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

by Charles Carfagno Jr.

  Torhan left the store to the sound of the doors locking securely in place and followed Molech’s instructions until he arrived at his friend’s shop fifteen minutes later.

  The stone building, covered in green and blue ivy, stood out from all the other structures in that row. The front door was crafted from a type of oak he’d never seen before, the steel handles were in the shape of a lion’s paw, and the large beveled windows flanking the door gave the interior a warm invitation from the outside. It just didn’t belong here, he thought. Torhan proceeded up to the door and rapped several times with the large dragonhead knocker. The last knock produced a thick smoke from the mouth and nostrils of the dragon. Amused, he chuckled and patiently waited. A few seconds later, he heard someone approaching from the other side and a small window in the center of the door opened.

  “Who is it?” a deep voice from inside asked.

  “I’m in need of some special items.”

  “We don’t have any, now go away!” the person responded and firmly sealed the tiny window shut.

  Torhan knocked until the little window opened again.

  “Go away, I said.”

  “Molech sent me,” Torhan said before he had a chance to close the window again.

  “Who?”

  “Molech.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” The tiny window closed, the door unlocked, and then it opened.

  A short, portly man, using a cane to support his twisted and deteriorating body, received him. What surprised Torhan the most was that his deep voice did not match his stature.

  “Come in, come in, my name is Tomal, and I am pleased Molech the Great has sent you. Do tell him I said so.”

  Tomal led his guest through the store and asked him to wait in front of the counter. Torhan glanced about and was quite pleased with this store. It was far different from the last; well lit, the items were neatly stacked on the shelves, and the area was clean.

  “Now what can I bring you, my good man?” Tomal asked after he walked behind the counter, closed the partition, and faced him.

  “I would like to see some of your special items.”

  “Special items you say. I have many unique items, so what do you want?”

  “Do you have any rings?”

  “Why, yes, I do.” Tomal turned around, pulled a box down from the shelf, and began rummaging through its contents. “Let’s see. I have one of protection, two of armor, one of skill, and one of weapons.”

  “Do you have one of warmth?” Torhan asked and immediately thought back to when he was a child and how he almost froze to death on his family’s annual hunting trip.

  “Warmth you say...Hmm, those items are usually gone this time of the year.” Tomal rubbed his chin and then snapped his bony fingers together. “Wait a minute I might have one left upstairs. I’ll be right back.”

  He walked away, leaving Torhan alone with the coffer. As tempting as it was, Torhan ignored the overwhelming urge to seize the box and leave, because something didn’t feel right. It felt as if eyes were watching him from somewhere in the store. A short time later, Tomal came back down the stairs.

  “You’re in good fortune today, my friend. I remembered that I had one in my collection, and since Molech sent you, it’s yours. Normally, I wouldn’t even go through the trouble of looking, but any associate of Molech’s is a friend of mine.” Tomal grinned from ear to ear and handed over the ring. “Have you ever worn one?”

  Torhan shook his head and placed the ring on his middle finger of his left hand. Immediately, the band emitted warmth that coursed its way from his finger to the back of his hand, adjacent fingers, up his arm, over his chest and shoulders, his head, down the other arm, and finally the entire length of his lower body until it reached his toes. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “This feels great.”

  “I knew that you’d like it. Think about it, my boy, you’ll be able to withstand freezing temperatures even without wearing clothes.”

  Torhan smiled. “How much did you want for it?”

  “Normally the item goes for five thousand gold pieces, but for you… umm,” Tomal scratched his head, “one thousand.”

  “That’s a bit steep, how much for the protection ring?”

  “The Ring of Protection. Good choice. I’ve witnessed firsthand how the ring works. While wearing it, you can withstand many blows from blunt weapons.”

  “Really?”

  “I was hit several times with a staff and didn’t feel a thing. I can give it to you for five thousand, which is a bargain because I sell them for ten.”

  “Let me think about it.” Glancing about, his eyes rested upon one item, in particular. “What about the dagger with the fancy scabbard over there?” He pointed above Tomal’s head.

  Tomal shifted his eyes toward the item. “I’m sorry, that piece is priceless, so I don’t think you can afford it.”

  “What’s so special about it?”

  “Let’s just say it’s enchanted.”

  “What sort of enchantment does it have?”

  “If you throw the dagger it will return to the owner. Pretty handy if you’re in a fight.”

  “That would be great to have. What can I offer you?”

  “I said it’s priceless.”

  “Everything has a price.”

  “Well if I had to put one on it…I guess I could let it go for one hundred thousand gold pieces.”

  “I’ll be back someday when I have the money,” Torhan confidently said and opted for the Ring of Warmth.

  “Great, do you want to wear the item or shall I wrap it?”

  ****

  Torhan left the store with his newfound item on his finger, feeling warm and comfortable as he walked through the streets. However, that would all change by the time he reached the inn, because he started feeling woozy and weak-legged. Sensing he might pass out, he quickly made his way upstairs, entered his room, stumbled onto the bed, and fell asleep within seconds.

