Demon Eye

by B B Reed

  Eyes dancing between her two hosts, and nerves continuing to wind tighter, Halena hazarded a guess and grabbed the fork on the inside of the dining placement. Coupled with a dull butter knife, she began awkwardly tucking into her food, finding difficulty in cutting around the bones jutting out from the rack of lamb. She made steady progress into her meal with her untrained methods.

  Inka watched Halena for a moment, noticing her slouched posture and fumbling with the silverware. She dabbed her lips off with a napkin and cleared her throat before getting her attention, “I think you might have an easier time cutting if you used the serrated knife, Halena.”

  She glanced up, eying the sharp knife in Inka’s fingers, then down to her set of tools around the plate, finding the same knife plainly in front of her. Her cheeks flared with rosy color, and she nodded, “Ah, apologies, I didn’t see it…”

  Entertained cackling erupted from Lady Ravenwood, threatening to make Halena’s cheeks radiate hotter in embarrassment. Her smile did not mock, instead remaining warm, “Relax, dear, I’m nearing my mid-fifties and I still don’t see the need for all of the silverware. Fortunately, my arm has allowed me a shortcut at dinnertime.”

  Inka joined in with her own snickering, “Only the forks and spoons to remember, thanks to Dorian.”

  The butler’s face remained impassive through the wisecracking, maintaining a shadow over his charge. Jeanne set her fork aside and cleansed her palate with a sip of yet more wine, “I imagine this must be quite different from a meal at a cozy inn. Tell me, where do you come from, Halena?”

  Amidst chewing a fatty morsel of lamb, she opened her mouth, “Wu—“ She stopped herself, swallowing her mouthful and continued, “The woodlands to the west.”

  “Near the Cabral shores?” Inka inquired.

  Halena’s response was deadpan and she shook her head, “No, there weren’t any whaleroads where I came from. Just deep, thick woods that stretched for miles and miles around my aunt’s cottage.”

  Inka’s eyebrows quirked, eyes shifting to Jeanne. Lady Ravenwood tapped a finger against her cheek thoughtfully, studying Halena, “Curious. You didn’t come from a village or travel merchant highways with family?”

  “No, I never traveled until I left on my own. My aunt raised me and taught me.” Halena answered, building tension from the questions keeping her still.

  “What made you take to the roads and become a wanderer looking for spirits and mad sorcerers?” Inka tilted her head.

  Halena shrugged, her answer simple, “I came of age. It was time for me to learn my own lessons instead of following my aunt’s instruction.”

  Jeanne tutted, satisfied enough with the answer, “Very interesting. Pray those lessons serve you well when I send you out for your trial.”

  Halena set her silverware down and folded her hands in her lap, “You never told me what you would have me do.”

  Lady Ravenwood snickered upon receiving Halena’s incredulous gaze, “Yes, it appears we’ve gotten a little side-tracked, but I had not forgotten.” She reached for her wine glass, giving it a lazy swirl, “I have had some trouble on my estate grounds that has been left at the wayside while I’m busy with my Ministry duties. I’m not as young as I used to be and you are the perfect person to carry out this duty for me.”

  Halena leaned in with anticipation for Jeanne’s request, making the middle-aged noblewoman grin. She reached into the breast pocket of her doublet to retrieve a silver crest, resembling the coat of arms in the foyer, “Not far off from here, there are holy grounds that my family has tended to for generations. This crest was taken down to be cleaned and mended, and it needs to be returned to its rightful place.”

  Halena’s jaw went slack at the underwhelming request, eyes jumping between Jeanne and the crest in her hands in confusion, “That… That’s it? My lady, that doesn’t sound like a proper test of my skills. This is truly all you’d have me do?”

  “I don’t believe I stuttered a moment ago.” Lady Ravenwood shrugged, sliding the crest across the table to her guest with a calm smile. Her gaze never broke, however, waiting to see her official response.

  With some hesitation, Halena picked the trinket up, turning it in her fingers, “Where is this grove?”

