Slayer
Bailey Siegel
Copyright © 2014
Bay Press Publications
Contents
PROLOGUE: IN SEARCH OF AN OGNOK
“FOR MY DEAD FAMILY!”
EVIL TALES
A BROTHERLY TALK
WAITING...AT THE CAFE
PLAYING FOR THE SWORD
GAME TWO
WINNER OF THE INHERITANCE
THE CEREMONY
POLICE
THE START OF THE JOURNEY
LAKE DALFNOK
VALAO AND EJARSHӦH
HEIRG
NAME THE WAND
SATYM
A SWORD’S EYE VIEW
TRAINER AND TRAINEST
SVEWE PALSOA
RIDER AGAINST OGNOK
AREK VS AREK
ULBALLS ARE THE FISHY ONES
ROYAL GUEST
RAGING ARMY
PURSUIT
DESTINY
THE DEFENSE OF THE DEATH OF A DRAGON
SOARING
AN UNDERWATER DUEL
LOGICAL ANSWERS
WISHING FOR MORE DREAMS
YOUTREN AND GHUAR: THE HEROIC COMEBACK
A BATLLE ON LAND, A BATTLE IN WATER
HUNTING THE PRESIDENT
THE DEFENSE OF THE DEATH OF A MAGICAL ALIEN PRESIDENT
AN UNTRAINED WIZARD USING MAGIC
RIDERS CAN SUCCEED
AMNESIA
ANSWERS
A DECLINED DEAL
THE LORD OF THE PRISON
SORE WINGS AFTER LONG DAYS OF FLIGHT
THE FIGHT WITH GALORAT
THE ENEMY’S REINFORCEMENTS
KNOCKING ON DEATH’S DOOR
INSIDE DEATH’S KINGDOM
ARQUE
MTHANL
LONG TIME, NO SEE
BRINGING BACK HISTORY
THE DARK DESTROYERS
LEADING A NEW ARMY
TRAINING THE NEWCOMERS
DRAGONS TO SAVE
SPARRING
SPIES AND MORE TRAINING
DISCOVERY
THE GOLDSTONE
INTRUDER ON DESTVILLE
NEARLY DEAD
TRAGEDY
THE FINAL PREPARATION DAY
THE FIRST HOURS OF COMBAT
GOLEMS
GREETING THE ATTACKERS
DEFEAT
THE LOST SURVIVOR
THE NIGHT HUNT
THE FINAL SEARCH
TRACKING THE FUGITIVE
UNDER THE BANDANA
This book is dedicated to my father, who helped me complete the novel in time for its deadline.
PROLOGUE: IN SEARCH OF AN OGNOK
Morchad sat in his throne, staring out over the mountains. His comrades were behind him, outside of his quarters training for the upcoming battle with the Dark Destroyers that would destroy their army’s entire popularity. But what Morchad really needed was an Ognok, which he did not have.
“Ognok!” he bellowed, searching his entire quarters for a spell that could create an Ognok. “Ognok!” he yelled again, with still no answer.
Then he found a potion inside one of his cupboards on the back wall behind his throne. He grabbed it and grinned. He had found an Ognok.
He threw it in his mixing sphere, letting it settle for the amount of time neededtwo days.
Once the two days were finished, he removed the body from the sphere and placed it on a bed. He then placed a sword in the Ognok’s hand yelled, “Ognok, I name thee Heirg!”
The Ognok stood up on hearing his name and looked at his master obediently, waiting for an order.
“Go find the Hero,” said Morchad. “Go find him and kill him. Kill his dragon if he already has one.”
The Ognok nodded his head and trotted off in pursuit of Thetra Eouhjasson, the Hope and Hero for the Dark Destroyers.
“This will not work,” muttered Morchad to himself. “I created the weakest, most untalented Ognok in the history of Kiolerasdarque.” Morchad started pacing about his quarters.
He walked over to his cupboard again, and after searching it for an hour, found something.
It was a square cube, about one foot cubed. Morchad stared at it and read the label: GOLEMS.
