Demon Scroll

by Tim Niederriter

  "Melissa Dorian, meet two of my guild members. I expect you recognize one of them?"

  Melissa looked at the robed girl, a blonde woman, probably at-least half Palavian, so a northern transplant or settler maybe. The boy's hair was nearly as long and disorderly as Melissa's, flowing to his neck it curled so much the exact length was difficult to tell. Just like with Melissa. His face was pale and youthful, maybe sixteen or seventeen. She recognized her younger brother.

  "Giles?"

  He nodded but said nothing. Kadatz grinned.

  "You remember my guild now, I'm sure, Melissa Dorian." He motioned to her brother and the robed girl. "These two are my current favorite apprentices, Ferina Corem and, of course, Giles Dorian." His lips tugged back further in a feral expression of mirth. "Imagine my surprise when I heard your request to the governor. I had not known she planned to circumvent the Magister's authority in this city."

  Melissa blinked at him.

  "What do you mean?"

  "My guild and the temple train nearly all mages in the city and my guild handles the greater number. Imagine my surprise that Governor Lokoth thought to build herself a force of warrior mages. I suspect she needs a lesson in who to trust with the secrets of power. Perhaps it’s fitting that you, of all people, be my example to her."

  Orm squared with Melissa's side.

  "He means it. Melissa, what's the plan?"

  She shook her head.

  "You make the plan. I'm not gonna be much help here."

  Kadatz's lip twitched. He raised his hand, fingers forming a claw as he directed his arm like a blade toward Melissa's neck.

  "Because we are civilized in this city, I will only strip your powers, whatever they may be. You will live, but you will never work true magic again in your life."

  "Orm, go inside," said Melissa. "No need for both of us to get hurt."

  He glanced at her. She gave him the sternest look she could, then turned her gaze toward Kadatz.

  "What happened to the old guild master, Lord Jossetz?"

  "Retired. Forcibly," said Kadatz. "You seem more aware now. Do you catch my meaning?"

  "I think so." Melissa turned to Giles, still skulking behind Kadatz to her left. "Brother, will you let him do this?"

  Giles shuddered, fists clenched.

  "You shouldn't go against what the guild decreed back then. Melissa, you should never have come back."

  She grimaced.

  "I see how it is. Coward, are you, brother?"

  Kadatz stepped between Melissa and Giles, vast robe billowing around him.

  "You've said enough."

  He drew his hand back, a fool of a fighter, telegraphing his attack so much. His hand formed a knife-like edge with fingers coming together as he stabbed at her chest. While a blow like that could hurt, it wouldn’t do much damage on its own. A chattering sound rang from his fingertips.

  Melissa staggered backward, narrowly dodging the strike. She darted closer to the inn’s outer wall, eyes fixed on the end of Kadatz’ hand.

  “What is that sound?” she said.

  “You can hear it. Damn.” Kadatz grimaced. “Ferina. Giles. Assist me.”

  “At once, guild master,” said the woman, spreading her hands so they flickered with lights from small fires.

  Giles took a step backward, cowardly as ever. He faded into the growing shadows, then disappeared completely, impossibly.

  Kadatz grunted and took on a defensive stance, too tight and too slow to be much use most of the time but Melissa was still feeling her alcohol and his magic could change everything. Ferina advanced to the guild master’s side. Giles remained completely hidden by his magic.

  The door of the inn flew open. Orm charged out, following by a dozen other caravan guards. Kadatz whirled to face them just in time for Orm’s blow to catch him in the jaw. The mage jerked back. He cried in pain. Ferina turned, drew her fingers to her chest and prepared to stream fire at the Orm and the others. She spoke a word of control. Then Melissa hit her from the side, sending her sprawling to the stones.

  Streaks of fire flickered into the air.

  Kadatz growled low in his throat.

  “How dare you, common mercenaries!”

  “Dare?” Orm shook his head. “Protecting each other is what we do. So take your members and leave.”

  “This isn’t over,” said Kadatz, backing toward Ferina.

