Demonkin

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “I was talking about after the Mage’s heroes are vanquished,” countered D’Lycind. “A victory celebration can be a wonderful thing for all.”

  “You underestimate the power of the Mage’s chosen,” scowled D’Artim. “Even the power of Alutar’s Claws will be severely tested. You would do well to remember that K’san was once thought to be the ultimate weapon.”

  As if hearing his name mentioned, K’san suddenly shouted in anger. The two demons turned towards the demonkin with questioning gazes.

  “Waxhaw again!” wailed the demonkin. “I shall destroy that city.”

  “What has happened?” D’Artim demanded to know. “Speak!”

  “A demonkin was destroyed in Waxhaw,” replied K’san. “Another sword that is more than a sword. I must avenge him.”

  “How is this happening?” asked D’Lycind. “The demonkin were supposed to be indestructible.”

  When D’Artim did not immediately respond, D’Lycind turned to see what he was doing. He found the other demon staring at Lycindor.

  “What is the matter?” asked D’Lycind.

  “The Claws of Alutar do not share the herd mind of K’san,” D’Artim stated. “Look. Lycindor has no idea that a demonkin was just struck down.”

  “Perhaps he just doesn’t care,” suggested D’Lycind. “Perhaps he considers himself far above such a petty creature as K’san. You did say that they were far more powerful.”

  “Perhaps,” D’Artim said with disbelief. The demon strode over to the Claw of Alutar and stood before him. “Where is Wycaramor?”

  The demonkin turned and stared blankly at the demon. “I am not Wycaramor. I am Lycindor.”

  “Where is Wycaramor?” D’Artim repeated. “Tell me.”

  “I do not know Wycaramor,” frowned the demonkin. “Why do you ask me where he is?”

  D’Artim turned away from the Claw of Alutar and stared at K’san. He watched the rage rising in the black priest and shook his head.

  “The Claws are single-minded in purpose,” D’Lycind said softly.

  “They are.” D’Artim nodded. “They will not be distracted from their task. Nothing will save the Mage’s heroes this time.”

  * * * *

  Garth Shado stood in the newly-created chamber in the dwarven mines of Tarashin. The chamber was octagonal with one of the sides reserved for the only normal entrance. The wall directly across from the entrance was bare, but each of the other walls had a wooden Door firmly attached to it. Signs above the Doors indicated the destinations reached through the magical portals. As the Knight of Alcea stood admiring the work of the dwarves, he sensed someone coming up behind him. He turned casually, a knife sliding into his hand.

  “It is only me, Garth,” Kalina called to him.

  Garth nodded silently and slid the knife back into its sheath.

  “This chamber is hard to find,” Kalina said as she entered the room. “The corridors are like a maze.”

  “That is how it needs to be,” Garth answered. “This chamber will be as protected as any entrance to the mine. The presence of the Doors leave the dwarves open to attack. King Drakarik has taken every precaution to prevent that. Did Prince Rigal and his men get off safely?”

  “They left early this morning,” replied Kalina. “They took a Door with them as you requested.”

  “Excellent.” Garth nodded. “Now we need to figure out how to get the rest of the Doors distributed.”

  “That might have to wait,” Kalina said with hesitancy in her voice.

  Garth’s brow furrowed with concern. He knew the tone of his wife’s voice indicated that something had gone wrong. He waited quietly to hear the news.

  “Shawn Cowen is dead,” Kalina stated. “Droplet was delivering a message to Queen Romani when it happened, but he came right here when he learned of it.”

  “How did it happen?” asked Garth.

  “One of the Vinaforan patriots was trapped while trying to recruit an officer. Shawn and another man went to rescue him, but K’san and two black-cloaks showed up in the meantime. K’san killed Shawn with a fireball, but Shawn had the ability to gain his revenge before he died.”

  A pang of sadness swept of over Garth, but he forced it away. The Knight of Alcea had lost many good men over the years. It always hurt to be faced with the loss of a good man, but he knew better than to dwell upon it. He mentally turned his energies into containing the loss as best he could.

