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

by Charles Carfagno Jr.

  “I need to know the details.” Clay stood up as if he were ready to run off and avenge him.

  Rustic gripped his shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do. Focus on Brim, he needs our help.”

  Over the next several hours, both men did their best to tend to his wounds. However, given the fact that neither of them had ever trained in the healing arts, Brim’s chances for recovery were slim.

  It was nearing mid-afternoon when Gilex and Utar arrived. They split up as Utar went to his tent to rest and Gilex walked to Brim’s quarters to check on him.

  Gilex was about to enter when Rustic, head down, came out and almost bumped into him. “Rustic how’s Brim?” He asked.

  Rustic stopped in his tracks and looked up at him.

  “Is Brim okay?” Gilex sternly asked.

  “Broc is dead.” He said in a somber tone.

  “What? How did it happen?”

  “He needed herbs during the night and went off searching for them.”

  “Who found him?” Gilex was clearly irritated.

  “I did, and avenged his death by killing all of those responsible.”

  “Excellent work, though I am saddened by the loss. He was a great person and a skilled healer.”

  “One of the best,” Rustic added.

  “What about Brim?”

  “He’s awake, but weak. Clay watched over him all night.”

  “I need the men ready in a couple of hours.”

  “I don’t think Brim will be ready.”

  “This area isn’t safe.”

  Rustic nodded and took two steps past his leader.

  “Rustic!” Gilex said causing the big man to stop in his tracks. “Consider yourself promoted to second lieutenant.”

  Without responding, Rustic walked away. He knew that it was a hollow accomplishment, but thought that he still deserved it. He’d been, if anything, loyal to the group and a good sword when needed. He headed toward Utar’s tent.

  Gilex watched him leave, thinking about Broc again. Not about him as a person or for the remarkable skills he possessed, but for the sacrifice he would’ve become. Rustic arrived at Utar’s tent a short time later and waited for the lieutenant to invite him in before entering.

  “Did you find anything out about Gilex or our mission?” Rustic asked.

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “Well?” Rustic whispered.

  “No, everything is going to be fine.” Utar replied calmly.

  “What did you discuss?”

  “We talked about various things: our mission, the men, and the future.”

  “Did he seem different?”

  “No, not really.” Utar shook his head and appeared evasive when answering.

  “Is that it?”

  “Look!” Utar snapped. “We agreed that when we find out more information, we’ll share it with each other. Okay?”

  “Fine, sorry to bother you.”

  Rustic turned and was about to leave when Utar spoke again. “I apologize that I snapped at you. I’m tired, and it’s been a long night.”

  “Nothing is making sense,” Rustic thought. “Last night, Utar was acting very suspicious, and now he acts like nothing is wrong.”

  “Go get ready.” Utar said interrupting his thoughts.

  Rustic left his tent thinking that maybe he needed to keep an eye on both of them.

  ****

  The sky darkened ahead of the group as they headed west. Gilex and Utar led, followed by Rustic and Clay, then Perahn and Brim, who was tied to his saddle in such a way that it prevented him from falling and Kentra, bringing up the rear. Several hours later rain fell in heavy sheets as they entered a thick wooded area. What they didn’t know was that an unseen enemy, shrouded within the trees, waited for them to pass before launching a volley of crude, but deadly arrows from the north and then south.

  The first stream of arrows hit Perahn in the right leg, Brim in the throat and shoulder, and Rustic in the left arm. Gilex’s armor protected him, and he remained unscathed. Gilex immediately yelled for his men to flee and then galloped away just as the second volley was launched. The next wave missed Gilex, Utar, and Rustic, but Perahn took an arrow in his left shoulder. The impact almost caused him to lose his grip on the horse’s reins, but he held on to them and galloped away. He glanced back and saw Brim and his horse on the ground. Both weren’t moving.

