“This is all very interesting,” Shona said, “but could we possibly discuss it someplace less windy? My ears are starting to ache.”
“Looks like there’s a stone hut down there,” Fenelon said. He pointed towards a lower section of the pasture.
“I know that place,” Alaric said as the image of sitting inside it drinking a warm brew and stretching his hands towards a fire flashed into his mind. Horns, he didn’t like feeling so helpless in his own mind. You’re not helpless, he scolded himself. Remember what Gareth told you…
Ronan chuckled again.
“Figures,” Fenelon said. “Let’s go. It would be nice to be warm while scrying this place a bit.”
Everyone agreed. The hut sat downhill from the pasture, carefully picking their way across the white wintry blanket. Fenelon took the lead, one hand resting on his sword, the other free for spell casting. Alaric sensed when Fenelon stretched mage senses to scry the hut. Fenelon frowned.
“Someone had been here recently,” he muttered.
“Tane,” Vagner whispered, and the demon shivered.
Alaric glanced at the demon. “Is he here now?” he asked.
“Hard to say,” the demon said. “The air here is confusing…”
Confusing was putting it mildly. Something wholly unnatural was hidden in that valley. Distorted by the mist, it burned Alaric’s mind. A slow distrust of what his eyes perceived rose in him. Was the mist really there? Or the hut? Or his friends…
Fenelon reached the door first. He put a hand against the wood then shoved it open, drawing the sword and shouting, “Loisg!” Fire flared around his blade, and he thrust himself through the opening like an avenger. Etienne and Shona both readied themselves with staffs firmly in hand, and Alaric put a half-hearted hand to his own hilt.
But Fenelon’s stiff back relaxed, and he drew himself up straight.
“It’s empty,” he said, turning to look out, “but it has been recently occupied.”
Eitenne and Shona were already through the door by the time Alaric arrived. A putrid stench hit his nose. “What…”
He heard Fenelon swear and Shona suddenly rushed for the door, a hand to her mouth, pushing Alaric aside in her flight. Etienne tried to block his way as she reached for Shona, but Alaric pressed past her and entered the hut. He stopped at Fenelon’s side, suddenly regretting the haste.
A corpse lay pinned to the floor with ropes and stakes. It was difficult to determine gender at a glance, and took Alaric a moment to realize it had actually been a man. Very little of the skin remained. Most of it had been pried back to reveal muscle, arteries and bone. The eyes were gone as well.
Around the body were marks drawn in blood. Fenelon frowned, sheathing his sword and stepped closer.
“Careful,” Etienne said. “It could be laden with wards. Alaric, please step away from that dreadful sight.”
Alaric needed no more bidding. He pushed himself away, spinning on heels like a drunken man and staggering for the open door. The demon owl on his shoulder was dislodged, making for the rafters. Outside, Alaric stopped and leaned against the wall, too aware of bile stinging his throat. Shona crouched near a drift now, pulling off a gauntlet and wiping the back of a hand across her mouth.
“I’ve never seen anything so awful in my life,” she whispered.
Alaric nodded, squatting beside her. “Are you all right?” he asked, knowing his own face was probably just as pale as hers at this moment.
Shona looked shyly at him and nodded. Her nose was running, and Alaric fought the urge to wipe it for her. “I don’t usually get ill, but…”
“Don’t worry,” Alaric said. “I may still get ill myself…”
Fenelon cursed again, the shouted, “Alaric, get this demon away!”
Alaric pushed back to his feet and slipped inside. Vagner had flown down and perched atop the chest of the corpse…
“Vagner! What are you doing?” Alaric said.
“You would have me waste this when I am famished?” the demon said.
“I thought owls were not carrion eaters,” Alaric said with a frown.
“A starving demon has no choice,” Vagner said. “Now give me my form and let me feast…”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Fenelon said with a sharp glance at Alaric. “At least not before I have a chance to scry all this…”
“This is Tane’s work,” the demon said. “What more do you need to know.”
