The Slayarians - Book One by JM Barnes (pdf to ebook reader .txt) 📖

out my friends elf or I’ll take your life as payment for theirs.”
Graton could understand the human’s confusion after loosing friends in such a manner.
“I am sorry for your loss, human, but I have nothing to do with that creature.” Graton would be patient with this one. He placed his spear’s blunt end outward and put Galen to a safe distance.
At every lunge Galen met a thunk on the head. Elven speed always overcomes poor weapon use. A shield wouldn’t even win Galen this battle so he changed tactics.
“Elf, I believe your innocence but can you aid me? My friends may yet live.” Galen wouldn’t even consider the possible death of his friend, Darkon.
Graton knew he would have to handle the situation delicately. He nodded to Galen, “I am Graton, a Griffon lord and I came here seeking someone who needed help. I have two spells I may use to…”
Cut off in midsentence Graton stopped and Galen followed his gaze to the lake. There he saw a shape, coming in slow. A short time later it closed to a discernible distance and a voice was heard calling out Galen’s name. It was Darkon and Sevele, they lived!
As the huge makeshift raft bumped the wall the land bound warriors realized it was no raft at all but a huge water dwelling creature. Split down its gullet, it was slain apparently from the inside. The prince held out his hand and lifted his friends out of the stagnant water.
“Almost had me and Sevele,” Darkon explained, “but I kept thinking I could get to my sword and cut out of it. I couldn’t get to my sword and then it happened.” He appeared unsure he could explain with words what had occured. His haunted look only made the prince more curious.
The ever impatient Galen then pleaded, “What? What happened?”
Darkon couldn’t withhold such information, not from the man who had saved his life. Not to mention the man who financed every bit of they’re travels.
Holding his left arm up Darkon said, “My arm became a sword.”
Sevele stood quietly at his side and nodded, adding, “Also, I heard his voice in my head. It was the only thing that kept me conscious.”
Impulsively Sevele reached for Darkon and tightly embraced him. Still shivering from the icy water he returned the embrace. Galen could only stand by. Clearly more occurred than he would ever truly know but he was glad to see them both alive and in good health. Then he remembered Graton the Griffon lord but only because his friends stared past him over his shoulder.
“Ah, my friends, I had forgotten! This is Graton, he was going to help me rescue you.” Galen held an arm toward the elf.
Bowing, Graton said, “Lady Sevele is a legend of sorts among the elves of Ara’moor. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”
At this Sevele appeared startled then almost embarrassed as she peeled herself from Darkon’s strong grasp.
Straightening her mail coat she managed a sort of curtsy as she said, “My lord, you embarrass me. It’s my pleasure alone. Your family is said to be among the most honored and respected of elves.”
Before Graton could respond Darkon interjected, “Your aid would have been appreciated. I am Darkon Demonslayer.”
Holding his hand out to the elf as if to make a warrior’s clasp he was taken aback when Graton did not return the offer.
Though Graton did say, “Your skill must be great for never before have I heard of anyone living after a meeting with this beast. Though it never truly allows for a fair fight.”
Crooking the forefinger and middle finger of his left hand, Graton raised his hand over his head and followed with a shrill hawk like cry. Goosebumps shivered among the three companions.
Sevele quickly explained, “Lord Graton has given you a great tribute. That is the cry of the great golden eagles of Ara’moor and is given to only their greatest warriors.”
This time Graton and Darkon bowed toward one another causing Galen to further lose his patience. “All right, enough of this! Let us move away from this lake of death and get you two dry. We’ve only just begun this adventure!”
Taking up the torch he had lit earlier Galen headed down the tunnel from which Graton had come. As the others filed behind him Graton wondered if he might stay with this trio of adventurers for a while.
It wasn’t until they reached the tunnel mouth he had stood in when he’d heard the cry for help that Darkon approached him saying. “It would please me much if you would join our quest, Graton. Safety in numbers has its benefits.”
Graton readily accepted and said, “It would please me as well, yet I must make one request. Just that my own quest might be added to yours. You see, I am seeking an item of great importance to my people. It has been hidden from us for several hundred winters and only recently was it placed in this dungeon by a prankster fearie.”
Darkon replied, “Of course! We know already that the item we seek is on only the second level of the dungeon, where we are now. It will be a simple matter to continue on.” Darkon did not notice the confused stare Galen gave him. The prince did not recall being told that the spear was on the second level. How did Darkon know that?
Graton seemed to lose some of his excitement and asked, “How is it we are so lucky? My quest lies also on the second level. Would it be an affront for me to ask what the item you seek is?”
Seeing where this was going Darkon spoke quickly, “Jvar the guardian sent us for the spear of Bailick.”
