A Demon's Quest the Beginning of the End the Trilogy Box Set

by Charles Carfagno Jr.

  Rustic finally squirmed out from underneath the dead body and approached the stranger.

  “Thanks for saving my life.”

  Deep in thought, the stranger turned his attention toward Rustic. “I should be thanking you instead. I’ve been tracking these foul beasts for some time now, and if it wasn’t for you, they would have gotten away again. I admire your bravery. I haven’t seen that in such a long time.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice. After I found my friend, they came out of hiding.” Rustic pointed to Broc.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. My friend, too, was captured and killed by them. I was starting to give up any hope of finding them when I heard you fighting.”

  “What are they?”

  “The creatures are called Mangalers. They travel in packs of ten or twenty and usually attack lone individuals. Their primitive beliefs tell them to torture and sacrifice victims to their gods in some horrific fashion, so that they’ll receive more powers.”

  “My name is Rustic. What’s yours?”

  “Sun Tun Mae. I hail from the south.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sun. You fight very well. I never saw anyone fight unarmed like that before. Where did you learn to fight?”

  “Let’s mend your arm and bury your friend, then we’ll talk some more.”

  After Sun mended his arm, they untied Broc and carried him a few hundred feet away and buried him, along with his family heirloom, in an unmarked grave. After a short prayer service, they sat down to finish their conversation.

  “Growing up, my father taught me a couple of things. The first was to help people when needed, and the second was how to defend myself and never be afraid.”

  “How long have you been training in your art?”

  “Since I was a child, my father taught me until I surpassed his teachings, and then he sent me away to the Order of the Open Hand. Did you ever hear of it?”

  “I did, but never met anyone from there or saw their skills before.”

  Sun grinned. “How about you?”

  “For about ten years.”

  “You’re quite skillful for someone with that amount of training. I’m very impressed.”

  “I wasn’t even supposed to be a fighter. I was destined to follow in my father’s footsteps and run the family farm.”

  “What happened?”

  “Shortly before my fourteenth birthday, a stranger named Nepor came to our farm and changed everything.” Rustic paused and reflected on his memories. “He was looking for work, and my father befriended him and allowed him to stay with us. What we didn’t know was that he was a thief, and when my father caught him stealing, he murdered him and my oldest brother.”

  “Where were you?” Sun asked.

  “I was in town with my mother and sister looking for supplies, and when we returned, Nepor was gone. My mother was so distraught that I joined the Order of the Wicked Steel with a single-minded purpose of revenge. I trained every day and night until no one in my school could best me. It was then that I knew I was ready and left.”

  “Did you ever find Nepor?” Sun asked.

  “I almost did, but by the time I caught up with him, it was too late. He was killed robbing the wrong person.”

  “Again, I am sorry for your loss.”

  They continued talking for another hour. Before they parted, Sun invited him to watch their yearly tournament, which was being held in Wistful.

  ****

  Utar woke at sunrise feeling disorientated from the experience he went through. While lying there, collecting his thoughts, Gilex approached him.

  “We have to get back to camp,” he said sternly.

  Utar nodded, got to his feet, and stumbled in the process, due to his equilibrium being unbalanced and his unsure footing.

  “What happened?” Utar asked, trying to recall the events from last night.

  “Everything will come back to you in time. Let’s just say you now have a full understanding of our mission.”

  Physically and mentally drained and feeling different somehow, Utar could tell something foreign was surging through his body. What it was, he didn’t know, and it frightened him.

  During their trip back, memories flooded Utar’s mind, slow at first and then, like water flowing over a fall, overwhelming him all at once. So strong were the visions, they caused him to drop to one knee, holding his head between his hands. Pain then coursed through his head, constricting it like a tightly wound snake would if it was wrapped around his chest, squeezing his life away. The events from the night before flashed before his eyes; Gilex dressed in black robes, shrouded in the gray mist, the book he read from, stabbing him, and the mysterious voices. He remembered everything. After a couple of minutes, the pain subsided. Gilex, standing a few feet away, watched with sheer delight, knowing what he was going through.

  “Gilex.” Utar’s voice sounded weak and unsure. “Someone calls to me.”

  “I know, they call to me too.”

  “Who are they?”

  “They, my boy, are the Blood Knights.” Gilex smiled.

  “How can they talk to you?”

  “When I found the book and began reading it, the voices started talking to me. They told me who they were and where to find them.”

  “I’m guessing the Circle of Demise. And what happens after you summon them? Did you think about that?”

  “After they appear, I need to recite one small verse from the book, and they will be under our control. Think about it; power over the most elite warriors ever known to exist.

  “You mean under your control.”

  “I mean ours,” said Gilex. “Anyone who reads from the tome and understands their words will have full control over them.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because the writing says so.” Gilex grinned.

  “Do you believe everything you read?”

  “No. But after reading the first few chapters, then things started happening just like the book said, I was sold.”

  “So that was your plan all along? To release the Blood Knights and go after Togan?”

  “Yes,” Gilex said, smiling proudly. “The more I read from the book, the greater power I felt surging through my body. Can you feel their power growing from within?”

