by Steven Drake
”The Demon Realm is not a place, so much as a state of pure, formless energy, ever shifting, chaotic, a realm of pure magic with no substance, you might call it. Without form, it is both everywhere and nowhere at the same time.” Ezra hesitated, and Darien felt a shudder he could not positively identify as either Ezra’s or his own. “I’m afraid you’re correct, you yourself have become, at least partially, a demon as well, until death, perhaps even beyond.” Darien’s mind stopped. Few things could cause him any true fear, after what he had undergone in his training. Few things could have made this already horrible night any worse, but this was worse than anything imaginable. No longer just his mind, but his body and perhaps his soul as well, would be consumed. He laid down on his bed and stared up at the blank ceiling, blinking in shock, while Ezra continued. ”The only way for a mortal to wield demonic energy without being possessed is to become partially demonic, himself. The Demon Sword accomplishes this, and in so doing, it creates a balanced exchange of energies between the two planes. Your energy is continuously flowing into the sword, and its energy is flowing into you. When you are separated, this balance is upset. Demonic energy is not affected by distance, but your magical energy is, so the energy flows only outward. Since it cannot be exchanged with your magic, it dissipates, becoming visible as the black smoke. The energy can become dangerous if you are separated by too great a distance, affecting objects around the sword in unpredictable ways. It is important to avoid becoming separated from the sword.”
“Don’t you think you should have told me that before now?” Darien projected the question towards the old man along with his irritation. “Surely the possibility of my capture occurred to you?”
”Darien, there is always danger with the sword. If I had told you, would you have changed your mind, abandoned your quest? No, you would have taken the risk anyway, for some things are worth great risk. I came to agree with your choice, and I chose not to give you more to worry about. You do tend to worry too much.”
“Is that all, then?” The Shade’s mind was tiring from this exchange, much as it would when using domination magic. He had not quite recovered from the Grandmaster’s unexpected perceptive questioning. With this terrible news added to his burden, it was nearly too much. Perhaps, for his crimes, he deserved even this, but even so, he trembled with fear. Did his mother wait in vain beyond the doors of death for a son who would never follow?
Ezra did not reply to the last question, so Darien assumed the old man had once again disappeared, though perhaps disappeared was no longer the proper term, since he had not really appeared in the first place.
Darien could not remember ever feeling more exhausted than at this moment, but neither could he relax after what he had just heard, so he lay awake, staring fixedly at the contours of the ceiling, awaiting the knock at the door that would come sometime before dawn, when the next leg of the journey would begin.
Chapter 19: First Steps
The ten members of the party gathered early the next morning. Darien the Executioner had been named the official leader of the expedition, over the considerable protest of the Golden Shield representatives. Jerris Tolmirran represented the elves and Ceres Arloran accompanied him as a bodyguard. Tobin Tostag represented the dwarves. Junior Magus Niarie Kordana represented the Golden Magi. Deputy High Inquisitor Traiz Tyreus represented the Shining Inquisition. As he had promised, Grand Marshal Geoffray Leonhardt represented the Shield Knights, and he brought one of his captains, a massive man named Oswald Olivier. Finally, Rana Geruda personally represented the Grandmaster of the Golden Shield. Each traveler was provided with an appropriate mount, and two more horses were brought along as pack animals to carry supplies and provisions for a journey of no less than several months. With luck, they would return before winter, but in his current mood, Darien did not think they would be so lucky.
They left before dawn, under the cover of darkness, each wearing dark cloaks for concealment and a set of clothes that would nullify their magical auras, although these were only partially effective on Darien and Jerris. Still, appearing as ordinary mages instead of frighteningly powerful ones represented a considerable improvement in their ability to pass unnoticed through the densely populated Golden Plains. The Golden Shield officials could intervene if any problems arose, but it would draw unwanted attention. Darien would have preferred to keep their identities secret entirely, including the use of false names, but Geoffray and Oswald predictably refused. After a heated debate where Traiz thankfully took his side, Darien at least convinced the two Shield Knights to conceal their family names, which were well known, and to forgo the use of the official armor that displayed their rank.
