Darkness Rising: Disciples of the Horned One Volume One (Soul Force Saga Book 1) (34 page)
Read Darkness Rising: Disciples of the Horned One Volume One (Soul Force Saga Book 1) Online
Authors: James Wisher
D
amien sat
in a conjured chair outside the archmage’s office while Lane gave her report. He suspected they’d have a good deal more than business to talk about so he made his seat more comfortable than usual. It was just as well his master’s office was so far off the beaten path; it saved him many odd looks as he lounged in an overstuffed chair in the middle of the hall. Pleased as he was at having solved the border issue without having to kill any of the barons, Damien’s mission had raised as many questions as it answered. The office door opened and Lane came out, her eyes and nose red.
“Did you have a good talk?” Damien stood up and absorbed his construct.
“Very good.” Lane hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For showing me what a brat, and worse, hypocrite, I’d been. I judged sorcerers for their power at the same time I hated being judged for my lack of power. Well, for now on I judge people as people, no more no less.”
“I’m glad I could help. I’m sure it’ll make you an even better diplomat.”
“More than that, it’ll make me a better person. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“I’d like that.” Damien smiled as she walked down the hall. When Lane had gone he rapped on the open door and stuck his head in. The archmage was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. “Master?”
“Come in. Close the door.”
Damien did as she said, taking his place in front of her desk, hands clasped behind his back. He felt her sound barrier fall into place.
“For heaven’s sake, Damien, sit down. You don’t need to stand like a man waiting for news of his execution every time you report in. Lane tells me you did good work, though she was a little vague on the details of what happened in the badlands.”
Damien settled into an empty chair, still uncomfortable sitting in the presence of his superior. “I wasn’t certain how much I should tell her. I figured I’d let you fill her in on any details she might need.”
“Good decision. Why don’t you just start at the beginning.”
Damien did as she said. It took a good half an hour to complete his report and she never stopped him once. When he reached their arrival at the royal castle Damien said, “That’s what happened. Mikhail Santen escaped and I’m sure many bandits still inhabit the fortress, but the families are safe, for the moment anyway.”
The archmage shook her head. “Connor Blackman, who would have thought. We knew that boy was trouble, but to become a warlock and threaten the kingdom… I wouldn’t have believed it. We need to find him, and Mikhail too.”
“Yes, Master. The kingdom is a big place. Where should we start looking?”
“The Tower. Some of Connor’s yearmates might have some insight into his habits. He must be in the wild lands. We could hardly miss a crimson-eyed warlock wandering around civilization.”
“Judging from Mikhail’s armor the Cult of the Horned One is involved somehow. I wonder if Connor summoned the demon I killed and opened the hell gate Jen found.”
“I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.” The archmage steepled her fingers, tapping the index fingers together as she thought. “In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if he either took over the old cult or created a new one from scratch. On a more straight-forward note, good work dealing with the mayor of Allentown. I don’t know how he operated without our notice for so long. I need to speak to Banlon about sending more sorcerers to patrol the little southern towns.”
“Banlon?” Damien didn’t recognize the name.
“Sorry, High Sorcerer Banlon, Master of the South. He’s too interested in his research and it takes away from his more mundane duties. I never figured out why he stood for High Sorcerer at the last gathering.”
Damien had no interest in politics. “What should I tell the king? I’m sure he’ll want me to have dinner with him now that I’m back.”
“I’ll give him a full report, but if he asks hold nothing back. We have no secrets from the king.” The archmage groaned to her feet and Damien leapt up to join her. “I knew I was right to make you my agent. This mission just solidifies it. On a personal note, I don’t know what happened between you and Lane, but you brought home a different person. Wherever you buried her anger I’m glad to see it gone. For that gift I thank you, not as your master, but as a mother glad to see her daughter happy.”
“She’s a wonderful woman and I’m glad I got to spend some time with her. Is there anything else, Master?”
“No, take a few days, rest, relax. When you’re ready come see me. I’m sure I’ll have no shortage of missions for you.”
M
ikhail hurt everywhere
, but nowhere so much as his shoulder. His shoulder where an arm should have hung. Instead, his arm lay on the ground back in the badlands. All thanks to that puny worm. The boy had ruined everything. The horse under him shuddered. The beast had almost reached its limit. The animals could only bear the demonic energy so long before it burned them out. He’d have to land soon or risk falling to the mountains below.