Morchad gasped and smiled. He had long ago created golems, about two thousand years back, and now he had the opportunity to re-create them once more.
He threw the box in his mixing sphere and remembered that golems took ages to create, about a year.
I must make all of them before the Rider realizes he must save the Dark Destroyers.
Morchad waited, standing there impatiently for a day, and then he decided his only hope was to wait. He then fell asleep and waited until morning to check on the golems’ progress.
But the next morning brought with it no new news, and he grew so impatient that he slapped his throne, knocking it over with a crash.
Five minutes later, after his tantrum was over, he picked the throne up and discovered he had dented the corner.
“Arrrrrgggggh!” he yelled, and threw his throne at the wall. “I shall kill every last soldier of the Dark Destroyers. I swear.”
“FOR MY DEAD FAMILY!”
Thetra sat on his couch, looking out the window. He knew his brother Arek was upstairs, his mother Uvorc was in her room she shared with her husband Eouhja, who was as well in their room.
He heard Arek shout for him to go play a game with him, but he did not respond. His family was about to travel from their home in Toage to Wecvavrrn, which was about seventy leagues away. They would leave in about three hours.
He saw their neighbor hunters going for their daily hunt at noon. He saw them kill a deer. One shot a bird. Both of the animals killed by the hunters were most likely going to be eaten that night.
He heard a knock on the front door, which he wasn’t expecting. His mother always told him and Arek never to open the door, it might be a stranger.
And that was exactly who it was: a stranger.
He asked if Arek or Thetra were in the house, and Thetra stayed still behind in the family room. He walked around and got behind the couch, in case the stranger should walk into the family room. Then he carefully crept to his room, still in earshot.
“Who are you?” asked his mother.
The stranger grunted. “I asked you a question first, ma’am.”
“Not home. Now who are you?”
He heard silence. Then a scream. His mother’s scream. He dared not go out. He heard his father rushing into the room, and then Thetra heard his father’s scream of agony and pain.
He saw Arek come down the stairs, but Thetra pulled him aside.
“What happened?” whispered Arek.
“No clue. But let’s stay here in hiding.”
Then they both saw the stranger leave out the window, and they ran to their murdered parents.
“Mother! Father!” cried Thetra. “What happened?”
“The sword...” murmured Eouhja. “It stabbed...us.”
“What sword? The stranger’s? We can go hunt them and kill them. We could track your killers.”
“Do not mourn us,” said Uvorc. “We will live this day.”
“Please do. You can’t die, Mother and Father! You can’t! Let us go after them!”
“No,” said Eouhja. “Stay here. Do not go to Wecvavrrn. Stay in the protection of our house, children.”
“Yes, Father,” said Arek. “We will listen to you, but we will bury you. And you, Mother. You both deserve it.”
“So long, Arek and Thetra. You will be missed.”
Thetra hugged his mother and father, as did Arek.
So this is what it’s like to lose your mother and father, thought Thetra, feeling shame on himself.
He and Arek went to bed for the n
ight, hoping with their whole minds that it had just been a nightmare, but it hadn’t. In fact, Thetra did have a nightmare, and it was as unpleasant as the day’s events:
He was being hunted by their neighborhood hunters. He was hiding in a big log in the forest by their home.
“Kervaerrgh,” murmured the first hunter, “is that him?” He pointed at the log that Thetra was in.
“Nay, Miej. That’s just a log.”
“How about in the log? Ever thought of that, hunter?”
“You check. Only one of us in case he’s not there and he sneaks around and murders us from behind.”
“With what?A butter knife?” Miej laughed.
“Who knows? But let’s check and try to discover at least something.”
When they looked inside the log, Thetra jumped out and yelled, “For my dead family!” and started running away down the trail.
EVIL TALES
Thetra sat on his bed nine days later after he had communicated with his aunt and uncle and asked if they could come after he explained everything that had happened.
Eouhja’s sister wailed and cried. His uncle Opsiomnö said that she even ran into the wall her eyes were so full of tears. But they declined for they had their twenty-third anniversary that day.
