The Lord of Death (The Age of Dawn Book 2) (13 page)

“That was for resisting me, now you will be punished,” Asebor bellowed, standing to his full height of at least twenty-six hands.

Malek sat back on his knees, bleeding stumps beside him, eyes trembling with rage. “Kill me! You bastard! Kill me!” he screamed.

“No. You will not get to leave this realm with such ease. You will be made Passive.”

Asebor towered over Malek, arm outstretched and hand open, white talons stark against the gray sky. The fleshy wall of teeth and claws preventing him from touching the Phoenix curved inward, encircling the Phoenix in his mind. It formed a sphere that engulfed the fluttering Phoenix, growing smaller and crushing it. Asebor growled and closed his hand.

“NO!” Malek screamed. The light of the Phoenix faded and all that remained was darkness; emptiness all around. “No, great lord, anything but that, please, no…” he moaned.

“You will live out your days as a mortal, dying when my axe falls on this land,” Asebor said. The ash fell from the sky in increasing thickness, fluttering around Asebor, but never touching him. Malek bowed his head into the thick ash and let out a gasping sob. A blue portal opened in front of Asebor and he stepped through, leaving Malek alone to bleed on the empty road.

Malek started quietly laughing in between sobs and groans. “I know who can kill you. I— I know who you will bring your ruin,” he said, slamming his bleeding stump into the ground and shrieking in pain.
The Breden boy, Walter. It all makes sense now, he is the Breden Dual Wielder. That’s how he burned the Skin Flayer and how the Black Wynch detected Bonesnapper in the village.

M
alek crisscrossed
his arms through the mare’s reigns as it plodded along a winding road south of the Tigerian Bluffs. Half of the sun slipped away in the horizon behind him, casting pink and orange along the walls of the plateaus to the north. A warm wind from the east blew dust into his face, pushing his hood back and exposing pale skin. He licked his split lips with an almost dry tongue.
Water. Need water.

“Maybe I’ll take up farming. Seems like it would be a fine profession. Maybe I’ll plant some wells” he said, dreamily.

The bandages wrapping his stumps were encased in a thick and crusty blood, desperately needing to be changed. As the horse swayed, his stumps left red stains on its brown hair. The horse snorted. Its nostrils were dry and it had thick foam on its lips.

“Farming,” he laughed, staring at the two red stains on either side of the horse. “I would kill for a sliver of the Phoenix right now… it’s not fun being a Norm,” he said to the wind.

He had to trade ten ruby marks for this horse, about five times the normal price. It’s strange how money loses all value when your body has been decimated. The farmer’s wife was kind to bandage his hands for him. If she hadn’t disinfected it with Ribwort oil, he wouldn’t have survived for very long. He probably should have asked them for a little water for the road, or perhaps a dagger to slit his wrists with. A cut throat was starting to sound awfully pleasant.

“No, I suspect if they knew who I was they wouldn’t have helped me… Hah! What is that man doing in the middle of the road? What a strange man,” he said, slurring his words.

In the distance, in the middle of the road was a man in all black with white hair and a patch over one eye. He stood like a statue in the shadow the plateaus, unblinking.

What a strange man, so strange.
“Hey there! Hey you, what are you doing?” Malek shouted.

Juzo exploded into a sprint, long coat whipping behind him.
You will be my meal tonight cripple.
His body moved with a speed that was still unfamiliar. The horse reared as Juzo drew near and he dashed to its flank, kicking up sand as he shifted his footing. Juzo seized the frail man by his robes, throwing him to the ground with ease.

The man screamed and writhed on the ground, protectively holding his hands or lack thereof. Juzo took a step back and scratched his head. “I see you’ve had a bad day. I’m sorry to tell you it’s about to get a lot worse.” Juzo licked his lips, baring vicious fangs.

“No, please stop. Do you know who I am? I am Malek, King Ezra’s advisor! I am of very high station —” A loud crack erupted from the man’s chest as Juzo’s boot easily penetrated it.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” Juzo asked.

Malek rubbed at his ribs with a bleeding stump. “I — I am one of The Wretched, one of the demon god Asebor’s generals. If you harm me, I promise you an eternity of pain,” he wheezed.

“You — why didn’t you say so earlier? Terar will be very pleased that I found you.”
So much for eating tonight, maybe just a taste, it’s been so long.

