by Max Anthony
Meanwhile on the path, Skulks was hard-pressed by the second thief-demon, which was cutting at him with claws at the same time as it used minor magics to tug at his balance to make it harder for him to avoid its attacks. Skulks had a dagger-sword in each hand now and each time he tried to skewer the demon it would vanish and reappear a few feet to one side and renew its assault. To top it off, Skulks was also distracted by the sight of the other demon capering a merry dance on the spot, twirling clumsily as it danced a jig to the music of the night air.
“Look at me!” cried the creature, with the voice of the Warp. “I’m a demon!”
“No you aren’t!” responded the same demon in the voice of the Weft. “It is ME who is the demon!”
The possessed thief-demon tottered a few paces forward as its mind sought unsuccessfully to regain control of its body. It aimed a feeble bat at its partner-in-crime, catching it upon the shoulder unawares and causing it to miss an attack on Skulks. Ducking under a second swipe, Skulks punched the demon in the mouth, temporarily wiping the grin from its face.
Now, the mind of the possessed demon had started to assert control back over its body. This form of magic was new to the Warp and the Weft and they were not yet practised enough at it to maintain control over such a powerful being. The demon hopped and bounced as they tried to force it away from Skulks, but seconds later it expelled them from its body, banishing them back to their own. The wizards popped awake immediately, just in time to see the former slave-demon rush towards them, intent on revenge.
There was a series of flashes, each bright enough to light up the night for a hundred yards around them, followed by rolling bursts of thunder as the Warp and Weft cast heavy waves of sound towards the thief-demon. It was staggered, but not destroyed and it closed the distance between them rapidly.
Still some distance away, Skulks watched as the Warp and the Weft dropped behind the tree trunk, momentarily lost from view. His own adversary was showing itself to be tricky and unfair, assailing him with magics of ensnaring to slow his reactions to its assault. As he sought to grapple it, the demon caught Skulks with a head-butt, surprising him for he’d not seen a demon utilise one before. Surprise turned to pain as his nose was broken and flattened, causing stars to intrude upon his vision.
Not happy to be taught the arts of dirty fighting by a demon, Skulks returned a head-butt of his own, though he only caught the demon on the chin, rattling its teeth and splitting Skulks’ forehead. As they fought, the demon wrapped its arms about Skulks and squeezed at the same time as it tried to pierce him with its claws. With his arms partially trapped, Skulks could only stab the demon in the buttocks, which he did with vigour until it hurled him from its embrace and vanished again, leaving a patch of buttock-ichor on the grass.
By the tree trunk, the second thief-demon had vaulted over the log, expecting to find the two children cowering in fear. In fact, the children were gone, having used a spell of dislocation to transport themselves a further fifty yards into the trees.
“Yah-boo!” yelled one, inflaming the demon with the cheek of it. As it set off after them, its progress was slowed by dense, white hot flames. The flames were followed by a zig-zag of lightning as sharp and as hot as that from a storm cloud. Following this was cold, swirling in the air around it, grasping at its limbs and scalding its flesh. Usually the demon was almost immune to magic, hence its full-frontal approach to capturing the children. On this occasion, it found the magics hurting its flesh and leaving marks of trauma. With each element that struck it, the pain became greater as the Warp and Weft adapted their Wielding to overcome the demon’s natural defences against them.
Further down the bank, Skulks was beginning to learn the tricks his opponent was using. It could vanish, but he could now see a faint outline in the air as it did so. The creature wasn’t teleporting itself, so much as vanishing and then moving rapidly to a new location in the second or two it had until it reappeared. Skulks was now angry, with his squashed nose leaking metallic blood into his mouth and onto his tunic. As the demon reappeared, he was ready for it this time, stabbing it in the arm and kicking it firmly in the crotch as it tried to escape a second stabbing. Skulks’ boots had steel tips embedded in their toes, so the kick was effective even though the demon kept its privates hidden elsewhere.
