The Slayarians - Book One, JM Barnes [best books for 7th graders txt] 📗

more inches every year. Yet even though one would think the original builders must have been either dumb or blind the truth was its placement in the swamp was intentional.
Merleptus’ own teacher had planned it so that eventually it would be undetectable from above the ground. The old master had cast mighty spells that kept the inside of the tower whole and dry, untouched by the invasive bog. After being killed by his prize student, Merleptus, the tower retained its magic and would last presumably throughout time.
At the bottommost level of the tower, Merleptus’ gaze was transfixed to the scrying pool he spent so much time over. He had tried to send a warning message to Sevele to remind her of the ring’s ability to take her and her friends out of the Abyss. Now he understood that she was frozen in terror and couldn’t break the spell to activate the ring. Whether she understood his message or not, he could not know.
Merleptus had seen many horrible things in his three centuries of life and was mostly numb to grief and despair. Today though, for some reason he did not wholly understand, he was truly aghast at what had occurred. A wave of tears struck him as he witnessed Darkon's primal mourning and the effects it had on his two remaining comrades. If anyone was responsible the mage knew it was himself, yet he could tell that the three friends were bearing the brunt of the guilt. For some reason he could not turn away from the pool as he had done so many times before. He’d known that this group had much promise and were destined for great accomplishments. He’d also known that they were young and mostly inexperienced. Especially when dealing with demon kind and the Abyss. The mage had sent Sevele to her doom as he had many others but this time the regret was catching up with him. But what was he to do?
Surely he could not approach the three warriors now for they might attack him at first sight. Maybe, he thought, if he were to help bring relief and some form of comfort to them they would take their loss easier than they were. Looking at the powerful scepter he had just acquired, conflicting emotions battled for control within his chest. Why should he care? Why should he help them now after he had already completed the task? Did they not have the ring, which would take them home? He did realize that the men were so grief stricken they had probably forgotten the ring. Then, breaking the his reverie, a most disconcerting sound attracted his angry attention.
“Gnneeeaaghh!” The Imp had finally shown itself.
“How touching,” It squeaked, “Youse woulda thought a mighty wizard likes yerself would ave better tings ta do dan moon over some puny peoples.”
The creature hovered over the table where sat the scepter and wiped its dripping, grapefruit sized nose. How the creature could fly with such an imbalance on one end was beyond even Merleptus’ understanding.
Yet his only concern was how to capture the vile creature and either put it to good use or dispose of it. Merleptus reached into a small pouch at his belt and felt for the turquoise crystal stone he used to protect himself from poison. He was able to pinpoint it by touch alone for each stone was scored deeply with a mystic symbol.
Once found he palmed it he spoke threateningly to the annoying creature. “I will give you a choice, pest. You will either serve me unquestioningly or you will perish, slowly.”
The imp called Sniffaro cocked its head sideways and considered the offer.
Shrugging its tiny shoulders it said, “As if I have any choice in da matta.”
Slowly it moved through the damp air of the scrying chamber and carefully perched atop the mage’s outstretched arm. Then just as the mage seemed to relax, the imp took its chance and impaled its venomous tail into the back of his neck. Merleptus could not help but yell out in pain for though the creature’s poison was ineffective its tiny barb had penetrated deep through his flesh. The mage grabbed the imp then and threw it upon the stone floor. The creature was expecting such a move and barely hit the ground as it rose in flight. Yet it had not expected the wizard’s immunity to poison so was not ready when it was grabbed a second time.
Now Merleptus barely controlled his rage and very nearly slew the creature. Again his logical mind demanded the creature could be useful so he allowed it to live.
“Now, pest, you understand your tricks are useless against me. No poison may harm my person nor can anything else for that matter. I am deserving of your servitude and I will allow you another chance. Now I have a very important mission for you to complete.”
He then explained his wishes to Sniffaro and the imp no longer had any thoughts of treason or deception. This master was like any he had known in the Abyss, unstoppable and unbending. The imp decided then that he would serve this mage as best he could, for away from the Abyss his fate was no longer certain. If he was slain away from his home he would be condemned to a century of imprisonment in the dreaded void. Worse he would be taken out of the evolving spiral that would eventually make a full demon out of him and he was so near the ascension now that he would do anything to stay alive.
Indeed the Imp would serve Merleptus well, at least until a stronger master demanded his service, “Gneeeeeaghck!”