  When he awoke, he felt tired, weak, nauseous, disoriented, and struggled to rise. He pushed through his discomfort and realized that he started feeling sick soon after he placed the ring on his finger, so he removed it. A few minutes later, he began to feel better and decided that maybe he should wear the ring in smaller increments until he adjusted to its abilities. When he was ready, he got up. As he was changing into his leather armor, he noticed something on the dresser that wasn’t there the night before. It was the scabbard and dagger from Tomal’s store. “How is this possible?” he murmured and searched through his memories. The last thing he’d remembered was entering his room and hitting the bed. His mind raced for an answer. He wondered if he had returned to the store and stole it or did someone place it here, but whom? Molech knew he went into the store, but why would he do something like this? He needed answers, so he grabbed the item and left the room. Nervously, he walked the length of the hallway, down the steps, and out the door, all the while without making eye contact with anyone.

  ****

  Torhan retraced his footsteps with haste toward Tomal’s store. He needed to find out what happened and how the weapon ended up in his room. As he turned onto the store’s street, he stopped abruptly when he saw several guards moving in and out of the store. He wondered what they were doing and moved behind a nearby building, just out of the men’s sight, to observe them from afar. After a few minutes, he realized they were doing some kind of investigation.

  “Was I right about Alaric’s store?” someone said from behind, startling him.

  Torhan quickly turned around and was surprised to see Molech. “What?”

  “Alaric’s store, did you think his stuff was junk?”

  “Do you know what’s going on in Tomal’s store?”

  Molech walked past him and peered around the wall. “I do. A couple of nights ago, someone killed the old fool and stole some items. The guards are openly questioning everyone in town and not letting anyone leave. I feel bad for the person they find, because the last time there was a slayi
ng, the guards threw the guilty bastard into a cell and threw away the key.”

  “A couple of nights ago? I was just there last night.” Torhan was confused.

  Molech looked back at him. “No, you weren’t, I met you the other night.”

  “Do they have any suspects?” Torhan asked, changing the subject.

  “No, not yet, but I am sure they will soon. Did you go to his store and find anything of interest?”

  “Just a Ring of Warmth.”

  “Good, that should keep you warm throughout your journeys. Be careful though, because at first, you might feel woozy or drained, but the feeling will subside in time. Did you happen to see the dagger and scabbard on the wall?”

  Torhan’s heart sank, but he kept his composure. “I did, but he said the item was too valuable to sell.”

  “I should say so. Too bad he wasn’t wearing it, because the scabbard would’ve warned him of anyone clearly intending on harming him.”

  “How so?” Torhan asked.

  “The scabbard itself is what’s special and can sense danger and alert the owner by glowing green. The nearer the physical danger comes, the more intense the color glows, that way the owner can judge just how close his foes are. That’s one of its powers; the other is even better. Once an ordinary dagger is placed inside of the sheath, it becomes enchanted and will lash out on its own when someone, or something, intends to harm the owner. The blade will protect the owner until it is utterly destroyed or the enchantment drains away.”

  “How does the blade do that?”

  Molech smiled and proceeded. “It will fight as if you yourself wielded the weapon, so in a sense your enemy will face two opponents. Even if you’re sleeping or unconscious the scabbard will protect the possessor. Maybe the next owner of the building will sell it to you. So what happened after you left the store?”

  “After I purchased the ring, I went straight back to my room.”

  “Did you see anyone else enter after you?”

  “No, I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “If you hear of anything, please contact the guards. He was a good friend of mine. I have to go. We’ll meet again, Torhan,” Molech suddenly said and left.

  On his way back to his room, Torhan slowed and eventually stopped to ponder his discussion with Molech. He had a sneaky feeling Molech knew who killed the owner and that he was now in possession of the scabbard. What was really strange was that Molech used his name when they parted. He didn’t remember telling him, so how would he have known? Suddenly, he felt scared and alone, wishing Jacko would arrive soon.

  The loud sound of jolly people lifting tankards and singing folklore songs greeted Torhan as he entered the inn. Never one to participate in such events, he walked toward the back of the room and sat down at a secluded table off to the side. A few minutes later, a beautiful redhead walked over and asked him what he wanted to eat. After ordering his favorite meal of roasted quail, potatoes, and ale, he continued to think about what occurred over the last couple of days. Nothing made sense to him. Why would someone murder Tomal and place the scabbard in his room? Did Molech set him up? And if so, why? He didn’t have any enemies that he knew of and only one person knew that he was going to Tomal’s, but why would Molech go through all the trouble of killing his friend, planting the scabbard in his room, and framing him? What could he gain? Why not keep the item if it was that powerful? Torhan was still lost in thoughts when his meal arrived and only noticed after the serving wench placed the tankard down in front of him. He acknowledged her actions with a nod and consumed the meal. After he finished, he rose from the chair and made his way upstairs. He’d just cleared the top landing when a few guards entered the inn.

  “Everyone, sit down. No one is allowed to leave,” an officer instructed.

