The Unexpected Demon

by Simon Waldock

  None of us had and we left the library feeling very let down.

  oOo

  Chessina was very quiet at dinner, which was at Tasseder's house. Elinne did her best to cheer up Chessina but to little avail. That night Chessina was very despondent despite my best efforts to distract her. At last, tired out, I had to sleep, although I hated leaving her to brood.

  oOo

  With a start, I realised that someone was standing next to me, beside Chessina's bed. It was a woman, very similar to Chessina, but far more serene than Chessina ever was, with eyes of uncertain colour and unfathomable depths. I somehow knew this woman and felt love for her, although not the same feeling that I had for Chessina.

  "A . . . Arcana?" I stumbled out the question.

  "Yes, Castamir, I am she," the goddess replied.

  "You are appearing to me in dream?" I queried. "Isn't that a little trite?"

  I must be dreaming or I'd never talk to Arcana like that if I weren't.

  "Of course it's trite, it's how we always make contact with mortals when we want to give specific instructions," the goddess replied. “If I interacted with your fully conscious mind I'd destroy it. Gods don't like to turn their worshippers into vegetables. I have been reminded by my sister Agapa, goddess of love, who thinks you and Chessina are wildly romantic, that the oldest and most profound magic is love. You are going to need my help to restore Chessina. I need to intercede with Emaxtiphrael, god of death and ruler of the halls of waiting. He won't mind too much, Chessina's soul is complicating his accounting."

  "He has to bother with accounting?" I said in some surprise.

  "Yes, he does, for reasons that don't concern you," Arcana replied. “I will need to create a new body for Chessina which is somewhat tricky. I need to ask you a question Castamir. What will you sacrifice to replace Chessina's soul in a body?"

  "Whatever you ask," I replied without hesitation.

  "Your connection to the tower?" Arcana asked, looking at me intently.

  "If that is what is required," I answered. “although I will need to pass the mastership of the tower on, the tower needs a wizard with a proper connection to it."

  "No regrets?" asked the goddess.

  "Of course I have regrets," I replied. “but what are they compared to Chessina regaining her soul."

  "You pass the test. Go back to sleep, Towermaster" Arcana said. “you need to go back to the library and find the tale of Djehuti. That will tell you what you have to do. When you read the tale certain things will become clear. I will be with you when you need me."

  "Thank you. I do love you Arcana," I said, becoming sleepy.

  "I know, and I love you," Arcana said, "and Chessina too."

  oOo

  I woke with a start and turned to see Chessina sitting up in bed reading. She was studying a spellbook, bless her. Being able to see in very little light was obviously useful.

  "Are you alright love?" she asked anxiously.

  "Yes, I am," I replied. “I know where to look in the library."

  "You remembered something?" asked Chessina.

  "I'll explain in the morning," I replied. “I want to tell Dragovar too."

  I turned over to go back to sleep, but Chessina had other ideas. I did get back to sleep again . . . eventually.

  oOo

  Tasayne and Dragovar joined us for breakfast. I thought Dragovar looked a little tired while Tasayne looked incredibly smug. She and Chessina shared conspiratorial smiles.

  "I had a dream," I announced to the table when the servants had withdrawn.

  "How nice for you," snapped Dragovar, rather waspishly.

  "We need to look in the library for the tale of Djehuti," I said. “I know where to find it."

  "A prophetic dream?" remarked Dragovar, incredulously, "they are usually very unreliable when they're not downright rubbish."

  "No, an instructional dream," I said, "Arcana told me where to look."

  "Arcana?" said Chessina and Tasayne simultaneously, while Dragovar's expression looked like a stuffed fish.

  "Yes," I said, and turned back to my breakfast. "What particularly tasty bacon this is Dragovar, my compliments to your cook."

  I told everybody about Arcana and the dream while we ate. I decided to eschew second helpings, as Dragovar and Tasayne were like cats on hot tiles while Chessina did her best to conceal her impatience. In the library I knew just where to go and I went straight to the volume containing the tale of Djehuti. Taking the book over to a table, I opened it and began to read aloud. Djehuti the Mighty was both a powerful wizard and heir to the throne of Agerak. Djehuti's father Nebkhamae the Devout was the Archon, who had many wives, as was right and proper in the sight of the gods. Nebkhamae's harem held two hundred women.

