Demon's Gate Read online

  Demon’s Gate

  Book Five of the Demon’s Blade Saga

  by

  Steven Drake

  3/1/2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Steven Drake

  Cover design ©Deanna Cathcart

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at the address below.

  Steven Drake

  76 Leigh Drive

  Benton, KY 42025

  [email protected]

  www.aspiesteve.wordpress.com

  Prologue: Home Again

  Footsteps echoed in the silence of the dark passage. It was only a simple mountain cave, no different than a hundred others on the western slopes of the Silver Mountains, but it held a secret passage known to just a few souls. One of those souls was Ceres Arloran. As Captain of the Sentinels of Kadanar, Ceres knew the few hidden paths into and out of the last elf sanctuary. She rarely used this passage, for good reason.

  Unlike other routes, which involved arduous climbing of windswept mountains or navigating many miles of long forgotten tunnels, this route relied upon ancient magic, something left from a time when the elves ruled most of Terralien. No one alive even knew how, why, or even when it was made. All that remained was the device itself, and the method to activate it, a secret handed down by one Sentinel captain to the next for thousands of years. Ceres would not ordinarily take this path. A skilled mystic might notice the magical aura the device generated, and thereby discover the elves’ secret sanctuary. Besides that, the magic frightened Ceres to her core. Based on what little remained of their legacy, the power of the ancients must have been truly terrifying to behold.

  Ceres only took this route because she was in a hurry. She was on a mission, an important mission for the young half-elf she now considered her king. It seemed difficult to believe how far Jerris had come in such a short time. Within a year, he had gone from a nearly useless adolescent to a mage warrior skilled enough to do battle with dragons, assassins, even one of the Demon King’s generals. Ceres had intended to guard the young prince as he foolishly followed his mentor, Darien the Executioner, on a nearly hopeless quest for vengeance, but Jerris no longer needed protection. He had already grown beyond Ceres’ considerable abilities, a fact that had given her pause, and inspired a change in her attitude.

  Ceres understood now that she could provide little help against the kinds of enemies Jerris would eventually face. Still, she could retrieve Jerris’ most powerful weapon, the legacy of his ancestors, the Staff of Kings. The staff would augment Jerris’ already formidable magic. He had left it behind because it would have attracted too much attention. The staff itself was nearly five feet long and difficult to conceal, and the magical aura surrounding it was impossible to ignore, even for the least sensitive mages.

  Attracting attention was no longer a problem. After Niarie’s display at the coliseum, the entire city found out everything about Darien, Jerris, and the mission to acquire the Star Blade. Now the entire city of Trinium was abuzz with talk of the half-elf prince who had helped retrieve the Star Blade and returned commanding a host of dragon warriors. The people’s surprising support for foreign heroes had surprised Ceres, though perhaps that only marked their desperation. The Order of the Golden Shield had endured defeat after defeat for the past century, and the Demon King’s final stroke was expected soon. People were willing to embrace any hope, however faint, yet another sign of how mercurial the race of man truly was. Children of Wind they had been named by the ancient elves, ever changing, ever restless. Ceres knew better than to put much trust in them. She could only put her trust in Jerris and hope he would have the grace and poise to manage the political intrigues of the humans and their new Empress.

  Ceres settled her mind. The cave had narrowed to just a few feet wide now, and the side passage that led to the portal was easy to miss. She slowed her pace, and raised a torch, her eyes carefully examining the right-hand wall. Within a few minutes, she saw it, an alcove concealed in the deep shadows of an outcropping. She held her torch ahead and squeezed through the narrow passage. Within a few paces, the tunnel widened, and the walls became flat and regular. She was close now.

  Within a few minutes, she passed into the portal chamber, a roughly circular room with a domed ceiling, perhaps twenty feet high or so. In the center of the room stood a stone arch, coal black, slick and smooth, almost as if wet with a thin sheen of oil. Ceres strode up to it, placed a hand on one of the runes carved into the stone on the right leg of the archway, and spoke the opening words. The rune lit up and white light flowed out of it, enveloping her, a tingling sensation that raised the hair on her neck. Then the light retreated into the stone and the runes around the archway lit in sequence from the bottom up each leg until they met in the middle. A moment after the final rune lit at the keystone of the arch, the entire space beneath the arch filled with light that rippled and swirled like rough water.

  Ceres stared at the rippling light and sighed. She had only done this a few times, and she hated this part. Walking through the portal terrified her. There was a moment as one passed through the portal when it felt like floating in emptiness, without even air to breath. Ceres shut her eyes, held her breath, and walked forward. Even with her eyes shut, she could tell when she broke the plane of the white light. It felt a bit like the light that surrounded her when the portal activated, but thicker, and sticky, like a million threads of spider’s web woven into a solid fabric that clung closely to her skin. Then came the terrifying moment where she felt as if she were floating in nothing. Then it felt like something seized her and pulled her forward, and she automatically stepped forward, her feet found solid purchase, and the web of light retreated and fell off her.

