The ghastly scene made Katara turn away and almost retch up her dinner. After she regained her composure, she looked back into the room just as one of the acolytes walked over and opened the door to the cellar.
A few seconds later a strange-looking black imp hobbled into the room and over to the table. The creature began consuming the man’s flesh until it morphed into an exact replica of him. The scene, coupled with her nausea, was too much for her. When Katara turned away, she lost her balance and fell off the ledge, banging her head on the ground when she landed.
After Torhan left the jail, he was determined to disable the wards and disappear from the city by morning, so he made haste toward the temple. Given the time of evening, it was easy for him to avoid the guards who patrolled the streets. However, after he arrived, his first obstacle laid before him in the form of two armed priests standing by the door. He had an idea as to how he was going to gain an audience with the priest and moved rather quickly toward the doors. The priests stepped forward and blocked his way.
“The temple is closed,” one of them said.
“I need to see Priest Abiathar. It’s important.”
The guard moved his cape aside so that Torhan could see his spiked mace hanging from his belt.
“The temple is closed for the evening,” the other guard said. His tone was firm and authoritative.
“You don’t understand, I need to see him because he’s in grave danger.” Torhan pleaded to emphasize just how dire the situation was.
The guards looked at him suspiciously.
“You should leave.” The guard gripped his mace in a threatening gesture.
“Please, I need to see him. I just uncovered a plot to kill him. You have to do something besides stand here.”
“We are more than capable of guarding him.”
“You don’t get it. He will be dead by morning, and you’ll be to blame.”
“Look, fool, we are not waking his holiness for you or anyone else.” The guard looked in disgust at Torhan.
“There’s an assassin in the area that wants him dead,” Torhan said.
Both guards looked at him, then at each other.
“What’s your name?” the guard on the right asked.
“My name is Torhan.”
“Wait here.” The guard opened the door and slipped inside.
“You had better be telling us the truth,” the other warned.
A few minutes later, Priest Abiathar emerged with the guard right behind him.
“What’s the meaning of this intrusion?” he asked, looking directly at Torhan.
“You’re in grave danger, and me standing here puts us both at risk. Can I come in and talk to you?”
“You’re the person I met earlier, aren’t you?” Torhan nodded. “If you leave your weapons here with my acolytes, you may enter.”
Torhan agreed and was led down a series of corridors until they arrived at a set of double doors with four acolytes guarding the entrance. They stepped aside when they saw Priest Abiathar and closed the doors once he and Torhan were inside. Torhan was asked to sit at the table in the far back so that they could talk privately.
Once seated, Priest Abiathar spoke, “Now, young man, what’s this about?”
Torhan spoke directly. “There is a person named Grappin who wants you dead.”
“I’ve never heard of anyone by that name before, so why would he want me dead?”
“He says you killed his family.”
“Let me ask you something. How did you acquire such information?”
Before he could answer, the door burst opened and three armed and very dangerous looking men entered the room. Abiathar quickly held his hand up, halting their progress.
“News travels fast about the possibility of an assassin. So let me ask you and don’t lie to me. Are you the assassin?”
The guards drew their maces.
“Not anymore.”
“Not anymore?”
The guards were about to pounce on him when the priest held up his hand again.
“Please explain yourself.”
Torhan told him the events that happened in Mirkin and how he felt that he was framed and forced into his current situation. When he mentioned the forest and Lord Sim’s people, Priest Abiathar’s eyes lit up and he interrupted him.
“Ah, Lord Sim, now that is someone I do know. Go on, my son.”
Torhan continued. As he mentioned the Tree Spirit, Ailith, and how she revealed Grappin’s true nature, Abiathar murmured her name.
“Do you know her?” Torhan asked.
“I’ve heard of her.” He paused. “Tell me about what she meant by true nature?”
“She said Grappin was a demon.”
“Did she now?”
“Yes, and I have no intention of helping him.”
“Then let me ask you something. What do you hope to accomplish by telling me all this information?”
“I think he has you all wrong and wanted me to murder an innocent man. I can’t do that.”
The priest grinned. “If he is a demon, you do know what will happen if you don’t fulfill his wishes, don’t you?” Abiathar paused. “Wouldn’t it be easier to kill me?”
“It would, but I can’t.”
“Interesting predicament, don’t you think? So again, I’ll ask, what is your plan, to hide in here and hope he grows weary and leaves? Or…wait…I have a better idea, I could disable the wards, and together we can kill him,” the priest leaned back and said almost jokingly.
“If I told you that I have an item that could expose him to mortal weapons, could I stay here for the night?”
Priest Abiathar looked surprised for the first time. “You can, but first, tell me what you have.”
“I need my items, and I’ll show you.”
Priest Abiathar nodded to his guard, who left and returned a few minutes later with his wares. Torhan got up, under their watchful eye, grabbed the quiver of arrows, and removed one. He then offered it to Abiathar, and just as he was about to grab the shaft, he pulled his hand back suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” Torhan asked.
“I almost forgot; it’s against my order to touch projectile weapons.”
Torhan could tell it was something more by the expression on his face.
