Damien's Off-shoot

By Yalmact Swillirs

All actions have consequences but some outcomes are far more devastating than others. After recruiting Damien to help dissolve the Fynian crown, things did not exactly go as the Alliance had hoped.

With both Sophie and Ken's thrones now vacant, an adversary – like none other – rises from within the Alliance and stands against them. This powerful nemesis effortlessly slaughters their most ferocious and deadliest warriors.

Suddenly, disassembling the Alliance and restoring the Treaty is the least of everyone’s concerns. Each faery now has a decision to make. Stand and fight, or bow down to a new king.

Damien's Off-shoot is the third, most gruesome and ghoulish, installment of the Fynian Fable. Prepare yourself for a journey riddled with shocking deaths, astounding bravery and an unexpected ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yalmact Swillirs
• Release date: May 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311878458

Yalmact Swillirs

Being born and raised in Adelaide, South Australia, demanded Yalmact to develop an overactive imagination in order to tolerate the city's dreary atmosphere. A twisted sense of humor enabled Yalmact to survive a series of dead-end jobs and difficult life events while penning Mad Town, the first novel in the Fynian Fable series. Often escaping reality into a wide variety of written works by remarkable authors such as Stephen King, J. K Rowling and J.R.R. Tolkien, enabled Swillirs to develop their own unique voice and writing style. Had these elements not been present and Yalmact had not taken up writing, it is in all likelihood that Swillirs would have thrust their head into a cement wall to escape the monotony of their life.

Book preview

Damien’s Offshoot

The Fynian Fable

Yalmact Swillirs

Copyright Yalmact Swillirs 2015

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For my own little Chicka Choo-choo Train, who kept me going when I thought I had nothing left in me.

The A-Z of Faery Vernacular is located for your reference at the rear of the book.

Chapter 1

Aftermath

The nothingness began to lift, allowing Warrantani’s mind to free itself from the restraints of the dreamless, empty void of faery unconsciousness. A savage hunger flared up from within, a sign that he was in the presence of the last moments of a dying soul. A pattering of stinging droplets hit his exposed skin, forcing him to grimace and dragged him further into consciousness. Although he still wasn’t properly awake, he could sense something was wrong. Wherever he was, it wasn’t in the safety of his own kingdom.

He shivered and became aware that his upper body was immersed in a cold sludge. His legs were raised at an uncomfortable angle and his left wrist crippled by excruciating pain. Warrantani moaned and his eyes snapped open. The sky was full of dark clouds and black acid rain was now pouring down, instantly indicating that there was an imbalance in whichever kingdom he lay. He glanced to his left arm and found it ended in a bloodied stump. He could feel his survival mechanism kick in and watched as five golden beams shot out from his wrist to form the foundation of new bones in his replacement hand. Howls of pain ripped his attention from the damaged limb.

Through the pouring rain, Warrantani could make out other shapes that were also wounded in the mud. Some moved while many did not. He frowned, struggling to understand what had happened and why he was here. He was disoriented and his eyes flickered closed.

The last thing he remembered ... was ... was ... being in his private quarters. Yes, that was right. Friele, his sunken-eyed, bald-headed servant had been there. He’d been very apprehensive about something. What was it?

It was painful trying to retrieve that memory but he managed it. Friele had been standing beside him, dressed in the compulsory dark, floor-length robes, helping him put on a cloak that had belonged to a forefather.

‘Your Majesty, I think this is a terrible idea.’

He remembered glaring at Friele and shrugging his hands away, ‘You think removing filthy, undeserving, half-casts from the throne is a bad idea? Where’s your sense of pride and honour?’

‘I’m only concerned about what this could lead to. Showing up at their gates with an army might be seen as an attempt to break the Treaty. I hate to think what life would be like if that happened,’ explained Friele with a shudder. ‘I’m sure that if you spoke to Sophie and Ken, you’d see they’re—’

With a flick of a hand, he’d sent Friele flying into a wall. He’d walked over to his trembling servant’s frame, crouched down and stared into his quaking eyes.

‘A new time is dawning and you need to decide where your loyalties lie. Are you with your king, or his enemies?’

‘Yo-you ... you, of course,’ spluttered Friele, wiping away blood that had trickled from his mouth, ‘your enemies are mine.’