As Thetra was getting into bed that night, he heard glass break and footsteps on the stairs.
The boys are back, he thought. He saw Arek grab a family sword in time to slay the first killer. The second charged straight at Arek with his sword in his hand, but Arek killed him as well.
Thetra picked up the sword that the second murderer had dropped. Its shiny green blade was a perfect hue. Thetra’s favorite color was green.
“I’m going to keep this sword,” announced Thetra to Arek. “SWORD, I NAME THEE SLAYER!”
Then Arek shouted with his sword raised, “SWORD, I NAME THEE STABBER!”
And with that, they started sparring for the first time.
They did this in that manner for hours, throughout the whole night. Then the wind blew a parchment into the window.
Thetra picked it up and showed Arek. “I think it is a map of our country: Kiolerasdarque.”
“Whoa!” said Arek. “Our capital is Bewaldt! I’ve always wondered what it is.”
“And now you know.”
“And now I know.”
“Brother,” said Thetra, “let us go hunting next week. We have to find meat.”
“Yes, Brother. We will leave to go hunting next week on Wednesday. And we will catch a deer! More than one! Thousands!”
And then they went to bed, even though it was almost dawn. They had stayed up all night.
The next morning they woke up, ate, and decided to go to Worgh, the storyteller’s early morning tale.
They arrived there on time for Worgh to begin. And that day he talked about the legends of Morchad.
“He was a dark one, a born murderer of souls. It is a mystery how he gets others to follow him. But alas, he has his ways.
“He was born as an Entara, the creatures hated by everyone in Kiolasdarque. But then his father, a man named Tyerronde, made Morchad a man.
“His mother, Sioth, decided to take him in their backyard and train with swords. She gave Morchad the same sword he bares now: Gonca. It has served him well throughout his years, always killing, always destroying.
“Then one night, five members of the good army killed Sioth and Tyerronde. Morchad killed his first five warriors with Gonca.
“Then he fled to the mountains. To Mt. Berr. From there he went to Thaken. It was roughly about a seventy-five mile trip. And he ran it! He was a fast young lad, he was.”
Worgh took a sip of water.
“Morchad trained with the evil, and after the king of their army was killed, Morchad was voted the king. He attacked the other army many, many times. The bad part: he succeeded in doing so. He killed many of the warriors of the good army.”
He took another swig of water.
“Now, as you know, I am a retired spy for the good army, so I know all of this. I would tell you the good army’s name, but I swore an oath to them, and they still hold me to my oath.
“Morchad then created the Ognoks. I know a few: Ersach, Undewad, Heirg, Velrer, Arque, Idabn. They are all feared. Only one has killed an Ognok. His name was Rewlurc. He killed an Ognok named Arque.
“Morchad still lives. He has attacked every race now besides those of his army: Elves, humans, aliens are neutral. But he has killed so many, the good army only has about 5,000 now, and his army is 20,000 strong. The good army is outnumbered by the forces of Morchad’s army.”
Then Arek and Thetra went back to their house, grabbed their bows and quivers, and decided to go hunting early. But this time, they weren’t hunting for deer or other game- they were hunting for Ognoks.
A BROTHERLY TALK
Thetra woke up to the sound of metal on metal, and went downstairs to see Arek banging the pots and pans together.
“What are you doing?” exclaimed Thetra.
Arek stopped. “Good. I was trying to wake you up.”
“Why?”
Arek smiled. “WAKE UP CALL!” Then he tackled Thetra in a bear hug. “I had a good dream last night.”
“Oh?”
“Aye. I was a dragon. A dragon. I flew through the night. Boy, it was a good dream.”
“Tell me more. I’ll tell you about mine.”
“Oh, alright. So I was a dragon.”
“I know that. Can you say something else? Anything else?”
“Nope. That’s it. What’s yours?”
Thetra shook his head and grinned. “That’s it! You were just a dragon for a few seconds?”
“Aye.”
“Well, mine was different than yours.” Then he told him about his dream where the hunters were hunting him. When he finished, he said, “Aye. So... What did you have for breakfast?”
“Uh, stew. Why?”
