Legacy of the Defender (The Defender Series Book 1)

by Jacob Spadt

  “Okay, I told that one you would be waiting for him on the other side and that he was to sacrifice the others to return. I helped from this end as well to guide the portal opening to me. You needed to see what it would be like to think you were in control. How did it feel?”

  “So this was a test you knew I would fail?” I sat there shaking my head in disbelief. I knew “Teacher” was a master tactician but to risk this kind of exposure so soon was not like him. It seemed careless. My advantage would have been compromised had that daemon reported to the horde, and I would have been at a severe disadvantage until all the daemons with that knowledge had been hunted down. I wondered why he would take such a risk.

  As I waited, Mathias walked in with a stern look on his face that faded to a smile. He was still hard to read, but that was actually a good sign. Perhaps the day was not a total waste

  “Well?”

  “Horrible. It happened just as you told me it would the first time.”

  “You needed to learn that things are not always as they appear. The agents of the enemy can live on Earth, disguised as humans, in certain circumstances. Be prepared that anyone you meet could be a daemon. Your senses have to be alert to see them, so never let down your guard.” I was shocked at these words from Mathias and wondered when he planned to share this with me.

  “Ever think of telling me this stuff?” I asked sarcastically.

  ”I just did.”

  I looked at him with wonder. He was in my head again. I always felt so violated. Even though he was playful at times, I knew he did not purposefully play games with me but when he withheld information, it felt like he was playing a game, or worse. I know the intent was not malicious but meant to instruct me in different ways. I sometimes grew frustrated of the lessons, but I accepted them for what they were. His lessons had not been as Malnuras’s were. Even though I had taken many beatings from Malnuras, it was never an actual beating; it was always in the form of defending from his onslaught of blows. The lessons hurt.

  Mathias, on the other hand, just flat beat me down in the past. He did this to teach humility and toughen me up, which accomplished both on many accounts. His teaching style allowed him to do with me as he pleased. There was always some sort of lesson that surfaced later. Sometimes weeks went by before the significance of his teaching became relevant. I did miss my master at times and the countless days spent with him had left their mark in my mind.

  The training, the conditioning, and the skills he beat into me came out in my everyday life. At times, it seemed like every moment, I could identify something that he taught me and apply it to the situation. I felt gratitude every for all he had done for me. The tests had been, and were still very much real and the chances of dying high. I possessed the ability to survive, but there was no guarantee that I might not make a mistake that would get me or my teacher or master killed. The chance of that happening where they died was slim, but I could not take any situation for granted.

  Now I had another angle to consider. The idea of daemons taking human hosts gave me chills. I had heard of possession before but this was not a just possession. They lived in and bonded with the hosts. I spent the next few days trying to learn what I could on the subject. There were only instances where the Defender fought off humans and in the process of defending himself, killed the human only to have a corporeal form of a daemon rise out of the corpse and try to materialize. Sometimes they fled and tried to get into a host in order to hide again.

  I saw one scene where Bigfoot chased a daemon from host to host. On one hand, it was comical. But sad that those people died in the process. If I did not kill them all and keep track of them upon arrival, one of them might get away. This would cause other problems. Having to worry about the “seen” and the “unseen” made my stomach turn for the first time in months. The stakes had just gotten higher. Failing now was even less of an option. My jaw was set firmly on succeeding. I found myself clenching at the thought of failing. How to accomplish this escaped me.

  Frustration mounted. A sigh ensued. “All would reveal itself in time,” the phrase echoed in my head. I had much more to learn, and a new determination now awakened in me. I felt Malnuras’s eyes on me and looked to him. He nodded. Bowing to both, my eyes locked on each of them respectfully.

  It was going to take some getting used to. Was there a choice? My teacher always knew my thoughts. That did not bother me anymore. Greater issues seemed to be overshadowing the lesson. He knew my turmoil. Slightly comforted that I was not alone in my thoughts, I stood and drew my swords. A presence behind me stirred. It had been a few weeks since we sparred; my head turned to see him sneaking up behind me. I acted as if I did not see him until he swung his staff.

  The defection was flawless.

  His grin spread quickly across his lips.

  “You will have to do better than that, Teacher.”

  Mathias drew his blade and looked at Malnuras. They nodded to each other.

  X

  They are here

  The light that fills these fading eyes

  Has always been my compromise

  In the dark I made my stand

  And bleed to meet the horde's demand

  With each drop my life might fade

  But in return lends strength to blade

  Standing fast against the tide

  No other course but to abide

  All my life I have prepared

  To stand alone without despair

  Heightened skills have bought me time

  I am the cork that holds the line

  From those that passed in times before

  Reinforce the mandate inside I swore

  If I fail this day this hour

  To the next I will add my power

  I did not choose, yet here I stand

  To turn the tide and save the land

  I fight a battle to none exists

  So they can have their crimson bliss

  Breathing came in labored gasps.

