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

by Charles Carfagno Jr.

  “I have a task for you, my pet.” He paused. “There’s a portal in the north that I want you to go through. It will take you to the place known as the Other. I want you to journey southwest and enter the dense forest and kill anything walking upright.” He paused again. “I also want you to find something in hiding. Do you understand?”

  Dybbuk waited for his pet to acknowledge his order, which he did by retracting his jaw and revealing row upon row of razor-sharp teeth, then he emitted a low growl to the enjoyment of his master’s pointed ears.

  “Good, good.” He walked over to a small hanging cabinet, dispelled the ward, and opened the glass door.

  Inside were many labeled vials that contained the essence of every demon in service to the Overlord. They were given to demons of fifth ranking, or less, as a precaution in case someone decided to overthrow the Overlord and go into hiding. He swore an oath never to use them for his own purposes, and now he was going to break his promise and hunt down a traitor. His need for revenge far outweighed his pledge to the Overlord, and it was a risk he was willing to take.

  He searched through them one at a time until he found one, in particular, and called his pet. Darkener trudged over, and the demon knelt down before him and opened the bottle.

  “I want you to find the owner of this scent and eradicate her.”

  Dybbuk placed the bottle under his snout, so that he could inhale its contents. The beast inhaled and growled.

  “Do not leave the forest until I return. Do you understand?”

  His pet’s eyes turned blood red, and he snarled in gratification. Dybbuk rose, said a few words, and disabled the ward guarding the hidden door. Next, he waved his hand and a low rumble of stone moving upon stone opened the secret doorway.

  “Go now and do as I instructed.”

  Darkener bellowed in delight and ran through the doorway. Dybbuk watched his pet run until he disappeared from view, then he passed his hand in front of the opening, causing the door to slide back into place. He recited another chant to safeguard the area and went upstairs.

  After emerging from the dungeon, he sat down at his table and clapped his hands, indicating he was ready to be fed. Servants of various shapes and sizes nearly tripped over one another in haste as they carefully placed food and drink in front of their master.

  For the next two hours, he gorged and drank in delight, never once taking a break or even glancing up from his plate. After he had his fill, he rose from the chair, wiped his fanged mouth, and headed over toward the staircase at the far end. He was about to ascend the stairs, leading to his private chamber, when one of his minions came rushing over.

  “Master?” the demon said, panting.

  “What is it, whelp?” Dybbuk firmly said without even turning.

  “My lord, one of the Overlord’s messengers has arrived.”

  “Invite him in, and tell him that I’ll be down as soon as I indulge myself in the pleasures.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the scrawny servant replied, bowed, and left.

  Dybbuk walked several flights of stairs until he reached the top landing with the closed door. Posted outside were two guards he called the Elite Ones. Personally trained by his hand, they were bred for one purpose, and one purpose only, and that was to protect their master or die doing so. He paid them little mind and motioned a few symbols in the air to deactivate the wards guarding the entry. Once they finished dissipating, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway beyond.

  “No one is to enter, not even the Overlord himself,” he said, closed the door behind him, and reactivated the wards.

  The long hallway led to a large square room with the mummified corpses of his most challenging foes. Four in total, and each was erected as if they were frozen in a time of their demise. Each form told a different tale of how they perished and the unspeakable horror they endured by his hands.

  There was Anzu the Troubled, with his head placed neatly by his feet; Sron the Mighty, with his arms and legs twisted behind him; Eligos the Slayer, with his body cut in half; and finally, his toughest and deadliest opposition to date, Orias the Influential. Not only was Orias proficient with his tongue in the art of persuasion, but his fighting skills were superior to his own. Now, the former advisor to the Overlord was kneeling before him, holding his intestines from his gutted stomach. Dybbuk had him posed that way because his death was so rewarding. It also reminded him that not even the Overlord thought he had a chance to defeat him.

