by Clare Smith
Sarrat looked at the sorcerer in disbelief. "You’re mistaken, magician. My affairs are the only thing of importance to you and you will obey me."
Maladran staggered under the onslaught of Sarrat's fury magnified by the torc around his neck and the insatiable demands of the demon which fought within him for release as each fought for dominance. His long ago vow of fealty tore at him with a physical pain but the needs of the demon magic were too great.
"I have no need of you anymore," hissed Maladran. "You have released me from the bonds which held me to you."
"Wrong, Maladran, I command you because I own you."
The torc at Maladran's throat burst into a brilliant red glare and his control snapped as flames leapt into his mind and consumed the being which had once been Maladran. Demon magic suffused his mortal body in a fiery glow growing into an inferno in front of the horrified king and his terrified soldiers. Horses reared and fought to escape as the raging flames in front of them grew and twisted. Within the centre of the flames the dark shape which had been Maladran became lost whilst the golden torc, stretched and changed, grew larger and denser.
Sarrat and his men drew their terrified horses back and pulled their swords as a massive, elongated darkness with glowing eyes took shape in front of them.Then it was free and roaring above them, a scaled head with wide nostrils, burning eyes and glistening fangs, snapping down and sheering men in two. The long spiked tail whipped around as the demon passed, swiping men from their horses, crushing out their life with the power of its muscular body.
The dark wings held the demon aloft, weaving in and out of sword range with arcane agility. A massive scaled foot reached down and vicious talons grasped Sarrat's body, heaving him from his horse and piercing chest, abdomen and back in a welter of blood and torn flesh. Sarrat's death scream was lost in the demon's roar of triumph as it clutched the mangled body and sped into the sky, westwards towards the Blue River and the setting sun.
*
Pellum whistled a cheerful tune as he rode Sansun towards the arched and open gates of Alewinder, the city’s honey-coloured stone glowing pink in the final rays of the setting sun. Behind them the last vestiges of the thorn forest dwindled to nothing and the ruptured earth settled back into smooth green turf. Jonderill walked at the silver horse's side, one hand on the knife he’d taken from Perguine's body and the other opening and closing around nothing, missing the feel of the old iron sword at his side. Pellum had claimed both horse and sword as his right as a prince of the six kingdoms and a trained warrior. Jonderill, despite his misgivings, hadn’t argued after the Prince had once again sneeringly reminded him of his lowly place as his servant.
Ahead of them stood the walled city with the spires of the palace towering magnificently at its centre. It seemed strange to Jonderill that there should be no movement in a city which had always been so full of life. There were no people coming or going through the massive gates, no liveried guards walking along the wall and not even a sky flyer in the faultless sky where the first light of the northern star proclaimed the approach of night. There was no sound either, just the steady thud of Sansun's hooves against the soft turf as it rose gently upwards towards the city gates. It was so quiet that Jonderill could hear the pounding of his own heart.
A sudden tingling in the back of his neck and along his arms, as if he’d been nettled, made Jonderill dive to the ground at the same instant that Sansun leapt sideways in a bucking prance. With a horrifying scream that ripped apart the unnatural silence a dark shadow flashed passed and swooped upwards leaving a clash of talon and fangs clipping together in the space where horse and rider had stood a moment before.
Jonderill clambered hurriedly to his feet, desperately looking around for the source of the attack whilst Pellum dragged at Sansun’s reins bringing the horse to a shuddering halt. He pulled the battered sword from his belt and for a moment they looked at each other wondering if they had both imagined the sudden attack. A change in the pressure of the air made them look towards the city where, from between the palace spires, the creature appeared, black wings swept back and the long neck extended as it hunted its prey.
Pellum froze, unable to take his eyes off the approaching horror that was making straight for him. At the last moment his torpor broke and he raked his spurs along Sansun's sides, drawing blood and sending him into a springing leap forward. Discarding his sword, as if its presence burnt his hand, he whipped the reins from side to side against his horse's neck and again gouged his spurs into the stallion, goading the horse into an all out gallop towards the shelter of the city gates.
