Storm Pale

by D. N. Erikson

  I backed away from the longhouse door, patting my thigh so that Argos would know to follow. He didn’t have to be told twice. We had both seen enough of Vedrfolnir and his talons to know that getting caught beneath them was an unpleasant experience.

  As we edged along the side of the longhouse, someone emerged from the opposite exit and darted into the narrow, muddy street. I could only see the golden hair, but I knew who it belonged to.

  “Isabella.”

  Before Argos could protest, I raced after her, straight toward a ruined part of the town.

  12

  I shivered, but not from the cold. The sounds of battle drifted into the background, replaced by desolation and emptiness. The sense of familiarity was eerie, now—once again searching for Isabella amongst smoldering thatch and frozen slush formed of blood, marrow and ash.

  Argos kept up, despite his fear. I could literally smell it in the wind.

  “You’re not going to get in my way, are you?” I said in a low whisper as I vaulted a caved-in market stall. He bounded around, eager to stay by my side.

  “Just don’t leave me here.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to come.”

  He didn’t answer, chagrined into silence. Isabella emerged from behind a toppled weapons cart, her blonde hair flowing about her shoulders. The passage of time hadn’t ruined her beauty at all. Perhaps it was because she had dropped the flowing tunics of her Coven brethren for a more form-fitting dress of black silk. Quite the little world traveler.

  The material shimmered in the fiery light as she stepped into the center of the ruined market. A chunk of spoiled meat squished beneath her long fur boots.

  “Kalos Aeon,” she said in that beautiful voice that could still make my knees go soft.

  “Isabella.”

  We stood on opposite ends of the ruined open-air market staring at one another. I hadn’t seen her since that day in what would come to be known as 476 A.D., when Marrack had thrown me into the ocean. For the past five hundred years, I had been forced to wonder one thing, over and over.

  “Was it all a lie?”

  Her brow knitted together. Even stained by soot and blood, she was beautiful.

  Focus, Kal. Remember the plan.

  “Was what a lie?”

  “Our time together,” I said, sounding like a love-struck teenager. I stepped forward. It was then that I felt the change in her aura. Something had gone dark about it—something that reminded me vaguely of my own.

  “Kalos,” she said, in an almost wistful voice. Then she smiled, although it was somewhat hollow. “You brought the dog.”

  “Don’t let her fool you,” Argos said with a growl, somewhere unseen. “Remember the stories.”

  He had kept well-apprised of the tales, rumors and stories attributed to Isabella and Marrack’s swath of destruction. News so horrible that it was difficult to repeat, let alone believe. But I had witnessed the dark state of the world, and it would be foolish to dismiss what I knew to be true because of old feelings.

  I swallowed hard, standing my ground as she strode across the slushy market. Each step was measured and smooth, deliberately trying to provoke a reaction. Hundreds of years of memories—of the good times—welled to the surface, clouding my mind.

  “I know you have missed me, Kalos,” she said, her voice like a dreamy whisper. Only fifteen meters away. “I have missed you too.”

  My heart fluttered. In the distance, I heard the anguished cry of Vedrfolnir. Victory or sorrow—who knew with that beast. The hawk was half-insane, driven crazy by the demise of his beloved tree.

  And still, Isabella strode closer.

  “Why’d you do it?” I said, raising my sword. She stopped, a pouty expression spreading across perfect features.

  “What do you mean?”

  “All this suffering, all this pain.” I would never claim to be a hero, or a beacon of light. Nor would the Thrace Coven. But destroying the world was another matter entirely, far beyond what even our consciences could bear. “This isn’t what you want.”

  “And what do I want, Kalos?” She flashed a seductive smile, her velvet voice melting in my ears. “Tell me, my hero.”

  There was no sarcasm. That’s what bothered me.

  “The spear.”

  “The spear,” she repeated in that grit-tinged voice.

  I brandished the iron blade, pointing the tip at her face from across the small distance still separating us.

  “I will strike you down.”

  “But you promised you would never kill me, Kalos Aeon. And your promises can never be broken.”

  A tornado materialized between us from nowhere, sweeping toward me. Hard chunks of frozen mud whipped against my face as I dove behind a ruined stall. The sudden wind died, dropping a heap of slush into a sloppy pile where I had just stood.

  Pushing myself up with the sword’s hilt, I saw Isabella darting toward me. Another spell was primed at her fingertips. I could already feel its stormy aura. Chunks of ice and snow began to whirl around her hands, caught in the forming zephyr.

  I ducked behind the wood as a thunderous gust smacked against the broken stall. The material splintered and sagged, leaving me exposed once more. She marched forward, boots churning through the icy mud.

  I scrambled backward, finding temporary cover behind a jewelry peddler’s flimsy kiosk.

  “Maybe Argos will kill you,” I called out. “There’s no rule against that.”

  “The dog does not possess the stomach for such matters.”

  “What’s the endgame?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “When the world has burned, and you possess the spear, what else will there be?”

  “Perhaps we will amuse ourselves with you.”

  “Hard to do when I’m dead,” I said.

  “And yet, you are a problem now.”