  Meanwhile, Clay was hit a few times while escaping, but none of his injuries were serious or life threatening. His horse however, was hit several times, leaving the mare gravely wounded and bleeding profusely. Her strength failed a few hundred yards later and she stumbled to the ground, throwing Clay headfirst. Kentra never had a chance to flee because his horse was struck in the neck, causing the animal to rear up and throw him from the saddle.

  Gilex, Rustic, Utar, and Perahn never broke stride until they were several hundred yards away from the attack, and then Gilex brought them to a full halt. “Where is everyone else?” he asked, looking at each of them in turn.

  “I saw Brim get hit several times; as for Kentra and Clay, I don’t know,” Perahn answered.

  “I’m going back for them,” Utar shouted over the piercing thunder.

  “We’ll meet you further up ahead. Good luck,” Gilex said.

  Utar nodded and sped off.

  Utar rode hard until he saw Clay. He was using his barb-hooked spear to keep several Mangalers at bay. Utar yelled his infamous battle cry, and then began hurling throwing axes at the enemy. The attack slew two Mangalers and distracted the others, leaving them exposed to Clay’s weapon of death. The tall man made quick work of the others, and then took Utar’s hand as he slowed his horse and helped Clay onto his mount.

  “Are you okay?” Utar asked.

  “A few scratches, that’s all.” Clay said and borrowed Utar’s bow. “I got our backs. We need to move, there are many more around us.”

  “Do you know what happened to Kentra or Brim?”

  “Brim was killed, and the last time I saw Kentra, he and his horse were shot multiple times.”

  “Where?”

  An arrow then crossed in front of the horse.

  “We can’t go back for him,” Clay stated.

  Not knowing what happened to Kentra bothered Utar, but he knew they couldn’t go back, so he spurred the horse on. They made it a few hundred yards when more wolf creatures, armed with swords, emerged from the forest. Clay quickly took aim and slew three on the right, followed by two waiting directly in their path. Utar never slowed and rode over another two.

  As Utar and Clay rounded another bend, a small group of Mangalers, armed with bows, appeared in front of them and began firing. Clay was hit in the left leg and right arm. Utar was hit in his right shoulder, right leg, and one arrow skimmed off of his left ear. Utar struggled with the reins, but never lost control, because if he had the other dozen or so wolf creatures emerging from the foliage would have overwhelmed them.

  ****

  After getting to his feet, Kentra knew he was alone and that escape was impossible after looking over at his dead mount. His breathing was heavy as a result of his wounds, and he conceded to the fact that nobody was coming back for him. There would be no great rescue or a hero to save the day. As the enemy approached from all sides, he looked skyward to enjoy the rain falling on his face. The cool water, coupled with several deep breaths, brought a sense of peace, and then he decided to meet death head-on and unsheathed his long sword one last time. He grinned all the while knowing that he was going to see his wife again on the shores of the afterlife. On this day, he fought with such skill and determination that it wasn’t the number of his enemy that would be his downfall, but the loss of blood from the many arrows protruding from his armor. When the battle was finally through, at least twenty Mangalers were dead along with Kentra’s body that was torn to pieces.

  The leader of the wolf creatures walked over and picked up his decapitated head. “See what you get when you oppose us?” He shouted wi
th a snarl. “Before this day is through, we will kill the rest of those pathetic humans. They are the ones who killed our brethren two nights ago, and they must pay.”

  The group of fifteen responded with shouts of delight.

  “When we catch them, we’ll eat their innards and let them watch us before we cut off their heads.”

  More shouts and grunts echoed over the thunder.

  The leader tossed Kentra’s head on the ground. “Come, my brothers.” He said and ran off, with his men following closely behind.

  ****

  Gilex, Rustic, and Perahn came to an abrupt halt after traveling for two miles, and hid within the shelter of the trees. As they waited for the rest of the group, Rustic removed the arrows from Perahn and dressed his wounds, while Gilex kept watch, staring out through the driving rain.

