SylverMoon Chronicles: SylverMoon Chronicles, #4

By Confederacy of the Quill

A new generation of superheroes discovers they still have a lot to learn… unexpected horrors lead a young woman to her true direction… cutting edge technology gives a prince the ability to defend one of humanity’s last cities … music brings a young girl to a doorway to the unknown… hunters of the undead become the hunted… in the realm of demons one hero dares to challenge the throne…

An anthology of short stories by Quicksylver authors in the genres of Fantasy, Science Fiction, Horror, Futuristic, Archaic & everything in between, SylverMoon Chronicles is a fascinating romp through a myriad of worlds all guaranteed to fire the imagination!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Quicksylver Publications
• Release date: Feb 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386316848

Book preview

Table of Contents

Continuations

Cometh the WarloK King

The Scharr’s Apprentices

For the Love of Nina

The Sins of the Velle Fall to the Son

The Call

Preacher & The Pale Devil: Book III

The Bride of Prometheus

The Bladed Shaft IV

The Second Poterian

New Material

When Hunters are Hunted

One Night

Prelude to a Kill

Guardians of New Avalon

Ring Around the Moon

The Noble Damned

Reflections

In Her Eyes

Ayveria’s Song

Mirror-Walking

Revilo02

Another World

Graphic Art

The Raven & The Poet

About the Authors

Foreword

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By the time you reach the fourth time of something, that’s a habit, right?

Well, we certainly hope so! Our group of writers truly enjoys putting together this collection of stories for you – it’s a great habit to have.

The Confederacy of the Quill welcomes you to the fourth installment of the SylverMoon Chronicles, but never fear – as you reach the end of these adventures, rest easy knowing that we are already busy creating the worlds for the fifth. Enjoy!

Continuations

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Eight stories... Eight voices sounding from inside the mists of time. Our writers have heard the call from the characters and worlds already beloved by the readers, and have stepped up to the challenge.

So, be it the one you fear from pages gone by, or a tale that has found a place in your heart, look upon these familiar shadows and come to know a new light of the SylverMoon!

Cometh the WarloK King

Continuation of Hero of Junn-Gladeer (Vol. I),

The Bane of The WarloKs (Vol. II), &

In the Wake of Shadows (Vol. III)

(Fantasy Serial)

by Reiter

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There was no sound to be heard from the movement. Unbelievable. Only the slightest tremble, given at the moment when the motion began could be felt... then there was the sound, the soft grind of stone against sand and stone. He closed his eyes at the sensation of it and smiled at the wonder of the moment.

How does one expect to get any sleep in this city? Efam asked as he opened his eyes and leaned on the railing of the crystal balcony. He thought the sight of it would never tire his eyes; watching an entire city rotate. Each Star-Rise triggered the slight rotation of twelve degrees, which meant that one was brought back to the same place every MooN. What a sight to see!

I was thinking the very same thing, Vylsudia purred, walking up behind the young Terran, wrapping her arms, and the top sheet of his bed, around his body. What a sight indeed. I did not know Terran men could be so beautiful.

Efam chuckled as he patted and massaged the young maiden’s hand. If you ever want to understand the Terran man, recognize they specialize in one thing over all: the ability to surprise you!

You’ve done at least that, milord, she whispered, biting softly at the back of his neck. "You are a very giving lover. It takes a strong-hearted man to be so giving.

But how is it that you have an estate here at Opal Gate, yet you wonder at how the city rotates at the beginning of every DoaH? the young female NesBan asked. ... and when did you put on your pants?!

After a short burst of laughter, Efam said, "The estate is the property of my Master, and it was a gift given to him by one of his teachers a few YahrtoN back. You could say he’s been distracted as of late.

As for my pants... well... I did not want to receive your friends completely naked. Efam snapped his head back into the woman’s face. She grunted from the unexpected impact, and Efam took hold of the sheet as he landed an elbow to her sternum. Her wail of pain was slightly louder after the second blow, and Efam spun around landing a hook to the side of her face. He threw up the sheet as three figures landed on the floor between the balcony and the bed. Efam smiled as the sheet expanded high and wide. Three darts and one small crossbow bolt ripped through the linen, and the sheet fell to the ground revealing that the young man was gone.