  “You’d better hope it is,” said Melissa. “Because next time I won’t be drunk.”

  Giles appeared, shadow cast by the orange of fading sunlight. He helped Ferina to her feet. The three guild mages retreated. Orm turned to Melissa.

  “You’d better move.”

  One of the others nodded.

  “We’ll go with you. Can’t let those asses try anything on your way to the palace.”

  Melissa flushed.

  “Thank you. I’d refuse, but I guess I drank too much.”

  Orm and the others laughed. They escorted her to the palace, though darkening streets. At the gates, Orm clapped her on the shoulder. “Good luck, Melissa.”

  “Stay safe,” she said, then went inside.

  Melissa climbed the stairs to where the governor had arranged her long-term quarters. The dark of nightfall crept through the halls, contested by small lanterns as gentle maids lit them and lifted them to hang on wall mounts. Walking, head down, she passed a cluster of servants talking softly among themselves as they worked.

  “You look a bit shaken,” said the old man, Hilos.

  She glanced at him, not having spotted him when she entered the palace.

  “I’m alright,” she said. “Just drank a little with my friends.”

  Hilos smiled and nodded.

  “You certainly appear that way, but was there something else?”

  She sighed.

  “The magister’s guild came after me. My friends helped stop them.”

  “You don’t sound scared.”

  “I had a feeling I’d have to deal with them. They’re terrible.”

  “Do you have a history with them, Melissa?”

  “I do. They banned me from their guild, and from magic when I was a girl.”

  Hilos nodded.

  “The governor will want to know that. Would you like me to tell her?”

  Melissa shook her head.

  “I’ll tell her myself.”

  “Don’t wait.” Hilos bowed low. “I must inform you we are to meet with the other student-mages tomorrow.”

  “The others—Hilos are you going to train as a mage?”

  “It is my privilege to sit in on your lessons. We will see if I learn something.”

  Melissa laughed.

  “I hope you do. I hope we both do.”

  “Likewise, Melissa.” He motioned her toward her room. “Get some rest.”

  “Thank you, Hilos.”

  “Of course, honored guest.”

  She left him, made her way down the hall. She bolted the door behind her, then pulled the wooden shutters over the windows. The room went completely dark. She undressed, then felt her way to the bed and lay down to sleep.

  Saben

  He made a way toward the library along the rooftops while Jaswei kept watch at the street level. Likely she was distracted by some bright object or other strange sight in the city. Rond was playing for the coins of people passing through the square nearby. He at least was reliably absent. The man seemed nearly useless. Jaswei was competent enough for her flightiness to annoy Saben.

  Neither of them knew...no neither of them understood the vital nature of getting a scroll for his vengeance. His people would not rest easy until the demons that took their lives were finally destroyed. Tancuon was a land of demons and magic, no mistake. Saben would wield the powers of this place for his mission of revenge.

  Peering over the low buildings he scanned up and down the walls of the library’s different wings, extending from the center like spokes on a wheel. His nose filled with a putrid smell rising from the stree
t. Distracted by the vile tang in his nose, he looked for the source below. Sure enough, he spotted a cart of rotten fruit at a stand under the eaves of the building. Brown-spotted apples and sometimes-mushy red berries would do more to drive away customers than attract them.

  A young boy who looked to be at part-Kanori in heritage brought more goods around the corner from a cart in the alley beside the fruit stand. Whoever managed the stand should send the boy away. Wherever he touched the fruit they grew and aged visibly, going from ripe to overripe and from overripe to rotten. The boy carried an imbalance of sprites and banes never seen in the native Tancuonese according to Saben’s reading during the journey west.

  He snorted, trying to clear the putrid smell from his nose. The boy looked up and spotted him. He dropped some of the fruit he carried in surprise and his dark eyes widened.

  Saben crouched and held a finger to his lips. The boy nodded, then started picking up the fallen fruit from the stones. An old man, hair wispy and white, came out from under the fruit stands’ sunshade. He cursed at the boy in Tancuonese.

