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

a goodly wizard accompanied by such a creature even though Par-Than said it was common among his kind. Thus he suspected the true nature of this vile imp was evil incarnate and instinctively drew his blade.
The ring, all recognized, as the one Sevele had called forth from Merleptus’ elder scroll. They had forgotten all about it and what its power was. Strangely they were fortunate this annoying thing came along when it did.
Pointing his sword tip at the small servant demon Galen snarled, “Hand it over imp or feel my blade!”
“Gneeesh! No need ta get all miffed! Here ya go!” Sniffaro tossed the ring casually to the prince who snatched it out of the air with his free hand.
Then the imp continued his rehearsed lines, “No needs ta thank me, my master sent me to remind youse of da rings power, so I did.”
Galen was sure he should just slay the pest, its whining manner and arrogant tone made his skin tremor with irritation. Visibly angry he was sorely challenged to keep his emotions in check to keep from splitting the creature in two. The Imp seemed to see this and wisely hovered away from the swordsman but still he wasn’t going to leave yet. Thanks to Merleptus he had several things yet to accomplish.
After the men affirmed it was indeed the ring Sevele had worn, Darkon placed it on his finger and Galen spat toward the imp.
Speaking the required words, “Take us home.” Darkon evoked the magical portal that would lead back to Havoctown.
One after the other they entered the swirling red portal, first Darkon and finally at the last moment, Sniffaro. The journey was again instantaneous and they found themselves looking at home once again.
All their thoughts of finally returning home left them though as they realized it was their very own recently built house they now witnessed burning to the ground. Standing nearby were several of the small folk Sevele had befriended. All were mournfully crying and chanting as they stared at the flames and Galen’s heart felt suddenly like lead. He remembered he had asked Rena to take care of the house while he was away and these were her people. He went into a full sprint toward the burning house, despair threatening to rip his heart from his chest. The Che’burr saw him coming but did not move, they knew who the killer was and it was not he. They understood that the human male had been introduced to Rena but could not have known of her love for him nor his own enchantment with her. They were then even more touched when this proud and strong warrior broke into tears at their dear Rena’s death.
Galen fell to his knees next to the broken and burned body of his frail and tender love. He thought the well spring of tears had been run dry by the mourning of Sevele but the pain of seeing Rena battered so gave way to a torrent of new tears that fell upon her soot covered face revealing in spots her delicate skin. He thought of the short time he had spent with her and how he would never be able to show her his homeland or share his dreams with her. He wiped the soot from her face, kissed her for the final time and turned away as the tearful Che’burr moved to gather the body.
Graton and Darkon were stunned. Who would have done this? Was it the demon lord Darkon had hacked in two? Surely if the demon wasn’t dead it wasn’t in any shape to retaliate in such a manner and Graton knew from his arcane studies that creatures of the lower planes mostly could not pass into the earthly realm unless summoned by powerful magic. Then who could it have been?
After a short time two of the small ones delicately approached the pair of warriors who bore Sevele’s body. They were male and fair skinned, sandy blond haired and bore short cudgels.
“You there, its all your fault our sister is dead! How dare you stand here as if you knew our Rena!”
Darkon knew their pain well so did not blame them for their anger. “How is it I am to blame small one?” He gently replied.
The greatly upset Che’burr was gesturing strongly with his small but strong hands as he talked. His younger brother beside him was agreeing with his every word with a hearty nod.
“Not just you but all of you who lived there.” He pointed at the burning home, “Rena was lured in by your human tricks and now she is gone!”
The words stung the man and elf evenly for they felt responsible in various ways for this death and the death of Sevele. Silently they pledged someone was going to pay for all of this pain and wrong doing though now they must still find out who was responsible.
Darkon clenched his fist before the distraught brothers and asked, “Who, small one, who did this thing? Tell us so we may bring you their heads!”
At that the two accusers exchanged frightened glances. They had seen who had done it but could not find words to describe the thing that terrified them so.
“We were waiting outside the house for we knew Rena was hiding inside. From the west came a lone armored human. He threatened us and promised to kill us if we did not tell him exactly whom the house belonged to. He rode off saying that if we did not leave we would be killed by his king when they returned.”
The two brothers exchanged fearful looks and the youngest continued.
