Demonkin

by Richard S. Tuttle

  Max chuckled softly and shook his head in delight. He always enjoyed the exuberance of the little people.

  “They are fascinating creatures, aren’t they?”

  Max whirled around to face the speaker. His eyes grew large as he stared at Fakir Aziz. “What are you doing here?”

  “Here, as in Karamin?” chuckled Fakir, “or here, as in the woods outside your secret canyon?”

  Max dismounted and turned to face the historian. “Is there a different answer for each of those questions?” the Ranger asked in confusion.

  “Very much so,” smiled Fakir. “Why I am in Karamin is of no consequence to you or the people you are with.”

  “So you say,” frowned Max, “but everything that happens in Karamin is our concern. And how do you know about our canyon? I doubt that you could have ever been there.”

  “Actually,” smiled Fakir Aziz, “I was there last night. You have your hands full trying to join those two forces together. May I make a suggestion?”

  “I may not know who you are,” sighed Max, “but I know you well enough to know that my answer to your question will have no effect on your actions. You are going to give me your thoughts whether I want them or not.”

  “I do not always behave in such a manner,” replied Fakir, “but in this case you are correct. The Rhodans are not used to being in the company of men, and the Karaminians are treating the Rhodans as women and not warriors. If you can get the men to treat the Rhodans as fellow warriors instead of as women, relations between the two groups will quickly improve.”

  “But the Rhodans are women,” retorted the Ranger, “and fairly good looking women at that. You cannot expect a man not to be mindful of that.”

  “I understand,” smiled Fakir. “If the men can forget that they are women for a short while, respect will grow between the groups. They will begin to learn from one another. I am not saying that romance can be avoided, or should be for that matter. In fact, I can almost assure you that many romances will blossom out of this venture, but that cannot come to pass until the men first put gender out of their minds. The Rhodans need to be respected for their skills before they can move further along in this venture. Their mindset is one that has been cultivated over a long period of time. It cannot be easily brushed aside.”

  Max nodded in silence for a moment. “I think I can see what you are saying. I will make it happen.” Fakir made no effort to reply, and Max started fidgeting. His feelings towards Fakir were mixed. He somehow knew that the old man posed no threat to him, but he was wary of the secret ways in which Fakir maneuvered. There was something about the old man that bothered Max.

  “Ask,” commanded the historian.

  Max blinked at the command. He looked into the old man’s eyes and frowned. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  Fakir Aziz chuckled softly. “I put spells on your blade,” he explained compassionately. “One of them was a tracking spell that allowed me to find you whenever I wanted to. That is how I found your secret canyon last night. While I did spend some time observing your people, there was not a good opportunity for me to speak with you, so I didn’t. When your people spotted my group this morning, I knew that you would feel the urge to investigate. I merely waited until you paused to release the fairy.”

  “Alright,” Max nodded. “But why would you want to talk to me anyways? I am nothing special.”

  “I disagree,” smiled Fakir. “You are an extremely capable man, Max Caber. You understand some things in ways that no one else can envision. Your gift is in the way you can visualize something that does not yet exist, and you have the mechanical skills to create the object that you imagine. While it is not magical, your gift is a rare blessing indeed. That you always use that gift to make life better for others is a testament to your character. You are quite a special man after all, Max Caber, but death may await you in Calusa. Your desire to right the wrongs of others will call on you to do things that you might not survive. Are you prepared for such a final sacrifice?”

  Max’s eyes narrowed in thought. He knew that Kalina thought that Fakir might be the Mage, but the Ranger had little appreciation for what that really meant. Magic had never been a part of his life, and he knew little about it, but he had no doubt that Fakir was not talking about idle probabilities. Somehow, the old man was telling him that he would die during the coming confrontation. Was it to scare him away? If so, why?

  “Does death frighten you?” asked Fakir.

  “Death is inevitable.” Max shook his head. “While I do not seek to hasten its arrival, neither will I hide from life to forestall it. My life is pledged to Alcea, and that means that I must fight in Calusa. I can not walk away from the coming battle.”

  “I expected those very words.” Fakir nodded with satisfaction as he handed a bundle of cloth to the Ranger.

  Max took the dark cloth with a questioning glance at the old man.

  “It is a gift from me,” smiled Fakir Aziz. “Perhaps you will find a use for it in Calusa.”

  The historian turned to walk into the trees, but Max’s voice halted him.

  “What was the second spell for?”

  “On your blade?” asked Fakir as he turned around. “It is an aid for battling the demonkin. Tedi’s staff cannot be everywhere at the same time. You can be confident in its use, but always remember that when one demonkin dies, the others will know about it. Never dally over the corpse.”

  “Thank you, Fakir Aziz.” Max smiled thinly as his eyes glanced down at the cloth in his hands. “Thank you,” he said again after a moment.

  “Aren’t we being polite today?” quipped Runt as he landed on Max’s shoulder. “I am impressed that you heard my approach and even more impressed that you would thank me before hearing my report. I must be getting rusty with my stealthiness.”

  Max glanced up at Fakir Aziz, but the old man was gone. The forest was empty. He glanced at the fairy and smiled broadly.

