The Slayarians - Book One by JM Barnes (the best electronic book reader .TXT) 📕

very soon you will see your next and most pivotal followers.”
Humbled and stricken with the inspiring kindness of Gaea, Stingara melted as a shadow into the etched floor. The others could not believe they’d gone along with the night goddess, neither could they believe they’d nearly forgotten how mighty sweet Gaea truly was. Her image alone was enough to strip deception from the very goddess of thieves! They felt no more guilt. The mother had eliminated that notion. Now they felt an urge so strong they barely remained where they sat. An urge to peer at all of Earth’s denizens to find candidates for the new Slayarians.
Astnalia sensed the hope she and Anghar had spread among the children and rejoiced. She blessed them all and before she departed the abyssal realm she appeared in all her omnipotent glory before the angry Demonslayer souls. One by one, they left Halren's tower and headed toward the kingdom of their respective patrons, all now realizing the wisdom of Gaea and their own foolishness for ever questioning her. They recalled how careless they had become, how selfish in life. Though they still revered their gods the lack of any demonic foes had made them forget what their ancestors had stood for. They thought their duty was finished with demons alone but they were wrong and they all paid with their lives, lives that were becoming empty and unfocused. Personal gain and the power of station was becoming more important than the glory of vanquishing evil, be that evil demon or otherwise. Gaea had seen this and decided to call her wayward children home so that they might relearn who they were and what it was they were supposed to represent.
Here in Nessir’ve they were again true Demonslayers without the distractions of mundane concerns. Those found worthy might even have the chance to be reborn and again serve the gods in life. The wisdom of Astnalia was boundless and her beloved children were joyous in knowing that to be so. Finally the dead rested and celebrated their arrival in Nessir’ve. They thanked Gaea for allowing them to come home regardless of their transgressions and they waited with excitement for word of the few remaining living Slayarians. The most fervent hope of all of the souls, both ancient and new, was that a call would ring out for the mustering of the soul armies. War was a much less daunting thing when one had no fear of losing their life. Actually, war was a promising concept when it might be fought against demon hordes or other god armies.
Unlike demons the souls of Nessir’ve could not be destroyed by anything short of a god. So if they lost a war one day they could return the next completely restored while the enemy would be sorely weakened. This was why no demon or the like ever directly challenged the gods or their soul armie’s. Astnalia had strengthened her armies in the spirit realm and left her mortal followers to grow stronger upon the mortal one. The few survivors would become as strong and wise as their ancestors under the duress of being so few. All praised the wisdom of Astnalia, mother and protector of us all.


CHAPTER 16
BROKEN TIES


Watchmaster Brolin Lenkeft rose unsteadily from the table, spilling the remaining stale ale from his mug in the process. He fumbled momentarily for his cloak hanging from the back of his chair, knocking it over as well with a solid backhand as if it had somehow offended him. Several of his watchmen gave hearty laughs and cheered his victory over the chair, holding their mugs high in salute. A serving wench passing by suddenly found herself wrapped in the large cloak and pulled in tight against the barrel chest of the burly watchmaster. Her eyes watered at the foul mixture of odors that clung to this so called protector of the people.
“Look at this mess you’ve here, wench! Yer a sad excuse for a serving girl but you’d make a fine whore I’m betting.” He leaned down still holding the struggling girl tight and ran his wet tongue from her chin to her ear.
Gagging from the stench of his ale laden breath and the scent of rotting onions which wafted from under his stained military tunic she took the dirty wash rag from her apron and wiped the slimy residue from her cheek. Having had enough of this game the watchmaster flung the girl free of his cloak. She spun wildly for a moment coming to rest with a thud upon the table from which he had risen. Her bottom was soaked with spilled ale as she rose silently off of the table. She clenched her teeth and remained silent in the face of jests from the other watchmen as she started to clean the spilled drink and toppled chair.
Outside the tavern Brolin stopped to take a breath of air and regain a bit of his senses. It had been a long night and a profitable one too. He had won many games of dice and of course drank for free. It was good to be king, or in his case watchmaster. He laughed to himself as he stomped into the muddy street leaving the noise of the Twisted Ogre tavern behind.

