by Isaac Hooke
Abigail and Weyanna came in with two other Metals and succeeded in driving away the black dragons. Abigail turned back and swooped down on Vorgon; she created fire elementals to harry its face and block its vision. Meanwhile she landed on the Balor’s head and bit into its horns, worrying them with her sharp teeth. Vorgon reached up with one hand to tear her away, but she leaped off, only to circle back again and torment him all over again.
The basilisks arrived and pounced on the Troglodons; they turned some of them to stone in the process. All the nearby dire wolves and tigers transformed into statues.
Hansel arrived as the scallions turned away from Banvil to attack the basilisks; the ghrip wrapped its tentacles around them in turn and pulled the resistant scallions away, tossing them to the hill giants to sit on.
Mauritania’s Eldritch drove forward, the soldiers leaping onto Vorgon’s legs and stabbing with their tridents. The mages among them unleashed the Green Rot. Vorgon launched dark streams from its chest against some of them, but doing so weakened the creature, and it fell back before Banvil’s assault. It was forced to cease the dark attack, and gave everything it had to defending against that giant sword.
More oraks rushed the field to defend their master, but Ziatrice intercepted with her remaining troops. She led them, swinging her dark halberd above her head in great back and forth arcs. She employed her ghostly chains to push away any oraks that got too close. Her black dragons circled Banvil, and guarded the Balor from any further airborne strikes.
Banvil continued to press its attack. It swung its sword at the distracted enemy in wide, powerful blows; Vorgon blocked each strike, catching the final with the notch between its ax blades, and twisted, attempting to pull the sword free.
Banvil wouldn’t have it. The Balor moved inward, physically slamming into its nemesis, and Vorgon stumbled backward. Banvil tore its fiery blade free and struck at its enemy’s thigh, and Vorgon narrowly deflected. Banvil kept swinging, building on its momentum, while Malem’s troops continued to molest Vorgon.
And then Banvil found a hole in Vorgon’s defenses: the blade plunged home, striking the opposing Balor in the chest. The huge blade sunk all the way to the hilt so that its tip protruded from the enemy’s back.
Vorgon inhaled with a sudden, ragged hiss.
Banvil withdrew its blade, sending forth a long spume of black blood, and Vorgon crumpled. The great Balor fell like the collapse of some towering building, and when its body hit the earth, it sent up a huge wave of dust. Malem could feel the ground rumbling even from here.
Banvil stabbed its sword down again, this time aiming for Vorgon’s head. Abigail had vacated the area, leaving the blade free to strike between the two horns, where it penetrated the skull, sinking deep.
Banvil released the sword and collapsed, exhausted, beside its foe. It had cuts all over its body.
Vorgon, meanwhile, slowly crumbled, its body dissolving into dust. The remnants of its form were carried away on the breeze.
The dark armies were routed, and fled the battlefield in complete and utter disarray. Troglodons, night elves, oraks, mountain dwarves, dire wolves, scallions. The Eldritch harried them from behind, killing many, ensuring the enemy didn’t stop to catch their breath. Some among that enemy simply collapsed from exhaustion, only to be run through by the tridents of the Eldritch.
The armies of the Alliance emerged tentatively from their trenches, and some began to cheer.
None of the hill giants had survived that final assault, but the two basilisks and the ghrip lived, as did the three oraks. He crushed the wills of the latter and added their stamina to his own, and the oraks dropped dead. Meanwhile, he instructed Hansel, Khaan and Ophid to race away from the front lines, toward the forest.
He watched the monsters race off, and when he felt they were a sufficient distance away, he released them. He waited a few moments to confirm they were still fleeing toward the Midweald—they had no reason to turn back, after all, not unless they wanted to be re-Broken, which was certainly possible, given the affection he had developed for them, an affection he believed was returned by the monsters, just as it was by Bounder and Felipe. When he was satisfied that they would obey him, he turned his attention to Banvil, and reached his will into the creature’s mind.
The Balor didn’t resist him.
“You have won,” Banvil said, its voice carrying across the field of battle. The cheering members of the alliance immediately fell silent.
Malem stepped forward to approach the Balor. The others in his path—Mauritania, Ziatrice, and those troops yet with them—cleared out of his way.
“Create the portal,” Malem told the demon.
No, Ziatrice sent him. Now’s our chance! Enslave the Balor. Take over the world!
He smiled. But Ziatrice, you don’t understand. You, and the women, are my world. I already have everything I’ll ever want.
He heard a shout of outrage from behind him, and turned in time to see Ziatrice rapidly bearing down on him. She swung the halberd and he leaped out of the way, then he tightened his will, draining her of stamina.
She flopped down.
He walked toward her. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” she said, grinning weakly. “I deserved that, I suppose. Let my emotions get the better of me. Power. I’ve always wanted more. I could never see when I had enough. It’s cost me so many things in this life. And now I’ve lost you, too. Go ahead, then. Take my head with that sword of yours.”
“Silly woman, you haven’t lost me,” he said, letting forgiveness float through their bond.
She broke into a smile, and tears suddenly flowed from her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She sniffed, and rubbed underneath her nose. “Go then. Finish this.”
He turned around and walked toward Banvil.
“I love you,” she said quietly.
He smiled, saying nothing. What could he say? The others were listening in. Everyone was. To declare love for her then would only piss off the others. In truth, he loved them all.
Ahead of him, Banvil had created the night black portal, as requested. Malem began to enlarge it.
