home

search

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Final Chance

  “The Great Shepard cannot sssave every child, can he?" – Lamashtu the Daemon Snake, Devourer of the Young

  The two rogues entered the hallway. The Shade leaned against the stone wall, avoiding a nose upon one of the bricks, a residual remnant of a soul countless years prior. The Voice grumbled to himself.

  The Shade smirked and said, “How disappointing.”

  The Voice scowled at him. “Were you able to glean anything?”

  He shook his head. “Only that she wanted to get captured for a reason, which given how she distracted the daemon from going after Etheros, was already something we suspected. Their plan and the nature of their deception, however, I cannot say.”

  The Voice groaned. “Are you good for anything other than hiding in the shadows? At least Avella puts up a better fight than you.”

  “Don’t talk to me that way! I am getting stuff done. We have apprehended countless Shards through my hands while you grovel to daemons, Gods, and monsters.”

  The Voice folded his arms and said, “Perhaps, but your Maelim brigands sure left a lot to be desired.”

  The Shade waved dismissively. “I have more up my sleeve. Etheros and his friends will never reach the Island City.”

  “We should talk to the daemon Lords.”

  The Shade raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “I think they should double the guard.” His intuition was raising alarms. Something was telling him to be prepared. When he looked at Avella, he saw adventurers sneaking in. He saw their fortress destroyed and Godshards fleeing.

  The Shade laughed. “Double the guard? What for? We brought the Shards to the Underworld for a reason! This fortress is unassailable. We are deep in the Underworld, far from the portals. We have spiders on the walls, dread-wasps in the skies, and warrior daemons in the halls and courtyards. The caverns where the prisoners are is deep underground, with plenty of traps, snares, and guards. Even if a force were to get there undetected, they would have an even harder time getting out. Not even a force of ten thousand could do this. You are a fool who worries too much!”

  “My instinct tells me that our enemies might defy convention, and we should hedge our bets.”

  “We already have you, dolt!”

  “Abel might enlighten you, but your Omni-Shard still taints you. You are nearly as dogmatic as Avella.” The Shade growled. “Abel has taught us never to trust convention and to prepare for anything and everything. You should be paying better heed to his teachings! I still find time to read his writings every day. I know his thoughts. If you were as devout as me, you would know I speak the truth.” A sinister laugh made their heads turn. Velo-Obitus had joined them. The Voice gritted his teeth. “What’s so funny?”

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “We always find it hilarious when the cattle bicker,” answered Velo. Both rogues glared as one. The Voice was happy he and the Shade could agree on something, at least. The daemon grew serious. “We have to report this development to our masters, and we heard you wish for an audience. You should come with us.”

  The Shade walked away. “I will leave you to it, Voice. Have fun groveling like a worm.”

  …………………………

  The Voice of Abel and Velo-Obitus entered a gigantic chamber. Its towering gothic spires had been built on the backs of human slaves millennia prior. Nameless monsters, half-formed daemon soul stuffs, and splintered corpses littered the grounds. The Voice kept his stone face despite his mind recoiling from the horror. It was times like these that he held comfort in the fact that these wretches’ days were numbered. He must keep such thoughts suppressed lest the daemon Lords read them. Speaking of, towering shapes were lying in the far back of the room. Rising out of their slumber as they approached. They were grand and terrible. Only two of the daemon Lords were present, enough to frighten.

  The larger of the two took the form of an enormous lion, its mane a blackish flame, and it had many eyes and six legs. Its claws were much longer than an average lion’s, and its teeth held venom. Its tail ended in an armored club. He had many names, but in the mortal tongues, he was Hanbi, the Father of Warrior Daemons, Devourer of the Mighty. Wrongly thought to have been slain by Adam.

  Second was the direct master of Velo-Obitus. He grunted in anger, his eyes rabid. He had four long tusks, more like an elephant than a boar. He had eight legs and a matted mane that went down his back. He was Humbash, the Daemon Boar, Father of Hunter Daemons, and Devourer of the Wood.

  The two visitors prostrated themselves before their monstrous masters. “Baal Humbash, we have come to bear news,” said Obitus. “Nearly all remaining Godshards outside of the north and the Island City have been taken. Only stragglers remain. We plan our larger assaults in earnest. Regrettably, Avella has refused to join us.”

  Humbash growled. “So your failure to capture Etheros for a second time was for nothing.”

  Velo-Obitus trembled. “Forgive us, Baal Humbash. We were merely trying to help our esteemed allies.” The Voice glanced at Velo-Obitus. That was why he wanted him here, to be the scapegoat. Bastard. The Voice felt the daemon lord’s gaze.

  The Voice of Abel whimpered. “Your servant came to us, Baal. He was misguided and believed too heavily in Avella’s potential to be turned. I am merely a messenger trying to ensure all goes to plan. I-in fact, I am here because I wanted to express a concern on the matter if you would let me?” Humbash nodded. “About this latest catch, Avella, she wanted to be captured for a reason. I humbly request you double the guard on where we keep the prisoners.”

  The daemon lords burst into laughter. It was an ugly, raspy sound. “Your counsel is duly noted, thank you,” chuckled Humbash. “If that is all you have to say, then I must ask you to leave, for I wish to speak to my son alone.”

  The Voice rose to his feet, keeping his head lowered. He bowed and walked out of the room as fast as he could.

  Humbash turned to his son. “You have failed to capture Etheros twice now, young one.”

  “Forgive us Father-Baal!” said the two heads of Velo-Obitus in unison.

  “I recognize your deluded scheme to help our allies, but you were ordered to capture Etheros. He is the more valuable target, for there are few Godshards left with such power and none with his specialty. He must be captured at all costs! However, you did not return empty-handed, and Avella will serve her purpose too, so I am giving you one more chance.”

  “We will not let you down Father-Baal.”

  Humbash beckoned to a spot in the room. A bunch of scurrying daemons entered, dragging in the limp, prone form of another hunter-daemon. They dumped him unceremoniously onto the floor.

  Out of every crack and crevice, tiny daemon spawns, daemonic cubs, and serpentlings yet to grow rushed toward the limp form. With teeth and fangs, they began to rip, bite and tear into him. Some burrowed deep into his flesh. Others pulled fingers and toes off. One daemonic cub, a spawn of Hanbi, went straight for the eyes, yanking them out and running off with its prize.

  Velo-Obitus shuddered.

Recommended Popular Novels