^ ^ ^

Tolbin Friel glanced about nervously at the shadows cast by the flickering street lanterns hanging at intervals along Bay Street. Boxes and crates stacked along the roadside before the warehouses that fronted the Mourning Bay crowded the street making it seem more an alley. A bead of sweat formed on the spice merchant’s bald forehead and ran its way around his right eye and down his temple to his neck where it disappeared beneath his silver threaded shirt. Behind him something skittered into a space between two crates. His pudgy fingered hand went to his side as he whirled about toward the sound. He fumbled with the pommel lock on his dagger sheath frantic to release the dull blade from its resting spot. When finally he held the dagger shakily before him he saw nothing but shadows and crates before him.
“Damn sewer rats.” Tolbin pulled a silk handkerchief from the pocket of his blue surcoat, as he turned back to his vigil upon the street, and dabbed at his sweat covered head and face.
As he lowered the damp cloth from his face he gave a short startled gasp as a hand clamped over his mouth. Fingers dug sharply into his cheeks holding firm to his face. Another hand gripped his wrist in a vice like lock. His brown eyes bulged as he looked into the face of the tall man who held him firm. The tall man peered close at the shaking merchant that he held.
He brought his hook nosed face close to that of his captive and gave the merchant a sparse toothed grin. “You’d be counted a wise man if ya dropped that pig sticker before I get the impression ya be thinking me an oinker.”
The sound of the falling dagger was muffled as the tall hook nosed man caught the dagger on the top of his boot. With a flick of his foot he sent the dagger into the air beside himself. He released his grip on the merchant’s wrist and caught the dagger by the sweaty grip and slid it gently into his worn leather belt.
“Now, sir spice man, that we have the formalities out of the way let us get to the heart of the matter?” He helped the trembling spice merchant to nod before releasing the grip on the man's face.
Tolbin tried vainly to compose himself by smoothing his surcoat and dabbing at his profusely sweating head.
“You gave me quite a start good man” His voice quivered with obvious nervousness.
The hook nosed man glanced down at a spreading wet spot, which had appeared in the center of the rotund mans blue trousers, and scoffed.
“So I noticed. You have been making inquiries about services ya need rendered. I am here to listen to your requests and make judgment on your needs. Speak freely and quickly my time is costly.”
The spice merchant began to speak in hushed tones telling a tale of underground trading looked over by the town watchmen in exchange for kickbacks paid in gold coin at the start of every month. At the start of this Octenbur things had changed horribly. Watchmaster Brolin had come personally to his modest shop in the business district to collect the month’s payment. When Tolbin had produced the pouch of gold for the Watchmaster, Brolin pocketed it then told him the price had doubled. Being a spice merchant was not an extremely lucrative business but it kept his family clothed and sheltered with enough left over to pay for the schooling of his daughters. Even with the extra that he made in the underground trade of some outlawed herbs he was by no means a wealthy man. Tolbin pleaded with the Watchmaster to understand and finally Brolin nodded.
“Very well, I will have to garner my payment from you some other way.” He gazed about the shop filled with aisles of exotic herbs and spices brought in from all corners of the world. Just then Amelisia the fair haired and youngest daughter of the merchant stepped into the shop from a doorway covered with a beaded curtain. She wore a simple dress of blue with yellow flowers. Around her waist was tied a work apron and in her hand she held a feather duster that had seen better days. She smiled warmly at her father and the Watchmaster, apparently oblivious as to what was transpiring. She began to lightly dust the many jars and vials on the shelves. Brolin’s eyes looked hungrily at the young girl like a wolf drooling over a straggling lamb. Brolin reached over the wooden counter top and grabbed the merchant by his shirt collar. He laid the pouch of gold that he had pocketed back on the counter and whispered into his ear.
“I am a fair man Tolbin so hear now how payment shall be made. One...no, two hours spent in the company of the sweet lass yonder and I’ll consider this month and next paid in full. That will give you time to gather the proper amount of coinage for the next payment.” He smiled ruefully at the trembling merchant.
Before the merchant could protest his face slammed hard into the counter top. A blaze of stars clouded his vision and he could hear his daughter screaming for him over and over. He tried to stand but only managed to roll over and moan in pain and anguish. Then all was silent in the Spice of Life shop.
When he had regained his senses, his wife and eldest daughter were beside him in hysterics. He could not call the town watch for Brolin was master. He couldn’t go to the town’s council of elders for it would be weeks before a scheduled hearing and in the meantime he would be at the mercy of the Watchmaster. He could only wait and pray to the gods for the