The Desert Spear (demon)

by Peter V. Brett

  “Ay, there it is,” he said at last, opening a cloak with a snap and throwing it over Renna’s shoulders. He tied it in place and put up the hood.

  The cloth against her cheek was impossibly soft, like a kitten’s fur. Used to rough homespun, the fabric was finer than she imagined possible. She looked down and gasped again. There were wards sewn into the fabric with stitches impossibly small. Hundreds of them.

  “That’s a Cloak of Unsight,” Arlen said. “So long as you keep wrapped in it, no demon will even know you’re there.”

  “Honest word?” she asked, amazed.

  “Swear by the sun,” Arlen said, and suddenly she realized that she was still clutching her knife. Her knuckles ached from the grip when she finally relaxed and let go. She took her first full breath in what seemed like an hour.

  Arlen bent back to the circles and quickly had them ready, while she laid a firepit and took out Ilain’s basket. They sat together a time, sharing cold meat pies and ham, fresh vegetables, bread, and cheese. Corelings threw themselves at the wards occasionally, but Renna trusted in Arlen’s warding and paid them no mind.

  “You sit the saddle awkward in that big dress,” Arlen said.

  “Eh?” Renna said.

  “Can’t give Dancer his full head with you not seated right,” he explained.

  “He goes even faster?” Renna asked in disbelief.

  Arlen laughed. “Much.”

  She leaned over to him, putting her arms around his shoulders. “If you’re looking to get me out of my dress, Arlen Bales, just say so.” She smiled, but Arlen recoiled, putting his hands on her waist and lifting her off him like she might lift Mrs. Scratch from her lap. He was on his feet immediately.

  “Din’t bring you for that, Ren,” he said, backing away.

  “You ent takin’ advantage,” she said, confused.

  “Ent about that,” Arlen said, taking a sewing kit out of a saddlebag. He threw it to her, turning away. “Divide your skirts, and do it quick. We have business yet tonight.”

  “Business?” Renna asked.

  “You’re killing a demon by dawn,” Arlen said, “or I’m dropping you in the next town.”

  “Done,” Renna called. She ’d removed her petticoat and shortened the skirt, slitting it high on each side. Arlen looked up from where he sat warding an arrow at the edge of the circle, and his eyes danced across her bared thighs.

  “Like what you see?” she asked, and smirked at his discomfort as he started and quickly met her eyes. “Come into the firelight, you want a better look.”

  Arlen looked at his hand for a moment, slowly rubbing his warded fingers together, his eyes in distant thought. Finally he shook his head and got to his feet, coming over to her.

  “You trust me, Ren?” he asked.

  She nodded, and he took out a brush and some thick, viscous ink. “This is blackstem,” he said. “It will stain your skin for a few days; perhaps a week.”

  Carefully, almost lovingly, he brushed her long hair from her face and painted wards around her eyes. When he was finished, he blew gently on them to dry the ink. His lips were inches from hers, and she wanted to put her mouth against them, but she still felt the sting of his rejection and dared not.

  When his warding was done, he looked at her. “What do you see beyond the firelight?”

  Renna looked around. The night was near pitch dark. “Nothing.”

  Arlen nodded and laid his hands on her eyes. They were rough hands, scarred and callused, but gentle, as well. There was a soothing tingle in her skin where he touched, and she shivered in pleasure. He took his hands away, and the sensation faded, but the wards around her eyes felt warm now.

  “What do you see now?” he asked.

  Renna looked around, amazed. Trees and plants now glowed of their own accord, and there was a glowing mist seeping about her feet like a low and lazy fog. “Everything,” she said in wonder. “More’n I see in the sun. It’s all glowing.”

  “You’re seeing magic,” Arlen said. “It seeps up from the Core and gives all living things a spark of it that makes them glow.”

  “Their soul?” Renna asked.

  Arlen shrugged. “I ent a Tender. Corelings are infused with it, and will flare brightly to your eyes now.”

  Renna turned toward a rustle in the brush, and a wood demon there, invisible a moment before, now shone in the magic-lit world. She looked at her own hands, glowing only faintly. Twilight Dancer was brighter, wards on his hooves and harness glowing like stars in the sky.