‘Good,’ Warrantani had said, standing up, ‘I’d hate to think of what would befall your beloved Inglie if I was forced to ever question your allegiance again. I pray for your sake it never does.’

Friele’s eyes widened at the threat directed toward his mate, ‘It won’t. I promise.’

The memory ended with solid blackness indicating there was a period of missing time. Warrantani’s jaw tensed. Irritated, he found yet another memory had been taken by his Stardust habit. In his mind’s eye, the remnants of another event began to replay.

He was standing outside of the gates to the entrance of a castle, the setting sun blocked out by heavy clouds. He was accompanied by the respective leaders of the Gremlins, Bargs and Bhrunës.

The Gremlin king was pacing to and fro, ‘What were we thinking? Having everything rest on a piya human and Fyn! This is what happens when we follow an Ankou’s idea!’

Warrantani had touched him on the shoulder and met his yellow eyes. ‘Lophin, there’s no need for offensive language.’

‘Don’t you talk to me in that patronising tone,’ Lophin snapped. His leathery hands pushed Warrantani away, ‘In a swift movement I could rip your insides out.’

The Barg had intervened, ‘Lophin, this is not the time.’

‘Don’t you get involved, Kloum,’ Lophin warned, turning his attention to the fiery-eyed mediator, ‘you’re already on thin ice.’

Kloum raised a threatening claw to Lophin, ‘You think I’m afraid of you?’ His lip snared, revealing his fangs, ‘You name a time and place—’

The small man with black eyes, who had remained silent up until then, stepped in the middle of the turbulent trio, ‘Right, that’s enough. For the sake of the blessed Chio, we’re right outside the blasted castle for a purpose. Need I remind you all that we’re trying to conceal our presence?’

‘You’re right, Odin. We are here for a specific reason,’ agreed Lophin, his eyes returned to Warrantani, ‘which rests completely on a chapak-sucking human showing up. Where is Damien?’

At the mention of the name, another memory resurfaced.

Warrantani was standing at the gate with Damien at his side, the black rain dulling the vibrant pink polka dot skirt and scrunchie he wore.

‘Why am I stuck waiting in this rain, pus-bag?’ Damien demanded.

‘We’re waiting for Lehnore,’ explained Warrantani.

‘I’m not the type to wait for a bitch,’ snapped Damien, moving toward the gate, ‘I’m going to go in there right now and—’

Warrantani touched him on the arm, ‘Damien, we’ve been through this, you need to wait until Sophie is outside the gates. Once there’s no royal presence or sprite in those grounds, the Chio will assume their line has died out. You’ll be able to claim the throne for yourself.’

‘You’re making up shit to try and make a fool out of me,’ snapped Damien, clenching his jaw and standing tall, ‘I’ll show you what happens to people who think they can outsmart me. Turn arou—’

Warrantani could feel himself begin to shake at Damien’s command, ‘No Damien! I promise I’m not!’

‘Alright pus-bag, then tell me what the hell is a chi-a?’

‘Chio, is the name given to all the excess energy collected by faeries. The Fyn royalty have complete control over it.’ Warrantani was thankful the rain partially concealed his face while he calmed himself. ‘When the Treaty was created, a spell of propriety was placed on Mab and Grlvog’s descendants. As long as either a blood relative or a sprite representing the family is in those grounds, the Chio will remain in complete control of Sophie and Ken.’

Damien still didn’t understand, ‘I’ve got enough energy already, pus-bag! What do I care if they’re bouncing off the walls?’

‘Damien, the Chio is pure magic.’ Warrantani licked his lips. ‘Whoever is in control of it would have absolute rule over the universe and everything that’s in it. No one would ever be able to overpower them.’

It was not easily visible but a dark glint came into Damien’s eyes. ‘I like the sound of that. No one could ever refuse me.’

Again the blackness came but instead of a complete memory, Warrantani was left with vivid flashes. The first was of Sophie opening the gate and finding them waiting. She was completely saturated and her blonde hair hung lifelessly about her head. Her face that was wrought with pain and agony swiftly became mixed with surprise upon finding them there. She was so heavily pregnant that her purple dress was under severe strain. Warrantani’s stomach churned at that image. She had been the most pathetic image of a sixteen year old he had ever seen, but without hesitation or sympathy, he’d grabbed her in his arms.