  “Marrack told me some bullshit about eternal pain, and then eternal servitude, and then maybe some more eternal suffering,” I said, recalling Marrack’s final words to me. “I don’t think he’ll be pleased if you kill me now. Not a long enough eternity for his liking.”

  “Perhaps not,” Isabella replied. The footsteps stopped.

  I breathed a small sigh of relief at my stay of execution. It was short-lived, however, as a lightning bolt roared down from the sky, striking the ground only inches from my head. Apparently there hadn’t been enough training to dial in that spell’s accuracy.

  Lucky me.

  I crawled away from the scorched earth, coming out in the open. My entire soul tingled and buzzed, trying to resist the urge to blow her away. It would be costly, but I could do it.

  Rising to my feet, I pointed the sword at her. “Stop.”

  “See,” Isabella said, a knowing smirk contorting her lips into a truly horrid expression. “You are unable to break your promise. Your threats are meaningless.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I said, raising my hands in defeat. “Just answer one thing for me.”

  I dropped the sword into the ruined mud and fell to my knees to indicate I wasn’t bluffing.

  “I will grant you one answer, Kalos Aeon.” Her words smoldered with the fiery passion that I had grown to love, and would now envelop and destroy me. “If you promise.”

  “I’ve already promised not to kill you.”

  “Then what’s one more promise?”

  “I promise to go with you and surrender without incident,” I said, swallowing hard. A satisfied look of relief washed across her face. “What did Marrack promise you in return for the glory of all this?”

  I unfurled my arms in faux-reverence toward the burning town.

  Pain tugged at the corners of her eyes. “It is like you and I. We are bound together.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “As you are drawn to
me, I am drawn to him.”

  I ground my teeth together, rage beginning to spread across my entire being like wildfire. “The situations are nothing alike.”

  “As some of my essence was once transferred to you, so was part of his essence transferred to me. And thus we are bound forever. All of us, in a way. Although you do not lust for him in the same way I do.”

  I saw a brief shard of hatred flash through her eyes. Hatred of Marrack. Of what they did together. Demonic rage overwhelmed logic and promises, and I roared, rising to my feet before I could think.

  “Statueus holdus,” I screamed, feeling parts of my soul tear apart within my breast as I rushed forward. Isabella’s eyes were wide with fear, her leg frozen in mid-step by the magic.

  Before I ripped her to pieces, I skidded to a halt, logic briefly returning.

  Her lips, the last to be paralyzed by the spell, whispered almost incoherently, “You promised.”

  Hatred burning deep within my chest, I paused for a moment, considering the consequences of my actions.

  Then I said with a mirthless smile, “I guess I lied.”

  13

  I stared into the edge of the pit Delphine had opened in the center of the ruined longhouse. Bloody streaks and entrails coated the thatch walls, from where Vedrfolnir and Marrack had fought.

  “There are portals that connect the worlds,” Delphine said, nodding at the hole in the ground. “Even after Yggdrasil burned in the Ragnarök.”

  “Talk to the historian over there,” I said, walking away from the rim, toward the warmth of the fireplace. “You guys could discuss this stuff all day.”

  “I’ve opened a pathway to two of the nine worlds,” Delphine said. “Agonia and the Plains of Eternal Woe.”

  A shrill cry cut through the space.

  “What was that about?” Delphine said.

  “He wanted Marrack dead,” I said, nodding at Vedrfolnir. The hawk’s crumpled form lay in the corner, next to the fire. His chest heaved in and out weakly, indicating that he was not long for this world. “He’ll have to make do with this punishment.”

  I shared a look with Delphine, who was cloaked in her witch’s robes.

  “Your aura is different, Kalos Aeon, than the last time we met. Be careful you do not head down the wrong path.”

  “Sometimes compromise is a necessary evil,” I said, glancing back into the hole where I had just dropped Isabella. The portal, as Delphine so quaintly called it, had swallowed her without ceremony. “Have you visited the Plains of Eternal Woe?”

  “I have heard only stories,” Delphine said, going to stir the pot on the smoking stove. “You are sure this is what you want? It is not too late—”

  “Yes.” I looked over at the table, where Marrack’s lean, muscular form lay bleeding out. “If killing him is impossible.”

  “It is difficult to kill a demon, even in a wounded state,” Delphine said. “You often lose too much of yourself in the process.”

  She gave a curt nod at the dying hawk, who served as confirmation of this truth.

  “Send him to wherever’s worse than the Plains.”

  “That will be expensive,” she said. “Agonia is a difficult world to find, and one must accompany the subject personally.”

  “I don’t trust them together in the Plains,” I said, my heart still burning at the mere thought of Isabella. “You accept payment in essence?”

  “You know I do, half-demon,” Delphine said, adjusting her robes as she worked at the mixture. She watched me as I strode across the room. I could see it from the corner of my eye, the uncertain worry about what I might do next. “What is it you plan—”

  A snap came from the corner as I broke Vedrfolnir’s neck. A mercy killing. The great beast was in pain. Prolonging the suffering would do nothing. Argos let out a shrill whine by the fire, then was silent.

