Demonkin

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Was that real?” asked D'Cavan.

  “Why you?” asked D'Wycaram.

  “You should not need to ask about the realness of our master,” scowled the head demon. “As for why I have been chosen, the answer is simple. While you three are favored for your continued diligence to his principles, I alone spent the last thousand years trying to free Alutar from his imprisonment.”

  “Did he speak to you?” asked D'Lycind.

  “He did,” D'Artim grinned. “Our plea has been heard. We are to obtain four elven women to create a new breed of demonkin. Each of us shall spawn a creature to track down and kill the Knights of Alcea.”

  “What will be special about them?” asked D'Cavan.

  “Each will be unique,” explained D'Artim, “and they will be much more powerful and intelligent than the K'sans. They are to be known as the Claws of Alutar.”

  “This is exciting,” grinned D'Cavan. “I shall send for the women immediately.”

  “No.” D'Artim shook his head. “Ordinary elven women will not suffice. The chosen women must hail from the lineage of King Elisar, the ancient king of all elves.”

  Chapter 2

  Illusionist

  Waxhaw was a major hub of transport on the west coast of Vinafor, and it had existed for over a thousand years. While many parts of the city had been modernized over the centuries, the old part of the city still remained the same with its narrow, twisting alleys. The shops were tiny by modern standards, and few people bothered to visit the old district any more. Still there were items available in the old district that were not available anywhere else.

  The old man meandered down the narrow alleys as if merely out for a morning stroll, but his eyes constantly flicked left and right as if he were searching for something particular. Deep in the warren of the old district, the old man halted in front of a narrow shop that bore no sign. The small window fronting the shop was so dirty that it was impossible to see through, and the shop's location, exactly where the skinny alley turned, would have made most people pass it by without knowing that it existed. The old man was not put off by appearances. He put his hand to the door and smiled with surprise as the door actually opened. He strode into the shop and heard a small bell announce his arrival.

  The tiny shop was packed with books. Bookshelves ran the length of the two walls, and only a narrow pathway led between them. Even that pathway had piles of books cluttering it, and the old man had to step carefully to avoid damaging the books. At the far end of the pathway was a small table with a curtain behind it. He halted at the table and waited for the proprietor to appear. After several minutes had passed, and no one had come to greet him, the old man stepped around the table and passed through the curtain.

  Beyond the curtain were more books, and the air was musty. There were no bookshelves to hold them, so the books were merely piled one atop another, and the piles reached nearly to the ceiling. The old man moved through the piles and soon found himself at the rear of the shop. A tall, thin, blond woman sat on the floor reading a weighty tome. Beside her on a piece of cloth was a glass of water and a piece of moldy bread. He stood watching the woman for some time, but she seemed oblivious to his presence. Eventually he felt compelled to speak.

  “I do not see how you can ever make a profit at this business,” the old man said. “For several days your shop has remained closed, and when it finally does open, you pay no mind to your customers.”

  The woman looked up with a startled expression on her face. Her face blushed with embarrassment as the words of the old man registered. She gently put down the book she had been reading and rose to her feet.

  “I am sorry,” she apologized. “I must not have heard the bell.”

  “For days I have not even been able to make the bell sound,” complained the old man. “The door has been locked.”

  “I forget sometimes,” the woman said sheepishly. “Is there a particular book that you are interested it?”

  “Do you happen to have a copy of Shelman's Treatise on Auroras?” asked the old man.

  “No.” The woman shook her head emphatically.

  “How can you be sure?” asked the old man. “You have thousands of books here.”

  “I am sure,” declared the woman. “I know every book in this store. I have never even heard of Shelman's Treatise on Auroras. I do not have a copy. Do you have one to sell? I would be interested in obtaining one.”

  “There is probably nothing in it that you do not already know,” smiled the old man. “Why do you read so much?”

  “To read is to gain knowledge,” answered the woman. “Is there anything you want?”

