Chapter 1

Power Unseen

Power is a funny thing. Villains and heroes both have power, gain power, use power. The quest for power can be a guiding light or the bane of one’s existence. It’s the reason why wars are fought, why the unknown is caged, why “failures” are forgotten like acorns buried in the forest.

Thousands of years ago, the quest for more power blinded the early human magicasters, tearing open the first demon portal. A generation ago, a quest to regain the legacy of power their father Sarpec had lost, drove the Warriors Thirteen to be the vanguard against the demonic horde pouring from the latest portal.

Now a quest for the power of greater respect entices a young prince to summon the newest initiate of the mercenary band now known as the Sons of Sarpec: Beyhaku Vindabrant clan Keahi.

* * * * *

“Why me?” Bey asked, trailing in the wake of Princess Mackenzi. The pair walked down the open stone hallway of the castle in Torin, the capital city of Morai. Their destination had been the royal stables, but Bey’s reluctance slowed their progress. “Why does your brother want me to help him in quelling this small outpouring of demons?”

Mackenzi spun, her green eyes affixing to Bey’s own bright blues. “Roarke and the lads could use someone with your abilities, a Son of Sarpec,” she said in the slight brogue of her people. “Some of those demons have magicasting abilities. And all they have is leather armor and maybe a wee bit o’ steel.”

“Don’t remind me about the armor,” Bey said trying to adjust the leather cuirass to a more comfortable position. His lightly tanned skin chafing under the armor. How can people wear this stuff and still fight? Bey thought to himself. “There are plenty of my cousins who can bladecast well enough to help. Or my uncles. They did quell the Great Outpouring when the portal opened. Or even my dad. He’s not called Ragnar the Stalwart for his singing voice. There are plenty of Sons of Sarpec to help out. Roarke could use any one of them. I just became old enough to join them and still have a lot to learn about the demon-slaying that the Sons of Sarpec are known for.”

At this, Mackenzi gave Bey a look he had become all too familiar with. The look of loving derision. I guess I’m about to lose this argument, Bey thought just as Mackenzi began. “C’mon it’s an adventure to join in on. Think about it, blade against blade of the giant Gallu. Or dodging the blood dripping from the mace of an Aeshmai. Oh, or seeing the sun reflect off of the golden armor of the Mamunae. Just stay away from the Rens, especially the female looking ones, more lads have fallen to their evil powers than I care to think of.”

“I think you’re romanticizing demon-slaying a bit too much there, Zi,” Bey said as he tried not to laugh thinking about Mackenzi’s long ginger curls and purple dress twirling behind her if she ever were to fight a demon, let alone her trying to lift a claymore with her slight, teenaged frame. “I’d be trying my hardest to stay away from the portal itself. Don’t wanna be turned into a Moza. I mean, it’s one thing to defend the people you care about, but it’s something completely different to run in just for the adventure. I don’t think Roarke’s making a good choice bringing me along.”

“Bey, Roarke wanted you to join in. He didna want anyone else. Besides, he trusts you because I trust you. If father would let me go, I would.”

“I wish you could go too,” Bey said reaching for his hair, forgetting that he was wearing a helmet. He tried to recover some grace and placed his hands on the hilts of his twin short swords.

Mackenzi giggled. “You’re ears are fine, Bey. Nobody can see them. I’ll miss you while you’re gone,” she said. A long pause hung in the air as Bey shifted his eyes and shuffled his feet. “Well, we better finish getting to the stables if you’re ever gonna make it to Fort Sarpec,” Mackenzi spat out, her last words having been spoken an eternity ago.

She quickened the pace until the pair reached the stables. Bey nearly ran over Mackenzi when she came to a sudden halt. “Shh,” she whispered leaning toward the half-opened door. Bey removed his helmet. It muffled everything short of a battle cry. His shoulder-length, dark brown hair flopped down and he quickly set it.

“Tell me, why are we getting a horse ready for the princess’s pet agin?” One of the stablemen asked the other. “These is royal horses, not common steeds for a low-born, son of a mercenary, half-elf abomination.”

“Yeah,” the other added, “and with his pointy ears and beast-like elf magicastin’, he could just ride himself the whole way there.”

As they chuckled, Mackenzi burst through the door. “How about he just burn your faces off with a wee bit of fire magicasting?”

“Uh, Zi, it’s okay,” Bey said as he got between Mackenzi and the stablemen who were on the ground now, half bowing to the princess in apology and half covering their faces in case he were to make her threat less than idle. “And besides, magicasting without good reason is illegal.”

“Then take out your sword and bladecast the fire,” she said as her face became as red as her hair, “Better yet, use water. It’ll make them look like they drowned. We’re within the castle walls. Father’ll not do anything about that if I tell him what these lads said.”