By the time the sun rose, the party had left the gleaming golden domes and white stone towers of Trinium well behind them. Darien bid it good riddance, and brooded for the rest of the day. The previous night’s events had left him in an understandably foul mood, and he led the way down the well-maintained stone road without a word. The idea of becoming a demon filled him with disgust, coupled with a new fear beyond anything he had ever experienced. He felt dirty, corrupted, damaged beyond hope of repair, and incurably cursed, though perhaps if anyone deserved such a fate, he did.
The possibility of a spy amongst the group took up the second place his consciousness. He considered each of the travelers aside from Jerris and Ceres to be a possible suspect. Most disturbingly, he no longer thought Rana above suspicion since she had, beyond any reason the clockwork logical mind of the Executioner could decipher, insisted on coming on the quest. He had almost come to trust her during the past year, almost. Now, the doubts reappeared vividly. Perhaps, after all, she had been biding her time, using their sparring sessions to learn his fighting style, preparing for another opportunity to fight. Or perhaps she aimed to claim the Star Sword for herself, so as to be the one to strike the killing blow upon the Demon King. Darien, of course, saw no reason to trust anyone but Jerris with that responsibility.
Though he had known Tobin for years, he did not put the dwarf above all suspicion. Tobin’s appearance seemed fortunate, and experience had taught him to be suspicious of good fortune. This was not the first time the dwarf had appeared unexpectedly at a most convenient time. Tobin had been instrumental in his theft of the Demon’s Blade, selling him a needed starstone at far less than it should have been worth. Since then, Darien had no reason for doubt, and in fact he had investigated the old dwarf independently. Tobin was from an obscure branch of a very old and well connected dwarf family. Though not particularly wealthy or powerful, the old bookseller knew almost every known language, and was respected for his wisdom throughout the dwarf kingdoms. Many circulating stories implied Tobin had once been more than a bookseller and sometimes trader of antiquities, but no one seemed to have anything solid, and there were no official records, at least none Darien ever found. Whatever he had been before, Darien had known the old dwarf for years, and so Tobin fell last on Darien’s list of suspects.
The rest of the party, perhaps picking up on their leader’s sullen brooding, said little. Jerris attempted several times to engage Niarie in conversation, but she had no interest. Tobin was the only one who did much talking, mostly with Traiz, who appeared to have some appreciation for the old dwarf’s wisdom, or at least some interest in mining for information on the dwarf’s political connections. Darien would ordinarily have found Tobin’s wandering conversation amusing, but on this day, he barely took notice of it.
They passed through the flat, settled, and frightfully boring plains quite quickly, and the day passed. As the sun began to turn orange in the western sky, Darien finally spoke. “Traiz, you are familiar with these lands?”
“Yes, what is it you want to know?” the Inquisitor answered carefully.
“Then you will be in charge of choosing an inn this night, and you will continue to lead the party these next few days. I trust that should be no trouble here,” Darien said. The two Shield Knights exchanged looks of disapproval, while Rana and J
erris instead traded looks of concern. Darien ignored them. The previous day had left him distracted, and he was out of his experience here. This was the easy part of the journey. It didn’t take much leadership to follow the road and decide where to stop. The Golden Shield representatives should know the road well, and of them, he trusted Traiz the most. The Inquisitor had helped arrange this expedition, and held the trust of the Grandmaster, whom Darien respected, even if he did not particularly like the man. That counted for much, and with Rana’s motives uncertain, the Inquisitor was the most reasonable choice.
“Very well.” The Inquisitor locked eyes with the Shade for just a moment, and nodded ever so slightly, which the latter took as a recognition of his authority, and thanks for the gesture of trust.
They secured a few rooms at the inn. Jerris and Darien stayed in one room, with Tobin and Traiz in a second, the two Shield Knights in a third, and the women in a fourth. Darien ate quickly, and retired early to study some books on dragon lore he had brought.
Jerris followed some hours later and just as they were about to lay down, the younger half-elf finally mounted the courage to say something. “What’s wrong with you today? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Darien waved his hand dismissively without looking up from a book on the unusual life cycle of the dragonian race.