  “Valera,” stated the old man.

  “Excuse me?” frowned the woman. “Do I know you?”

  “I am not certain,” the old man replied with a smile. “There are other ways to gain knowledge you know.”

  “But you called me by name,” the woman retorted with confusion. “I do not remember ever having met you. I know for certain that we have never done business before. I remember all of my customers.”

  “That should be fairly easy to do,” the old man chuckled as he looked around at the pile of books. “Your shop is certainly hard enough to find, and even harder to find open.”

  “I do not do a great deal of business,” admitted Valera, “but the shop suits me. Is there anything that I can get for you?”

  “Valera,” the old man smiled again. “It is not a book that I came to procure. It is you that I am searching for.”

  “Me?” questioned Valera. “I am confused.”

  “I know,” replied the old man. “You search for knowledge with a thirst that is admirable, but there is more to learn than what can be found in books alone. Close your shop and come with me.”

  Valera stared at the old man and slowly her eyes opened wide with wonder. “I do not even know your name.”

  “What is in a name?” the old man asked rhetorically. “Today I am known as Fakir Aziz. Close up your shop and learn more than books can teach. I have need of your skills.”

  Valera frowned as she gazed around at her piles of books. “Where will we go? How long will I be gone?”

  “Questions without answers,” sighed Fakir. “Where we go matters little now, and you might never return. There is danger in what I require from you. Does that scare you?”

  Valera thought for a moment before answering. “I am not a fearful person, but it would sadden me to think I might never finish reading all these books.”

  “These books were written by people who never had such an opportunity presented to them,” Fakir replied. “Come with me and learn.”

  Valera nodded. “Let me gather some things to bring with me.”

  * * * *

  In a small clearing just off the Calusa Road in Vinafor, four men and a woman settled in for the night. A fire burned brightly as Fakir Aziz cleaned up the cooking utensils and then retreated to a log to sit and continue his work on the cloak he had been toiling over for the past month. Valera sat on the ground near the fire, so engrossed in the book that she was reading that none of the other people in the group existed for her. Zynor, the old mage from the woods of Zarocca grabbed a brush and proceeded to stroke one of the unicorns. Theos, the firebrand mage from Tyronia walked over to a long log near the fire and sat next to Kalmar, the young healer from Herinak. Theos sighed with frustration, and Kalmar looked expectantly at the Tyronian.

  “What troubles you, Theos?” asked Kalmar.

  “What troubles me?” snapped Theos. “You can't be serious in your ignorance. What are we doing in this forsaken country? Where is the old man taking us? And for what purpose? How can you just follow him like some lost puppy?”

  Kalmar smiled and shook his head. “Every night you protest your own presence in this group, yet here you remain. Why do you stay?”

  “I don't know,” Theos confessed. “I should just get on my unicorn and depart. There is no point to our travels. Unlike you, Kalmar, I have been d
own this road before. The Calusa Road goes to the unimpressive city of Calusa and no further. Beyond the city is nothing but jungle and swamp. It is not a place that any sane man would wish to journey.”

  “Does it truly matter where we go?” asked Kalmar. “Why should our destination trouble you?”

  “Because anything worthwhile in life has a purpose,” retorted Theos. “How can you not be curious about our destination or purpose?”

  “I am curious,” admitted Kalmar, “but not to the point of mutiny. Evidently, Fakir Aziz does not wish to enlighten us at this point. I can wait.”

  “Is it that he wishes our goal to be secret,” replied Theos, “or is it that he does not know himself? I think we are merely wandering and picking up strays as we travel. Look at the woman who joined us in Waxhaw. She says nothing at all. It is as if we do not exist for her. Only her book matters. Why is she with us?”

  “I suspect that she is a mage of considerable power,” shrugged Kalmar. “Why does her joining the group cause you so much concern?”

