind, waiting for her to blink.
Finally, figuring that I should just go for it, I launch myself at her, reaching to grab my staff even as she swings with the other to crack the side of my face.
Abby Hart
“That looks extremely painful,” Absalom says a few hours later, as we sit on the steps of the Jagadoon temple and watch the sun dipping in the sky. “She split your cheek all the way to the bone and...” He sets his cup of tea down as he leans to take a closer look. “Did she chip some bone out from just below your eye socket?”
“It'll heal,” I mutter, reaching down to dip the wash-cloth in some more warm water. A cloud of blood immediately blossoms in the water between my fingers. I swear, since arriving at Jagadoon I've become sick of the sight of my own blood. “I'll be -”
Letting out a sudden gasp of pain as he pokes my wound, I pull away.
“Careful!” I hiss.
“Sorry,” he replies, picking up his cup again and taking a sip. There's a faint smile on his lips, even though he's trying to keep it hidden. “I've always known that Oncephalus can be brutal, but I'm starting to think she's giving you a particularly hard time. I did consider speaking to her about it, maybe asking her to be more gentle and -”
