Demonkin

by T. Eric Bakutis

  Xander scribed another Hand of Land, wrenching up a mossy boulder and tossing it at Balazel. Even strong as the demon was, the impact smashed the Mavoureen back into the bog. If Balazel was going to spend all its time shouting threats, Xander would use that time to glyph.

  He dared not check on his allies. He dared not do anything but scribe and ignite blood glyphs as Balazel sloshed toward him. If he could stun the demon, get close enough to scribe one glyph on it, he could save his wife.

  “Pathetic!” Balazel shouted, but its once mocking tone shook with rage. At the least, Xander had made it very cross with him. Balazel charged through the bog like an enraged bull.

  Xander grunted as more blood burned away. His Hands of Heat seared Balazel's arms clean off, but those arms sprouted anew by the time Balazel splashed from the bog. Nothing should heal itself that fast!

  Xander spotted Aryn and Tania dragging a struggling Ona down the trail, to safety. Xander backed away from them, drawing Balazel to the forests of Rain. Dynara, Mat, and Zell fought off the disoriented dead, bodies animated with no purpose now that Balazel focused on Xander.

  “You've lost, old man.” Balazel bared sword teeth and spread its arms wide. “No mortal can stand against me.”

  “Still standing.” The cold world spun around Xander, but he made himself grin and scribed two more Hands of Land. “Lost a step?”

  Balazel slipped through the shadows with impossible speed. In a blink the demon was right in front of him. Xander floated above the trail.

  His boots dangled. Xander glanced down at his twitching body, trying to understand the white fire in his chest. “Oh.”

  Balazel had shoved its hand straight through his chest, buried its demon arm up to its elbow. Xander coughed and blood exploded from his lips. He pictured Kara's smiling face as Balazel held him high.

  “Pity.” Balazel's stinking breath seared Xander's nostrils. “I had hoped to make you watch as I devoured your wife.”

  Xander wished he could spend a few more quiet moments with Ona, hug Kara one more time before the end, but that had never really been his plan. His plan had been to save the others, and he could do that now.

  Xander scribed an astral glyph on Balazel's chest.

  ARYN LOCKE SWUNG HIS STAFF and sent two dead things flying into the bog, one after the other. That was when a cry rose behind him, a woman's scream. He spun, expecting to see dead things tearing Ona apart, but she was intact and staring down the path. Staring toward her husband.

  “Xander!” Ona shrieked his name.

  A brilliant flash opened in the bog. It rippled across the frozen water and hit the scrambling dead all at once, knocking them off their feet. Thunder rumbled as the light grew and then the world went dark. Terrifyingly dark.

  Splashes sounded all around them as Aryn desperately scribed another Hand of Heat. His hand ignited, surrounded by fire, and it revealed motionless dead bodies sinking into the frozen bog.

  There was no sign of Balazel.

  “Let me go,” Ona shouted. “Let me go!” She tore her arm away from Tania, leapt off the raised plateau, and rushed up the muddy trail. Toward her husband.

  Aryn finally caught sight of Xander's body, crumpled in red robes. His throat clenched as Ona sprinted down the path, calling Xander's name. So Balazel had beaten him. Where was the demon now?

  Aryn breathed hard as he scanned the bog for any sign of its terrifying visage, but Balazel was simply ... gone. Had the demon fled after it killed Xander? Or had Xander somehow sent it back to the Underside for good?

  “Where is he?” Aryn clutched Tania as she stared after Ona. “Where's Balazel?”

  “Somewhere far away.” Tania squeezed Aryn's hand. “That flash? That was an astral glyph, Aryn. I think Xander teleported Balazel out of this bog.” She took a breath. “Or beneath it.”

  That was a clever way to deal with a very clever demon, and Aryn knew Xander had planned it all along. How badly had Balazel hurt him? Could they save Xander without a trained Bloodmender?

  “Tania,” Aryn said, but she hurried after Ona, limping at a reasonable pace. She would help Ona tend to Xander, get him on his feet.

  “Mat, Zell, watch for bodies,” Aryn said. “Dynara, tend to Erius.” For some reason, they all listened.

  In the distance, Ona knelt by Xander's motionless form. Her wail rose across the bog, a terrible wail Aryn had heard only once before. When his father told a woman her children died in a cart accident.