Vylsudia! cried the man with the hand crossbow as he ran toward his downed colleague. She was conscious, but heavily stunned, and she moaned at the sound of her name.

At least she gave me her real name, Efam said, dropping down on the kneeling man. His folded knee collided with the man’s shoulder at the base of the neck; a perfect strike! The man grunted as he fell on top of the woman along with Efam. A sharp cross cracked against the woman’s chin, and Efam rolled off the couple avoiding another flurry of poisoned darts. Pushing off the tiles with his hands, Efam flipped twice before landing on the railing of the balcony. You two might want to surrender before things get bloody!

To hell with you! spat one of the men as he drew a pair of short swords.

Again?! Efam exclaimed as he spun around, catching a dart and returning it to the man who had thrown it. The assassin gasped at the sight of the maneuver and the sensation of the dart lodging into his skin at the neck. We just got back from there!

The last assassin watched as his partner started losing the ability to breathe, the first reaction to poison. Soon the poor fool would be blind and in incredible pain; death would be his only release.

That’s two unconscious and one dead, Efam noted. You can see that I am a man who appreciates balance. You know what the likely outcome of you attacking me with those things is, right? The man did not answer with his mouth. He charged forward and Efam smiled, gauging the man’s speed, agility, and likely skill with the blade. He squatted low and leaned forward like he was about to dive at the man. He allowed his feet to slide off the edge just as he threw his bodyweight forward. His toes were now his anchors, but his opponent had bought too heavily into the feint and sought to stop too quickly. His feet slid forward and eventually out from under the assassin as Efam landed on his hands. Another push off and Efam flipped over the sliding assassin who slid into the railing.

We call that a reversal of position, Efam said, leaning against the doorframe. He could hear the doors to his bedchamber opening. Looking to the mirror he had repositioned in the far corner, Efam could see a very groggy Jharsen walking into the room. Oh! Good Star-Rise to you, Master.

Is everything alright here? Jharsen inquired. I thought I heard a commotion.

Four assassins, Efam stated clearly as he looked back at the assassin who was now standing. His eyes squinted as he folded his arms. Two unconscious out here on the balcony; one dead in there with you... and this last one who has, believe it or not, taken to drawing his swords on me.

"He’s drawn blade on you?" Jharsen pressed, noticing that Efam’s weapons were on the Gwearlyn-crafted sword-rack the SorceroR had purchased when they arrived in Oral Keep.

He has indeed. A pair, in point of fact.

Two downed but one dead?

Aye, Master.

And he won’t yield, will he?

It does not appear that he has the inclination, Efam replied.

Poor fool, Jharsen concluded. Save as much of the body as you can. You know, for my experiments.

Damn, I forgot about that, Master, Efam grimaced. That one in there is ruined with poison, I’m afraid. I’ll just break the neck of this one then.

That is acceptable, Jharsen said softly as he turned back for the double doors.

Now hold on one bloody Krone-Paht! the man yelled. What sort of experiments?!

Like you’re going to care once you’re dead! Efam sharply returned.

I yield! the assassin proclaimed, tossing down his swords. This job was light in the coin anyway!

Then either your employer is as much a fools as you, Jharsen whispered, dropping façade of being sleepy. ... or you weren’t expected to succeed! The man leaned forward into a hard sprint, bolting out of the room. Four poorly skilled assassins against Efam could not have been a serious objective point, but it would serve as an ideal distraction. Jharsen sprinted down the long corridor to the master bedchambers. His eyes flared when he saw flashing lights of green and blue colors.

My Light! he whispered before calling out the name of his wife. Tharra!

Shhh! Tharra hushed him as she came flying out of the room. I just put him down to sleep! Floating beside her flying form was Jharsen’s infant son, JaRath. He had been named after Jharsen’s mother, Jaratha, but the hero of Junn-Gladeer had intertwined an Ashari spelling to the name.