CHAPTER 12
HOMECOMING


Galen didn’t know how long they stood mourning the loss of the most lovely and bravest woman there must have ever been. Galen knew that if Darkon hadn't caught her eye first he would have been obsessed with gaining her favor himself. She had been a great friend to all of them and had proven herself the most resourceful among their party. He knew as well that he could never repay her for arranging the meeting between him and Rena. Somehow Sevele knew who would be perfect for him and Rena indeed was what he had needed. He thought of how he would feel if anything ever happened to her and sympathized with Darkon even more. Sevele was, by her choice an adventurer so had been treated as an equal among them. Her death had been unavoidable.
Though Galen was greatly ashamed by the reaction he exhibited when the demon lord appeared he now knew that Darkon was unaffected only because he was a Demonslayer. Regardless of blame Sevele was gone now and none of them knew of any magic that could bring back the dead. Still Darkon demanded they take her remains back to the woods of Ara’moor, provided they could get home themselves.
They left the spot where the battle occurred and retraced their steps hoping the portal that brought them there was still standing. When they arrived back at the location the portal was gone. They rested for a short time upon the cold and unforgiving stone floor, each man leaving the other alone with their thoughts.
Gazing upward and leaping to his feet Graton suddenly exclaimed, “Look at the ceiling, something is coming down!”
The men stood and watched in awe as a radiant light appeared from above. Following its glowing nimbus was a magnificent godly being. Its presence was accentuated by what sounded like a hundred swarms of bees playing a joyous melody. Standing nearly seven feet tall was a womanly spirit aglow with such beauty it was almost unbearable for the three men to gaze upon her. Not only did the figure radiate joy and energy, she also emanated godly power.
When she spoke it was as if all the elegant and loving creatures in the world were her voice, “Silvanus enquesta consolian mortalis.”
All three men, who only hours ago were battling demons, dropped flat on their backs, in this way they knew they showed their willingness to die by her hand. With their backs arced and their bellies exposed they even invited the sweet bliss the figure’s gaze seemed to promise. Instead she ignored the three prostrate men and looked to the dead body that lay before them. She knelt by Sevele’s form, still so lovely in death, and brushed the hair from her near perfect face. She whispered softly to Sevele and held a hand above her still heart. Quietly at first the messenger of the gods began to sing a tune. Soft and melodic yet sad and haunting the three warriors were themselves lulled into a dreamlike state. Then slowly an intangible spirit arose from the torn body and Sevele’s soul stood before them all. Even through the bliss Darkon wept for his loss.
Within his mind and through his mindflow he begged her not to leave him but was careful not to speak out loud for fear of offending the god’s messenger. The speaker for Silvanus had come to take Sevele’s spirit home where the nature god bathed his followers in paradise. Still Darkon wept.
Then Sevele smiled down at him as she slowly lifted toward the ceiling and said, “Darkon, dear heart, I love you so. I will await your arrival at the edge of the next plane and I will accompany you’re speaker when she comes to take you home.”
At that she and her heavenly speaker rose through the ceiling and disappeared from sight.
All three men were too stricken with awe to speak and could only rise to their knees. When they stood, all were again in tears, not for their loss but this time for the remorse they felt because they weren’t joining the speaker themselves. How they yearned to be with their gods in paradise and they thought of how easy it would be to allow oneself to be careless and perish so the journey would be possible. Yet only several seconds later they realized what they were thinking and returned fully back to the mind set that defined a mortal. Each man turned from the spot with a smile upon his face.
They had been witnesses to the final answer to everyone’s questions. There was a better place for the faithful. Sevele was merely the first of them to go there and they realized how wonderful that was for her. Looking down to her body they knew now that it was but an empty shell that still must be protected from any demonic tampering. Darkon no longer used such delicate care with her remains for he knew Sevele was truly gone. He threw the husk over his shoulder in preparation to journey onward and that was when a most peculiar sound drew their attention.
“Gneeeeagh!” A small winged demon stood on the stone floor wiping its nose on its arm. In one of its diminutive hands it held and displayed a ring. “Hey dere, ahh, was one of yous guys missin’ dis ere ring? Cause’ if not I knows a fence in Tarterus…” It said.
Galen had seen a creature much like this one at the side of his father’s wizard, Par-Than, so he knew it must have some master ordering its actions. Unlike his father Galen never trusted Par-Than, for as a boy he witnessed the mage participate in unscrupulous dealings. He had never seen