“So this is The Nightlands,” Garen said as he emerged from the end of his newly formed tunnel. “I can see why they call it that.”
He stared out at the gray sky and bleak landscape that was vastly different from the world that he’d known. Shadows gathered on the ground and pooled around his feet in a way that shouldn’t have been possible as there was no obvious source of light to cast them. All of the celestial bodies that he’d taken for granted in The World of Light were gone: sun, moon, and stars. The world before him was completely alien in every way.
“It may be strange,” he said with a faint smile, “but it’s still better than being locked away within the mountain.”
His breath rose away from him in a fog and he realized that it was even colder outside than it had been in the tunnel. Looking back behind him, he could see the slaves coming through the narrow tunnel toward him. Nearly all of them were already shivering.
They seem to be feeling the cold far more than I am; probably another side effect of having a demon inside of me.
The tunnel opened out in the middle of a steep slope of rock, but it only led down a short distance before leveling off into a small landing that jutted out from the mountainside. Garen knew that neither he nor Cassandra would have any difficulty traversing the slope, but the others were only human. Starving, tired, and freezing cold: they were in no condition to climb down even the short distance to the landing.
They need a fire and something to eat. Actually, it’s been just as long since I last ate; why am I not starving? I hardly feel human anymore.
Peering down the mountainside revealed little that would prove useful. He didn’t see any trees or wood for burning. The only plants that he could see were tufts of long, blackish grass that sprouted at random from the black stone of the mountain. Garen signaled for the slaves closest to him to stop.
“Cassandra,” he called knowing that she was at the back of the line of people coming through the tunnel. “We can’t go any further without giving these people something to eat. We also need to find some way to keep them warm, but I don’t see any wood for a fire.”
As gently as she could, Cassandra made her way past the 17 slaves that stood between them. The rounded shaped of Garen’s newly formed tunnel restricted her movements slightly, but her lithe figure and inhuman agility allowed her to navigate past all of the slaves almost effortlessly. As she moved around the last slave, she smiled wryly at Garen and walked up next to him.
“Both problems are easy enough to solve,” she explained. “In fact, the solution for both is the same thing: fever grass.”
“Fever grass? Sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“It’s what you’ve all been eating since the demons captured you, or in the case of those born in The Nightlands, it’s what they’ve been eating since birth.”
“That sludge that they fed us was fever grass?”
“That was the main ingredient at least; you don’t really want to know what else was in that. Fever grass is the most common plant found in The Nightlands; it grows in abundance everywhere. Demons have no use for it, as it doesn’t affect us, but it has a peculiar effect on humans.”
“Let me guess: it makes us able to work harder, for longer periods of time, with little rest and no other food, right?”
“Yes, but it also makes your bodies more resistant to the cold temperatures of The Nightlands. How did you know what fever grass did if you didn’t even know what it was?”
“I’ve been eating that stuff for six months and trust me, I could tell the difference. Humans shouldn’t be able to survive what we slaves have had to, so I’ve had my suspicions all along that it was something that they were feeding us.”
“Even when you were being forced to work yourself to the bone, you never stopped taking in everything around you, did you?” she asked softly so that only he would hear her. “You never gave up the way the rest of these people did, despite the circumstances. Your unwavering hope is truly fascinating, Garen.”
Garen smiled at the compliment, but a quick glance over Cassandra’s shoulder at the other slaves immediately made him became serious again. 17 tired, weary slaves stood shivering in a single file line behind her. He could feel the weight of their lives in his hands, and he knew that without him, they would all die.
“I noticed some large clumps of some kind of plant on the slopes outside,” Garen stated bluntly. “Could that be fever grass?”
“Most likely, yes. We’ll only need a hand full of it to feed all of them.”
“Alright, I’ll be right back with some; try to keep everyone calm.”
He glanced down at Cero, smiled, and then ran out of the tunnel’s mouth. He ran down the steep rock slope as easily as if he were running on level ground and quickly reached the landing below. Fever grass sprouted out of the rock around him in tufts and patches.