In close pursuit of the flying Ashari WiZarD was another assassin, only this one looked to be more of a threat than the ones with which Efam had been engaged. He was of the Jokathi Tribe of the Ashari Blood. Often called the Black Ashari, this man wore a living shroud composed from the form of MannA given to that particular tribe: Shadow MajiKs. He could not make a sound above a whisper even if he had wanted to, and Tharra was happy to join in the effort of keeping things quiet. With a mere gesture of her hand, JaRath was sent flying to Jharsen who caught the child just as throwing daggers sailed across the wide corridor barely missing the twisting form of the gifted Sal-Ban woman.

Jharsen watched as his wife threw her hand out in a wide arc. A shudder of invisible force moved down the corridor, washing over Jharsen as he shielded his son with his own body. When the mysteriously churned up wind subsided, Jharsen looked around to see that he and his son were quite alone in the hallway. Jharsen glanced down into the glimmering green eyes of his son who smiled up at his father as his body gave off a soft glow of light. Jharsen could feel the MannA flowing through his child, who was suddenly much lighter in his hands.

Boy, are you trying to fly?! Jharsen asked. "You get that from your mother! She’s off somewhere in one of her pocket dimensions having her way with a Jokathi assassin... and that sounded much different aloud than it did in my head.

Tunshior! Jharsen called out. I have need of you, my friend. The wall panel just outside the bedroom doors opened and the automaton Jharsen had made nearly a Tide ago walked out, casting its sapphire eyes on its creator. It possessed the body of a muscle-bound deity and the head of a beaked-mouth dragon. Please watch over my son.

It will be my pleasure, Master, Tunshior replied in his airy but incredibly low voice. Though he was made of several metals and coated in silver, Tunshior possessed a very soft touch and he gently cradled the child in one of his massive arms.

There are strange matters about this DoaH, Jharsen declared. ... and with so many possessions under one roof, it is difficult to determine what the real target might be. I will require a flame, my friend. Tunshior turned its head and flames shot from slots on either side of its beak. Jharsen skipped a step before diving into the flame. He landed on the far side dressed in his traveling garb and cloak; his cane was in his left hand, and his whip on his right hip. Keeping his speed, Jharsen took one step before jumping over the bannister. His cloak opened up and allowed Jharsen to glide down to the lower floors. Reaching the bottom floor, he was mere steps away from the doors that would lead to the basement, but only took one before he felt a familiar sensation.

Did you enjoy yourself, my Light? he asked, hearing a loud thud. Jharsen turned to see his wife wearing her armour and holding her silver bi-blade as she put one boot down on the chest of a prone Jokathi assassin who definitely appeared to be the worse for wear.

They are getting more and more resourceful, Tharra replied. This one was prepared to absorb my light and create living shadows.

That does sound rather clever, Jharsen admitted. And your resolve?

You could say I was motivated to test the limits of his method of transformation, Tharra reflected. Once there was a full score of them I became angry.

After he made twenty?! Jharsen asked just before nodding to the affirmative. Yes, I can see where that would be most disconcerting. I was on my way to check the status of our most prized possession. Do you care to accompany me? Or would you rather adjourn upstairs and collect our son from Tunshior?

It is your Champion that has difficulty in accepting your automaton, dearest, not I, Tharra smiled her response. I love you and your MajiK. I almost trust Tunshior more than you or I with JaRath. It was a stroke of genius that you aligned his life-force with our son’s.

I doubt that our boy will meet an Efam on his trails, Jharsen said as he opened the door. Growing up with the automaton might help him overcome the deficit. Jharsen started into the stairway but stepped back, sweeping his arm across his wife to pull her back with him. A large spiked metal ball passed centimeters in front of his face, crashing into the doorframe. The wood of the frame was pulverized as well as nearly a meter of the stone.

Light of Lynneas! Tharra exclaimed, recovering from the sudden call to movement. What in all the realms was that?!

I believe it was the weapon of an X’Au, Jharsen estimated, his voice unchanged by the events happening all about him. Steel Tribe would be my guess.

