by Rory Surtain
“No, thank you and your friends here for playing the sheep. It was a perfect ambush, no losses on our side, and we took a dozen more demons off the mountain for good.”
“Goat. Sentinel Gunner Trew is the goat,” I said, nodding his way. And this is Sentinel Hicks. They are my personal guard.”
“More Sentinel Scouts?” she asked.
“No, not yet anyway, but they are some alpha-level recruits.”
Most of the dark elves dispersed as Lorna and her guard led us into Bastian. It was a huge city built mainly of stone, from the thirty-foot-tall curtain wall to the inner castle and keep structures.
The Valley of Bastian was a logical site for the reclusive elves to build. The valley itself was ten miles wide and ran almost 30 miles deep, north to south. It provided easy access to stone all around it, and I was confident that many of the caves in the area began their lives as mines or quarries for the city. There was also plenty of timber and pastureland and a large lake that covered the northern third of the valley. If not for the present ring of demons, it would be a perfect spot for a small, reclusive kingdom.
We were soon safely settled in a remote wing of the Royal Keep. It had been an exhausting end to a rough four days, and we were all ready to sleep. I was given a private room, with Hicks and Gunner sharing one next door. Lorna had stuck around to speak with me in private.
“May I see your talisman,” she asked, with a knowing smile.
I lifted it out of my shirt, holding it up, but keeping its leather necklace looped around my neck. Lorna reached out and touched the silver disc for a few seconds.
“Welcome, brother,” she smiled. Then she reached up and gave me a warm embrace.
What was I supposed to do? I hugged her back.
“And how is Andy getting along living south of the Everest range these days?” she continued.
“I’d say that he’s had his work cut out for him, but things are going well,” I answered. “That’s why I’m here.”
“How is your Betrothed?” she asked.
“I wasn’t sure she would survive her broken heart, but giving her strong connections to hold her in place has helped a lot.”
“And you? How do you feel about things?”
“Confused, yet certain. I’m not so sure of my present standing in many ways, but I know how I feel about Raven. We fought our way here so that she could have a better chance at living and regaining what was lost.”
“And your plans in Bastian?”
“My plans involve your shamans and removing certain threats to those under my protection. If King Ylamil has time, I would love to meet with him as well and discuss how to eliminate the presence of demons around the Valley.”
“You would have to be completely discrete about certain topics, but meeting my father may prove helpful in getting the attention of the shamans. And it would be a pleasant surprise for him, so let’s plan on breakfast in the Royal Quarters first thing in the morning.”
“Can I bring my guards?”
“Certainly, bring all three. They can eat in the kitchen.”
“Three?” I asked.
She walked to my door, opening it onto the back of a waiting sentry. “Yser, please come in.”
To my surprise, in strode a young female dark-elf with an air of self-confidence. I noticed her lithe, graceful form, and the dark blade strapped across her back. She was tall for a dark-elf, a few inches taller than Lorna, with darker skin and wavy hair that was completely white. Exotic didn’t even begin to describe her. Her self-assured demeanor whispered a challenge as she looked me over, a bored predator taking in new surroundings.
“Ara, meet Yseria. Using your terms, she would be considered an alpha of the Royal Guard. Only my cousin Andarion can beat her in a duel, and with him being indisposed elsewhere, we’ve had a bit of friction with the other Guards here. Your status demands we provide a Royal Guard, and I can think of no better place for Yser now than at your side.”
“And by friction, you mean events leading to stays in the infirmary?” I said, beginning to understand where this was going.
Lorna nodded. Yser met my eyes with defiance.
“Is she of royal blood?” I asked, interested in her House.
“No, she’s from the line of Warric, not Ylamil,” Lorna provided. “And that is much of the problem. You can ask her about her family history when you get the chance. She is the last of her line.”
That statement pulled the smile from Yseria’s face.
“Yseria Warric, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, offering my hand. “I’m not sure that I’ll be making many friends during my visit here and am grateful to have your protection.”