  They were not going to heal Xander. Xander was not going to lead them out of the Dead Bog. Kara's father, the man they had trusted to lead them through anything, was gone, and he was not coming back.

  If the Five planned to resurrect him, they would have done it by now.

  “The threat's over.” Aryn kept his voice steady through will alone. “Xander's very heavy, and Ona and Tania can't carry him. Help.”

  “Mat,” Dynara said, “stay with the mages.” She snapped her fingers at Zell. “With me, big man.”

  Eventually, they all returned with Xander's ravaged body. Ona had stopped crying. Her eyes were red, mud clung to her clothes, and blood soaked her travel cloak. Her dead husband's blood.

  Balazel had gored a hole straight though Xander's chest, and the sight of broken ribs was nauseating. The Mavoureen had literally crushed Xander’s heart. Despite that mortal wound, Xander had scribed the astral glyph that sent Balazel away. He had saved them all.

  Ona cradled her dead husband's head and shoulders in her lap, stroking his muddy hair. When she finally looked at Aryn, her eyes were haunted but hard. Kara was still out there, in danger.

  “Can you track my daughter?” Ona asked. “Through her blood?”

  Aryn had no idea how to do that, but he did have an idea that might work. He spotted one of the more recent corpses, a gruesome skeleton with some flesh still on it. He grabbed its arm and pulled it out of the bog.

  Tania grabbed his wrist. “You can't.”

  She knew what he was thinking, but of course she did. “I've been to the Underside, remember? My pact is complete.”

  “We don't know that.”

  “We also don't have a choice.”

  Tania stared at him for a long moment before stepping back. “Time to be a hero again.”

  Tania would not let the Mavoureen have his soul. She would kill him before the curse consumed him, if this cursed him, and that was a comfort. This wonderful woman would keep him safe.

  Aryn cut all four fingers on his right hand and scribed Davazet's glyph on the body. The corpse steamed, bubbled, and rose. When it was over, Aryn commanded a skeletal davenger covered in rotting scales.

  He glanced at Tania. “Am I cursed?”

  She pulled him into her arms and planted a kiss on his neck, his nose, his face. She let him go and nodded to the wary legionnaires.

  “Aryn is not cursed,” Tania said. “He's not Demonkin. I would see it, since that's my job.”

  “How—” Erius whispered, but Dynara shushed him.

  “She's andux orn,” Dynara said. “She'd know.” She helped Erius stand and stared at Aryn. “What now, commander?” The way she said it was not entirely mocking.

  Is that was Aryn was now? Their commander? Xander was gone and Ona did not look to be in any shape to give orders, not with her husband dead. Tania deferred to him as well, and the legionnaires waited.

  Aryn looked at his desiccated davenger. “Smell Xander's blood. Memorize it.” He pointed at the body.

  Aryn's davenger sniffed Xander's corpse and rose.

  “Do you have it?” Aryn asked.

  The davenger snorted.

  “Lead us to any others like it.”

  The davenger's nostrils sniffled and twitched. It limped off despite the fact that one leg was little more than gore-soaked bone. It followed the path through the bog in reverse, and Aryn took that as a good start.

  Now they just had to hope all the shrieking had not spooked the horses.

  JYLLITH TOOK THE DREA
M WORLD, prepared to fight whoever had snuck up on her as she strangled Xel, but then she recognized him. Andar. Andar wore hunting leathers covered in still wet blood and clutched a throwing dagger in his free hand.

  “Wait!” Jyllith shouted. “It's not what you think!”

  Knoll Point's leader raised one thin eyebrow. “What do I think?”

  “I'm not here to betray you!” Jyllith felt warmth flood her chest, a strange emotion after strangling a man to death and turning him into a davenger. “I’m here for Divad. He's summoning a force you can't possibly comprehend. I was trying to—”

  “Stop him.” Andar crept into the cavern and rose to his full height. “Yeah, I read your little note. You make a very elegant script.”

  “You believe me?”

  “I do now.” Andar scowled at Xel. “Divad rounded us up this morning using two fierce demons, monsters like your friend here. They tore my soldiers apart like rabid dogs. I lost fourteen before we surrendered.”