And he isn’t alone, Tharra added as a jet of gray-black smoke shot out of the stairway and over their heads. It collected in the corridor and quickly shifted to a four-meter tall warrior wearing heavy, but finely crafted, steel armour. Last I checked, the giant races could not transform into smoke... not unassisted.

It was not brought up at the last convention, I can tell you that, Jharsen ribbed. Which do you want?

Allow me to adjourn downstairs, my love, Tharra smiled as she withdrew from the gigantic creature. Join me as soon as you can.

He will go with you now, Efam cried out as he landed on the X’Au’s shoulder. He was dressed and wore his weapons, flashing a very devilish grin. I shall see to our guest. Jharsen smiled up at his friend and Champion, saluting as he and his wife made their exit. The gauntlet of the X’Au closed down on nothing as Efam jumped to the other side of the creature’s head. Efam drew one of his daggers as he flipped.

"I did not know what my Master had in mind when he created Tunshior, Efam thought as he landed, stabbing the ear of the giant. How foolish it was of me to think I was being replaced!" The giant roared in anger and spun around, his hand just passing over Efam’s head as the young swordsman squatted low. His leap carried him up and over the giant who was drawn off balance as it swung and missed again. It had reached too far, committed too much to the effort, and Efam made the creature try to go in several directions all at the same time. The Steel X’Au fell to its back, losing its loose-fitting helm, but it quickly sat up, swinging the chain of its weapon. Efam hopped to his left and the chain wrapped around a column instead of Efam, who ducked so that the chain end would pass over his head and wrap around more than once. The Champion put his foot to the chain and prevented it from being pulled away from the column. The giant pulled, but the make of the column did not give to its strength.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a short bow and arrow right now! Efam smiled, taking a pose as if he actually held one. Though I am only a marginal bowman, to be sure. He slowly set the imaginary arrow and drew back the invisible bowstring. I wouldn’t need to be that good for this shot.

But you do not have a bow, little Terran, the WarrioR said as he moved to get to his feet. Efam adjusted his aim, keeping his sights on the creature’s face as it took hold of the chain just under the spiked ball. All you have there is air, and you won’t have even that for much longer!

The fingers on Efam’s pulled-back hand opened, and the giant’s head snapped back as blood burst from the newly-made hole in his skull. The shock of being struck stirred with the sudden loss of sensation and thought, and eventually life.

Didn’t it strike you as a slight possibility that a SorceroR’s Champion just might be able to call for a weapon and have it appear?! Efam asked as the short bow became visible. Granted, the flavor of invisibility was something I added, but still! What brand of idiot attacks the estate of a SpellCasteR without bringing one?! Hearing the question aloud was enough to give Efam pause.

"What brand indeed! he thought. If I were tasked to attack Jharsen, just how many layers of a distraction would I engage?" Efam quickly turned and broke into his fastest gait for the stairs. He needed to get back to his master’s bedchambers.

"His form improves with every flight, Tharra thought as she banked around a large stone column, following her mate as they raced toward the vault of the estate. He is barely using the cloak at all now. My mate may still complain about what my father has done, but he has clearly embraced his newfound Ashari bloodright!

Should there be a light inside the vault at this time of the DoaH? she asked, seeing a soft glow escape from under the thick, wooden double doors at the end of the corridor down which they were now flying.

Not in the least, Jharsen said softly as he arched his back, forcing his shoulders up. As his chest came up, he readied his feet to receive the floor. A simple wave of his hands caused the doors to open quickly. And it does not appear to be the help. Jogging to a stop, Jharsen’s eyes were soon fixed on a lone, large, powerfully-built figure that stood with his back to the double doors, leaning with both hands on the only table in the room. It stood in the very center of the floor and was nearly as old as the estate itself.

Moving very slowly, the mysterious man reached toward the center of the table and took hold of a vine, lifting it over his shoulder. Berries?!

ZuloiaN Berries, Jharsen clarified. My Champion developed a very strong taste for them during our travels in the tropics. The stranger snorted before throwing the berries to the floor.

