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

dark master could enter his mind and impart some important advice as a vision. Inebriated, a vision could be dismissed unintentionally as a hallucination. The Darkbringer would not be amused. The shaman was also unmoved when one of the women was slain by one of his four personal guards for nothing more than spilling some ale. It hardly mattered since all of the women were to be sacrificed at dawn. The two chosen to survive had not been given the mind clouding herb since they were needed to care for their children. Each woman had been unwillingly impregnated by Kel’nart himself the shaman’s only true concern was that the babes survive until they to could be sacrificed. Dardiax was a demanding patron.
Some time during the midpoint of the night’s chaos Kel’nart received the vision he had been hoping for. In his mind he heard the not so subtle demand for his attention as a vision most vile and cruel appeared to his mind’s eye. The shaman saw himself standing over a pyre upon which were cast the living bodies of the women his men currently were abusing. Standing amidst the burning flesh and bone was his strongest warrior willingly sacrificing himself for his master. Through this sacrifice Kel’nart sensed that his and their places among the Darkbringer’s favorites would be assured. Never mind the eternal torment they would find. They would be satisfied with the rewards of the mortal realm that his master had assured him. Nothing short of Dardiax being dethroned in the Abyss would take that away.
At dawn Kel’nart shook his men awake one by one, some of them still in the embrace of one of the unsuspecting women. Without complaint the men gathered away from the camp and listened to their leader’s commands. Many of the warriors grew angry when they heard about the shaman’s plans to burn the wenches but still none would disobey him. At least not when he held the favor of Dardiax.
It wasn’t long before all of the poor women were knocked unconscious and heaped upon the main fire. Fourteen women were unceremoniously burned alive. It was so horrid a sight most of the men could not bear to watch, though wicked Kel’nart would not allow them to turn away. The shaman watched his men closely. Near forty bloody and evil men could hardly stand to look as the women they had abused, tortured and raped countless times burned upon the pyre. Weaklings, every one. The shaman had not chosen the warrior who would join the sacrifice for he was unsure which was the strongest. He peered intently at each man’s face, searching for the one who seemed the least affected by the sight before them.
The flames soon roared and the stench made many of the men vomit up the ale they had over consumed the night before. The sounds of gagging and coughing filled the morning’s grim silence and nearly masked the bellowing roar of something unseen. Kel’nart stood up straight and called unsuccessfully for quiet. Wracked with convulsing gullets most of the men could barely stand. Four men though, who had not imbibed as much as the others, started walking through the crowd and shaking awareness into the hung over wretches. They were the chosen bodyguard of Kel’nart and they always commanded respect. So, after a moment, which was too long by his thinking, the weakened warriors scrambled for their weapons.
By the time the chaos was over the shaman was consumed with a mixture of excitement and terror. Then suddenly standing behind and over the burning pile of bodies was a fearsome creature beyond anything he had ever imagined. As tall as nearly two men it had a white furred bear head and spikes jutted from its every joint. Its body was muscled like an ogrish monster, and its hands were massive, unstoppable bear claws.
Nearly speechless Kel’nart fell to his knees and swore, “By the Darkbringer what power is this?”
The creature was unmoved and seemed to smile but that would be impossible since it was hindered with bear features. It took one long step toward the groveling shaman and was attacked by one of Kel’nart’s bodyguards. Clearly that man was the bravest or at least the most loyal since the rest of the men had already fled. The demon, Bor’slovahn as he was named by his maker, backhanded the offending mortal and catapulted the fool directly into the crackling pyre. The man could not scream for his upper torso had been mangled completely by the casual swing. His death had already arrived before his flesh was consumed. Then arose that terrible voice.
“Mortal servant, hear the words of Bor’slovahn!” Bellowed the demon. Kel’nart was stunned and amazed, unable to even move under the cunning gaze of the fearsome monster.
“Demonslayers yet exist, the vigil must begin again. This forest is yours to watch, human, Bor’slovahn will hunt beyond it. Fail and die, succeed and be rewarded!” Upon uttering that final sentence the demon turned around and began his fated hunt.
Kel’nart could not move until Bor’slovahn was out of sight. Screams told him that the demon had found some of his cowardly men and he could only shake his head wryly. The Darkbringer must be strong indeed if a creature such as that one served him. Of course, Kel’nart was still able to channel the power of Dardiax so he was not aware that his dark lord had been cast down. Thanks in part to a Demonslayer no less.
The sizzle of burning flesh drew the shaman’s gaze and again Kel’nart praised his master. He had been torn over which of his men to use to complete the sacrifice but the demonic intrusion had saved him from having to do so. He knew that his men did not relish the thought of sacrificing one of their own. Bad enough their playthings had been taken away from them but one of their lifelong comrades would have been too much to bear even for they’re evil souls.
The spiked demon had spoken of the cursed Demonslayers as if they still existed. Kel’nart had been there at the attack on Slayaria and he thought differently. Ever since that day cultists had been keeping they’re wicked watch over the lands, waiting for any sign of the Demonslayers. There had been none. Even far to the east the Demonslayers had been destroyed and any sign of them buried. It could have been possible that a few slayers were wandering the Abyss during the attack and had no idea about it but without their brethren to open the way for them in the mortal realm those stragglers would have been trapped in the dark realm. Surely, Kel’nart thought to himself as he prepared to rally his warriors, Dardiax laid a simple path before him. Let any lone Demonslayer wander too close to Kel’nart’s purveyance. His power was strong and his men bloodthirsty. “Let any foolish Slayarian beware…”, swore Kel’nart, lackey of demon kind.


