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

home of a priest of Silvanus, a god of nature. Galen simply walked in, as Darkon stood uncertain at the doorway. Eventually he entered and was greeted by the strong smells of incense burning and another sour scent he thought he may know.
Windowless, the home was dark. Barely lit by candles and cracks from the doorway an older man, plump yet full of life, sat watching him as his eyes adjusted to the light or lack of it.His features were hidden beneath a deep hood. His cloak smelled like dead animals and Darkon tried not to show his revulsion.
He then said, “Please, sit down young man and tell me your problems and perhaps Silvanus will grant you reprieve.”
Sitting, Darkon told everything he remembered up until that moment. “I don’t know what you can do for me but I am grateful you would so readily see me.”
“No matter, your friend here has taken care of any payment this shall invoke. I will cast a simple prayer of healing upon you, eliminating any damage that remains. This will not immediately return your memory to you but should speed the process.”
Standing, the priest began a low chant and pulled something leafy from his pocket. He then pressed the object with his forefinger to Darkon’s forehead. A greenish glow began to pulse first on his hand then forefinger, then lastly to his patient. The leafy object was gone and Darkon found the constant clamoring in his mind had quieted. Letting out a sigh of relief he relayed this to the priest, thanking him fervently.
The priest though seemed preoccupied with his finger and began running his thumbs over Darkon’s forehead. “Something is on your skin. I’m not sure...it would be easier if you had bathed recently.”
Galen rose and stood beside the older man and asked, “What is it, Kolleb?”
“I’m unsure but its covering what appears to be a scar of some sort. Hand me a candle.” Taking the light closer to Darkon the scar was revealed. It was a perfect rendering of a letter in an archaic language lost to antiquity. Galen and the priest recognized what it was instantly. It resembled a complete circle with a V placed on the upper part of the shape. The very first letter in the word “Demonslayer”.
The priest’s mood suddenly shifted. Hands trembling he muttered, “By Silvanus this cannot be! You are truly a Demonslayer!?” His voice rose in excitement or was it fear? “This is not good! You must cover your head boy and let none see this scar! If word gets out of your whereabouts, hunters and mercenAres will come for you!”
Before he could finish, Galen interrupted and said, “Surely you are not well, Kolleb, the Demonslayers you speak of are only legend.”
Though even as he voiced this Galen knew Kolleb was right. Legends were started somehow, usually with a root of truth.
“There is no time to argue, Galen, you must take him out of here. I do not want any trouble! Please, now go!”
Handing Darkon a black strip of cloth that he tied about his head covering the scar, the priest ushered them out with haste, slamming the door and barring it when they were out. The two stood staring at one another, surprised and stunned at what they’d learned. Galen recalled many fireside tales he’d heard of the Demonslayers but always thought them to be just that, tales.
Darkon was at once elated and stricken with fear. If he was being hunted anyone could be his hunter. He looked about the marketplace in a new light, this time with trepidation.
Galen spoke first, saying, “That clears up some questions, my friend!”
Darkon couldn’t believe Galen still wished to accompany him.
“Still you would befriend me, Galen? Know you that I would hold nothing against you if you wish to go your own way. I do not want your life to be threatened because of me.”
Galen smiled ironically at this, “Know then this Darkon and understand. My royal blood in these lands is a prime target for the same sort that would seek you. I too could be endangering you’re life by my presence alone. So think no more of my leaving. You are as stuck with me as I am you. Besides, your predicament will surely fetch some glorious adventure.”
They both laughed and clenched grips in an iron agreement, each man knowing by the look in the other’s eye that they had a bond now none would break. For the glory of adventure and the righteousness of their blood the men forged an alliance held fast by their unshakable honor.