Another swipe or two was directed at Skulks, followed by a concerted magical effort to pull him from his feet, which forced him to stumble. A dirty claw caught his chest, shredding the tough material of his tunic and scraping across his rib cage.
“Damn your eyes!” exclaimed Skulks, now feeling somewhat badly-used.
As claws descended once more, Skulks rolled beneath them. The demon kicked him in his recently healed ribs, but not before a dagger-sword had sliced off all three toes. Dripping with his own blood and that of the demon, Skulks rose up, shoving the demon away as it vanished again. He watched the outline as it fell backwards, attempting to right itself with one half-severed foot. This time it betrayed a new trick by remaining hidden and making a beeline for the trees, wherein it hoped to recover sufficiently to resume the chase from a position of advantage. Not wishing to spend the rest of the trip to Burden looking over his shoulder, Skulks pursued, though it took him some effort to keep the demon’s outline in focus.
A voice drifted down from the trees. “Hi, Daddy! Are you okay?”
Ignoring the distraction, Skulks leapt full-length, like a fish springing clear of a pristine lake, with both dagger-swords extended in front of him. The demon was aware of the danger, but too slow to react as both blades plunged into its back, which Skulks twisted and tugged at in a most disagreeable fashion. The demon roared, a loud echoing boom. It was the first sound Skulks could recall it making as he pressed home his advantage. The demon fell forward under the weight of Skulks and the pain of its damaged foot. Atop the feebly-thrashing demon, Skulks stabbed it again and again, until it finally stopped moving. As he stood up victorious, he looked upon the prone creature and hoped not to see another one soon.
It didn’t take him long to reach the Warp and the Weft. They were sitting on the body of the second demon, though it didn’t look much like a demon any more. It looked more like a huge joint of meat that had been left in the oven a whole day longer than necessary. Smoke drifted up from it and though Skulks was now terribly hungry, the smell didn’t make his mouth water one little bit.
He looked at the wizards. They were both injured, with the Warp having two missing fingers and the Weft proudly revealing claw marks on his leg.
“You figured out how to kill them, then?” Skulks asked rhetorically.
“Indeed we did! If we should meet one of these again it will not get so close.” They were both looking at Skulks’ face.
“You look like you’ve run into a brick wall!” said the Warp, waggling her two finger-stumps at him.
“You’ll be a real lady’s man now!” suggested the Weft.
Whilst not a man excessively proud of his looks, nor ashamed of them, Skulks gingerly touched his nose. The blood flow had dried up and he could already feel the bones knitting into place and the ruptured cartilage sealing. However, his nose was now twice as wide as it had been and would retain that appearance when it healed.
“I’ll look like a common street-brawler!” he moaned.
“And a poor one at that,” said the Weft. “They’ll be lining up to fight you. Think of it as a new way of making money!” Seeing that Skulks was downhearted, the Weft reached into his pocket and withdrew two spoons. “Kneel down,” he commanded.
Without ceremony, the Weft shoved both spoon handles up Skulks’ nose, one in each nostril. With surprisingly strong fingers, he pulled outwards, eliciting a crunching and crackling sound from the damaged tissue.
“Ouch!” said Skulks in distress.
“Shush your whinging,” said the Warp. “I’ve had two fingers cut off!”
“Yes and deyl grow bag,” said Skulks, unable to talk properly with two spoons up his nose and
the Weft’s hand covering half of his mouth. With his eyes watering, Skulks kneeled for ten minutes as the Weft spun and turned the spoon handles, tugging the ruined nose back into some semblance of shape.
“Perfect!” cried the Weft. “Good as new!”
As he turned his head, Skulks could feel his nose wobbling as if it was only partially attached to his face. The pain was excruciating at first, but it faded off to a dull throb as his body began the process of renewal. The claw marks across his chest had already faded, the small chunks of embedded dirt from the demon’s nails expelled onto the puckered flesh around the wounds.
“Are dare any more demons?” asked Skulks, still struggling with his words.
“Nope! I think we’ve got them all for now!”