“If you have a weapon to deal with him, then why are you here?” Abiathar asked bluntly, his demeanor quickly changing.
“Like I said, I’m here to warn you that Grappin is trying to kill you, and I may not be the only one he sent.”
“What do you mean?”
“He has a couple of trained assassins working with him.”
“I’m in no danger from him or any other person. My God has bestowed in me the adequate power to keep demons at bay or destroy them if I like. And my men are quite capable of handling anyone else he might be traveling with.” He paused and shifted his body, “Plus, my men are immune to demons.”
“Immune? So that’s why he needs me to dispose of you, because he cannot get close enough to do it himself,” Torhan said, realizing why he was here to do Dybbuk’s dirty work.
The priest grinned. “No, he can’t, and even if he did penetrate my defenses, he will fail.”
“May I have sanctuary for the night?”
“Yes, but you must stay in your room. Do you understand?”
Torhan nodded.
“I have to go. One of my acolytes will take you to your room.”
Torhan waited a couple of hours before attempting to leave his room. When he opened his door, he found the hallway empty. He was prepared to do whatever was necessary if he encountered any resistance. He gathered his items and left.
He was halfway down the hall when an acolyte came running toward him. At first, he thought maybe he was going to send him back to his room, but, by the look on his face, he knew differently.
“You need to come quickly. Priest Abiathar needs you.”
Torhan followed him downstairs to the basement. When he arrived
, he saw Abiathar talking to several guards. Torhan knew something was wrong by the way he was speaking with them. After the priest finished addressing his men, he walked over.
“It appears you weren’t lying after all. Someone is trying to deactivate some of my wards. My acolytes are checking them as we speak,” Abiathar said.
“I’m here to help anyway I can.”
“Good.”
A few minutes later, another acolyte came running into the room and whispered something into the priest’s ear.
Priest Abiathar looked at Torhan and said, “Several of our key wards have been breached.”
“Did any of your men see who did it?” Torhan asked.
“No, but I’m guessing we’ll find out soon enough. Come with me.”
****
Torhan was led to the main room, where he saw acolytes barricading the vestibule doors and Priest Abiathar’s most trusted guards preparing for a fight. The doors separating the area were next to be sealed, then a handful of guards lined up in front of them.
They were the first line of defense, Torhan thought.
When they were finished, acolytes stood ready in the center of the room with their maces and slings loaded with strange-looking red stones.
Abiathar led Torhan behind the altar. “I sure hope that weapon of yours works,” he said.
Torhan hoped for the same as he silently notched a Demon Slaying arrow.
Outside, something that sounded like a battering ram crashed into the front doors, time and time again, until they gave way. The sound of a fight ensued, which was followed by horrifying screams confirming Abiathar and Torhan’s worst fears.
The priest gave the order for his men to stand ready. After the screams died away, a loud thud pounded against the inner doors. Several acolytes threw their bodies against them for additional support, but Torhan knew it was useless. The doors were struck again. This time, the frame began to crack and give way. Torhan trained the bow at the door and told Abiathar to stay behind him for protection.
After the fifth time, someone shouted on the other side, “RAUM, COME OUT!”
To Torhan, the voice sounded like Grappin’s but somehow different, deeper, and more sinister.
“Who’s Raum?” Torhan asked the priest without taking his eyes away from the door.
“I don’t know,” he quickly answered.
Torhan pulled the bowstring back further.
“STEADY!” the priest shouted to everyone.
The thick doors were struck again, causing dust to fall from the ceiling and the hinges to rattle. After two more times, the doors began to buckle.
Torhan remembered the Ailith’s words and went over them again in his mind:
For the arrow to work, Dybbuk needs to become enraged with you, and then you should be able to draw enough of his negative energy to activate the leaves’ power, thus breaking his invulnerability to mortal weapons.
The doors were hit again, and they finally shattered. A creature standing nearly eight feet tall with scaly, dark skin; large protruding teeth; and claws the size of daggers stared back at them. Grappin’s humanoid remains hung loosely on his form.
The demon must have been hiding inside of Grappin all along and ripped through his outer shell, Torhan thought.
The demon roared and began his violent assault on the two closest guards, ripping through their armor with one swipe of his left claw, then cutting them in half with the other.
The guards released their slings and pelted him with the red stones, but he paid them little mind as they bounced off his thick skin. Dybbuk turned his attention toward the altar. When he saw Torhan pointing his bow in his direction, he became enraged at his betrayal and proceeded toward the religious platform. Along the way, he engaged the remaining guards.
Torhan’s scabbard glowed intensely, and, just as he was about to release the arrow, his silver dagger left the scabbard and flew behind him. His instincts kicked in, and he rolled away, then turned around to witness Abiathar swatting at the dagger.
Torhan thought for a brief moment that the dagger made a rare mistake until the illusion began to disintegrate before his eyes. While defending against the weapon, Abiathar’s body was sliced, cut, and flayed to the point where Torhan could see scaly, red skin underneath. The priest, or whatever it was, continued to swat at the knife until he snatched it out of the air and flung it into a nearby pew, where it became lodged down to the hilt.
