Quest For Adrenaline: Chronicles Of An Adventure Junkie – “We never steal children. We just split them. An eye for an eye, a child for a child.”
Aiden stomped down the narrow forest path, avoiding being tripped up by the roots and trying not to think too much about where he and Corson were going. The crossroads on the desolate pine ridges, just past the territory owned by the witch, Baba Yaga. And way too close to demon territory.
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At least Corson was here. A clean and effective fighter with a solid punch and sword.
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“Do you think if we run into Baba Yaga she’ll avoid turning me into a frog if I ask nicely?”
“If you ask nicely, maybe she’ll turn you into a prince,” Aiden joked. Corson was certainly handsome enough. He always looked like he was coming off a movie set with his fringe long enough to show the wave in his dark hair.
Aiden’s laughter died. Survival was what this mission was all about. Last week, a group of demons almost broke through the village’s defenses. If the attacks continued and they couldn’t defend themselves sufficiently against the stone-clad monsters, little
The settlement of New Avondale would have to be abandoned. A shock to Burcham and the Community and all the people who lived there, as well as Aiden and his parents who used it as a temporary base.
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“I’ve heard there is no better fighter than the Swordmaster,” Aiden replied, changing the subject. “With his swords, we will be less vulnerable to demon attack. He nodded. This sword master would no doubt be the tall strong warrior type who would call him Red, or Carrot Top. And be a total condescending bastard. He shrugged. Sometimes in life you had to suck it up. “I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of turning all my swords into twisted iron hilts on these demons. It would be better for me to hit them with a sledgehammer … now that’s a thought.”
The day passed, footstep by footstep, mile by mile. Carefully quiet, to avoid announcing their presence to the evil spirits, the townspeople along the way, and the bandits who attended. Nottingham Forest and Witch’s Place held two of the most notorious distances.
By mid-afternoon the thick forest of Brocéliande had thinned. In the distance you could see the pink Dornröschenschloss castle roses. The path was little more than broken rock along a rugged cliff, held together by gnarled pines that groped the barren rock with their swollen roots.
Corson looked to his left. Down in the ravine below was a ramshackle cottage nestled in a small dirt clearing. “Is this Baba Yaga’s hut?”
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“I hope not.” Aiden shrugged, hoping the large creamy brown shells scattered around the hut weren’t skulls. He walked faster. “Best not to find out.” Wait a minute? Do you think this is the place?” A broken signpost lay on the ground—a new hole where it had been dug out of the rocky ground. The cracked and broken signs had once pointed the way to Dornröschenschloss Castle, the wóthbora cotif and Market Town, and the Deadlands and the Underworld.
“I think so.” He waved his hand down the slope to the sulfur pools and the mountains ahead. “Probably the trail is down to the underworld and I don’t want to get any closer.”
Aiden turned around. A great marble demon towered over Corson. Calcite crystals caught the light in the smooth white-and-grey-striped skin. But as beautiful and statuesque as the demon was, it was even more deadly.
“Watch out!” Aiden drew his sword and sprinted down the path towards the demon as he threw a marble fist at Corson’s face.
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Corson turned and pulled himself down, the blow slicing through his hair. He sprung up and smashed his sword into the demon’s jaw.
Aiden slipped on the broken stone of the steep cliff path and smashed the creature’s chest. The blade crashed into the creature’s stone-like skin with a sound that echoed up his arm.
The creature lunged back at Corson and punched him in the stomach. He grunted and staggered back.
“I’ll take care of it!” Aiden continued hacking at the marble demon. The demon, refusing to be sidetracked, followed up with another strike. Corson bent down and the demon’s fist looked at his ribs.
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Aiden flinched as the sword sailed past him and clung to the feathery skin of a three-legged demon that had been sneaking up behind him.
Corson’s sword bounced off the demon’s rock-hard skin, flew over the edge of the narrow path, and clattered to the bottom.