“Sblendid!” said Skulks. “Led’s be off, den.” He turned back towards the King’s Road and had made his way only a few paces before realising he was unaccompanied.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked.
“We want to go back in the sack!” said the wizards.
Eighteen
With the Warp and the Weft safely ensconced in the sack, Skulks resumed his travels, though now at a much-reduced pace. All three of them were hungry, for use of Wielding powers needed an energy source, that source being food. Trags was the next inhabited place on their journey, marking the furthest reaches of the Kingdom of Meugh before joining the lands claimed by Queen Bounteous Happy. Skulks wasn’t sure how far Trags was, but he didn’t want to exhaust himself by sprinting in case it left him too weakened for any unknown challenges ahead.
“Get a move on!” shouted the sack.
“Yeah, we’re hungry!”
“One more word from you two and I’ll drop you in the nearest lake!” responded Skulks. “I’ve always wanted to see if wizards float.”
The sack fell silent for a time, though he could make out the sounds of whispering from within. Ignoring the pitiful whimpering of his stomach, Skulks maintained a fast walk which ate the miles up but not as quickly as he’d have liked. His reserves were running low and there was no traffic about for him to beg, borrow, steal or simply buy, food from. Skulks felt this unusual, for trade was the lifeblood of all towns and cities, not just Hardened.
After many hours, Skulks saw a single caravan heading his way, pulled by lumbering oxen. As it came closer, he saw a man and woman perched on a seat at the front. He could make out their concern from a distance, though they had no choice but to proceed.
“Good morning!” said Skulks, for it was indeed morning.
“Good morning to you,” said the woman warily.
“I have coin. Might I purchase from you some food?”
“We have little to spare,” said the man. “How much are you paying?”
Skulks dug into a pocket and dragged forth a handful of Scroats. “I will pay you most generously, for my children are also hungry.”
“Children?” asked the man, for none were visible.
“Yes. My children in this sack,” said Skulks dropping it to the road, where it landed with an audible oof. Two heads looked out.
“Have you found us any food yet, Daddy?” asked one.
“Have patience, my child. This good lady and gentleman may provide us with some food in exchange for these Scroats I have here.” Both lady and gentleman were now looking a tad dazed at the scene before them. The number of Scroats being brandished by Skulks would make their trip a profitable one, even though they weren’t traders.
“I think we might have a loaf of bread or two. Perhaps some meat and cheese.”
As it happened, both were fond of their food and always brought ample with them. Soon, Skulks’ sack was laden with an array of produce, albeit at a five hundred percent mark-up over what he’d have paid in Trags. He didn’t mind, being grateful to have found any food at all on this near-deserted road.
“So where is everyone?” Skulks asked, with his cheeks full of cheese. Meanwhile, the Warp and the Weft growled at each other like two small dogs as they scrapped over the same loaf of bread even though there were three others like it.
“No one wants to come to Casks anymore,” said the man.
“Aye, you either get taxed to the hilt on the way out, or your goods confiscated on the way in.”
“We’re only going as far as Flutes. We’ve got relatives there.” The look on the man’s face suggested they were visiting his mother-in-law.
“I’m just passing through,” said Skulks, “but this doesn’t seem like a good way to run a kingdom.”
“It’s not. There’s already talk in Trags about breaking away.” The woman elbowed the man in the ribs.
“Not that we agree with any of that talk,” he added hastily.
“Don’t concern yourself with me,” Skulks told him. “For I am no friend of Meugh. How far to Trags?”
“We’re only a day beyond her fields,” the woman told him, making Skulks happy for they were not too far distant.
“I bid you farewell,” said Skulks, setting off past them with the Warp and the Weft now displaced in the sack by the food they had bought. They were squabbling over a meat pie and Skulks studiously ignored them.