CHAPTER 3
ARA’MOOR


The woods of Ara’moor. A mystical land covered by ancient trees and inhabited by elves, fearie of all kinds and one, often ignored half elf. Half elves were normally shunned by the elves but this one was an exception. Sevele the beauteous was one of the very rare elven trained half elves. She was one of the great exceptions though still forbidden to bear a last name or any titles proclaiming her a friend of elves. Life had not been easy living alone in these woods. The one thing she did have on her side when dealing with the haughty elves was her unbelievable beauty and personal allure. No elf can ignore beauty in any creature or thing, and Sevele was no exception. Her innocent golden eyes, bouncing waist length greenish black hair and five foot eight curvaceous figure were a force to be reckoned with at any ball.
Yet Sevele had never been to any ball or even a party. Since her childhood she’d lived under the protection of all the folk of the woods. Under the training of elves as a mage she’d only recently been made a guardian of the wood and allowed free reign throughout Ara’moor.
She was patrolling the borders when she first saw him. He was tall and his hair as black as night. Eyes a cold, cold blue and his thick muscular frame spoke of his strength in battle. He walked with a casual readiness, eyes always searching and hand never far from the sword at his side. Sevele was so enchanted with the sight of him she did not even notice the man beside him. Not even when that man saw her and pointed to her hiding spot. At this, the man she could not stop staring at looked directly back at her. She yelped in surprise and suddenly remembered her training. Bolting back through the thick willow trees she left the two far behind.

^ ^ ^

“It looks like your frightening appearance has chased off the locals again.” Galen said.
Appearing not to notice the ribbing Darkon replied, “An elf, I think! She was incredible! We must follow her.”
“Follow her? Why?”
Galen had heard many stories of men being lost in Ara’moor after foolishly following a beautiful fearie into the trees. He did not want to be counted among them. Darkon had no answer for him, he could only run. He felt he had to meet this woman. He needed to hear her voice.
Sevele ran as well, right past the place she had run to when that group of goblins had chased her a winter past. Goblins were small creatures with warty green and gray hides. Though they bore considerable claws and teeth they often employed clubs or daggers. When she’d led them past a small grove they had went into it but never came out. She did not want the man with the ice eyes to never come out as well so she waited just beyond it in the tree line. She hoped to make sure no harm would befall him, or his friend, as Darkon came over the ridge and headed toward the well lit area ahead. Into the grove they went and she skipped quietly closer to keep the pair within sight.
The clearing was about forty feet in diameter and plenty of sun lit its breadth. Sunflowers surrounded a stone crypt like structure that sat in its center and filled the air with their flowery scent. Inscriptions covered its front and two doors met to provide entrance. The most surprising thing though, was not the scenery or structure. A large creature sat perched atop the crypt. It had the body of a large spotted lion but the head of a bearded, middle aged man. It also had wings with brown hawkish features and a tail that was at least seven feet long and covered in scales. By it’s slithering about one could easily see it was flexible and would serve well as a weapon. This was not a thing one would hope to meet in so lovely a glade. Indeed, Darkon and Galen froze in their tracks, unsure whether to draw steel or remain still. Sevele was almost as surprised as they but she had seen this creature before.
Darkon was just reaching for his blade when a voice jolted him. He was sure no one spoke as no lips had moved. The voice, he realized, was in his head.
“Hello I say, halloo!” The creature had been speaking for some time and was beginning to think these men were dumber than goblins.
Speaking aloud Darkon said, “Is it you who speaks in my mind?”
It remained silent for a moment, regarding the two.
Eyes shimmering with purple and red hues in the sunlight it spoke again in the minds of the two men. “I am glad you are astute enough to realize I am no mere beast. My name is celebrated throughout the woods of Ara’moor. You may call me Nelle’ Jvar and I welcome you both to my humble arena.”
Galen spoke then, “This surely is unlike any arena I have ever seen.”
Darkon agreed, nodding in silence.
“Alas, that my adventuring friends, is because this arena is one for the parlaying of words, not swords. Of bargains made and pacts signed, of questions answered and of quests completed.” The human face spoke with all the civility of any human being of noble lineage.
Quietly Darkon commented, “You speak in glyphs creature.”
Nelle’Jvar almost ruffled at that and replied, “Play no games with Jvar, dark one. I sensed your ability when I read you’re thoughts earlier as you entered the glade. I know you have forgotten your past and you’ve also, I sense, forgotten about your abilities.”
Darkon looked at the creature in confusion as it continued, “At that I will leave you to consider what you would be willing to give me in return for your memory.”
Purring at that last statement Jvar smiled contently and began to lap with its human tongue his furred flank.
Galen shook his head saying, “I have heard that sort of talk in one other place. My father’s court. Beware this trickster, Darkon, for he probably seeks to steal your soul! Let us kill it and be done here!”
At that Darkon looked to his friend, surprised at the callousness at which Galen spoke of killing the strange creature. He thought that regardless of its appearance it had every right to