The Demon's Blade (15 page)

"I don't know, what?" Jerris grumbled. "I hate riddles."

"That isn't surprising. Riddles require patience, and a clear mind. If you seize upon the first thought that enters your head and focus exclusively on it, you will never consider all possible meanings of the words. That is the essence of riddle making, and answering."

"So what, and you didn't answer my question."

Darien sighed and then spoke. "Stop arguing, be silent, clear your mind, and consider everything that I have said. The answer is right in front of you, but you don't see it because you're so focused on one tiny piece of the puzzle." Jerris opened his mouth to speak again, but Darien scowled sternly to silence the lad. For several minutes, Jerris stewed and fidgeted, letting out an occasional unintelligible grumble. Then, he finally settled down, and rode along quietly. After perhaps an hour had passed, Darien spoke again.

"Well, now that you've had some time to consider the problem, do you have an answer?"

"I have a guess," Jerris replied. "You meant that I just react to whatever is right in front of me, or whatever I just heard, and I forget everything else."

"Good, very good," The other said slowly. "Now you're thinking, but to be more precise, you react to whatever you're feeling, not what you're thinking, and you end up not thinking at all, just reacting to whatever happens, bouncing from one point to the next like a deer being driven by a pack of wolves. It's a habit you'll need to break if you ever hope to be the hunter instead of the prey."

"Alright, I see your point," Jerris said. "So how do you do it? You seem like you never react to anything at all. Do you feel anything, or have you killed so many people that it's all games and riddles to you?"

Darien did not react to Jerris’ remark, though he laughed to himself. That insult was actually quite impressive, he thought. It was clever, and it took guile to actually say it to me. Still, it will take more than that to actually get to me.

"No. It's not all games and riddles," he replied calmly. "Quite the opposite. I consider everything I do and say carefully and thoroughly. I do not react hastily, or casually."

"Didn't get to you, did I?" Jerris said with a disappointed look on his face. "Can't say that I'm surprised."

"You're not entirely wrong, either." Darien continued. "I have killed a great many men, and goblins, orcs, dwarves, ogres, and every other race that dared to oppose the Master. Shades are taught, from the moment we are first accepted as apprentices, to remain calm in all situations. We are taught to suppress our feelings. 'Feelings make you weak, they distract you from what must be done. Never kill out of anger or fear or any other emotion. You should always kill exactly who you mean to, and when you mean to' he used to say."

"The Demon King said that? I would have thought he enjoyed killing and torturing from what you've told me," Jerris remarked.

"No, not the Demon King."

"Then who was it?" Jerris leaned in curiously.

Darien hesitated for a moment, the memory of his old teacher flashing momentarily into his mind then vanishing again into the ether. "His name was Kirin," he finally answered. "The Master does not train new recruits initially. In fact, he rarely trains anyone personally. I was a… special case. But, for the first several years, I was taught by a shade named Kirin. He was a half-elf like myself. He first taught me what it meant to be a shade… or at least what he thought it meant…," Darien trailed off.

"What happened to him? Will you have to fight him, do you think?"

"No. He was executed for treason many years ago." The Executioner tried to remember exactly how it had happened, but the memory evaded him, like so many others from before he claimed the Demon Sword.

After perhaps another hour of silence, Jerris rode up alongside Darien again. "So, what is it now?" Darien asked.

"It's… something Tobin said to you. He said he knew about the weapon you carried and then looked at that sword you carry on your back," the lad asked nervously, his voice trembling noticeably. "I wasn't sure what it meant, but the look on his face when he said it was…," Jerris stopped, took a deep breath, then continued, "well, it was odd. He seemed frightened, even terrified. When I thought about it, I realized that I've never seen you take that sword out of that sheath on your back, not when you first fought those thugs, not when we encountered the Duke, nor any other time, but you always have it with you. It’s sort of odd to keep something so close that you never use."

"You're quite perceptive when you're not overreacting," the Executioner remarked. "Tobin probably assumed you already knew. I intended to tell you, but I wasn't sure you were ready, or that I was."

