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Halfway-Daemon — Serenity's Dissension-1
Published: 2009-08-01 04:26:14 +0000 UTC; Views: 121; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 2
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Serenity’s DissensionA Novel By T.J. Condron (Penname: T.J. Sarejevo)
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Table Of Contents
PRELUDE: THE USE OF DEATH PAGE 3
BOOK ONE: DISSENSION IN THE FACE OF SERENITY PAGE 11
CHAPTER ONE: AN HEIR TO VIOLENCE PAGE 12
CHAPTER TWO: MORE THAN IMAGINED PAGE 32
CHAPTER THREE: CHANGE ON THE WIND PAGE 45
CHAPTER FOUR: INDIGO AND BEGERON PAGE 60
CHAPTER FIVE: THE THIEVES GUILD PAGE 100
CHAPTER SIX: ZYFEKID PAGE 138
CHAPTER SEVEN: NEW PROMISES PAGE 152
CHAPTER EIGHT: A FAVOR FOR A FAVOR PAGE 175
INTERLUDE: “FOR YOUR SERVICES…” PAGE 200
BOOK TWO: THE KILLING GROUND PAGE 201
CHAPTER NINE: TREACHERY PAGE 202
CHAPTER TEN: SEAS OF BLOOD PAGE 230
CHAPTER ELEVEN: IRUNE PAGE 261
CHAPTER TWELVE: THE WASTES OF DRIHAL PAGE 299
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE BROKEN WALLS PAGE 340
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: CALYME PAGE 400
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE SWORD OF THE APOCALYPSE PAGE 450
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: IN ASH REBORN PAGE 480
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: OFFERING OF SHAME PAGE 505
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: A GOD OF MERCY PAGE 525
EPILOGUE: SERENITY IN THE FACE OF DISSENSION PAGE 540
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He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster; and when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.
---Frederick Nietchze; Beyond Good and Evil
All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to stand aside and do nothing.
---Edmund Burke
The road to awe has begun
With each foe I face, each battle won,
And now I know that my sadness shows
And my soul is darkened by setting suns.
The dust blows around my feet
The wind, the sand and shadows meet.
Fallen by the road, there is
Redemption for all, and even me.
---Anonymous poet, The Road to Awe
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PRELUDE: The Use Of Death
He charged the high priest, claymore held high, a cry of burning wrath escaping his throat.
Smiling benignly, the twisted, robed creature raised a long, clawed hand and whispered a few arcane phrases. From the ground, in a sheet of boiling magical energy, two upright figures of the deepest blackness arose. Flexing their thick, muscular necks of shadowy smoke, the summoned fiends raised enormous flails of darkened steel and launched themselves bodily at the charging warrior in defense of their master.
Detrerei lowered his claymore and placed both feet wide in a bracing stance, thrusting with his blade at the smoky torso of one of the creatures. He felt satisfaction as his long, barbed blade slid through unnatural flesh and out of the fiend’s back, but noticed that the other fiend was closing in from his left and swinging its flail in a vicious arc. Detrerei shifted slightly, letting his left hand release his claymore in a vain attempt to bat away the large, spiked steel ball aimed for his head.
The weapons head smashed into his forearm, and Detrerei could feel bones shatter beneath the bracer he had used to turn away the blow. Groaning loudly, Detrerei fell back, clutching his ruined arm to his chest and pulling his sword out of the dead creature in front of him. He turned to face the fiend as it retracted its black flail for another swing.
From beside him a blur appeared, and a figure in midnight-black jute leather darted toward the shadowy monster with a long, curving blade. As the fiend turned to face the newcomer, the warrior raised the blade and performed a wickedly expert slash and thrust that both lopped off the fiends arm and then ripped through its chest. The fiend, incapable of uttering a sound, merely fell to its armored knees, and then slumped forward onto the temple floor before dissipating back to the cold hell that had spawned it.
Detrerei turned to face the priest again, and felt the most terrible pain across his left eye. Falling back, clutching his face, Detrerei squinted through tears and blood to see a hulking, lizard-like beast before him, pulling filmy lips back in a terrifying grin. Detrerei slumped against one of the temple columns around him, holding his claymore before him in a feeble attempt at defense.
The black-clad figure beside him dove toward the creature, slashing and stabbing furiously, occasionally parrying strikes delivered from the creature’s long claws.
“So,” A female voice cried from the black-clad warrior, “You have decided to deal with Saurians now, Iluan?”
The robed priest at the fore of the temple nodded smugly, an evil grin still plastered on his face. He pulled a long, thin wooden stick from beneath his robes and whispered yet more arcane words. A bolt of bluish-white lightning arced from the end of the stick, smashing against the female warrior and pinning her to the wall, jolting and screaming.
Detrerei felt a red mist cover his eyes, and found it wasn’t caused by the blood running from the wound on his face. With a guttural roar, he forced his left hand on his claymore, ignoring the pain it caused him. Placing his left foot in front of him, he raised his long blade high in front of him, taking a few steps forward and slashing hard at the lizard monsters neck.