The creature looked directly at Dybbuk and began ripping apart Abiathar’s tattered skin like the outer shell of a piece of fruit, revealing a large head with short horns, sharp claws, similar to Dybbuk’s, and a ridged tail. The demon straightened his body to a height of nine feet tall and thrashed his crimson tail back and forth ever so slightly.
Torhan’s dagger revealed who his true enemy was, and he fired the bow at the demon formally disguised as Priest Abiathar. The arrow scored a direct hit to his head but bounced away helplessly. He quickly notched another.
The demon turned his attention and anger toward the pathetic human who dared to attack him like a coward. He roared and began moving toward him with hatred. Torhan waited for his intensity to build before firing another shot. This time, the arrow broke through his defenses and pierced the demon’s shoulder, causing him to lose his balance and fall backward, screaming in pain.
In the next instant, more hideous screams erupted from the front of the church. Torhan turned around and witnessed the other acolytes shred their outer skins as they were entering from the basement. The smaller demons flung themselves at Dybbuk. They were no match for him as they were viciously sliced apart one after the other until they were all dead. He then turned his gaze on Torhan. Fearful, Torhan notched another arrow and pointed it directly at him, but the demon ignored his gesture and looked past him.
“RAUM!” he shouted.
Torhan didn’t notice the red demon standing directly behind him until it was too late. He was struck in the shoulder with a tremendous backhand that sent him flying through the air and slamming hard against the wall, knocking him senseless.
The demon Raum called for the other in a challenging tone. Eyes glowing, Dybbuk stared at his nemesis for only a moment before leaping through the air and landing on top of him. The demons fell backward onto the ground and began rolling around until Raum was hoisted high into the air and thrown against the wall. The intense impact shook the foundation of the cathedral and broke Raum’s right arm and some of the bones along his back.
Dybbuk smiled as he watched his foe rise to his feet and struggle to straighten his crooked form. Seeing the arrow, still protruding from the ugly wound in Raum’s shoulder, broadened Dybbuk’s smile further knowing that Raum was exposed to his environment. Dybbuk knew he never experienced pain of this magnitude before, especially in the place known as the Other.
Raum followed the other’s gaze and grabbed the shaft. Instantly, the arrow turned searing red hot and started burning away his flesh until the pain was unbearable and he released it.
Dybbuk snickered. “Well it appears you’re finished, my old friend,” he said.
Raum quickly surmised that this battle would end with his death if he wasn’t smart enough to outwit Dybbuk, so he held up his good arm, dropped down to his left knee, and pleaded, “Please let me live.”
Dybbuk approached his former comrade. “Would you be so kind?” he hissed.
“Let me live, and I’ll go home and never return. You can rule this world, and the Overlord will be proud of you.”
“You and your bitch have caused me great suffering and almost succeeded in turning my pawn against me. Death is your only release,” Dybbuk said and moved closer.
Raum waited until he was close enough before acting. In one fluid motion, he moved his good arm behind his back, unhooked the flail strapped across his back, and swung the spiked ball at Dybbuk’s head.
At the very last second, Dybbuk raised his right arm and blocked the attack, but, in doing so, caused the chain to wrap a
round his forearm and drive the spikes into his flesh. Raum then jerked the weapon to his left, knocking Dybbuk off balance while freeing the weapon and giving himself enough time to get to his hoofed feet.
In the next instant, Raum swung his deadly weapon with accuracy, hitting Dybbuk in the right shoulder, then left leg, and, finally, his ribs, tearing flesh and sending the demon stumbling backward. Raum pressed his assault with the intention of missing easy targets and drawing Dybbuk’s defenses away from his true mark, his head. The attack was so fast that it would be nothing more than a blur to the human eye.
Meanwhile, Dybbuk’s years of experience told him exactly what he was doing. When he invited his nemesis to swing for his head, he quickly dashed out of harm’s way, causing the heavy spiked ball to slam into the marble floor, cracking the green and blue limestone, sending bits and pieces in all directions. As Dybbuk was closing the distance on his foe, Raum pulled the weapon upward, hitting Dybbuk’s right leg with the shaft part of his weapon, knocking him to the ground.
When Torhan finally regained his wits, he looked over at the demons battling, saw that Raum was winning, and realized that if he didn’t do something to change the outcome, he would die.
Frantically, he looked around until he spotted his bow and quiver not more than a few feet away. As he crawled to retrieve the weapon, his movements didn’t go unnoticed by Raum, who disengaged his fight and lumbered over. The scabbard glowed in response and commanded the dagger to protect its master, which it did by moving frantically back and forth until it wiggled free from the pew and attacked the advancing demon.
Raum noticed something coming at him out of the corner of his eye. As he was turning his head, he was stabbed in the right eye, blinding him and stopping him dead in his tracks, wailing in pain. The dagger swiftly withdrew, along with his eye, from the socket and stabbed and sliced him repeatedly in the body, neck, and head. Raum dropped his weapon and tried to grab the dagger, but his injured eye hampered his perception, and he was quickly becoming a gory mess as blood ran down his red, scaly skin.
A Demon's Quest the Beginning of the End the Trilogy Box Set Page 34