He quickly walked over to one of the tufts of dark, blackish grass. It had looked normal enough from a distance, but up close he could tell that it was as alien to him as everything else in The Nightlands. Each blade of grass was round instead of flat and was over an inch thick at the base, tapering off to a point at the tip. The grass reached out of the ground like the tentacles of a desperate buried creature and rose to over his waist in height.
Garen grabbed a handful of the closest blades and nearly recoiled at the fleshy texture of the plants. Bile began to rise in the back of his throat as he remembered the vaguely meaty flavor of the sludge that the demons had fed him. Thinking of the freezing, hungry slaves in the tunnel above, he forced himself to continue, and he yanked the grass free from the ground, root and all. It seemed to flex in his hand slightly as if it were somehow aware of what he was doing, but he ignored it.
Fever grass in hand, Garen rushed back up the steep slope. Despite the nearly vertical surface of the slope, his feet were able to find purchase with ease. Every step drove him farther up the mountain than he knew should've been possible. In a few brief moments, he’d scaled the steep slope and stood back in the open mouth of the tunnel.
As he stepped into the tunnel, the slaves all shuffled backward in fear; unsure of his intentions. Garen remembered feeling a similar fear nearly every waking moment for the past six months, and he knew that he could do nothing to help the slaves overcome their fear. Trying his best to ignore them, he walked over to Cassandra and handed her the long, dark tendrils of fever grass.
“This should be more than enough for the few slaves that we have with us,” she said as she took the grass from him.
“How exactly are we supposed to eat it?”
“You and I won’t be eating any; it wouldn’t do us any good. The rest of them will just have to eat it as is, as we lack the means to make it into the gruel that they are normally fed.”
“You want them to eat that?” Garen asked as he gestured to the thick, fleshy tendrils of grass that hung from her hand.
“It’s that or starve,” she stated bluntly. “We both know which one they’ll choose, so let’s just get on with it.”
“Fine,” Garen said in disgust.
Cassandra immediately set to breaking up the thick, fleshy grass. His stomach turned as he saw the plants' meaty innards. Bile rose in the back of his throat, but he choked it back down.
Turning away, he left Cassandra to her task and walked the short distance back to the end of the tunnel. As he stared down at the rugged mountainside, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. All of his demonically improved senses told him the same thing at once: he was not alone.
Drawing on his experience as a hunter in The World of Light, Garen knew that something was stalking him. Reflexively, he dropped into a low crouch in order to determine who or what it was watching him. He nearly fell over as an arrow of brilliant light narrowly missed him. It pierced through the empty air where his head had been a moment earlier, and exploded into the black rock beside him. Stone shards and dust engulfed him leaving him momentarily blinded, but he had the sense
to move before a second attack could connect with him.
Garen leapt up out of the cloud of dust and debris, just as a second arrow raced toward him as he’d guessed. The arrow exploded harmlessly against the tunnel mouth as Garen landed on the stone slope above it and looked up in the direction of his attacker. Purple lightning flashed from his skin and arced out to meet another arrow in mid-flight. The two energies met in a brief clash of power before Garen’s lightning consumed the arrow of light entirely.
Garen narrowed his eyes as he spotted his attacker off to his left farther up the mountain. The man, clad in white robes, stood on a rock that jutted out from the sloping mountainside. A black bandana of sorts was tied around the man’s eyes hiding most of his upper face, but his long silvery hair gave away his identity almost immediately.
“Orlon Rin?” Garen gasped in disbelief.
If the man heard Garen, he made no attempt to answer. Instead, he leapt up into the air and formed a variety of brilliant glowing projectile weapons out of thin air. Knives, spears, arrows, hatchets, and various other bladed instruments of death streamed down at Garen in a torrent of gleaming light.