“Well you don’t act like it. I’ve never seen you brood all day like this. You usually seem so sharp, paying attention to everything, but today you were just, absent, or something,” Jerris said. “I know I’ve only known you for a year and a half or so now, but I can tell when you’re not yourself. What’s on your mind?”
“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” the older half-elf said flatly.
“Ugghh. Do you have to be so obstinate?” Jerris groaned. “Just tell me. Usually nothing rattles you. Whatever this is, it must be pretty bad.”
Darien shut his eyes and cursed silently for letting his emotions show, a careless slip that he never would have allowed six years ago, or even two years ago. Somehow, being around Jerris, Rana, and Galen had changed him. He wasn’t sure if he liked the change or not.
“Well, for one, there may be a spy in our group.”
“That isn’t it. I already thought that might happen myself. I don’t trust that Geoffray. He is the only one that brought a second. I don’t like the Inquisitor much either. He seems like the shifty, devious sort. If even I thought of it, then surely you…”
“You really are too clever for your own good, you know.” The older half-elf abruptly snapped his book shut and finally raised his eyes at the younger.
“Well I didn’t know much of anything before I met you, so if I’m clever now, it’s your fault.”
Darien narrowed his eyes at the lad, and then smiled despite himself. “So it is, and you’re right, it isn’t that. I spoke with Ezra last night.”
“What did he say?” Jerris asked curiously. “Was it about the weird smoke the sword was putting out?”
“It was. He explained the reason for the smoke, and in the process, I learned something I hadn’t known before.” Darien paused as he suppressed a look of pain. “The curse of the Demon Sword runs deeper than I realized. Remember when I told you how we all have magical energy inside us, some more than others?”
“Yes, why?”
“The Demon Sword allows its bearer to use demonic power by changing the nature of the magic they possess, making it like demonic energy. In this way, it changes the person’s nature, making them into, essentially, a demon.”
“So, it will make you like the Demon King, with the horns and the purple skin and clawed feet and everything? I was afraid something like that would happen.” Jerris plopped down on his bed, with a thump.
“I’m not sure of that. The Demon King made himself into what he is purposefully, at least as I understand it, but he never was truly bound to the sword. After all, demons don’t really look like him, they don’t look like anything. He just transformed himself so he would be stronger, faster, and most importantly, more frightening. It most likely won’t change my appearance at all unless I use the power to do that myself.”
“So why does it matter, then, if it’s not going to affect you at all?”
“Because, Jerris, I don’t know what I am anymore. It is not a man’s appearance that makes him who he is. It is his energy, the magic than animates all things. If the sword has the power to change that, well I don’t know if I’m even truly mortal now. The demons are not. I always believed that in death, I would see my mother again. Now, I wonder if I am separated from her, and everyone else, forever.” As Darien finished speaking, he stared absently out an open window into the twilight of evening.
Jerris hung his head, searching for something to say. “I’m sorry. I should have realized. I see your point. I don’t think I’d wish that on anyone, not even an enemy.” Then Jerris’ eyes flew open suddenly, and he jumped up from the bed. “The prophecy!” he shouted. “The prophecy says you can die, so you can’t be immortal.”
“Be quiet! Do you want to wake everyone up?” Darien hissed. Then, as he thought for a moment, he realized that Jerris was right, and put his hand to his chin. “I suppose it does…” Darien stroked his stubbly chin. Then he shook his head. “You’re right Jerris, I haven’t been myself today. This doesn’t really change anything, does it? I can’t die yet. I have a task to finish first.”
The lad smiled and nodded quietly to his teacher. For once, it was Jerris who had reminded him to focus on the present. Darien turned to look out the window once again, while Jerris blew out the candle on the table next to his bed, and laid down to sleep. The young half-elf always seemed to sleep far more than necessary, but today, Darien felt no urge to complain.