The next flash was of her sprites – Johiaz and Lehnore, or as they preferred to be called, Johnny and Leanne – arguing. The final flash was of Damien with his hand on Sophie’s stomach and a sphere of energy forcing his hand away and then ... nothing.

Warrantani’s eyes snapped open. Through his peripheral vision he could see purple orbs begin to engulf and disintegrate the dead. His left hand was now replaced and tingled when he used it to push himself up out of the mud. Once on his feet, he could fully assess the devastation Damien’s blast had done to his army. Not one soldier had escaped it unscathed, but most of his army were fatalities. To his left, Warrantani recognised Kloum’s fearsome eyes now full of tears.

Warrantani stumbled over to him, ‘Get up! All of you get up! We have to act now!’

‘Ow, my leg!’ Kloum replied.

‘He’s dead! He’s dead!’ cried Odin, who was standing a few metres away and very disoriented. He pointed to a corpse that suddenly became engulfed by a white light.

Kloum was now on his feet, his leg completely healed but the tears still present. ‘Damien’s not dead; he’s gone! It was all a trap, he tried to kill us!’

Lophin joined the conversation and snarled at Warrantani, ‘I told you we couldn’t control Damien!’

It seemed the extra magic reserves that regal figures possessed was what had spared them from death.

‘You damn fool! You’ve unleashed a monster on us all!’ cried Kloum, burying his face in his claws.

‘Shut up all of you!’ snapped Warrantani. His eyes fell on a figure, sitting on the ground near the gates, that wailed as it cradled a cadaver which was eventually taken by the white light. Warrantani’s eyes burned with disgust as they rested on that figure and because of that feeling, he knew it must be Ken.

‘We can deal with Damien later. We’ve done what we came to do,’ said Warrantani, walking towards Ken.

Now all that’s left is to kill this filthy, gaiha, chapak-eating, half-cast and then I’ll control everything.

Ken had collapsed in the mud and now wept uncontrollably. Warrantani’s left hand took hold of Ken’s hair and yanked his head up. For the briefest moment, Warrantani was overcome with pity. Seeing anyone – let alone a sixteen year old – in such misery and despair, was a painful sight. However, the moment ended and pity was soon replaced with pure hate.

‘You filthy half-cast,’ Warrantani spat, as a dagger – which had been used in yonder days by his ancestors – appeared in his right hand. ‘Don’t worry, soon you’ll be with her.’

In a swift movement, Warrantani brought the blade across Ken’s neck and threw him into the mire. He watched unmoved as Ken spluttered and clutched at his throat. Within minutes Ken was unconscious, the blood from his neck seeping into the mud. Lophin, Kloum and Odin surrounded Warrantani. They watched as Ken’s breaths became weaker until he took one long, final gasp and remained still.

The moment that happened, Warrantani glanced at his comrades, ‘It’s done. It’s all over.’

‘I can’t believe it. That was easy,’ muttered Kloum, staring at Warrantani. ‘What do we do now?’

Suddenly, outside the gates appeared three women, a small man with large ears and a dog wearing sunglasses and a red jacket. They were all suspended in midair.

‘Hello, Kikazaru, Mizaru, Iwazaru,’ greeted Warrantani with a cold smile. ‘Joekhol and Ephram.’

‘What ... what’s going on here?’ asked the woman with green hair. ‘Warrantani, what’s happening? We could sense something was wrong.’

‘Acid rain,’ remarked the brunette woman to the lady with blue hair. ‘Iwazaru, something’s wrong with Sophie and Ken.’

‘As you can see, Kikazaru, there was a struggle,’ explained Warrantani, addressing the small lady with green hair. ‘But that has now ended.’

The man with large earlobes peered through the rain at the darkened forms which were rising up from the mud. ‘Why are there so many feeom here? It’s almost as if they’re an army.’ He turned to the dog, ‘Joe, I think we need to get out of here.’

The dog chuckled, ‘Oh Big Ears, nothing bad has happened.’ He turned to Lophin, ‘Come on, tell him there’s nothing wrong.’

‘Where are Sophie and Ken?’ demanded the woman with brown hair, staring at the alliance leaders.

