Demonkin

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “No,” replied the general as he handed a pack to the colonel. “A Corps is not to be seen near Despair. In that pack are three-hundred V Corps patches. The men chosen will be wearing them. When you near Despair, you will get off the road before coming into view of the gates and travel through the Bloodwood to where we camped in the early days. Establish a base camp there. I will bring fresh orders after you arrive.”

  “I will see to it,” promised the colonel. “Who commands V Corps?”

  “General Garibaldi of Vinafor. He has raided the prisons as we did, but his men are the ones we would not accept. Keep that in mind when you come across people.”

  “Slovenly and inefficient,” grinned the colonel. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes,” answered General Forshire. “I have a job for you before you leave the area. I want a detail to go to the bridge over the Despair River, but you are not to be present. Dress one of your men as a colonel and make sure that the A Corps patch is removed from all uniforms. Can one of your men handle that?”

  “Absolutely,” declared the colonel. “What do we do at the river?”

  “The guards there should keep a log of everyone coming or going to Elfwoods. Last month there was a large military unit sent into Elfwoods along with two black-cloaks and a Priest of Balmak. I want to know who authorized the group, or if that is not available, who led the group. I would like it done as covertly as possible.”

  “I take it that you do not want to be associated with this investigation?”

  “You are correct,” replied General Forshire. “Nor do I want your face associated with the group asking questions. If things get nasty, the man chosen to play the colonel might need to be sent far away, so choose carefully. The rest of the men should only be seen from a distance. A show of force, if you will, in case the guards at the bridge are reluctant to share the information.”

  “I understand,” stated the colonel. “I know which man to use, and he will accompany Colonel Magee just in case things do turn nasty.”

  “Excellent,” smiled general Forshire. “Camp in the old spot tonight. I will visit you after dark to get the results.”

  * * * *

  The small column of Federation soldiers approached the bridge across the Despair River. Upon approaching the guard hut, the officer of the column deployed his men. The soldiers spread out in a semi-circle surrounding the hut and cutting off any traffic that might try to access the bridge. The company of guards manning the bridge immediately became alarmed at the offensive posture of the opposing troops. A captain stepped out of the hut and shouted orders to his men. The guards anxiously moved to the bridge entrance and blocked it. A colonel from the column rode forward and halted his horse at the hut. He dismounted and turned to face the captain. The captain saluted the colonel, but his hand quickly returned to his side to be near the hilt of his sword.

  “Has there been any traffic over this bridge today?” asked the Colonel.

  “Nothing today, Colonel. Is there some type of problem that I am not aware of?”

  “Let me see your logs,” demanded the colonel.

  The captain swallowed hard, but he nodded and led the way into the hut. He handed a thick book to the colonel and then backed slowly away from him. The colonel flipped through the pages for the last three months and frowned heavily.

  “Your logs are not accurate,” scowled the colonel.

  “The only recent traveler was the elven king,” the captain said nervously. “He was alone.”

  “I happen to know that a large force entered the Elfwoods recently. There is no record of it in your logs. Are you aware of the punishment for this offense?”

  The captain bit his lower lip and shook his head. He was not aware of the punishment, and he certainly did not want to be made aware of it.

  “I remember the group,” the captain offered. “They refused to sign the log. There were over a hundred of them. They claimed to be on the emperor’s business and had no need to sign the log. I did not have the manpower to force them.”

  “Who authorized the group?” asked the colonel.

  “They said the emperor authorized it,” answered the captain.

  “And who led the group?”

  “They were city guards,” answered the captain. “The officer was Captain Kent. I really could not force him to sign the log, Colonel. You have to believe that I tried to get them to sign it.”

  “I would like to believe you, Captain, but it is a serious offense. The logs are kept for a reason.”

  “Please, Colonel. I have no marks against my record. I will make sure that it never happens again.”

