Epic Fantasy Book Series With Angels And Demons
The Light And Shadow Chronicles by D.M. Cain
Series excerpt
The sun gradually moved across the sky above Meraxor, casting gleaming shafts of light down onto the castle of Belkeep. As each ray caught the golden leaves, a hundred beams of sparkling brightness were cast off, giving the immense castle an ethereal, glittering aura.
Vincent prowled the corridors of Belkeep Castle, turning tumultuous thoughts over in his head. It was a coincidence, a mere scattering of luck alone that his army, the Brotherhood of Shadow, had received the elixir of life. A small child had arrived in his fledgling nation carrying it. Vincent had taken the small vial of innocuous looking liquid, and his immortality had begun there.
He had thought it would level out the advantage Callista had—the ability to never age, to train for eternity and become the best soldier possible. So he had undertaken the path to eternal youth along with her. But all that had happened was they had spent 130 years fighting the same war. 130 years against the same infuriating enemy. They had been equal for so long now that he was expanding his reach, branching off into unknown avenues in the desperate hope of finding a way to finally end the never-ending battle.
Vincent had called a meeting of his most powerful fighters, something he rarely did, in the hope of making some headway against the Children of Light. He just wanted the conflict to be over, and he believed they finally had an advantage which might just be enough of a shock to destroy them.
Vincent cast his eyes over the soldiers he had gathered before him.
“I’ve brought you here because now is the time to strike. The Children of Light are arrogant, their defences are down and they are more focused upon expanding their territories than defending the ones they already hold. It’s time to make a drastic move to cripple them.”
Vincent’s black eyes flashed with vigour as he raised his arms wide, enamoured with his own grandeur. He was seated upon his throne, the carved, dark metal twisting around his shoulders.
A smirk spread across Phantom’s face and he nodded slowly in agreement, excited by the prospect of spilling Children of Light blood. He knelt before Vincent, one knee resting upon the black granite floor of the great stone hall. Behind the throne knelt Vincent’s concubines, heads lowered in silence, never daring to glance up at their exalted leader. He was master of them all, and a step out of place put their lives at risk, but they listened closely and hung onto his every word.
“We will make a bold strike into the heart of the Children of Light. Their borders are too well defended, and too many powerful soldiers protect Nazaki for us to attempt an invasion, but I intend to remove a key member of their forces, thereby weakening their chain of command and their morale. I am, therefore, issuing an order for the execution of one of their third-generation fighters, respected by Callista, popular amongst the ranks and invaluable to their army. He is a high-ranking fighter, the favourite son of Raven Lennox. This young soldier has risen through the ranks to become strong and talented, but he is foolish and headstrong. His overconfidence makes him vulnerable, and to kill him would not only make a dent in the Children of Light’s strength, it would also considerably damage Raven and Callista. He is the perfect target.”
A low hiss rumbled through Phantom’s throat and his body visibly pulsed with excitement at the prospect of slaughter. He licked his lips as if he could taste his victim’s blood already.
“Chaos Lennox, youngest son of Raven Lennox and Estella Baker. He’s been running Nightfall, a ragtag band of kids who think they’re ‘elite.’ At the moment, Chaos is just a naive puppy, but give him a few years and he could grow into a serious threat, just like his father did. Their defences are simply too secure. We can’t let Chaos and his little band of kids get to that stage. A ‘prophecy’ from their sacred text, The Book of Alcherys, proclaims him as the one who will bring us to our knees. It’s stupid, of course. Their prophecies mean nothing. But it makes him confident and strong, and we should take him out just in case there is any truth to it.
“In a monumental error in judgement, Callista has placed Chaos and his band of children on the eastern border, on their own, away from the safety of Avalanche. A few months back, I dispatched some scouts to the region for reconnaissance. They reported that Chaos had defended the border but that, beyond him, there were only other minor soldiers securing their lands. There was no sign of senior soldiers. This leads me to believe that with the right attack strategy we could get to Chaos easily.
“The problem is that Children of Light scouts would catch us within fifty miles of the border. Therefore, we need a strike force that will not trigger alarms.”