“Shit,” Aiden called. He ran to join Corson, now fighting without a sword. But the fissure demon put his weapon to Aiden’s chest. Aiden jumped to the side and the demon followed—as fast as ever and with barely a scratch.
Aiden charged at the demon’s face and bent the blade. He turned away. The demon followed and he slashed at him again – putting all his weight into the move. The sound echoed and pain numbed his hand and radiated up his arm. Stone torn. Small crack. Boiling hot magma-like blood surged up to seal the crack. A thread of sulfur split the air.
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Aiden gripped the handle and looked at Corson, who ducked behind a gnarled old pine a hair’s breadth ahead of the other demon.
Omur brought him back to his senses. “Pitiful man,” screamed the triangle. “Enough playing. Time to die.”
Aiden smacked the creature on the side of the head with a laugh, slashing his blade and not damaging the demon at all. He ran back again.
With Corson unarmed and injured, Aiden had to stop everything to win this battle quickly. He blocked the triangle, stepped within its reach, and swung with all his might.
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The blow hit the creature’s face. The skin cracked wider and a gush of hot magma-like blood snarled against the sword.
Anger flooded Aiden. He raised his sword and charged at the disc demon, making a wild attack. Using the demon’s momentum, he pulled the trident from his fingers and ran towards Corson, who was backed up against the trunk of a giant pine clinging to the edge of the steep slope.
“Are you coming to join the fun?” Corson asked, blood trickling down his nose. He threw a stone at the marble demon’s face.
Aiden didn’t waste his breath trying to be cute. He struck the marble demon and stepped beside Corson.
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“Sorry.” Corson gasped, gasping for breath. “I cornered us a bit.
Aiden rained blow after blow on the heads and shoulders of both demons. Corson slammed the thrice over the marble demon’s head. It shattered into splinters. Steaming demonic blood ran down its face.
Corson’s arm shot out and grabbed a marble-skinned shoulder. His leg hooked behind the demon’s calf. It tumbled and tumbled forward towards the edge of the cliff. Running… as he fell, the demon’s scream of hatred faded as he tumbled down the steep slope.
“Fine!” Aiden screamed as the last demon pounced on him. Aiden walked over and kicked it out.
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“Nice try.” Corson hurried to push the demon. A fist slammed into Corson’s stomach, Corson was thrown backwards into the tree and stood there—prostrated over gnarled old roots.
It stepped forward and used its strength and weight to get close to Corson. Desperate, Aiden decided to take a leaf out of Corson’s playbook. He walked up close, kicked his opponent’s shin and pushed.
Aiden ran right out. His hand tingling and numb, he struck the demon’s head, the sound as loud as any bell. He forced himself to continue—once, twice, three times.
The demon staggered closer. The smell of sulfur hung heavy in the air as hot demonic blood flowed from many cracks. It stepped up and wrapped its arms around him, dripping molten magma onto Aiden’s shoulders. The superheated stone snarled through his jacket, burning his skin like liquid fire.
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With a grunt, Aiden ran from the demon’s grasp and thrashed with abandon, gritting his teeth at the pain and turning back to Corson who was struggling to stand.
The demon slowed, like a drip and a hum of his burning blood. An eye-popping mist of brimstone rises from its wounds.
Aiden’s arm convulsed and struggled to hold the blade, putting all his strength into one more blow from his scorched and twisted weapon.
Aiden turned back and the demon exploded and shattered into half-molten rock. Aiden, pelted by hot debris and shards of disc, ignored the sting of the falling rock to check on his friend.
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Corson stood up from behind the steaming pile of rock that had been the disk demon, clutching his stomach and very much alive.
Corson tried to smile. “Me? I’m just crazy. Be like rain in a minute. It’s all about the muscles.” He bent his arm. “But this sword of yours is toast. Unless you picked up the iron railing and your sword fell somewhere nearby.”
“No,” Corson said, kicking the broken intersection sign. “We need the new swordsmith to show up. But we shouldn’t wait here any longer, we are like ducks here on the border waiting for him to come.”
“We can’t go,” Aiden said, flinching
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