  “If they’re not here soon, we’ll have to find proper shelter,” Gilex said, wiping away the rain from his face and pushing aside his matted hair.

  “Let’s give them an hour and...” Rustic was saying just as they heard a horse galloping toward them.

  When they recognized the riders, Gilex whistled and Utar stopped his mount.

  “Rustic, help Clay.” Utar said, then dismounted and limped his way over to Gilex. “They’re still after us. We have to keep moving.”

  Gilex looked at his first lieutenant’s leg, with the arrow protruding, and wondered how he was standing. “Who are they? Or better yet, what are they?” he asked.

  “They’re some kind of humanoid wolf creature,” Utar said.

  Rustic stopped what he was doing. “I think they must be from the same group that killed Broc. Maybe they’re seeking revenge.”

  “I thought you said you killed them?” Gilex asked him.

  “I did. Maybe this group was meant to join the ones I killed.”

  “We have to reach the caves before nightfall. I’m tired and don’t want to fight anymore,” Utar interrupted.

  “What about your wounds?” Gilex asked.

  Utar followed his eyes and, without responding, pulled the arrows out of his body, one at a time, wincing in pain with each one. “I’ll be fine.” He said, grabbed ointment and began rubbing it over his wounds.

  “The cave isn’t much further, so if we set some traps, that should slow them down long enough for us to reach it.”

  “I’ll have Rustic give me a hand,” Utar added.

  After Gilex, Perahn, and Clay were on their way, Utar and Rustic began placing traps all around the area. Some of them were simple in design, while others were a bit more complicated. All of them were designed to slow down their enemy. They staggered the traps in such a way that when one went off, the unsuspecting enemy would be forced in a different direction that would set off another. By the time they finished arming the last trap, a mile from where they started, the first device went off, which was followed by another, and another, and then the screams of anguish began. Both men smiled at each other, mounted their horses, and raced off.

  Midnight was approaching when they finally arrived at the cave. Utar dismounted and took notice of the strange footprints surrounding and leading into the depths below.

  “I’ve never seen footprints of this nature before.” He stated.

  “Maybe there’s another way in?” Clay asked.

  “Hold on.” Gilex said, dismounted, and began surveying the area.

  Rustic looked over at Utar and noticed that he wasn’t favoring his injured leg. “You’re not limping anymore.”

  “The ointment I have works extremely fast,” Utar quickly answered, not wanting to draw attention to his newly found healing powers.

  “Did you get it from Broc?”

  Before he could respond, Gilex said. “With the amount of foliage surrounding this area, it would take a long time, if ever, to find another entrance, so I think we should enter here.” Gilex walked to the mouth of the cave, lit a glow rock, and peered inside.

  Rustic dismounted and joined him. “See anything?”

  “Set the horses free and light some torches. We’re going in.”

  “Is that wise? Everyone is tired.”

  “If we camp outside, we run the risk of the Mangalers catching up with us, and we’re in no condition to fight. We’ll rest down below.”

  After Utar returned from releasing the horses, Gilex guided them down into the cold, dark depths below. Traveling cautiously and silently downward, they continued their spiraling descent until they reached a circular room four hundred feet below the surface. The room was thirty feet in diameter with another corridor at the far end.

  “Let’s stop here and rest,” Gilex said.

  “I’ll scout ahead,” Rustic added, pulled out his hefty ax, and then activated a glow rock. He was about to disappear down the hallway when Gilex stopped him and walked over.

  “Don’t go too far. We’ll follow the map once everyone is ready,” Gilex said.

  “I’ll make sure there’s nothing hiding nearby,” Rustic said and left.

