Sons of Evil: Book 1 Book of Dread

by Adams, David

  The anger in his tone and the sudden fire in his eyes had the desired effect. He had their full attention and their silence. “Let me ask you something,” he continued, almost needing to shout to be heard above the din of the storm. “If whoever, or whatever, is after this book sees the way we’re acting, would it please him?” He met their eyes, one at a time, and both paladin and sorceress were forced to look away. “I don’t understand what it is in your past that makes you dislike each other so, and I really don’t care. You don’t need to be friends, but if we’re going to succeed, we need to do it together. If we’re going to fight each other, the enemy’s already halfway to victory. So if you want to help—and I want your help, both of you—then this needs to stop. If you can’t do that, then go home.” With one last hard stare, Darius walked away.

  Luke was the first to move, catching his brother and mumbling, “Nice speech. Too bad I’ve gotta get soaked now.”

  “You’re all wet anyway.”

  “Literally, you mean.” After a pause, he added, “Right?”

  Darius, his heart still racing from the lecture he had delivered, was finally able to force a weak smile.

  Silas caught them next and clapped Darius on the shoulder. “Well done, my friend. I’d given up on stopping the fighting. You’ll make a fine leader for our group.”

  Darius’ eyebrows shot up. “Leader? I’m not the leader.”

  “You have the book. And if none of us had followed, would you have gone home yourself, or continued on?”

  Darius could think of no way to refute which choice they all knew he would make—had already made, actually. “Still doesn’t make me the leader.”

  “As you wish,” Silas said. “But we’re following you.”

  “Or at least trying to,” Luke amended. “Wind still seems to working for the bad guys.”

  Darius ignored his brother and glanced at Silas. “Who’s following?”

  Silas glance back quickly and then smiled at the young man. “All of us.”

  *

  The storm had changed the atmosphere in more ways than one. It ushered in a period of cooler weather, making travel during the day bearable and sleeping at night comfortable, but more important it had triggered the events that now allowed the party, specifically Adrianna and Barlow, to at least maintain the appearance of getting along. Adrianna, rather than complaining about being caught in the storm, had noted how the rain had washed away the accumulated sweat and grime of the journey, and Barlow had bit off the barb that sprang unbidden to his lips—something about how it had done little to improve Adrianna’s bedraggled appearance—and instead made the crack about himself with a laugh. There was still an underlying tension there, but Darius was happy with the effort they were making. Silas and Luke were clearly grateful for it as well.

  The one thing the storm didn’t help was the land. They had each held out some hope that the lifelessness of the plains was simply the result of an extended summer dry spell, but the deluge of rain and the days of sunshine that followed had brought on none of the tell-tale greening that might indicate the start of a recovery. Even in enemy territory, the blight that was taking the land pressed on them like a weight, trying to steal any joy or hope that might wander into their thoughts.

  That night a gibbous moon peeked out from behind the scattered clouds that, driven by a cool breeze, danced across the sky. They took their time at a late supper, small and not very filling, but somehow lingering over what they did have made it better. They had had a good march that day, the flat land and the scarcity of crops and people leaving them unhindered. They had just started to plan the watch when Luke stood up and pointed to the east. “What’s that?”

  In the distance, an orange flame was visible. As they watched it appeared to divide, what they at first thought of as one light actually closer to a dozen.

  “Campfires?” Darius asked. “A small detachment heading to or back from the war?”

  “Maybe,” Silas said, but his tone indicated he did not think it to be the case.

  After a few more seconds, Adrianna stated what they all were seeing. “Whatever they are, they’re coming this way.”

  “Help me put out the fire,” Darius said to Luke. The Stoneman boys quickly extinguished the small blaze, but the approaching objects did not slow or turn aside.

  “Let’s get our things and move off a bit,” Silas said. “If they were heading for the light of our fire, perhaps they’ll miss us.”

  As they grabbed their packs, Darius leaned close to Silas. “You don’t think the fire is what is drawing them, do you?” He tapped his own pack, in case Silas was missing his reference to the Book of Dread.