Vincent looked at the people he had gathered before him. They were the Brotherhood’s brightest and strongest.
He already knew who he wanted to use for this mission. It was obvious, but tradition in the Brotherhood of Shadow meant that soldiers were allowed to put themselves forwards for tasks, even when there was little chance of success. The whole process bored Vincent, and he would happily have dispensed with the formality, but his people liked it and he felt duty-bound to honour traditions. It kept the people happy and gave him a chance to check on the progress of fighters he might not otherwise see or spare a thought about.
Vincent listened to a few pleas from various soldiers in his army, none of whom were good enough to take the mission. Finally, he came to one of his own sons, Silas Wilder. His thin, wiry frame swayed as he walked, as if he were dancing on his approach. His face glowed with a bizarre and unwarranted happiness. On his cheek was a tattoo of a dragon, its black wings stretching to just beneath his left eye. He had a permanent grin on his face and looked as if he were about to burst into laughter. His buoyancy irritated Vincent.
“You can’t seriously be suggesting I send you, Silas?”
Silas shrugged his shoulders and smirked. “Why ever not? You know I have the manpower to take these children down. Why not let my hounds loose for a kill?”
Vincent rolled his eyes. “Your ‘hounds’ are weak and undisciplined. I said I wanted a discreet operation not a whole army marching to their death. They’d be killed instantly.”
Silas gave a shrill giggle. “Yes, but while they’re being killed, I could sneak in and have some fun with the boy.”
Vincent heaved a great sigh. “Just get out of my sight, Silas, until you can listen to what I’m actually asking from you.”
“Oh please, Father! It’s been sixteen years since I messed up. Isn’t it time to let it go?” His eyes shone with a misplaced maniacal delight.
Vincent glared at him and pointed towards the door. Silas chuckled and sauntered out of the room, humming to himself.
Vincent was growing bored of the line of disappointing options. He didn’t have the patience to hear from them all. He looked down the line. He knew he didn’t want any of them to have the job and didn’t have the energy to hear them out.
He dismissed them quickly with a harsh flick of his wrist, and they shuffled out, muttering under their breath.
At the far end of the room, slouching in a large chair, sat Phantom. He chuckled as he watched the spurned soldiers leave the room, heads hanging with shame.
Vincent rose from his throne and moved towards Phantom, who looked up at him with challenge in his eyes.
“Phantom, the Children of Light do not yet know we have the aid of demons. Now might be the time to utilise the element of surprise and unleash the black feathers of Hell.”
A twisted grin spread across Phantom’s face. “It would be a delight.”
Vincent shook his head slowly and gave Phantom a cold stare. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. I don’t want you to go. You are far too impulsive and you can’t keep your rage under control.”
Phantom recoiled from the insult as if he had been slapped.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your desire to destroy everything in your way would put our mission in jeopardy. This is a covert operation until we get close to them. Then it is time to unleash Hell. Your self-control is poor, and I don’t trust you not to raze all before you to dust.”
Phantom’s fury was brimming near the surface, ready to explode, but Vincent met his eyes with unflinching strength. “A demon is definitely the way forwards, but not you. I need somebody cunning and discreet but also callous and brutal. Bring them all here. Show me what they can do.”
***
Half an hour later, the three demons stood before Vincent in the cool throne room: Malla, Anubis and Anathema. Anubis towered over the others, muscles rippling with each movement. Malla scanned the room with thoughtful concentration. Anathema stood, still as stone and with a determined look etched on his face, itching to prove himself.
Vincent wanted a demonstration of their powers, one by one, an interview for a job each of them so strongly desired. Malla was first. She stepped towards Vincent and, fixing him in her dark eyes, began to project her illusion. The world around Vincent blurred and the edges of his vision warped and vibrated. Suddenly, his surroundings collapsed in upon themselves and the throne room blinked and disappeared to be replaced by a vast wasteland. Piles of rubble and ruined buildings smoked in the aftermath of a furious fire. Vincent turned around to see the imposing skeletal remains of the Fortress of Crae, gutted from a tremendous blast, a few flames licking the building’s destroyed interior.