She’s gonna get me aposiopested if she keeps this up, Bey thought, And I’d be quite a “Son of Sarpec” without my casting abilities. Bey turned to the cowering stablemen, “I’d get up if I were you. Ready a horse for me.” Turning back to Mackenzi, “I appreciate your concern, but there are better ways to get people to treat me fairly.”

“Aye, but none quite as effective.” Mackenzi’s voice mimicking the twinkle in her eyes. She turned back to the stablemen, “And Beyhaku is not low-born. He’s also the grandson of Naliki, the High-King of the wood elves. You’d best remember that.”

Bey quickly raised himself into the saddle, adjusted his armor, and rode off to Fort Sarpec, a day’s ride south.

* * * * *

“Why not yet?” Aranya asked, trailing in the wake of the being that she had come to know as Koah. The pair looked quite odd: she standing rigidly upright in a long, cream colored dress and her blonde hair blowing in the cold, southern wind; he slightly hunched in a long, green cloak to keep his hood completely covering his face. “Why can I not rule those people I have been living amidst for over four years? You promised me the rule of Mitterë if I would help you. I have held up my end of the bargain. When will I be able to rule?”

“Soon,” the voice came from the void beneath the hood, “It takes time to plan something like this, young one. And there’s still one thing we need to test before our plans can happen.”

Aranya asked, “What is it that we need to test?” Koah spun, reached out his gloved hand and clasped a silvery bracelet on her left wrist. “You wanted to test how fast my reflexes are?” she asked wryly.

“No, that’ll protect you where we’re going.” Koah said, “I think.”

Aranya could hear the smile coming from beneath the hood. As long as I have people bowing to me before another year passes. This alliance cannot last much longer. “There is not much south of Mitterë other than a demon portal. That is, besides the frigid mountains where even dwarves and trolls dare not tread. I certainly do not have the proper attire for those mountains, even though it is springtime.”

“We’re going to the portal because I’ve finally done it,” Koah said as he picked up the pace, “I’ve finally learned to control the demons and their Moza minions.”

Aranya smiled brightly as her glorious future filled her eyes. “That is terrific. Our plans can move forward then. I will soon rei…”

“My plan can move forward, but before your plans can come to pass, we need to see if that bracelet lets you command the demons as well.”

Aranya examined the bracelet on her wrist, noticing for the first time a small glass vial holding a dark liquid in it. “Is this a blood-brace? How is a magicaster-controlling device going to assist me with demons? They are not all magicasters.”

Koah snorted, “Don’t they teach you anything in Amata? Demons’re created from magicasting, whether they can cast or not. Besides, we won’t know if it’ll work unless we try it.”

“What will happen if the blood-brace does not work? What will happen then?” Aranya slowed as she looked at the now heavy bracelet. Koah continued at his brisk pace. Why is he not answering me? Is he leading me into a trap? I should have never helped him in the first place. “Well…Koah? I do not want to die if this bracelet does not work,” she said stamping her foot on the lush grassland.

“Then let’s hope it works.”

* * * * *

“Arise, Bey. Today you test your mettle as a Son of Sarpec.” A firm hand grasped Bey’s shoulder as he tried to ignore his father. A feat just as impossible as it was to ignore the legend of the stalwart elf-friend. “I know you’re nervous, son. Demons are nothing to trifle with, but you are a great bladecaster and magicaster as well. Even if you lose your blade, you don’t need to worry. Just loose some magicasting from your hands. None of the rest of us can do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, stop trying to give me confidence. I’m not worried about fighting the demons. I’m just wondering what the purpose is of doing this.” Bey sat up on the bed, his slightly-longer-than-human and pointed ears uncovered.

Ragnar looked at his son in bewilderment, “What’s the purpose?!” He stroked his graying beard. “Do you want the demons to take over all of these lands? We fight to keep the horde from overtaking us.” Ragnar struck his “mighty pose.” “We are the Warriors Thirteen and their male descendents, the protectors of all the Moraite lands.” Ragnar unsheathed his claymore, the blade began to frost in his hands, becoming the purest of blue ice. He continued his speech as Bey recited the rest in his head, “We are the first and last defense from the demonic horde. We are the brave and mighty. The noble and true. The Sons of Sarpec.”

I’m not sure who he’s talking about. I’ve met my uncles and cousins. They’re not all brave and mighty. And even less are noble and true. But I guess the powerless will believe anything as long as they don’t have to deal with the demons. Bey said, “That’s not what I mean, dad. Why do we use our casting abilities to help people who then fear us for our powers? We’re told, ‘Don’t use your casting abilities,’ our whole lives, but once some demon or an invader from another country comes around, then it’s all, ‘Hit it with some fire!’ Wouldn’t it just be easier for everyone if we hid our casting? That’s what they seem to want anyway.”