  Utar thought about it and conceded. “Yes. It’s faint, but I can feel something.”

  “All of my abilities have been enhanced. I’m stronger, faster, can heal quicker, and my skills as a fighter are almost unbeatable. The powers grow with each passing day, you’ll see.”

  Utar surmised that the evil that lay within the book had already been deep-rooted within Gilex. He stopped and faced Gilex.

  “The book is evil, and now you’ve infected me.”

  “Evil?” Gilex raised his voice. “I think not. It’s a very powerful and sacred artifact and should be used for good.”

  “What about the others? Will you impose your will on them like you did to me?”

  “I did not impose my will or the will of the book on you. I just wanted you to have the opportunity to hear the words.”

  “If you really felt that way, you should have handed me the book and allowed me to make up my own mind,” Utar said adamantly.

  “I didn’t think that you would read from it.”

  “You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

  “If we are to succeed, I need you to share my vision,” Gilex calmly said. “I’m sorry that I forced the readings on you. It just sort of happened.”

  “If you ever do something like this again, I will kill you,” Utar stated coldly. Gilex nodded.

  “Do you want to leave the group?” he asked. Despite wanting to do so, Utar felt compelled to stay.

  As they walked back to camp, Gilex provided him with most of the details, and the ultimate sacrifices they would have to make in order to complete their mission.

  Chapter 2: The Siege

  “My lord, they’re coming.”

  “How many?”

&nb
sp; “One, maybe two hundred,” Ying stated.

  “Get the men ready and annihilate those filthy little worms,” the Lord of the Mind commanded. He left his throne room to prepare for the attack.

  Ying smiled joyfully as he walked briskly down the long hallway and then descended three flights of stairs and finally into the barracks. Upon entering the room he shouted, “Get up; the leader needs us.”

  “What’s happening, brother?” Yang said in a calm voice as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  “We’ll be under attack in a few hours, and the chief wants them all dead.”

  “Sounds like fun. It’s been awhile,” Yang said, rising from his bed and taking his spear and armor from the wall.

  “True, brother; this should be fun.” Ying laughed and grabbed his weapons and armor as well. Except for the scar that ran from across Ying’s cheek, both men were identical even though they weren’t biological brothers.

  Staring out of his window into the darkness, the Lord of the Mind knew exactly where his enemy was even though he could not see them. “Fools, all of them are just that,” he murmured. “Do they really believe they can penetrate my fortress and kill me? They would need five thousand men to accomplish that feat.” He smirked arrogantly and stepped further out onto the battlements, then greeted his undead army below—not with words of course, but with his thoughts. Follow Ying and Yang into battle and destroy the army that opposes our home. You’re to obey them as if I led you myself. In unison, the Skeletons of War left their guard posts and went inside to seek out the captains. Repan, the self-proclaimed Lord of the Mind, smiled because he relished the opportunity to unleash his powers. Tonight was one of those occasions.

  ****

  Less than a mile south, the armies led by General Paven were positioned near the base of the Lord of Mind’s castle.

  “Bring the catapults into position!” he shouted from atop his horse.

  The command filtered down the ranks until the sound of heavy equipment shook the earth beneath their feet and stopped directly in front of the castle some four hundred yards away.

  “Bowman!” he shouted. His men took up position immediately.

  Tonight was the night he’d been waiting for. He’d spent the last five years of his life preparing for this battle and wondered if he had enough men to accomplish the task. He cursed the towns that wouldn’t help him battle this tyrant. He remembered pleading with them repeatedly for men and resources, but they didn’t see Repan the way he did. They thought he was just an old man living peacefully. The real man behind the façade was nothing more than pure evil, and his crimes were unspeakable. He was in mid-thought when a soldier approached.

  “Sir, look!” the man said in a shaky voice.

  Paven snapped out of his trance and turned toward the direction he was pointing. Repan stood on his balcony, his form clearly outlined by the light of his room.

  “You’re still afraid, aren’t you?” Paven asked the man without turning, and the soldier nodded. “I am too, but fear could be a good asset. You should know that what we’re doing here might save mankind. Who knows, maybe someday they’ll tell tales of our bravery and how we killed a hidden evil.”

  General Paven looked around at his makeshift army comprised of farmers, the poor, and his militia. He tried raising a real army, but without the support of the surrounding towns, it was useless. Turning his gaze back toward the castle, he was about to give the command to unleash hell when Repan’s forces suddenly appeared from the east and the west.

  ****

  Back at the castle, the Lord of the Mind concentrated on the battlefield, knelt on his left knee, and sent out wave after wave of his energy toward his men who were fast approaching from the west. Yang and his bodyguards led that charge along with a half dozen Skeletons of War, a few giants, and at least thirty Chatar creatures. When the energy engulfed the group, they grew and doubled in numbers—not in reality, of course, but in the minds of their enemy. It was his favorite mind altering weapon called Illusion of Deception, a skill he honed long ago, as it often worked very well against the weaker minds.

