Book One, page 29
Drakoor had reclaimed the Shasanagh the moment the boy’s mind had been emptied of its last memories, but now he needed his symbiote one more time to complete what he had begun. He released a small taste of the Shasanagh into Yanec, making him gasp and close his eyes, and his mind opened to the demon like a flower opens its petals eagerly to the new morning sun. Then, very slowly so as not to destroy the fragile mind he had so painstakingly prepared, he began to fill Yanec’s mind with images of the life he’d woven together with the Shasanagh’s help. This new life and identity would enable Yanec to be the most effective tool he possessed to conquer N’varda and lead his forces against all who opposed him. But Drakoor had to be extremely careful not to make a mistake and turn the boy’s mind to mush, and he began to sweat and grimace from the enormous amount of concentration it was requiring of him to stay in control. He filled the blank slate with specific memories he wanted the boy to have, like making him believe that he and the Sword had always been his willing servants and that they had always obeyed him without question.
Jarath had at first resisted the mindsweeps, and to his credit he’d held onto his identity for as long as he could. It had been a very long and agonising month, and Drakoor had to eventually admit that he’d underestimated the boy’s stubbornness and willpower. But then he’d realised it was because the Sword was giving him the strength to resist and in effect was protecting its host, and so he and the Shasanagh had adjusted their approach. It would have been disastrous to provoke the Sword, so Drakoor had turned it into a game of give and take, finding what the Sword would allow and where they could reach a compromise. It was a demon’s Sword, after all, therefore not too adversarial, and slowly but surely a grudging alliance was reached. After that it was only a matter of time before Jarath’s young mind began to crumble.
In the shadowy corners of the chamber the slaves cowered and whimpered and hid their faces from a sight their already damaged minds could never hope to understand. Yanec’s robe fell to the floor when his sweat-drenched body began to twitch and spasm uncontrollably, and he gasped and panted and wept from pain. Purely out of reflex, he grabbed Drakoor’s thick wrists and held on as his mind filled with a roaring torrent of fire and unbearable pressure, and he began to scream.
Drakoor sensed the precise moment everything clicked permanently into place and his roar of triumph shook the room. The slaves and those outside in the passage cringed and fell to their knees in terror and confusion and prayed that the demon would not be turning his awful gaze on them next. He let go of the unconscious boy then dropped back his head, flung his arms wide, and imagined his voice reaching through space and time. “It has begun!” he declared to all who would hear. Soon he’d possess the bitch’s mind and soul as well and then nothing would to stop him. Nothing! Iionn and his brethren were eagerly waiting for his return; he could feel it across the dimensions. Yanec groaned where he lay halfway down the dais steps, and Drakoor was filled with disdain. Mortals, pah! Weak, pathetic creatures with delusions of grandeur and an insatiable lust for immortality—the one thing they can never have. They are so malleable, so easy to control and manipulate. What do you see in them, Father? How does their glory compare with ours, your almighty firstborn sons and daughters?
But as expected his Father remained silent, and Drakoor let out a great sigh to bring his emotions back under control. The time for rage and war and the destruction of Creation was quickly approaching and then Drakoor wouldn’t hold back what he thought and felt for the Father who had betrayed and imprisoned him, Iionn, and their demon brothers and sisters. For now, though, he had to focus on gaining control of the two weapons he needed to start that war and break open the Gates that were keeping his family trapped. Once Yanec found the female Bearer, Drakoor would render both of them mindless then suck out every ounce of Sword-power they had, and when they were used up, he’d kill them in front of Iionn and watch his brother take possession of the Swords. Then Kurrn be damned! Kurrn be damned forever! Hah!
Drakoor lifted Yanec up by wrapping a huge clawed hand around his throat and standing him on his feet. Looking into his dazed gaze, he saw the fire burning behind his pitch-black irises and smiled in satisfaction. Good. Now the real work can begin. Yanec’s primary goal was to find the Sword of Heaven, even if it meant systematically wiping out every city, town, and village across the planet, but in the meantime, there was a war to be fought to distract the Therasins and keep them unaware of the real reason he was on their world. The boy could easily manage both tasks now and Drakoor was looking forward to seeing him in action. As of today, no new intel had come in regarding the female’s whereabouts and Drakoor’s frustration was escalating. Yanec needed to get started.
His eyes refocused and Drakoor slowly released his grip. He wondered what Kurrn thought of what he’d done and chuckled darkly in glee. He, a demon, had created something! “Yanec?” he whispered almost lovingly.
“Master,” came his immediate, rasping response. He felt a little beaten up and his head hurt, but he was in his master’s presence and that made everything alright.
“We have work to do,” Drakoor said, and snapped his fingers. The same two slaves as before rushed forward and draped the robe back over Yanec’s shoulders, and Drakoor led him to the chamber door with a firm arm around his shoulders to support him. It would take a few hours for his new mind and body to synchronise and Drakoor didn’t want him to stumble in front of the people outside. He was their new Lord, after all, and therefore couldn’t be seen as weak.