  “How stupid are you, boy? You just can’t keep a grip on anything you carry.”

  “Forgive me, sir,” said the boy. “I...I am both foolish and clumsy.”

  Saben slipped back from the edge of the rooftop to keep the old man from seeing him. Unlike the boy, he doubted the man would do anything to cover for his presence. Silently, Saben thanked his new and temporary accomplice. He glanced at the library as the old man stopped berating the boy and sighed.

  “Look at what you made me say. Mother have mercy.” The old man’s voice carried to the rooftop. “But I suppose there is no point in more. Get that fruit to the front, such as it is, and I won’t release you from work until nightfall.”

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”

  “Your hands must be filthy, boy. You smudge my produce.”

  “I beg forgiveness.”

  “No more begging. Work!”

  Saben crept to the other side of the roof, just two streets from the towering library. He said a blessing for the worker boy keeping his mouth shut. Suspicious men lurked on rooftops. Saben did not need that kind of attention from the city’s guards or other authorities. The people here likely would not treat him well should he fall into trouble.

  For now, the way looked clear.

  The doors of the library opened. Heavy creaking sounds accompanied the motion. Jaswei and Rond met Saben outside. They made their way into the building.

  Saben stepped into the library, finally tasting the smell of ink and old paper from the stacks. Rows of towering shelves ranked off into the depths of the great room from which the more specialized wings radiated. In Naje he had seen the scriptures in their scroll cases, organized by their purpose and their laws of governance. In Crinri he’d witnessed the opening of the metallic tomes of office with their appropriate majesty and grace.

  Apparently, The Tancuonese did not value their written words so highly as those other cultures, despite seeming to have a great deal more of them. Jaswei’s mouth hung open at the sight of so many books. Rond nodded, a smile playing on his lips.

  “Stay quiet. It’s the rule of this place,” he said.

  Jaswei clamped her mouth shut, looking like she wanted to scream in joy, or just to defy the rule. Saben understood the second impulse well, though he rarely acted as impulsively as Jaswei. She grinned and proceeded toward the stacks.

  A small woman of middle-age with graying black hair and tawny skin common among native Lowenraners and the Kanori across the bay, interposed herself between the three of them and the shelves upon shelves of books, spreading her arms to impede them.

  “Wait a moment, citizens,” she said. “I am the librarian here and I would know your purpose here.”

  Jaswei started, scowled, then backed up a pace from the little woman. Saben was simply glad she didn’t reach for the empty scabbard out of frustration. Rond stepped forward.

  “I am a storyteller and performer. These are my assistants, here to help me compose a song about a mage of old.”

  “Indeed?” The librarian frowned up at Rond’s bulk. “Which mage of old?”

  Rond smiled.

  “Prince Geldingstar, who felled the demon of death.”

  The librarian’s stern frown melted into a smile.

  “Well, of course, my friends. Anyone telling that tale ought to come here first.” She motioned to the stacks on her left. “You’ll find the histories and legends of Prince Geldingstar beside the magic wing’s entrance. Take what you will from this side of the doorway, but I must warn you, the one that guards the hall into the magic wing is not understanding to trespassers.”

  Rond bowed his head.

  “Thank you, my lady. We will heed your warning well.” He turned pointedly toward Jaswei and Saben. “Won’t we?”

  Jaswei nodded.

  Saben shrugged.

  “Of course,” he said in a dry hiss.

  “We’ll take the utmost care,” Rond said.

  “See that you do,” said the librarian. She stepped out of their way. “And if you have questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “We won’t.” Rond waved for Jaswei and Saben to follow him into the stacks.

  Melissa

  Hilos knocked on her door to wake her before sunrise. Melissa met the others in the yard early.

  Melissa spotted Lady Nasibron and her niece, Elaine, standing in the palace’s walled yard. Near them, milled some two-dozen other men and women, in clothes that ranged from those commoners to the fencing gear sometimes worn by nobility to chain and plate hauberks. Melissa guessed they must all be here to train as mages, though given the governor’s discussion with Lady Nasibron in the orchard, only four or five of them would be picked to receive proper training.

