Separating them was not enough to keep these two rivals from confronting each other. Deckard thought, if the and vakari have their way, we will have more conflict soon. Whether or not the vakari or the Kanori attacked it would be blood on the water.
The governor thanked the mages and the mercenary. She told them to take the scrolls to the vault. They left the room, and Deckard approached governor Lokoth personally. She smiled as he approached.
“Lord Hadrian,” she said, “I was wondering when you would make your presence felt.”
“Your feud with the magister's guild is troublesome,” said Deckard.
“You think so?”
“I do.” He nodded to the feasting soldiers and sailors.
“Do you think they want to go to battle without mage support?”
“No one would,” said governor Lokoth.
“I don't know if that's true,” said Deckard. “I've met those who would.”
The governor sighed.
“That's why I'm training my new mage guards and my hand.”
“Do you think they will be ready if ships arrived on the horizon from Kanor tomorrow?” asked Deckard.
“My spies suggest Kanor is not approaching us anytime soon with hostilities. You may be paranoid, Deckard,” she said.
Deckard shrugged, letting the robe move easily around him, it's iron and steel shifted as light as feathers. He moved it easily using his feather sprites. Those sprites were his most easily accessed tools in the battle. He used them every day, often unconsciously.
Deckard turned and stalked toward the doors leading back to the city. The governor rose and followed him a few paces.
“Wait,” she said, “are you going so soon?”
He shrugged.
“I heard at the library, a particular scroll was stolen.”
“What kind of scroll?” asked the governor.
“A demon scroll,” said Deckard. “One of the most powerful of it’s kind. One I've never fought.”
“Many demons are unique,” said governor Lokoth.
Deckard shook his head.
“This one is even more special.”
The governor approached him, where he hesitated beside the table.
At the midpoint of the table, she reached him. She asked in a soft voice, “what kind of demon is it?”
He shook his head.
“I need to find out more before I tell any more. It is not the place for mortals to worry about fight a war against the wrath of demons. Especially not this one.”
“Are there not mortal hunters,” said the governor.
“There are,” said Deckard, “but they are not me.”
“Not me either,” the governor admitted.
“I am not the demon. Nor am I a wizard. I have only a little training.”
“You ought to have completed your training,” said Deckard.
“You mean with Lady Nasibron?”
“Perhaps,” said Deckard.
Governor Lokoth shook her head.
“There are many things I wish I'd done when I lived in the north,” she said. “Completing my training with magic is not one of them. I was always better with swords.”
“Magic and swords are not always counter to each other,” said Deckard.
“Perhaps, but I'd rather take one over the other. If you understand the meaning.”
“I do not,” said Deckard. “I admit.”
He nodded at her. “Governor, if it pleases you. I will leave now to continue my investigation.”
Melissa
Melissa turned to the big man.
“What brought you to that street today?”
Saben, if that was the mercenaries name, nodded. He took a deep breath.
“I didn't know what was going on the library before I got there, but the magister's pissed me off before.”
Melissa frowned.
“I thought you were new in the city?
“Judging by your accent. You're not native either,” said Saben.
They sat in the palace yard, where the other students were practicing, backs to one of the tables. Standing, Melissa flexed her legs.
“I was born here,” she said. “I haven't been around for a while.”
Saben said nothing. Melissa shook her head.
“You don't have to talk,” she said. “However, given that you helped us out, it might be helpful to know a little more about you.”
Elaine approached them, followed by Lady Nasibron.
“Here they come,” said Melissa. “We're in trouble I guess.”
“Why?” Saben asked.
“We’re not supposed to skirmish with the magister's guild.” Melissa wrinkled her nose.
Saben scowled. He must feel malice toward the magister's guild. Even if his grudge against them was just a lie, Melissa doubted his motives would interfere with her training. He said nothing.
“Not too talkative now,” said Melissa. She waved her hand in the air. “You seem to get along better with Elaine.”
Saben remained quiet.
