The Demon's Call

by Philip C Anderson

  “I’m lookin to make it past tomorrow, Brech. After that, the armies of Coroth will do what they can and what they will.”

  The king nodded. “So they shall.”

  Russ felt their conversation coming to its close. “Your Majesty,” he said, awarding the king his styling as he considered his knowledge of Arnin. They’d passed the point of politics and of their words offending the other. Might not get the chance to chat again. “There’s one last thing I need to tell you.” He paused, and Brech placed his hands on the desk to face him squarely. “About half a year ago, a serviceman from the Mazim Estates contacted me and made me aware of—happenings—at Arnin.”

  He explained up to finding the passabridge the week before, leaving out the names and people involved except for the man at the beginning. “I went searching for one thing and found another entirely, a mystery I’d have had time to unravel forgiving the present circumstances.”

  Brech remained silent, his visage stoic while he considered Russ’s words.

  “The quartermaster at Karhaal,” Russ went on, “also made me aware of demonic agents at Karhaal, in our governments in Yarnle and Borliee, even right there at Arnin. I don’t know if that and my sleuthing could be connected. I just needed to make you aware.”

  For a half-minute afterward, the king didn’t speak, until he said, “A fire, once lit, cannot be undone, Grand Master. It can only burn its course. If that’s all, I have another meeting to which I must attend.”

  Russ nodded. “Your Majesty. Don’t let me keep you.”

  Brech watched him. “If I don’t speak to you before, good luck tomorrow, my friend.”

  Russ let the king have the last word, and Arnin cut the call. He sat for a few minutes, pondering why Brech had seemed so untroubled about Pinny. Perhaps he already knew. He’s king, after all. Nothing happens in that castle he’s not aware of. Still, if the king knew already, what did that mean? It felt too close to D’niqa for Russ to gain any comfort from Brech’s cool demeanor, and questioning the king, acting toward him as an equal—superior in ways—felt foreign. And no one seemed concerned about the demonic agents, like they thought he joked about them or something.

  He left the meeting room. Alerix joined him, and they walked the halls of Rhine’s first floor.

  “… Already got scouts skulking the Hills-over and the bluffs off to the east,” the lieutenant said. “If they’re porting in, it’s through passabridges in the forests. Remember how much of a problem they were during the last?”

  “I do,” Russ said. By the War’s end, the dragons’ buffeting had proven a blessing—the Order could no longer port in and out, but neither could the demons. “How are our numbers looking?”

  “Coming in droves now. A conservative estimate would put us at a gross-thousand by morning.”

  Damn. That’s sparse. “Good. Strategies?”

  “Being worked on as we speak. Got our top minds on it, as you know. That Willa—she’s a character. Has a wicked mind on her. I might suppose it was a good idea to deputize her, even though she’s a Priest.” Alerix tapped the right side of his nose.

  “You suppose?”

  The Warden huffed. “Old albunes.”

  “If not for her, a few days ago may have been a different story.”

  “Gods, that show in the courtyard. Hardly believed it until I saw it myself. Almost made me feel bad for not getting to Karhaal sooner.”

  “Almost?”

  “What good would I have done? I’m a strategist, not a warrior. Not like you and Jeom. Pragmaticism and Problem Solving, the words of the Silver Scythe. I’d wonder what the Priests’ proclivities are. Do you reckon most of them can fight like her? Would have asked the Undertaker, but she wouldn’t meet with any of us.”

  “Wouldn’t even meet with me.” They stepped around a self-serve refreshment vendor that rolled slowly down the hall.

  “I mislike it. Nothing in Karhaal should surpass the Grand Master’s word. Doesn’t matter how long he’s been gone. The Goddess Karli takes us each on our own path. You’d think people of the Order would appreciate such a sentiment.”

  “His Majesty told me Madam Undertaker wanted to, but he’d tied her hands, so to speak.”

  “Madam Undertaker.” Alerix tutted and spoke through a clenched jaw. “Arnin meddling. A member of leadership pretending anything could supersede your word. Disgraceful, on both counts.”

