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

by Charles Carfagno Jr.

  “My children, Jonah is now blessed.”

  The crowd cheered as he was led away to the back room. More people began calling out to be next.

  The priest quieted them down. “I can only bless an individual once a day,” he said and began preaching the final part of his sermon, which lasted a few more hours.

  When Priest Abiathar was finished, he told his followers to go forth, spread the word, and practice with weapons.

  After they were filing out of the church, Torhan approached the cleric, who was in the process of walking toward the back of the room.

  “Priest Abiathar, can you spare a moment of your time?” Torhan asked.

  The priest paused and turned around. “Ah, yes, the person whom I’ve never seen before. Please step closer, my child.”

  As he did, Torhan noticed the outline of two trapdoors on the stage.

  “Now, what can I do for you?” Abiathar asked.

  Torhan quickly adverted eyes back to him before the priest discovered what he was looking at. “I have some questions about your sermon.”

  “Go ahead, my son.”

  “The demon Dybbuk, what can you tell me about him?”

  Priest Abiathar smiled. “Why do you want to know?”

  “In case I come across him in my travels.”

  “His story would take some time, so I will give you the shortened version. Dybbuk entered our town a few years ago and wanted to enslave every man, woman, and child. At that time, we had no defenses against such a foe, so I made the ultimate sacrifice and made a pact with my god to save the town. He responded by granting me adequate power to banish this demon. He also offered the town further protection if we were willing to make a sacrifice every month for five years.”

  Torhan didn’t like what he was hearing. “What sort of a sacrifice, a person or an animal?”

  “What do you think I am a killer?” His tone had a bite to it. “Every month someone must offer up their soul to him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like Jonah did. They must offer up their undying loyalty to him. Only then will he bless them and deliver skills to me.”

  “I see. What sort of a power does he grant you?”

  The priest grinned. “Let’s just say it’s of the divine right. You won’t be able to understand, so that is all I am going to say.”

  One of Abiathar’s acolytes entered from the backroom, walked up to the priest, whispered something in his ear, and left.

  “I apologize, but I must be going. Why don’t you come back tonight, and we’ll talk some more?”

  Torhan nodded.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Torhan.”

  “It was really nice meeting you, Torhan,” the priest said and left.

  There was something odd about this whole setup, but Torhan couldn’t put his finger on it. He pondered several things as he left the temple. First, there was his power to stop Dybbuk or keep him at bay. Second, there was the strange sacrifice the people had to make to his god—from what he knew only evil gods required such an act. Then, there was the illusion of the thieves disappearing, when, in fact, they must have fallen through the trapdoors. Maybe in time the truth would reveal itself.

  ****

  Torhan decided to pay Killington’s armory a visit and arrived a short time later. The two-story stone building with two windows on each floor was set back off the main road. The path leading up to the building was clean and well kept with an abundance of pretty flowers and shrubs leading up to the door, which proudly displayed a flowered wreath. The building reminded him of a cottage he always dreamed about and wanted to live in when he was old and gray. Smiling, he entered.

  Inside, various types of armor and weapons were on display, while a lone figure worked behind the counter in the back. Torhan took his time looking at the items and one piece of armor, in particular, caught his eye. It was from the chainmail family and had a combination of black and gold links interwoven in a diagonal pattern. The matching chainmail coif was on another stand next to it. He’d never seen such an unusual piece before and knew immediately he wanted it.

  “That’s a good choice,” the clerk said and approached.

  “What’s it made of?” Torhan asked without taking his eyes off the item.

  “A new material called titanium. It’s supposed to be the strongest material known to man. A blacksmith named Yarn crafted this suit. If you’re interested, and have a few minutes, I’ll show just how impenetrable the material is.”

  “I’m very interested.” Torhan turned around and faced a short, stocky, balding fellow.

  “Good! By the way, I am Killington, and you are?” He extended his forearm.

  “My name is Torhan.” Torhan reached out and both men clasped forearms.

  “Glad to meet you, Torhan.” Killington turned his head back toward the storeroom. “Mekel, come out.”

  “Coming!” a loud voice answered.

  “While we’re waiting for my son, take a look around and let me know if anything else catches your fancy.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Torhan was just about to walk away when Mekel appeared. He was a tall, strapping, young man, not more than twenty, with a physique that looked like he could crush a giant.

  “Yes, father?” Mekel asked.

  “This gentleman would like to see how strong this piece of armor is.” Killington pointed to the display.

  “Right away,” he said and removed the armor from the dummy, then walked toward the back of the store, grabbing a regular chainmail shirt off another table on his way out.

  “Give him a couple of minutes,” Killington said and left.

  Torhan wandered around the store until Killington returned and asked him to come with him through the back. They took a flight of stairs down into a large training area enclosed by a fence with no roof. There were weapons, armor, practice dummies, straw hay bales, and wooden poles, all of which were used for testing Killington’s wares.

  Mekel had just finished taking weapons out and walked over carrying the chainmail. “Father, we are ready.”

  “Now give our guest a demonstration,” Killington said.

  “Sir, what’s your name?” Mekel asked.