Left defenceless and exposed on the hillside, Jonderill dropped flat to the ground as the demon swooped overhead. One extended talon ripped into his back, tearing flesh and muscle and the spiked tail whipped around missing him by a fraction as he rolled away leaving blood on the grass behind him. The demon climbed upwards in a scream of frustration and a flurry of leather wings.
Blood ran down Jonderill's back and fire burned in his shoulder and ribs when he tried to move his arm but he’d been lucky; no bones had been broken and no vital organs damaged. He picked himself up and with his good hand grabbed for the sword as the demon circled in a high, banking curve and plunged downwards again. It passed over Jonderill’s head at less than an arm's length ignoring him, intent on striking at the fleeing horse and rider.
As it banked around a wing dipped into Jonderill's reach and his iron sword bit into the dark flesh, slicing through the leathery wing from body to tip. The creature wavered in the air as it closed on Pellum and Sansun as if it were desperately trying to maintain its level flight but the deflection was enough for its snapping jaws to miss its retreating prey. Pellum raked his horse's sides again in a last surge forward and then yanked back on the bit to bring Sansun to his hocks so he could dive safely forward into the protection of the deep archway beneath the city walls.
With obvious difficulty the nightmare creature powered into the air, its one usable wing shining like wet leather, maintaining its upwards flight whilst the tattered remains of the other trailed behind as it fought to keep its equilibrium. Jonderill watched it go, his heart pounding with fear and pain but encouraged by having struck a disabling blow against the vicious monster. His triumph was short lived. He knew the demon would return and this time he would be the focus of its attack.
Running as fast as his injured back would allow he made his way up the hill towards the safety of the archway with the creature circling overhead but Pellum used his horse to block his way. With only a dozen paces to go he veered away from the city gates in a desperate attempt to find somewhere safe and to lead the creature away from the sleeping and defenceless inhabitants of Alewinder.
Jonderill heard the demon approach from behind long before he reached the crest of the hill where a stone wall edged the Blue River. The sound of the wind whistling through its broken wing moaned like tortured souls and he ran as fast as he could for the protection of the wall. Before he reached it he knew he wouldn’t be fast enough to draw hellden's creature away from the city or to make safe his own escape, so, when the demon's steaming breath beat against his back he stopped and turned to face the creature. He defiantly stood his ground with his sword held high in the hope he could reach the demon’s throat before the massive jaws closed around him but the creature was already upon him.
As it flew passed its sinuous neck twisted so that its jaws could close from behind its prey and the talons were extended forward to hold him in a death grip. Jonderill plunged the sword upwards and felt it scrape uselessly across scaled flesh before a leathery wing beat him to the ground. He waited for the jaws to close around him but the killing strike never came. Instead the creature was bowled over in a frenzy of twisting wings and lashing tail.
Sansun screamed his battle cry and charged his enemy again, this time head on using his iron-shod hooves and ripping teeth instead of the weight of his muscular body which had knocked the swooping creature from the air. The ho
rse reared and brought his sharp front hooves down on the demon's good wing, smashing the bones and tendons which held the leather membrane to the scaled body. Sansun's teeth attacked the back of the creature's neck as if it were an enemy warhorse but scaled plates, as thick as any knight's armour, resisted the long, snapping teeth.
The demon whipped its neck around shaking the horse free but Sansun reared again, crashing his hooves down on the demon's shoulder in a move which should have crushed ribs and broken bones but his hooves bounced off the scales on the creature's sides. The demon staggered under the assault and Sansun attacked again, his teeth ripping into the demon’s underside and gouging into unshielded flesh. Burning blood sprayed into the horse's nostrils momentarily blinding the attacking horse.
He leaped back with a scream of pain and fear whilst the demon's tail lashed around and caught him squarely on the shoulder, bowling him over and over until he came to rest in an unmoving, twisted heap. In triumph, the demon let out a high-pitched scream, like metal being drawn across stone and then lifted its head to renew its search for its prey. It twisted its sinuous neck until its burning red eyes focused on Jonderill, standing now at the top of the rise with his sword drawn and ready in challenge.