Aside from the smattering of rain, there was silence.

‘Yes, answer Mizaru’s question,’ demanded Kikazaru. ‘Where are they?’

Kloum stepped forward, ‘You want to know where Ken is?’ He pointed to where his body lay. ‘There’s your answer.’

‘Kenny-boy!’ screamed Joe, flying right for him.

‘Kill him!’ ordered Lophin, ‘Kill them all!’

‘Attack!’ commanded Kloum.

‘Dance in the sunlight!’ cried Odin, spinning and executing a perfect pirouette. He still was not in full control of his senses.

‘Slaughter the lot of them!’ yelled Warrantani.

What happened next took place quickly and yet seemed to occur in slow motion. The soldiers that had survived Damien’s blast obeyed their king’s orders.

‘What—?’ was all Mizaru could say as she was leapt upon by two Gremlins. She didn’t even have time to react to her assailants before she was disembowelled and decapitated.

Eight hairy Bargs took Kikazaru from behind and within a minute they had sunk their claws into her and ripped her apart. The Barg which held her severed head found himself under attack by his own comrades. He was soon cornered against the wall, snapping and snarling viciously at those attempting to take his trophy. He dropped her head into the mud as he engaged his own kind in battle; her green hair slowly became covered in muck.

Iwazaru was confronted by several Ankous. Unlike the Bargs and Gremlins, they stood in front of her with their eyes closed and chanted, ‘Ich kray une gah.’

Iwazaru was so startled that she remained frozen in place. When the Ankous opened their eyes, a piercing blue light shone out from them. Iwazaru fell to her knees, covered her head and wept hysterically, cringing as she was struck by unseen blows. The Ankous formed a circle around her, staring down at her with shining eyes while she experienced all of her darkest fears unleash themselves in her mind. Soon she pleaded for someone to take her life and immediately daggers appeared in the Ankous’ hands and were plunged into her chest. Her cries were a mixture of agony and relief and the Ankous inhaled deeply as they absorbed her dying soul.

When Joe reached Ken’s body, two small Bhrunë men intercepted him. They stamped their feet and blew orange smoke from their mouths – their usually dark eyes now violet. The Puches that lived in the meadow suddenly appeared in front of the small men and their squealing, shadowy figures lunged at Joe. Big Ears’ suspicion was a blessing, before the spirit creatures reached Joe, Big Ears dove in front of him holding Joe’s yellow hula hoop in front of them as a shield. When the Puches touched it, they burst into flames and turned to dust.

Big Ears flung a blue orb of energy at the Bhrunës and they disappeared. ‘Joe, you need to run!’

‘Big Ears, I can’t leave without you or Ken!’ cried Joe, shaking.

Big Ears turned and faced him. He shoved the hoop over his friend, ‘Joe, you need to find Sophie. I’ll follow as soon as I can.’

‘But Big Ears, I don’t wanna leave without you!’ sobbed Joe, ‘Please come with me! We need to stay together.’

‘Joe, I’ll be right behind you,’ explained Big Ears, his face stern. ‘I’ll bring Ken and the elders with me. Now go and find Sophie.’

‘But Big Ears!’ whined Joe.

Suddenly two Gremlins and a Barg leapt onto Big Ears from behind.

‘Big Ears!’ screamed Joe.

In a swift movement, Big Ears threw the Barg from his back. It shrieking as it collided with the wall. One of the Gremlins plunged its teeth into Big Ears’ abdomen while the other broke his leg.

‘Run Joe! Runnnnn!’ squealed Big Ears, ‘Get out of here! Save yourself! Find Sophie!’

Joe whipped off the hoop and flung it at his friend. It landed around his neck. The instant it touched him, the mouth and arms of Big Ears’ tormentors became immersed in flames and they dropped to the ground. The rain extinguished the inferno, revealing that one Gremlin had lost its jaw and the other its arms.

Big Ears weakly looked at Joe then his eyes widened, ‘Joe, look out!’

Big Ears lurched forward, pushed Joe out the way and placing the hoop around Joe’s neck. An Ankou was behind Joe, a knife mere centimetres from entering Joe’s shoulder. Big Ears’ quick thinking had spared his friend but he had absorbed the deadly move instead.