The doors slid open and Drakoor sneered when he saw the corridor filled with his minions waiting for him. He hated dealing with the fawning weaklings but at least they got work done. He’d summoned all the traitorous Therasins in leadership positions to attend him, as well as the leaders of his allies and their various factions who’d joined him in invading Theras with promises of great wealth and infamy. None as yet were aware of his true intentions, nor had they seen his true form (those who had in the throne room were long dead), but he’d only reveal himself to them if morale began flagging as the war dragged on. There was nothing more terrifying than a threat from a supernatural being to keep one motivated. Right now, though, he needed them to be clear on who was running the show on the ground. He understood that mortals needed leadership or they’d scatter like snow in a blizzard, and as the Bearer of the Sword of Shadows, Yanec was the obvious choice—even if he or they didn’t know why.
“Hear me!” he boomed, and the small crowd sunk to their knees. “This is Yanec, my newly elected First!” Low hisses of disapproval arose from some of the alien representatives and Drakoor hissed back and bared his very sharp teeth at them. Silence immediately returned and heads bowed. “I don’t care about your meaningless opinions or protestations,” he spat. “It is done and you will accept it. Lord Yanec possesses a power your frail minds will never understand, so I advise you not to underestimate him, for you will do so at your own peril.” Yanec stood taller at this and Drakoor was surprised to feel pride. Of course, he’d anticipated that choosing a u’man over one of the more powerful alien races would initially be seen as a weak move and that it might be met with fury and perhaps even rebellion, but he’d simply make an example of those who protested too loudly and then there’d be no more complaining. “Every alien and u’man serving me and Iionn will obey Yanec as though I have uttered the words myself. Anyone who challenges me on this will die. It’s very simple, really.” He suddenly gave them a sunny smile. “Does anyone have any objections?” Of course no one did—not if they valued their lives. “Good,” he said cheerfully. “Jaga!”
“Master.” A stout warrior with a face covered in an astounding array of scars materialised near Drakoor and knelt before him.
“I am giving you the responsibility to train Yanec and get him fit and battle-ready,” Drakoor said. “You will find him to be an excellent student.”
“As you wish, Master. I will have him ready within the month.”
“That is unacceptable, Jaga. You have two weeks. Make it happen.”
Drakoor’s glowing stare was returned with brave stoicism, the warrior’s nervousness betrayed only by a twitch in his right eye. “Two weeks, Master,” he confirmed, then stood and placed a hand on Yanec’s shoulder to lead him away.
Yanec gave his creator a questioning frown. With the Sword’s power enhancing whatever he had done to him, Yanec felt invincible.
“Go with Jaga,” Drakoor instructed as though speaking to a child who needed his father’s assurances. “He will look after you and turn you into a strong warrior.” His features hardened when he looked at Jaga. “Be certain not to harm a hair on his head or I will have your head for dinner.” Jaga blanched and nodded, then Drakoor watched Yanec being led away through the silent, watchful crowd. He couldn’t help but feel a little separation anxiety; Yanec was his firstborn, after all.
One of the robed figures near the front stood up and shuffled forward then knelt at Drakoor’s feet and waited. When he felt the demon’s burning touch on his shoulder, he said, “Greetings, Master. I have word from the north.”
“Speak, Ner.”
“Six cities have fallen since my last report and many more are weakening—”
“I’m not interested in the falling of cities and how many are dead, Ner. Your people tire me with their dismal attempts at rebellion. What I want to know is why you have not yet found the exact locations of the other three main camps?” His burning gaze raked over the gathering and not one could look him in the eye and give him an answer. They might wear oversized cloaks in an attempt to hide their identities from each other, but he knew every man, woman, and alien by name. “Explain!” he roared, and watched them hurriedly prostrate themselves on top of each other. In truth, he was not interested in the location of the camps, only Khaeri Vindor’hien, but he had to keep this knowledge from the Therasins because they all thought she was dead. Keeping them busy with menial tasks, like locating the main camps and causing chaos across the planet to distract the Therasin resistance leadership, freed up his own people to look for the girl—although they had as yet to find out anything worth acting upon, either. His patience was growing very thin.
“There will soon be a joint session of all the Head Generals and their First Commanders in a secret location in the north, Master,” Ner answered in a shaky voice with his cheek still on the cold floor. “I’m hoping to be included in this gathering, which means I can learn where the camps are located.”
“Make sure you are invited, Ner, because I would hate to tire of you.” He prodded Ner with his bare foot. “And you know what happens to people when I grow tired of them.” Ner nodded vigorously and trembled, and Drakoor sneered.
About a month after he’d invaded the planet, a handful of military leaders and kingdom rulers had come to him on their knees begging for their lives in exchange for information and to be his agents of chaos. Ner’s proposal had been to infiltrate the resistance and deliver one main camp at a time in exchange for control of the Territory the day Drakoor left to conquer the rest of the galaxy. Ner wanted to be his overlord on Theras and Drakoor had agreed without giving away to the mangy, minor lord that other more powerful Therasins had already sold their souls for the same thing. There were huge benefits to corrupting Therasin power from within and so he had promised Ner everything he desired. It amused Drakoor to make promises he had no intention of keeping. Of course, he would kill the pathetic mortal, along with all the other traitors, as soon as he had the girl. It was better to keep the weaklings stupid and oblivious about his true intentions on Theras, and he’d eventually squash them like the annoying, buzzing insects they were.
