The Demon's Blade Read Online Free Page A

lines traced snaking paths around the crystal, meeting in various places. Finally, all at once, the crystal shattered in a thousand places, and as it did, the pieces disintegrated into a fine pink powder, which burst in all directions, coating the floor and walls of the small room in a thin layer of the stuff. The reaction completely consumed the starstone, and the room was left in darkness.
    The darkness however, did not trouble the Executioner. The magics that enhanced his sight and allowed him to see in darkness had become second nature, requiring no more concentration than focusing his eyes. The sword lay before him. Even to his enhanced vision, the blade appeared utterly black, a fang of emptiness, long as a man’s arm, but no wider than three inches at the hilt. The silvery hilt shone bright to Darien's eyes next to the dark of the blade. Elven runes wound around the hilt and along the cross guard, words in a language now remembered only by scholars. A transparent sphere, made of glass or some sort of crystal, formed the pommel.
    Darien stared, awed at finally seeing the source of his Master's power, laid bare before him. Once he took it, the blade would eventually consume him. Once he took the sword in hand, it would bind itself to him, and in so doing, subject him to the corruption of demonic power. The Master knew this as well, of course, but he had been clever, never actually touching the blade directly, instead drawing upon its power using his enchantments and the power of the now shattered crystal like a fountain of magical energy. That, at least, was what Darien had learned in his long months of preparation. If he had erred, then he would know in a moment. He took hold of the hilt.
    As his fingers wrapped around the silver, he felt his hand clench. He felt the sword's immense power rush through him, filling him with more magical energy than he had thought possible. He clenched his teeth. His hand burned with a terrible fire, while the rest of his arm felt as though it was frozen. A few moments later, and it was over. The burning relented, and he could move his arm again. Even as he did, he felt the change in him. He felt the sword's power commingling with his own. It was complete.
    He then strode resolutely out the arched door and into the narrow stone tunnel that led back to the dungeon of Shade Castle. He navigated the winding passage as quickly as he could manage, and then opened the door to the dungeon. A single green skinned, sharp tusked, orc guard watched as he entered the room, perhaps ten yards ahead in the narrow hallway. The orc was no doubt wondering why a half-elf had had just appeared out of the wall, the door was invisible to all who had not the skill to see it. The orc started to run, but the Executioner had covered the distance before the orc could take a step. The orc fell dead without a sound at the slight stroke of the demon sword, and the resolute half-elf continued on. He wound his way through the mazelike passages of the dungeons, killing the few guards he found as easily as the first. He knew these tunnels well. He had witnessed so many horrors here. The dungeon was an evil place, so evil that only the most depraved and violent members of the Order ever came here unbidden. There are, after all, some things that sicken even the wicked. Darien stopped his mind from too long dwelling upon such memories, trying to focus on his task.
    Finally, he arrived at the dungeon’s main entrance, a wide straight stone stair that led up to the keep proper. He opened the door just a crack, and seeing no one, he slunk through, and began to climb. He heard no sound, and wondered if the Master had already felt the effects of what he had done. At the top of the stair, he turned left down a narrow hallway lined with hideous yawning gargoyles. Did the Master yet know what had happened, and who was responsible? Beyond the narrow hallway, he opened a small doorway on the left, which led to a spiral staircase. The