Big Ears fell to the ground, quivering in pain. The Ankou stood over him, already inhaling the dying embers of his soul. Tears streamed down Joe’s face, he knew that once a faery’s soul had begun to leave the body, the process was irreversible. His best friend was dying.

Big Ears’ eyes locked onto Joe. His face already ghastly, he conjured up a sickly liminiade in one hand, ‘Joe, find Sophie. Make this right.’

With the last of his strength, he threw the orb over Joe’s shoulder, sending an advancing Bhrunë and Barg to the edge of the universe. Big Ears’ head lolled back into the mud, he smiled at his friend one last time and with his last breath said, ‘Joe ... you’re ... you’re ... so ... cool.’

‘No!’ wailed Joe. The Ankou stepped away from Big Ears’ lifeless corpse and advanced toward Joe. He watched as a white light appeared that would soon take his friend’s body.

‘What’s going on here?’ asked Pludonious. The dark-haired librarian and the remaining court servants had now exited the grounds in response to the commotion.

‘No! Don’t come out!’ cried Joe.

It was too late; the last of the Fynian royal court had crossed the threshold of the palace grounds. A pulse of energy flashed around its perimeter, illuminating the blackened sky and thereby sealing the property from all access until the crown’s true heir would return.

The new Fyn arrivals garnered the attention of the remaining army and within a matter of seconds they had been slaughtered.

‘Get the last Fyn!’ snarled an unseen voice, referring to Joe. ‘Get the advisor!’

Finally, Joe snapped from his trance, clutched his hoop and he vanished from sight.

Warrantani, Lophin, Kloum and Odin had been distracted from this occurrence as they were attempting to break up a fight that had erupted amongst some soldiers over Kikazaru’s head.

‘You piya sucking imps! The head will soon be gone! You’re fighting for nothing!’ yelled Warrantani.

‘Your Majesty?’ asked a female Bhrunë soldier.

‘What is it?’ snapped Warrantani, facing her.

‘A Fyn’s managed to escape.’

Warrantani’s eyes narrowed, ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Go and follow it, you insipid imp!’

‘Your Majesty, we can’t trace him,’ she answered.

‘What do you mean you can’t follow him?’

‘The Fyn has some form of cloaking device. We can’t trace his magic or find his location.’

Warrantani’s hand shot forward and he gripped the Bhrunë’s throat, ‘That is not an option. Go and find it, and bathe in its blood,’ he growled, throwing the creature to the ground. The soldier backed away and disappeared.

Warrantani’s eyes darted around the meadow, the pouring rain slightly clouded his vision. Four blinding lights appeared and covered the elders and Big Ears’ bodies.

‘All of you listen up! You are not to return until you have that last remaining filthy Fyn! Do you understand me?’ Warrantani roared to what remained of his army.

Lophin, Kloum and Odin gave their troops the same order. Soon it was only the kings that remained outside the gates.

‘What now?’ asked Lophin, ‘What if they can’t find him? The entire court must be dead for us to enter the grounds.’

‘Pfft, it’s just an advisor. I doubt his existence would influence our ability to seize the crown,’ said Kloum, striding toward the open gates. The minute he touched the threshold, he was catapulted fifty metres backwards into the soppy mirth and the gates slammed closed.

‘I never would have thought that an advisor would be able to stop us from entering,’ muttered Lophin, watching Kloum shake the excess mud from his pelt. ‘How much longer until we can leave, I’m freezing.’

‘Why is his body still there?’ asked Odin, pointing to Ken’s unmoving body.

‘His corpse should have disappeared by now. All the others have,’ said Lophin.

‘I’m sure it’s because he’s human. Their carcasses don’t vanish,’ reminded Warrantani, walking toward it with Lophin and Odin.

When they reached Ken’s body, their mouths dropped open. Ken’s neck wound had almost completely healed and although still unconscious, he was breathing.

‘How is that possible?’ stammered Odin, staring at Warrantani, ‘You slit his throat! I saw you do it!’

‘Obviously he’s out of practise when it comes to killing,’ explained Lophin, ‘I’ll show you how.’

With that he reached down, clasped Ken’s skull and twisted it in a circle. The sound of breaking bones was audible as Ken’s head was severed from the spinal