  “There is a path that leads into the woods at the edge of the backyard. Once you’re done with dinner, you can head out there. Finish swiftly and you won’t have to sleep in the cold.” Lady Ravenwood chortled, tipping her glass back to wet her dark lips with wine.

  Had she misheard? She looked across to Inka, who kept her head down, casting sidelong glances up to the noblewoman.

  “You’re certain this can’t wait until morning?” Halena asked.

  Dorian’s deep voice rolled over the dinner table as he answered with calm directness, “Lady Ravenwood does not operate a boarding house. Only staff and special guests invited by my lady are allowed to overnight in the estate guest rooms. You are Inka’s guest, not Lady Ravenwood’s.”

  Halena held her breath while trapped in the enormous butler’s indifferent gaze, then looking back to Inka to see her shoulders tense and lips form a thin line. Jeanne tipped her head to Halena, “There you have it. As I said, you are considered employed if you do me this favor. Dorian will show you to the woods path when you’re ready.”

  The noblewoman offered a pleasant smile and removed her napkin from her collar, “Inka, speak to me in my study when you’re finished.”

  Inka nodded as Lady Jeanne took up her cane to make her exit, “Yes, Lady Ravenwood.” She looked up to Halena, worry lines creasing her features in a silent apology to her before departing after her.

  Halena sat in silence, watching the pair go off into the mansion’s depths, dumbfounded and holding the silver crest in her fingers. She looked up to the mountainous butler watching her with arms folded behind his back and cleared her throat. Her eyes regarded the cooling plate left mostly intact before her with regret and she pushed her seat back, “Uhm… I’m finished eating. Thank you for the delicious meal.”

  Dorian’s eyes lift to one of the estate staff on standby by the pantry, waving them over to begin cleaning the table. His footsteps clicked gently, but the floorboards protest with each step as he made for the dining hall’s doors, “If you would follow me, Miss Maris.”

  She followed Lady Ravenwood’s butler, slinging her bag across her chest. The man passed a standing rack, taking Halena’s dirty cloak and passing it off to her before continuing through the long decadent halls of the mansion. He guided her around to the opposite wing deeper into the compound until they reached the rear porch. Dorian grabbed a large tarp of cloth from the rack near the door, throwing it around his shoulders and ushering Halena outside with him, “Come.”

  The pair crossed the dark yard, illuminated by the scant amount of light pouring out of the mansion’s windows to the coach house where Dorian finds a lantern to burn. He took a simple pole with a hook to hang the lantern, holding it over their heads and taking the lead down a neat path. Halena could see little beyond the perimeter of the lantern’s light as Dorian lumbered onward into the darkness. The overcast clouds did not relent, shrouding the moon’s glow as well. His eyes remained forward in his persistent march into the dark yard, making the yellow lantern light sway with his gait.

  The lumbering man flashed a glance over his wide shoulder to her, “If you are serious about joining the Ravenwoods, try to be done before daybreak. My light ends at the beginning of the path and you will go the rest of the journey on your own.”

  Her brow knit together, returning a solemn nod, “I see. No help whatsoever?”

  Dorian answered with a grunt, the lantern light reflecting something metallic in the distance. Iron bars of the property’s fence are revealed by the yellow glow, the arch of an old gate taking shape as the lantern light draws near. Manicured hedges framed the portal, untamed wild plants barely held back by the iron fence. Dorian set the lantern pole aside, anchoring it to an iron boot in the dirt, and rifled in
his pockets for a key ring. His large fingers nimbly sorted through the jingling keys until the right one was procured, inserting the head into the black lock of the gate. A loud protesting squeak and rattling upset the silence of the night as Dorian forced it open, standing by and waiting for Halena, “This is your last chance. Will you fulfill my lady’s request or shall I escort you out to the road and send you away?”

  Halena stared into the black abyss waiting for her, nerves winding tightly together. She glanced down at the silver crest in her fingers, brushing her thumb over the fine details worked into the metal. Her ears rumbled, a threatening growl filling her head as words welled up within.