  “Because this group is becoming a haven for misfits,” stated Theos. “Zynor spends more time with the unicorns than he does with people. I think he prefers their company to ours. Fakir spends every night on that cloak. A decent tailor would have finished it weeks ago. Why does he waste his time on it?”

  “Perhaps it relaxes him,” shrugged Kalmar.

  “And now we have a woman who does nothing but read,” Theos continued. “You and I might as well be traveling alone. You are the only one in the group that appears normal. How do you stand the boredom?”

  “Actually,” smiled Kalmar, “I find the travel quite enjoyable. Unlike you, I have never been out of the horse countries. I am finally getting to see what the rest of the world is like.”

  “The rest of the world?” retorted Theos. “I would hardly consider Waxhaw or Calusa as places worth visiting.”

  “There is much anger in your heart, Theos,” frowned Kalmar. “You should use this time to peer inside yourself and find the source of the anger.”

  “Now you sound too much like Fakir to please me,” scowled Theos. “Do you really expect me to sit around the fire night after night and watch everyone else vegetate their lives away?”

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” asked Kalmar.

  “There must be something to speed the time away,” answered Theos. “Maybe we could use our magic to entertain ourselves?”

  Kalmar's eyebrow rose at the suggestion and soon a smile spread across his face. “I suppose we could use some entertainment. How about a contest of a sort?”

  “Like what?” Theos asked with interest.

  Kalmar glanced around the clearing and smiled when he saw the pine cones littering the floor of the forest. “Let's have a small contest. Given five minutes, let's see who can create the largest pile of pine cones.”

  “A child's game,” scowled Theos.

  “Fearful of losing?” taunted Kalmar.

  “To you?” balked Theos. “You don't stand a chance.”

  “Then let's begin,” laughed Kalmar.

  Theos looked around the clearing and started levitating pine cones into a pile at his feet. Kalmar chuckled and began doing the same. Within moments the piles grew, and pine cones became hard to find. The two mages stood in an effort to find more cones to levitate, and the other mages glanced up to see what was going on. Zynor stopped brushing the unicorn and turned to watch what was going on. When he saw Theos and Kalmar trying to levitate the same pine cone to the piles in front of them, he understood the object of the game. He chuckled inwardly and walked towards the fire ring. Looking up into the darkness of the canopy, he cast a spell and hundreds of pine cones started falling from the trees. He deftly guided them to a pile at his feet.

  “You're cheating,” scoffed Theos.

  “Perhaps,” smiled Zynor, “but my pile is still bigger than yours.”

  Kalmar laughed heartily. “One minute left.”

  Valera finally tore her eyes from her book. She stared at the other three mages for a moment and then smiled. With a flick of her wrist, a pile of pine cones appeared before her. The pile was several paces tall, and she smiled with satisfaction.

  “That is an illusion,” accused Theos.

  “So it is,” smiled Valera, “but my pile is still larger than yours.”

  Fakir Aziz put down the cloak and stood up. He looked curiously at the piles of pine cones and smiled. Without a visible gesture, every pine cone instantly disappeared, including the illusion. The mages looked around in wonder. Every pine cone had been returned to its original location.

  “An interesting game,” Fakir said. “Perhaps a wise use of our evenings would be for the four of you to share your talents with one another. I presume that each of you is interested in broadening your skills?”

  “I would enjoy that,” Kalmar replied eagerly.

  “It would be preferable to boredom,” conceded Theos, “if we can get the attention of everyone else.”

  “I am always interested in learning,” agreed Zynor, “and I am sure that Valera will find more to learn from the group than can be found in her books.”

  The female mage glanced at her book with longing, but she nodded in agreement. “I want to learn all there is to learn.”

  “Then it is agreed,” smiled Fakir Aziz.

  * * * *

  Tedi and Natia rode along the Zinbar Trail approaching the city of Giza. They had passed numerous caravans and even a small army patrol since leaving Olansk, but the road was sparsely traveled.

  “I would have expected the road to be crammed with goods stolen from Tyronia,” commented Natia. “Where is all that stuff going?”

