Battle of Demons: Empire Wars Book One

by Moon, Tim

  Both demonblades fought back, each one attempting to impose their will on him. Invisible currents of magic pierced his head. Han grunted with the effort and began the hand motions to reinforce his orb with a new one. Red light sparked in his hands.

  The demonblade on his right hacked at the thinning shell of the orb. Crackling energy showered sparks over them. His companion pressed down on Han with his will. After a few more strikes with his sword, the demonblade stepped back and began to create his own orb. It started off as an amorphous, inky shape that warped and changed as he poured more energy into it. Soon, it expanded and began to turn into a grayish, smoke color. It was translucent, but was an uneven, constantly shifting shape.

  Han saw his chance. Roaring with power, the new orb cradled in his hands suddenly snapped out, shattering the original one. Pieces of the energy shield flew out as it was replaced by the new one. Monks collapsed to the floor, their blood spreading along the seams between the stone tiles. The dark orb warped under the blow. It remained steady despite the obvious damage. Arrows striking Han’s new orb burst into puffs of smoke.

  Not wanting to lose the initiative, Han crouched down, drawing more energy into himself than he had in years. He relished the challenge. He stood up, unleashing his best war cry and shoved his hands out toward the demonblades. A massive clapping boom, like thunder, roared in the hall as he channeled the magic he had coiled within and sent out a shock wave that cracked several of the pillars. Bodies fared far worse.

  The stream of molten fire that blasted from Han’s palm skewered the demonblade on his left. On his right, the gray orb shattered and flung fragments of energy into the remaining monks. It struck them down as effectively as shrapnel from cannon fire, while the molten fire seared what was left of the demonblade. Han’s shield burst needlessly, peppering the bodies around him with even more magical shrapnel.

  Without surveying the damage, Han bolted toward the doors. He leapt over the bodies and through the exit of the monastery, sprinting down the cobblestone path leading down the mountain. Fatigue swamped him, but he pushed on.

  Several screams of pain rose from the pile of bodies; Han heard shouts and footsteps chasing after him. He did not look back. He simply lowered his head and continued running down the path. Before long, his momentum carried him downhill with very little effort.

  As he came around a corner, he saw a patrol coming uphill toward him. The daxia were already armed with arrows nocked, clearly alerted to his presence. Along with the sound of arrows being loosed at him, the noise behind him was substantial. Apparently his blast wave had done quite a number on the ancient structure. During ebbs in all the noise of the crashing and crumbling building, he heard screaming monks.

  Han didn’t even bother to check for the demonblades. If they somehow survived the blast, or were summoned from the depths of hell and were still intent on killing him, then he hoped they would do it quickly without prior warning. Just the way he always dreamed of dying.

  Until then, he would run.

  Han undid the ties that held the special cloak bundle. It unfurled on his back. The breeze caught the edge and the cloak flapped out to his side. He felt a small tug at the same time he heard the tearing of fabric.

  An arrow had pierced his cloak, leaving behind a torn flap.

  Han cursed under his breath and pulled the cloak in close to his body. If he was to escape, he could not afford to have the cloak damaged.

  An arrow whistled past his head causing him to flinch. Han moved to the edge of the trail and hoped the tree branches overhanging the path would provide sufficient cover. Arrows clattered against the cobblestones, but few were near him despite his pursuers gaining on him.

  Han sped around the next corner and took a deep breath, wincing at the burning ache in his thighs. The trail was narrow here as it ran along the edge of a sharp cliff. He spoke the first command word and the cloak attached itself to him. Grasping the edges of the cloak, Han ignored his racing heart and the lump forming in his throat, sprinted as fast as he could, growling with the effort, and leaped off the trail.

  Shouts of surprise and anger followed him through the fog and cloud cover as he silently fell away. The stone cliffs around him raced by at a frantic pace. The fog began to clear and Han saw clouds far below rush up toward him. Wind whipped through his hair and his grip tightened on the cloak. He spoke the power word and the cloak stiffened. His descent slowed significantly, and he began to glide forward.