Quite the rude man, Tharra whispered.

That is no man, my Light, Jharsen quickly replied.

Ah, you are very sharp of eye, Caster, the figure replied. The young SorceroR was fairly certain that his mate could see through the disguise. He had spoken as he had in order to move the conversation along to the point he sought. It was necessary for this creature to know that it was not fooling him with its presentation. I had been told as much.

That was my assumption as well, Jharsen said, walking across Tharra to his left. The Sal-Ban WiZarD took the lead of her mate and started into the room, stepping to her right. Who sent you?

One who can command me, the figure stated, ... which means one who can command your death!

A command that has been given more than once, Jharsen noted as he put the end of his cane to the floor.

Not to me, SorceroR, the figure snapped as it quickly spun around to lock eyes on Jharsen. You have never had to contend with the likes of me!

Yes, I can see you’ve put a great deal of thought to your argument, Jharsen returned. Mayhap I should also be wary of the beggars in the cities I have yet to visit!

You think me a beggar?! the creature shouted, lifting its right hand as electricity crackled between the fingertips. As the hand started to make a forward motion toward Jharsen, a miniature bolt of MannA burst against the side of the creature’s face and the summoned charge dispersed. The creature was not injured, but it screamed at the outrage of being made to miss.

Jharsen looked confused as his eyes shifted to Tharra. He shrugged his shoulders, posing a silent inquiry. What? she asked, returning the shrugging motion. Aren’t you a little tired of all our fights being decided so quickly?!

A mistake you will not make again! the creature growled as cracks started to show in its skin. Its eyes flared, turning yellow, and Tharra was sent flying back by an invisible force; her body arched over the floor toward the stacked crates along the wall. It was a simple feat for her cloak to wrap around her body in mid-flight, and Tharra faded from sight before making impact with the crates.

"Didn’t anyone teach that woman not to play with her food?! Jharsen thought as he dropped to one knee while reaching into his shoulder bag. It had not taken him long to recognize telekinesis was being used, and the tremble of one of the crates was all the warning he needed. Despite the speed with which the crate flew from the stacking and crossed the room, it was far too high to strike the ducking Caster. It shattered against the wall behind him and the incantation that had been placed on the crate was also destroyed. The berries were now pulverized and had splattered all over the wall. And Efam is going to be most upset!

Take that, you vile villain! Jharsen cried, throwing the small pouch he had pulled from his shoulder bag. It struck the creature in the face and a small, light cloud of red dust burst from the pouch. The creature was instantly blinded and could not keep from sneezing.

Did I hear you say ‘vile villain’? Tharra asked as she came up through the floor.

Now is not the time to offer criticism, Jharsen remarked.

Oh, but it is! the creature insisted. You seek to blind a Daemonite with spices and powdered glass?! A Daemonite whose power and skill has garnered power in the ranks of MoGo?! I have been given a name, SorceroR! I am called Kyrstrun! The right hand of the creature lowered to its hip and then came away from its body. The fingers flexed out and slowly curled around the neck of a short-poled blade. Looking something like a Bi-Blade with only one sword, the pole was actually polished and reinforced bone. Spinning the weapon about caused the steel to sing against the air in a chorus of mixed soft shrieks. I was told to expect so much more.

And we so hate to disappoint our uninvited guests, Jharsen hissed as his grip on his cane tightened.

Separate! Tharra commanded, putting her foot on her husband’s hip. She pushed hard and forced the couple to roll away from each other. They could both hear the song of the blade as the large figure streaked by in a blur between them.

Poor choice, Tharra said as she came out of her roll and hopped up. Her back was still to her opponent, but her slight jump was enough to lift her body over its swing. She landed and lifted her Bi-Blade over her head, preventing the Daemonite’s downward swing from reaching the top of her skull. Another jump moved her forward and the thrust meant for her back fell short of the mark. Tharra spun around and deflected a second thrust, smiling as her steel sparked against the weapon of the demon-spawn. She forced her body to continue her spin, dropping to her knee as she came around again; the Daemonite was quick to leave the ground. Her steel just missed his legs and the floor cracked when his weapon passed through her intangible form as the blade quickly sank through the floor.