Yseria just nodded. I watched her resume her post outside.
Turning back to Lorna, I said, “We have much more to discuss, and tomorrow will certainly be an interesting day.”
Chapter 15
Harbor a devil
Breakfast began well. The lake trout with mushrooms was delicious. Along with the fresh bread and hot coffee, I felt ready for the day. My goal being to leave Bastian as soon as possible, the day after next, at the latest, we would need to get many things sorted today. Extending our stay would only put my companions and me at further risk and make us late for the Order’s promotion ceremony.
I sat next to Lorna at the far end of a rather long table, suitable for twenty, but only seating seven this morning. My guards ate at a small side table nearby. Hicks and Gunner seemed to be all right with their new cohort, both men enthralled by the decidedly confident and exotic Yseria.
Next to Lorna was her older sister Tamira, and then King Janis Ylamil himself. The King was a frail-looking fellow with gray eyes and white hair. I was told that dark elves aged much slower than humans, often living as old as two hundred years or more, but I hadn’t a guess as to his real age. He had outlived three different wives over the years. They had all succumbed during childbirth. Raven’s human mother had been considered a Royal Consort instead of a wife and Queen.
Across from King Ylamil was one of the King’s sons, Jhute, and his wife, Phaedra. On the far side of the King was Khamros, High Shaman of Bastian, and Chief Counselor to the King. He was also the King’s younger brother by many decades. He looked middle-aged to me. I was the odd man out here, and the family conversation flowed quietly past as if I weren’t there. Lorna had already filled me in on the perceptiveness of the King and the dark elves in general. My presence and its meaning, well some of it, had been discerned from the moment we sat down to eat.
Nearing the end of the meal, Lorna finally stood up and formally introduced me as a demon-hunter from the Order of the Vigil in the Kingdom of Colivar. The mention of the word demon seemed a terrific conversation starter and diverted attention away from other more sensitive topics. The fact that I sat at the Royal Family table also meant something, but this was left unremarked.
“What brings you north to our city?” asked King Ylamil. “It has been decades since I’ve met with a Colivarian delegation.”
“I'm here to help with your demon problem,” I offered. “And maybe do some trading.”
Khamros interjected, “It is the duty of the Brethren in the Shamanic Order to protect the city of Bastian from the demons that plague us. You may find that I am a bit curious as to how someone so young as yourself could possibly help.”
I looked to Lorna, biting back my first answer.
“With Ara’s assistance, we estimate that twenty demons were killed last night on the southern edge of the valley,” she said. “Without any losses on our side.”
“And how many demons have you killed, Ara?” asked Khamros.
“Ten,” I answered. “But I haven’t been at it all that long. And I was severely wounded for much of the time,” I said, showing off my left arm’s leather brace.
“Forgive me if that doesn’t fill me with great confidence,” Khamros chuckled in retort. “We’ve got hundreds of the fiends to destroy.”
“You als
o mentioned trading,” said the King, keeping to the point of my visit.
“I’m here to do some trading that I hope is beneficial to us all,” I said as I pulled out the silver talisman from under my shirt. “One weapon for another.”
Khamros’ eyes narrowed at the sight of it, and then he looked at the King. “And who gave him that, Sire?”
“I did,” Ylamil answered without hesitation. “Now, are you going to listen to what he has to offer?”
Khamros finally nodded at me, clearly miffed at being out of the loop on my status. “Go on.”
“I see a city under siege here. You have a valley surrounded by lesser devils that roam freely from the numerous caves in the area. Your walls here are strong but leave most of the valley unprotected. We killed twenty last night, but, as Khamros said, I would guess a couple hundred more are scattered around the valley. All of those are likely being controlled by a few higher-order demons hidden away nearby. Otherwise, over time, most of the demons would have wandered off on their own in search of more easy prey,” I said, offering my opinion. “Do you have any idea of the source of this infestation or why Bastian is a target?”