  They spoke until they reached Russ’s room. Alerix in general belittled Priests, philosophized about the fledgling War effort, and opined peanuts, among other things. “Hardy foodstuffs, given the right conditions. We might commission them being added to the field rations.”

  “Sure,” Russ said. “Might also think about pumpkin seeds, too.” He took a deep breath. “I’m gonna rest, I hope that’s not”—

  “We’ll do all right without you for a few hours.” Alerix smirked as he leaned toward the Grand Master. “I dare say we’re all a bit used to it.”

  Russ laughed for a breath. The comment filled him with hope rather than despair, that despite his absence, perhaps they’d be able to move toward a future that didn’t devolve into contemplations of would-haves and could-haves. “See ya in a few.”

  The door closed behind him, and for a few precious seconds, Russell let his mind clear of the clutter it had gathered in his short time awake. He’d not had time to process the forest, how it met with the time before and after, and he didn’t know much of what had gone on for the days he’d been unconscious apart from what Grenn and Willa and Brech had told him.

  From his bedside table, his tablet buzzed, and Russ opened his eyes, not having realized he’d closed them. Hotel staff had remade his bed, and on the desk across from it waited a plate of hot food—a small cut of steak, a pile of mashed potatoes, and a portion of spiced pumpkin. Next to it, a note, written in elegant cursive, read, ‘Lunch Menu, One Portion.’ Russ grabbed the fork that had come with it and speared a piece of fruit.

  It tasted as heavily spiced as it looked, and he wondered if everyone in Tanvarn expected their pumpkin prepared this way: so steamed it turned to mush in his mouth without having to chew, and so spicy he couldn’t taste the meat. Russ coughed for the aftertaste that caught in his throat and stifled more against his arm. He reached for a bottle of anise nectar that staff had sent with his meal and drained half the bottle. Its sweetness played into the pumpkin’s cinnamon.

  In the potato’s case, he found their presentation perfect—buttery and smooth. Hard to screw up potatoes, I guess, he thought, forking another bite. He took the plate to his bed and pulled his tablet from the nightstand to his lap.

  ‘When you get a chance,’ he read, ‘I’ve information on that query.’ Russ checked the sender. Sieku. A message a day since the one three days earlier, all at the same time—three minutes past six in the evening. Russ stabbed the steak as he dialed Sieku, and he tore off a piece between his teeth. Juice ran down his lip; he caught it with the end of his right sleeve.

  “Greetings—sir?”

  “I’m here, Sieku.” Russ held the plate away and leaned over the tablet.

  “Are you all right? I feel a like a cheap whore from down here.”

  “Goddess.” Russ switched the tablet with the plate and held the former at eye-level. It wouldn’t work—at least not comfortably. “Let me move.” He carried everything to the desk and wondered what material the chair had under its upholstery when he sat. The one on the second floor hadn’t been as nice.

  “That’s better,” Sieku said, drawing out the first word. “I’d wondered if it was the light playing tricks on me, but it seems you’ve lost a bit of your tan already, sir.”

  Russ cut a bite off the steak with the side of his fork. “Is that all?”

  “I’m sure there’s more. I’m ready to listen if you’re ready to tell.”

  “What do you wanna know? How much have you heard already?”

  “Pretend I’m aware of nothing.”

  Russ shrugged. “All ri
ght. So we got to Arnin”—

  He went through what had happened, everything.

  “What did I tell you, sir?” said Sieku, laughing. “You find a serren in a random forest and suddenly you’re unconscious for three days? I don’t find coincidence there.”

  Russ laughed, too. “And I ended up here, and I’m leading the Karlians”—his voice busted with a laugh at how ridiculous it sounded—“into the start of the next War.”

  Sieku threw his head back. His chair tipped backwards as he leaned against an armrest. “That’s terrifying! I’m not worried about you at all.”

  They howled for a minute and a half afterward, and when Russ had calmed, another round befell them until, finally, he took a deep breath and found a reserve of sanity.

  “What about you?” he said, wiping tears from under his eyes. “Tell me what’s goin on over there.” The last bites of potato had gone cold while he spoke, but he ate them anyway. The pumpkin too; it tasted better cooled.