“The manner of the spell. Its purpose…”
“Divination,” Vagner said plainly. “Why do you think he took the eyes? He devoured them as part of the spell. I’ve seen him do this before. This way, he absorbs what they saw, or so he claims.”
“Oh, Horns,” Alaric said, and his stomach churned bitterly with the thought of Tane committing such an act.
“Let me do this my way,” Fenelon said.
The owl sighed and looked at Alaric. “Well?” Vagner said.
“Come on,” Alaric insisted and held forth his arm. He wanted to get back outside before he started to retch.
The demon reluctantly deserted the corpse. Fenelon knelt at its side, and Alaric gladly returned outdoors where Etienne was casting a warming spell about Shona and the ground. Alaric willingly stepped into the warmth to join the women and wait.
“Unfair,” Vagner muttered and puffing his feathers, he hopped from Alaric’s shoulder to the ground. “You are as bad as Tane, forcing me to wear this ghastly shape and not letting me feed…”
“And what would Tane do to you for such a remark?” Alaric asked, glaring at the demon. “Or do you enjoy the thought of Fenelon toasting you with lightning?”
“Point taken,” Vagner said and hopping along, he flapped his great wings and took to the air. “In which case, I’m going rabbit hunting.”
“I’d ask you to bring us one, but I’m not certain it would be sanitary,” Etienne said drolly as she settled on conjuring a more comfortable space. She used her magic with care, weaving elemental essence of air and earth. Within moment, the snow parted and the ground had sprouted chairs and a table, and the air had hardened into walls to keep the wind away. “Much better,” she said and reached into her pack to draw out the supplies necessary to make a pot of tea.
Such practical uses of magic, Alaric mused. He gladly accepted the hot steaming mug she held out for him and relished the warmth sliding down his throat and washing away the bile.
Eventually, Fenelon came out of the hut to join them. He dropped into one of the conjured chairs as though it had been there all along, and accepted the mug of warm tea Etienne pushed his way.
“He failed,” Fenelon said.
“Are you certain?” Etienne asked.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Fenelon said with a nod. “Part of the mutilation was performed in anger. No concentration. The spell told him nothing.”
“So where is he?”
To that, Fenelon shrugged. “Down there in the valley, like as not,” he said. “Can’t seem to scry into that. It’s not a void, but it’s not penetrable either. Probably the reason his spell failed. Nothing can see into that mist…”
“I can.” The gleeful voice startled all as a rabbit plunged from the sky and landed in the middle of the table. “Your coney, my lady,” Vagner added as he swooped down to perch. “Now, little master, if you will give me my form, I shall gladly clean up the remains in the hut.”
Alaric hesitated, glancing at Fenelon.
“Might as well,” Fenelon said with a nod. “It told me all it could, and if we actually plan to sleep in that hut tonight, we might as well have it clean…”
“But what about the dignity of the dead?” Shona said, looking a little disturbed.
“Better to be devoured than left to rot in ignominy,” the demon said.
Shona cast him a surly look and shook her head.
Alaric sighed. He looked at the demon, “By your True Name, be as you were,” he said.
Vagner whooped and launched himself into a
backwards somersault from the end of the table that landed him on clawed feet where he shimmered and stretched and rose to tower above the small party, stretching those chiropteran wings. Shona gasped.
“I forgot how large he was,” she said.
“In my world, size does matter,” Vagner said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Not yet,” Fenelon said. “Alaric, hold him here.”
“Why?” Alaric and Vagner chorused.
“Because, he said he could see into the mist,” Fenelon said. “And before he feeds, I want to know where Tane is…”
“I am considerably more cooperative on a full stomach,” Vagner said darkly.
Fenelon glared.
“What does it matter if he eats first,” Etienne said. “I’d just as soon he did get rid of that body so the stench will leave.”
“I agree,” Alaric said.
“And I,” Shona said. “Dignity withstanding, the stink is terrible even out here.”
Fenelon frowned. “Overruled, am I?” he said. “Very well.”
Alaric motioned the demon towards the hut. “Go on, Vagner,” he said. “Fill your belly.”