  But it was Arlen who shone brightest, the wards on his skin positively brimming over with power. It looked as if they were written in light, permanently activated.

  “Too many wards,” Arlen said, noticing her stare and putting his hood up. “Soaked up too much demon magic to ever be just a man again.”

  “Why would you want to give up such power?” Renna asked.

  Arlen paused, seeming confused. He opened his mouth and closed it.

  “Don’t know I would,” he admitted at last. “But it ent a choice you can take back, and I wan’t in my right head when I made it.” He pointed at Renna. “You ent in your right head, either.”

  “Who are you, Arlen Bales, to tell me when my head is right?” Renna demanded.

  He ignored her in that infuriating way he had, taking up a spear and handing it to her. She looked at it doubtfully, and made no effort to take it.

  “Speakers all done it,” Arlen reminded her.

  “Know that,” Renna said, “but if I’m gonna fight, it’ll be with my own knife.” She had finished etching the piercing and cutting wards, if nothing else. She held it out for him to inspect.

  “It’s a fine blade,” Arlen noted when he took it. He touched the edge to his thumb, drawing blood with almost no pressure. “Sharp enough to shave.”

  “Da cared for it better than he did his own kin,” Renna said.

  Arlen looked at her but said nothing. He held the knife this way and that, inspecting the etched wards. “Good warding,” he admitted with a touch of contrition. “Good as any I’ve seen. Could do with more, but this is enough to start.” He handed it back, pommel-first, and Renna grunted as she took it.

  “All that’s left is to test it,” Arlen said. “Time to leave the circle.”

  Renna had known all along it would be necessary, but she could not suppress the wave of fear that overcame her at that moment, like welling vomit. She ’d told her sister that she wasn’t scared of anything anymore, but it wasn’t entirely true. She might not be scared of men, but corelings…Memories of her night in the outhouse still haunted her, startling her sometimes even when she was awake.

  Arlen put a hand on her shoulder. “We ’re miles from nowhere, Ren. Corelings cluster where there’s people to hunt, or big game. Won’t be but a few out here. You got your cloak, and I’m right here.”

  “To save me,” Renna said. He nodded, and she felt a flash of anger. She was tired of waiting for others to save her, but she looked at a wood demon stalking the edge of the road and shivered. “Ent ready for this,” she admitted, hating to show her weakness.

  But Arlen didn’t berate her as he did the Speakers. “Know you’re scared spitless,” he said. “I was, too, my first time. But I learned in Krasia to embrace my fear.”

  “How’s that?” Renna asked.

  “Open yourself to the feeling,” he said, “and then step your mind back to a place beyond.”

  Renna snorted. “That don’t make any sense.”

  “Does,” Arlen said. “Seen boys half my age charge demons with nothing more than a wardless spear between ’em. Seen ’em ignore pain and keep fighting like everything’s sunny till they win or drop dead. Fear and pain can only touch you if you let them.”

  “Honest word?” Renna asked.

  He nodded, and Renna closed her eyes, opening herself up to the sick feeling of her fear. The tension in her limbs and rolling of her stomach. The clenching of her fists and the coldness of her face. When
she felt she was aware of it all, she ignored the lot.

  Arlen lifted a finger, pointing to a small wood demon clinging to a nearby tree. It would otherwise have blended with the trunk perfectly, but now it glowed fiercely to her warded eyes, a stark contrast with the dimmer glow of the tree.

  Trusting in her cloak, Renna left the circle and walked calmly to the demon. It sniffed the air with a look of vague curiosity, but gave no sign it sensed her proximity. Before she realized what she was doing, she stabbed it in the back. The wards flared, and the demon’s barklike armor parted easily. There was a shock up her right arm as if she had just put the whole arm in a roaring fire, a pain that pulsed with ecstasy.

  The demon threw back and shrieked, but Renna pulled the blade free and stabbed again. And again. A moment later, the demon hit the ground, sending the magic mist flowing away in tiny eddies and whorls.

  Renna straightened, inhaling a breath sweet with summer air. She felt stronger, more alive, than she ever had in her life.