There was a slight resistance to his cut, and he felt something black and sticky cover his face. It was the monsters blood. He wiped it off with a sweaty hand in time to see the creatures head roll across the flagstones of the temple floor. Then he looked up at the priest.
The priest had managed to turn his wand toward him, but before he could even utter a syllable, Detrerei scrambled behind one of the many columns in the temple.
“You cannot beat me!” Shrieked the apparition named Iluan. “The power of Calyme is behind me! The will of the prophets be done! I will kill this whelp before he can fulfill the prophecy!”
Detrerei knew the wand the priest was using was powerful, because he could feel the hairs on his hands stand up from its discharge of static electricity, even from behind the column. He waited until the humming of lightning died away before rushing out from behind the column, sprinting in his mad dash for the priest.
The priest had dropped the wand and was raising a mace when Detrerei smashed into him. Using his weight, he grabbed the priests shoulder and forcibly rammed him into the ground, twisting his arm to make him release a flanged steel club. They began rolling on the flagstones, each scrabbling for an advantage. The priest’s hands were slipping in the blood on Detrerei’s face, trying to dig at the wound the lizard creature had given him.
Detrerei’s own hands were at the priest’s throat, pressing down mercilessly.
After thirteen seconds, the priest began to realize that he was running out of oxygen, and began slapping and pulling at Detrerei’s hands. Detrerei redoubled his efforts, tightening his grip into an iron noose that promised to squeeze the life from the evil priest.
The priest’s movements began to slow, his vain attempts at breathing turning into hoarse rattles. After two minutes of choking, the priest finally slumped back, his eyes glazed. Detrerei released the priest’s throat, and let out a shocked gasp to see that there was a bloody hole where the priest’s larynx used to be.
Detrerei rose painfully to his feet, and walked to where the black-clad woman lay, a worried expression on his face.
He was a tall wolf, with short, tan-colored hair that was tied into a simple topknot. He was dressed in a chain shirt, with a patchwork tunic of steel scales and a jute leather hauberk covering him from neck to groin. Steel greaves on his legs, bracers on his forearms, and pauldrons on his shoulders shined dully, dimmed by blood and caked with dust. He carried his claymore before him with the ease of long practice. Blood ran down his face, and covered the bronze hue of his right eye. He reached down toward the woman who had aided him.
The woman, a tall vixen whose head was mostly covered by a black hood, turned to look at him, and offered a wan smile. Detrerei breathed a huge sigh of relief, then offered his paw toward her.
Colisp grasped it and stood, pulling her hood off and shaking loose long tresses of red hair streaked with a few strands of white. Her face was smooth, unmarred, and vibrantly, agelessly beautiful. Her eyes were an interesting shade of gold, if in an unpolished and lusterless way. She picked up the long, curved scimitar next to her, sheathing it in one practiced motion at her side.
Detrerei nodded at her.
“Thank you for the help Colisp. Where is the rest of the militia?”
Colisp shrugged. “They were caught up in a battle outside. Apparently Iluan had hired bandits to help guard his endeavors at Alzar’Ruac Monastery.”
“I never knew you could fight like that.” He said.
Colisp’s mouth dropped open. “With all that I’ve taught you? The life of a Sky Orchid adept is tough and rigorous. I thought you would think higher of me than that.”
Detrerei hunched his armored shoulders, like he always did when his former caretaker and guardian was about to get angry. “I didn’t know how you would do in a real combat situation.”
Colisp looked chagrined. “I’ve been in a lot more fights than you have, pup. And exercised a lot more grace in them than you did today. Your strikes are slower than mud sliding down a ravine.”
“Yeah, well, give me a break. This isn’t like chasing raiders and outlaws. And my face hurts like hell---”
A deep rattling gurgle from behind caused them both to turn around.
The priest, whose hood had fallen back to reveal the twisted features of a malformed horse, arose. His face was purple and splotchy with congealing blood, and he turned his head slowly to regard Detrerei.
Detrerei was frozen to the ground with shock. “Impossible…“ He whispered, “He’s dead…his throat was crushed…”
The priest gave a horrible chuckle, like stone rasping stone.
“You are stronger than I thought. I knew I shouldn’t have brought you here, heir to the prophecy.” The priest flexed the muscles in his arched neck.
“Even in death,” The undead creature murmured, “My soul persists to fulfill the will of Calyme. And now, pup, I will destroy your soul, and use your strength to continue covering this world with death.”
The priest extended a hand, and a gout of black flame shot out at Detrerei, but instead of burning him, it instead seemed to reach inside him, touching his heart and twisting it with the most terrible pain he had ever experienced…
“No!” Screamed Colisp.
Colisp leaped forward, cutting off the priests arm with a furious strike. Detrerei felt the pain recede slowly.