  “All the stock is moved, sir. We can’t sell another until mid-Spring. At least that’s what I’ve told people. The royal inventory is well handled.”

  “Try to preserve those Light canisters if you can. I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to refill them.” The thought of one day, perhaps soon, being back on his farm with Lillie elated him, but the path to that future rested in obscurity and fog. A pit formed in his stomach when he imagined facing her the next day, and he took what paltry solace he could that daybreak wouldn’t come until after he’d slept.

  “It will all be better when you’re back, sir. It’s gotten quiet without you—boring, too. The most fun I’ve had is settling a dispute between harvesters four and five.” Sieku saw the inquiry on Russ’s face. “A nearly-serious squabble over a four-hundred square meter section of land that either insisted the other had taken from them.”

  Russ frowned. “Four and five haven’t acted up before. How’d ya solve it?”

  “They’re simulated intelligences, so I wrote it outta their code. Now neither of them does it, and we’ve got a bald patch of land in the middle of sector Minin. Oh, and that just gets worse.”

  “Serrens?”

  “Nothing so horrible, sir. Though I have heard their patters. I’ve been good about seeing to them, especially without your—caring nature.”

  “Don’t go killin ‘em”—

  “Who do you take me for? I’m not cruel, I just don’t like them. But I’ve simplified my relocation process. Handles the same function in a fraction of the time.”

  “That’s—good?”

  “Indeed. I’ve got the rovers refilling the Underground, but as always, it never seems enough.” Sieku chuckled and said to himself something like ‘share the hunting.’ Russ didn’t press him on it. “As I was saying, people have come looking for you, sir. They’re not as blind as the king thought they might be. His Majesty says demons are back and suddenly you’re gone? It doesn’t take much to”—Sieku brought his index fingers together.

  “How’ve you handled them?”

  “How else? I’ve told them you’re not here and to get the hell off your property.”

  Russ flinched. “You could be a bit less abrasive.”

  Sieku’s voice became a mechanized version of itself. “Er, I am robot. If you please, this Master’s property. Shoo.”

  “All right, smartass.” Russ couldn’t help but chuckle. “Speaking of abrasive, I spoke with Kendra’s urlan, Reight”—

  “That urlan is a tool, and if someone doesn’t get him handled, he will cause a problem down the road. Had a scour of his databases—all the projects he’s got going on”—

  “Spare the details. I guess just make sure he doesn’t end the world while we’re trying to save it.”

  “I will, sir. Anyway, if you’ll pardon the second interruption, we can get to what I have for you. I’ve finished querying what you told me to find before the world had its episode.”

  “Right,” Russ said. It felt so long ago.

  “Nothing had come up by the morning you left, and that continued for days until—and I hope Ms. Drander wouldn’t find offense with me poking around her documents; she needs to get better security—I found a log for a shipping manifest from three years ago that she’d only scanned into her databases days before this all started. Now I don’t know if this means anything to you, but there’s an island off the northeast coast of Yarnle called Kivrenkin. Would you believe me if I told you there’s—some bad stuff going on there?”

  “No reason not to,” Russell answered. Though he cared about Sieku’s research, his devotion to the topic wavered as did his ability to stay awake. But his memory nudged, and he folded the word in his mouth. “Kivrenkin. Sounds familiar. I’ve heard it before, but”—he shook his head—“yeah, I can’t place it.”

  “That’s not surprising, sir. Technically, it doesn’t exist. The name’s only used by the people who work there. Now what all they do is a mystery—even to me—but why are my databases connecting that island to Yarnle electors and the scepter?” He waited a few seconds. “That’s an honest question.”

  “Dunno. Sieku, I just—I just want you to exercise caution, especially after what Luff told me. Keep yourself safe. Don’t dig too much into this if it’s dangerous.”

  “I’ve got interviews lined up with a server bank and couple service urlans who used to commission there. Other than that, there’s not much to go on.”

  “That’s”—Russell yawned. The food had set upon his stomach. “That’s great, Sieku. You’ve done well.”