  Do it. Go, go swiftly. Embrace the dark, as you were born to! You can’t fight it, follow your instincts. Hunt! Hunt! Do it, go!

  She inhaled a deep breath to regain focus through the tumbling storm of words rattling in her mind. “Yes. Yes, I’ll do it.”

  She gave a curt nod, despite her faint trembling and kept her eyes forward. Halena passed through the gate down into the wooded path, soon hearing the iron gate squeak closed behind her, punctuated with the click of the lock.

  VIII

  The Resting Grounds

  Night fell and Halena returned inside to mind her aunt’s preparations and eat. Her mind could not wander away from the coming rite of passage. After the stroke of midnight, the moon hung high in the night sky, casting its brilliant silver light through the open window down onto the floor, and illuminating the careful arrangement painstakingly prepared by Saris and her acolyte. Halena sat on her knees and struggled to keep her mind focused. Saris muttered and chanted an incantation under her breath, the guttural tongue of another language, and meticulously drew with white chalk on the floorboards of the cottage. Inside a pentagram arrangement of black candles, two large chalk circles encased the girl. After tense waiting, Saris finished inscribing the final sigil within the circles on the floor and rose to her feet to fetch the caged raven.

  The shrill cry of the bird sent shivers up Halena’s back, the raven’s fretting ignored by the elder witch. Hanging from Saris’ free hand, the lustrous sheen of a curved ritual knife glimmered in the dim candlelight. The ornately carved handle was offered to her niece, instructing her, “Take this, you will be adding the raven’s blood to your potion as the final ingredient and drinking it when I reach the third and final verse of the incantation. Then, you will be a true Necromancer as I am.”

  Halena swallowed a lump in her throat and took the knife, glancing between the cage and the small pot in front of her. Saris turns away, her ghostly robe fluttering and bone jewelry clattering with her stride, grabbing her thick, worn spell tome from the book shelf. She delivers a stern order to her niece while plucking through the musty pages, “Be done with it, child.”

  Quickly, she reached for the door of the cage and opened it. The raven protested, crying and beating its wings. The bird’s cries only made Halena’s hands shake worse. Her teeth worried into her bottom lip as she tore the bird from the cage. Halena winced, pitying the bird’s struggle in her grasp, its wriggling and desperate flailing causing her heart to thump in her ears. The bird was pinned on its back and the knife’s edge brought under its beak, the apprentice twitching at the pinches of its sharp beak nipping at her knuckles. One forceful jerk of her hand severed the bird’s head from the rest of its body. Blood welled up on the floorboards and she turned the bleeding open neck upside down over the pot. Her hands trembled as she gave the body a squeeze to make the blood gush and flow freely. The iron aroma mixed with the herbal scents held a hypnotic effect, her nerves calming as the pot filled. With the cries and struggle over, she let out a huff of spiteful relief. Halena’s hands relaxed their grip and she set the dead bird’s body aside, then stirred the mixture with her index finger. The shock of killing the raven numbed away in the back of her mind as she watched the mixture turn with her finger, strangely calming with each round of her crimson-stained digit.

  ◆◆◆

  The path was thick with sticks and tickling fronds of ferns, making it difficult to move swiftly through the hug of darkness. Her ears rang from her traveler’s excitement and she hissed through the discomfort, “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

  Such richnessss… These woods are rife with essence. The smell, undeniable. A perfect time to pay me back what’s owed.

  “What’s owed? You know our deal. I feed you when we deal with others of your kind.” Halena growled, pushing through troublesome branches blindly.

  Noble souls dwell here, frail flesh. Pay attention, and we may trade evenly.

  She stumbled through the barrier of twigs, the claustrophobic path providing some relief. The vegetation was less suffocating in this part of the woods and she looked around, attempting to make sense of the shapes in the dark, “Something is off about these woods… But I’m making no trades. We trade when people are helped from danger.”

  The invisible needles in the back of her neck twisted and burned, the presence attached to her wrapping around her like a serpent.

  Tempted by the fattening perks of a higher caste. Practicing to be a noble’s lap dog?