Lorna didn’t wait for Khamros to respond. “We presume one of the nearby mines is a source as the demon’s numbers are always being replenished. As to why, well, I will leave that to Khamros or the King to answer.”
The conversation was fast becoming interesting, though the thought of a cave full of demons was a nightmare in the making. I looked at the King.
Ylamil began, “The history of the dark elves has been one of scheming, violence, and betrayal. We have always been better enemies than allies, even to our elven brethren in other cities. Bastian is one result of this, being tucked away in these mountains with limited outside contact. For centuries we have lived in relative peace.
“That all changed about five years ago, shortly after a delegation from the northern Kingdom of Niantia arrived on a not so diplomatic mission. Our border with Niantia is only twenty miles farther north from our valley, where the mountains end and a great region of plains begins. Their King has decided that having a foreign city so close to their southern border was a threat. They offered a treaty in exchange for numerous concessions on our side, including the holding of Ylamil Royal family hostages. Keeping things short, they were refused, and they left with vague threats against us and our valley.”
Khamros now jumped in, “A few months later, the first demon sightings occurred, and the problem continued to grow. The ability of our military, while formidable against the soldiers of other realms, is not fit or trained to fight the demons. As elves, we don’t have the physical mass to hold them back in a pitched battle. Also, the demon’s ability to ignore anything but a killing wound means that our losses were always heavy in any attempt to eliminate them. Our vigilance and stone walls have helped keep them out of the city, but they have an ever-growing stranglehold on our Kingdom.
“Bastian’s shamans have searched for the source of the demons, and we believe that we have located it. There is a large mine to the northeast where we traced Infernal magics. We assume it is the source. That mine must contain a portal or some object for the demons to use to enter our domain. Unfortunately, any attempt to investigate on-site has proven deadly for us. Over the past few years, the demons have grown bolder, and we have grown more desperate for any weapons that could turn the tide and allow us to eradicate this blight from our lands.”
“And that is why I'm here,” I said. “You seek to claim the power of a Kjaira to wield in this fight. I now understand your motivation and offer an alternative weapon. Something better than a Kjaira.”
And here the King’s interest spiked, “And what is that, Ara?”
“Me.”
“And what would you want in return?” he asked.
“This, and its connection to your House,” I said, again showing him the disc on my leather necklace. “I want your daughter’s Decree of Exile to be fully rescinded.”
“Before we go any further with this, before we risk any lives, or make any decrees, I demand that we test Ara. We must have proof of his capabilities,” said Khamros. “He claims he is superior to a Kjaira. How are we to believe that he’s truly the weapon that we need?”
“How did you determine that the King’s youngest daughter was a Kjaira?” I asked Khamros in return.
“We did a shamanic reading and found her spirit to be corrupted,” he replied.
“A child born of the King corrupted? Then why wasn’t she killed at birth?” I said, anger swelling within. “Why harbor a devil for so long?”
“She was clean at birth. Of that, I am certain. It was only very recently that the Kjaira was noticed,” explained Khamros. “We don’t know how or why evil spirits enter our world, but some take up homes with the living to further their existence. As a member of the Order of the Vigil, you must know this.”
“What does this have to do with the Order?” I asked, not liking the direction that this was taking.
“The Order has long practiced the marking of their powerful members to claim outright ownership and protect them from the outside influence of evil entities.”
From my startled expression, they could see that I recognized the truth in Khamros’ words.
“Do you agree to this shamanic testing before proceeding further?” King Ylamil asked.
“Yes. Can we start right now?” I said, pulling out my war knife and placing it on the table in front of me.
The smirk melted from Khamros’ face.
Royal Shaman Palypsos was not what I expected. I guess I should have realized my misconceptions upon meeting his boss, the aristocratic and well-dressed Khamros. I was in an underground room at the castle, moisture and mildew filling my senses. I expected fires and incense and a cauldron boiling away in the corner, maybe some sort of exotic ritual. Instead, I sat in a sturdy chair across from Palypsos, who wore simple attire, in an unremarkable room. My three bodyguards leaned against the far wall as witnesses. Khamros was also present along with a small Royal scribe named Oeil. This scene felt more like a meeting with a clerk than a shaman. What did I know about devil magic? Obviously, very little.