  “I guess you are getting rusty,” he grinned. “What did you find on the road?”

  “Nothing,” frowned the fairy. “I think you have been led astray. There was no one anywhere near the road. What is that bundle of cloth? Where did you find it?”

  “Oh,” Max shrugged as he slid the cloth into his pack, “it is just a present from an old friend. No one on the road, eh? Well, maybe we should return to the canyon then.”

  Not far away, the unseen Mage watched Max mount his unicorn. The fairy slid into the Ranger’s breast pocket as he turned the unicorn and headed towards the secret canyon. The Mage smiled thinly and sent his thoughts through the forest to the receptive mind of the Ranger.

  Max blinked as the old man’s words shot through his head. “You must make your people alike before they can accept their differences. Question all, but remember, there are two sides to everything.” Max turned and glanced back to where he had last seen Fakir Aziz. He did not really expect to see the Mage, so the empty forest did not disappoint him. The Ranger raised a hand and waved farewell with a grateful smile on his face.

  * * * *

  The Tyronian mage frowned as he watched Fakir Aziz walk straight towards the group of mages. “He can see us! Your illusion is not working.”

  “My illusion is perfect,” retorted Valera. “I challenge you to do better.”

  “There is no need to bicker,” interjected Kalmar. “Fakir Aziz is no ordinary man. I doubt that any illusion could trick him completely.”

  The four mages lapsed into silence as Fakir approached the new campsite. When the Mage halted in the midst of the other mages, Theos could no longer hold his tongue.

  “We were being spied upon,” announced the Tyronian mage. “A small flying creature was looking for us.”

  “An adorable little man,” offered Zynor. “Completely green with wings, but a man he was.”

  “I thought we should shield ourselves,” explained Valera, “so I created an illusion. The creature left without knowledge of our presence.”

  “You
were gone a long time, Fakir,” frowned Kalmar. “Is everything all right?”

  “All is well,” smiled Fakir. “I am pleased that you worked together to ensure your safety. The creature was a fairy, and he would not have harmed you, but you were wise to conceal the presence of your campsite. Break camp. We must be on our way to Calusa.”

  “What waits for us in the capital of Karamin?” Kalmar asked curiously.

  “A warm bed and a hot meal,” smiled Fakir Aziz. “The stop in Calusa is merely for a rest in comfort - nothing more.”

  “Do we turn around and head back then?” pressed the Koroccan mage.

  “No.” Fakir shook his head. “We need to travel to the village of Smirka, but I have another appointment that cannot wait. I thought you four might enjoy a day in a city for a change.”

  “A bath and some clean clothes would certainly be welcome,” commented Theos as he completed the packing of his unicorn and eagerly mounted it. “Although, I doubt that the great city of Calusa has much to offer.”

  “I am sure they have a bookstore,” Valera said with eagerness.

  “We must find an inn that will allow us to tend to the unicorns,” commented Zynor. “I would not want to leave them to a stableboy.”

  “How long will you be gone?” asked Kalmar.

  Fakir closed his eyes and turned towards the northeast in silence for a few moments before speaking. “Secure rooms for two nights,” he replied softly. “That will be more than enough time for what I must do.”

  “You are awful secretive of these personal outings,” frowned Theos. “Where are you off to?”

  Fakir Aziz glared at the Tyronian mage, but his glare soon softened, and he sighed heavily. “There are others on another path from ours,” he said softly. “While their trials are not mine, they risk far more than I am capable of risking, and they do so selflessly. While our challenges are still far in the future, theirs are quickly falling upon them. I feel compelled to extend to them whatever small help I can offer. It is not something for you to be concerned about.”

  * * * *

  General Forshire followed Colonel Hardi out of the campsite in silence. He felt the eyes of hundreds of soldiers follow his progress through the camp and into the trees, but no one broke the silence with unnecessary questions.

  Colonel Hardi was one of the original soldiers who had escorted General Forshire from Ur to Despair, and he had blossomed into an impressive officer, as several of the others also had. In addition to being a good leader of men, he was a capable warrior, and he didn’t waste his breath with continual concerns for the general’s safety. He knew that General Forshire was more than capable of defending himself, yet the colonel was also ready to stand between his general and any attack that might develop. The two men rode away from the safety of the army campsite.

  Less than an hour later, Colonel Hardi halted with a raised hand. General Forshire rode up alongside the colonel and gazed through the trees at the small cabin in the distant clearing.

  “Has it been checked out?” General Forshire asked softly.

  “No,” the colonel answered. “Your instructions were carried out faithfully. It is the only cabin within leagues that does not show any sign of habitation, but that does not mean that it has been abandoned.”

  “Who knows about it?” asked the general.

  “I had a single squad searching this sector,” replied the colonel. “Only two scouts have actually seen the structure, but I would assume that the entire squad knows of its existence.”

  “Are there any recent recruits in that squad?’ asked General Forshire.

  “Certainly not,” answered Colonel Hardi. “I assumed that this operation required secrecy. The squad is one of our oldest and most faithful.”

  “You have done well, Colonel,” smiled General Forshire. “Shall we go and investigate?”