  “I'm sorry,” Jyllith whispered, and she meant it. Those fourteen dead people were more she had failed.

  “Divad herded everyone else to the south gate, said something about showing them a wonderful new world. I snuck off when he started ranting about golden gods.”

  Andar slipped his throwing knife into his boot, tucking away his only weapon. If Jyllith wanted to kill him, all she had to do was give her davenger the order. He knew that, and she knew now Andar trusted her.

  “If I asked you to help me put Divad in the ground,” Andar asked, offering an easy smile, “would you say yes?”

  “Drown me, yes.” Jyllith snapped the fingers that still worked at her davenger. “Follow me, and don't kill without my orders.” She strode past Andar.

  “Wait!” Andar called after her.

  Jyllith made herself stop through great effort. “Yes?” She turned to find Andar holding a rolled scroll.

  “Thought you might need this. Took it from Divad's study before I followed that little prick down the tunnel.”

  “That's...” Jyllith gasped. “The Alcedi scroll!”

  Andar's smirk grew. “You're welcome.”

  “Hold that torch high!” Jyllith rushed over, blood pounding in her ears. “Roll it out for me, please.”

  Andar did as ordered, holding one end of the scroll with his knee as his other hand spread it before them. He was careful to hold the torch where pitch wouldn't drip on the scroll, which meant he had handled documents like this before. Or he simply wasn't an idiot.

  As Jyllith stared at the scroll, the lines twisted and blurred before her. She reconfigured them inside her head. She studied the glyphs until she knew exactly how they worked, and something beyond her training made that possible. Hecata's touch lingered, influencing her thoughts, but Jyllith couldn't worry about that now.

  What mattered was the portal. Even if Divad's cult opened it before she reached the surface, Jyllith knew how to close it now. She understood the glyphs. Eight straightforward linking glyphs scribed in reverse.

  “What time is it?” Jyllith looked up.

  “Just before dawn.” Andar glanced back the way he had come. “Something bad happening at dawn?”

  Jyllith rose. “Not if we stop it. Bring that scroll, please.” She stalked up the tunnel with her hound davenger, its paws padding on rocky ground.

  Jyllith's burned arm and broken fingers pulsed with pain. She knew enough bloodmending to heal broken finger bones, if she had time, but she did not have time. She needed all her blood for the battle ahead.

  Jyllith led Andar through the tunnel. “There's something you should know. Divad's not trying to summon the Mavoureen.” Torchlight scattered their shadows across the walls. “He's summoning something worse.”

  “What's worse that a Mavoureen invasion?”

  “Alcedi.”

  “Never heard of those. More demons?”

  Jyllith winced as she remembered Cantrall's ranting and his wide, worried eyes. “I honestly don't know.”

  Andar sighed behind her. “I've known Divad Mere for years. I suspected him of using demon glyphs all along, but I needed the bastard. This hasn't been an easy war.”

  Jyllith did not blame Andar for tolerating Divad as long as he had. She knew the atrocities Andar had seen the Mynt commit, and they had both been at Firstwood when the Mynt sacked it. War was war and Andar still fought his. If Jyllith didn't plan to kill herself after she ended Divad Mere, she might consider joining him.

  They reached the end of the old mining tunnel just as the door slammed open. A big man in tattered leather stumbled inside, clutching a bloody cudgel. Klyde, the big man from the gate! Claws had carved furrows into his back and legs. How could he move?

  “They're scribing something,” Klyde rasped, as Andar and Jyllith both rushed to his side. “I ran when the hound thing got distracted by fleeing people.”

  Andar caught Klyde as he collapsed. “Divad did this to you?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Tried to stop him.” Klyde coughed and stopped breathing. Davenger poison worked very fast, and Jyllith blinked as she remembered Calun. Klyde hadn't been a bad person. She had actually liked him.

  Andar looked at her, eyes now wet. “Can you help him?”

  “Not now.”

  “Then I've got one more reason to murder Divad.” Andar set Klyde on the tunnel floor, a gentle gesture from a man who was anything but. He closed Klyde's eyes, took up Klyde's cudgel, and stalked to the exit.