  Melissa joined the crowd, feeling under-prepared having left her spear in her chambers. Many of the other potential mages carried weapons of their own, mostly long or short blades. One woman, a pale northerner by the look of her, carried two swords, one longer weapon in a sheath at her right side, and the other in a scabbard held in her off-hand. Some noble had sent their sword servant to train as a mage, it seemed.

  The woman with the two swords spotted Melissa and approached her.

  “Greetings,” she said. “You’re the former caravan guard, aren’t you?”

  Melissa nodded and made it halfway to a shrug.

  “I take your meaning,” she said.

  The woman offered Melissa her free hand to shake.

  “You have my thanks for protecting my master. I’m Suya Nattan, Governor Lokoth’s sword servant.”

  Melissa took Suya’s hand and bowed her head.

  “I would do it again.”

  “I understand,” said Suya. “That’s why you’re here, I suppose.”

  “Have no fear for your position. My ambition is to be a mage, not a champion or bodyguard.”

  Suya smiled.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “But as a bodyguard your heroics in the orchard were admirable. Even so, I fear we are now to compete. Only a handful of these present can be trained. Lady Nasibron is just a single teacher, and the way ahead is arduous.”

  “I know that all too well.” Melissa released Suya’s hand.

  The sword servant grabbed her wrist and held fast, keeping Melissa close.

  “Be more honest. None of us here really know what it takes to train with magic.”

  Melissa frowned at Suya.

  “True. Now let me go.”

  Suya gently released Melissa’s wrist. More people arrived after Melissa. The crowd of aspirants now numbered between thirty and forty, including Hilos, the black-clad old gentle servant. Lady Nasibron walked toward them, her gown swishing over the dust and grass of the yard.

  Elaine hung back, watching the older witch and the aspirants with clear eyes. That girl could probably teach most of those gathered here plenty about mage-craft herself, which was probably why she was here. Her naiv
ete seemed greater than her talent, to Melissa, however.

  “Greetings, aspirants,” said Lady Nasibron. “While I’m glad to see Governor Lokoth recruited so many potentials, I fear I cannot train all of you at once. For now, I’ve asked to take a few of you as students. However, by no means does that mean I must take any of you. If your talents are weak or your minds unable to cope with the training, I’ll gladly dispense with all of you.” She nodded as if to herself. “That said, if I choose to train you, I will require your utmost dedication to the art. All teaching is impossible without students who can reason and learn.”

  She motioned Elaine forward.

  “My niece has been studying under my tutelage for several years now. If you are to be of use to Governor Lokoth’s purposes, you will not have so long.” She folded her hands. “The test ahead is vital. We will probe each of your spirit’s to determine what you bring with you.” She turned to Elaine and added, “Elaine will test some of you to speed this process. Form two lines.”

  The group, now standing at attention remained stock-still for a moment.

  “Don’t keep us waiting,” said Lady Nasibron. “Move yourselves.”

  Melissa joined the line leading to Elaine behind a young Lowenraner woman waring a leather-armored skirt and a silken cuirass. The woman carried a short lance, sometimes called a dart, the kind hurled by formations of soldiers before a charge. While they waited in the middle of the line, the woman looked uneasily at Melissa.

  “I heard you carried a spear, Lady Dorian.”

  “I’m not a lady,” said Melissa. “Though the other part is true. I didn’t realize a weapon would be useful today.”

  “Always better to be on guard,” said the woman.

  “I agree.” Melissa glanced at the other line which moved as slowly as the one where they stood.

  “My name is Niu,” said the woman in front of her. “I joined the city watch a year ago.”

  “City watch, huh? Does the magister’s guild ever run afoul you, then?”

  “Usually they behave where we can see them,” said Niu. “But the library is in a center of contention, recently.”

  “Is that so? Why?”

  Niu raised her free hand and tipped it sideways.