  "That seems a suspiciously round number to me," I commented.

  "Were the women secondary wives, or concubines?" asked Chessina.

  "I don't know," I replied, "the text doesn't make their exact status clear. I think the author assumed the reader would know."

  One of Nebkhamae's harem, named Meryt was banished from the royal palace. One of the harem servants had reported to Archon Nebkhamae that Meryt had been acting strangely. Nebkhamae being troubled by this had observed Meryt secretly and saw her evil practices that were hateful to the gods.

  "Demonology?" enquired Dragovar.

  "It wouldn't surprise me in the least," I replied.

  Nebkhamae, being more merciful than wise, commanded that Meryt should be banished, to a small palace many leagues distant. Before the moon had circled once in the heavens Nebkhamae fell ill with an unknown malady. The priests chanted their most potent spells and beseeched the gods for aid, but in vain. Nebkhamae the Devout, with Djehuti at his bedside died and there was great lamentation among the people.

  "Distinct shades of Agravar," remarked Dragovar. The rest of us nodded agreement.

  Djehuti was greatly distressed as his father had been hale and hearty but followed the prescribed rites of mourning, during which Nebkhamae's body was prepared for burial. Djehuti led the procession carrying his father's body to the tomb for the final funerary rites. The climax of the rite was to be the priests contacting Nebkhamae's spirit and returning it briefly to the corpse when it would salute Djehuti as the new Archon before returning to the afterlife. When the priests cast their spell Nebkhamae's spirit did not return. Again and again the priests tried, but to no avail. They even tried to contact the spirit in the Halls of Waiting, though it should have long departed from there. The result of this attempt gave confusing results, but Nebkhamae's spirit still did not return. These events caused consternation among the royal courtiers, Djehuti had not been confirmed Agerak, but then who was. Some of the nobles muttered that as Djehuti had not been confirmed, the gods had withdrawn their favour from Nebkhamae's line and that a new royal lineage should be chosen. After hasty consultation with the chief priest Djehuti declared that he would undergo a week of meditation and ritual purification before the priests attempted to contact Nebkhamae's spirit once again. Djehuti told the chief priest, who was an old friend of his father that he was very suspicious of the timing of Nebkhamae's death and thought that Meryt was responsible.

  The chief priest therefore, agreed that he would deceive the other priests while Djehuti went to investigate. As soon as the priests had left him to meditate, Djehuti transformed himself into a falcon and flew to the small palace that Meryt had been banished to. Perching on the roof just outside Meryt's chambers he heard her talking, the voice that replied to her was his father's sounding in great distress. Returning briefly to his own form, Djehuti became invisible and climbed down a nearby tree. Looking in the room he saw Meryt talking to a mirror, which displayed not her image, but that of his father. Meryt demanded that Nebkhamae name her son Sekhemef as Archon and when he refused, to Djehuti's horror, Meryt touched a particular part of the mirror causing Nebkhamae to scream in pain. Djehuti came stealthily up behind Meryt and stunned her with a blow. He did not wish to kil
l her, in case she was required to remove the spell. He took the mirror and, still invisible, stole a horse and returned with the mirror to the temple. There Djehuti found the chief priest guarding the entrance to the small brick building that had been erected in the temple grounds. In this Djehuti had supposedly been taking steam baths, fasting and praying to the gods.

  "In my research into demonology, I remember reading about one Sekhemef, son of Meryt who was rumoured to have been fathered by a demon," interrupted Dragovar, "I wonder if it was the same Meryt? It was a common female name."

  "Something worth researching," I agreed, and then continued with the story.

  Djehuti told the chief priest what he had seen and the man was horrified at the story. They questioned Nebkhamae who told them that he was imprisoned in a part of the Halls of Waiting and could not leave. Upon examination the reverse of the mirror was inscribed with many runes. Fortunately, the writer of the tale had included a diagram showing the runes and their position on the mirror.

