The Demon Legacy

By Robert Taylor

Second of a 4 part series: The Demon Legacy. Raunst Baltir hunts after the man who ended his father's life. Crossing paths with a female assassin his life takes a startling twist. When a terrible monster awakens, Raunst must seek his family's legacy and his calling to protect a world on the edge of destruction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Taylor
• Release date: Apr 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301950430

Robert Taylor

Robert V. Taylor is a nationally recognized leader, author, and sought after speaker who invests his life in helping individuals and organizations to realize their full human potential and impact in the world. Born and raised in South Africa, Robert saw firsthand the difference that could be made when oppressed people are given the freedom to discover their voices, trust their imaginations, and find the courage to be who they are. Robert continues to explore integrating personal spirituality and values-driven strategies with the question of how we each leave a footprint of compassion in the world--both at home and in the corporate marketplace. He lives in Seattle, Washington.

Book preview

The Demon Legacy

Secret of the Demon: Part Two

Robert Taylor

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Robert Taylor

Original Cover Image:

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Preface

The rich black of night draped over the deep woods. A mist crept through the trees. The noiseless forest was damp. Along an unmarked path, a traveler moved with stealth and speed. The figure breathed softly, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he hurried. The laughter of drunken souls emerged out of the mist. In the distance, he spotted the light of a lantern through the dense brush. He directed his course toward the light.

The lantern hung on a post at the side of a road leading into the small trade city of Kanaris. Opposite the lantern stood a log building nestled deep in the trees. As the traveler approached he heard a new burst of laughter from within the log building. The sign over the tavern door pictured mug heavy with ale. The traveler moved to the tavern entrance. The man flung his brown leather cloak aside, revealing a vest of shining black chain mail. He drew an ebony crystalline saber from its scabbord. With a single kick, the tavern door flew open. Several drunken locals sat at the bar and tables. All but one looked over at the sudden entrance. The traveler's eyes focused in one the one man that didn't look over; a tall man with green eyes. He sat alone at a table in the corner. The traveler's heavy steps echoed in the stuffy room. The green eyed man didn’t look up.

The traveller pulled back his blade and thrust it forward. The green eyed man collapsed across the table spilling over his full glass. No one moved. The traveler sheathed his stained weapon and disappeared out into the fog.

A loud scream followed him into the night.

Chapter 1: Mourning Light

The sun hid behind the thick clouds in the overcast sky. It had been three days now of steady rain with hardly a break. A young man with long spindly brown hair sat looking outside the second story window of the inn. He focus was Whiller's Tavern across the street. Raunst was hot on the trail of his father's assassin.

It had been a year since the stranger had appeared and murdered his father in cold blood. Raunst hunted day and night for revenge. His constant search had led him to a band of traders moving their wears north about a month back. He had been told in great detail of a recent transaction the traders had with a figure matching the description he provided. A week ago he had overheard a conversation while resting at an inn. A man told of a cloaked character he had bartered with over some feed for his horse. Raunst had conferred with the man and learned the stranger was headed east. He had followed the trail and now he waited and watched the main road through Narkin and its only tavern.

The weariness of his long ride crept through his muscles. His eyelids fell for a moment, and his frame dropped. The rain came to a sudden halt, he jolted awake.

At that moment a cloaked traveller appeared down the road. Raunst observed as the figure sauntered into the tavern. The dark leather cloak drifted apart offering a glimpse of a shining black object underneath. He collected his sword and dagger and hurried downstairs. He slipped out from the inn onto the loose stone road. Then Raunst entered the tavern.

Several people had plates heaped with stewed potatoes and chicken. Others had only a drink. His eyes drifted from table to table.

They locked in on the cloaked figure. Raunst watched as the stranger removed the cloak. He gasped. Golden brown locks of hair fell down around the shoulders of a feminine figure. He scanned her head to toe. The woman carried a black crystalline saber and adorned a glimmering chain mail vest. If this was not his father's killer, it was certainly an acquaintance. The lady sat, facing away from him.

Raunst's mind collected back to full reason. He started toward the mysterious woman with a nonchalant walk, as if he would pass her by, but as he came upon the table his body moved quickly and he sat firmly in the chair opposite her.

Yes? the woman eyed him, he could see her sizing him up.

You look familiar. Raunst said.

I don’t know you. Her piercing blue eyes met his straight on.

What’s your allegiance? Raunst was determined to spark conversation.

The woman looked over her shoulder then back at Raunst. My allegiance?

Certainly no one wearing a fancy get up such as that does it with a guild backing; unless you are just exuberantly wealthy with poor taste.

Is it local custom to intrude upon a woman’s lunch?

I couldn’t say, I’m not from around here. He placed his hand on the table and waived over the barkeep. He was a stocky fellow with high cheeks and dark hair. Two drinks.

The barkeep escaped with a nod.

I don’t want to drink with you.

I wasn't looking for your permission.

The woman’s soft features narrowed. A small smirk crossed her lips as she leaned forward. It’s not a problem for me to disconnect your tongue if you don’t know how to stop it on your own. She leaned back in her chair.

The threat, though hollow in his mind, pressed his impatience. What do you know of the name Christopher Baltir? The emotion fell from Raunst's face.

She gave a sigh. I don’t know who that is. Can you go now?

I am looking for someone wearing armor similar to yours; a tall man with dark eyes and a scarred face.

And who are you? Her expressive glance when she asked the question seemed to invite him closer.

I am Raunst, Christopher Baltir was my father.

The woman turned her eyes away, quite bored. This really isn’t very interesting.

My father was murdered by the man I speak of. You must know who I mean. The anger in his voice was suppressed only by his chivalry.

I believe it would serve you well to leave your father in your memory and build yourself a life thinking no more of revenge.

I asked if you knew of the man who killed my father, not what you believed was best for me.

I don’t.

The barkeep dropped the drinks on the table; ale spilled over of the sides of both cups and trickled across the grainy wooden surface.

Now take your drinks and go away. With a flick of her wrist, she produced a dagger. She held the weapon just above the table with the point towards Raunst. The small object was unnoticed by the other patrons.

Fine. Fine. Rausnt’s chair screeched as he stood. He carried one of the pints off to the bar. He sat there and huddled over it. He didn’t turn around