  “We’ll see,” was all the cleric would say.

  They took a path perpendicular to the line of the approaching objects to their camp, and five minutes later stopped to take stock of the situation. It was difficult to judge distance on the open plain, more so at night, but it was clear now that the flames were closer and that they were moving at a speed greater than the travelers could hope to attain of foot. It also appeared the lights were still coming straight at them.

  “Best we find a spot to make a stand and get ready to do so,” Darius said.

  Silas concurred. “If we have to fight, better to do so when we’re not winded. Doesn’t look like we can outrun them anyway.”

  Defensible ground was in short supply in this part of Dalusia. The best they could manage was a cluster of four trees that had a pair of decent-sized rocks jutting up from the ground just outside of the rough square they formed. Without bows, Adrianna was the only one who could launch a strike from any sort of distance, although they still hoped whatever was approaching meant them no harm. She took up station behind one of the rear trees and calmed her mind, ready to cast a quick spell if it was needed, while the others took shelter where they could

  “You seeing what I’m seeing?” Silas asked Barlow, his voice tight with concern.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” the paladin replied. He pulled Gabriel an inch out of its scabbard, just enough to confirm that it had taken on a soft white glow, then slid it back, not wanting the light to give away his position.

  The others all heard the exchange and saw the glow of the sword. They steeled themselves while Silas muttered a short prayer for himself and his friends.

  The flames roared closer, the fact that they were steeds of fire now apparent. Harder to make out were their riders, cloaked figures hunched low over the necks of their fiery mounts.

  The horses and riders were on them suddenly and then past, but before the hidden companions could even hope they would continue on, they turned back and circled the small band of travelers. They spread out, surrounding the little copse of trees and making it impossible for any of the companions to remain out of sight.

  There was little doubt about the origin of the horses. They seemed less horses ablaze than creatures of fire that took the shape of horses, the flames constantly and subtly shifting their outlines but not consuming them or their riders. The ground their hooves touched hissed and spat, tendrils of black smoke wafting skyward. The riders now revealed themselves to be spawn of the same fiery pit, casting aside their cloaks in preparation for battle. Mottled gray-and-red skin, slick as if with sweat, covered their muscular forms. Their faces were pulled into perpetual frowns, sharp teeth, pointed ears, and short horns adding weight to their gruesome visages. But it was their eyes that were the most unearthly, blazing with the same orange fire of which the horses were composed. Looking into those eyes, one could be convinced they were peering into hell itself.

  The demon riders continued to circle in a slow trot, gauging their enemies. Several had bows, and started to fire arrows as their targets tried to dance around and use the rocks in a futile attempt at cover. The arrows were aflame once launched, blazing trails through the darkness that made their paths easy to follow. The demons never paused to light the arrows, the fire bred of some dark magic.

  Darius had no illusio
ns about his own prowess in battle, nor any hope of defeating the enemies before him with a simple sword. But he had seen enough of war to know that he and his friends would not hold out long against mounted riders equipped with projectile weapons, and he marked the fact that the demon bowmen did not reach for new arrows, but simply pulled the bowstrings and let fly the blazing shaft that appeared. Dodge as he might, he would eventually tire, and one of the endless supply of arrows would find him. Given no good alternative, he took the only path open to him. He charged.

  Darius gave one quick yell as he sprang to his feet and started forward, more to alert his friends than anything else. He focused on a flaming steed that was arcing around into the part of the surrounding circle he moved toward, thinking to take a swipe at the horse to see what effect it might have, and hoping he might continue on outside the circle, forcing the riders to divide their attention and break the rhythm of the encirclement.

  Darius’ shout had not yet faded into the night when the rest of his party sprang into action. Adrianna sent a bolt of electric energy sizzling after one of the riders. The force of the magical bolt knocked it from its mount, but it quickly rolled into a ready position, drawing a long sword and apparently otherwise unharmed. “Need to try something else,” she muttered to herself, even as she slid around the tree, avoiding the searching gaze of the demon she had unseated.