  The colonel turned and stared out the door of the hut. “I think I believe that you will be more diligent in the future,” the colonel said softly, “but your request presents a problem for me. The only way that I can ignore your transgression is if I was never here to have discovered the crime. I know that my men can easily forget such a small matter. Can yours?”

  “I guarantee that you were never here, Colonel,” swore the captain. “And I will make sure that every group is properly signed in before crossing that bridge. You have my vow on that.”

  The colonel strode out of the hut and mounted his horse. He rode away slowly and smiled as he heard the captain calling to his men and explaining that the group had been searching for an escaped convict.

  Chapter 19

  Vengeance

  Kalmar carried two large packs as he moved cautiously through the slums of Valdo. He turned the corner and halted. He gazed at the mage encampment in the middle of the street with curiosity. Dozens of blankets were spread out across the street and people were on them. Eulena and Zynor were kneeling next to one of the patients, and Kalmar headed towards them.

  “You are back,” Eulena smiled warmly. “We could use your help.”

  “Did you find the ingredients you needed?” asked Zynor.

  “I did,” answered Kalmar. “The shopkeeper even let me use the back of his shop to make the potions and ointments. It was far preferable to preparing them here in the street.”

  “Unpack them and show me what you have,” Eulena said.

  “They are all labeled,” stated Kalmar as he glanced around. “I would not leave such a thing to memory. What are the others doing?”

  Zynor glanced at the Tyronian mage and shook his head. “Theos is killing vermin to keep the area clean. I think he enjoys destructive work.”

  “There will be no need for it when Crystil is finished,” Eulena said with a hint of distaste for the Tyronian’s methods.

  Kalmar turned and saw the mage from Smirka piling stones atop one another on the other side of the intersection. “What is she doing?”

  “Creating pillars,” Zynor replied with respect. “They are not as large as the ones in Smirka, nor are they as refined, but she is only attempting to keep out vermin not humans.”

  “What of Fakir Aziz and Valera?” asked Kalmar.

  “I sent Valera to find the owner of that building across the street,” replied Eulena. “The citizens said that it was owned by a tailor, and he boarded it up to keep the homeless out of it. It would make a fine infirmary.”

  Kalmar knelt and began unpacking his packs, but he kept looking at the abandoned building as if it was magically calling to him. “And Fakir Aziz?”

  “No one has seen him today,” frowned the elven mage. “I do wonder what he is up to.”

  Kalmar did not respond. He knelt staring at the boarded up building and seemed to be distant.

  “It would make a fine potion shop,” Zynor said softly.

  Kalmar frowned and immediately dragged his eyes away from the building. He finished unpacking the potions and ointments and stored one empty pack inside the other, but his eyes were drawn back to the building.

  “It is who you are,” Zynor said softly. “Why do you fight it?”

  “It is no longer who I am,” snapped the Koroccan mage as he tore his eyes away from the building. “That Kalma
r is dead.”

  Eulena looked questioningly at Zynor as Kalmar rose and stormed off. “What was that about?”

  “It is a long story,” sighed Zynor. “Kalmar used to be the most prosperous mage in Korocca. People traveled hundreds of leagues to buy his potions and ointments, but he forgot his true purpose in life. He misused his gift to enrich himself. It is sad. He is truly gifted in that area.”

  “What happened to change him?”

  “He lost his gift and everything else. That was when he realized that he had been walking along the wrong path. The problem is, he thinks the shop was the error of his ways, but it was truly his greed.”

  “Does he really blame the shop?” asked the elf. “That is not logical.”

  “Perhaps my words could have been better. I do not think he blames the shop so much as he fears it. He fears reverting to his old self, but I know that he would not. I wish he knew it as well.”

  “How do you know?” asked Eulena.

  “I have come to know Kalmar rather well. He is one of the finest men I have ever met. It is easy to be swayed by greed or pride, especially if one is talented.”

  “You sound as if you have experience with that,” Eulena said as she administered one of Kalmar’s potions to a patient.

