The Demonslayer Chronicles I: A Shadow on the Throne

By Joseph J. Blaikie

A Shadow on the Throne is
the first book of The Demonslayer Chronicles series.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> As his kingdom faces utter devastation by the
dragon Mordraken, King Elluthian learns of a dual-edged prophecy of salvation
and treachery. Two great heroes will
come to the aid of the king of Telluvia.
One man is pure of heart and will do all that he can to protect the
king. The other is a demon disguised as
a man who will do great deeds to gain the confidence of the king while all the
while he plots to steal the power of the throne.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> The king is faced with the dilemma of
deciding which man to trust. Matters
grow complicated as the two suspects wage a war of words against each other.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Each man attempts to convince the king that
the other cannot be trusted. The crisis
escalates as acts of treachery begin to unfold.
Blood is shed and sides are drawn.
And yet so cleverly crafted is the true villains plan that it is
impossible to determine the traitors identity.
It is not until war rages at the very gates of the kings castle that
the demon is unmasked.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 9, 2004
• ISBN: 9781414082479

Joseph J. Blaikie

Joseph J. Blaikie graduated from Indiana State University and currently resides in Greencastle, Indiana.  His other works include the apocalyptic thriller The Dragon and the Lamb.

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© 2004 by Joseph J. Blaikie. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

ISBN: 1-4140-8247-9 (e-book)

ISBN: 1-4140-8245-2 (Paperback)

ISBN: 1-4140-8246-0 (Dust Jacket)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2004091634

This book is printed on acid free paper.

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, IN

1st Books - rev. 03/08/04

Contents

Prologue

Chapter I      A Hero Comes to Telluvia

Chapter II      Journey into the Black Forest

Chapter III      A Hero’s Welcome

Chapter IV      The Kingdom Beneath the Mountain

Chapter V      Evil Unleashed

Chapter VI      The King of the Dwarves

Chapter VII      A Kingdom in Chaos

Chapter VIII      The Secret City

Chapter IX      The Fires of Rebellion

Chapter X      Ursus

Chapter XI      Ambush

Chapter XII      The Drama Unfolds

Chapter XIII      A Tyrant’s Reward

Chapter XIV      Breaking the Siege

Chapter XV      The King’s Council

Chapter XVI      Affairs of the Heart

Chapter XVII      Acts of Treachery

Chapter XVIII      Assassination

Chapter XIX      The Flames of Treason

Chapter XX      Unmasking the Traitor

About the Author

Prologue

The black dragon descended upon the alabaster towers of Argeon like the sinister shadow of death itself. As if the darkness it brought with it was not herald enough, the beast let out a horrific roar announcing its malevolent intent to all that remained in the doomed city. It swooped low above the rubble left in the wake of previous attacks. Indeed, this was not the first time the dragon Mordraken had made its awful presence known in Argeon. Many of the town’s once beautiful structures were now only smoldering ruins. The king’s army had been depleted to a man in a series of vain attempts to bring an end to the dragon’s wrath. The latest to attempt this impossible feat had been the king’s own brother, Sir Celluthias.

Mordraken reared up before the ivory-colored towers of King Elluthian’s palace. The beast’s massive flapping wings drove a strong acrid wind through the castle. Serpentine eyes alight with malice scanned the ramparts for any sign of resistance, but no one dared confront the monster. With no enemies in sight, the dragon opened its cavernous mouth, revealing teeth the size of grown men. In an instant, the castle wall was bathed in orange flame. The firestorm lasted for several seconds before the dragon finally relented and turned away, leaving blackened stone and the charred remains of the king’s once glorious standard as evidence of its might. It left something else behind as well - the broken, lifeless body of Celluthias.

Celluthias was buried the following day. The ceremony marked the end of a hero’s life, but it represented a far greater end as well - the end to any hope that might have remained for the people of Argeon. The last of the kingdom’s great warriors having been laid low by the black dragon, it was now clear to even the most stalwart of citizens that it was time to abandon their cursed nation and build a new life for themselves in a land where monsters only existed in the dreams of children, if indeed such a place could be found.

But with a whisper came a spark to rekindle the flames of hope in the heart of the ill-fated king.

A word in private, if it pleases Your Highness, the Archbishop of Dunsborough spoke in an urgent tone.

Faithful and pious Onthariel, the only thing that would please me now is the immediate death of this beast that plagues us, King Elluthian said in a weary voice.

And so you shall be pleased, Onthariel said as he drew the king out of earshot of the other mourners.