Juzo stomped on one of Malek’s stumps with his heel. Malek screamed and blood squirted through the rags around his wrist. Juzo’s red iris flared at the site of Malek’s fresh blood. Juzo dropped to his knees and grabbed Malek’s bleeding arm with both hands, sucking and licking at the wound.

Malek recoiled and swallowed hard. “You— you are a vile creature. Leave me alone,” Malek stuttered, trying to free his hand from Juzo’s iron grip.

Juzo moaned with ecstasy, painting his face with red smears.
That should be enough for now,
he thought, releasing his mouth on what remained of Malek’s wrist. He rose to his feet, and stared at the cringing man.
What have I become?
He wiped most the blood from his face on his coat sleeve, at the same time smearing some across his cheeks. An excess of saliva filled his mouth, urging him to spit.
I am an abomination, a creature of shadow. I am not a man.
His stomach heaved and he started choking. He looked at Malek’s bleeding wounds again, turning and vomiting blood and bile. He coughed for a long minute and his eyes watered from the force of it.

“Who made you?” Malek asked, crossing his arms and rocking. “That fool Terar did, didn’t he? You are his warrior, Law, the bearer of Blackout,” Malek said, mouth growing slack.

I am not Law — I — I am Juzo. Do not forget your name,
he repeated in his head. “Come,” Juzo growled, grabbing the reins of the mare and throwing Malek over its back.

Is it true? Is this man really one of The Wretched? How else could he know about Terar? The master will know what to do.

A
woman’s
voice whimpered in the distance, echoing through unseen chambers. The crack of a bullwhip against flesh sounded from somewhere nearby, each hit eliciting a grunt that resisted its torturer. Four torches burned with green flames, surrounding Terar’s obsidian throne. A rumble crashed through the caverns, sending dust and bits of stone raining to the ground around Juzo and Malek. Terar rose from his chair with the even grace of a dancer.

“You have done well,” Terar said, his eyeless mask regarding Juzo. He turned his attention to Malek, who kneeled in front of Juzo. “I asked you for another child, but… this one will do for now.”

Uglyfuck, I would have never brought you a child. You would have had to kill me first.

“You will release me, Terar. Asebor will not like to hear of this. He —”

“I know you have fallen out of favor due to your failures in Midgaard. You are nothing, you are my pet,” Terar hissed, smashing his serpent staff upon the stone floor.

“I have connections, I can be of use to you,” Malek said, shoulders sagging, dry voice rasping.

“I have just the idea, you will be Law’s minion,” Terar returned to his throne, leather sarong waving. “Law,” Terar gestured with his staff. “You may feed upon him.”

Juzo circled around Malek and stopped when he was facing him. Juzo looked down at Malek for what felt like an eternity. The man’s eyes pleaded for mercy and his lips formed an ugly frown.
Feed. Feeding again. Eat the blood of man. What choice do I have but to obey the master? Without human blood, my strength wanes. I’m slower, weaker, no longer able to heal from wounds. I need it.

Juzo fought the tears that wanted to emerge and swam in the hate he felt for his impulses. He fought the rage he had to suppress from boiling from his lungs. He closed his hands into tight fists and fell upon Malek, sinking his sharpened teeth into his neck. The blood felt incredibly warm and soothing as it rolled down his throat. He wanted to wretch again at his body’s reaction, at the deep satisfaction he felt.
I have to make him happy so he doesn’t hurt me again.

While Juzo drank he felt Malek’s heart rate drop and knew that it was time to stop. The blood no longer hurtled into his mouth and became a slow trickle. He pulled away from the man’s neck and inhaled sharply, filling his lungs with air.
I am a monster.
He breathed deeply, forcing down the vomit. Malek groaned, his eyes closed and pressed his mangled wrist to his neck.
How is this man still alive?

“Good, in a few hours he will be under your control. You will feel his emotions, thoughts, and desires. He will be yours to command.” Terar said, hands motionless on his knees. The white skin of his bare torso was bright against the dark throne. He walked to the corner of the room and opened a long, dark box. When the box cracked open, ethereal voices penetrated Juzo’s mind like nails.
I return, we feed, we destroy, we are war, I am chaos.
Terar lifted the jet black sword, Blackout, from the chest and presented it to Juzo.