On the wasteland before him, bodies were scattered in varying degrees of decay. Vincent walked past a few mangled corpses clad in Children of Light uniforms before his eyes rested upon a particular body. Raven Lennox lay sprawled across the rubble, blood pouring from the devastating wounds upon his broken, lifeless body. Vincent’s sword stood upright in Raven’s body, skewered through his chest, pinning him to the ground.
Vincent calmly cast his eyes over the sword and where it had entered Raven’s body, the flesh torn and ripped. Thick, viscous blood dripped from the tip of the blade. Behind him, a high-pitched scream caught his attention. He turned to see Callista, bound with thick rope, hands and feet tied together. Captive, defenceless, his at last. He walked towards her and stretched out a hand to stroke her delicate face.
The image flickered and warped and the room shifted back to cold, sterile reality. Vincent’s heart pounded from the vividness of the hallucination. The glee of Raven’s visceral death, the delight of finally acquiring Callista. This was what Malla offered—the ability to delude and trick his enemies, to confuse them and strip them of their defences so they walked towards their death without a struggle. But she could never go alone because, as vivid as her creations were, the victim could not interact with the vision.
Vincent cast his eyes next to the enormous hulking figure beside Malla, his massive shoulders hunched over and his collarbone protruding out from beneath a jagged chin. Crazed eyes stared at him with unnerving ferociousness. Vincent nodded to him and took a step back. Anubis leapt forwards as if spring-loaded and immediately began to transform. His human skin burst open as his chest puffed up and his rib cage swelled. His face shape began to alter, his jaw lengthening until he looked like a wolf, teeth sharp and pointed.
Vincent looked him over analytically, weighing up the demon’s pros and cons. Powerful, imposing, intimidating—he would certainly strike fear into the Children of Light’s defences. But, on the other hand, this was a covert mission and surely Anubis had even less control than Phantom.
He turned to Anathema, who stood, still and intense, staring at Vincent, awaiting his turn. Vincent nodded and Anathema stepped forwards. His skin trembled with electrified tingles from head to toe, and a warm feeling of freedom flooded over him. Bursting free from the restrictions of his disguise, he shuddered with pleasure as he sank into the recesses of his demon self. His body contorted with spasms as his physical form changed, his bones clicked into place and his skin changed consistency, and he rose into the air with a great flap of his wings. Hovering close to Phantom, his eyes flashed with crazed bloodlust. This was it—his big chance to prove himself, to open the floodgates to the wider world and unlimited opportunity. As he eased himself physically and mentally into his natural form, he felt energised, invigorated by parading his prowess before his masters.
He swung through the air and flew towards Vincent with a powerful sweep of his wings, until he hovered inches from him. Pulling his lips back, Anathema snarled, displaying rows of sharp teeth, and gave a deafening battle cry, a high-pitched shriek that caused Vincent’s companions to flinch in surprise. There was barely a flicker of response in Vincent’s eyes, but a small smirk began to fall across his lips.
Anathema dropped to the floor, took a step back, eyes still locked onto Vincent’s and began to change back. His body fought against the intrusion of human DNA, as if his immune system were protesting a viral infection. He gritted his teeth, focused his attention and steadied his mind. His shoulders began to shake with the strain, his body desperate to cling onto its preferred state. He needed a way to convince his body it was worth it. He thought of all he had done recently, of his developing confidence and the techniques he had learnt. He felt free and empowered, and there was nothing a free demon couldn’t do.
The irony was that he had the most freedom when he inhabited human form. It was in that restricted facade that he had surpassed the boundaries of what it meant to be a demon. He was unstoppable, and it was all due to that disguise. It might be disgusting but it was worth it.
And with that thought, his mind shut down its defences and his body allowed the transformation to flood over him. His bones cracked back into a human skeleton, his skin creaked and flexed as it was stretched over his skull. Before long he was back inside the thin, youthful disguise, his cold grey eyes piercing the dim light of the room and his pale skin glinting in the candlelight of the stone audience chamber.
Vincent weighed him up with cold, analytical eyes.
“I think we’ve found our soldier.”
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