Forgive my disbelief, Your Eminence, but I find it difficult to see how that is possible, the king said skeptically.

I had a vision last night, Onthariel explained. Now as I describe it to you, keep in mind that it was I who also had a vision predicting the coming of the dragon.

Yes, through tragedy your veracity has been well established, the king conceded. Please, speak on.

Two strangers will come to our land, the Archbishop continued. One man will save us from destruction…

At this the king’s eyes lit up. When will he come? he asked eagerly.

Very soon, Onthariel replied. But before your thoughts turn to rejoicing, I ask that you consider my vision in its entirety, for as I said, we will be visited by two men.

And what of this second man? Elluthian asked.

He will appear much like the first man, Onthariel explained, but in truth he is far different. He too will do great deeds, but he is a beguiler. He will gain your confidence only to betray you. The blood of innocents will stain his sword and the minds of noble men will fall victim to the contagion of his lies. He is evil embodied - a demon in the guise of a man.

Is not our course of action clear then? the king asked. Do we not simply embrace the first man and exile the second?

Oh, that it were so simple, Your Highness, Onthariel said. But alas, I was told only of two men and the nature of their character. The terms first and second only refer to the order in which I chose to describe them to you. In truth, the order of their arrival was not revealed to me.

Surely the man who slays the dragon is our savior, the king deduced.

Yes, if our salvation lies only in killing the dragon, Onthariel said. However, consider the nature of the Deceiver. He too will do great things, so much so that he will find great favor in your eyes.

Tell me, Onthariel, when all is said and done, will I make the right choice? Elluthian asked desperately. Will I choose the righteous man over the Deceiver?

I’m afraid it is not for me to answer that question, Onthariel said grimly.

Chapter I

A Hero Comes to Telluvia

The dark-cloaked man walked down a road cutting through the golden forest of Telluvia. It was a land of great beauty, one of the two remaining elven nations on Earth. The elves were a race in decline, the noblest offspring of the union of the daughters of men and the Sons of God described in the book of Genesis. In general, elves were taller in stature than humans and had longer life spans. They possessed greater agility and keener eyesight than those of other origins did. When they fought, they fought well. While they were master swordsmen, archery was the combat skill at which they excelled. However, unlike the harsh, warlike race of humans, the elves viewed armed conflict as an abhorrent action to be avoided at all costs. But sadly, peace was a commodity all too scarce throughout the turbulent history of the elven nations.

The royal city of Telluvia lay like a gem in the heart of the golden forest. A community of elves who had migrated south from the ancient elven kingdom of Varillion had built Argeon’s alabaster walls. Now in these times of danger, many Telluvians fled to the safety of the northern kingdom.

This explained the emptiness of the streets down which the traveler now walked. The once bustling commerce center was now virtually abandoned. Word of the black dragon had spread throughout the land and few merchants were willing to travel to such a dangerous place. Those who remained in the city were either hardy souls too stubborn to leave their homes, or people too poor to relocate elsewhere. The few inhabitants who were out in the streets gave the stranger looks of suspicion as he passed by. The man ignored their glances and continued on toward the king’s castle.

The majestic palace was located in the center of the once-fair city. It was the home of the mighty kings of Telluvia, the latest being Elluthian son of Ardrian. As the stranger approached the gates of the palace, an elderly guard stopped him. Only the very old and those who were too young for battle remained to protect the kingdom.

Why do you wish to see the king? the old guard asked in an authoritative tone.

I have come to slay the dragon, the stranger boldly replied. The man’s words, combined with the air of confidence that seemed to surround him, instilled hope in the heart of the guard.

The old man gestured and the stranger followed him into the castle. The interior of the palace was one of the few places that remained untainted by the dragon’s presence. The cavernous halls were adorned with banners of burgundy and gold, the colors of the kingdom. The scent of wild flowers lingered in the air like an exotic perfume. As they entered the king’s chamber, the guard introduced the stranger, referring to him simply as the Dragonslayer.

All eyes turned toward the stranger. There was much whispering among those in the throne room as they looked over the black-cloaked figure. He was a handsome man, tall in stature. His hair was long and black. The skin of his face was smooth and clean-shaven. He looked exceedingly strong and powerful, but not brutish. In fact his manner seemed to be rather regal, not like that of a battle-hardened warrior.

The king motioned for the stranger to come forward. The stranger approached the throne of the elf king Elluthian, third in the line of rulers of what was a considerably young nation. The king was clothed in a fine silver robe. His long brown hair was peppered with gray. His face was aged beyond his years, a condition caused by all the pain and worry the dragon had caused him.