After half an hour, the sack of food was noticeably depleted, and the three Wielders were noticeably cheerier, with a positive outlook on the road ahead of them. Soon, there were signs of agriculture to the sides of the road, with well-tended fields even though the crops had now been picked for this year. Trags was visible in the distance, a large town not far short of Casks in size. They didn’t stay long, for they were all keen to reach Burden soon. The little time they spent in Trags showed them that it was teeming with life and vibrancy, far more so than Casks. Skulks thought it little wonder that Lula Grindy wished to come here to foment her rebellion. The few people he spoke to grunted dismissively when he tried to talk to them about the Kingdom of Meugh. Most of the citizens seemed to think Trags should be independent, or perhaps that it should become a part of Queen Happy’s kingdom.
“What were you intending to do for Queen Happy?” asked Skulks of the wizards, as they were leaving through the outskirts Trags with their food supplies restocked.
“We’ve known Queen Happy since she was a girl,” said the Warp, now in adult mode.
“She was always a good girl,” said the Weft, “and now she’s become a good queen. The trouble is, King Warmont’s had his eye on her since she was young. He’s a dirty old git, he is. Nearly seventy years old now and as randy as a red-bummed baboon.”
“Baboons! Will I never hear the end of them?” thought Skulks privately.
“The poor girl isn’t yet thirty and she doesn’t want to tumble with an old man whose balls dangle around his ankles. That hasn’t stopped him trying to take her and her kingdom by force, though!”
“She’s done well so far. Warmont’s bankrupted himself trying to salve his wounded pride. The trouble is, he’s nearly bankrupted Queen Happy as well. She’s got nothing left and is stuck in Burden while lawless bands of men burn her lands.”
“Which is why she called for us - to help out. Now it appears that King Meugh has designs on her lands too. He’s been recruiting Warmont’s men with promises of riches, but he needs Happy’s lands to pay them. Warmont’s been sitting in his castle stewing on his losses. We don’t think he even realises that his kingdom is lost yet.”
“What a pretty pickle!” said Skulks. “We had best pick up the pace then. Where did I put that sack?” He knew full well where the sack was, for it was in his hand and accompanied by another sack holding their provisions.
“Let us be off!” he cried, slinging the wriggling bundle over his shoulder and carelessly catching it upon the supporting beam of a stable as he did so.
“Aiee!” howled the sack, though it was more for effect than any genuine distress.
Having asked a few of the citizens of Trags how far they were from Burden, Skulks guessed that they were less than three days’ fast run. At the start of the trip, the Warp and Weft had sug
gested it might take twelve days, but they had been calculating on a more sedate trip with the odd stop to rest, eat and get up to mischief.
Skulks was now intrigued by the Warp and the Weft’s quest, though he was also worried about getting back to Hardened in time to oversee the Wizards’ Convention. In truth, he was hoping that he could be of some use in Burden and still return in plenty of time to thrash a few truculent wizards.
“The faster I get to Burden, the more chance there is that I can be of assistance to this fine queen,” he told himself as he increased his pace from a trot to a run and thence to a sprint, bouncing the poor sack about most hideously.
After two days at this pace, stopping only four times briefly to eat, Skulks noticed that the countryside was changing back to arable, for it had been unfarmed once they left the area around Trags. There were farms here and there and even as he ran Skulks could make out that they were abandoned. Plumes of smoke rose up at intervals, giving sign that other farms had been destroyed. There were few people on the road now and most of those were armed and travelling in small groups. It was fortunate for them that they weren’t of a mind to try and rob a lone man carrying two large sacks.
Early the next morning, Burden came into view. It looked serene from a distance, with stout grey walls standing firm and unmarked. As cities went, it was fairly large. Perhaps almost half the size of Hardened, Skulks estimated, though it was hard to tell from this distance. Here there were more bands of men, roving as bands of bored men are wont to do. Ahead, across the road, a number of them had set up a blockade made from crates and an old wooden cart, doubtless in order to extort money from those choosing to travel this way. An old farmhouse provided them with a place of shelter, with the farmer’s cellar providing them with supplies of food. Skulks could have run around and past the barricade, but chose not to, thinking he might be able to get some information here. He slowed to a halt in front of it, with the six men loitering there already doing their best to look menacing.
