Demonkin

by T. Eric Bakutis

  “Water.” Anylus offered two canteens. “Drink.”

  Byn snatched a canteen and offered it to Sera, but she forced him to drink first. Kara took the other and drank as well. The water of the Layn was cool, clean, and wonderful, and it did much to settle her blush.

  Byn was like a brother to her, Sera like a sister, and this might be one of the last nights they spent together. If Anylus took exception to their hugging, he could go jump in the river. “I told them the plan.”

  “Excellent.” Anylus crouched by the fire. “Will you help us? You have no obligation to do so.”

  “We've got nothing better to do.” Byn leaned close. “Though Sera's the one really helping you. I'm just here for moral support.”

  “Sera knows the Hand of Ruin, Anylus.” Kara saw no harm in telling him. He already knew Sera was Demonkin. If any glyph could destroy Abaddon, it was the Hand of Ruin.

  “Sera,” Anylus said. “How are you feeling?” His question was simple, but its implication was not.

  From what Kara had read, a mage grew more powerful the closer they came to succumbing to the Mavoureen inside them. If Sera had figured out how to use the Hand of Ruin, it meant the demons had influence over her beyond what Kara was comfortable admitting. How many more days did Sera have before their influence overpowered her?

  “I'm me,” Sera said.

  “It's been over three weeks.” Kara had to be certain Sera remained sane. “You have what? Four days?”

  “Three and a half.”

  “How can you be certain you're thinking clearly? Is that demon—”

  “It's in me,” Sera said, and her voice shook just a little. “It’s growing stronger every day. I feel it, and I hear it, but I'm not listening. It knows about my execution glyph and it's not happy.”

  “But it's not controlling you,” Kara said.

  “No,” Sera said. “I’m still me.”

  “The Mavoureen aren't taking her,” Byn added.

  “We hope.” Sera squeezed his arm. “I wish I could give you a better assurance, but I can only tell you how I feel. I feel like me.”

  “Kara,” Anylus said, “my andux orn specialize in detecting the taint of demon glyphs. I see that taint around Sera’s soul, strong and green, but no demon possesses her yet. She speaks the truth.”

  “And I'll stay in control,” Sera said. “My demon won't take me, at least not before we reach Pale Lake. I traded my soul for this power and I want to use it to end this. Melyssa would want that, wouldn't she? To end this?”

  Kara shuddered as she remembered the worst of Sera's tale. Melyssa was dead now — a headless body shambling around Terras — and they were all quite certain Jyllith murdered her. That wretched woman had betrayed them one last time, after she got Melyssa alone.

  Kara had not known her great-grandmother well — they had only spent a moment together in the aftermath of Terras, before Kara left — but knowing Melyssa was dead still hurt. Kara had respected Melyssa's judgement, trusted Jyllith, and she would not make that mistake again.

  “I believe you,” Kara said, because this was her Sera. Her best friend. “I'll stay with you until we fix you. Until the end, if it comes to that.”

  “Actually,” Anylus said, rubbing his beard, “it may still be possible to save Sera's life.”

  “What?” Kara and Sera spoke at once.

  “Think about all we know. This Demonkin cult has existed for years, perhaps decades. From everything you've told me, Cantrall took his first apprentice almost ten years ago. Jyllith.”

  “Right.” Kara saw where he was going. “So you think—”

  “Once a Demonkin scribes their first demon glyph,” Anylus said, “they have perhaps a month before they turn. Yet Cantrall plotted and planned for years, and he retained his soul. His cult has existed for years as well, and they’ve certainly used demon glyphs. So how are they not cursed?”

  “They sacrificed innocents.” Byn scowled. “That's the cure, Anylus. You give the Mavoureen an innocent soul in place of your own.”

  “But is that the only cure?”

  “You think the Demonkin know something we don't?” Kara asked. “Some way to delay the curse, even lift it?”

  “It is merely a supposition. Yet who would be more knowledgeable about this taint than the Demonkin themselves? What if they have a cure, one that does not involve an innocent soul?”

  “If they know about that,” Byn said, “then we'll have a long talk.”