  Silas, Luke, and Barlow followed Darius’ lead, instinctively coming to the same conclusion he had, that they were outnumbered and purely on the defensive. In an organized fight, they had no chance. Chaos was their only hope. Silas took a different angle than Darius, wanting room to operate, but Luke, naturally, followed his brother. Barlow, like Silas, took his own angle into the fray, but unlike the others his charge drew the eyes of all the enemy, for when Gabriel was pulled from its scabbard, its glow painted the night wherever Barlow wielded it. The light was different than at New Bern, the intensity replaced by a pulsing, dull glow, as if the sword was aching to bite into the demons.

  The sword did not deter or frighten the demons; rather, it drew their attention and marked its wielder as a target. But the initial reaction to it, a subtle dropping of their guard, gave the companions a brief moment in which to seize the initiative of the battle.

  Darius didn’t know what it was that distracted the demon he had targeted, nor did he care. He brought his sword up in a sweeping arc, using the momentum of the horse to further strengthen the blow. The demon was taken in the ribs, a deep gash opening and spilling black blood as he was unseated. The horse, startled by Darius’ attack and the loss of its rider, reared, snorting smoke and flame, and Darius had to pull back from both its flailing hooves and the heat it cast off. Luke however, sweeping in at a different angle, was able to finish the demon before it could collect itself. It vanished in a puff of thick, acrid smoke.

  Adrianna used the circular pattern the riders had chosen to her advantage. She cast another spell, this one putting an invisible wall of force in the path of the horses. The first horse slammed into the barrier, crumpling awkwardly while its rider was thrown forward. Two other horses became tangled with the first, and soon they were on the ground as well.

  Silas took full advantage of the confusion Adrianna had wrought. Despite his cleric’s robes and gentle disposition, Silas was a well-trained and highly skilled warrior, and he was in top physical form. The three unhorsed riders, their brains already addled by the impact of their violent falls, were not expecting such skilled opposition. Silas dispatched them before they could raise an adequate defense.

  Barlow was less technically skilled as a fighter than Silas, and age had weakened his muscles and slowed his reflexes, but Gabriel more than made up for any deficiencies in a fight against denizens of the underworld. The sword, hungry for such prey, drew incredible power from its own otherworldly source, but that power was channeled through Barlow, and during the fighting, that same power gave him an inner strength far beyond what he could hope to muster on his own. The first demon to reach Barlow found its wild, powerful swing parried with ease, and was stunned to see that its sword had shattered. It looked from the sword to Barlow, a shocked look on its cruel face, and then felt Gabriel’s bite, the blade easily cleaving it in two.

  The next demon came on more cautiously, seeing what had befallen its comrade, but drawn inexorably by the sword, which marked Barlow as a kill that would bring extra rewards from its master. It feigned an attack on Barlow’s knees, then drove in close, not thinking to finish the paladin as much as to tie him up, to use its superior physical strength rather than duel with swords. And as it did so, its fellow demons were closing in from Barlow’s flanks and rear.

  Adrianna saw what was happening, and had no time to get more creative with her magic. She simply shouted at Silas, pointing at Barlow and his obvious need of aid, then cast the wall of force spell again, this time sending it flying toward the combatants. Casting a spell again so soon after the first normally would leave it weak, but the adrenaline created by the battle gave her strength and focus. Four demons were flung aside, as was Barlow.

  Silas was running toward the paladin when the spell hit, and he didn’t break stride even as his friend and the demons near him were tossed to the ground. He leapt over one of the demons, wishing he could take it out before it recovered but knowing he needed to reach Barlow before one of the demons did. Barlow was trying to gather himself, laying face down and groping for Gabriel, which was a foot out of his reach. The demon nearest him rose to its knees and found its sword first. It had eyes only for the prone paladin, and pulled the sword back over its head with both hands, wanting to deliver one spectacular finishing blow. Before it could do so, Silas’ staff crushed in the side of its head.