  "They are identical to those on the mirror we found," said Chessina, tears of relief running down her cheeks.

  I stopped reading to hug and comfort her. After Chessina was feeling better she motioned me to continue, the others having waited patiently for her to recover.

  Chapter 22

  We all sat down again, and I continued reading. Djehuti went secretly to the royal library of Agerak to seek out books of runes. He found several but was unsure precisely what runes to use to allow his father back into his own body. It was hardly a subject for indiscriminate experimentation after all. Sitting at the desk he drew the pattern of runes on the mirror that had trapped his father's soul and pondered what to do. He prayed to Arcana for guidance and to his amazement and delight the runes that he had drawn morphed themselves into other runes, runes of freeing, of guidance and of temporary binding. As I turned over the next page I saw the new pattern written there.

  "Look, here are the runes," I said, and the others clustered round to look.

  I then had a most singular experience. A piece of knowledge popped into my head, with absolute crystalline certainty.

  "That rune is wrong," I said, pointing at one rune of the diagram in the book. “It needs to be this one."

  I drew the appropriate rune in the air with glow-writing.

  "Are you sure?" asked Dragovar.

  "Yes," I replied with complete conviction.

  "Arcana?" Chessina queried.

  "Undoubtedly," I answered. “Thank you, divine one."

  I turned to Chessina and smiled. She smiled back at me, her eyes shining very brightly.

  I returned to the tale; after receiving his revelation from Arcana, Djehuti returned to the high priest and told him what had happened and they discussed what to do. They agreed that Djehuti would try to release his father's soul on the morrow so the high priest had this fact cried aloud in the public places of the city. Both Djehuti and the high priest knew that if Djehuti failed he might well be usurped and killed by ambitious nobles. On the morrow the funerary procession formed again with Djehuti at its head. He led it once again to his father's tomb, this time carrying the soul trapping mirror concealed in his garments. At the tomb, before the priests could again try to contact the soul of Nebkhamae, Djehuti's father, Djehuti took the mirror and with a spell changed the runes on the reverse side to those revealed to him by Arcana. As the priests chanted the mirror became very cold to Djehuti's touch. The eyes of his father's prepared corpse opened and gazed on Djehuti for the final time. The face smiled and the mouth opened.

  "Hail Djehuti," it said, "beloved son and Archon of Agerak. I leave this land of Agerak in your capable hands and go to the afterlife in peace."

  Djehuti knelt before his father for the last time in acknowledgement of these words.

  "All hail Djehuti, new Archon of Agerak!" boomed the high priest, his voice magnified by the power of the gods.

  Djehuti stood and all others knelt.

  "As new Archon of Agerak I give my first command," Djehuti said in an incisive tone, "Umzes, high priest and friend of my father, go now to the palace of my father's widow Meryt, and bring her to me in chains, but beware of her for she has cast fell magics on my father and may be responsible for his death."

  This caused much muttering and quiet talk among the assembled nobles and dignitaries as high priest Umzes led several men forth. Djehuti then summoned those present to the traditional first audience with the new Archon. At this audience, as was customary, the assembled nobles took oaths of loyalty to Djehuti. When it was his turn, Tepyneb, one of the nobles, came forward and knelt before Djehuti.

  "Mighty Archon, I was one who doubted your claim to the Archonship," said Tepyneb, "I doubt you no longer, but hail you without reservation as Archon."

  Djehuti looked into Tepyneb's eyes and read the truth of his words.

  "Then rise Tepyneb and take your place as my new vizier, for you are an honest man who will admit to his doubts as none of the other nobles did," said Djehuti, "and I command you to tell the truth to me always, without fear or favour as you have done today."