"What is it?" Jerris asked. "Is it cursed or something?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," Darien answered, easing his horse to a stop, and looking Jerris straight in the eye. "The weapon I carry is one that even you should have heard of, and it is the principle reason the Master hunts me. It was, and is, the source of his magical power. You see, this is the Demon Sword, made by the elves long ago to match the power of their enemies."

"That's... That's impossible," The lad stuttered, dumbfounded, his face suddenly ghostly white in the dim cavern. "You mean that legend is actually true? My mother told me that tale as a child. I thought it was just a myth. How do you know that's the Demon Sword, and how do you have it?"

"That part is simple, and should have been obvious anyway. Varias, my old master, used the power of this weapon to make himself into what he is now, the Demon King. His form now matches the frightening power he wields. I have seen his power, and it provides ample evidence that this is the Demon Sword," Darien explained, his voice low and hushed. "I managed to figure out where it was, then steal it. I managed to escape, fled north, and have been wandering ever since. It's been around five years since I escaped."

"Five years? Then how do you still have it? The legends say the voices of demons drove its holders mad."

"That question, I'm afraid I can't answer very well." The mage answered, "The Demon Sword nearly drove me to madness when I first stole it, but by chance or by some design of fate, I met a man who cast a spell upon me to slow the progress of the corruption. As long as I don't use the sword, the spell will delay the sword's effects for an indefinite period of time, not forever, but hopefully long enough for me to figure out what to do with it."

"Why do you carry it around if you can't use it? Why not hide it somewhere he won't find it, and be rid of it entirely?"

"I didn't mean I can’t use the sword," Darien said. "I only meant that it would be dangerous for me to use it. The old man told me the spell would weaken if I tried to use the sword. However, I would use it if the need were great enough, and if I had no other way to escape from a situation. As for hiding it, that wouldn't do any good at all. The sword binds itself to whoever picks it up, just as demons used to possess the bodies of mortals like us. It wouldn't matter how far away I ran, nor would it do any good if someone else took it. I would still be bound to it, and it to me. It only binds to one person at a time, and becomes something like an extension of that person's own body, an arm that cannot be severed."

"Alright," Jerris acknowledged, "but if the Demon King had it first, how did it bind itself to you? Wouldn't it have stayed bound to the Demon King?"

"It would have, if it had ever been bound to him in the first place, but the situation is more complicated than it seems. He made a crystal to contain the sword and slowly drain its power. Somehow, it protected him from the madness, and allowed him to use the demon sword as a magical fountain, from which he could draw small amounts of energy over time, and transfer that energy into himself. His purpose all along was to drain the sword's power indirectly without wielding the sword itself. He never touched the blade directly, and was never bound to it as I am. His plan was very clever, and nearly perfect. However, he still became connected to the sword in some way. Either he can’t, or won’t, sever his connection to it. I can't really explain it since I don't completely understand it myself, but now that the sword is bound to me, it has begun to pull back against him, draining his power and strengthening itself. That is why he pursues me so ruthlessly. The old man who cast the spell on me explained all this to me. My instincts tell me that he spoke the truth, but I don’t know for certain he was right. If we actually find this hidden elf city, perhaps they’ll know something about this weapon. It was the elves who made it." Darien watched Jerris closely for any reaction. He half expected the boy to run back to Vorog, or to pass out from shock. Surprisingly, neither of these two things occurred.

"Alright, as unbelievable as that sounds, I suppose I believe it, coming from you," Jerris remarked. "It's an incredible story, but it makes sense. I had been wondering why the Demon King was trying so hard to hunt down one person." Jerris then paused for a few moments and added, "There’s just one more thing that bothers me. Why did you steal the sword? You knew what it was. Didn’t you realize what would happen?”

“Of course I did, Jerris.” He paused, wondering how best to explain, how much of his past to reveal to the boy’s innocent curiosity. “You must understand; I did not intend to escape from the Master. I intended to kill him, then myself. Only after I failed did I decide to run.”

“But…why? Why go so far to kill him? What did he…”

“Enough!” Darien interrupted harshly. “There are some questions better left unasked. I had my reasons, none of which are of any particular importance now. Leave it at that.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No need for apologies, but you should be wary of asking men about their past. Many have secrets that are best left hidden.” Darien used his most tolerant and forgiving tone. “Now, was there anything else?”