  “I’ll have a bit of information for you later about Karhaal’s sister-states. The data should finish compiling tomorrow.”

  They watched each other for in a few second’s silence.

  “Since you seem to be flagging, and in bit of a change of tack”—Sieku breathed. “Well, I’ve become rather attached to you. You not making it back here eventually would—would sadden me.”

  Russ set the fork on the plate with a dull tink and pushed the dish toward the table’s left edge. “I want to come home, too, Sieku.” Because he did think of Keep as home, a place where he could live a quiet rest of his life.

  “I—I’m gonna go down to the river. Just watch it, like we used to do sometimes. Been years. Might find a modicum of peace there ‘til I hear from you tomorrow.”

  “Wish I could join you.”

  “Sir,” said Sieku, uneven. His mouth hung open. Russ had never heard the warble that accompanied his urlan’s voice. “I wish we had more time. May the Light ever illuminate your path.”

  Russ nodded. He ran his thumb over Sieku’s image. “The path will remain.”

  Sieku looked at the camera, then to the screen where Russ’s stream fed to him. Without another word, he ended the call.

  Russ leaned back. A pain caught in the upper part of his right thigh, and he fished the soul stone from his pocket. He looked over it, heard the whispers that pattered like mice. The stone’s cut splintered light across its irregular edges, and that flit of dark energy parsed through it, like a star moving through a galaxy. Fragments of a beast, pieces of an ancient animal entrapped in amber, floated in and out of view within. He tapped the stone on the desk and raised it a couple inches. With a small infusion of energy, it suspended, and Russ pulled his hands away.

  The chair tilted back when he shifted his weight. He didn’t want to think of what would come. Doing so wouldn’t change having to face it in the morning. Burned mint still clung to his clothes.

  Outside, the sun had vanished behind the Lea Mountains, its light lost in Tanvarn’s valley and the streets of the Lower City, and the comet had grown to a dragon’s wing in the northwestern sky. Russ fancied for a passing moment that he could ride one into battle the next morning, triumphant and terrible like the Leynar of Old. Then he gazed upon Uniquity, a dragon of his own that had smote countless nether creatures to ash the same. Its runes smoldered their milky blue.

  Before he gave way to rest, he opened an applicati
on on his terminal to set an alarm for three the next morning. While he waited, he ran his finger around the device’s edge, and his nail caught on a piece of paper, which pulled from its hiding spot. ‘Russ,’ it read, written in a careful scrawl. A short message inked across the page, and he recognized Kendra’s hand. Theatrics, Kendra? Really?

  He read.

  ‘Russell,

  ‘I’m sorry for leaving again. There come points in peoples’ lives where the cost of staying somewhere becomes too great to themselves and others. In my life’s symphony, those moments came in the summer of ’43 and the fall of ‘52. It’s one of the biggest regrets of my life that I left you to go through your loss alone. Though it’s hard for me to admit, you’re the subject of a lot of my regrets. If I needed an excuse, which this isn’t, greed inspired most of my actions then. Even now, I guess—looking out for me, trying to secure for myself before others.

  ‘I’m not ashamed of the way I acted or of what those actions led me to do, but at the same time, I couldn’t be around you, unable to help or—do much of anything. To see you be with her and then watch you hurt so much was…’—a drop of ink fettered the page here—‘I couldn’t.

  ‘If you awaken in time, I’ve gone to Arnin to invoke a meeting with the king. After that’—more drops of ink blotted the paper—‘damn it, I’m bad at this shit. Try to stay in touch.

  ‘Kendra

  ‘P.S. You speak so formally when you talk to demons. It’s odd.’

  He dropped the paper on the desk and leaned back, pondering what he might say to her, but nothing came to him.

  His body felt as heavy as concrete, yet the chair cradled him like a cloud, and his feet lifted off the ground when he leaned an inch further back. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in the better part of two decades, his instinct let sleep take him.

  A shape gained form in his mind’s eye, rising as quickly as it fell. He didn’t enter pense, but watching the shadow unfocused his mind enough for it to relax and meander toward other thoughts. Ghostly hands sifted through ash. A dog padded through alleyways.