Damn cloak! the Daemonite muttered.

As I was the one to craft that cloak for her, I’ll take your disgust as a compliment, Jharsen said, and the room was filled with sound of an abundance of energy crackling behind the Daemonite. She was right. You made a poor choice. She’s the better blade... I’m the stronger caster!

I am a Daemonite, corpse! Kyrstrun said as he quickly turned and charged toward the SorceroR. I am guarded against your MajiKs! On the third stride toward its opponent, the Daemonite left the ground and KaA swirled around his form a second time, propelling him forward. A bright flash of energized Star Dust blinded the Daemonite who screamed in pain before he was stopped cold by the wall of the vault.

Oh well done! Tharra commented as her hand found her husband’s shoulder.

Why thank y- Your dome shield, now!

Neasstar-taykarrah! Tharra cried out, thrusting one end of her weapon into the floor. The steel easily pierced the stone and delivered a flash of green light that formed a dome over the couple as electricity rained down on them from two other Daemonites! The shield held, but Tharra grunted and shuddered from the force of the attack.

Can you hold out? Jharsen asked, reaching into his shoulder bag.

"Not...unh... for... long!"

A moment is all we ever require, my love, Jharsen said as his hand came out of his shoulder bag. He slapped a stone against the floor and the dome was instantly filled with smoke.

That is Portal Smoke! one of the Daemonites declared as he dropped down from the ceiling of the chamber. Smaller than the powerful Commander, the Flank, known only by his position, carried a steel bow on his back along with a pair of hand axes tucked into his belt. His long but thin white hair fell around his shoulders the moment he landed on the floor. It allows him to teleport, but only in short ranges.

This chamber is guarded against MajiKs, Gilavi, the female Daemonite, pointed out as she joined her cohort on the floor. Their commander pulled himself from the wall, screaming in rage and looking for something to kill. The impact with the wall had removed the remains of his disguise, and his purplish-gray skin now shone through. His eyes were a sea foam green and without pupils, bright with power.

The doors are still open, the slender Daemonite said. They must be in the corridor!

The SorceroR is mine! Kyrstrun declared as he ran out of the doors that closed with incredible speed behind him.

As you wish, Jharsen replied as Tharra came through the doors, swinging her Bi-Blade. The tip of the blade left a trail of light, and the arc flew out toward Flank and Gilavi, striking them in the chest and lifting them from the floor. Flank landed on the table, but the sturdy wood held and he rolled off the back edge. Gilavi carried past the table, landing hard on the stone floor.

You two might want to reconsider your involvement in this, Tharra added, fanfaring her weapon as she stepped back through the doors.

Kyrstrun heard the commotion behind him, but he had already gained sight of his target. The female Ashari would have to wait her turn to die! Jharsen smiled when the Daemonite slowed to a jog as he drew closer.

Well, at least you can be trained, the SorceroR said as he walked toward the Daemonite.

Die with your delusions, SorceroR! the Daemonite Commander barked as he lifted his weapon. For now you have allowed me to draw close. You cannot hope to match m-

The glint of near-perfect steel reflecting light was all Tharra needed to see as Jharsen took a step back from the large Daemonite, his sword locking back into place inside the cane-scabbard. She breathed a sigh of relief as she swung her Bi-Blade twice at the doors of the vault in a glorious spin fueled by anger and focused incantations that made her faster and her blade able to penetrate the wood without marking it. Demon flesh, on the other hand, was very susceptible to the ethereal blades, and she could feel her blades open the chests of both Daemonites who could not detect her standing so close to the doors.

Were you about to say something about my speed, Daemonite? Jharsen said softly as his right hand came away from the cane. He would forgive the creature’s inability to speak with the cut he had placed across the neck. "Do not fret, it seems you are mortal enough to underestimate me, as have many others. Die knowing that much.