“Law, you have earned your weapon. You will be my right hand, my hand of war. I have granted you near immortality, now I grant you with the ability to consume the souls of man,” Terar said.

I am your body, Blackout. My friend, how long I have missed you.
Juzo thought, as his fingers reached for the humming blade. It felt like hours before his hands touched its icy haft. When his hands wrapped around Blackout’s haft it felt as natural as an appendage.

You are me and I am you
, the sword whispered.
We are one.
Kill. Murder the master.
We must eat.
Juzo shifted his gaze from the sword to Terar. The souls trapped within the sword screeched in his head for an instant. Juzo reflexively squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, pushing their cries for release from his mind.

Terar cocked his head at Juzo. “Do you dare? Do not forget your place, Law. I feel your heart,” he drawled.

Juzo dropped his sword arm to his side, letting it hang loosely.
Yes, do it,
the sword urged. Juzo’s nostrils flared and the muscles around his throat tightened. He took a deep breath as a gust whistled through the cavern, brushing his white hair across his face.
I am Law. I cannot fight the master or he’ll hurt me very badly.

Kill, no more master!
The sword hissed.

“Are you not listening to me?” Terar roared.
Kneel boy,
Terar’s voice said, clashing with the sword’s whispers in his mind. The sword’s whispers grew more powerful and pushed Terar’s voice out entirely. Terar shuddered and took a step back.

“What is this?” Terar hissed.

Freedom. Strength. We are power
, Blackout boomed. Something Juzo hadn’t felt in months suddenly returned. The force of willpower, the freedom to decide filled him with vigor. Juzo’s eye vibrated as he stared at Terar. Terar’s voice bellowed in the background of his mind, like a voice in crowded park. Juzo raised Blackout to strike and it felt like he was moving through tar on the downswing.

“You have grown bold. You will have to be punished,” Terar said. The eyes of his cobra staff glowed with a brilliant green. Spines sprung into Juzo’s skin and laced his body with pain. Small trickles of blood sprung from the thousands of tiny needles he had come to know so well. Juzo grimaced and used all of his strength to force the blade upon Terar, but it would not move.

Blackout
, Juzo thought.
Help me.

Juzo’s arm suddenly fell in a vicious down strike, almost throwing his shoulder out of the socket if not for his blood enhanced strength. The blade cut cleanly through Terar’s arm, passing through bone with ease. The rest of Terar’s arm and the staff it clutched fell to the ground, clattering. Terar screamed, pointing at Juzo with his other hand. From Terar’s palm a small slit opened and the head of a cobra emerged from it, hissing, with fangs dripping with yellow liquid.

Juzo didn’t have to think about what to do next. His next strike severed Terar’s other hand, sending both the snake and hand across the room. Terar stumbled back and yelled “Guards!” Juzo heard doors slam open and footsteps running from the depths.

“It’s too late for you, master. You were a fool to return this to me,” Juzo said quietly.

“Law—”

“I
am
Juzo!” he screamed.

He jabbed the point of Blackout into where he guessed Terar’s eye would be and then used the tip of the sword the tear his mask free. Terar yelled, whipping his head aside as a jet of blood shot from his face. Terar’s face was a twisted mass of scarred skin. His face had two pits of flesh where eyes should be, a sideways mouth, and the flat nose of a pig. It was almost comical, no wonder he wore the mask. Terar stumbled onto his back in what felt like slow motion as the heavy door behind Juzo swung open.

Six heavily muscled men wearing black masks like Terar’s poured into the throne room, circling him and brandishing weapons.
Too many,
he thought. He dove between two of them, heading towards the hall, and falling into a forward roll. As Juzo came out of the roll, he swung Blackout at his flank, chopping through the back of the knee of one of the men. The blade tore through tendon and muscle, spraying blood on the wall. The man fell with a shriek and Juzo barely dodged in time to avoid the smash of a spiked mace.

“You hurt the master!” A man with a mace said, raising the weapon over head with both hands. Blackout pulled against his hand, cutting sideways across the man’s exposed abdomen, spilling his organs, and briefly glowing with a white light. He dropped the mace and his hands started furiously working at the wound, trying to stuff his intestines back where they belonged.

Two other Taskmaster’s barreled over the disemboweled man, one stepping on his head. Juzo leaped back a few paces, falling into a defensive stance with Blackout positioned behind him near his hip, gripped with both hands.