Another scream tore the air as the demon lumbered forward, the useless wings trailing behind as the massive talons ripped into the earth to heave it onwards. Each step shook the earth and was accompanied by the whine of tortured air as its spiked tail lashed from side to side and its head whipped backwards and forwards like a venomous dirt crawler, all the time focusing in on its prey.
Jonderill swallowed hard and held the iron broadsword too tightly in his sweating hand whilst the other hung uselessly at his side. His sword arm tingled with the presence of arcane power, the sensation growing stronger as the red-eyed demon approached. He’d watched Sansun make his second attack and had seen the creature torn by the horse’s teeth so he knew the demon could be destroyed. He also knew that only a deep, penetrating strike to the soft underside of the neck where it joined the body would do the job. Only that way would a blade reach to where the heart was located. The problem was how to reach there with the old iron blade when savage fangs and half a dozen strides of armoured neck stood in the way. He took a nervous step away from the low wall at the river’s edge and waited for the moment when he would close with the beast.
At twenty paces Jonderill could smell the creature's acidic blood dripping onto the ground and the stench of the corruption on its breath. At a dozen paces he could see the terrible white fangs dripping with saliva and the glowing red eyes, then, the demon screamed, neck outstretched and mouth agape. Jonderill stood his ground and waited, a fear burning within him like he’d never known before. The demon made a sudden, powerful surge forward, its jaws snapping shut where Jonderill's head had been a moment before, but he’d dived sideways at the last moment into a tight roll.
It would have been a good move if the creature’s scaly body hadn’t collided with his arm sending the sword spinning from his hand. With unexpected agility, the creature whipped around and lunged in for a second attack before Jonderill had time to properly regain his feet. Breathlessly Jonderill scuttled backwards until the sharp stone of the river wall stuck into his back, blocking any further retreat. He looked around in desperation but the iron sword lay more than an arm's reach from his feet.
The demon turned and let out a deafening roar of triumph before moving in on his victim for the final time. At three paces it reared up high above its prey, its jaws open ready to engulf Jonderill's head and shoulders whilst its glowing, ruby red eyes locked on the pale green eyes of the man beneath it. For a moment it faltered and then let out a tortured scream, which could have been a name but Jonderill never heard it. In that instant of hesitation, he lunged forward for his fallen sword, rolled upright onto his feet and plunged it with all the might he possessed hilt deep into the demon's chest. The creature’s scream turned to one of agony, taking on an almost human tone.
Jonderill stood rooted to the spot, defenceless against the rush of steaming blood or any immediate counter attack but, instead of turning on him, the creature remained frozen. It towered motionless above him for several heartbeats and then began to shimmer and fade. The massive outline became hazy and clouded, losing all solidity as it swirled into mist and evaporated into the night air. Within the mist a darker shape reformed and out of it the black-cloaked Maladran took a faltering step forward, clutching the hilt of the iron sword which penetrated his chest and protruded out of his back.
The black depths of his eyes reached out and held Jonderill's pale green eyes and a small smile lifted the edge of his mouth. Emotions of warmth and care and affection flooded Jonderill’s senses as Maladran stepped towards him. "Sarrat told me you were dead," whispered the sorcerer. "If I’d only known you were alive it would never have come to this but now it’s too late and I’m so sorry.”
Maladran closed his eyes to break the contact and the black cloak and robe fell gently to the ground with a soft sigh of expelled air, enfolding the golden torc and the bloody iron sword.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
True Love’s First Kiss
Jonderill didn’t move but stared down at where the magician had stood only moments before. A flood of emotions washed over him, turning the bitterness of Maladran’s betrayal which he’d lived with for half of his life into a confused mixture of love, loss and sorrow but, most of all, regret. Regret not only for himself and all the summers that had been wasted unfairly hating Maladran but regret for the magician whose humanity had been destroyed by Sarrat's lies and his soul damned to hellden.