  “Have the patriots been compromised?” he asked.

  “They think not,” answered Kalina. “All of the enemy at the location were killed. The hostage was rescued, and Shawn’s body was recovered. Colonel Pfaff requested advice on the proper way to bury an Alcea Ranger.”

  “The proper way is to bury him in Tagaret,” Garth said with a bit of an edge in his voice.

  “I don’t even know if Shawn had a family.” Kalina frowned as she realized how little she knew about the man.

  “He had a wife,” Garth answered. “She died during the Contest of Power in Tagaret. She was caught in a battle between two petty factions. He never remarried. He will only be mourned by the Alcea Rangers.”

  “While that is hardly true,” Kalina said softly, “such a mourning would be the envy of most men.” When Garth didn’t respond, Kalina tried to drag his mind away from the loss of the Ranger. “What do we do now with the Vinaforan patriots? Can they stand on their own?”

  Garth sighed deeply and shook his head. “I promised Queen Romani that we would guide Colonel Pfaff. While the colonel has blossomed in many ways, he can still use some guidance.”

  “You are not thinking of going there yourself?” Kalina asked with a worried look on her face. “You will spread yourself too thin.”

  Garth sighed again and shook his head. “I am tempted,” he admitted, “but you are right. The rescue of the elven children is imminent.”

  “Everyone else is engaged,” Kalina pointed out. “We have no people to spare.”

  “There you are wrong,” smiled Garth as he pointed at the Doors. “We are far from alone now. Send Droplet back with two messages. Tell Shawn’s unicorn to come to Tarashin. Tell Colonel Pfaff to have a wagon waiting for me south of the city. I want the wagon to be filled with voluminous light articles so I can smuggle something underneath them.”

  “What do you have planned?” asked Kalina.

  “I am going to Tagaret to get a replacement for Shawn,” answered Garth. “Whoever is chosen, I will go with him to Waxhaw and open up Sidney’s warehouse in the city. Our new Ranger will be the merchant’s man in Waxhaw.”

  “An Alcean will not have the knowledge to play the part,” frowned Kalina. “You forget how long Shawn had in this country to prepare for the role.”

  “I have not forgotten,” replied Garth. “Whoever is chosen, he will have to submit to your magical ways. I want you to fill his memory with what is needed for him to succeed.”

  “You have grown awfully free with my magic,” frowned Kalina. “I do not like probing into the minds of others.”

  “Find me a way to accomplish our goals differently,” retorted Garth, “and I will gladly follow it.”

  Kalina remained silent for several minutes. Garth did not interrupt her mental musings. Eventually, Kalina nodded in agreement.

  “Whoever is chosen must agree to what will be done to him,” declared Kalina. “I want him to know beforehand, or I will not do it.”

  “Agreed,” promised Garth.

  Kalina nodded and left the chamber to send Droplet back to Waxhaw. Garth unlocked the Door to Tagaret and knocked on it. The Door opened promptly and a Red Sword stared into the dwarven chamber. Garth stepped through the Door and the Red Sword closed it. Another Red Sword stepped forward and saluted Garth.

  “Welcome home, Colonel,” smiled the Red Sword.

  Garth smiled in return. “Take me to King Arik.”

  The Red Sword nodded and led Garth through the corridors of the Royal Palace in Tagaret. Garth noticed that some
corridors had been recently sealed off, creating a maze of hallways designed to confuse and slow any enemy approach. After a long walk, they arrived in front of the king’s office. Both of the guards recognized Alexander Tork, and one of them knocked on the door. The guard stuck his head into the office and announced Alex’s name. The door was immediately opened wide, and Alex was ushered into the office.

  “I am glad to see you,” smiled King Arik, “but your visit is much sooner than I expected. Is there trouble?”

  “You know me too well.” Alex nodded. “One of my men was killed. I need a skilled Ranger to replace him.”

  “Mitar Vidson is not in the city at present, but General Gregor can supply a man,” replied the king. “Who was it?”

  “Shawn Cowen,” answered the Knight of Alcea. “He was the naturalist I took with me on the Remora. K’san struck him down in Waxhaw.”