  Djehuti remembered those nobles who had supported his claim when it was in doubt, and those who had not. To those who had supported him, Djehuti gave positions of power and responsibility in places removed from the capital as he knew he could trust them. To those who had doubted Djehuti's claim he gave them positions of small power and little responsibility in the capital, for they were not trustworthy. Two days later the high priest and his men returned with Meryt blindfolded and in chains. They reported that Meryt's son Sekhemef was nowhere to be found, and that no-one could remember when he left. Djehuti commanded that Meryt be interrogated in front of his closest advisors only and not in public, using a potion of truth and this was done. Meryt admitted that she had brewed the potion that killed Nebkhamae, Djehuti's father and that she had trapped his soul in the mirror that Djehuti had taken. Meryt gave only confused answers when she was asked where her son was, or how she had learned to make the potion or cast the spells that she had used on Nebkhamae. Djehuti and Umzes both cast spells on Meryt and concluded that parts of her memory had been destroyed, but who had done this remained unknown. Meryt was brought before the whole court the next morning.

  "Meryt, the widow of the late Archon Nebkhamae has confessed to his murder by cunning poison," announced Tepyneb the vizier, "in order to place Sekhemef her son on the throne as Archon."

  This announcement sent a buzz of talk throughout the court, which ceased when Tepyneb continued.

  "The Archon will now pronounce sentence."

  "Meryt, you murdered Archon Nebkhamae, my father, and magically tormented him in order to place your son falsely on the throne," Djehuti spoke in cold and measured tones, "as a son I yearn for vengeance and to torment you in your turn, but as Archon I must rise above such desires. I therefore simply sentence you to death for murder. Throw her to the crocodiles."

  Meryt screamed for mercy but Djehuti sat stony faced on his throne as the guards dragged her to her fate. A warrant for Sekhemhef's arrest was issued and the search for him continued throughout Djehuti's reign and for many years after, but he was never found.

  "And that is the end of that part of the tale of Djehuti," I said, closing the book.

  Chessina slipped her hand into mine and looked at me worriedly.

  "Castamir," she said tremulously, "does that mean I have to die to get a soul?"

  "No, of course not," I replied, somewhat confused, "the changed rune will place your soul into a body permanently, not temporarily like that of Nebkhamae."

  "Well why didn't you say so?" snapped Chessina, waspishly.

  "I'm sorry, I knew with such absolute certainty what to do, that it never occurred to me to explain further," I replied, apologetically.

  Chessina glared at me and rolled her eyes.

  oOo

  We had left the royal palace and were heading for Dragovar's tower for a well deserved cup of tea, when a royal guard accost
ed us. He was accompanied by a well dressed wild-eyed man carrying a bundle.

  "Excuse me, my lord," said the guard to Dragovar, "this man is desperate to see you."

  Without further ado, the man thrust the bundle at Dragovar.

  "Help me!" he cried, "it's a demon."

  The bundle, disturbed, gave out the wail of a distressed infant.

  "No it isn't," snapped Chessina, "it's a child. Give it to me before you hurt it."

  The man promptly obeyed, mind you Chessina in that sort of mood, had that effect on most people.

  "Why don't you come inside, have a cup of tea, and tell us all about it," said Dragovar soothingly, taking the man's arm.

  We got him sat down in a nearby room in Dragovar's tower, and tea sent for. The child made further noises of distress.

  "Castamir," said Chessina, "if the Priestess' lessons were correct this child is very hungry. You need to find out where its mother is, now."

  "I wouldn't normally do this, but you're right love," I replied.

  I placed my hand gently on the man's head and muttered the words that would let me into the surface of his mind.

  "His name is Korel, he is a lord and his wife has just given birth in his apartments in the annex to the royal palace," I intoned, deciphering the thoughts that flowed past my awareness. I felt sick, breaking into a person's most private reaches, their thoughts. Only concern for the infant's welfare would make me do such a thing.

  Chessina had placed the child on a sofa and was undoing its cloth wrappings. Chessina turned to the female servant who had just placed the tea tray on a table.

  "You, this child here . . . she," said Chessina glancing down at the infant, "is still bloody from birth and . . .ewww, the afterbirth is still attached, bring warm water, clean cloths and towels, some stout thread and a sharp knife or scissors . . . well don't just stand there girl, go!"