  Dybbuk thought about them for a few minutes longer, then walked into the main room and out onto the terrace. The view was spectacular and overlooked his domain. He shrieked a sinister cry, and within minutes, three winged demons landed beside him. They were the most beautiful of his pride.

  “Come,” he commanded, and they eagerly followed him into his bedroom to mend his injuries and satisfy his hunger.

  “Will he be down soon?” an irritated Grasant asked.

  “My lord hasn’t been home in a long time,” the servant began. “He is satisfying his hunger for the pleasures. Even you can comprehend that, Grasant.” The servant placed the tray of food and wine down in front of the guest.

  “Very well. Just remember I am here on behalf of the Overlord,” Grasant said, making it known he was offended.

  The servant left the room, and the Overlord’s messenger set about eating.

  Several hours later, Dybbuk emerged into the dining area, and upon seeing him, Grasant stood up and bowed to the mighty demon, who was fourth in command throughout the plane.

  “What brings you here, Grasant?” Dybbuk said to the most useless messenger he’d ever laid eyes upon.

  Grasant smiled. “The Overlord would like to have a meeting with you.”

  “So soon? I just arrived.”

  “He knows that but wanted to speak with you while everything is still fresh in your mind.”

  “Tell him that I’ll meet with him tonight after I first tend to some pressing matters.”

  “Very well.” Grasant bowed in acceptance.

  Dybbuk turned.

  “One more thing, Lord Dybbuk.”

  “What is it?” he responded, trying his best to veil his annoyance.

  “The master sensed that Ailith and Raum have ceased to exist, and he’d like to know why.”

  Dybbuk did not respond and left the room.

  It was nearing twilight when Dybbuk left the confines of his keep. His path to the Overlord’s domain was a direct route through the dry wasteland and was guided by the orange moon, which turned the sky cerise in color. Despite his rather large build, he moved quickly and tirelessly over the shifting terrain.

  Eventually, he crested over a hill, and the Overlord’s fortress came into view. The obsidian structure was at least twice the size of his keep. Scores of guards walked around the perimeter and hovering high above the structure were many female demons flying erratically. The cool wind licking at his face brought back memories of the first rebellion many centuries ago.

  ****

  The uprising began in the west where a demon named Kappas decided it was time for a new and younger breed of demon to lead them into the future. He convinced many of their kind that his cause was just, and they agreed to join his ranks if he led the rebellion against current Overlord Uvall.

  The deadly confrontation began when Kappas marched a legion of demons against Uvall’s stronghold. Uvall and his protectors, led by a powerful demon named Bathin, fought bravely against the rebellious demons and continued to do so even after the fortress was breached. With their numbers dwindling, Bathin sensed the end was near and convinced Uvall, who was mortally wounded, to escape through a hidden passage into the Timinom Mountains. Those that remained behind sealed off the pass and held the masses at bay for a full day before falling. With the battle at an end, and the Overlord sent scurrying away from his castle, Kappas deemed them traitors and sentenced them to live out the rest of their days in hiding. The punishment meant Uvall could not regain his title, and his ba
nd of protectors would never return.

  In the third moon of exile, Uvall finally succumbed to his wounds, leaving Bathin and the others in a most dire of situations. Without him, they would never rise up and retake what was rightfully his, and they couldn’t return home because death was what awaited them. They were also low on food, and with winter upon them, it meant a season filled with the harshest conditions.

  Bathin took control of the situation and went off in search of shelter and food, knowing that, without both, they would perish. He came upon an abandoned cave and, deep within the bowels, found water and a peculiar fungus that would provide nourishment for many moons to come.

  Delighted with his discovery, he was about to return to the others when he stumbled upon a corpse holding a staff with strange carvings on the wood. He studied ancient lore throughout his life, and, after deciphering most of the symbols, he realized that he’d found the lost relic called the Staff of Influence. Further translating explained exactly how to employ the weapon. After showing the others the staff and displaying the power it possessed, they pledged their loyalty to him. It would take Bathin a few years to master the staff’s power. When he did, he started what would be known as The Battle of Subjugation.