  “It's a possibility,” Sera said, “if a slim one. Regardless, our primary goal is to stop the Mavoureen and end their threat. We have to put that first.” She glanced at Kara. “And we’ll rescue Trell. Agreed?”

  Kara nodded because she had to. Her hopes about saving Sera had been crushed too often to raise them now. An unknown cure was a small chance at best, but it was a chance. Kara would take it even if Sera would not.

  No matter what happened at Knoll Point, Kara would not leave until she knew for certain. She would reach the town, close the portal, save Sera's soul and save Trell's life. Everything she wanted.

  “Anyone want to sleep?” Kara rose and stretched. She had slept a good four hours and was filled with energy.

  Byn and Sera rose together. “We can sleep when we're across the Layn,” Byn said. He glanced at Anylus. “Any ideas about that?”

  “Just one.” Anylus tucked his hands once more into the sleeves of his robes. “That's what I was doing while Kara slept, binding wood with ice and earth.” He motioned to the river. “I've constructed us a raft.”

  AFTER ALMOST A WEEK OF RIDING, Xander and his “escort” emerged from the snaking, tree-choked length of Highridge Pass. The ruins of Highridge Fortress stretched before them across a scrub-dotted plain. The wreckage of ancient black towers jutted like broken fingers, remains of a great fortress torn apart in the All Province War.

  Xander called a halt and slipped from his horse, a big brown gelding named Storm. One of Haven's best. It was time to take another directional reading and give the rest of the riders time to eat.

  Just behind him Ona slipped off Chesa, a brave mare now far from Solyr. His wife wore a brown travel cloak over a thick wool sweater and lined riding pants. Mynt's brutal winters got cold, even on this side of the Ranarok, and Ona had dressed appropriately. She carried a fine ash bow and a quiver of arrows covered in Xander's glyphs.

  “You need to eat too, you know.” Ona placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “You ate nothing this morning.” Behind her, Chesa snorted softly.

  Xander had ignored his grumbling stomach for most of the afternoon, pushing Storm hard and forcing the others to keep pace, but his wife was right. Ona was right a great deal of the time. He had lived almost twenty years without her and refused to add one more to that tally.

  “I'll eat.” Xander covered Ona's hand with his own and squeezed. “I want another reading before it gets dark. Would you mind brewing some lerild soup?” His words misted on the chill air.

  Mages mixed that special brew with chunks of meat and rare herbs, many of which Xander had taken from Anylus's private stash. Unlike carrow root, these herbs enhanced a mage's ability to scribe blood glyphs, at a cost. The soup was addictive.

  “Coming up.” Ona kissed his hand and joined the others to start a campfire: Tania, Aryn, Erius, and three of King Haven's handpicked legionnaires.

  Led by First Sword Dynara Keris, Haven's legionnaires claimed they were here to help, but Xander knew their real purpose. Haven was not so confident they would return as Ona seemed to be. Xander didn’t blame him.

  Dynara was here to ensure they came back, but that assurance came with a cost. She and her soldiers had traded their heavy armor for boiled leather, allowing them to ride at the pace Xander demanded. A legionnaire without heavy armor was an unhappy legionnaire.

  For several days now, Xander had feared Kara meant to enter the Unsettled Lands. If she did that, only he could follow without having his skin torn off. Fortunately, this morning's reading
had Kara moving south, toward the Layn. Taking those readings was getting progressively harder.

  Some power interfered with each of his searches for Kara, likely Adept Anylus. The adept's power pushed at Xander like a deep current. Thus far, Xander had won each time they struggled, but he needed that soup.

  All Anylus had to do was beat Xander, once, and take a sharp right turn. Each day Xander did not catch him was another day closer to Kara's death or, if the Mavoureen were involved, her soul torn apart. He had to catch up with Kara before Anylus took her ... wherever he was taking her.

  Xander sat, open-legged, as Aryn and Tania chattered about something or other. He tuned them out and opened his mind to the rhythm of the world. Varyn, his father, had taught him to do this when he was very little. He had also cuffed Xander's head every time he failed.

