FIREFANGED: Demon in Exile

by Rory Surtain

  “More than I need, I'm sure,” I replied with anticipation. “But I can feel the Circles of Hell expanding and contracting as we speak. With two fewer Warlords in play for the High-Prince, the Houses are kindling all sorts of designs and deceit.”

  “The void that remains is yet another kind of catalyst, for sure. But no one knows that better than the Deceiver.”

  “The High-Prince planned this all along?” I asked.

  “Well, it is his Reality, after all, is it not?” Memet answered.

  On this side of the Veil, for sure.

  “So Memet, one thing Hal-Raekorn the Elder never quite grasped is where you fit in this Circus of Hell. Are you a ringmaster or a lion tamer?” I asked, venting my suspicions.

  “Aren’t you the lion tamer?” he chuckled.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Perhaps you can ask Rei-Seeck about it when you see her. Rumors say that Lis-Xiana has sent her into exile,” Memet said, leaving my optimistic mood in shreds.

  Chapter 4

  Of Monsters and Men

  Spending the following night in the town’s jail, I had a cell and a cot all to myself. My forearm was bound in a rigid leather sleeve, from elbow to palm, and my torso was wrapped in a soft, clean cloth. Over that, I wore a plain gray shirt. There wasn’t an emblem on the shirt to denote who owned me like the soldiers outside, but I figured that I wear the Vigil’s mark all the time now. Loeb provided a drink of something to dull the pain when I entered the jail cell, and I slept like a rock until dawn.

  Doctor Loeb arrived shortly after sun-up to examine me, with Sentinel Glenn at his side. Neither looked well-rested, and this somehow made me feel better. I was glad that neither the Bailiff nor his assistants were anywhere to be seen.

  “What the hell is a Kjaira anyway?” I asked, startling Loeb.

  He seemed surprised that I could talk, or maybe that I was talking to him after yesterday’s ordeal. I had to admit that having my arm reset and wrapped had done wonders reducing the constant pain of the past month. I could almost feel it healing now. Loeb finished checking my bandages and fitting a sling around my left arm.

  “How about we get out of here and discuss that over breakfast?” he offered.

  I was all in for that.

  “So, what do I call you?” I asked them both as we walked outside. “Inquisitor? Doctor? Sentinel?”

  “I go by Cornelius,” said Loeb, “Though my function within the Vigil also defines me, so Doctor or Inquisitor also works. I was a Doctor in Stonnberg when Vigil Snow found me. It seems my exceptional ability at healing was related to a kind of clear sight that Vigil Snow mentioned yesterday. It comes in handy when vetting those useful to our cause, or, more commonly, patching them up. It also helps me with sniffing out demons and their corruption.”

  Sentinel Glenn stepped in with “My official name is Sentinel-Captain Broward Glenn. I’m Captain of Vigil Snow’s House Guard. You can take your pick of which names to call me. I’ll not be offended. Just so you won’t be confused, we often use ‘the Vigil’ to refer to the broader Order of the Vigil, while we just use ‘Vigil’ as a title of office for Vigil Snow, the individual.”

  “Ara,” I said, extending my right hand to both. “I'm a bit short on titles or names at the moment, but you can call me ‘Ara the Hungry’ for the time being.”

  We arrived at a local tavern, the Red Horse. It was once a stable but that had burned down decades ago, and the owners rebuilt the site into a broad, one-story drinking and eating establishment. The smells flowing up the kitchen chimney provided all the menu anyone needed. Today we were having pork sausages and fresh bread. It was a popular place, and there were a couple of tables of gray-shirted Sentinels sitting nearby. I swear I recognized several faces from the Mayor’s meeting room last night. Loeb ordered a round of food and tea for the three of us, and we dug in.

  Nearing the end of my breakfast, I pushed the doctor for an answer to my earlier question. “So, what is a Kjaira? And why should I be on the lookout for its sisters?”

  “A Kjaira is a named demonic assassin. I say named because, unlike the lesser demons that we normally face, each Kjaira has a unique name among all the beings in Hell. Each is explicitly known to the Powers there, as any Kjaira would be a threat to their Houses. A Kjaira is always born in litters of six, so there might still be five siblings left to finish its job,” answered the doctor. “And just like this one found you, you can bet that the others already know your scent.