  “Take the hawk,” I said. “I trust you have an alchemist capable of transmuting his essence?”

  “It will do,” Delphine said, averting her gaze. “And what awaits you next?”

  When I walked back across the room, Marrack’s hand gripped my wrist weakly as I passed the table. I tried to shake free, but his nails dug into my skin. “You—you will…pay in eternity for this.”

  “Eternal servitude,” I said. He wouldn’t let go, his eyes burning with hatred. I finally resorted to plunging my free hand into one of the many gouges raking his body. “Tell me how it feels, okay?”

  He howled in response, his grip slackening. Before he passed out from the pain, a look of great humiliation spread deep within his eyes. Yes, being bested by a half-demon would do that to someone as esteemed as himself.

  I went to the fire and nudged Argos with my foot. He rose without a sound. I grabbed the iron sword leaning against the hearth, and then headed toward the door. The blade that I hadn’t needed dragged along the ground with a lonely scraping sound.

  “You haven’t answered me,” Delphine said, still stirring the unknown contents of the pot.

  I headed into the cold without responding, Argos trailing behind through the ruins of the town.

  14

  “Mr. Kalos Aeon,” the judge told me in his lecturing tone, “the court is deeply disturbed by your recent actions.”

  “Are they, now?” I glanced around the tavern where everyone had gathered. Well, the rest of them had gathered. I’d been dragged in against my will. Apparently my actions over the past few months had been “reckless” and had “risked exposure of the supernatural to the greater world.”

  The charges were quite serious. Had they not gotten me while I was sleeping, like the spineless bastards they were, I’d have skipped town instead of facing up to them. But here I was, in a tavern that smelled of pickled meat and skunked ale, bound to the ground by magical gauntlets. Argos stood beside me, shaking a little bit, but trying to maintain a stoic expression.

  “You will address this court with respect,” the Fae judge told me. “As official representation of the Sol Council, we will mete out your punishment. Consider that before uttering your next words.”

  “Let the dog go. You think he actually did anything?”

  “No, I do not believe your border collie was responsible for the total annihilation of the Thrace Coven,” the judge said, pushing his strands of gray hair back away from his eyes. “But he is here to encourage your cooperation.”

  “Blackmail. I thought you light essence creatures were the good guys.”

  “Despite ridding the world of Marrack the Demon King, your standing as a member of the mortal world is tenuous at best, Mr. Aeon. Sarcasm will not help your case.”

  I quieted the demonic rage brewing inside my chest and said in a strained voice, “Is that so?”

  “However, seeing as how the Thrace Coven was employed by a feudal warlord exacting massive tariffs on his workers, we are willing to view these incidents as a misunderstanding.” The judge pushed his troublesome hair up away from his nose. “But the killing of mortals will not be tolerated, Mr. Aeon. Especially not when you place their severed head upon a blade and parade them about the village.”

  “So you’re more upset about the warlord?” Politics. I never understood them.

  “Drawing attention is foolhardy, Mr. Aeon. As a demon, surely you understand.”

  “Fine. I’ll be good. Release me.”

  “I do not think you are taking this seriously.”

  “But I’m reformed of my wicked ways,” I said.

  “If you will not take these charges seriously—”

  “It’s very serious,” I said, my voice rising. “You’ll kill me if I don’t fall in line. This is me falling in line.”

  The judge shuffled the parchment at his fingertips and cleared his throat. Unable to think of a rebuttal, he drained his mug of ale and slammed it against the creaky table.

 
“There are terms, Mr. Aeon.”

  “I’m game to accept if it’ll get me out of here.”

  “You will be the only demon allowed to walk around in the sun. All others have been banished or dispatched. Consider it a thank you for your services to both the mortal and supernatural worlds.”

  “I’m touched,” I said, glancing about the courtroom. The collected creatures were unamused by insolence. Clearly my amnesty was not a popular decision. The judge nodded for one of them to free me. The woman chanted an unbinding spell, and the cuffs opened.

  “Good. Now I can kill you all.” The air went out of the room, and everyone sat bolt upright. Even the judge looked wan. “Kidding. Different kind of demon, remember? I’m a hero.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, Mr. Aeon.”

  “Neither would I. Argos?” The dog padded behind me, eager to race out the door. I propped open the heavy wood, and he darted into the warm afternoon light.

  “Where do you plan on going, Mr. Aeon? The Sol Council can use services such as yours. And you would be compensated handsomely.”

  “I don’t know. But I’ll survive.” Gunnar always had work. Maybe I could start there. I headed into the blazing sun and slammed the door behind me. I trotted away from the countryside tavern, Argos bounding ahead me.

  “I don’t think that’s the best way to handle a courtroom, Kal,” he said, panting heavily.

  “We’re alive, right?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re gonna wander for a little while, buddy.”

  “As long as there are books where we’re going. I’ve heard of a new one. The Book of Fixed Stars. By a Persian. It maps the cosmos, Kal. The stars. We have to get a copy. And I have to learn Arabic.”

  “Sure, books,” I said, in a faraway voice, staring at the hills, Isabella Kronos briefly entering my mind. “Plenty of books and stars.”