“I can’t promise I won’t attempt to return one day,” Banvil said. When Malem didn’t answer, the Balor continued. “The only way you’ll truly be rid of me is to kill me.”
“I know,” Malem said. “I actually thought I would do that, when this was done. I’d be rid of you, and these powers inside of me that I never asked for, forever. But I realize I don’t want to be rid of them, nor you. It’s you who have made me who I am, and despite everything, I feel strangely indebted to you for that. And I suspect I’ll have need of these powers inside of me again. Perhaps not today, nor tomorrow, nor even a year from now, but someday.”
The portal had enlarged enough to barely fit Banvil. Malem beckoned toward it. “Now, if you don’t mind?”
Banvil heaved its massive form off the dirt and crawled on hands and knees toward the darkness. It slid its fiery sword along the ground in front of it.
He felt resignation emanating from the Balor’s energy bundle. And shame. The great Banvil, reduced to crawling away like a worm in front of all the humans it had sought to conquer twenty years ago. The Balor didn’t like that, not at all.
“Begone back into the Darkness from whence you came,” Malem intoned, partly for dramatic effect, and partly to increase the Balor’s humiliation. He regretted the words the instant they left his lips.
Banvil shot him a bitter look. “You may be the victor now, Breaker. But when I come again one day, you will regret treating me this way.”
Malem decided it was best not to say anything to further antagonize the demon.
Shortly thereafter, the Balor passed through the doorway and was gone.
Malem began shrinking the portal, but it dissipated outright before he got very far.
He sheathed his sword, and slumped.
Abigail and Weyanna landed nearby. As did Prince Jayden in dragon form.
> Balethorn hummed in his scabbard, wanting their blood, but he ignored it and the blade soon fell silent.
Xaxia came to his side, looping a hand through his left arm. Gwen did the same on his right.
“What a day,” he said.
Mauritania and Ziatrice joined him.
“So, what now?” Gwen said.
He glanced at Ziatrice. “Well, we’ll have to journey to the land of the night elves so that Ziatrice can get her crown back from the usurper.”
Ziatrice gave him an approving smile and nod at that.
He looked at Mauritania next. “And then we’ll have to visit the Eldritch so that Mauritania can return to ruling her kingdom in peacetime. Isn’t the land of the night elves close to that of the Eldritch?”
“We’re neighbors,” Mauritania agreed.
“That’s perfect,” Malem said. “I’ll have to start my own kingdom between the two realms then. I’ll settle down there for a bit. Have some children maybe. Try to live some semblance of a normal life.”
Prince Jayden laughed heartily next to Abigail. “Good luck to you, Breaker. And I wish you even better luck maintaining the peace in your planned household.” That massive head tilted from side to side in disapproval. “Six women. Five of them permanent fixtures in your mind. I’d never wish such a curse upon any man. Not even you.” He chuckled a final time, and then took to the air to rejoin the circling Metals.
Malem started back toward the front lines, where Rashan and the other members of the Alliance waited with their troops, no doubt planning to congratulate him. He could do without all the hurrahs: he just wanted to be done with this so he could make good on his plans. He would head west, through the conquered lands, to their homes, so that they could try to set things back the way they were before Vorgon came. And then he’d start his own kingdom.
The women followed him across the remainder of the no man’s land. There were no bodies here, as the fighting had taken place mostly behind them. The loud thuds to his left told him that Abigail and Weyanna still accompanied him. They remained in dragon form, probably out of human modesty: without spare clothes, their naked bodies would be visible for all the soldiers to ogle. But no soldiers would ogle a dragon.
He wondered when Abigail would tell her father she wasn’t going home with him. The Metal king wouldn’t be very happy when he heard the news.
Gwen had kept her arm hooked through his, but pulled away from him then to give him an amused look. “You were joking about the children, right?”
“Not at all,” he told her.
“But you hardly strike me as the fatherly sort.” She paused, pursing her lips almost in a pout. “Then again, it might be fun to see a few green-skinned little kids running around.”
“Green-skinned?” Mauritania said. “They’re going to be white-skinned, and horned.”
“No,” Ziatrice said. “They’ll have blue skin.”
“They’ll be half dragons,” Abigail said.
“You’re all wrong,” Xaxia said. “They’ll be bandits.”
Malem rubbed his temples. “The prince was right. And here I thought defeating a Balor was tough…”
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Afterword
Please help spread the word about Conqueror - Monster Tamer 2 by leaving a one or two sentence review. The number of reviews an ebook receives has a big impact on how well it does, so if you liked this story I'd REALLY appreciate it if you left a quick review. Anything will do, even one or two lines.
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About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Isaac Hooke holds a degree in engineering physics, though his more unusual inventions remain fictive at this time. He is an avid hiker, cyclist, and photographer who sometimes resides in Edmonton, Alberta.
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Acknowledgments
I’d also like to thank my knowledgeable beta readers and advanced reviewers who helped smooth out the rough edges of the prerelease manuscript: Nicole P., Lisa G., Karen J, Jeremy G., Doug B., Jenny O., Amy B., Bryan O., Gary F., Lezza, Noel, Anton, Spencer, Norman, Chris, Bryant, and Trudi.
Without you all, this novel would have typos, continuity errors, and excessive lapses in realism. Thank you for helping me make this the best novel possible, and thank you for leaving the early reviews that help new readers find my books.
And of course I’d be remiss if I didn't thank my dear mother, father, and brothers, whose guidance has taught me how to control the Darkness.
— Isaac Hooke
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