  “The good news is that they are quite rare in our World, and I have never heard of more than one encountered at any given time. The more powerful the demon, the higher the cost to be paid in crossing over from Hell. The chances are quite high that that was the only one sent through the breach with the rest of the Horde. Lis-Xiana’s brood never fails in its mission. How you survived that death-demon’s trap was simply incredible.”

  “I didn’t survive its trap; it was caught in mine,” I corrected him.

  Captain Glenn chuckled, “You underestimate Lis-Xiana’s brood. The Infernal lore we have collected is very clear on this. They have been bred for millennia as highly intelligent hunter-killers and are known to hunt the high-demons back in Hell. Lis-Xiana is a Power solely due to her whelps’ prowess and her willingness to lend them to allies.

  “That demon could sense you from miles away. It had to know you were up in that tree when it landed on your snare. It must have thought that the easiest way to get you down and kill you was to spring your trap, and even trapped as it was, it very nearly finished the job, didn’t it? We don’t know its name, but some do, and they will mourn it in Hell.”

  “And how would one find out its name?” I asked, suddenly curious, the fang a weight around my neck.

  Loeb answered quietly, “The Vigil has in its employ those with the connections and the means to keep watch on the major happenings in the Dark Domain. We use them to predict outbreaks and to track the demons arrayed against us. In time we may know more about that Kjaira.”

  “What do you think I should do with its tooth? If the demons can smell it, maybe that’s a bad thing for me to be wearing around my neck.”

  “Now that is a great question, Ara,” replied Loeb. “Sentinel Glenn can correct my logic here, but assuming the Kjaira already have you marked, and knowing that you will be far more likely to encounter lesser demons here, I would keep it on. Lesser demons will smell the Kjaira and not want anything to do with it. They prefer easier, softer prey. Even a higher-level demon might hesitate unless it had plenty of minions on hand to back it up.”

  Glenn nodded. “Sounds right to me. And heck, if I had earned it, I would wear it with pride.”

  I had been holding back on the more profound pressing questions, trying to work up to them. “It’s been a very rough month for me, and I need to know where this is going. What am I to the Vigil? Or to Vigil Snow? Why are you suddenly treating me with respect after that brutal session last night? And why are so many Sentinels hanging out here, watching over us?” I said, finally stopping to take a breath. The conversations all around us suddenly ceased.

  “We can’t speak for Vigil Snow himself. He will have to explain your position within the Order when he returns from defeating this latest Horde,” answered the Doctor. “As to your last question, I should not be surprised that you noticed the rest of Sentinel Glenn’s squad seated around us. Know that many of them spent the night patrolling around the jailhouse while you slept. You are now a valued member of the Order of the Vigil. That is all I will say on that, and NO, you don’t have a say in the matter. Not even the King’s heir would have a choice, had he killed a Kjaira all by his Royal Self, and survived to share the tale.”

  I offered no argument there. Yesterday had been one torturous act after another, but things were finally looking up. Having spent the past ten years an orphan, with no meaningful path to follow, I could do much worse than having the axe-laden men of the Vigil watch my back.

  At this point,
Glenn jumped in. “Ara, no one has ever survived a Kjaira attack, let alone killed one. Not even Vigil Thorn. I’ve been in the Vigil for fifteen years now. I can tell you that even the smallest hordes can do insurmountable damage to our towns and people if left unchecked. I know you are young, but with some training and the right equipment, you can make a huge difference in the lives of many.”

  We left it there and headed back toward the jailhouse, which was also the Vigil’s temporary outpost in Lockrun while the military campaign against the Horde was underway. I made an essential stop at the Mayor’s mansion, asking my escort to wait outside.

  Cat was at home as I had hoped, and she quickly pulled me into the parlor and sat me down on one of the wooden chairs lining the wall.

  Seeing her anxiety and not wanting her to get too wound up, I jumped in first. “Cat, do you remember the promise that I made to you last month? When I was all mangled from that mountain lion? Well, I need to tell you, as my friend, that while I plan on keeping that promise, I may need to go away from Lockrun to do so.”