  “My name is Torhan.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. Here, catch!” Mekel threw him a silver chainmail shirt. “Try to pull the armor apart,” he said.

  Torhan did as he was asked. Even with the gauntlets providing additional strength, he was still unable to rip the links apart.

  “Now give it back to me,” Mekel said.

  Torhan handed it to him and Mekel grabbed it by the ends and proceeded to pull the armor apart with ease. Torhan had never seen such a feat of strength before. Mekel dropped the useless armor to the ground and took hold of the titanium shirt. He pulled the armor in opposite directions, but the links didn’t budge. Torhan was a bit suspicious and thought it could be a game they were playing just to sell it to him.

  Mekel saw the look on his face. “Take hold of one end, and I’ll take hold of the other,” he said.

  Torhan did as he was asked and braced his footing firmly.

  “Ready?” Mekel said, and Torhan nodded.

  Together they tugged and neither man, nor armor, gave way until Mekel pulled the armor free from Torhan’s hands. Mekel held forth the armor to show him that the links were still fastened tightly and handed it to him.

  “Impressive,” Torhan finally said after he inspected the armor.

  “We’re not done yet,” Killington added, “Mekel, show him just how protective this armor is.”

  Mekel grabbed the armor, walked to the far end of the area, dressed a dummy in the chainmail, and came back.

  “Torhan,” Killington began, “here are some arrows. Feel free to shoot as many as you like into the dummy.”

  Torhan released his bow from across his back and notched an arrow. After looking at the owner for his approval, he began firing them at the armor. Upon impact, the
y fell away helplessly.

  “Are you impressed?” Killington asked.

  “Very,” Torhan responded.

  Killington nodded to Mekel, and he walked over to the dummy and placed the armor on his body. “I’m ready, father.”

  “Go hit him with your sword,” Killington said.

  Torhan looked at him like he was crazy. Killington encouraged him with several nods, and Torhan obliged by unsheathing his weapon.

  “Torhan, use this one instead,” Killington said and offered him a long sword. “I don’t want you to ruin your blade.”

  Torhan took the weapon, tested the weapon for strength, and ran his hand across the blade, feeling the sharpness. Satisfied, he walked over to Mekel.

  “Are you ready?” Torhan asked.

  Mekel nodded, and Torhan began slashing and stabbing the armor. The big fellow neither flinched nor made any attempt to move away. When Torhan was finished, Mekel took the armor off, and, to Torhan’s surprise, there wasn’t a scratch or nick on him.

  “How much?” Torhan said in amazement.

  “Let’s go inside and make a deal,” Killington said gleefully.

  While Mekel was getting them refreshments in the cellar, Killington and Torhan sat in the backroom.

  “Torhan, you’re not from around here are you?” Killington asked.

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “It’s your accent, where are you from?”

  “I’m from a town just southwest of here called Wistful, have you heard of it?”

  “I have but never met anyone from there before. So what brings you to Mirkin?”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “A man would have to be either foolish or brave to travel through the forest just west of here.”

  Torhan was growing uncomfortable with his questioning and placed both arms on the wooden table to help hide his discomfort.

  “What I meant was if you’re capable of making the trek alone, then you must have some real fighting skills.”

  “And your point?” Torhan said flatly.

  “I have a proposition that might be worth your time. The blacksmith Yarn has a hidden mine somewhere toward the north. I would like you to locate it for me.”

  “Why?” Torhan detected a hint of jealously and greed in his tone.

  “Because if I could get my hands on the precious metal, then I can craft armor on my own and offer a wider variety of items for a fraction of the cost.”

  Before Torhan could respond, Mekel walked in carrying a canister, filled their goblets to the brim with ale, and sat them down in front of the two men. Torhan nodded in appreciation and drank the smooth tasting liquid, which soothed his parched throat. After he finished, he asked for a refill without hesitation, and Mekel poured him some more.

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Travel north to Yarn’s establishment and find out the location of the mineshaft. If you do this for me, and bring back proof, I’ll sell you the armor for the same price I paid for it, which was two thousand gold pieces.”

  “How much are you selling it for?”

  “Fifteen thousand gold pieces.”

  “Let me think about it. I have to go.” Torhan took another swig and stood up.

  “Torhan, you’re not going to find armor of this quality for that price.”

  Torhan smiled. “It seems like you need me more than I need the armor.” He took a step.

  “Okay, how about we make a deal, then?” Killington replied out of desperation.

  Torhan was leery about making deals, especially after the most recent one, but it never hurt to listen.

  “What’s the deal?” he asked.

  “Get me what I need, and I’ll give you the armor and make you an item of your choice.”

  “Sounds fair, but I’ll need a couple of things first.”

  “What are they?” Killington’s eyes lit up.

  “I require one of your strongest daggers, preferably silver; a score of arrows; and the whereabouts of a girl priest named Katara.”

  “Katara? Why do you want to see her?”

  “That’s my business. Do we have a deal?”

  Now it was Killington’s turn to hesitate, and after weighing his desires for the mineral, he agreed and asked his son to go get the items.

  “What do you know about her?” Torhan asked.

  “She’s one of the town’s healers.”

  “Is that it?”