  Her teeth ground together in irritation, but Halena refused to acknowledge the shadow’s presence. She reached out to touch the trunk of a tree, feeling her way around its base as she pursued down the path.

  Your constant worries for material wealth and a meal to eat have made you forget, frail flesh. You belong to me, only allowed to borrow my power so long as you satisfy me.

  “I belong to nobody.” Halena hissed back in a hushed voice. She winced as an explosion of cackling laughter echoes in her thoughts. The noise suddenly stopped and a shriek cracked through her skull. She buckled to her knees, cradling her forehead as her eyes watered from the jolt of pain.

  You will not deny me again! This is a trifling task for you, I am owed after your carelessness with the would-be lich! A new contract has been struck and you will pay in full!

  “You insufferable… Fine.” She groaned, sniffling back the flustered rush from her nose and wiped her eyes. With her concession, the shadowy grip slowly uncoiled itself from her shoulders, fading to the recesses of her mind. A few deep breaths to make the ground stop its vibrations and she noticed a faint glow from her bag on the ground. She reached inside, finding the source of the light to be the soul stone within. Uncovering the cloth from around the rough-cut prisms, the darkness faded with the cold light radiating from the stone.

  Halena blinked at the swirling surface of the prisms, “You didn’t do this in Brighthall… Why now?”

  I would not lie to you, frail flesh. The stone agrees. The air here is thick with spirits.

  Halena got to her feet and held the stone up, looking around at the illuminated branches and path. Weathered, old stones peeked through the moss and leaf litter, stretching deeper into the woods. Satisfied with her improvised light source, she stepped onto the walking stones, following them towards her destination. She rubbed her temple, head still aching from the outburst that wracked her mind. The hair on the nape of her neck remained standing on end and she felt a familiar sensation hang thick in the area. Her heart quivered as she anticipated pangs of anguish to pass through her, but nothing came. Only a shiver coursed over her shoulders from the chilling light she held.

  “Spirits are here, but…” She muttered, “…There’s no pain. Not like in Brighthall.”

  The sensation of being watched lingered alongside the spiritual aura she followed. The fluttering of bird wings in the boughs above made her shoulders hunch in unease. A loud cry pierced the darkness and the frantic beating of wings swooped over Halena. She gasped and ducked, startled by the noise, then raised her cold light to the would-be attacker. Skipping along the stones, a pitch-black raven as large as a cat stopped in the middle of the path. The bird’s feathers were unkempt, and its beak chipped, but its pale blue eyes stand out against the night. Halena squinted at the raven, convinced the darkness and supernatural light was pl
aying tricks on her eyes. The two maintain eye contact for a long moment. The bird tilted its head and jeered before flapping to take off into the shadows ahead. She took off after the raven, “Wait!”

  The sound of frantic beating of the raven’s wings drew Halena deeper, the curled fingers of branches ahead thinning out, the woods growing hollow until the surrounding trees were barren of leaves. She made a desperate run after the blue-eyed raven, stone held up to light her way. Her traveler grumbled in her ears.

  Feeling homesick?

  “It’s a familiar. It has to be! Those eyes…”

  Halena watched it rise in the sky and swoop down, landing on a tall slab of stone sitting at the back of a clearing. She lowered the glowing soul stone, quickly losing interest in the raven as she took in the arcane site before her. Numerous worn headstones speckled the clearing around her, the carved epitaphs on their faces eroded away. The immense monolith the raven sat atop loomed over the rest like a silent watcher, shaped as a great tombstone itself. The chill of spirits washed around her, the emptiness of the yard intimidating. Her fingers tightened around the stone in her hands, a pit welling up in her stomach. Faint sighs passed around her, though where they came from could not be determined.

  “Serve…”

  The sound dry and distant. Empty footsteps drew nearer and Halena clutched her light source close to her chest. Mist took shape as soon as the presence touched the cold light, the transparent image of a leather boot manifesting. The shambling form of a torso and tattered coat follows, decrepit and decayed, sunken eyes looked at Halena through the strange light.