  The cleric’s momentum carried him past the now-vanished demon, into another that had joined the fray. This one held out a muscular forearm, which Silas could not avoid. Despite Silas’ size and speed the demon easily took the contact, and Silas’ feet flew out from underneath him. He slammed hard into the ground, his breath leaving him in one loud grunt.

  The demon brought its sword down, but Silas managed to block the blow with his staff. The demon used its leverage and strength, pushing the staff down toward Silas’ throat, meaning to use the cleric’s own weapon to strangle the life out of him. Then, in a quick puff of smoke, it was gone.

  Darius stood where the demon had been, breathing hard. He had seen the danger and raced over, dispatching the demon before it realized its own peril.

  “Look out,” Barlow gasped, having just struggled to his knees.

  Darius reacted more to the alarm in Barlow’s eyes than to his voice. He dropped just as a flaming arrow passed overhead.

  Several of the demons had remained at a distance, and although Adrianna’s earlier spell had taken away their willingness to ride at speed, they tried to take advantage of the sudden grouping of their enemies, realizing the arrows had a better chance of hitting home.

  Adrianna, seeing the demons also grouped and knowing one strong blast could scatter them, tried to cast again, too soon. The spell fizzled and died, doing damage only to the caster. She swooned, her head spinning, and had to steady herself against the nearest tree to keep upright.

  Silas, Barlow, and Darius all found their feet, and started toward the hell-bred bowmen, but Luke reached them first. He had managed to come up behind them, and with a vicious thrust ran one through.

  The skewered demon’s horse leaped, startled at the attack, and the other mounts reacted as well, causing the once tight group to scatter. Luke tried to swipe at one more rider before it could escape, but missed, nearly tumbling to the ground as he lost his balance. Just as he was righting himself, one of the demons wheeled and fired.

  The blazing arrow took Luke through the shoulder. He cried out in pain, first from the passage of the shaft, and then from the flames that continued to blaze from it. Instinctively he dropped and rolled, trying to douse the fire, but the action only served to work the arrow violently ba
ck and forth, further aggravating the initial wound.

  Darius cut his charge short and went instead to his brother. He would have made an easy target then, but Silas and Barlow reached the riders, their weapons doing grim work. Whether by spell or compulsion, the riders did not flee or simply try to gain distance and strike again, but rather fought the two men. In close, the bows were no match for either the staff of the muscular cleric or for Gabriel.

  Darius slapped at the arrow lodged in his brother’s shoulder, trying frantically to beat out the flames even as he tried to soothe Luke with promises of help and relief from the pain. But the dark magic imbued to the arrow continued on even after the demon that had delivered it was no more, and Darius’ hands were soon raw and blistered. As Luke’s cries became more anguished, he struggled to get away from his brother, the madness of his agony overtaking him. Darius knew he was running out of time. Wrapping his hands in his cloak he broke the head of the arrow off, then pulled the remaining shaft free. He tossed the parts of the arrow aside, and the flames finally died down.

  Luke ground his teeth, biting off a scream.

  “It’s okay,” Darius said. “You’re going to be fine. Silas and Barlow will be able to help.”

  Luke nodded, accepting the words even as his expression showed doubt and fear. The wound still felt like it was on fire, and Luke started to wonder if anything would ever be able to stop that awful sensation. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he envisioned himself burning up from the inside, the victim of foul magic.

  Silas and Barlow arrived, the cleric forcing a smile and putting a reassuring hand on Luke’s good shoulder. “Lie still.”

  Barlow started to kneel as well, then caught himself. His sword had continued with that pale white throbbing glow, which he thought due to the flaming horses which meandered about, the steeds unsure what to do or where to go without their riders. Now he saw that one demon remained, still sitting atop a horse some distance off. He had remained hooded, and had simply observed the battle. Now with slow, deliberate movements he dismounted and pulled off his cloak.