  “A long time ago,” nodded the Zaroccan mage. “I, too, was young at the time, but my failing was pride, not gold. I yearned to be famous, and I succeeded, but it was not what I truly wanted. When I finally realized that, it was impossible to get rid of the fame. Even though I hid in the remote forests, people tracked me down. It took a long time for them to forget me.”

  “And are you now glad that they did forget you?”

  “I was happy,” frowned Zynor, “or at least I thought I was. Until Fakir Aziz came into my life. He took me away from my self-imposed isolation. Now I realize how much I have forgotten and how much I have missed.”

  “What have you missed?”

  “Working with people like you,” smiled Zynor. “What good is knowledge if you never use it? I had completely forgotten my healing skills, and now, here I am healing desperate people with you. It is a good feeling to be useful to others.”

  “You certainly seem to have remembered quite a bit,” smiled the elf. Eulena tended to another patient before speaking again. “I seem to get the idea that you would like to see Kalmar open up his shop again. Why?”

  “To conquer his fears,” answered Zynor. “In a sense, that is what I am doing on this trip with Fakir Aziz. I used to think that I could sustain myself with the friendship of animals. I spent so many years hiding from people that their presence scared me. It was an irrational fear, and I now know that. I like the feeling that knowledge brings me, and I would like Kalmar to experience it for himself.”

  “But he already has a clean workshop to produce his potions,” Eulena replied as she stared at Kalmar who was standing across the street watching Crystil work.

  “It is not the same,” stated Zynor. “He must have wealthy people entering his shop with pouches of gold. Only then can he realize that greed can no longer hold him.”

  “Or greed will rear its ugly head once more,” cautioned Eulena.

  “No,” Zynor stated adamantly. “Kalmar has learned his lesson. He just doesn’t realize it. He fears a relapse that will never occur.”

  “You sound so sure of him.”

  “I am sure of him.”

  “Tend to this rat bite for me, Zynor,” Eulena said as she stood and stretched. “I need to take a break.”

  The elf walked away from the patients and stared at Kalmar, Zynor’s words rolling through her mind. At that moment, Valera appeared in the intersection. As the Vinaforan mage approached Eulena, so did Kalmar.

  “I found the tailor,” Valera reported. “He still owns the building, and he would be happy to let us use it, as long as we pay him rent.”

  “Rent?” frowned Eulena. “None of us has any gold.”

  “Theos might,” Kalmar interjected.

  “As if that helps,” retorted Valera. “He has no interest in what we are doing.”

  “That is harsh,” frowned Kalmar. “He cares about these people as much as we do, but he is confused about what to do for them.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the elf. “What is there to do but care for them?”

  “Get vengeance for them,” answered Kalmar. “Theos sees the Federation as the cause of their problems. He would rather be using his offense spells against the soldiers and rulers of this land than destroying vermin.”

  “That will get us nothing but trouble,” Eulena replied. “Perhaps we can get Theos to donate his gold. I will ask him.”

  “If you are set on such a foolhardy plea,” chuckled Valera, “you might mention that he will be able to sleep indoors. That might get some gold out of him.”

  “The building is a bad idea,” Kalmar stated before the elf could walk away. “Do not pursue it.”

  “The building is a great idea,” retorted Eulena. “Getting these people off the street is worthy of whatever gold Theos has.”

  “His gold could be better used for more ingredients,” countered Kalmar, “if he will give it up. I spent everything that Valera had given to me. Without more gold, we will have no more potions and ointments. They are truly more valuable than a building.”

  “What these people really need is food,” interjected Valera. “Most of their ills are caused by starvation.”

  “That is not possible,” frowned Kalmar. “No matter how much gold Theos has, it would not buy enough food to feed all these people even for one meal. We should concentrate our efforts on what we can actually do for them.”

  Eulena looked at the abandoned building once more and then settled her gaze on Kalmar. “Would you feed these people if it was within your power?”

  “You know that I would,” Kalmar answered quickly. “What kind of question is that?”