  After leaving the safety of the mountains, he recruited many demons by tongue. Those he couldn’t sway, he had only to use the staff, and they pledged their loyalty without question. With the backing of many high-ranking demons, Bathin led an attack on Kappas and his horde of the most vicious and lethal Superior Drones in their realm. Due to their lower intelligence, the drones were no match for the staff’s power and were easily persuaded to change their allegiance or perish. With his numbers swelling, it didn’t take Bathin long to overthrow the newly appointed Overlord and his highest ranking demons.

  After they were imprisoned, he became the new ruler of their kingdom and sent Kappas and his accomplices to trial. Kappas never had a chance at a fair hearing, because the judges were appointed and influenced by Bathin, and they were found guilty.

  For their punishment, Bathin had their limbs removed and their torsos left hanging high above the castle walls where they could swing back and forth every time a strong wind blew. Servants kept them alive for Bathin’s entertainment. After a hundred and fifty years, he grew tired of their pleas for death, and gladly accommodated their request piece by piece.

  Dybbuk turned his attention toward the long drawbridge leading up to the castle and the many guards stationed along the length. He found it excessive for the Overlord to have so many guards, but maybe things changed since he’d been gone.

  As he began crossing over, he felt heat radiating from the fiery water below, and it made him think of how hot it would be to humans, and how long it would take them to dissolve. He found it amusing, because the water was just a warm bath to his kind. He was halfway across the span when a pair of purple-skinned drone guards broke ranks and barred his passage.

  “What do you want?” the drone on the right said after Dybbuk stopped.

  “The Overlord sent for me,” he replied.

  Simultaneously, both drones looked at each other as if they needed to agree upon what he was saying. Dybbuk knew they were quite stupid, but what they lacked in intelligence they made up for in size, strength, and obedience. In a sense, they were the perfect guards; they never asked questions or disobeyed orders. A few seconds later, they turned their attention back to him.

  “State your intention and your title.”

  “I am Dybbuk, fourth in command, and my purpose is meant for the Overlord’s ears only.”

  The guard on the left rumbled in annoyance. His initial temptation was to squash the visitor, as it was all too enticing, but, like a switch in his little mind, the Overlord’s order was remembered:

  Attack only if assaulted or if the Overlord’s life was threatened.

  A third drone now approached. This one was much larger and darker in color than the others were. When he was close enough, the set of guards parted and allowed him to stand before Dybbuk. Dybbuk recognized his status immediately. He was a Superior Drone, a personal protector to the Overlord and handler of the inferior drones.

  One time, he had the privilege of seeing this powerful being in a tournament facing off against twenty other lesser drones. In a matter of minutes, he’d ripped them apart. The Superior Drones were the most feared throughout the plane, and were smarter than the ones they handled, but they lacked leadership and, for that reason, could never rule.

  Towering practically three feet taller than Dybbuk, the creature stared down at him. “What are you doing here?” he bellowed at him.

  “I am Dybbuk, fourth in command. The Overlord has sent for me, so please allow me through.”

  Dybbuk knew his ranking meant nothing to this drone. In his eyes, the Superior Drones were second only to the Overlord himself. For several tense minutes, neither the drones nor Dybbuk moved. When the precious time was right, the Superior Drone told him to wait where he was and walked back toward the castle.

  A few minutes later, Dybbuk heard commotion coming from behind, which made him turn around. Another Superior Drone approached him and stopped in front of him.

  “I recognize you,” he began, “you’re Dybbuk of the fourth in command.”

  It took Dybbuk a few seconds to recognize him as well. It was Chargen, one of the Overlord’s smallest, and dumbest, lesser drones ever hatched. It appeared that he was promoted to superior status, grew five feet taller, gained hundreds of pounds, and acquired more intellect in three short years, a feat uncommon among their breed.

  “Chargen, it’s been a long time. You have developed quicker than any of your kind.”