  I explained that the Vigil required that I go with them so that they could train me, and that I would be safer and better able to help protect Lockrun, and Cat in particular, in the future. I wasn’t sure she would buy it.

  She didn’t.

  “So, you’re leaving Lockrun with a bunch of new friends and going off to fight demons and get yourself killed, and you think I’ll be fine with that? Who will look out for me after you’re gone, Ara? How will I know that you are alright? You could barely survive a mountain lion, how do they expect you to do more at your age?” she said, making her points.

  I didn’t know what to say to any of those questions. I reached into my shirt and pulled out my dark necklace with its six-inch fang. I handed it to her.

  Her eyes went wide, having never seen it. In a few more seconds, she began to shake with fear, and I began to regret what I had just done to my eleven-year-old friend. Then, Cat surprised me.

  “It wasn’t a mountain lion, was it?” she said, looking cross.

  I shook my head, “No.” She looked at the tooth again, trying to come to grips with it.

  “It was something way, way worse, and that is why the Vigil and their army are here,” she stated.

  I nodded.

  Before Cat could go any further, I said, “That fang is for you. I tore it from the mouth of the beast that night so that I could get it out of my arm. Wear it, and it should protect you from whatever the Vigil is here to fight. Please believe me in this and know that I will be doing all I can to protect you and Sister Kay and Pastor Riley, and your dad and this city.”

  Taking the leather necklace, I adjusted it to fit her smaller size and hung it around her neck. She still trembled with fear, and silent tears rolled down her cheeks. I put my arms around her and tried to convince her that as long as she wore that necklace, she would be fine. I reminded her that she had a birthday coming up next month and that I was proud to be the first to give her a gift. She gave me a smirk that said I wasn’t going to get away with that.

  Going on thirty, indeed.

  A knock on the door a short while later pulled me away. I had an appointment with the Vigil Armorer next. The visit was complicated by the fact that I still had one arm in a sling. I was given a chainmail topcoat, leather for leggings, and steel vambraces for both forearms. The left vambrace was heavier and fitted completely over my rigid leather sleeve. I could now block a demon’s teeth or claws without further damaging my arm, or so I hoped. The right vambrace was a bit lighter due to the double-bladed axe that I would be carrying. I tried out both the lighter and heavier versions of the Vigil’s axes, and I could have used either. After my showdown with the Kjaira, I preferred the somewhat lighter, and certainly faster weapon.

  My trusted hunting knife sat in a sheath on my belt. After retrieving a few things from the rectory, I asked the armorer to build me something new. The Armorer quickly agreed when I handed him the second fang from the dead Kjaira and a bundle of black leather strips, which may or may not have been soaked in my blood. With some careful modifications, he attached the dagger-like tooth to a matching hilt, guard, and pommel and used the dark rawhide to wrap the grip. I could thrust or slash with the hunting knife’s original 10-inch blade, or stab overhand using the fang as a powerful six-inch dagger. He also reconfigured a sheath to hang across my lower back so that I wouldn’t accidentally skewer myself with the exotic blade. Little things can be the difference in survival.

  Well, that and a lot of training.

  While we waited in Lockrun for Vigil Snow, Warden Hartwell, and their contingent to complete the task of engaging the Horde to the north, we trained, and we worked, and we patrolled the town. I was shown the basics of demon-fighting.

  Combat tactics consisted of blocking the initial attacks of a quicker, stronger demon opponent by using a large shield and countering with a deadly chop of some sort. Dual-headed axes were the Order’s weapons of choice, instead of swords, as the demons’ tough hides were much harder to cleave. The common demons of a horde would attack from every angle with a variety of horns, claws, and teeth, overwhelming the Sentinels with their ferocity. The fiends ignored all but the most incapacitating of wounds, and as long a higher-order demon was present to control them, they wouldn’t retreat. The Sentinels used a shield wall of sorts to halt the enemy’s charge, and there was literally Hell to pay if it broke.