“No, I suppose not. Thanks for telling me,” Jerris said as he shrugged, his fear seemingly forgotten. “I suppose I should be afraid, but for some reason I'm not. I actually feel better knowing the whole truth.”

Darien sat upon his horse, dumbfounded, and marveled at the youth. He had expected quite a different reaction. When Tobin had recognized the sword, the old dwarf had turned white and backed into one of his bookcases, sending tomes toppling down upon him and nearly overturning the entire thing. Jerris, on the other hand, had been more apprehensive about riding a horse than about traveling with the most terrible weapon ever made. "You're welcome, I suppose,"

The hours dragged onward as they continued down the long descent. In the timeless emptiness of the underpass, it became impossible to judge how long they rode, but after what must have been several tedious hours, the path widened and leveled off. Side tunnels began to appear regularly along the right hand wall, some small semicircular tunnels like the underpass, some like doorways of long abandoned dwellings, and a few like the burrows of some great tunneling creature. Darien felt uneasy, staring into the dark emptiness of the passages. Enemies could be hiding in any one of them, each an ideal location for an ambush.

While the cautious Executioner was uneasy, the horses were even more so, especially the younger colt, Cloud. The beast stopped and issued noisy protests a number of times, as if perceiving some unseen danger. Finally, the horse would go no further, rearing up and neighing loudly. Terra, though more calm than her younger comrade, showed signs of tension, her ears laying back and her head low.

“What do you think is wrong with the horses?” Jerris asked.

“I’m not sure. Maybe nothing, but animals can often sense danger that we cannot. Stay here, I’ll make my way up the path to see if I can see anything,” the older half-elf replied.

He got down from the saddle, and walked a few yards ahead, finding nothing. He checked the first few yards of each side passage as he went along, keeping alert for traps, spells, ambushers, and other dangers. He covered a distance of about thirty yards, moving from one passage to the next.

He turned to go back to get the horses when he suddenly realized something important. The horses had fallen dead silent. Their heads were down and they were still as death. He had seen animals behave this way before. They were tensed, ready to bolt, aware of danger but uncertain from which direction it would come.

Then Darien heard it, a faint, chittering, clicking sound, like hundreds of tiny fingers tapping on the walls some distance away. Already he knew what was coming.

“Jerris, take the horses back up the passageway, now!” he shouted.

“Why? What’s going on?” the lad shouted back.

“Don’t ask questions. There’s no time. Just do it!” This time, hearing the urgency in the shade’s voice, Jerris complied.

The Executioner drew his sword, and focused his senses, trying to ascertain where the creature would come from. The chittering seemed to come from several directions at once, echoing out of every dark opening. He focused on the largest semicircular passage, but that proved to be a poor choice. He never saw from which passage the creature appeared, only that it must have emerged somewhere further down the main tunnel. He scarcely noticed in time to dodge the flurry of hooked, snake-like appendages that assailed him, leaping back up the main underpass tunnel and rolling as he landed, and turning to face his assailant.

Though he knew what creature he faced, the enormous bulk of the beast shocked him still. He had never seen an adult gloom crawler in person. The most striking feature of the beast was the enormous shell upon its back, a jet black dome easily large enough to accommodate a loaded ox cart beneath. The hard shell bore large hornlike projections regularly spaced upon a rough scaly black surface, but this was not the principle danger. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of milky white, slime coated appendages emerged from the bottom edge of the dome shell on all sides of the beast. Each one was equipped with a single razor sharp claw at the tip, each a chisel for chipping and digging at hard mountain stone of its home, and equally capable of tearing through armor and rending flesh. The only way to tell the front of the monster from the back was a slight deviation in the shell’s bottom edge, an upward notch that marked the beast’s head. From that arch in the shell six longer appendages, two eyestalks, and a tube shaped mouth, emerged. Row upon row of gleaming white teeth lined the inside of the beast’s tubular maw. The longer appendages could reach several yards in front of the monster, each equipped with grasping three-clawed talons.