  “I do not envy you working in the midst of demonkin,” frowned the king. “I am glad to be rid of them in Alcea.”

  “You should not drop your guard,” cautioned Alex. “Do not forget the warning that the Mage sent in our dreams.”

  “So you believe in the dreams now?” the king asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “I am not sure that I ever disbelieved in them,” frowned Alex, “but I do not like being dictated to by my dreams.”

  “You never liked being manipulated in any fashion,” smiled King Arik. “Tell General Gregor that I have authorized a man for you.”

  Alexander nodded thankfully and retreated from the office. The Red Sword who had escorted him stood waiting, but Alex ignored him. When the Knight of Alcea turned and headed for General Gregor’s office, the Red Sword trailed behind. The door to the general’s office was open and Alex walked directly into the room. The Red Sword remained in the hallway with the guards stationed outside the general’s door. General Gregor looked up at the intrusion and a broad grin spread across his face. He rose from his chair and walked around the desk to greet the Knight of Alcea.

  “I heard that you were still alive,” the general said warmly. “Of course that would never come as a surprise to an old veteran like myself. You are, after all, invincible.”

  Alex embraced the general and then stepped back. He looked into the general’s eyes with sadness. “No one is invincible, General. Shawn Cowen is dead. I have come to get a replacement Ranger.”

  “I am sorry,” the general said as he moved behind his desk. “Do not take my words as flippant. I am just pleased to see you.”

  “I know,” Alex said with understanding. “Who have you got available?”

  “The Rangers are very busy these days,” the general replied as he pulled a listing from his desk drawer. “These are the men currently available in Tagaret. If you have need of special talents, let me know and I will try to find someone to fill your position.”

  Alex looked at a list of thirty names. His brow creased with confusion. “This is a rather small list for a thousand Rangers. Where are the rest?”

  “I think it is better if you do not know,” answered the general. “If there is no one on the list that is satisfactory…”

  “That is not a problem,” Alex interrupted as he tapped his finger on the name of a Ranger. “I have already found someone quite acceptable, but I am curious about the others. Why would you keep such information from me?”

  “The king’s orders,” answered the general. “No one is to be aware of what the Rangers are doing unless he authorizes it.” General Gregor glanced at the list and saw the name that Alex was tapping with his finger. He nodded with approval. “I will send for him.”

  The general called one of his guards into the office and ordered him to find the specified Ranger. The guard exited the room and General Gregor waved Alex into a chair.

  “I want to bring Shawn’s body back here for burial,” Alex said as he was waiting for the Ranger to arrive. “I think he would want to be buried in Alcea.”

  “Shawn had no family,” replied the general. “While you are free to do with his body as you wish, bringing him here will accomplish nothing. The Rangers will be informed of his death, and they will mourn him in their own way, but there are not many of them here to perform a ceremony. What about his friends over there? Will you bring them here, too?”

  Garth frowned as he digested the general’s words. He nodded slowly as he realized that in his sadness, he had forgotten about the men who were closest to Shawn. While he was lost in thought, a Ranger marched into the office and saluted. Garth turned and stared into a familiar face. He stood and faced the Ranger and grinned broadly.

  “Stan Fargo reporting as requested,” the Ranger said formally. “Greetings, Colonel,” he added with a grin. “Have a tough nut for me to crack?”

  “I do Stan,” replied the Knight of Alcea. “I want to take you into a battle every bit as bad as the Castle of Man. Are you interested?”

  Stan Fargo’s mind immediately pictured their harrowing escape from the Castle of Man when the forces of Sarac besieged it. It was a battle that raged for days with the Rangers just barely escaping. Of the four Rangers stationed there, one had died, and one had been badly wounded, but their efforts had managed to stem the assault of Sarac and bought valuable time for Tagaret to prepare its defenses.

  “I live to serve the King of Alcea,” Stan Fargo responded, “and it is always a pleasure to serve under your command.”