On each side of the king sat his sons. Ecthion was the eldest and sat to the right of his father. Next was Cerebas, who sat to his father’s left. Eral was the youngest. His place was beside his oldest brother. All were promising young warriors, but none were prepared enough to send into battle, let alone slay a dragon. The monster had already claimed the lives of the best warriors the kingdom had to offer. It seemed pointless to risk young lives in such a hopeless cause.

But now before the king stood a man willing to take on such an endeavor.

So you have come to rid my kingdom of this wretched beast, the king spoke. Why do you wish to pursue such a dangerous cause?

I wish to prove myself worthy to you, Sire, the stranger answered.

Killing the dragon would undoubtedly prove your worth, the king said as his eyes carefully studied the broad-shouldered warrior. Onthariel’s words loomed ominously in Elluthian’s mind as he stared at the darkly clad stranger. Surely this was one of the men the Archbishop had seen in his dream. The question was which one was he?

I can see you are not an elf, Elluthian noted. What country have you traveled from to reach my throne?

I am a wanderer, Your Majesty, the stranger replied. I call no country my home.

The stranger’s reply drew a sudden glare of suspicion from the king. Are you some kind of outlaw? he asked.

I am not an outlaw, unless loneliness is a crime, the stranger answered. I am an orphan. My parents were killed by a beast such as yours in a village far south of here. I fled the doomed land as a child and have been roaming ever since.

I am most sorry for my implication, Elluthian said regretfully. Tell me brave warrior, what is your name?

Diaxes.

Elluthian arose and spoke, Let all bear witness that Diaxes the Brave has come to slay the dragon Mordraken. Let us all pray for his safety and success!

When the sun rose the following morning, its rays did not reach the cursed city of Argeon. Dark brooding clouds crowded the sky over the Telluvian capital from horizon to horizon. A terrible storm was imminent. But it was not thunder and lightning poised to descend upon the city. Rather, it was the deadly tempest known as Mordraken.

The sky was dark, but Mordraken was the color black come to life as he angled his unnatural form downward toward the city. The beast made straight for the king’s castle, apparently determined to crush the very heart of the kingdom once and for all. Again the monster scanned the ramparts with its lantern-like eyes for signs of potential adversaries. Again it saw none - until the last moment when a dark figure stepped out through the gates of the castle.

Without hesitation, Diaxes let fly the mighty spear he held in his left hand. In a remarkable display of strength and accuracy, the steel-tipped shaft hit its mark, driving deep into the luminous eye of the monster. Mordraken let out a baleful shriek as it crashed to the ground. The beast writhed in pain, using its talons in a frenzied attempt to remove the spear from its eye.

Diaxes wasted no time. He drew his sword and rushed toward the dragon. Displaying great agility, he dodged the beast’s massive flailing limbs - his eyes fixed on the great wall of serpentine skin that shrouded the dragon’s cruel, throbbing heart. Holding his sword with both hands, Diaxes threw all of his weight forward, driving the blade deeply into Mordraken’s heaving chest. The black-cloaked warrior was instantly dyed a deep shade of crimson as the dragon’s blood drenched him in a foul downpour. Diaxes stabbed again and again, ignoring the stench and sting of the creature’s mildly acidic life’s fluid. New, more piercing screams rushed forth from the dragon’s gaping maw, along with more blood. Mordraken’s fate was sealed. All that was left was for Diaxes to get clear before the dragon collapsed on him.

The king and his sons looked on from the tower above. They had stood silent in their awe as they watched the unparalleled act of bravery unfold before them. But they cheered in unison as Mordraken sprawled before the steps of the castle and let out a final gurgling death gasp.

Chapter II

Journey into the Black Forest

As reward for his heroic feat, Diaxes was named Commander of the Telluvian Army. However, the dragon the hero had slain to gain his title had reduced Telluvia’s army to nothing, leaving Diaxes as the commander of an army of one. At the king’s table the following night, Diaxes discussed the future of the army with Elluthian.

Your Highness, the commander spoke, with your permission, I would like to establish a group of field captains, knights if you will, to lead our forces during battle.

Who would these knights be? the king inquired.

Only the bravest of men, Sire, Diaxes replied.

How do you plan on selecting such men? Elluthian asked.

A test, Diaxes said, some kind of display of courage.

Your idea makes good sense, the king noted. What manner of test do you have in mind?

An expedition into the Black Forest, the commander replied.