With a mind of its own, Garen’s lightning flared to life and met every attack mid-flight. In a series of rapid bursts of energy, his lightning met and consumed every potentially lethal weapon with flawless accuracy. The sizzling and shrieking of the clashing energies rang out across the mountainside and the heat of each exchange scarred the already black stone causing it to crack and crumble.
“Garen what’s happening?” shouted Cassandra’s voice from beside him, but he didn’t have time to look much less answer her.
The robed attacker made his way down the mountain, never letting up his attack until he was level with Garen on the sloped mountainside. Only then did he cease throwing weapons of light long enough for Garen to see the hatred etched in his face.
Less than 50 feet separated the two of them. With his demonically enhanced eyes, Garen could see the twitch of even the smallest muscles in the man’s face. It was locked in a menacing scowl that made him seem far older than his otherwise youthful appearance suggested.
“Part of me was hoping that I would catch you off guard and end this quickly,” the man said in a stern voice that seemed out of place with his youthful face. “The rest, however, is glad that you managed to avoid my attacks. This way we can finish this face to face. I will make you pay for all the lives that you’ve taken.”
“What are you-”
Garen’s words were cut off as the man’s foot crushed into the side of his head with outrageous force. Instantly, his face struck the rocky slope and rebounded off. Something struck him in the stomach, hard, and then a fist collided with his head forcing it back down again.
How can he be so fast; I didn’t even see him move? And he hits as hard as Babossa; no human should possess strength like this. I didn't know lightwielders could be so powerful.
An iron hand gripped him by the back of his neck as he tried to push himself up from the rocky slope. With surprising ease, he was tossed a short ways straight up into the air and as he came down the man spun around and kicked him squarely in the stomach. Garen’s breath was driven from his lungs by the brutal force of the kick, and his body was launched up and out from the mountainside.
Air rushed past him as he careened through the open sky toward the lower slopes of the mountain. He gripped his crushed stomach with one hand, fighting to draw breath, while he watched the man grow ever more distant on the slopes above as he fell through the air.
Forcing his pain aside, Garen flipped over to see where he was heading and saw that he was about to hit the ground. Dirt and rock blinded him and pain exploded throughout his body as he struck the rocky slope and began rolling down it even farther. In desperation, he flung out his left arm and caught hold of the rocky surface, halting his rolling descent with a sudden jerk.
Immediately, a foot crushed down on his hand hard enough to crack the stone beneath it. Garen cried out in pain for only a moment before a wave of agony shot down his arm, far worse than the crushing of his hand. Glancing up through the staggering pain, Garen saw that the lightwielder stood on his hand with one foot and had driven a blade of light through his forearm just below the wrist.
“Though I should make you suffer much more for all that you’ve done, I will end this quickly,” the lightwielder said with contempt.
Garen watched as the man released his hold on the blade of light that had his arm pinned to the ground. Leaving him pinned, the man formed another blade of light in his hand and moved it over to hover above Garen’s neck. Lightning flared to life all across Garen’s body, lashing out at the lightwielder in desperation, but a glowing light rose from the lightwielder wherever the lightning attempted to strike him and the two canceled each other out.
“Your blasphemous powers won’t save you from me, demon!”
As if in response to the man’s claim, a boulder collided with the man’s head momentarily distracting him. Seizing the opportunity, Garen sent a tremendous bolt of demonic energy straight into the lightwielder’s chest throwing him backward.
“Garen!”
Garen turned his head to see Cassandra running down the slope towards him. He tried to rise, but was only rewarded with a sharp, piercing pain. He looked down and saw that the blade of light remained in his forearm pinning it to the ground as surely as a steel spike. As he looked at the glowing blade of light, he could feel Gormum’s memories threatening to break through the mental barrier that he constantly struggled to maintain in his mind. Bits and pieces of Gormum's consciousness were worming their way into his thoughts with every passing moment.
I can feel Gormum’s hatred for this man more potently than anything else I’ve ever felt; I’m not sure if I can keep him at bay for much longer.
