Demonkin Read Online Free Page B

the lava lake. As the other watched from a distance, D'Artim fell to his knees at the edge of the lava. He bowed his head reverently, and the lava began to boil violently. The turmoil increased to a furious tempo and then the lava parted in the center of the lake. Slowly a black mass began to emerge from the lava, and the other three demons swiftly dropped to their knees.
    The massive black object rose upward, lava flowing off its skin like rain flowing off a statue. Within moments the upper half of Alutar rose to the surface of the lava lake, and the other three demons gave vocal vows of reverence. D'Artim ignored them. For several long minutes, D'Artim knelt, staring wordlessly at his master. Without warning, Alutar slowly sunk back under the lava, and eventually the troubled surface of the lake calmed. D'Artim rose to his clawed feet and bowed reverently. He turned to face the other demons.
    “Was that real?” asked D'Cavan.
    “Why you?” asked D'Wycaram.
    “You should not need to ask about the realness of our master,” scowled the head demon. “As for why I have been chosen, the answer is simple. While you three are favored for your continued diligence to his principles, I alone spent the last thousand years trying to free Alutar from his imprisonment.”
    “Did he speak to you?” asked D'Lycind.
    “He did,” D'Artim grinned. “Our plea has been heard. We are to obtain four elven women to create a new breed of demonkin. Each of us shall spawn a creature to track down and kill the Knights of Alcea.”
    “What will be special about them?” asked D'Cavan.
    “Each will be unique,” explained D'Artim, “and they will be much more powerful and intelligent than the K'sans. They are to be known as the Claws of Alutar.”
    “This is exciting,” grinned D'Cavan. “I shall send for the women immediately.”
    “No.” D'Artim shook his head. “Ordinary elven women will not suffice. The chosen women must hail from the lineage of King Elisar, the ancient king of all elves.”

Chapter 2
Illusionist
    Waxhaw was a major hub of transport on the west coast of Vinafor, and it had existed for over a thousand years. While many parts of the city had been modernized over the centuries, the old part of the city still remained the same with its narrow, twisting alleys. The shops were tiny by modern standards, and few people bothered to visit the old district any more. Still there were items available in the old district that were not available anywhere else.
    The old man meandered down the narrow alleys as if merely out for a morning stroll, but his eyes constantly flicked left and right as if he were searching for something particular. Deep in the warren of the old district, the old man halted in front of a narrow shop that bore no sign. The small window fronting the shop was so dirty that it was impossible to see through, and the shop's location, exactly where the skinny alley turned, would have made most people pass it by without knowing that it existed. The old man was not put off by appearances. He put his hand to the door and smiled with surprise as the door actually opened. He strode into the shop and heard a small bell announce his arrival.
    The tiny shop was packed with books. Bookshelves ran the length of the two walls, and only a narrow pathway led between them. Even that pathway had piles of books cluttering it, and the old man had to step carefully to avoid damaging the books. At the far end of the pathway was a small table with a curtain behind it. He halted at the table and waited for the proprietor to appear. After several minutes had passed, and no one had come to greet him, the old man stepped around the table and passed through the curtain.
    Beyond the curtain were more books, and the air was musty. There were no bookshelves to hold them, so the books were merely piled one atop another, and the piles reached nearly to the ceiling. The old man moved through the piles and soon found himself at the rear of the