The priest turned to regard her, and, lifting his other hand, shot out a different tongue of black flame at Colisp, holding her in place but contorting her with its dark power. She screamed, and the priest turned away from her to regard Detrerei.
“Flee, pup!“ It hissed. “But know this! I will find you, for you are marked…and this memory I give you will burn itself in your heart and soul more than my corrupting touch ever could.”
The undead priest lifted his other stump of an arm, and Detrerei felt a force press against him, pressing the air from his lungs, pressing him into blackness.
Above, the temple roof began crumbling…
* * *
Detrerei opened one eye, because the other was much too painful to open.
He looked around to see the members of the militia standing around him, some cringing back, and some looking at him with looks of furtive suspicion.
He grunted, and stood up. Turning on his heel, he looked around at the militia he had known as family for the past five years.
“What happened?” He asked.
Captain Zansi stepped forward, a grim look on his tough, broad warthog face. A long scar creased his features from brow to chin. “The Monastery has collapsed, Det. We were hoping to get answers from you.”
Detrerei shuddered. “We fought…the high priest. Me and Colisp…I choked him to death…he was strong…had magic. There were lizard things that fought for him---”
“Saurians…” Someone spat.
Detrerei nodded. “That’s what Colisp said. Then…he rose up from death.” He had a hard time believing his own words. He looked at his company. They wore expectant looks on their faces.
“Go on.” Said Captain Zansi.
“He said he would serve someone named ‘Calyme,’ even in death,” Said Detrerei in a rush. “He said that Calyme’s power would cover the world in death.”
And he said that I was marked.
Detrerei began to panic. “We need to search the temple. Colisp could still be alive. We need to find her!”
“We’ve already searched the rubble,” said Shilista, a snow leopard and a former friend of Detrerei’s back at the militia school. “And we haven’t found a trace of the high priest or Colisp. You knew it was a bad idea to bring her along, Detrerei. Her fighting style is…unnatural.”
“We needed her!” Detrerei almost shouted. “We knew something was wrong at Alzar’Ruac Monastery. Something evil---”
“And we know that whatever's inside left you to survive, and Colisp to die.” Growled Captain Zansi.
“What? No, I---”
“Why did you live, Det? This smells wrong. What allowed you to survive the collapse? You had to be almost half a mile inside the monastery, beneath the catacombs in the temple proper. How did you survive something like that?” Captain Zansi folded his arms expectantly.
Detrerei shook his head. “The high priest…he was using this black flame to…I don’t know, twist something inside me and Colisp. It hurt so much, but it didn’t burn. He told me…he told me I was marked.” Detrerei shivered at saying it. “He said that the memory of the pain would be burned in my soul more than…what he did…ever could. Then…I remember…blackness. I woke up here.”
Detrerei looked around at the militia. They were shuffling away from him, holding their weapons and shields up before them in cautious defense. Captain Zansi sweated openly as he stepped away from Detrerei.
“Pup,” He said, “The priest has cursed you. We cannot allow you to come back to Jiradonni.”
“What?” Breathed a shocked Detrerei.
Captain Zansi shuffled backward even more. “You are henceforward exiled from Jiradonni. The villages, and even cities around the countryside, are banned to you. Even your name will be anathema.” Zansi looked down. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, but…”
Detrerei was still speechless, but somehow found his voice.
“But why?”
Captain Zansi looked uncomfortable. “I will not say, pup. You had best be on your way, wherever you will go. It is past time we stop speaking to you.” Raising a clenched fist, Zansi ordered the troop to form up.
Detrerei felt the first creeping of emotion back into him, and it turned out to be rage.
Detrerei rushed forward and swung his right fist at Zansi, knocking him to the ground with a great commotion of clanking metal. Around him, Detrerei could hear the sound of bows creaking as arrows were drawn back. He turned to see Shilista looking at him, with both sadness and acceptance warring in her green eyes.
“Violence will do you nothing. Just…leave. Find something. Do something. Live, if you must, but leave.”
“Why?” Growled Detrerei, wishing he still had his claymore, but knowing the scabbard at his back was empty.
Shilista looked away. “Go. It is not right to speak to those already dead. You are lost to us, through your curse. It is not your fault, but you are nothing to us now. Just a memory, but still nothing. Now go…”
Bows were lowered. Captain Zansi stood up, still avoiding looking at Detrerei, and ordered the militia to head back north.
Back to Jiradonni.
As they marched away, Detrerei screamed. His scream was full of hatred, anger, and rage. That day, Detrerei vowed, would be the one his kindred rued. The world he had once come to love had been denied to him, and so he would make all those who had hurt him know his suffering.
I will break this world. I will make my curse known to everyone. Even my own blood will suffer my wrath. The taste of vengeance will be mine.
He could still see through both eyes, but his soul was beginning to become blinded with the most terrible wrath the world of Kelenifar could ever have foreseen.