  Today’s theme proved me wrong about many things as I ran for my life; this was the first time I had fled since my journey and training began. Half the day was gone with only a few moments to relieve myself and take a quick drink before they caught my scent and I was on the move again. I could not believe how quick the small, wingless daemons moved. Something changed, which led me to believe that somehow my teacher controlled training events more than he let on. Their speed was faster and they could leap even farther than before. This was a problem.

  The name given to the small ones translated to “leaping demons,” which I thought was extremely accurate and highly simplistic. Admittedly, I laughed when Malnuras told me the name and what it meant. He cracked me upside the head that day with his staff and told me to learn respect for them before the week was out. The irony of that statement came true.

  Now he fought for his life. Up until now, I looked at my enemies with hatred. Correcting my view was a lesson in academics.

  I had no idea my world was about to go sideways. They found our location with numbers that measured in the tens of thousands, possibly more. Every size of every variety swarmed the camp, tearing down the barriers and the protections with ease. All Malnuras could do was say, “Run and stay alive!” then sent me flying over the hill with a wave of his hand.

  He raised his hands over his head. Energy, like a white pillar, slammed into the ground with terrific force. The front ranks of the horde vanished. Several hundred daemons died instantly. The decimation was insane. A huge explosion rocked the area and a concussive shockwave rolled out from the impact point, killing more of the ground units and taking down several hundred flyers in midair. Thousands more came.

  My vision blurred as the shock wave hit me in mid-flight. It sent me tumbling head over heels for what felt like an eternity. A cliff face stopped my momentum when my orientation was upside down. I fell yet again. This time a tree broke my fall reminding me of the tree back home. Now, I knew what to do and used the branches to rota
te me so my feet found the main portion of the tree. The texture of its bark created friction, allowing me to slow my descent with minimal impact.

  My feet burned through the shoes I had made from materials of the forest. The animal skin was a leather hide that had its own texture on the outside and the bottom. On that surface, we coated it with the saliva of some creature that was like rubber when it hardened. It used it to cocoon its prey and keep it fresh for later. Kind of like a spider wrapping its kill in its web to keep it secure.

  This creature was a hunter. It ran you down then licked you all over while glands in its mouth secreted the smelly substance that I now wore proudly on my feet. I appreciated the substance right now, for the hide on the souls of my feel would have worn through on my slide down the trunk of the tree. I was grateful that we had done the project together, yet that turned to sadness as thoughts of him alone now flooded over me.

  His last words of “Stay alive” rang through my head and heart. He never took the approach of telling me how important I was. The message was a hint, but never an outright statement, which made it easier to accept, in my eyes. It was not as if the world would crumble right now if I were to die. The Sasquatch was still there. He was still protecting the people and doing his job. My replacing him was the next evolution, not because of what he did or did not do, but because he had served the planet well. He deserved a vacation of the permanent variety.

  An impressive light show lit the sky from over the hill. The thunderous explosions reverberated off the cliff behind me and returned, causing feedback that shook the very ground. I took a moment to survey my surroundings. Deep woods surrounded me at the base of a network of cliffs that went on for miles. Every few seconds the light in the distance flashed, followed by the shock wave that delayed my task of getting out of there. I had to either climb up or go one way or the other. Going up was bad because daemons had excellent vision, and they would no doubt see me scaling the cliff. If I tried to jump across, the sudden movement would attract their attention.

  That left me two options: pick a direction and go. I knew there was a daemon warren to the south of our camp; luckily, my teacher threw me roughly north. I thought for a second about my chances. If the warren was empty and if passing by without a fight was possible, survival might also be. I knew better. Hosts that came from a direction generally lived in that direction. The odds of them coordinating an attack on our campsite when the glory would fall to the attacking group were slim.

  My mind raced to remember daemon lore.

  Daemons worked together but not until they were called by a higher authority. They all wanted to serve the greater evil, but earning stature still meant pleasures such as human flesh to eat or human females to create nasty offspring with, as a reward. I do not know the daemon version of the Nephilim, but it would not be good or pleasant to meet, especially since they could impregnate the female with multiple offspring at a time. Somehow, daemon seed found its way to the woman’s ovaries and all the eggs in her body impregnated simultaneously. When the embryos matured, they destroyed the woman from the inside and released hundreds of spawn that grew quickly.

  If a daemon had its own offspring to command, it became more powerful. They usually started their own warren and bred normally from there. This is how the power base established because the human chi gave these offspring special gifts. I did not know more than that about their overall hierarchy and ecology, but had listened to enough of the stories and had given attention to the information that both of my teachers had bestowed upon me. Usually the larger ones or stronger daemons pulled this off when the opportunity arose.

  The decision was to head north. Moment to moment, choices of which way to go came up. Two separate creatures caught my scent and died quickly. I smeared blood and gore of the last one all over me. The chase was still going on. My decisions did not influence the battlefield. Mobility mattered. Normally before a training session, I would have to locate a suitable place to engage the host, and then lead them to it to fall back into the ambush that I both created and sprung.