And through the shock and awe in your eyes, I can at least see the truth of why you are here, Jharsen concluded as he glared at the Daemonite that finally fell to his knees. You have failed on many levels, Commander, Jharsen said as he turned to make his way upstairs. If it is any consolation, there was hardly any chance of your success. Your master saw to that before you were dispatched.

"Four assassins, a giant, and, from the feel of things, a couple mounds of spittle from MoGo! Efam thought as he made his way up the last flight of stairs. But I do not feel my Master in despair, so he is not pressed. Both he and his wife are safe. Efam lifted his hand to smack the flat of a blade, causing a thrust of the blade to miss his chest. Make that five assassins!" Efam gave ground as a slender night-clad figure leapt from the shadows, wielding a pair of wakizashi.

Efam’s opponent pressed in a flurry of swings and kicks, but the AcrobaT was quick enough to be elsewhere by the time the attacks had been sent. A spinning flip over his opponent was the last defensive maneuver he would employ. Efam landed, hurling a pair of throwing stars; one at the chest and the other at the floor between the assailants feet. A sword smacked against the first weapon, causing it to explode in a blinding light; the second weapon struck against the floor, adding to the light. Efam back-rolled away from the swordsman, feeling the effects of the second throwing star beginning to take hold. He came up out of his movement to see the swordsman encased in ice.

He who has the best toys wins! Efam muttered as he ran down the corridor, running along the wall for three strides to get around the icy statue in the middle of the floor. Reaching the doors of the master bedchambers, Efam heard and felt a thunderous boom coming from overhead. It was followed by a rumbling that traveled nearly the entire length of the roof.

That could have been a tumbling automaton, Efam muttered before breaking into a run.

Efam did not pay any attention to the bodies that had been strewn throughout the room. There was no need to count them. Tunshior might have been less than a YahrtoN old, but he was already incredibly efficient, especially in matters of combat. The amount of blood was indicative of only one thing: there had to be at least a dozen dead bodies in the room.

Through the terrace doors Efam ran, jumping for the railing of the balcony, and ricocheting from there to the roof of the estate house. Three figures turned to look at Efam; two dressed like the frozen assassin, and one dressed in dark leathers and a burgundy high-collared cape. At the far end of the roof, wedged into the mortar and brick, was Tunshior using only one arm, struggling to stand as his other arm cradled a familiar blanket-wrapped bundle. Most of the silver skin had been scraped, cut, and blasted off his form, and there were several large charred areas over the torso and face. The slots through which Tunshior released its flames had been welded shut.

You must be Efam, the caped man sneered as he leveled his hand at the battered automaton. Agile... but alas, too little, too late!

This fight is not yet yours, WarloK! Efam shouted as he looked at the two swordsmen who were creeping toward him, slowly drawing their wakizashi swords. The dual sword fighting method appeared to be a requiem in their ranks.

Kill him! the WarloK commanded, firing a bolt of black light at the automaton that was struck, forcing him to fall through the roof from the power of the attack. The automaton is all but done, and the child will soon be mine!

Efam drew his sword and lunged forward. He knew his opponents would move to prevent him advancing on their master, and he counted on them trying to match his speed. What he had not counted on was the two of them both being faster than him! Apparently the one he had faced earlier had been of lesser rank, and Efam was suddenly on the defensive, moving his head back to keep his face clear of the arc of one blade. He used his own blade to deflect a thrust for his stomach. His feet left the roof as he parried another thrust. One of the assassins passed under him, performing a practiced attack form that was nearly perfect, save for the fact that his target was flying overhead.

Light of my Master! Efam exclaimed as he twisted his body around to dodge three fly-darts and deflect another four before his feet reached a hard surface.