  People started doing as they were ordered, while Torhan quickly walked down the hallway, entered his room, and barred the door shut. He unsheathed his sword blade and sat on the bed, clutching the weapon so tight his knuckles turned white. He was scared and never was involved in anything like this before. From below, he heard one of the guards shout orders for everyone upstairs to come downstairs. He pulled out the scabbard, and as he was deciding on what to do with it, someone knocked loudly on his door.

  “Sir, please come down. Tesserarius Robars needs to talk to everyone,” a female said through the door.

  Torhan left the scabbard on the bed and opened the door. “What is it?”

  “Tesserarius Robars needs to speak with you.”

  “Very well, tell him I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  She nodded and left.

  Torhan bolted the door again and was about to hide the scabbard when he heard a loud noise outside on the balcony. Suddenly, the scabbard illuminated a light greenish glow. Torhan secured the item around his arm, unsheathed his sword, and carefully walked toward the balcony. He could feel his heart pounding with each passing step as he crept closer toward the opening. As he was about to step out onto the terrace, someone pounded on the door.

  “Whoever is inside open up. I need to ask you some questions,” a male’s voice sternly shouted from the other side.

  The scabbard’s glow intensified, and Torhan wasn’t sure where the threat was coming from. The door handle rattled forcefully.

  “We know someone is in there, so open up.” The guard used his weight to pound on the door. “If you’re not coming out, then we’re coming in.” He slammed into the door again and it began to give way under the weight.

  Torhan knew that he was trapped and elected to face whatever waited for him on the balcony. He ran onto the terrace and was immediately seized by someone from behind who wrapped their arm around his neck and disarmed him with ease.

  “Quiet,” the voice whispered into his ear.

  The door splintered and began to give way as the guards continued to force their way in.

  “Climb up,” the man ordered and released his grip.

  Torhan turned around, and, instead of seeing someone there, he found a rope leading up to the roof. Without another thought, he climbed to the top and saw a masked stranger crouching in front of him. “Pull the rope up,” he ordered.

  As Torhan was in the process of retrieving the rope, the door splintered apart and the guards entered the room.

  “Get down and don’t make a sound,” the masked stranger whispered. Torhan did as he was told.

  They heard the guards searching the room and then enter the balcony.

  “It’s too high to climb up, so he must have jumped down,” one of the guards stated. After several heart-pounding seconds, they finally left the room.

  “Get up,” the stranger said after he heard them leave.

  “Who are you?” Torhan asked, brushing off the snow from his clothes.

  “A friend, that’s all you need to know for now.” The stranger handed back his blade. “Follow me. A mutual associate would like to see you.”

  They scurried west across the rooftops until they came to one they could easily climb down. Safely on the ground, the stranger led him through a number of streets until they arrived at one of the most beautiful buildings Torhan had ever seen in his life. The structure was four floors high, made of an unusual dark stone, had at least a dozen windows across the front, and several large pillars supporting the gray shingle roof.

  “Who lives here?” Torhan asked.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” the stranger said and walked up to the large bronze door and waved his hand in several different directions until he heard a click, then he pushed the door open.

  As soon as they entered the hallway, the masked stranger told Torhan to wait where he was and walked into the room ahead. Torhan waited patiently for many minutes before disregarding his command and walking straight through the entranceway and into a large room. Stairs on both sides led up to a common landing and continued down another hallway. To the far back of the room sat two sofas, facing each other, that could easily seat five adults each, and directly be
hind the sofas was a large hearth with a fire burning brightly. Above the fireplace was an oversized portrait of a dark-skinned man with long flowing jet-black hair, a short beard, and a scar across his cheek. Wearing gold armor, holding a silver war hammer in his left hand, and a black spiked shield in the other, the man posed proudly on a battlefield. Dead bodies were scattered about, many of which lay at his feet. Torhan thought something was odd about the picture and decided to take a closer look. As he moved toward the portrait, he could have sworn the warrior’s eyes were moving along with him. As soon as he was a foot away from the picture, the fighter turned his head and came to life. The figure lowered his weapon, shield, stared directly into his eyes, and then spoke. “What is your name, stranger?”

  His voice caused Torhan to take an unsteady step backward in disbelief.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the figure said.

  Torhan was about to answer him when he heard a pleasant voice somewhere from behind him say his name. In the next instant, he found himself standing back at the entranceway of the room instead of at the foot of the painting. Puzzled by what had just happened, he stared ahead for a few more seconds before shifting his attention toward the stairs.

  A tall, clean-shaven, burly man, wearing a red tunic, brown pants, and black boots led several men down the flight of stairs on the right. His features resembled that of an older version of the person in the picture. Following him was the stranger who led Torhan here, and two Hurnol wearing leather armor, leggings, and carrying large six-foot battle axes. He’d never seen the half-human half-goat creatures before, and, like the Chatar, no one knew where they originated from.

  “I am Grappin,” the burly man said as soon as he landed on the first floor.