  Not today. Every time I found a suitable location, there was not long enough to set up anything. It was going to have to be a run and gun. Killing them while moving and to keep moving as fast as I can became my process today. My options were few and this was the best I could do.

  My conditioning took over at this point. Winded, I kept going. My survival skills had me always looking at every possible avenue for places to hide to regroup. I knew what trees would not try to eat me and what berries to eat. All of that was child’s play and second nature. I am sure I could teach Special Forces a thing or two when they went through the hell week or their SARS training. I was a master at survival. The problem was the train of daemons following me. They were getting closer every minute.

  It is amazing what happens when you think you are paying attention, especially when not in your own area. The first trap was a surprise. I damn near stepped into the thing then heard a vine snap under some large leaves near the path. I jumped as high as possible and found another trip wire several meters in the air that broke with my momentum. Two logs tipped with metal plates and sharpened points, swung from the side. My eyes caught them at the last moment. My ability to slow my descent allowed me to time it perfectly. They swung through the area my body would have been below and the chime of the metal hitting metal rang out. Before I had time to react to the impact, a large net fell atop of me and somehow wrapped me up from all angles.

  This was not on the agenda

  The ground rushed up. There was no time to reposition my feet with a net weighing down. I managed to get a sword free, as the weight brought me to my knees and thrust upwards to slice a hole. To my dismay, only one strand cut. My limbs quickly became immobilized. Sudden realization hit. It was not just a net. Some sort of sticky substance coated me. I tried to saw it with the one blade already sticking through. The strand reformed as the blade pushed through. It rejoined after the blade passed. I was surprised that it did not stick to the metal. The net was made of living matter.

  Four shadows fell from the trees above, so quietly they sounded like wind. Only my senses were able to detect the presence. I met this new challenge with a smile. All my protections came on. The figures approached and surrounded. With this giant net on me, it was hard to see. They had very bloated looking bodies and multiple limbs. Several acted like tendrils and the others attached to the net. Their faces had mandibles and three sets of eyes on what appeared to be a head. They walked as if the ground was a hot plate. They only left their appendages down long enough to shift their balance and lift the other one quickly, as if they feared getting burned. Their feet snapped back as they strode, only with no sound.

  My hunters had found me, it seemed. I struggled to rise. The sheer weight on me appeared to be draining me of strength, when I realized it was doing exactly that. This material attached to the creatures was part of their body. The tendril wove into a net to trap prey. I felt a twinge of pain and was nauseated as they proceeded to drain the life force from me. Focusing hard and managing to push these daemons from me was not working. There was no way out, and they advanced. A chattering voice came from one of them. They spoke as they approached. This speech was new to me.

  “Whut ees et? Et us beeg, vury beeg. Schmeels uf fud, leekks luk tucheer.”

  “Yiiis vury beeg, leeks tusty, it nut fluus nut nuur muvs on fure leeegs.”

  “Ees blundad un. Loung snee os teestad blundad.”

  “Tracheerri! Keell fure eet sutes wuth eets d’mon weeeze.”

  “Keell uit!” they chimed and the net wove itself around me tighter.

  “Wait, “I cried out. “Whom do you serve? You called me a daemon. I hunt them, and there is a whole horde of them coming this way.” It was getting harder to draw breath; my sword fell to the ground and the net lifted. They suspended me between them. Hanging flat now, I felt the tendrils weave in and around my legs and arms. It was really starting to hurt and to break any of
the strands was impossible. I turned on my healing in hopes of lasting long enough to reason with them.

  The sound of steel, as if drug along small rocks and hardened dirt, came from below. The feeling they were going to try to run through with my own sword came over me I figured anger would follow once they realized that would not work... The sound stopped. A tendril of one of the creatures had my sword suspended in front of it. It was looking at it curiously. The crushing weight and energy drain lessened for a moment. Some other voice chattered. It was not the language spoken by the people. The words were very animal sounding. There was more chattering and clicking, as if it was excited. The other began to speak, which made my head spin. This went on for a few moments. The constriction lessened, allowing my healing to do more of its work.

  I could take full breaths now, but could not move.

  The four of them continued chattering. I was in a death trap. My eyes panned around. This was a good place for an ambush, and I had walked right into it. I cursed my luck, or lack thereof, when suddenly there were more of them dropping out of the trees behind and all around me. A sickening feeling filled me with dread. They exchanged words and felt certain they were planning to eat me. They spoke a unanimous word. Next, I found out just how hard the ground was. Tendrils then picked me up and set me on my feet. As I gained my balance, dozens of these creatures surrounded me. I was in a bit of shock as the events unfolded before me.

  One of them approached with my sword in its tendril. It was then that I realized the thing had twelve tendrils, yet walked only on four. It made no sound. With another one of its tendrils, it pointed to one of the runes on my sword. I looked and it was pointing towards the symbol they use to define the first human that has the title of Defender.

  “Whut thus muin?” it asked, motioning to the symbol.