  ****

  On the battlefield, General Paven gave the order to launch the catapults. One by one, they hurled stones coated in thick oil and set ablaze at the castle. Onward the heavy projectiles flew until suddenly most froze in midflight, changed direction, and were hurtled back toward the catapults as if an invisible giant picked them up and threw them. The flaming spheres collided with the catapults and destroyed them upon impact, killing the men stationed around them. The boulders that didn’t change direction continued on their way and slammed into the castle walls, rocking the structure upon impact and sending the owner stumbling backward.

  Despite being knocked around, Repan never lost his concentration and the illusion of his vast army continued below. At the same time the catapults fell, Yang slammed into Paven’s forces from the west, and Ying did the same from the east. They were far better trained than Paven’s troops and cut his forces in half before they knew what had happened. The army terrified Paven’s troops to the point most of them broke ranks and retreated.

  It was rapidly falling apart for the general as he saw his men running away and the last of the catapults came crashing down under the weight of their own projectiles. He didn’t realize how strong his adversary was or how powerful his mental powers were even though he spent many sleepless nights analyzing and studying him. He also wondered if Repan’s powers were diminishing the longer he fought.

  Paven gazed around at the mayhem taking place, unhooked the horn hanging loosely at his side, and sounded the retreat. Realizing he wanted to live and fight another day, he spurred his horse into a full gallop, no longer caring for the men who pledged their lives for his cause.

  ****

  On the open planes, Yang saw the silhouetted form of General Paven fast approaching and ordered his troops to press on while he dismounted from his horse and waited off to the side. When the general was within his range, Yang cocked his arm and threw his spear with deadly accuracy, striking the horse in the throat and killing the mare, sending its rider sailing through the air. Meanwhile, Paven never knew what had happened. One minute, he was riding on top of the horse toward freedom and the next he was sent headlong through the air and knocked senseless when he hit the ground. Yang retrieved his weapon and began walking toward his opponent.

  “Come on, General, you can’t be dead yet,” he grinned. When Paven stirred, he continued. “I’ll wait for you to get up before we have some real fun.”

  General Paven staggered to his feet and unsheathed his short sword. His head throbbed, muscles ached, and his vision was skewed when he saw the deadly spearman standing there in triplets. He heard his men’s dying cries as they were being butchered.

  Yang laughed in delight. “That was a nice try attacking our home, but you do realize you really never stood a chance?” He paused. “My master wants to meet the man who boldly attacked his home. And believe me, you’re going to have fun.”

  Yang was clearly insane—Paven knew that much. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs and restore his vision. Yang savored this type of fight, Paven knew, because he didn’t have to kill his opponent, just wound him enough for capture. Yang would toy with him as a cat would do to a mouse. “General, are you ready?”

  Paven’s mind cleared. “I am going to kill you.” He gritted his teeth and attacked.

  Lunge after lunge, slash after slash, Paven tried to score a hit on his opponent, but each time Yang pushed aside his blade and then jabbed him in various places, drawing thick blood each time. Paven stepped back after he was struck for the seventh time, realizing the man was playing with him.

  “General, you’re no match for me,” Yang simply said. “Now it’s my turn.”

  The spearman twirled his spear around and attacked Paven. First he pierced his left leg, then the right, and staggered the general, causing him to stumble backward in pain. Yang allowed him to regain his footing
before striking him in his sword arm with such precision that the spear tore through his chainmail and pierced his muscle, paralyzing the limb temporarily. Paven’s sword fell helplessly to the ground, prompting Ying to attack again. This time he worked on his left arm, chest, and stomach, skillfully piecing his flesh while purposely missing every vital organ. Eventually, Paven dropped to his knees, gasping for air. Yang stopped and waited for him to regain his breath in order to speak.

  Paven looked into his eyes. “Please kill me,” he begged.

  “Kill you? I don’t think so. You plotted this for many years, and my master wants to reward you for your hard work.” Yang kicked him in the chest and laughed after he fell backward onto his back.

  A few minutes later, Ying and his troops caught up to Yang.

  “Brother, you’re so lucky,” Ying said as he looked down on Paven. “I wanted to fight the general. Next time you’d better let me do so or else.”

  “He wasn’t very skillful,” Yang responded and they laughed together.

  Paven saw a fallen dagger nearby and wanted to grab it and plunge the weapon in his throat, but his muscles wouldn’t allow it.

  “Let’s get going,” Ying said and ordered his men to kill the rest of the prisoners. He then turned to the injured man. “Good night, General.”

  One of his bodyguards whacked him in the back of the head and knocked him unconscious.

  ****

  In the weeks that followed Paven’s capture, Repan abused him mentally by having him dream of various things repeatedly. First he searched his mind and collected information about him, using this knowledge to craft scenarios of peace that eventually turned into horror scenes. His favorite was of Paven preparing for the battle against him. Shortly after telling his men to ready the catapults, Repan would shift the dream to the actual fight with always the same outcome. Paven would lose then have to watch his men be butchered. Repan was careful not to take it too far or too long in his dreams. He didn’t want to destroy Paven, just wear him down enough to impose his will. When the time was right, he allowed his subject to rest for the final act.