Graton then chuckled and a more musical sound the two humans had never heard. Truly elves were fey creatures.
Graton’s laughter subsided and he said, “Of course, Jvar would never allow me this one small victory!”
While the others stared back blankly he smiled ruefully and began to explain, “You see, after having discovered by magic the location of the spear I came to Jvar seeking entrance. Only having to tell him my tale and what I sought in these tunnels he granted me entrance. I should have known he wouldn’t allow it to be so easy for me.”
Sevele spoke first saying, “I see also. You would have to contend with a trio of reckless adventurers as well as the usual inhabitants.”
Darkon nodded saying, “Now I fear my quest may never be fulfilled. For my gift in return was to be an unlocking of the recesses of my mind. Only Jvar seems to have any understanding of my problem. Only he can actually look into my thoughts.”
Graton truly looked saddened at this but it was Galen who said, “Fear not, Darkon. I am sure we can complete both quests still. Did not Jvar say we merely had to bring the spear to him?”
Eyeing Graton's seven foot long spear and smiling mischievously he winked at the elf who then smiled in understanding and added, “Poor Jvar. He knows not what the spear looks like or what powers it wields. Yes, friend Galen, we may finish both quests yet!”
Sometime later, having traveled throughout most of the catacombs’ second level the companions now four had finally located the spear of Bailick. Goblins roamed in abundance throughout the tunnels. Several times the group crossed paths with wandering bands of the small rubbery creatures. Sevele and Graton had fervently attacked the vile cave dwellers for goblins were known to be mortal enemies of the elves and their kin. Graton often recited elven battle poems as he slew one after the other. Sevele merely took most of her kills by daggers thrown through the throat and eyes. Grim and disturbing as her methods were Darkon could only admire her efficiency. Galen was so swept up in his own bloodletting he never truly took notice. Little would distract him from goblin killing.
Soon they all took positions around an area of four tunnels. Each tunnel crossed in a manner to make a square. Two humanoid creatures guarded a door that led into that square. Both were near seven feet in height and were hugely proportioned. Their bodies were covered in a grimy, matted brown fur. Their faces resembled humans but were accentuated by almost canine, protruding muzzles. They reeked of sweat and rotting food, as did the area they’d claimed as their own. Four small rooms were in the outer walls surrounding the hundred feet deep and fifty foot wide square chamber.
Sevele whispered a phrase of magic into her cupped hands and before the eyes of her companions she began to fade and blend with her surroundings.
She again whispered but this time to her friends, “Await my return.”
Moments later Darkon felt a gentle hand upon his arm and almost let out a startled yelp. With the touch Sevele phased back into view crouched next to him. The spear, she reported, was in none of these chambers. As bad luck would have it the spear was in the main room past two guards and among the community of these savage creatures. Graton explained that they were called the Bealrotti. They would eat anything they met so crossing them was very risky. Their lack of discipline was the foursome’s best advantage, as long as they could quietly dispose of the two guards.
To do so Darkon would, from one tunnel, attract their attention while from another Sevele and Graton would creep toward them, Graton using the magic of his fey cloak to keep him concealed. As long as one moved quietly and stood against the background one could sneak up on anything while wearing it. It was said that any non-elven race that donned such a cloak would be smothered or strangled by the its magic. Of course, no one had attempted to steal one in a very long while. Indeed the cloak did the job and the elf and half elf came within striking distance of the guards. They each plunged slim elven blades through the creature’s lungs so no sound could escape their lips. Darkon and Galen then rushed forward from the shadowed corridor and cleft the Bealrotti heads from they’re shoulders.
Sevele looked at the two men incredulously and asked in a harsh whisper, “Was that really necessary?”
Darkon held a finger to his lips as Galen placed an ear to the door. Graton untied his spear from its place on his back. Sevele was never proud of bloodshed and hoped none of her new friends were either. Only Galen seemed to relish any victory in battle no matter the extent of carnage. Sevele formed this opinion when she witnessed him slay a helpless goblin. He seemed to take personally his delivering the creature to death. As if cutting it into several indiscernible pieces would gain it speedier entry to the Abyss and he would be granted a higher place in his god’s realm the more furious his attack.
Darkon counted as Galen guessed at the numbers judging from the sounds of the room’s inhabitants. Holding up one hand to the door and one before his friend he would point in a general direction, twice for further on, and hold up the number of fingers equal to how many Bealrotti stood in one area. As Galen finished, Graton repeated his actions as if not trusting the human’s judgment. Their calculations were about the same except for one larger group of more than ten.
Graton said, “They are all asleep. They may be children or prisoners, therefore I suggest one of