Drakoor suddenly felt a familiar but unwelcome shift inside him, and before anyone noticed his discomfort, he quickly marched back into his chamber and closed the doors behind him with a wave of his hand. Grunting and panting, he staggered to his throne and collapsed onto it just as searing heat assailed his insides. Releasing the Shasanagh into the boy had been risky and it had robbed him of his immortal power for a while. Even though it had been necessary to accomplish what he wanted, it had weakened him considerably and as yet he had not fully recovered. Maintaining u’man form took a lot of energy as well, and it would take at least another month to rejuvenate with the Shasanagh’s assistance. What would make his recovery go faster, though, was draining the boy and tasting the Sword’s power again, and he trembled in anticipation, like an addict craving the glorious, sweet in-filling of the one thing that made him feel invincible. But in the meantime, there was another solution.
“Get out!” he roared at the slaves, and they ran for the doors that he’d opened for them with a thought.
Once the doors were sealed, Drakoor S’et discarded his u’man skin and the room instantly filled with flame and sulphur as the dragon emerged. It stretched its massive wings and roared to the heavens, and everyone on board fell to the floor and covered their heads, wondering if they were about to die. If someone aboard one of the other vessels surrounding the command ship happened to look out a window, they’d see the cavernous glass dome protruding from the top of the ship blaze bright red, like one of the thousands of suns scattered across the galaxy.
In the bowels of the command ship where Jaga had taken him, Yanec’s head lifted sharply when he heard the roar and felt the ship vibrate, and he was the only one who smiled and did not cower. Even the hardened Jaga cringed and looked around nervously. While the warrior finished strapping on arm, torso, and leg guards for his first combat session, Yanec’s black eyes glinted and his face shone, for he was filled with purpose and it was glorious in its singularity.
But there was no way he could know of the agony that awaited him, of the countless hours and days he would suffer at Drakoor’s hand until he teetered on the edge of sanity and death. He did not yet have it in him to fear or suspect his master, his father, his creator of such evil and betrayal, and that he would be denied release from his hellish existence over and over again until all he would crave day in and day out was sweet, sweet oblivion.
Glossary for Book One
OLD TONGUE TITLES:
A’bin – boy
A’nes – aunt
B’iera – brother
Cai’/Cai’ra – High King
Cai’/Cai’rin – High Queen
Di’anes – daughter
Fah’/Fah’af – dad/father
Fen – lady
Ha’et Pelm’tas – Head General
Hah’nen – Highness
Kal’i/Kal’i’i – Keeper/s
K’resi – cousin
Kum’ri – uncle
Mae’/Mae’im – mom/mother
M’tas – m’ lord
M’fen – m’ lady
Pri’anes – Princess
Pri’san – Prince
S’arir – sister
Si’an – son
Su’wah Am’ru – Sword Bearer
Tas – Lord
Ta’van – Captain
Telk’tin – Commander
Vah’rit – Majesty
OLD TONGUE WORDS AND Phrases:
Cal’esti – Heaven’s (as in Cal’esti Tum’, Malkhyrin’s ancient palace)
Dei – of
Ei de’il ‘en – I love you
Ei ni – I am
Ga’sh – good (as in “Good morning/evening”)
Hai/Hai ‘en – Hey/Hey you
Ja’shesh! – Greetings!
J’en – your
Mes’ de’in – my love
Mumfa – oaf
Noi’ – no
Or’nin’ – morning
Pi’shu/Pi’shu’i – handkerchief/s
Pu’en ia’ – little one
Sa’kithi – stealth
Su’wah dei Cal’est – Sword of Heaven
Su’wah dei Haass’ – Sword of Shadows
Tau’k ‘en – thank you
Ti – too
Tum’ – gate (as in Cal’esti Tum’, Malkhyrin’s ancient palace)
Tor’an Kein ta Lat’ana’ – Truth Leads to Victory (the motto of Abronis)
Vie n’en? – How are you?
Yei’ – yes
Don't miss out!
Click the button below and you can sign up to receive emails whenever Monique Rockliffe publishes a new book. There's no charge and no obligation.
https://books2read.com/r/B-P-DKSEB-SXWIG
https://books2read.com/r/B-P-DKSEB-SXWIG
Connecting independent readers to independent writers.
Did you love Book One: The Demon? Then you should read The Girl From Space by Monique Rockliffe!
When Ben's regular dealer doesn't show up at the usual time and place one night, he tries not to freak out and decides to go looking for him. But what he didn't plan on finding were aliens landing on the roof of his car trying to kill each other!
This cold, bizarre night leads Ben into an adventure of, quite literally, galactic proportions where the threat of death and unexpected love hijacks his life and changes him and a group of alien refugees forever—one powerful, scary, beautiful alien in particular.
Read more at Monique Rockliffe’s site.
Also by Monique Rockliffe
The Sword Bearers
Book One: The Demon
Book Two: The Camp
Book Three: The Forest
Book Four: The Mercenary
Standalone
The Door
Avalin, A Vympari Legend
The Girl From Space