  “She did study with Priest Abiathar before they had a falling out.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No one does, so you’ll have to ask her. Her cottage is in the western part of town. It has a wooden sign above the door displaying a pair of hands in a healing manner on top of someone’s chest. My son will take you there when you’re ready.”

  Mekel returned and handed Torhan the quiver full of arrows and the silver dagger, which he placed in the scabbard. Torhan went about replacing the feathers of some of the arrows with the leaves from the forest, while Killington and his son watched in bewilderment but didn’t bother asking him what he was doing. When he finished, Torhan had five demon-slaying arrows and placed them back into the quiver.

  “I’ll bring you back the information you asked for as soon as I take care of some business. Mekel, are you ready?” he asked the fellow.

  Mekel nodded and they left.

  ****

  Along the way to Katara’s cottage, Mekel expressed an interest that someday he would like to leave Mirkin and go on an exciting quest. With Brother Sao gone, Torhan decided to ask if he wanted to join him.

  “Mekel, how would you feel about accompanying me when I leave?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “In a couple of days, I will be traveling northwest to a town called Snowdrift. There’s a little girl who has fallen into a deep sleep, and I need to find out why. They say an ancient item called REM can awaken her, but no one knows where it is hidden.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “I’ll give you fifty gold pieces a day, and we’ll split any treasure that we find.”

  “Let me think…”

  Torhan’s eyes were fixed forward. When Mekel didn’t finish his sentence, Torhan turned and saw him enshrouded in the same grayish hue he experienced back in the cave. The grayness was coming at him from all directions until it engulfed him.

  “Chromos Lords!” he gasped, stiffened his body, and didn’t move a muscle.

  The scabbard began glowing right away, faintly at first, then stronger the longer he remained motionless. Suddenly, two cloaked figures, at each end of the street, emerged from out of the shadows and began killing everyone in their path. Torhan looked at Mekel, then at the street to his left.

  There were just too many, and there was no way to save Mekel, he thought and ran down the alleyway.

  Before he could reach the far end, another Chromos Lord stepped directly in front of him and sliced a few frozen people in between them. Torhan knew there was no escaping him and unsheathed his blade.

  “Give it to me,” the Chromos Lord spoke in an eerie tone as he killed another hapless victim frozen in time.

  “Give you what?” Torhan responded.

  The Chromos Lord ignored his question and inched his way closer. “Give me that trinket, human,” he sneered. “You should not be able to resist our powers,” he hissed.

  As Torhan moved backward, the Chromos Lord suddenly lunged forward with lighting speed, catching him off guard, and slashing him across the stomach. The ferocious strike happened so fast the scabbard didn’t react until the maneuver was completed, and when it was, the silver dagger left its home and became frozen in time. Torhan stumbled into a wall, looked down, and saw the chain links split apart and colored crimson with his blood. The Chromos Lord rushed forward to end his life but was careless and didn’t anticipate Torhan sidestepping the attack while thrusting his sword forward. As a result, the keeper of time ran himself through and died after coughing up some blood. Alon
g with his death, time resumed in the alley, his snake-shaped sword turned to dust, and Torhan’s silver dagger stabbed him in the head a few times before returning to the sheath. Screams of horror erupted from the nearby alleyways. Torhan removed his sword from the dead man’s stomach and was about to leave when he heard someone shout from behind.

  “Hey, you, stop!”

  Guards poured in from both ends and closed in rapidly.

  “You’re under arrest,” one of them said.

  “For what?” Torhan snapped back.

  “For the death of that man,” he pointed to the body at Torhan’s feet, “as well as all of those innocent people just a street away.”

  “I didn’t do it. This man and his friends did,” Torhan pleaded.

  “You can tell it to the magistrate.”

  Several of the guards produced chains, of various lengths, and closed in.

  The scabbard glowed dark green, and the dagger launched itself and attacked the guards. Some of the guards fearfully backed away, while others did their best to parry the weapon.

  Torhan’s options were limited, either fight his way out this mess or end up in jail. With no intention of the latter, he decided to attack the smaller lot of guards and escape. Despite being the much more skillful fighter, he was overwhelmed because of the number of guards and received many cuts across his arms and legs.

  After the third guard fell, a burly giant of a man lowered his shoulder and rammed him from behind, sending him flying into the wall ten feet away. The impact left Torhan dazed and confused.

  One of the other guards gave chase, wanting to end his life. He was about to succeed when the scabbard, sensing that its master was in danger, commanded the dagger to strike down the assailant, which it did when the blade ripped through his throat.

  The other guards closed in to avenge their fallen brother and were immediately met by the dagger, which kept them at bay long enough for Torhan to regain his footing and his senses. He was about to run in the other direction when the giant guard saw the dagger fighting three others. The giant pushed through them, grabbed Torhan, hoisted him high into the air, and slammed him down onto the ground like a rag doll, knocking the wind out of his body. In response, the dagger flew toward the husky guard, but it was intercepted by another guard, who parried the weapon several times before it found its mark and struck him in the head, becoming lodged in his skull. The big guard quickly grabbed Torhan’s right arm, placed one knee on his neck, and extended the limb, snapping it in two. Torhan winced in pain.