  “It is probably flowing down Blood Highway,” answered Tedi. “I get the feeling that Emperor Jaar doesn't feel the need to share with his cohorts.”

  “I did detect some animosity towards the Baroukans the last time we were in Giza,” remarked Natia. “Do you think we can use that to our advantage in some way?”

  “It is worth a try,” replied Tedi, “but we must be careful in doing so. We do not want to appear to be enemies of the Federation.”

  “I will test the waters with Judge Julius,” stated Natia. “Are we going to touch base with Headman while we are in Giza?”

  When Tedi didn't answer, the gypsy princess turned to look at him. Although he appeared to be looking straight ahead, Natia could feel the tenseness emanating from him.

  “What is the matter?” she asked softly.

  “We are being watched,” Tedi whispered. “Look casually beyond me and tell me what you see.”

  “There is a tall hill off the road quite a bit. There is a group of soldiers atop it, and they are watching us intently. Some of them are heading down the hill now. I expect that we are about to have company. Do we run?”

  “We would hardly be welcomed through the city gates if we show up at a gallop with an army patrol chasing us.” Tedi shook his head. “Perhaps they are just curious about why we are traveling alone.”

  “I don't like it,” frowned Natia.

  Tedi didn't reply. They rode on in silence for a few minutes and then the column of soldiers emerged from the woods. Twenty soldiers surrounded the couple, and the gypsies were forced to halt.

  “You will come with us,” ordered a colonel.

  “We are special agents for Sidney Mercado,” objected Tedi. “We are on our way to deliver a shipment to Judge Julius in Giza. I am sure that he would not appreciate a delay in our arrival.”

  “The judge will have to be disappointed,” the colonel said with an obvious lack of concern for the judge. “You will come with us.”

  The colonel turned his horse and started into the trees. Tedi and Natia really had no choice but to follow the officer, and the column of soldiers followed them closely. The colonel led the way through the forest and up the side of the large hill the gypsies had seen from the road. As they started down the other side of the hill, Tedi gazed downward with conce
rn. The bare valley was brimming with soldiers, and they were all involved in sparring of one type or another. The soldiers showed a discipline that was unlike what he had seen in the Federation armies so far, and the gypsy began to wonder if he had underestimated the professionalism of the enemy troops.

  The colonel led the way through the training field to an area of tents. One tent stood on a small knoll overlooking the others, and Tedi saw a man standing there with the stars of a general. A nervous twitch started in his eye, and he fought to control it. As the sound of the horses grew close to the tent, the general turned around to face the newcomers. Tedi's jaw dropped when he saw the face of the general.

  “Welcome Tedi and Natia,” smiled General Forshire. “Come into my tent.”

  Tedi and Natia looked at each other with relief. They slid off their unicorns and followed Clint into his tent.

  “Colonel Magee,” General Forshire called from inside the tent. “Set a privacy cordon around my tent. I wish my conversation to remain private.”

  The colonel called an affirmation to the general and then began shouting orders. The gypsies walked into the tent and Clint ushered them to chairs before sitting down himself.

  “Is it wise to bring us here?” Natia asked softly.

  “I think so,” smiled Clint, “or I would not have ordered it.”

  “Are we truly safe from eavesdropping?” asked Tedi.

  “We are,” assured the general. “My men are loyal to me alone, and most loyal of them all is Colonel Magee. He will guarantee our privacy.”

  “What are you doing so far from Despair?” asked Tedi.

  “Building my army,” answered Clint. “We just brought the last of them out of the jails in Giza. We are now two thousand strong. I was surprised to see you on the road to Giza. I thought you were heading for Valdo?”

  “We are,” replied Tedi. “Garth doesn't want us flying around unless it is necessary, especially to places where we don't know the terrain. Besides, we wanted to stop in Giza on the way, and that required us to go to Zinbar first as we owe Judge Julius some goods for favors that he performed for us.”