  Shifting his feet and arms, Han could steer his flight path. He banked to the left to avoid a mountain on his right. The frigid air forced him to squint hard, while tears leaked out of the edges of his eyes. He imagined the streams of tears freezing into tiger stripes and it made him smile.

  The fear of leaping off the mountain gave way to a joy so pure that Han wished he could bottle it for later consumption. Freedom embraced him as he soared through the sky like the golden eagles he’d seen the Khanma use for hunting. His skin tingled from the cold air, but he was not concerned about it at all. Before long he would be at a warmer elevation.

  Han was still dropping down toward the tree line. The ripples and twists in the land between the mountain peaks looked small. Pine trees blended together forming an emerald blanket that looked soft enough to lay on.

  Emotion welled up within him and since the monastery was far behind, Han let out a whoop that echoed off the mountainsides.

  Chapter 7

  Bursting out of the clouds, cruising just feet over the trees on a hilltop, the ground below Han dropped away revealing a waterfall. A flock of birds rose from the trees and veered from the strange creature disturbing their slumber.

  Han’s flight path brought him out of the mountains toward the largest lake in the region. Lifting his gaze from the waterfall and river below him, he saw the glimmering waters of Angel Lake. From his angle, the water looked blue-green, but he knew close-up the water was clear and pure.

  Pulling in his arms a little, Han tilted his body forward and gained speed by diving toward the ground. He arched his back and spread his limbs out and actually gained some altitude as his momentum lifted him up. He tucked in his right arm and rolled sideways through the air before leveling out again.

  Minutes of steady cruising brought him past the shoreline of the lake. The body of water was so large he lost sight of the far edge to the horizon. This last bit of maneuvering would be tricky, he knew. His training had included a similar landing, albeit from a lower altitude and with less speed, but he felt a surge of excitement race through his body. The basic maneuver was the same regardless of his speed.

  Han sped along, a mature pine’s height above the water, slowly losing altitude. A dark spot on the water in the distance hinted at the boat that awaited his arrival. Directly below him, Han caught glimpses of fish swimming in the clear water. He decided that Angel Lake was one of his favorite locations in Dagongshan, and seeing it from such height was something he knew few would ever experience and live to tell about it.

  When he was within a few dozen feet of the water, Han spoke the word of power again, releasing the energy from the cloak. It went slack and whipped through the air like a flag in a cavalry charge. He plummeted toward the water, gathering his energy and pushing out a blast from his hands that slowed his descent to a relatively safe speed. A second before impact, Han formed a ball of energy, expanded it into a small orb, and pulled himself inside so he would not have to spend too much of his remaining energy.

  He braced for impact.

  The translucent orb smashed into the water with a brilliant flash of light. Han winced on instinct as the impact sent up a blast of water. There was no pain in his body as he sank beneath the surface. Master Yoshi’s technique had proved to be effective. He released the energy and the orb dissipated, cold glacial water rushing in to fill the void. The chill of Angel Lake nearly stole the breath from his lungs as he uncurled and began to swim to the surface.

  The uniform he wore clung to his body, weighin
g him down as he swam. His head broke the surface of the lake and he sucked in a deep breath. First thing he did was wriggle out of his top, leaving his pants on, along with the bandolier that held the signet. His sword weighed him down so he floated on his back to save his strength. Turning slowly in the water as he gulped in fresh air, Han was in awe of what he just did. He would have to thank Master Yoshi for the cloak and his expert instruction as soon as he returned. It had been an incredible escape.

  Placing the river he flew over behind him, Han began to swim casually and hoped the boat would reach him before the frigid water stole all the strength from his limbs and he drowned. Breathing heavy from the effort he had expended, Han decided to take a break. He lay back and floated on the water while he waited for the boat.

  Soon, the steady slap of oars gained his attention and Han began to swim slowly toward the boat with a broad smile on his face.

  “It’s about time,” he said playfully.