  Once he was gone, Utar placed a trap at the entrance, and the rest of the men began setting up camp. After they were finished, everyone, except for Gilex, went to sleep. Gilex, sitting with his back against the wall, stared at the flickering torchlight and began to reflect on the events from a couple of years ago. He knew in his heart that Togan was responsible for his demise, although he had no proof. The question was why? They were like brothers; both were well-respected and high-ranking officials. What could he have gained by getting rid of him? Was it money, power, or did someone else convince him otherwise? After he was exiled from Lindenmar, he returned a few months later to plead his case to the magistrate, but never got the chance because Togan and the elite guard intercepted him. Gilex thought about attacking him on the spot, but decided against it. It was a decision that he’d regretted since then. Staring into the dancing flames his eyes grew weary, and a few seconds later, they were closed and he drifted off into a rare and peaceful sleep.

  He dreamt that he was in a courtyard of their family’s citadel. His father and brother were with him, and it was a day in which both boys were honing their fighting skills. They sparred against their father, and each other, and when they were through their father led them to another area and began showing them different attack and defense formations.

  After the lesson, Gilex’s father picked up a spear and attacked him. Father and son fought back and forth with neither one able to gain the advantage over the other. That was until Gilex’s father used unorthodox movements and began inflicting wounds all over his son’s body. They were deep enough to pierce through his armor and draw blood. Gilex’s father heckled him for his lack of skill and came at him. Time and time again, Gilex was stabbed and pricked. His blood ran down his body and pooled around his feet, becoming thick as molasses and binding him to the spot. His father stopped and laughed at his son when he was unable to move his feet.

  “My son, you have failed me and the family,” his father said and pulled back the spear, then plunged the weapon into Gilex’s stomach, pushing the shaft forward until it passed through his back. His father smiled and lifted him high in the air. As the dying Gilex slid down the shaft, he looked at his father’s face, and suddenly it morphed into the face of Togan. The dream was all too real for Gilex, and his body began convulsing uncontrollably while he slept.

  ****

  The sloping passageway that Rustic was following leveled some fifteen feet later, and then went straight for another ten. He followed it until he came upon a corridor leading west, and he stopped. After listening for several minutes to the stillness, he moved into the passageway. The long corridor led to another on his right. Rustic decided to continue his investigation north. He soon came upon a crossroad and was faced with going east, west, or north. Instinct told him to go straight, which was the path he chose after marking the wall with an arrow pointing back toward camp.

  After walking another fifty feet, the corridor suddenly grew cold, then colder still with each step un
til Rustic was chilled to the bone and needed to turn around. When he reached the crossroad again, he heard a faint click or chirping sound coming from somewhere down the far end of the western corridor. He needed to make sure there wasn’t any real danger then turned the corner, holding the glow rock higher now, and shining as much light as possible. The lengthy hallway was lined with medium-sized divots that were scattered throughout the entire length of the hallway; how deep they were, he did not know. Rustic hesitated and then heard the noise again and proceeded with the glow rock held face high and his ax, cocked, and ready to strike. He was halfway down the length, when a loud, frightening screech erupted from the far end. Rustic panicked, backed away, then lost his footing and fell, dropping the glow rock as he landed in a deep hole. The glass light shattered upon impact, and he was plunged into darkness. He remained motionless, staring, and waiting to discover if anything heard him.

  After several long minutes of silence, Rustic rose to a squatting position and carefully began moving back toward the exit, using the wall to guide him and his ax - as a blind man would use his cane - to feel for the next divot. He’d just felt the corner of the wall when he heard the clicking sound again. This time it sounded like it was slowly moving up the same corridor. Rustic turned around, dagger in his left hand and ax in his right, poised and ready to strike. The strange clicking sound continued to draw closer, followed by heavy breathing, and a stench that permeated throughout the area. Despite the nauseating smell, he remained calm. Tense seconds passed while Rustic remained as still as a statue and ready to strike; he figured he’d have one, maybe two swings with his ax before employing the dagger. The creature moved a few feet closer, stopped, snorted in his general direction, and then went back down the corridor. Exhaling in relief, he waited for a full minute before standing up and following the wall until he saw the camp’s fire, then he rushed forward.