  Then it was over. Ceres found herself standing in a circular room very much like the one she had been in before, but this one was well lit with a half dozen elf lights; balls of light danced in the round orbs. It felt good to look upon them, even though no one knew how they worked either, like most everything else in Kadanar.

  “Welcome back, Ceres,” a voice called. Ceres nearly jumped at the unexpected presence of Galen, who sat in a chair against the wall.

  “You knew I was coming?” Ceres asked calmly as years of discipline quickly overcame surprise.

  “Lucca said that I should expect you. I’ve been waiting a few hours.”

  “Did she tell you why I’m here?”

  “She told me many things, and yes, that as well,” Galen said.

  “What did she tell you?” Ceres asked, catching a hint of worry on Galen’s voice. “Anything I should know?”

  “Well, she told me more or less what happened, that the quest to retrieve the Star Blade succeeded, and that Darien had narrowly survived a fight with a…” Galen hesitated, and Ceres understood why. For the elves of Kadanar, the return of the demons represented the ultimate evil, the specter that haunted the nightmares of countless generations. Ceres nodded to Galen, who shuddered and shook his head. “Did you see it?” he asked in a hushed whisper laced with long cultivated fear.

  “No, but I felt it, through miles of stone, even with my meager talents. I only saw what was left of it, I think,” Ceres said. “We think Darien must have killed it, or forced it to flee, and went after it. He used the sword.”

  “Yes, Lucca mentioned that as well,” Galen smiled wryly. “You didn’t believe in him.”

  “No, I still don’t like him, but when I felt the
power of that demon, I think I understood something,” Ceres said and shook her head. “Just sensing its presence, and I felt such hopelessness, such despair. I felt like a mouse at the foot of a dragon. It was deeper than just fear. With fear, there is some hope of victory, or at least of escape. This felt more like despair beyond even a glimmer of hope. I think that power would destroy any normal person, but Darien. He doesn’t seem to feel love, or hate, or fear, or anything. Perhaps that’s why they can’t manipulate him.”

  “It is his strength, but also his weakness, and both will be tested,” Galen added thoughtfully. “Lucca told me that as well.”

  “It sounds like nonsense,” Ceres said skeptically.

  “Maybe, but Lucca enjoys her riddles, and I have learned with experience how to interpret them. I have found that what she says is often less important than what she chooses not to say. In this case, she mentioned the Fallen Star.”

  “The last one mentioned in the prophecy? Did she say who it is?”

  “Not by name, only that Darien found her in a harsh land of snowy mountains, far to the west. I believe she meant that Darien’s trials were related to this Fallen Star, whoever she is, or perhaps that she, herself, is the trial.”

  “Hmm…” Ceres grumbled. Darien was made for fighting battles, not for talking and friendship. “If we have to rely upon Darien the Executioner to convince this person to help us, I am not optimistic.”

  “I would tend to agree, but we all must face our own challenges.” Galen raised his head and arched an eyebrow, highlighting the sharp blue in his eyes contrasting with the silver of his hair. “This is true of you as well, is it not? I can’t help but notice you have returned alone. I did not expect you would leave the young prince’s side.”

  “He… doesn’t really need my protection,” Ceres sighed. “It was as you said all along. He is headstrong, and he was determined to do his part, yet he prevailed, without my help.”

  “He was born to be a king, and a king does not need a chaperone.” Galen smiled. “But a king does need soldiers, generals, and advisors who will speak the truth even when it is difficult, and who will execute his will, even when they don’t entirely agree.”

  “Yes, he does,” Ceres said, understanding Galen’s meaning. Though Ceres had seen over ninety summers, to Galen, who had seen nigh a thousand, she was still a child, with much to learn. Perhaps no matter how old one grew, there would always be something more to learn. “I didn’t expect it would be so soon. He’s still barely more than a child.”

  “Yes, yet even as a child, he does what neither of us could,” Galen said. “The centuries have taught me that many things are less important than we believe, age is one. Jerris was born to do this, and he embraces his destiny. It must seem overwhelming to him, to be plucked out of obscurity and told that he is destined to lead an entire race, yet he accepts that burden, and embraces it. That is the spirit of a true leader, and I confess I am envious, for no matter how learned or wise I become, I will never possess what he was born with. No amount of experience, effort, training, or time can make something into what it is not. That is a lesson for each of us, to embrace what we are, rather than strive to be something else.”

  Ceres fell silent. It made perfect sense now. She had seen it in Jerris. He possessed a quality that went beyond experience or talent, something that couldn’t be duplicated. No matter who Jerris met, he seemed to inspire them. He seemed able to convince anyone of anything. He could influence, or even inspire, a man like Darien the Executioner, a marvel no less astounding to Ceres Arloran than commanding the clouds to depart the sky.

  “You see it now.” Galen smiled and chuckled. “You didn’t before, but that is what is unique about you. You are always grounded, realistic, quick to doubt, slow to trust, and loyal to a fault. Jerris will need these things from you in the coming months and years. Embrace that, when you return to him.” Ceres cracked a smile and nodded. Galen’s wisdom always seemed to calm her. “Come, let us speak more in my study. I wish to hear everything that happened on your journey. Though Lucca mentioned the important developments, she was, as usual, rather sparse with the details, and I wish to hear everything.”