“I’d certainly be waving a colorful something or other if this process had anything to do with our world,” Palypsos answered my thoughts. “As it is, we are severely limited in our resources. I was once able to use the eyes of a dead demon to plot their point of origin to a cave to our northeast. The eyes had completely disintegrated an hour later. Now you have offered me something much more solid to use.”
“Why hasn’t the fang disintegrated like everything else that I’ve killed?” I asked.
“It is imbued, empowered with a Kjaira soul that preserves it,” answered Palypsos.
“And the leather straps that help to hold it in place and wrap the dagger’s grip? Those were cut from the same Kjaira,” I countered.
Palypsos sniffed the blade.
“Your blood seems to preserve them,” he said. “Interesting. Let’s begin.”
Holding my war knife, he used the fang to gently pierce the lobe of his left ear, leaving the dagger hanging like some gaudy earring with blood dripping slowly onto his shoulder. Then he closed his eyes and began some sort of odd breathing pattern. We all just watched and waited. It didn’t take long.
“Fei-Krull, Kjaira of Lis-Xiana beckons you forth. Even though she has been well fed in death, her hunger yet echoes through her master,” intoned the shaman in a reedy distant voice.
“Who is her master?” I asked.
“You are. You have claimed her. Lis-Xiana mourns,” said the same voice.
“And who am I?” I said, wondering how I could claim a demon.
“You,” Palypsos hesitated for a moment, and the voice changed to something far more wretched.
“You are a House of War. You are Firefanged,” rasped an ugly voice.
I screamed and jumped out of my chair in surprise, expecting my body to burst into ebony flames.
After a few moments, nothing had happened. Khamros looked at me in surprise. My guards looked at each other and chuckled. Inside joke, I guess. I checked my pants to make sure they were still dry. Mostly.
Palypsos handed back my knife, now clean. His face was gray. Well, it was sort of gray, to begin with, but his pallor had paled.
“Okay, I think we are done here, don’t you?” I said to Khamros, trying to regain my composure. “Are you satisfied? Do we have an agreement to proceed?”
Khamros looked a bit shaken himself as he double-checked with the scribe on what was said.
He nodded, “I am. We do. Let us go see the King.”
Chapter 16
Hell-diving
King Ylamil had eagerly agreed to my terms after a short talk with Khamros. A dark elven warband marched from the city less than two hours later. We had fifty dark elves armed with their long-bladed spears plus Lorna and her seven Royal Guards, all armed with spears and their heavy black blades. My three guards carried their usual assortment of blades and axes.
I was beginning to appreciate the easy decisiveness of the King. A century or more of leading his people had endowed Ylamil with plenty of insight and self-assurance. Of course, he was risking very little at this point, and if things went poorly later today, he could always change his mind. I intended the day would only go badly for the minions of Hell.
It was mid-afternoon as we reached the suspected mine site, and I felt the slow pulsing of a burning void deep underground. We were in the right place. Raven’s redemption pooled in the labyrinth below.
Lorna and I wasted no time setting up for our attack on the cave. Yseria would remain outside with my two Sentinel guards, and she would be in overall command of the external elvish forces. Their job was to act as a rearguard until we returned. No way that I was risking my young bodyguards on this Hell-diving expedition. I wondered if Snow would risk my life in this same situation.
Lorna would accompany me into the mine with her seven shaman-cloaked royal guards. They were the best fighters the dark elves had to offer, and having the edge of surprise could make all the difference. We hoped to find most of the demons close to the entrance. After eliminating them, I planned to work silently with Fei-Krull, my fang-knife, until I killed whatever was producing or controlling the local horde. It was a plan, anyway. We would see how long it held together.