  Chapter 8

  Han stepped onto the dock and turned to thank the captain. The broad-shouldered man clasped his forearm and bid him farewell. Han pulled the man close, took a gold piece from a pouch inside his shirt, and discretely slipped the captain the extra coin.

  “Why, thank you, sir,” he said, quickly dropping the coin into his pocket.

  “See that your crew enjoys a bit of that as well,” Han said with a wink.

  The captain’s mouth twitched a little, but he nodded. “I will.”

  “I bid you farewell, captain.” Han patted him on the shoulder and waved to the crew aboard the ship who stood watching the two. A few waved back before returning to their duties to avoid undue attention from their commander.

  Han had stripped off his wet clothing as soon as he boarded, and dumped the ansha robes in the lake using a rock the captain had carried for him. Wearing the uniform would be far too conspicuous. Therefore, he left the ship dressed in peasant’s attire. It was loose enough to conceal the leather belts that crossed his chest, each holding padded pouches concealing the signet and more gold coins. Master Yoshi had enchanted one pouch so Han could conceal his sword.

  The boat had taken him East across Angel Lake where the small town of Deoksan nestled against the shoreline. Green grasses stretched out on either side of the town while forest blanketed the far side. Buildings were lined up neatly along cobbled roads, and in the center of it all stood a towering temple to the Great Teacher.

  Han strode along the dock and began to look for something to eat. Time was short, but he was famished. Given the proximity to the monastery, he could not risk word coming from the monks about his exploits. As a foreigner, he already stuck out like a goose among chickens. It would not take long to piece things together.

  He would eat, purchase a few supplies, and be on his way. Fishermen along the dock had been staring since he stepped off the boat. Townsfolk were busy going about their business, yet not so busy they could not find a moment to stare at the stranger. Han walked with a purpose, but avoided eye contact. He had to play the role of a peasant as best he could. Once he was away from the pier, he would blend in easier.

  Han made his way through town, enjoying the sights and smells. Most of the shops were selling produce, meat, or fish, but not prepared food. His stomach protested its vacancy. Finally, when he could not stand it any longer, Han asked an old man for the nearest noodle shop. A crooked and weathered finger pointed the way. Han quickly thanked the man and hurried in the direction of the restaurant.

  The food street was easy to spot. Stalls lined either side as the proprietors hawked all manner of curious and delicious foods. Han’s eyes widened in pleasure and his mouth began to water.

  The first stall on the corner sold sausages on a stick. Han bought three and ate while he perused the other stalls, looking for something more substantive. Then he spotted it. The stall had a sign swinging in the light breeze that proclaimed it as Angel’s Best Noodles. He nearly keeled over from joy as the scent of his favorite food in all the lands enveloped him. It went a long way to cleanse the scent of burning flesh that clung in his nose from the battle.

  “I’ll take a large bowl of pork and mushroom soup, please,” Han said.

  The woman stirring one of the pots eyed him curiously, but nodded politely. “Six coppers.”

  “What?” Han’s eyes narrowed. “Two coppers is more than fair.”

  “Four coppers for the soup and a fist of bread.”

  “Three and two fists of bread,” Han said firmly.

  She eyed him again. He turned as if to go and she relented.

  “Fine. Three coppers and two fists of bread. No butter though,” she said, grudgingly.

  Karsing foreigner pricing, he thought. He handed her the payment and then stood watching as she prepped his meal. She stopped after a moment and stared at him. Han smiled at her.

  “Take a seat inside if you’d like.”

  “Right, of course. Thank you,” he said, slowly moving away.

  Seating was in a small room, not much larger than a modest bedroom. The walls were bare save for one scroll painted with the characters for good luck. A calligrapher had drawn them in dark black ink. Three small tables, two on one side of the room and one on the other, awaited guests.

  Han pulled out a carved wooden bench seat and sat down. He leaned forward with his forearms on the table and inspected the condiments before him. One bottle held soy sauce, another held a mixture of crushed peppers and rapeseed oil, and another held crushed peppercorn. He sniffed each one and smiled as the aromas filled his nose.