His thoughts were interrupted as another blade of light pierced down through his hip pinning him more securely to the ground. The lightwielder wasted no time in forming another blade as he turned his attention to the approaching spire demon.
Cassandra ran down the slope as swiftly as he’d ever seen her move, but it wasn’t fast enough. She'd nearly reached him when the lightwielder stepped between them. Cassandra stopped abruptly and crouched down to avoid a potentially fatal slice of the lightwielder’s blade as it carved through the air where her throat had just been. Another slash came down and she narrowly dodged aside, but wasn’t swift enough to avoid the kick that instantly greeted her in mid-air and sent her reeling onto a landing of rock that jutted out from the rocky slope.
She flipped as she hit the ground and ended up in a crouch only to find the lightwielder already standing in front of her. Launching herself up from the ground, she lashed out with impressive speed, but the lightwielder brushed her attack aside and punched her directly in the face. Blood exploded from her mouth and nose and she crumpled to the ground. Raising the blade of light over his head the lightwielder loomed over her like an angel of death.
“Cassandra, no!”
The blades of light in his arm and hip exploded in a dazzling burst of purple lightning. Forgetting everything else, including his pain, Garen flew up from the ground and dashed forward faster than he'd ever dreamed possible. His hand closed around the lightwielder’s wrist just as the blade of light was about to bite into Cassandra’s exposed throat. A look of surprise crossed the lightwielder’s face just before Garen’s fist caught him in the jaw and sent him flying along the landing.
Raw pain tore through Garen as he looked down at Cassandra as she lay bleeding on the slope at his feet. He turned his gaze back to the lightwielder and his anger came into such a deadly focus that a chill ran along his spine like venom spreading through his body. Anger festered within him and began to weaken the barrier in his mind even as Gormum’s tireless hatred continued to claw at it from the other side.
Flashes of memory burst through his mind's eye and a sense of malicious bloodlust was beginning to take hold of him as the demon pri
nce's mind seeped into his own despite his efforts. He knew that it was only a matter of time before his willpower failed and Gormum once again took over his mind and body. Though he didn’t want it to happen, he knew that with Gormum’s mastery of his powers and the experience that he possessed from countless centuries of battle, he would stand a much better chance if the mental barrier came down.
If I let Gormum take over, what happens after this battle is over? Will I be able to regain control like I did last time or will I lose myself completely to his will?
The lightwielder stood up swiftly and turned to face him. Garen found the bandana over the man’s eyes unnerving, but it didn’t seem to hinder the lightwielder’s effectiveness at all. Even blind, the lightwielder had defeated Cassandra in a single blow and had been easily tearing him apart. Fear crept in and began to mingle with his anger. He started to doubt whether or not he could actually win against such a powerful opponent on his own.
If this really is Orlon Rin, then even with Gormum’s help I might not be able to win. The last time they fought, he killed Gormum all by himself.
“You shouldn’t have been able to survive, demon,” the lightwielder stated venomously, “but I’ve had my suspicions these many years. Since I was never able to actually see you die, I could never really be sure that you were indeed dead. And so I’ve spent the last 200 years training myself for this very day. This time there will be no doubt: I will destroy you completely and never again will your evil threaten The World of Light!”
“I’m not who you think I am; I’m not Gormum!” Garen angrily shouted at the lightwielder.
“I don’t care what you call yourself, demon, you can’t fool me. I will never forget what you look like; my eyes see you for what you truly are!”
The lightwielder swiftly reached up and grabbed hold of the black bandana that he wore over his eyes. With a jerk, he pulled it free from his face and revealed the eyes that had been hidden away beneath it. Brilliant, white orbs of light, like two small stars, were embedded in the lightwielder’s face where his eyes had once been.
It is Orlon Rin. The same attack that killed Gormum and filled the mountain with glowstones must have had the same effect on his eyes. They’re the brightest glowstones I’ve ever seen.