  Jyllith eyed Klyde's fresh corpse, the demon in her head screaming at her to defile it, but Klyde had been a good man, a brave man, not Demonkin. Not Xel. Besides, even if she did try to scribe Davazet on Klyde's corpse, Andar would probably kill her for doing it.

  They stepped outside and Jyllith grabbed Andar's arm. “I need you to get your people out of here.

  “After Divad's dead.” He didn't pull away.

  “Before. Now. I can't worry about a bunch of panicked people when I'm facing davengers and Demonkin. I need you to get your people out of my way.” She also didn't want anyone else to die if she failed.

  Andar jerked his arm free. “Divad betrayed me and everyone in Knoll Point.” He stalked through the quarry to the northern gates. “He's mine.”

  “You're going to get everyone killed!” Jyllith stormed after him, but when she grabbed Andar's arm a knife jumped to her throat before she could react. Her davenger snarled and Jyllith screamed “Stop!”

  She held her hands at her side, barely daring to breathe. Andar could easily split her neck, yet she kept her davenger at bay. Waited and surrendered. She did not even know where he had hidden that knife.

  “Don't test me, Red,” Andar whispered.

  “Don't let everyone who put their faith in you die,” Jyllith whispered back. “You're the only protector these people have. That's why you kill, to keep them safe. Not for revenge.”

  Andar's blade hovered at Jyllith's neck, still bleeding from where Xel's knife had grazed it. “You’re wrong about that.” Andar released her and shuddered hard. “But revenge does get old after a few years.”

  Jyllith made herself breathe again. “I'm sorry about Klyde, about all of them, but we need to save the others.”

  “Klyde's been with me since we were boys. I'll miss that stubborn son of a bitch, but I'll get my people out of your way.” Andar walked again.

  “Thank you.” Jyllith strode after him. “As soon as we reach Divad, I'll engage and distract him. Rally your people and lead them somewhere safe, far from here.”

  “And you'll kill Divad. And his demons.”

  “I'll end them. I promise.” Jyllith made herself believe it.

  The sun peeked over the horizon as she put one foot in front of the other. By the time they reached the northern gates, the horizon had turned bright orange. Very soon now the gate would open and the Alcedi would invade, unless Jyllith stopped them. Unless she killed Divad.

  She and Andar rushed through the empty, all but abandoned town, her with her davenger and him
with Klyde's bloody cudgel. They reached an alley close to the south gate. Andar raised a clenched fist.

  They pressed against a cabin as Andar peeked around the corner, pulled back, and mouthed one word. “Demonkin.”

  Jyllith watched as Andar pointed two fingers south. Two people waited there. Then Andar pointed at her davenger and pointed one finger east, then west. Two davengers overlooked the square. Given Divad believed he was saving Knoll Point, its people likely cowered in the middle of all that. Waiting to meet his glorious Alcedi.

  Jyllith raised a warning hand and sat. She took the dream world and scribed a glyph Cantrall had taught her on the palm of her broken hand. She did not know if Cantrall's summoning sigil would work. She did know that assaulting the square would get those people slaughtered.

  She waited as the sun rose and chanting became audible in the distance. Divad's cultists had begun their ritual. Finally, Jyllith sensed the auras of a small group intrigued by her unique sigil and ready to do mischief.

  The Shifters had arrived.

  She knew Shifters favored lakes and other bodies of water, creating illusions to drown unwary travelers or send them screaming through the woods. Once again, Cantrall's training had saved her. Jyllith wondered how many times he would save her before she forgave him.

  “Ready!” she mouthed, and then closed her eyes and took the dream world. She scribed another sigil on the flesh of her broken hand. The Shifters drifted into the square, and then everyone started screaming at once.

  “Now!” Jyllith shouted.

  She and Andar sprinted into chaos. People ran in all directions, shrieking. Shadowy forms stalked the survivors, changing pockets of nightmare that shifted from clouds of spiders to venomous lizards to vaporous demons.

  The Shifter illusions even fooled the davengers, drawing the demons from specter to specter as they slashed and snorted at air. What they did not slash at, as Jyllith had hoped, were the panicked villagers. Good.

  Jyllith sent her own davenger at the nearest of the two davengers controlled by Divad and Rala. Spike. Neither Divad or Rala moved, which meant they must be focused on their complex glyphs.