  “Of course. I can’t stay long though. I need to get back.”

  “I know, but you have time at least to refresh yourself. The journey back will be a long one.”

  That much was certainly true. For whatever reason, the portal only worked in one direction. Not even Galen could remember a time the portal had ever worked from this end. Perhaps it was designed that way on purpose, or perhaps the entrance on the Kadanar side had been damaged somehow. Nobody knew and it hardly mattered, as nobody could repair it anyway. It was simply another one of those mysteries lost to the ravages of time.

  Galen stood and motioned to the door, then started forward. Ceres followed. She would take the time to have a meal, and a few hours rest, then start back, to face whatever challenges awaited, and help Jerris however she could. It was a worthy destiny to embrace, and she looked forward to it now. Jerris had long since won her over, as he had so many others. Just what was it about the young half-elf that made him so perfectly suited to leadership? Perhaps after a few decades serving by his side, she would understand.

  Chapter 1: Master of the Blade

  The north wind howled and shook the sides of the tent that Darien shared with Mirisa Algalon, a woman he had only begun to truly understand. She had been found twenty years ago, asleep in a ruin, and raised in a foreign land. Darien had set out to find that very ruin, hoping to ease his concerns about the origin of Mirisa’s strange powers, particularly her ability to perceive demonic energy. He had found the answers to a great many of his questions, but rather than ease his fears, those answers had only multiplied them. Darien stared down at the book, reading again a passage that he had read dozens of times, one he had purposely kept away from Mirisa.

  It was our fanatical determination to preserve life, our very allegiance to the light that became our undoing. In our zeal to preserve life at any price, the greatest of our mages and artificers sought to use their blood to bind themselves to the forces of magic, to become light itself. They failed many times, yet they persisted, not knowing the danger they courted, for the power of the bloodstones they created drew the Lords of the Void, the formless ones. The formless whispered of untold powers. What even the greatest of us could not pry from the holy light, the void lords would give freely.

  Our great mages, our leaders, sought them out, brought them into their own bodies. At first, they seemed benign, leading us toward a great future we would share. They groomed us, prepared us, and led us to the Day of Doom, where they would give what they promised. On that day, more than two thirds of our people vanished into the void. Damned forever, cursed with formlessness, they reside still with the demons in oblivion, indistinguishable now from their masters. They escaped death, but they no longer truly live. Those who remained were given a simple choice, to submit, or to be consumed, body and soul. We were damned either way, with no hope for escape.

  May our descendants in the distan future forgive us for our weakness. Out of desperation, out of desire, but most of all, out of fear, we knelt before the Lords of the Void, swore our oaths, and turned our backs on our kin. To save our own lives, to save our families, we accepted the most dangerous of bargains. We agreed to serve the Lords of the Void in exchange for mercy. They became our masters, and we their slaves. They marked us with their power, a curse upon our blood that would be passed to our descendants forevermore. We cannot run. We cannot hide. We can only pray that the Lord of Creation, he who brought light to the void, will one day set us free. We will be set apart from our kin until the end of days, perhaps even beyond, marked by the demons for all eternity. We offer this account to future generations as a warning to those who might repeat our mistakes. We are the Fallen. Pity us, fear us, or hate us, but above all remember the truth.

  Darien sighed, shook his head, and gingerly closed the book, careful to avoid d
amaging the aged yellow pages. He had been telling Mirisa that her magic was harmless, not derived from demons at all, just as he had believed all magic was. Now, he felt uncertain. He hoped to learn more from the other tomes he had brought from the elf sanctuary of Albenar, but that would have to wait. This book had been the only one written in the common speech. Most of the more interesting tomes were written in what Mirisa called the ‘old language’, something akin to the ancient elven of Kadanar, but with visible differences. Darien intended to have Miri translate some of the texts when they returned to Exire, now less than a day ahead.

  As he shut the book, Darien looked over at Mirisa, who was sleeping soundly in her bedroll on the other side of his tent, seemingly quite content, smiling in her sleep. She had been in good spirits, given everything she had been through. In the hidden elf sanctuary where she was born, she had discovered the truth of her origins. Mirisa Algalon had been born centuries ago, to Argas Algalon, one of the elven master artificers who helped create the Demon’s Blade, and a faerie mother, Meela, sister of the faerie queen Lucca. Everything in Darien’s knowledge and experience told him this should be impossible, yet there she was, impossibility given flesh. Darien wished he could have stayed longer, taken weeks or months to pry every secret he could from Albenar, but curiosity had to yield to necessity. They had not brought enough supplies for an extended stay, and there were other pressing concerns.

  The Order of the Shade had infiltrated Catarina through the vainglorious Prince Zandrek, and built a base, Sorrowmont Fortress, in the Green Mountains. Worse still, the Shades had been to Albenar before Darien, and taken both a living star and dozens of books. Darien could only assume they held the secrets of creating bloodstones and summoning demons. Most disturbingly, Darien had learned of the connection that linked Albenar and the Demon King, Varias. Varias had known exactly where to look, because he himself had been there.