  He drew a deep breath, expanding his powerful chest. “I have. The Overlord has been very pleased with me. Each time that I complete a task for him, he improves me.”

  “Improves you? How so?”

  “He gives me a special drink that I consume, then I become stronger and tougher.”

  “It’s good to see you.”

  “Are you here to see the Overlord?”

  “I am.”

  Chargen suddenly looked up at the castle as if someone caught his attention. “I have to go now,” he said and walked past him.

  After Chargen was gone, Dybbuk patiently waited for the first Superior Drone to return and was growing agitated with each passing minute. Just when he was about to proceed into the castle, and break their laws of audience, the drone emerged with Grasant in tow.

  The imp walked slightly behind the drone as if he was the Overlord himself. When they finally reached him, Grasant stepped in front of the drone.

  “Dybbuk,” began the little scamp as his tail fluttered back and forth, “the Overlord will address you now.” He smiled sarcastically at him.

  Dybbuk’s eyes narrowed, and his muscles tensed. “Lead the way.”

  Dybbuk was escorted down the pathway, behind Grasant and the Superior Drone, as if he was a commoner instead of a high-ranking demon. The drones along the span stood by, silently watching them, as they passed, and he could feel their stares rip through his very dark soul.

  When they were less than twenty feet away from the mighty citadel, the doors carefully opened and several Void Tirips spewed out of the entryway, swirled toward them, then all around Dybbuk as if they were trying to gauge his intentions. Suddenly, Dybbuk recalled the last time the Overlord gave this kind of reception, and that was to dispose of Sabnock of the second in command. When the Tirips finished, they parted, and he was allowed into the castle. As they passed through the entranceway, Dybbuk pondered whether his fate would be the same as Sabnock.

  Instead of taking the usual passageway into the great hall, Dybbuk was led to the right, into another hallway and down several flights of stairs. He’d never been to this part of the castle, and this only made him wonder what was going to happen to him. They eventually came to a large room with rows of chairs seated on a platform and doors on either side of the chairs. He knew this to be the
room of judgment.

  “Why am I in this room?” Dybbuk demanded.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Grasant responded.

  Dybbuk could hear the delight in his voice. “Tell me before I lose my temper, you deceitful imp.”

  The Superior Drone readied himself for the pending confrontation, but Grasant held up his hand to stay the mighty creature. “Now, now, Lord Dybbuk of the forth in command, there is no need to get angry. If you did nothing wrong in the place known as the Other, then you don’t have anything to worry about.” He chuckled lowly.

  Dybbuk was about to say something when Grasant turned around and left with the drone. They closed and locked the doors behind them.

  Patiently, he waited and waited, until finally, the door to the right opened and in walked eight greater demons. Each carried a scepter and donned black robes with the insignia of the Overlord inscribed on the front. They proudly walked into the room, stopped in front of their respective seats, and faced him. Dybbuk recognized most of them. A few did not care for him, but demon law dictated he must have a fair and just trial or they too could face judgment. The judges introduced themselves in turn, from left to right:

  “I am Gravis of the first judge.”

  “I am Tam of the second judge.”

  “I am Stratus of the third judge.”

  “I am Denin of the fourth judge.”

  “I am Tribler of the fifth judge.”

  “I am Avalos of the sixth judge.”

  “I am Hrad of the seventh judge.”

  “I am Brolumore of the eighth judge.”

  After they were finished, the door on the left opened and in walked the Overlord. He wore black and red robes and clutched the Staff of Influence. Dybbuk knew by his garments that he was on trial, and if he was found guilty, then he would die. After the Overlord took up his rightful position in front of the biggest seat, he looked around and sat. The other judges followed his lead. The Overlord rapped the staff several times on the ground.

  A few seconds later, the double doors behind him opened and in walked six drone guards, accompanied by Chargen and Grasant. Chargen and the other drones surrounded Dybbuk, while Grasant walked over, stood beside the Overlord, produced a scroll from underneath his robes and began reading it.