  “A very serious one,” replied the elf. “I want you to look deep within yourself before you answer again. Would you feed these people if it was within your power?”

  Kalmar frowned as he tried to understand what the elf was asking of him. Eulena’s eyes bored into his, and he turned away from her as he pondered the intent of her question. When his eyes landed on the vacant building, he understood her meaning. A cold shiver raced down his spine. The Koroccan mage stood for several minutes staring at the building. Eventually, he sighed and nodded his head decisively. He turned back to face the two women.

  “I need you to take me to the tailor,” Kalmar said to Valera, “but first we need to talk to Theos.”

  Kalmar strode across the street towards the Tyronian mage. Valera stared at Kalmar with confusion, but Eulena smiled broadly and urged her to go with him. Valera raced after the Koroccan mage and reached him just as he halted in front of Theos.

  “Do you have gold, Theos?” asked Kalmar.

  “What if I do?” questioned Theos. “I am not inclined to give it away to people who will merely squander it in a day.”

  “I meant to lend to me,” Kalmar replied.

  “So that you can give it away?” scowled Theos. “I think not. I saw how you gave away your gold, but it didn’t do anything to end the misery of this place.”

  “No, it didn’t,” agreed Kalmar. “It only made me feel good inside for a few moments. I need your gold to buy more ingredients for potions and ointments.”

  “Isn’t that how you squandered Valera’s gold? Those potions will soon be gone as well, and the misery will continue unabated.”

  “We both want to end the misery, Theos,” said Kalmar. “And I can help do it in such a way as to make the wealthy of this city pay for it, but I need your gold to get started.”

  “Make the wealthy pay for it?” Theos frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “We are going to rent that building across the street,” explained Kalmar. “In addition to making it into an infirmary, I plan to open up a potion shop. The potions that I
sell will be extremely expensive, but the wealthy will come to buy them anyway. We will use their gold to buy food for these people. That is along the lines of what you would like to do, isn’t it? Help these people and make the elite pay dearly for it. It is a form of vengeance.”

  Theos glanced at the building across the street and then focused on the Koroccan mage. “It is not as satisfying as blasting each and every one of those elite, but it certainly is an improvement over what we are doing. Can you really extract that much gold out of them?”

  “I think I can.” Kalmar nodded. “We will need to get the word out that a new and talented healer is in town, but they will come in droves when they discover me.”

  “Why a building in the slums then?” questioned Theos. “You should have a respectable shop in the market district where you can justify your high prices.”

  “No,” grinned Kalmar. “That is part of the vengeance. I want those wealthy people to have to travel through the slums. I want them to see how their fellow citizens live. I want the visions of the homeless and dying on their minds each night as they try to go to sleep.”

  “Yes!” Theos said with excitement as he removed a pouch from his belt and handed it to Kalmar. “You must make a policy that prohibits them from sending servants to get their cure.”

  “Each customer must be inspected to make sure the cure is appropriate,” chuckled Kalmar. “And we do not offer services in any other part of the city.”

  Theos unexpectedly frowned as he stared at the building. “If you use my gold to rent that building, how will you afford the ingredients?”

  “I will pay no rent up front,” answered Kalmar. “Your gold is going for the ingredients. I will talk the tailor into accepting the rent from our proceeds. I learned how to leverage such buildings in Herinak.” Kalmar turned to the Vinaforan mage with a smile on his lips. “Take me to this tailor, Valera.”

  * * * *

  The hidden valley was a mixture of forest and open fields. Morro climbed a tall tree within the woods and settled on a sturdy branch. He peered through the branches at the wide expanse of open field as he held his crudely-made map on his lap. A lone door stood like a monument at the nearest edge of the field. The door was not connected to any building. It stood alone, anchored to two long posts set into the ground. About a hundred paces further away from the forest, and slightly off to one side, was a fire ring and a squad of soldiers. Morro stuck his finger into his pocket and woke up the fairy. Sparky stuck out his head and looked around without speaking. Morro pointed to the distant door.