  The woman grunted and began walking toward Han’s table. He smiled at her and nodded his thanks as she set the bowl down. Steam rose from the golden liquid teaming with noodles and topped with slices of pork, chopped mushrooms, and slivers of onion. The woman came back with a pair of chopsticks and the bread, and then returned to her position behind the large pot along the street.

  Han ate in peace. He watched the road, where the townsfolk and local traders strolled the street to conduct their business, stopping on occasion to enjoy the delicious food. A noodle he slurped flicked a drop of soup on his nose, and he wiped it on the sleeve of his brown top. When he looked up, Han was shocked to see three monks riding slowly down the street on horses. They were carefully surveying the area, taking note of each person they saw. They were too close for him to get up and move further into the back of the restaurant, which would just raise suspicion.

  Instead of moving, Han lowered his head and slowly ate his noodles. The horses clomped along the road. Han listened intently for any sign they had recognized him.

  When the clomping stopped, he peeked up a little. A monk was staring at him with narrowed eyes. Inside, Han’s stomach twisted, but outwardly he revealed no surprise. He slowly took another bite of noodles as if nothing was amiss. When the monk still hadn’t continued on, Han looked up at him and gave a short nod.

  The man on the horse was unfamiliar, and it was unlikely the two had come into direct contact at the monastery. Yet Han understood that he stood out as a foreigner. Perhaps the monk was simply noting the foreigner. With a curt nod in response, the monk looked further along the road and nudged his horse with his heels.

  Han let out a breath and continued eating his noodles. He felt the eyes of the proprietor on him, but he ignored her. She wasn’t important. If he absolutely had to, he could silence her and be gone before anyone noticed something was wrong. He hated to dispatch townsfolk simply because they grew too curious. To his relief, she went about her business without comment or further attention.

  He finished his noodles and stood up to stretch. Rotating his head and shoulders, Han worked out a few kinks from all the activity. Then, he helped himself to a ladle full of water and left the restaurant with a smile and nod to the woman, who eyed him curiously yet again.

  In a few moments, Han blended into the crowd wandering the streets and turned down an alley to reach the next road. Fewer people were in the next street, so Han was able to ma
ke good time. He walked east at a quick pace. Staying in town would grow riskier by the minute, and he had no reason to stay. On his way out of town, he bought a large waterskin and a pouch he filled with several days’ worth of food. He filled up the waterskin at a well and hustled down the road.

  When he was out of sight of the town, Han left the road for the concealment of the surrounding forest. If the warrior monks were already patrolling the area, it made sense others may be monitoring the roads leading away from points of interest. None of the monks would pose much risk, but he did not care to leave a trail of bodies for others to follow.

  Han thanked the Great Teacher that he had been able to dispatch the demonblades. A smile tugged at his lips as he thought about the looks of surprise that inevitably crossed the faces of his foes, even if they were hidden by masks. Lost in his thoughts, he was not being as mindful as he should and ended up with the branches of a thorny bush piercing his thigh.

  He sucked in a breath at the jolt of pain and glanced down at the annoying branches clinging to his clothing.

  Chapter 9

  The jagged cliffs of Kardoon formed the landscape before Han. He examined the land to get his bearings. At this point, he was closing in on the rendezvous point where he would meet a notorious pirate.

  Captain Zheng would serve as Han’s transport across the Jade Sea, from Dagongshan to Ishigandar. Crossing further south at the Spider’s Thread was far too risky, and given the rising tensions between the two kingdoms, it was unwise.

  Zheng was friendly with the daxia monastery and Master Yoshi. It was Master Yoshi who told Han to organize the trip with Zheng, and his word was good enough for Han. The captain was eccentric, but he liked her. She was cunning, as a pirate should be, and fearless. Zheng possessed a daring that would have cut short the life of a lesser being. Yet, she thrived.