The Patreon Collection: Volume 1 by Stefon Mears

Author:Stefon Mears [Mears, Stefon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Short Stories (Single Author)
ISBN: 9781948490283
Google: 6-GRzQEACAAJ
Amazon: 0997792442
Publisher: Thousand Faces Publishing
Published: 2017-03-02T18:30:00+00:00

Xorek and Karvan turned to see what Brys' first spell had wrought.

By the lamplight of the corridor they could first see mist, seeping in as though through cracks in the wall. Not that either man could see cracks. But the mist coalesced rapidly.

Neither man waited for the demon to form. Karvan smashed a vial near the hilt of his sword, allowing the greenish fluid within to flow down the blade and guarantee him at least one strike that could carve even the hide of a demon. More, if enough of the brew clung to the blade.

And Xorek drew the sword Shadowcarver in its entirety.

His hand seemed to clasp air above the hilt of his bone knife, but the knife vanished as he drew a yard-and-a-half blade the color of a shadow's edge. Xorek's armor rippled from dusky leathers to plates of gleaming black. Beginning with his sword hand and ending with a hood-like half-helm, he stood entirely within the sword's protection.

With one hand Xorek whipped Shadowcarver into a guard position, as though the blade weighed less than a breeze. And even that movement of the sword cut the air, a distant scream in its wake. Only enough to set the teeth on edge and tighten the shoulders of those who heard it.

But the bearer of Shadowcarver would always hear every scream echo through his body. Whether he cut armor or flesh, animal or human or demon, air, stone, or the barriers between worlds themselves, every movement of the ancient sword Shadowcarver carved something.

And what it carved died screaming.

The form the demon took was not one known to Xorek or Karvan. It seemed that Brys had studied hard since they had seen him last. The demon shaped itself like the tigers of the east, if such tigers had two sets of raking forepaws, stood eight feet at the shoulder, and sprouted three serpentine heads.

Karvan tucked away his throwing dagger, rather than waste it.

Xorek held up his weapon and his scarred left hand and said, "You see what I carry. And you see through my armor that two of your brothers are damned to my service. Withdraw to whatever hell spawned you. Withdraw or share their fate."

"You mortals always seek our favors." The demon's voice seemed to come not from its body, but from the air around them. "What boon will you grant me if I leave you alive?"

"I have not come to bargain. Withdraw or suffer."

All three snake heads snapped forward. Karvan dove into a roll that carried him past the demon. Xorek jumped to the side, evading one head. He whipped his sword across, shrieks in its wake as it cut another head's jaw in half.

The lost bit of demon reverted to mist and funneled into the blade.

But dodging the heads had left Xorek vulnerable to a blindingly fast forepaw. Raking claws screeched across armor plates, scarring but not piercing. Still, the force of the blow knocked Xorek from his feet.

Fire burned through Xorek's chest. His ribs had suffered a

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