Your master’s light has been extinguished, one of the assassins whispered, lunging toward Efam. Your light will soon join his! Efam’s spinning block allowed him to mount a quick counter-attack, but it was blocked by the second swordsman who had come out of nowhere. The second blade of the closer opponent was free and clear, and it was sent forward for Efam’s face. The young AcrobaT grunted as his muscles were strained. He performed a back-flip without jumping up, reversing his grip on his blades as he tumbled, and he landed on one foot and one knee. He leapt forward, passing between the two men, scoring their calves as he flew to the ground just behind them. With his forearms crossed, Efam landed on his fists and stopped his forward momentum, grinding his knuckles against the roof as he forced his body to spin. His feet swung out wide and scored the eye of one attacker, and the neck of the other. Efam flipped to his feet, his back to his opponents, and threw his arms back in the beginning of a back-flip. The move quickly became inverted uppercut swings of his blades as he sliced one man’s neck and the other’s shoulder. Efam tumbled, hearing the shoulder-scored combatant cry out in pain. It was a yell that quickly became a cry of mounted effort. The young man landed once more in a one-foot, one-knee position, his left arm raised just in time to block the sword being swung down for his face. His second blade raked across the thighs and crotch of his opponent. A quick adjustment of the swords and Efam stood up, lunging forward and driving both blades into the chest of the assassin.

That is how you extinguish a light! Efam hissed, glaring into the assassin’s eyes; the man could not die fast enough to avoid the pain of twisted blades wrenched from his body. Another explosion cut short Efam’s victory and reminded him of the third opponent he had when he came to the roof. Tunshior! Running to the hole at the edge of the roof, Efam could see a burst of black light crashing through the wall of the floor below. It quickly turned east toward the rising DoaH Star and increased in its speed. Looking down through the large hole, Efam could see that the second arm of the automaton had been removed, but it was still clamoring to get to its feet.

No, not JaRath, Efam whispered as his blades fell from his hands. No! The young man fell to his knees as Jharsen and Tharra landed on the roof. They quickly approached and while Tharra looked at the kneeling man, Jharsen looked down through the hole and gazed upon his automaton. His eyes blinked as he looked at the torso and then the severed arms. He came away from the hole and glared at Efam.

Efam, where is my son? Jharsen asked in a powerful voice. Efam stammered, not saying anything that could be understood. Efam?! Where is he?! WHERE IS MY SON?!!

Come to me, my children, the voice of the WarloK echoed and three additional bursts of black light followed behind the first, headed toward the DoaH Star.

The Daemonites, Tharra declared. He recalls the Daemonites. We have to follow them! Tharra was nearly off the roof when Jharsen took hold of her wrist.

Follow them into what, my Light? he said softly, trying his best to contain himself. It would be exactly what they want.

You followed me into MoGo, Tharra screamed, pulling against her husband’s hold. An iron grip had come along with his skill of the blade. ... let me follow my son now!

I cannot, Jharsen replied, closing his eyes. We cannot assume they would allow such a response a second time.

Let me go! Tharra commanded, smacking Jharsen across the face. His hand did not lose any of its strength and Tharra’s feet finally touched down on the roof as she burst into tears and dropped her weapon to grab and pry open Jharsen’s fingers. Let me go to my child!

I cannot, Jharsen mumbled, pulling his wife into his arms. She would not be consoled and struggled against his embrace.

Do you still think my queens are inept, SorceroR? the WarloK’s voice echoed over the estate before it fell into laughter. It soon followed behind the black streaks, taking a few moments before it could no longer be heard. Tharra cried into Jharsen’s chest as Efam looked at the head of his master’s cane. The tell-tale black glow faded and he picked up his swords, returning them to their scabbards.

He’s gone, Master, Efam reported as he looked around. And aside from one frozen assassin, everyone else that was not demonic is dead.

Thank goodness that’s over, Tharra said, lifting her face from Jharsen’s body and quickly wiping her face of her forced tears. My apologies for the shirt.

And what of my face?! he snapped, rubbing where she had struck him.

The cost of doing the business of a thespian, my husband, she smiled as she walked around Jharsen. I will fetch Tunshior.

And don’t forget his arms, Jharsen directed as he reached into his bag. He touched a pinch of the green garlic to his cheek and the heat of the wound was quickly cooled.

I didn’t know she was so heavy-handed, Efam