The next morning dawned gray and overcast with dull slate-gray clouds. As instructed, Traiz led the group westward along the road. They planned to make for the town of Coldwater, a journey of two weeks steady riding. Then, they would turn north, into the Scoured Hills at the edge of the Scouring Desert, so named because of the prevailing west winds that whipped up sandstorms and sent them wailing into the hills where the constant beating sand scoured rocks to a slippery smooth finish. That left the calculating Shade time to watch the Golden Shield representatives and assess their temperaments in an attempt to discern which could be a spy.
Darien had already gained some trust for the Inquisitor, Traiz. The man displayed competence, discretion, pragmatism, and intelligence, qualities Darien admired. Of all the representatives of the Golden Shield, Traiz seemed most useful. Though the man possessed no apparent magical talent, he was a keen observer of his surroundings, and possessed extensive knowledge of the Golden Shield and its members.
Niarie seemed out of place already. The petite woman obviously did not want to be there, which caused Darien to wonder why the Archmage named her as representative. Niarie possessed considerable magical talent. Her aura seemed to be the third most powerful of the group, after himself and Jerris, but it was also wildly unstable. It was normal for auras to fluctuate in power, but this seemed beyond normal, as sometimes Niarie’s aura would disappear to almost nothing beneath her enchanted light mail, then suddenly flare up like a fire reaching dry kindling, to overwhelm the enchantments. Something about the girl was off, but Darien could not yet decide what. He was not the only one who noticed, either, as Geoffray, Rana, and Oswald all kept their eyes on her when her aura flared largest. Jerris spent too much time admiring everything about Niarie except her aura. Jerris had developed an obvious attraction to the young woman, who seemed to be Jerris’ age, perhaps younger, quite young to be a magus of any level, and much too young to be on this quest.
Geoffray Leonhardt now wore a black eyepatch over his right eye, a constant reminder of his foolish duel with the Executioner. If Darien had known that Geoffray intended to join the party, he would have injured the fool knight severely enough to ensure a recovery period of several months. Geoffray seldom spoke, and gave every indic
ation of a continued hostility. Darien expected that he would have to put the knight in his place again, sooner or later. Men like that do not change their ways, no matter how many times they are humbled.
Geoffray’s lieutenant, Oswald, was a man with dark brown eyes and flaxen hair, thick and curly, with a moustache and beard to match. The knight possessed a massive physique, broad and thick of body, fully twice as wide as Darien despite being nearly as tall. His legs were like the trunks of thick trees, and his arms bulged with muscle easily visible from between the plates of heavy armor. From a distance, the man appeared more like a mountain ogre than a man. His shining silver armor made him appear even more enormous, and must have been ridiculously heavy. He had his own horse, a much larger and stouter beast than the others, clearly some sort of work horse that had been retrained, rather than an ordinary riding horse. Darien felt sorry for the poor beast all the same. Oswald’s main function appeared to be keeping himself between his captain and the Executioner at all times. As if that would make any difference, Darien chuckled inwardly. If Geoffray’s performance is any indication, I’ve nothing to fear from any of his subordinates.
Rana kept to herself, looking uncomfortable and preoccupied. He still could not make any sense of Rana’s strange late night visit or the Grandmaster’s frank advice. His only guess was that Rana had become distraught over her imprisonment at the hands of her former teacher. She had reacted quite negatively when asked about Geoffray. It appeared she had allowed her personal feelings to compromise her focus, a most common, and unfortunate, failing in women so far as the Shade was concerned. It did not occur to Darien to simply ask her what was wrong.
Ceres watched Jerris like a hawk, still perpetually displeased, no doubt trying to imagine new ways to convince Jerris to return to Kadanar. However, that prospect appeared far away, given the elf sentinel’s considerable, and embarrassing, difficulties learning to resist Jerris’ shadow sight. On the second day, Ceres argued most strenuously that the clouded sky was, in fact, purple rather than gray, until well past midday, when Darien finally had enough and counteracted the spell. When she realized what she had been saying, she turned a Shade of scarlet that nearly matched her fiery red hair. A healthy dose of humility was long overdue for the sentinel captain, but so far it did not seem to be having much effect.