  Varyn had not been a particularly good father or a particularly nice man, but he had been a good teacher. Xander owed as much of his prowess with glyphs to Varyn as to Melyssa, even if he still hated them both. They had stolen almost twenty years from him and Ona.

  Time lost meaning as Xander sat. Soulmages trained to project their souls beyond their body using glyphs, but their clumsy and limited method only allowed them to move a league in any direction, tethered to their bodies. What Xander was doing was different, older, a relic of the Ancient language and something he had never shared with anyone save Ona.

  Xander sang.

  The words of the song made no real sense, defined only by the meaning in Xander's head. Understanding the Ancient language and singing it aloud required clarity of thought difficult to achieve in the best circumstances. Before the time of blood glyphs and academies, in the first days of existence, there had been many singers and they had shaped the world.

  Torn had been the best singer the Five Provinces had ever seen, using the Ancient language far more often than clumsy blood glyphs. Xander could never approach Torn's abilities, but he did have the man's blood inside him. So did Varyn and so, Xander knew, did Kara.

  Xander focused on Kara's blood, on the unique element their bodies shared, and that focus allowed him to reach out to her across leagues. He focused on his overwhelming love for his only daughter. When his soul left his body, it was like being pulled aloft by a current of air.

  Xander streaked across leagues of scrubland as a bird might drift on the wind, an experience as exhilarating as it was disorienting. If he was not careful, he would forget who and what he was. Drift forever.

  He zipped across the thick Layn river and found Kara camped far beyond it. How had they forded the river, and how could his large party follow? That was a problem for later. No wards thwarted Xander, and that alarmed him more than the absence of Adept Anylus. Where was he?

  Xander gasped as he recognized a greenish demon aura wrapped around a woman's body, one warming herself beside Kara. A Mavoureen possessed that woman, a demon wearing a person as clothes. That body was Sera Valence, or had been — but now she was a demon in flesh.

  An impact slammed into Xander’s mind, an impact like a rock into his nose. Xander pushed back as the inside of his head throbbed and his blood heated. As his skin tingled and sweat burst along his pores, Xander knew why Anylus had declined to ward Kara.

  He planned to melt Xander's mind instead.

  Xander focused as Varyn had taught with all those cuffs to the head. He focused his will and hatred on the invisible wall pressing down upon him, an effort like pushing a heavy cart uphill. He pushed that wall away.

  Soon, it was Anylus who struggled as Xander pressed that wall of force down upon him, crushing him alive. A horrific fate, even for a traitor, but if Xander crushed Kara's captor, Kara might stop running. If only he could speak to her without ending his song!

  As Anylus screamed and thrashed, Xander watched Kara leap up through his spectral eyes. She ran to Anylus. Xander did not like that she had to see this man crushed, but what choice did he have? And even if he killed Anylus, what about the demon inside Sera’s body?

  Kara looked up, looked at Xander. Stared right at him. How could she see him? How was this possible?

  Kara sang back.

  Chapter 23

  DARK INTENT AND BITTER TONALITY hit Xander hard enough to destroy his sense of self. For countless moments he flailed, drowning in a void. Who was he? What was he?

  “Xander,” a woman whispered. “Come back to me. I love you. I’m never losing you again.”

  Ona. His Ona. Xander remembered just enough of the land outside Highridge Pass to reach for it like a drowning man reached for debris in a shipwreck. The fingers of Xander's soul brushed land slippery as oil. He grunted and pulled.

  Xander's eyes snapped open, his joints and muscles stiff. He choked as his body remembered how to breathe. It was like being born again, terrifying and difficult. Would his traumatized body remember how to live?

  Boots stomped as a crush of people arrived, but Xander could not make out faces or recall names. His mind had been mangled by his encounter with Anylus and his daughter. He had to mend it.

  Xander's body would handle breathing and pumping blood. It was his mind that he now needed to repair, an effort like patching hundreds of holes in a shredded quilt. By the time he finished, the dark sky held many stars.

  Xander grunted and found Ona kneeling beside him, gripping his hand and praying. As if the Five would care. At least it made her feel better.

  “Ona?” Xander's throat was dry as sand, but he could speak. He could remember his wife's name and his own.

  Ona clutched his arm and leaned close. “What happened? Do you know where you are?”