His vision blurred at the thought of Garrin and his wife and Perguine and all the others who’d died horribly because Maladran believed he was dead. Perhaps if he’d not given up so easily on the magician and had kept faith in him, he would have sought out the truth instead of giving in and then no one would have died.
As he heard Pellum approach he removed the gold torc from the black garments and slid it into the inside of his shirt. Pellum wouldn’t understand why he needed to take it and he didn’t care to explain. The prince reached down and withdrew the old iron sword from the black robes, which immediately fell to dust and were carried away by a sudden breeze. He sheathed the sword and gave Jonderill a playful dig in the ribs with his elbow with a huge grin of satisfaction on his face.
"That didn't turn out to be as bad as we thought it would, did it? It was just a case of getting into position and letting the creature fall on the sword. After all, it was only made of air and dust."
Jonderill looked up ready to make an angry retort but the sight of Sansun standing at Pellum's side with no more injury than a coat matted with dirt and twigs and a mane flecked with blood, turned his acidic comment into a smile of relief which rapidly changed into a wince of pain as he remembered his torn back.
"You're injured, boy. You'd better have that seen to as soon as we reach the palace and do what needs to be done."
Pellum turned away and swung easily into the saddle, urging Sansun into a trot so that Jonderill had to run to keep up his expected position at the Prince's side. Sansun set off clearly favouring a front leg, which he could barely put to the ground. "Sansun is injured, Your Highness," Jonderill gasped. "It would be better for him if you were to get down and walk him."
Pellum looked down and scowled. "Don't presume to tell me what is best for my horse, boy. He'll make it to the palace all right. I can hardly arrive to claim my bride on foot like you, a common servant, now can I?"
"I don't think anyone would notice, Your Highness, they're all asleep."
“That's not the point. I will know and so will you." Jonderill didn’t say any more, he was too tired and too sore to argue and Sansun seemed to be bearing the burden of the arrogant prince more stoically than he was.
As they approached the city gates Pellum slowed their pace to a walk and they passed under the archway and along the silent stree
ts like two intruders. Sansun's hooves rang out clearly in the stillness, echoing from wall to wall in counterpoint to Jonderill's soft tread. Citizens in a deep sleep rested in chairs or slouched across tables outside inns and ale houses whilst others sat on walls or leaned against doorposts, a look of peace and tranquillity on their faces.
At first there were only a few people, mainly farmers or vine workers, arriving at the city with the setting sun but, closer to the palace, the crowds grew thicker and thicker until Pellum had to dismount to pick his way through. Here people slept in the streets, leaning against each other in contented, happy groups. Young lovers held each other in their arms whilst families nursed children or carefully propped up ageing grandparents. Baskets of food, untouched by decay, lay half eaten and flagons of wine, ale and cider, fresh as the moment they were poured, lay everywhere, untouched but still ready to drink at the celebration to come.
The scene inside the palace courtyard was almost the same. Guards posted outside the tower doors leaned against its walls or on halberds, breathing as gently as those asleep on the parapets. Two pages lay curled up in a corner with a litter of soft puppies whilst a squire leaned against his master's horse and snored loudly. Heralds rested on the parapets with their horns clearly visible and a flock of skysoarers rested in the topmost dish of the silent fountain.
"Well, where do we go from here?" asked Pellum as he looked around him, his voice sounding coarse and overloud in the silence.
"I'm not sure, Your Highness, but I would guess the magicians’ tower might be a good place to start."
"Why on earth should it be? I'm looking for a princess, you know, not a witch. We'll start in the royal apartments and then go onto the Great Hall."
Jonderill shrugged slightly and then wished he hadn’t as pain coursed through his shoulder and back. Reluctantly he followed Pellum to where Lowis and Barrin stood in their accustomed place outside the door to the royal apartments. He was glad to see Barrin there but was amazed at how much he’d changed since that night in the stables four summers before. Still, he supposed, he’d changed as well. Pellum eased passed them, not caring to disturb them from their sleep and then thought better of it and stepped back before he actually touched the door.