  “This might be a little different,” cautioned Alex. “You will be working with indigenous patriots as an advisor. Do not be fooled by the title. You will be replacing Shawn Cowen. He just died in the same position.”

  “He was a good man,” Stan said sadly. “He will be missed.”

  “There is also one other thing that you will have to buy into. The Ranger who replaces Shawn will have to have his mind altered by Jenneva.”

  “Altered?” frowned the Ranger.

  “You will need memories of Zara to perform as an advisor,” explained Alex, “and there is no time for you to learn them. Jenneva can implant those memories in your mind if you will allow her to, but she insists that you be made aware of it and accept it before joining up with us. There is no shame in saying no to this, Stan. I certainly would not want memories poured into my mind, even by my wife.”

  The Ranger frowned in thought for several minutes before answering. “I would trust Jenneva with my life. As long as she is not taking any memories away from me, I have no objections.”

  Chapter 29

  Colonels

  The wagon sat on the side of the Calusa Road. Two men sat at a campfire near the wagon. To the casual observer, it was merely a one-wagon caravan with a load of grapes, but it was positioned exactly where Garth had requested it. Garth Shado and Stan Fargo rode slowly along the road. Garth led the Ranger off the road towards the campfire, and the two Alceans dismounted while the two Vinaforans looked curiously at the new arrivals.

  “Welcome travelers,” greeted one of the Vinaforans. “Care for some tea?”

  Garth nodded, but his eyes scanned the forest nearby. While the wagon was positioned where he had requested it, he did not recognize either of the two men guarding it.

  “Mighty fine horses you have there,” commented the Vinaforan. “Are they Occans?”

  “No,” answered Garth as he kept some distance between the men and himself, “although I have been told they look like Occans. Have you been on the road for long?”

  “Just long enough to pick up this load of grapes,” the Vinaforan replied with a toothy smile. “We have to haul them into Waxhaw, but one of the horses isn’t feeling all that well. Thought we’d stop for a spell and give the beasts a rest.”

  Garth glanced at the campfire and noticed that the men had been there most of the day. There was a hefty bed of coals in the fire ring, and the load of firewood beside the ring was barely an armful. Garth decided to try for some recognition.

  “I have hauled grapes many times for Sidney Mercado,” Garth smiled, “but I have never understoo
d the process that makes the grapes turn into wine. What do you do with the grapes? Are they put into some type of crusher?”

  One of the Vinaforan’s eyes widened as the words were spoken, and the other local man’s eyes darted up and down the road to see if anyone else was nearby.

  “Did you say Sidney Mercado?” asked one of the men.

  “I am Garth Shado,” replied the Knight of Alcea. “I am a special agent for Sidney Mercado. I am wanting to pick up another wagon for his warehouse in Waxhaw. Would this one happen to be for sale?”

  The two Vinaforans looked at each other and nodded.

  “Well met, Garth Shado,” the toothy man said as he rose to his feet. “Truth be told, we have been waiting for you, but no one said that there would be two of you. We weren’t sure.”

  “Nor was I,” Garth smiled. “I expected someone else to meet me here.”

  “Crusher was delayed,” replied the man. “Let me show you how we fixed up the wagon.”

  Stan Fargo was still wary of the men. While the local guided Garth towards the wagon, Stan moved back until he had a tree directly behind him. His eyes darted between the man still at the campfire and the one leading Garth to the wagon.

  “I know it looks like the wagon is full of grapes,” the toothy man said, “but it’s a trick. See these notches on the side? The whole middle section here can be lifted off. There is a big hollowed out area under it. It should carry most anything you could bring on a horse with you. Is that sufficient for your needs?”

  “More than adequate,” answered Garth. “You can unhitch the horses and ride them back to town.”

  “We have our own horses in the woods a ways,” smiled the toothy man. “And these horses aren’t ill. That was just a story. They will haul the wagon just fine, and they are well rested. We’ve been waiting since sunrise for you.”

  “Give my thanks to Crusher,” replied Garth. “Tell him I will contact him soon.”

  “We will pass the message along,” the toothy man replied as he signaled for his partner to gather their belongings.