  Xander clenched her hand. “I'm with the woman I love.”

  “You’re also lucky to be alive.” Tania settled at his other side, blond hair glistening in the moonlight. “I know a bit of bloodmending, enough to diagnose injuries I cannot cure. You were bleeding inside your skull.”

  “Well, I'm not anymore.” Xander tried to sit up, but his abdominal muscles betrayed him. “Help me up.”

  Ona slid an arm beneath him and Tania did too. Together, they helped Xander sit. Despite the pain in his gut and all over his body, Xander knew his injuries could have been much worse. He was lucky to be alive.

  “What happened to you?” Tania asked. “More importantly, is it going to happen to any of us?”

  Xander grunted. As much as he had disliked Tania when they first met, she had an infectious charm. Five days on the road had softened his opinion. As for Aryn, Xander glowered at him as often as he could. Aryn needed his mind on catching Kara, not groping his comely new girlfriend.

  “I'll reheat your soup,” Ona said, before locking eyes with Tania. “Don't you let him move. I mean it.”

  Tania inclined her head. “Yes ma'am.”

  Xander tried to watch Ona move off, but his neck stabbed his head with pain. Better to rest and recover. When and how had Kara learned to sing?

  “You fought Anylus again,” Tania said, once they were alone. “This time you lost. What happened?”

  “I didn't lose,” Xander growled.

  “Then someone else intervened. Kara?”

  Xander scowled at her. When Tania pulled facts out of thin air was when he got most annoyed with her. People were not supposed to do that.

  “She didn't know it was you, of course.” Tania considered. “Anylus must have her entirely wound around his finger. How will you convince her Anylus is false? What if she refuses to come home with us?”

  “I'll figure it out,” Xander growled. Even after a week, he found Tania's eyes and gaze disconcerting.

  Tania blinked like any other person, but her pupils were clouded. The surface of her eyes resembled a hard-boiled egg. Xander knew it was some kind of film that had grown over her eyes, forever ruining her sight, which made it all the more odd when she focused on him.

  “Kara's singing stays between us, understand?” Xander glared at Tania. “I won't have you worrying my wife.”

  “Sorry, Mister Honu
ron, but that’s your wife’s decision to make.” Tania smiled brightly. “We both know who's in charge.”

  Ona returned. She handed Xander a clay bowl filled with steaming soup. Xander's arms shook as he shoveled spoonfuls into his mouth until his fatigue faded.

  Lerild soup showed its effects rapidly, and this batch smelled strongly of garlic and spices. Ona had tried to mask its bitter taste.

  “What happened tonight?” his wife asked.

  Xander considered lying to her. He told her the truth instead, and when he finished Ona stared into the dark. Wringing her hands.

  “Did you teach Kara to bloodsing during your journey back from Terras?”

  “No.” Xander wiped soup chunks from his thick beard, using the sleeve of his warm brown cloak. Hygiene was the last of his worries now.

  “Where did she learn to sing?”

  “Not from Anylus.” Xander hoped he was right. “It's possible Kara retains some memories from when Torn possessed her. Torn's bloodsinging was instinctive, or so my father told me. When we talked.”

  “If I may ask, Mister Honuron,” Tania said, “how could Torn teach your father anything while in the Underside?”

  Xander glowered at her, but she only smiled in return. What harm was there in explaining things now? Only those who had the proper blood could bloodsing, and Tania did not.

  “Before he stepped through the gates at Terras,” Xander said, “Torn transferred his memories of bloodsinging to my grandmother. Melyssa Honuron. Melyssa could never sing herself, lacking our unique blood, but she passed Torn's techniques onto Varyn. He passed those onto me.”

  “And now, apparently, to our daughter.” Ona shuddered. “What is Anylus doing to Kara? Could he alter her memories, like Cantrall changed Jyllith's memories about those revenants? Turn her against us?”

  “Probably not.” Xander would lie about that. “Also, there's a bit of good news. Kara's not alone with Anylus any longer. Sera and Byn are with her now.”

  He did not mention the demon. If he revealed that, Ona might never sleep again. He needed her focused and calm.