“I do,” she purred. “Come closer. I have it right here.”
Liam slowly inched his way toward her. “Are you quite well? You sound strange.”
“Oh, I am perfectly well, I assure you.” She jangled the bag of coins in front of her. As Liam reached out for them, Oriana stepped into the light. Liam cried out in fright, jerking his hand away.
“Wh-what are you?” he stammered, backing away from her toward the door behind him, toward his only means of escape.
She graced him with a menacing smile, displaying her full set of masterful fangs. “Death,” she hissed, and then pounced.
4
Garren
30th day of the Tenth Month, 1774
Garren braced himself for impact as both he and the demon plummeted off the boulder. The fall gave him barely enough time to snatch the dagger from his boot. Just before they crashed to the forest floor, he sliced. The demon snarled as the blade pierced its inky black flesh. Grotesque blood dripped from the wound, a grayish tan color like that of hot porridge. Garren landed on top of the creature and quickly rolled to the side, shooting up into a fighting stance and pulling a sword free from his back in the same movement. The demon growled, pushing itself up to its full height. Garren’s eyes widened. This demon was at least twice his height, if not more. It was a terrifyingly ugly beast, unlike the one he had faced all those years ago in his father’s smithy.
Its black, serpentine skin glistened in the dying sun’s rays. Purple liquid dripped from its fangs and claws. Large, razor-like fins arched along its back, and two massive horns sprouted from either side of its head. Its long, feline snout huffed as it prepared to charge Garren once again. It clicked its claws together as it bent lower, digging hooved feet into the solid earth. Garren watched, assessing its stance.
The beast charged headfirst, horns poised to spear him against the boulder, but just before it reached him, Garren spun to the left, bringing his long sword with him and jabbing upward into the beast’s middle. But before his weapon connected with the creature, an enormous black shape whipped toward him—the demon had a tail. It collided with Garren and sent him flying through the air and crashing into a tree ten feet away.
“You Gods damned fiend!” Garren roared. “That fucking hurt!” It growled in response, kicking back its hoofed feet and baring its fangs like a bull preparing for another charge.
The demon took off once more, charging with its horns angled straight for Garren at the base of the tree. Garren repeated his stance, rolling to the left just before the demon reached him. It rammed into the tree, one horn driving through to the other side, and roared as it attempted to yank itself free. Its long, reptilian tail whipped about in desperation. Garren leapt up, dodging the flailing tail, and thrust his sword into the demon’s neck. It shrieked in pain as Garren twisted the blade before pulling it free. With one final tortured screech, the creature collapsed in front of him.
Garren wiped his blade on the forest floor, painting the grass with the demon’s putrid blood. It smelled of sulfur and ash, like most other demons, though the color of the blood was always a surprise.
The first demon he ever killed had blood the color of the turquoise seas found along the southern coast of his home, Cirus. While the second one’s blood had matched his blade so perfectly, he wouldn't have even known he cut the creature if it hadn't been dripping off the tip of his sword to form a puddle of liquified silver beside him.
It was peculiar, but Garren had never encountered the same type of demon twice. Each was its own horror, making it increasingly difficult to fight them. It was a matter of figuring out their strengths and weaknesses on the spot. But Garren had always emerged victorious. He had a keen ability to read the creatures’ movements, to know their plan before they even began their attack. Every battle had always seemed to play in his favor. He didn’t know how he was able to do it, but it was as if he could feel the very essence of the demons through the earth. A vibration that ebbed and flowed, alerting him to when and where they would strike.
This one had initially seemed to be a big dumb brute but had turned out to be cleverer than expected. He hadn’t even felt its approach behind him. He would have assumed its sheer size would have shaken the ground or snapped branches as it approached. Had he been too lost in thought? This creature was indeed colossal, yet it wasn’t the largest demon Garren had ever faced.
At only fourteen, he had taken up a spot on a trading ship, hoping to see more of the world around him. He loved the sea. Those had been some of the best days of his life.
At that point, he hadn’t seen a demon in years, not since traveling to the Mines of Durial with his father. He had not been prepared for what he faced in those mines then, and he most certainly had not been prepared for the demon that met him on the sea.
They had been trading on the western coast of the Isle of Thray, their ship, the Gilded Rose, anchored out in the Sparkling Sea while the small boats ventured inland to trade their wares. Garren, being a boatswain, stayed on board the vessel when they were anchored for trade.
He had been on the main deck, looking over the port side of the Gilded Rose, when a shadow passed beneath the surface of the water and moved under the ship. The next thing he knew, the ship rocked hard to the left, as if something had rammed into it at full speed. The water drew closer as the vessel tipped on its side, and Garren was thrust into the crystal-clear waves as the Gilded Rose capsized.
He swam up through the sun-warmed sea, breaking through the surface, treading water as he looked out at the overturned ship and what he saw gave him nightmares to this day. A slimy-skinned creature had wrapped itself around the capsized vessel, coiling like a snake around its prey, squeezing until finally the entire ship gave out, splintering into pieces.
Debris littered the ocean, men flailed, grabbing onto floating pieces of the ship. But Garren wasn’t worried about staying afloat. He was a deft swimmer who was always able to hold his breath for far longer than any of his friends growing up. He plunged under the surface, saltwater stinging his eyes, and searched for the creature.
He caught glimpses of shimmering white scales along a long, slim body. Bright yellow fins lined its sides in multiple rows, black and sharp at the tips like daggers. It resembled a giant water millipede.
The beast had been swift, slithering through the ocean with fluid ease. Garren followed it as best he could to get a full view of the water-like insect, and then, when it finally turned toward him, what he saw had him backing away, scrambling to swim as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
Four beady black eyes bore into him, its mouth a circle of layered sharp teeth spiraling down its throat, ready to shred whatever it engulfed. Jutting forth from its torturous mouth of death were four bug-like pincers prepared to pull its prey into the tunnel of endless fangs.
That water beast had been fearsome indeed, but exceedingly dumb. He had led it toward the wrecked ship, swimming for the mainmast which had wedged itself solidly between two enormous rocks on the ocean’s floor. It was as if the rocks were caught in a joust, holding out the mast like a lance ready to spear its foe.
Garren had swum for the mast, and the water millipede darted after him at breakneck speed. Garren grabbed onto the mast with both hands, pulling his way down its length until he was at the fractured base on the seafloor. The creature had been traveling so fast, its mouth wide, ready to swallow him whole, that it swam directly into the ship’s mast, impaling itself all the way through. Orange liquid spewed forth, bubbling as it rose to the surface of the turquoise water, and its body went limp. A perfect example of a big, dumb brute. He hoped to never come across a beast larger than that sea demon. He still broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.
Garren shook the memories aside as he turned to leave the forest, but as he took a step, he felt a sudden sharp pain. Shit. The wretched creature had sliced his side. As the adrenaline melted away, red blood welled, spilling down his torso onto his trousers. His wounds healed quicker than most, but this gash was deeper and larger. Upon closer examination, he could quite literally see the unmistakable white of a rib bone peeking through the ripped flesh. It might actually require some stitching to help it along.
Garren observed his surroundings. The forest had grown preternaturally dark; he could barely see through its girth to where the Daylight road was. He looked up, but the foliage of the trees blocked his view of the darkening sky. Their branches fanned out like a shield above him, giving him a strange, unsettling feeling that they had grown that way to keep something in rather than out. He pushed the dark thought from his mind.