  Both officers dismounted and drew their swords. The colonel looped his reins over an old stump, but the general let his horse remain free. With a flick of the general’s wrist, the colonel moved away to the left while the general moved to the right. The officers warily circled the clearing before stealthily moving towards the old cabin. They reunited outside the building’s only door. For several minutes the two men stood silently outside the door, their ears attuned to the forest sounds. With a slight nod from the general, Colonel Hardi’s hand moved slowly towards the door. He silently raised the latch and then forcefully pushed the door open.

  The moment the door swung open, General Forshire dove through the opening to the left. The colonel raced into the room to his right. As the General rolled to his feet, both men pivoted with their swords out before them. The one-room cabin was empty. A heavy layer of dust showed that the cabin had not been occupied for some time. General Forshire nodded approvingly.

  “This is exactly what I was looking for,” smiled General Forshire. “Colonel Magee is driving a wagon up the Blood Highway from Valdo. I want you to intercept him before he reaches our camp. Guide him to this cabin without anyone knowing about it.”

  “Would you like me to have another man sent out to wait with you?” asked the colonel.

  “That will not be necessary,” replied General Forshire. “After you direct Colonel Magee to this cabin, return to the camp and organize an attack force. The force should be several squads in strength, but choose the most loyal of the men.”

  “You are going to stage an attack on this cabin?” inquired the colonel.

  “You are intuitive,” smiled the general. “This cabin and its occupants will be burned to the ground during a fierce struggle. Colonel Magee is hauling the victims here in the wagon. Despair will soon learn about another great coup by the A Corps.”

  “But who will witness it?” asked the colonel. “If our men are the only witnesses, we could have staged this attack anywhere.”

  “You are correct,” grinned the general, “but there is a secret military installation less than a league from here. They will surely respond to the fire.”

  “Less than a league?” frowned the colonel. “Why have my scouts not discovered it?”

  “Because I restricted your patrols to this side of the Blood Highway,” explained the general. “The army camp is on the other side of the road. I do not want them to be aware of us until the fire is noticed.”

  “Who are we killing?” asked the colonel.

  “Rebels,” chuckled the general. “Rebels that no other army unit has been able to find. One of the rebels will be a mage, so make sure to warn your soldiers about the possible danger of magical warfare. When we are done here, the A Corps will be the talk of Despair.”

  The colonel laughed and nodded. “You never cease to amaze me, General. Let me be off to guide Magee to the cabin.”

  The colonel saluted and retreated through the lone doorway. General Forshire walked around the small room a few times and eventually settled in a chair by the table. He stared through the open door at the trees of the forest as he fiddled with several Alcean coins the fairies had brought from Captain Gomery. He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring out the door when the feeling of being watched fell upon him. He swiftly slid the coins into his pouch and eased himself to his feet. He drew his sword and moved alongside the open door.

  “Your battle senses are well honed,” the soft voice said from deeper in the cabin.

  General Forshire whirled towards the sound of the voice, his sword stretching out before him. His brow furrowed in confusion as his eyes fell upon Fakir Aziz.

  “Are you going to run me through?” asked the old man. “That would hardly be welcome.”

  “How long have you been here?” asked Clint. “How did you get in?”

  “Meaningless questions,” shrugged Fakir. “You seek to destroy a mage and have your kill verified by the Federation. Have you given any thought to the fact that the black-cloaks will see through your farce?”

  “How do you mean?” asked Clint. “The entire cabin will have been destroyed before they arrive.�
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  “Even so,” retorted the Mage. “Magical fire has certain properties that ordinary fire does not. The black-cloaks can tell the difference. They will also note not having felt the vibrations of any magical battle spells. This plan risks destroying your façade.”

  Clint sheathed his sword and sighed heavily. “I am thankful that you arrived when you did. I had hoped that such a success as this would move me closer to the secrets of the Federation, but I realize now that I almost endangered my position by dealing with things that I do not understand.”

  “So you will abandon the plan then?” asked the old man.

  “No,” Clint said with determination. “I will still carry out the attack, but without claiming the presence of a mage. Unfortunately, that will cause greater doubt in the minds of the Federation. The presence of a female mage would have made my claim undeniable.”

  “Then it is indeed fortunate that I happened to be in the area,” grinned the old man. “I can call forth the spells necessary to confuse the Federation.”

  “You would do that for me?” frowned Clint.

  “Why are you so surprised?” Fakir replied with a tone of hurt feelings.

  “Garth and Kalina speak of you with reverence,” answered the Ranger. “They have the utmost faith in you, yet I mistrusted you a great deal on our journey through the Forest of Death. I could not blame you for abandoning me to my own fate.”

  “You have much to learn,” smiled Fakir Aziz. “A man should not be despised for being wary, especially a soldier in a strange land. Your distrust was not hurtful to me. You are a fine and caring man, Clint. The troubles you hoist upon your shoulders are the troubles of your fellow man. You do so without regard for your own personal well-being. It is hard to ask any more from a man than that.”

  “Can you help without endangering yourself?” asked Clint.

  “We shall see,” shrugged the Mage. “Arrange your bodies and assemble your men. My time here is short.”

  Chapter 6

  Death of a Mage