“With pleasure,” the demon said and disappeared into the hut.
Within moments, the air was filled with the sounds of him gorging. Looks were traded across the table. Alaric shook his head. Then Etienne lifted the dead coney by one leg.
“Does anyone remember how to skin one of these?” she asked.
“I’ll do it,” Shona said in such a practical manner no one argued with her.
~
Vagner took the corpse apart and devoured it with practiced ease. Dead flesh was not as satisfying as live, but it filled his belly and he was starved. The owl form had gorged on smaller things frequently, but since they had fled Eldon Keep, the demon had found little time to indulge.
True to his word, Vagner cleaned up every hint of the remains. And he was about to smudge away the circle when he froze. Something flicked at him, something familiar and chilling that whispered to his True Name.
No! the demon thought.
The temptation to become smoke and wind grew strong, to make himself something invisible. But that call would not be so easily deceived.
He knows I still live, the demon thought.
Quickly, Vagner rushed from the hut, practically sliding in the snow as he stopped at the table.
“Tane knows I am here,” he said.
“What?” Alaric said.
They all rose as one. “Where is he?” the Greenfyn demanded.
“In the mist,” Vagner said. “I’ve got to hide. He’s scrying us. He knows I’m here…”
“Not what I wanted to hear,” the Greenfyn hissed. “Alaric, can you draw a shield around yourself?”
“What? How?” Alaric said.
“Simple enough. Like building the walls in your head, only you concentrate on stretching them outward.”
“But why?”
“Because once you block yourself, you can extend that ward to cloak the demon,” Fenelon said.
“Be quick, then,” the demon said. “I feel him searching, and if he chooses to summon me, I may have no choice but to obey him.”
“All right, I’ll try,” Alaric said and closed his eyes.
Vagner held his breath. He felt the magic the young mageborn invoked. Warm and soothing compared to that from afar, its comfort veiled the demon. Within moments, he could no longer feel the other call. Vagner relaxed, sinking to his haunches. From there, he looked into Alaric’s strained face. Eyes opened, and the demon offered the equivalent of a smile. At the sight of it, the little master hitched back.
“Well done,” the demon said. “The call is gone…”
“This is why he should have stayed an owl,” Fenelon said.
Vagner merely sneered.
FORTY SIX
Fenelon wanted to get closer to the mist, but he made Alaric and Shona stay behind. Rather than let him disappear alone, Etienne accompanied him. She frowned when he insisted on carrying a bundle of faggots from those piled around the hut, wondering if he thought they would have need of a fire. We can use magic to stay warm, she thought.
He used a gate spell to cover most of the distance, sighting on the distant fields of snow. Etienne felt something was not quite right within this place, and it made her grateful he chose to continue on foot rather than touch the strange magic in the air.
The world was a great deal colder here too. The wind that cut them from the far northwest carried the odor of ice. Etienne increased her warming spell. She was grateful for the thick fur cloak Gareth had supplied her.
Fenelon stopped, on hand on his hip, and peered at the mist that rose like a wall and sent tendrils curling about. It reminded Etienne of some tentacle-laden, living creature she had once observed in the southern seas when she first traveled from Ross-Mhor to Ard-Taebh. She felt just a little apprehensive as she stopped beside Fenelon and studied the undulating swirl of the fog. Interesting, she thought, for in spite of the furious wind that whipped about them, the mist hovered and shifted in a leisurely manner.
“This is a strange place,” she whispered.
Fenelon nodded. He was not in one of his more talkative moods. She knew, of course, he wanted to concentrate, and so stilled her tongue to wait. The flicker of his mage senses reaching outward touched her. He was trying very hard to draw essence from the world without letting the theft be felt. Wise, she would agree, since they knew Tane was in the area. He might notice too swift a gathering of power.
Etienne looked down and pushed her foot through a drift of snow. Her boot found rocks slick with ice below the surface. And something else…Grass frozen into hard blade-like shards where it grew in crevices between the stones. Ignoring Fenelon, she knelt to satisfy her curiosity and brushed more of the snow away. Beneath its layers, she found more signs of life’s sudden change, including a hare. It was caught in a pose that indicated it has just looked up before it was frozen. The bits of nibbled grass still projected from a corner of its mouth.