“Just curious. What kind of stew?”
“I have no idea. Where’s Mother andOh. Right.”
“Remember, Thetra? The murderers. Oh, I want to get my revenge on them so bad. I want to avenge them! Oh, I will! Yes!”
“Calm down, Arek. You’re acting a little”
“I can’t calm down! They’re my parents. Or at least were my parents until somebody killed them.”
“It’s alright, Arek. I know it’s a loss for us, but it won’t stop us. In other words, it may hurt us, but it won’t kill us.”
“Thanks for cheering me up,” he grumbled. “But I’m still mad.”
“Don’t be, Arek. We’ll survive.”
“But they sure didn’t! Gosh, Thetra. How can you keep your anger down?”
“Arek, because I don’t have anger issues.”
“Are you saying that I have anger issues?” roared Arek. “Because if anybody does, it’s you!”
“Well, the doctor said so himself and plus”
“Thetra, that doctor has issues,” said Arek in a low voice. Two seconds ago he had looked like he was about to explode, but now he just looked like he had taken a chill-pill.
Thetra knew it was a lie and Arek was trying as hard as he could to win the conversation, but he had to put up with Arek’s foul behavior. He said, “Arek, just meditate. Calm yourself. I know you’re still mad, yes, yes. But just try! Take my advice and use it well.” Then Thetra put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You’ll grow up to be a great warrior.”
“Thank you, Brother.” Then Arek took a deep breath and sighed. “Wow. Much better.”
“Good. Now just stay here. I’m going to go hunt down the murderers of the crime.”
WAITING...AT
THE CAFE
He returned with nothing. Nothing new.
“That’s alright,” said Arek, and Thetra knew that his brother was only trying to cheer him up and make him feel better, but he still counted it as an insult.
“Thanks, Arek. That
makes me feel...much better.”
“Hey! Is that an insult, Brother?!”
Thetra stared at him, and then said, “’Tis. Does it make you feel better?”
“About what?”
“That we didn’t find the murderers nor any food! That I didn’t.”
“If anything, it makes me feel worse.”
“I’m sorry. I failed. It is my fault and I shouldn’t be blaming you for it.” Then he hugged Arek, a nice big brotherly hug.
“’Tis alright, Thetra.Friends?” He held out a hand.
Thetra took it. “Brothers.” Then he and his brother walked up to the big room and played the rest of the afternoon, waiting for the killers to return.
They went to Ullman’s Café for dinner. It was a place with salads and other vegetarian stuff, and although neither of them were vegetarians, neither minded having salads every now and then.
They ordered, then ate, and then saw the killers walk in, wearing black cloaks. When they walked in, Thetra and Arek walked out. The three murderers introduced themselves and then sat at a table.
The first one, the one that had killed their mother, drew a knife. Then, when the waitress had walked over to their table, he ordered, and then stabbed the woman in the right leg. When he did that, everyone in the restaurant ran outside, running for their lives and their children’s.
“Arek and Thetra!” boomed the voice of the murderer that had killed their parents. “I, Maloet Ferabulsson, swear on your parents’ grave that I shall kill you, Arek and Thetra Eouhjasson!”
“As do we,” muttered Thetra, and then lunged at the killer, poking him with a stick he had found. “And you’ll die as well!” Then he shouted a savage war cry, stabbing the murderer.
Arek was battling the other two with a staff he had found in the middle of the forest. Thetra saw him bang a murderer, killing him because of the metal.
Arek tried to choke the killer he was facing, but failed as the murderer moved out of the way. Then the murderer yelled some magic word and made fire erupt in front of Thetra, and he saw the murderer crawl away, looking like he was about to puke.
“They’re escaping!” noted Arek, running after them. He cracked the murderer’s head, but the murderer just kept on fighting.
Maloet charged at Thetra with his dagger, but Thetra moved to the side and banged him on the back, like a lashing. “Take that, you killer of our family!”
Arek wasn’t doing nearly as well. His opponent, a pale female with tattoos, was stabbing at him to and fro with a whip, like a snake attacking.