Not that it mattered. Below him the entrance to his master’s base was only half a mile away. The stupid animal could last that far anyway. A minute later Mikhail spotted the shadowed cave mouth. He urged the horse down.
It landed in a patch of snow, shuddered again, and collapsed. Mikhail held out his hand and absorbed the demonic energy he’d used to transform his mount. When the last of the power drained away from the horse, all that remained was a rotted corpse. He’d need a new mount. Mikhail rotated his damaged shoulder. He’d need a new arm as well, assuming the master didn’t kill him.
Mikhail shook his head. Master Blackman wouldn’t dispose of him so lightly. He was the master’s strong right hand, well strong left hand anyway.
The tunnel had no lights burning anywhere, but to Mikhail’s demon eyes the path was clear. He followed the rough passage for fifty paces, ignoring several side passages. With each step the master’s power grew stronger. The warlock was probably brooding in his library again. He should get out more. It wasn’t healthy to sit in the dark and think too much.
Mikhail barged into the library. The master sat on his black chair at the far end, turning his amulet over and over. Mikhail walked past the shelves and their demonic artifacts. The creepy things never did fascinate him like they did Morana.
He went down on one knee in front of the warlock. “Master.”
Master Blackman looked up from his amulet. “What happened to you?”
“I was defeated, Master.” The words almost stuck in his throat. He wanted to make excuses, but the master wouldn’t accept them. “A sorcerer bested me and freed the prisoners.”
“Took your arm as well.” The master’s cold voice was indifferent to Mikhail’s suffering. “Tell me about this sorcerer.”
“He wasn’t much more than a boy, but he was strong and he fought well. Can you fix my arm, Master?”
“Morana warned me you weren’t suitable for the task of being my knight. She said you were vain, weak, and stupid. Perhaps I should have listened. But you were so enthusiastic. You practically tripped over yourself in your rush to murder your father and take your place at my side. Now your incompetence has ruined my plans for our southern front.”
Mikhail winced to hear his master lay out his many failings. To hear that Morana had tried to convince the master not to accept his service didn’t surprise him. The bitch had always been jealous of him. “If you fix my arm I can make everything right. The women and children won’t be difficult to reclaim.”
“You truly are an idiot. General Taos will be on alert and the archmage will have sent more sorcerers to protect the border. No, that avenue is closed to us.” Master Blackman rose up off his throne and walked through the shelves. He finally stopped and plucked a long, black, desiccated arm off a shelf. “Come here.”
Mikhail stood and rushed over to his master’s side.
“Don’t move.”
The master touched the stump of the arm to his shoulder. Black fire burst from the appendage. Pain such as Mikhail had never imagined screamed through his body as the flames fused the new arm to his shoulder.
When the pain died down Mikhail flexed the fingers of his new hand. They worked well and felt stronger than the one he lost. That it was an ugly, black, scale-covered thing seemed a small price. “Thank you, Master.”
“Best be careful, Mikhail, I have no more spares.”
“Yes, Master. What shall I do now?” He desperately wanted a new task to prove his worth.
“You will stay here and guard our base while I’m gone. You would have led the fight on the southern border, but that option is now gone.”
“Please, Master, take me with you. Morana can—”
“Morana has her own work to do. Unlike you, she’s never failed me. My own task is too important to have you getting in my way. I doubt anyone will stumble on this place, but if the wrong people should show up you will kill them. Surely you can manage that simple task.”
The master’s contempt clawed at Mikhail. He wanted nothing so much as to prove he was worthy to join the master when he ascended to true power. “No one will get past me, Master.”
“Remember, only kill the wrong people. If some of our allies should show up I don’t want to find their bodies bleeding on the stone. Everyone has their part to play if the plan is to succeed despite your failure. If you fail me again I’ll have your own arm strangle you. Understand?”
“Yes, Master. I won’t fail.”
“Good. A new world is waiting for us, Mikhail. If you wish to see it you must prove your worth. Otherwise you burn with the rest of the garbage.”
A
nd so we
reach the end of Volume One. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you’d like to get a free story telling more about how Lizzy went from flesh and blood demon to sword spirit please
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O
ther Books
in the Disciples of the Horned One Trilogy:
Raging Sea and Trembling Earth
A complete list of my books can be found on my website.
J
ames E. Wisher
is a writer of science fiction and fantasy novels. He’s been writing since high school and reading everything he could get his hands on for as long as he can remember. This is his seventh novel.