“Then a large group of riders came from the south and circled the building. It was when their leader dismounted and approached us that we were so stricken with an unreasonable fear that we could not speak or move. He spoke to us, saying we would bear witness to the act that would bring him final victory.” Both small ones shivered at the memory of the cold, cruel voice. “He entered the house and we could only run away when we heard Rena scream. We could not even turn around to aid our poor sister!”
The younger brother’s knees trembled and he said in a wavering voice, “Please do not make us describe this man, for we cannot! We only recall the banner his men did fly.”
Darkon was in deep concentration as the two Che’burr spoke. He brushed the fore thoughts of their minds with his mental touch and coaxed forth the image of the man they spoke of. Thanks to the Che’burr’s frankness and current emotional state it was an easy enough task. The man their thoughts revealed was no one he had ever seen though he acknowledged the man did look formidable. When the smallest brother described the red banner, a black fist clenching a broad sword’s blade, Darkon was just noticing that Galen had moved into hearing distance.
The prince’s fists clenched and he angrily said, “I know that banner, though I never thought I’d be dealing with it in my lifetime. It is the banner of an outlying barony that has opposed the throne of my father’s kingdom for many generations.”
Darkon was very surprised. He had been sure when they first saw the burning house that someone had come for him. Knowing Galen would wish it, he took the image he had taken from the small ones mind and sent it along the path of the mindflow to the princes’ thoughts.
“This is the man who frightened them so?” Galen asked incredulously.
His eyes widened with utter rage and he gripped his sword’s pommel tightly. He knew of this man, he had been present when the man’s father, Satarnafoon, was banished from the earthly realm by the joined power of Genossia’s wizards. His name was Satar and Galen had heard him pledge the destruction of the royal family as he was dragged from the royal courts that fateful day. For a short moment he met his gaze as he was dragged away. He recalled the shiver of fear he felt at that moment and knew now that Satarnafoon had not left his son unprepared. Satarnafoon was reputedly one of the greatest necromancers to have ever lived. Satarnafoon had surely placed enchantment upon enchantment on Satar, ensuring his power to rule if he, the father, failed in his machinations.
Now it seemed Satar was making his move. He had come seeking Galen but instead found the innocent Rena. Satar should have known Galen would have no choice but to hunt him down. Surely he expected that. He had something Satar would not expect though, a Demonslayer and an elf of Ara’moor standing by his side.
“I must hunt this man back to Genossia. He will not go unpunished as long as I breathe. I can only ask that you both would aid me but know that I will bear no resentment if you do not wish to.” Galen said
Darkon and Graton each raised an eyebrow toward Galen and the Griffon lord said, “Nothing could stop me from joining you, Galen, but I also propose that before we leave we attempt to contact Merleptus. For I think the mage has much to answer for.”
Galen agreed, as did Darkon, so after a tense few minutes of voicing their regrets the trio began to walk toward not so distant Ara’moor. There they would lay Sevele to rest and Graton would use his spells to hopefully find Merleptus. Behind them they heard the Che’burr weeping and Rena’s father crying out to Galen.
He said, “You bring back the head of the man who did this and avenge her death, as well as that of the fearie friend you now bear! If you do not there will be nowhere you can hide from the fey folk! So swear the Che’burr!”

^ ^ ^

Merleptus watched all of this from his hidden tower and was intrigued. He paid little attention to the kingdom of Genossia for life there was so orderly and outright boring. There was much reason to his mind that Galen left the place behind to find adventure elsewhere. The mage had his imp servant follow the three men and prepared the creature for what was to come. He knew it would be risky to show himself too closely to the three grieving warriors so the imp would serve as a liaison while the mage gained as much information about Galen’s family and foes as possible. So when the time came to regain their trust he would do so with open assistance.
Indeed all was working well for the mage now. Not only had he gained the scepter but also he would be regaining the swords of a very gifted trio. Maybe, with enough scrying, he could even find his purposes to intertwine with theirs. Surely the land of Genossia held some secret treasure that he could exploit. Yes, such an aged kingdom surely had something to hide. Who better than he to discover what it was? The mage then also decided to give the trio the coins he had promised them. He would call it compensatory fees for a comrade lost along the way.
A subtle gesture and the image changed to that of the skulking Sniffaro who sat perched on a tree limb nearby the mage’s subjects of interest. With a whisper Merleptus instructed the imp and gave it a keyword. Keywords were often given so servants could readily contact their