  Across the road, she caught a glimpse of a flame demon’s glowing eyes, and this time, she didn’t hesitate, her eyes hard as she charged and dropped to one knee, putting the blade right through its head. This time, she relished the pain of the magic as the demon thrashed and collapsed. Black ichor struck the ground, smoking and starting small fires where it landed.

  The original wood demon she had seen on the road was six feet tall, and noticed the commotion. She could have hidden behind her cloak, but the thought never occurred to her as Renna snarled and launched herself at it. The demon roared and took a swipe at her, but Renna was fast and strong like she had never dreamed, and she laughed as she dodged the clumsy attack and put her knife in its chest. This time, it was just like gutting a pig.

  She looked around, breathing hard, but not in exhaustion. It felt more like…lust. She wantedthere to be more demons. Wanted there to be a horde of them.

  But there were none.

  “Told you,” Arlen said, smiling. He gathered the circles back up and took Twilight Dancer’s reins. “Let’s go for a ride in the naked night. Free.”

  Renna nodded, vaulting easily into the giant stallion’s saddle without touching the stirrup. She took the front position, leaving room for Arlen to climb in behind her. He laughed and leapt into place as easily as she had. He put his arms about her and she kicked Twilight Dancer, giving a whoop of glee as the stallion leapt forward and they galloped down the glowing night road.

  It had been a full turn since the coreling prince glimpsed its prey in the walled breeding ground. It was forced to spend two nights tracking the one, coming at last to soar above an abandoned ruin thick with his scent. Fresh wards protected the structure, strong ones, but easily breached nonetheless.

  There was no need, however, as the mind demon spotted the human mind moving through the woods far from the walls.

  With a flap of it gargantuan wings, the mimic banked and soared toward the human, silent as death. The mind demon reached out with its thoughts, seeking access to the one’s thoughts, but it was turned away by powerful warding. It hissed, but as it spread its probe wider, it discovered he was not alone. The human mind traveled with a female whose mind was as open as the sky. It slipped quietly into her thoughts and rested unnoticed, seeing through her eyes.

  Renna stabbed hard into the wood demon, twisting the blade up into its heart. Next to her, Arlen had wrestled the other one to the ground, holding it prone while the killing wards all over his body did their work.

  There was a growl, and Renna looked up to see a third demon appear in the branches above her. She twisted as it dropped, but caught the hilt of her knife on the ridged armor of the first demon. The coreling fell dead, and the weapon was twisted from her grasp.

  “Demonshit,” she said, dropping to her back and coiling her legs as Arlen had taught her. She caught the wood demon’s branchlike arms and pulled them aside as she kicked out, using its own momentum against it. The demon landed right in front of Arlen, who crushed its skull.

  “You’d let me paint my knuckles, I could do that myself,” Renna said.

  “Ent no need to ward your skin,” he told her. “Knife’s good enough for now.”

  Renna went over to the wood demon, pulling her knife free. She held it up for Arlen to see. “Din’t have the knife.”

  “You handled it well enough without.”

  “Only because you wern’t still wrestlin’ that other one,” Renna said. “Ent looking to use a needle, only a brush and some blackstem.”

  Arlen frowned at her. “Feedback’s different when the wards are on your skin, Ren. Strong enough to lose yourself in. I was lost a long time after I started doing it, and I ent myself even now. Don’t want to see that happen to you. You mean too much to me.”

  “I do?” Renna asked.

  “Good to have someone to talk to other than Dancer,” Arlen said, oblivious to her sudden interest. “I…get lonely.”

  “Lonely,” Renna echoed. “Know what that’s like. Apt to lose yourself there, too. World’s full of things to lose yourself in. Don’t mean we should spend our whole lives behind the wards.”

  Arlen looked at her a long time. Finally, he shrugged. “Can’t tell you what to do, Ren. You want to ignore me and paint your hands, it’s on you.”

  The coreling prince observed the courting for several more minutes, amused by human mating rituals. It was clear the one barely understood his magic, oblivious to the mind demon’s presence or the extent of his own powers. He had the potential to be a unifier, but here in the wilderness he was no threat and could be safely observed.