“How very strange,” she muttered.
“What?” Fenelon ceased scrying and looked down at her. Etienne pointed to the hare. He squatted beside her, one eyebrow rising in amazement. Tentatively, Fenelon reached out and touched the hare. “Solid as stone,” he said, “Look here, you can still see every hair and whisker in detail. Stories of the Great Cataclysm tell of such things, but I have never seen it for myself before now.”
Etienne nodded and stood once more. “Did you find anything out there?”
Fenelon shook his head and rose with her. “No. Whatever magic is here, it’s thick and distorted. It’s a wonder the demon could sense Tane at all.”
“They are bonded,” she suggested with a frown.
“Aye, I suppose that’s it…” Fenelon pulled his cloak a little tighter. “Let’s go closer,” he said and started forward.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Etienne said. “What if we get lost in that fog?”
“I get lost in a fog every time I’m near you, love,” Fenelon said with a smile.
“Fenelon, I’m serious,” Etienne said, tempted to push him down in a snow bank on principle. “If it’s hard for you to scry in this mist because of the magic, it will be hard to find out way back out as well. There will be no way to sense out the direction. We might even step into a void or off a cliff…”
“I’m fully aware of that,” Fenelon said and waved one hand in dismissal of her concern. “Why do you think I brought these along?”
He slung the bundle of faggots off his back and started breaking one of the thin sticks into pieces the length of his arm. Then he thrust one into the ground upright so it stuck out above the snow.”
“Clever,” Etienne said.
“Father used to tell me a story about a beggar lad whose wicked stepfather kept leaving the lad out in the woods to have one less mouth to feed, and how the lad always found his way back with a trail of breadcrumbs and sticks.
”
“What a terrible story,” Etienne said. “Was your father contemplating leaving you out in the woods?”
“I don’t think he would have told me the story if he was planning that, though I do remember some threat about leaving me in the swamps of Mallow if I didn’t behave,” Fenelon said,
“Apparently, it didn’t frighten you in the least,” Etienne said with a wry smile.
Fenelon shrugged as he walked a few steps and stuck another stick upright in the snow. “Moral lesson aside, I thought it was a clever idea. Here, break these for me will you. Oh, and loan me your staff, love.”
Etienne nodded, trading her staff for the bundle. Breaking the sticks, she handed them to Fenelon who placed them at visible intervals. He prodded ahead with her staff for good reason, for at length, they came to an edge where rock descended into white. By then, the mist was all around them, thick enough to distort anything more than a few arms length away. It was all Etienne could do to keep track of Fenelon’s cloak, which she noticed was white and invisible against the landscape. Fortunately, that crop of red hair was slipping out of the mouth of the hood and giving her a visible reference point.
“Hmmm,” Fenelon said, kneeling at the edge. He scraped under the snow and found a frozen stone which he used the end of her staff to thump free. Then he tossed it over the edge. It clattered as it bounced down a face of rock, and the echo gave Etienne the impression of something vast and deep. “Hopefully, there’s a path,” he said.
Etienne frowned. Something suddenly did not feel right to her. Something to do with the mist. She closed her eyes briefly. An aura of danger rode on the air. Oh, dear, she thought.
“If we’re going to go down there,” she said abruptly, “I think we should go back and fetch the others first. Personally, I don’t like the thought of leaving Shona and Alaric alone back there.”
“It’s not like he’s going to rape her or anything, Etienne,” Fenelon said. “Alaric has more self-control and morality than you are willing to credit him for. I mean just because he forgot himself a little around you that day.”
“I am not worried about Alaric not behaving like a gentleman, since he is more of one than you at times.” Fenelon’s brows quirked in response to her declaration. “I’m worried about them being alone and unprotected. What if Tane should return to the hut?”
Dragon's Tongue: Book One of the Demon-Bound Page 36