  In between training, we worked with the militia on the wall repairs, and I spent four hours a day chopping wood. The daily exercise and regular supply of food that went with it did much to improve my strength and health. Loeb provided a salve to ease the pain of my burns and kept my left arm brace tightly fitted.

  Glenn made it clear that he was under orders to keep me and the city safe while the Horde was still afield. There was always a possibility of demons sneaking into the city to wreak havoc on the citizens. After the first week of training, I convinced Glenn to let me scout the area immediately around Lockrun. He thought that that was a great idea as long as he and a half-dozen Sentinels accompanied me on patrol. The surrounding area was still devoid of the typical wildlife. I trusted my senses to pick up anything dangerous or out of place, but we came up empty that night. I did manage to catch a dozen moon crabs on our way back in. Many of the Sentinels had decent night vision and made a good go of it too.

  The next day I sensed a shift from the hills north of Lockrun. The evil was no longer focused our way but had begun receding. Vigil Snow must have engaged the Horde. The following day I breathed easy for the first time in more than a month. The city around me felt more relaxed, and the day seemed brighter.

  Two weeks after I was abruptly inducted into the Order, the army, or at least what was left of it, led by Vigil Snow and Warden Hartwell, returned through our city. The contingent was significantly reduced, and with few smiles for the town’s citizens. Ganymede was missing one of his brothers, and Sir Tytus was missing two of his. Paladin Byrne looked none the worse for wear, though on closer inspection, his heavy plate armor had many deep scratches and several dents in need of repair.

  Sentinel Glenn, Inquisitor Loeb, and I attended a meeting with the Vigil and Warden Hartwell to hear a report of the battle. The Horde had consisted of five Hell-knights leading a pack of almost five hundred Hellions. It was considered a massive incursion by any measure. Only the demon knights were armed and armored. They carried heavy swords, which, I was told, granted them some control over the lesser demons nearby. Due to the rough terrain, Hartwell had spared the Vigil’s horses, keeping them well to the rear during the battle. Amid uneven ground and a rampaging horde, it cost the mounted elite too much effort to control their steeds and weapons at the same time.

  The fight had begun with the heavy plated paladins and knights holding the center of the line on foot against the Dark Horde’s claws. The Duke’s spearmen held the flanks just long enough for the Vigil’s axemen to counter-attack with their vicious axes laying into the engaged
mass of demons. The Hell-knights had led from the rear, as expected, driving their minions forward in a vicious mass. Once the battle was wholly joined by both sides, the King’s Realm Guard, which had remained mounted in reserve, attacked around the left flank and into the rear of the Enemy’s forces. It was their job to take down the Hell-knights and, in doing so, they had won the battle. The lesser demons fell into confusion as the last demon leader was torn apart by the rampaging Ganymede.

  Days were spent hunting down many of the scattered demons, tending to the wounded, and burying the dead. At the same time, Vigil Snow and his men also scoured the battlefield for any relics or identifiable weapons. The armor and signature swords of the Hell-knights had rapidly disintegrated upon their bearer’s demise. During the battle, their shields were emblazoned with the sign of the Poison Oak. While Vigil records would be further checked to confirm the matter, Loeb was sure that was the sigil of Infernal House Maltheus. The name sounded familiar to me, but I wasn’t sure why. Had I dreamt of the name?

  As the surviving army marched back through town, the Mayor announced that the Vigil had won a great victory in the Everest foothills and that Lockrun was now considered safe. Still, the militia would continue to lock the gates at night, and the predominantly timber walls would be kept in good condition for the safety of all. I am sure the Mayor had seen Cat’s tooth and was sufficiently motivated. I didn’t mind his extra caution at all.

  It was my first view of war or at least its threats and consequences. These soldiers had lost friends and brothers to the Dark Horde. They had done their job, and the city was spared the worst. Now it was my turn to do mine.

  Bar Sinister

  Forbidden crossings

  “I am in exile. I am locked away in here,” I complained to Memet.

  “Don’t confuse yourself with Hal-Noire, who is truly locked in. You exist in two different places at once, but not separately. It is all to your advantage. Your self-survival is shared, and your growth is multiplied.”