  The demon let go the female’s surface thoughts, probing more deeply into her mind for information on the one, but there was little of value. It planted a question on her lips.

  “How’d you bring back the lost wards?” Renna asked, surprising herself. She knew Arlen hated to talk about what had happened to him after he left the Brook.

  “Told you. Found them in a ruin,” Arlen said.

  “What ruin? Where?” she pressed.

  “What does it matter?” Arlen snapped. “It ent some Jongleur’s saga.”

  Renna shook her head to clear it. “I’m sorry. Dunno why I got so interested. Dun’t matter. Ent lookin’ to pry.”

  Arlen grunted and headed off toward the keep they had spent the last few weeks warding while he trained her to hunt demons.

  The coreling prince hissed as the one refused the question. Logic said to kill them both, but there was no urgency. The number of wards around their shelter suggested they would not leave soon. It could observe another few cycles.

  As the humans crossed the wards, the mind demon was cut off from the female’s mind. A moment later the mimic landed in a clearing and turned to mist, guarding the path as the coreling prince slipped back down to the Core to consider.

  CHAPTER 28

  THE PALACE OF MIRRORS

  333 AR SUMMER

  IT WAS WELL AFTER dark by the time the council meeting ended. As Leesha expected, they had voted unanimously against her going back to Rizon with Jardir, and had all been appropriately shocked when she reminded them their votes meant exactly nothing.

  Leesha was without the benefit of her warded cloak for the walk back to her cottage, but Rojer layered a protective field of music around the group as potent as any wardnet. His powers seemed to have increased tenfold with his new fiddle, but Wonda and Gared kept their weapons ready as they escorted Darsy and Vika.

  “Still say you’re out of your skull,” Darsy growled. She was as intimidating as Wonda—wider if not as tall and every bit as homely, though without the scars to account for it.

  Leesha shrugged. “You’re welcome to your opinion, but it isn’t open for debate.”

  “What’re we s’posed to do if they take you?” Darsy asked. “Ent like we can mount a rescue, and you’re what holds this town together, especially with the Deliverer gone off to Creator knows where.”

  “Prince Thamos and the Wooden Sol
diers will be here soon,” Leesha said.

  “They ent gonna come for you, either,” Darsy said.

  “I don’t expect them to,” Leesha said. “You’ll just have to trust me to take care of myself.”

  “I’m more worried about the rest of us,” Vika said. “If you marry this man, we lose you forever, and if you don’t…We’ll likely lose you that way, as well. What are we to do?”

  “That’s why I brought you here tonight,” Leesha said. Her cottage came into sight, and they were barely inside before she signaled Wonda to lift the trapdoor to her basement workshop.

  “Everyone but Vika and Darsy stays up here,” Leesha ordered. “This is Gatherers’ business.” The others nodded, and Leesha escorted the women down the stairs, lighting her cool chemic lamps on the way.

  “Creator,” Darsy breathed. She had not seen the cellar in many years, since Bruna had dismissed her as an apprentice. Leesha had expanded it greatly since then, and it now covered the whole underside of the cottage and most of the yard as well, an enormous space. Painted support pillars ran along the walls of the main chamber and the many offshoot tunnels.

  Where once Bruna had stored a handful of thundersticks for removing unruly stumps from the ground and a couple of jugs of liquid demonfire, Leesha had what seemed like an endless stockpile.

  “There’s enough flamework here to turn the Hollow into the face of the sun,” Vika said.

  “Why do you think I’ve kept my cottage so far from town?” Leesha asked. “I’ve been brewing demonfire and rolling thundersticks every night for a year.”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Vika asked.

  “Because no one else need know,” Leesha said. “I won’t have the Cutters or the town council determining how this should be used. It’s Gatherers’ business, and you’ll dole it out sparingly while I’m gone, and only when it will preserve lives. And I’ll have your words that you’ll keep the same silence or I’ll dose your tea so you don’t remember being here at all.”

  The two women looked at her as if trying to determine whether she was serious, but Leesha was, and knew they could see it in her eyes.