Ragnar sat next to his son, “Casting is an extension of who we are, just as a blade is an extension of any warrior. We could try to hide our abilities all we want, but once people we know are in trouble, we all enter a warrior state and we can’t help but use everything available to us to help.” He stared out the window in the direction of the demon portal. “But people fear power like that because of what it can do when those with power hoard it for themselves. Power is meant to be used for others, not hoarded for ourselves.”

Bey said, “Alright, dad, I see your point. I’m awake now. Let me get ready.”

After the long ride alone yesterday, Bey felt like he could sleep for another few hours. But the ride out to the demon portal with Prince Roarke and his mighty men was still ahead of them. So, he readied himself quickly and headed to the stable.

* * * * *

The sun was just rising in the east when Bey reached the stable. “Is everybody else here?” Bey asked Roarke.

“Aye,” he replied with a hint more of brogue than his sister “We’ve been waiting for you, laddie.”

Bey looked at the men before him, “men” being a general term as there were a couple of women among the men. They were all dressed in leather armor and the long cloths wrapped around their waists and left shoulders, which they called “braits,” in the various colors of their ancestors. Some also wore a gauntlet or two, which became popular since the Warriors Thirteen arrived nearly 35 years ago. Four archers, with dirks at their sides, two men with axes, three of them with spears, and three with claymores, including Roarke whose brait was the deep blue plaid of the royal line. “I see you’ve assembled thirteen men for this mission,” Bey said trying to hide his contempt. This obsession with the Sons of Sarpec has gone way too far.

Roarke smiled as he looked at his men, “Aye, the lads and I figured it could be our lucky number,” seeming to have missed Bey’s sarcasm.

The ride to the portal was filled with laughter and good-natured ribbing, for everyone except Bey who rode in the back and was the butt of more than a few jokes. Roarke occasionally rebuked his people, stating how powerful Bey actually was. He had seen Bey train outside the city of Torin with his bladecasting on the many days Roarke had to fetch Mackenzi because she was off watching Bey train. Roarke’s words sounded reminiscent of Mackenzi’s to Bey’s half-elf ears. Maybe he’s not so bad, Bey thought.

Rising over the hill nearest the demon portal, the party stopped and viewed the battlefield before them. Bey unsheathed his twin blades and twirled them by flicking his wrists, a common bladecaster tic. Bey had heard of demons his whole life. He could categorize them, explain their particular methods of fighting, and even explain any type of demon’s rarity, but nothing could prepare him for his first view of them.

The types that fought with little or no armor were beautiful. Granted they were gray-skinned with white hair and eyes a color similar to a blind man’s, but their shape was as elegant and beautiful as the most desirable of humans. And there was a glow about them similar to the color swirling on the skin of a bubble. It was captivating. Even the Pacabs, the demons who crawled along the ground and ate the flesh of the fallen, were to be envied for their beauty by any who looked upon them at a distance, which is the closest anyone wanted to be to a demon.

About a hundred, Bey thought to himself. Eight-to-one odds aren’t the worst in the world. At least we have the element of surprise. As if hearing Bey’s inner voice, the demons looked up at the party of men. Even their Moza minions, once-human creatures that had been taken into a demon portal, turned their gray heads in unison. A Gallu, the largest of the demons standing at over 7 feet tall and fully armored, strode out of the portal with its giant broadsword drawn. The color-muted Mozas began to cheer their champion.

Roarke eased his horse forward, “Alright lads, this is our chance to defend our homes. Our chance to be remembered. Our chance at glory. Fight well. Donae let fear grip your hearts.” The demons and Mozas advanced as Roarke spoke until he finally said, “Archers let loose your arrows.”

As the arrows flew into the advancing ranks, Bey thought to himself, At least there aren’t any Belphs here. We don’t have to worry too much about taking hits from their sleep-inducing arrows. It finally dawned upon Bey that his bladecasting could also damage from a distance and he loosed an arc of lightning from his blade’s swing. The horse, being unused to a bladecaster as its rider, stood upon its hind legs and threw Bey from his saddle, as the thunderclap echoed from the bladecast. The lightning arced wildly as Bey fell upon his backside.

“Hold your laughter until the battle’s over lads,” Roarke commanded, “Battle’s no place to lose your focus.” At that, he raced his horse toward the demonic ranks.

All but the archers followed suit. And Bey, foregoing the easily rattled horse, drew upon his elven magicasting heritage and leapt in great strides toward the gray mass. Planting his feet a few yards from the front line of demons, he sliced an arc of light toward the Gallu. “Shield your eyes!” he yelled to his comrades. As the arc hit the great creature, a blast of light blinded all of the foremost demons.