CHAPTER 28
THE PIECES IN PLACE


Anghar heard the thoughts of the evil shaman as he watched him through his favorite shield. He also witnessed Bor’slovahn quietly stalking through the Germanic timberland. The god of battle could only smile to himself as he wondered how his favored Demonslayer would react to this new demon.
Anghar suspected Darkon's thirst for vengeance over the death of his beloved Sevele would manifest and Halren would fuel the young warrior’s rage. Bor’slovahn would undoubtedly be a deadly foe but Demonslayers were born to destroy such foes. As far as the god of battle and cold was concerned, things were going according to his godly design. Darkon grew wiser and his growing band of allies had been showing great potential as future slayers.
Still, there were many tests yet to come for all of the remaining Demonslayers. The ancient relics of ceremony, initiation and protection had to be returned to Slayaria and its populace restored. All of this had to be done before the Unifier began his long foretold Earth cleansing. Though the mortals of Earth were born from the gods and gods were born of the very essence of life, Gaea, demon kind still clung maniacally to the idea that the Earth was theirs. Once a peace loving people they had been twisted irrevocably by the elder sorcery that reshaped them before life even began on Earth. The three fates of Asgaard had ages ago foreseen the coming of the unifier and his evil efforts to retake the world. They would not reveal the outcome of the demon’s war to anyone but did say that fate could only be changed by the gods. Already the course of events had been changed though, when Krosten had been instructed to order the clans to choose a favored child to be sent to safety. Some clans went as far as to send two children in hopes that their clan would be someday reborn.
Aeleostrimine, the Slayarian goddess of nature and change, smiled upon her people that day. By invoking change to the god’s commands they had almost assured some change to the prophecy told by the three fates so long ago. The three sisters, young, middle-aged and old alike bristled at the course of events. They had been proven wrong. Mortals could indeed change fate.
Now though, the gods only looked on and waited for their time. Godly intervention had ever been a rare event but much changed when the fate of an entire race was in question.
Anghar recalled Throngaer’s urgent message to him from a mortal decade before and harrumphed in disdain. The other earthly pantheons frowned upon direct intervention and surely noticed any godly presence upon Earth. Since that was so the other pantheons, including those who had thought they had annihilated Astnalia’s children, were now aware they had not been completely successful. None of the seven direct godchildren knew what to expect from the haughty pantheons but another confrontation seemed inevitable.
Recently Thor, Norse god of thunder, had been sensed storming through the Abyss. Seemingly without purpose the battle hungry son of Odin was causing havoc wherever his course led him.
Anghar had battled Thor long ago when he and his brethren were accused before Gaea. The god of Battle and cold very nearly destroyed the favorite son of Odin single handedly and Thor was surely eager for a chance to restore his honor.
Anghar had no desire to battle any god who was not evil but he knew a second fight with Thor might be to the bitter end. He was god of all things cold as well as battle. That included cold weather, ice and the like of course, but also it meant cold steel and colder hearts. Anghar would, if needed, destroy any god or being that tried to directly interfere with his affairs. With cold logic and an icy stare Anghar would plunge his