“I see the demonic energy racing through your hideous body even now; you can’t hide it from me!”
Throwing the black bandana aside Orlon Rin launched into motion. He dashed forward at incredible speed, but this time Garen focused and was able to see the lightwielder’s approach. As Orlon moved to throw a punch at him, Garen caught it in mid-air. He lowered both of their arms, reached across with his other hand, and punched at Orlon’s face.
Leaning back, Orlon dodged the punch, and unleashed a flurry of motion that Garen couldn’t hope to keep up with. In a fluid, graceful movement, Orlon spun his arm out of Garen’s grasp and kicked him in the stomach. As he doubled over from the kick, Orlon dropped low and grabbed Garen’s head with both hands and threw him over his shoulder with a vicious tug.
He’s too skilled. I’m not a warrior; I don't stand a chance in a fight like this.
Garen landed hard on his back, but had barely touched the ground before a chain of light slashed down across his chest. Scorching heat, hotter than any flame, burned at his skin threatening to cut him in half. Violet lightning rose up from his skin in a flash and force the chain of light away, but it didn’t move far before a second chain fell across it forcing it back down.
Garen struggled against the chains, but each time that he managed to push them back even slightly, another chain lashed out across the others binding him further. In only a few short moments, more than a dozen chains of light were stretched across him. Sweat beads formed on his forehead as he realized the danger that he was in.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up, but the moment that I stop fighting back those chains are going to obliterate me. I need to get out of here, now!
Garen continued to put more power into the barrier of lightning that surrounded him, but it had almost no effect. More and more chains continued to pile on burying him beneath their weightless, glowing forms.
“It’s useless to struggle,” Orlon stated emotionlessly. “I created this technique long ago just for you. Eventually, it will kill you regardless of how strong you are or believe yourself to be.”
“Damn you, why are you doing this?” Garen shouted while trying desperately to keep from being killed by the growing number of chains that threatened to crush and incinerate him.
“You know well what this is about, demon; I’m not going to explain myself further to a corpse.”
Between the chains, Garen saw Orlon turn and begin to walk away from him toward Cassandra. As he walked, a blade of light once again formed in his hand that shone light the surface of the sun and was likely just as deadly. The lightwielder stopped as he reached Cassandra and positioned the tip of his blade directly over her heart.
No, no, no, I must do something now or he’s going to kill Cassandra. I need to break through these chains. I need... power.
“This one must die as well if The World of Light is to be truly safe. No demon can be allowed to live or they will undoubtedly plague the innocent and cause further bloodshed and carnage.”
“No, stop it,” Garen shouted in spite of the crushing force of the chains pressing down on him, but he knew that his pleas were useless. There was only one way that Garen would be able to stop him. “Cassandra!”
Orlon paused to look over at him as if surprised to find that he still had the strength to offer resistance, but the pause was all the time that Garen required. As he released the mental wall that he’d been struggling to maintain between himself and Gormum, a feeling of pure, untainted, uncontrollable rage raced through him and manifested itself in a single word.
“Lightwielder,” Garen cried out in a voice that was as different from his own as the icy rage that accompanied it.
The violet lightning that swirled around him suddenly flared in intensity and immediately shattered the chains of light that had bound him. In a dazzling flash, it severed every single link of every chain all at the same time. The lightwielder's chains shattered apart and faded even as the lightning around him continued to surge in intensity.
Slowly, he rose to his feet never taking his hate-filled, ashen eyes off of Orlon. Lightning burst from his skin and poured out over the rock of the landing, scouring trails into it. More lightning flew from him up into the sky lighting up the mountainside in a violent storm of purple energy.
Shock registered on Orlon’s face as he witnessed the spectacle. He took half a step back forgetting about Cassandra entirely. Before Orlon’s foot touched the ground to complete his step backward, Garen had his hand closed around the lightwielder’s throat in an iron grip and held him off the ground with one arm.
“We meet again, slave of Anedae!”
Devouring Darkness Page 45