“Attack!” Roarke said. As he saw an opportunity for a few easy kills.

Bey leapt to a Mamuna, the golden-armored demon with crystal-encrusted weapons, and drove his blade into the demon’s neck, letting loose a lightning bolt down the blade. The bolt arced in a semi-circle injuring every demon within a few feet in front of Bey.

Looking to see if anyone saw what he just did, Bey noticed a Pacab racing open-mouthed and hungry toward one of the axe wielders. Flynn, I believe was his name. Bey drove his left blade into the ground and stretched out his now empty hand. Fire, Bey thought as a streak of flame flew from his hand, Through the pack of Mozas, over the Vite, between the Aeshma’s legs, up, over Flynn’s shoulder, and in the face of the Pacab. The fire engulfed the Pacab, burning any of the demons who came near it. Flynn didn’t even notice the save.

Bey’s attention being on directing the fire magicast, he almost didn’t notice the female-looking Ren sneak up on him. Her “armor” covered very little of her body. Who would ever come to battle dressed like that? Bey thought as she smiled at him lustfully and sauntered closer, mesmerizing the half-elf. The hidden dagger!!! Bey remembered just quickly enough as she sliced her weapon where his torso had just been. A quick ice blast to the face and a spin with his blade decapitated the Ren. “And that’s why we wear armor,” Bey said to the falling body.

Then again, I can understand the desire to fight without actual armor, though definitely fully clothed, Bey thought as he chafed from the cuirass’s reaction to his spin.

Picking up his second sword again, Bey thought he heard one of the men yell Roarke’s name. He looked up to see the giant Gallu carrying Roarke’s limp body toward the demon portal. Too many demons around to direct a cast and not get snuck up on again, Bey thought. He raced toward the Gallu.

The archers directed their arrows toward the Gallu. Most of them bouncing off his armor. The rest of Roarke’s team rode hard toward the giant demon, as the other demons tried to divert the riders’ attention with their own magicasting abilities. Chunks of earth and ice, and streaks of fire, lightning, water, and wind flew toward the team. All were of a more purple hue than Bey’s own casting. Even some bolts of dark magicasting whizzed past the team. A few, Oscar, Tristan, and Shaylee, fell during the attack.

Bey flipped over the pack of Mozas and landed directly in front of the Gallu. It swung its broadsword single-handedly from over its head. Bey caught the mighty blow between his blades placed in an X. Ugh, even with the strength of elven magicasting that hurt. The jolt from Bey’s catch made the Gallu lose it’s grip on Roarke. It grabbed its blade with both hands, readying for an even stronger blow when one of the arrows flew right into its neck. Gasping for air, it fell.

As the Gallu fell toward Bey, he flipped backwards…right into the pack of Mozas. They grabbed his arms and carried him toward the demon portal. With Roarke just beginning to come to, the troop focused their attention rushing toward him, not even noticing Bey’s capture.

Nearing the portal, Bey’s worst fears began to cloud his warrior state. I’m gonna become a Moza. I’m so sorry, Zi. Through tears, Bey saw the portal before him. He put up his hands in what he knew to be a worthless attempt at stopping the inevitable…

Only, he felt resistance as his hands touched the portal. Pain, like a fire inside his body, began to consume him. Impure, fully-adulterated evil filled his mind. The screams of thousands of people being tortured deafened his ears. Is this what it’s like to become a Moza?

A couple of the Mozas trying to push him into the portal fell as the archers let fly their arrows toward Bey. Roarke had commanded them to let loose once he fully came back to consciousness. But it was too late. Bey couldn’t move. Pain. Fear. Power. Something caused Bey to stand still as if holding up the portal.

A small light from amid the darkness filling Bey’s mind began to grow. It fought back against the pain. It flowed through his entire body until finally it moved past his fingertips and hit the portal. Every demon and Moza looked to the portal as it quivered, as if it were writhing in pain. The portal seemed to implode. A burst of energy exploded from its center. Bey, and every demon near the portal, flew from the blast.

The distraction allowed Roarke’s riders to take swift action upon most of the demonic horde that was left, who seemed far weaker than they had before. A few escaped, but lone demons away from a portal are far less menacing.

Bey witnessed the mop up of the battle, but heard nothing other than the ringing in his ears. Even if his legs had been able to support his weight, the pain in his hands caused by closing the demon portal made him unable to cast, let alone grip a sword. So, he lay where he had landed, hoping no demons would come near while the battle concluded.

Once the battle was over, Roarke and another man laid Bey on the horse of one of the fallen. The ride back seemed like an eternity to Bey. When he finally started to be able to hear again, the one thing he remembered hearing was “At least the half-elf is good for a distraction.”