Elaine and Lady Nasibron reached them. The elder witch smiled at Saben.
“You have been useful today, easterner.”
“I suppose so,” said Saben.
Lady Nasibron’s smiled remained.
“What do we owe you?”
Saben shrugged.
“Nothing?” Elaine said.
Saben shrugged again.
“I don’t know your money.”
Elaine nodded.
Lady Nasibron said, “we can pay you a few crowns, or a single mercy gold.”
Saben closed his eyes.
“I'll take the gold,” he said.
“Gold it is,” said Elaine. She produced a single coin from her purse and handed it to Saben.
He pocketed the heavy coin.
Melissa frowned as Saben turned and walked away.
The mercenary moved her the wrong way. He had been useful. Size like his could be valuable in any kind fight, as long as the man knew how to use it. However, given his odd nature, she was glad to see him go. Others could accuse Melissa of being quiet, as the other guards sometimes had on the caravans, but she knew her reasons. Women who serve as caravan guards frequently had other problems to attend too far beyond those of the men.
Melissa avoided most of those at the time. In her new life, she would be asked to form real relationships with people for change. She sighed slightly at the thought. Her service to the governor required more of her than she thought. So much for being a reward, or at least for being free. The position remained a blessing.
Elaine turned to Melissa.
“You and Niu did well back there,” she said. “You really should learn more magic, before you cross paths with the magister’s guild again, though.”
Lady Nasibron nodded. Melissa frowned.
“I’ll try my best,” she said, “but if I can't avoid them. It will happen again.”
“In that case,” said Lady Nasibron, “perhaps you should remain in the palace until further notice.”
“I'm not going to be a prisoner,” said Melissa. “But I can try harder to avoid skirmishes.”
Lady Nasibron smiled.
“Try as hard as you can,” she said.
“And don't go out alone,” said Elaine. She folded her arms. “If the magister's guild gets the drop on you, the governor could lose one of her mage hand.”
“Mage Hand?” asked Melissa.
“Yes,” said the lady witch. “the governor is calling you five training as full wizards her hand.”
“Five people per one hand.” Melissa smiled. “I suppose that makes each of us her finger?”
“That is the idea,” said Lady Nasibron.
“Then what digit does that make you?” said Melissa, glancing at Elaine.
Lady Nasibron scoffed.
“Nothing,” she said, “she remains my student.”
Elaine’s face flushed.
Some might say her embarrassment was cute. Me
lissa just felt annoyed.
Despite their training to work together today, her antipathy for Elaine only seems to grow. Elaine unfolded her arms and turned to walk away. Lady Nasibron shook her head. Elaine froze in her tracks.
Was there magic between those two just now? Melissa wondered.
Lady Nasibron shook her head.
“Not yet, Elaine.”
“What is it?” Elaine asked.
“You have to hear this,” said Lady Nasibron. “It concerns all mages in the city.”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“The scroll stolen from the library is most definitely one that we all must approach with concern. I must fear its true nature.”
Elaine raised an eyebrow. Melissa glanced at the young witch. Elaine seemed usually between embarrassment and haughtiness, but Melissa sensed for the first time a kind of awe in the young witch. Elaine nodded to Lady Nasibron.
“I will listen,” said Elaine. “Thank you.”
The elder witch scoffed again.
“If one of us should encounter the bearer of that scroll,” she said, “We must do what one can to restrain them. However,” she said, “our mission is not to deal with the scroll ourselves. We are training for the season at least, and thus if any of you students should encounter a mage who can wield the power in that scroll, you will be outmatched, as would I.”
“Outmatched?” Said Elaine. “Even you?”
“Even me,” said Kelly, with a sigh. “I may be an excellent teacher if I must say myself, but I'm only a middling combat wizard.”
Melissa was surprised to hear the old witch make such an admission. Most people, even those who had weaknesses, rarely admitted them. Even students were often kept confident among the magisters, which Melissa recalled from the early indoctrination classes she’d been old enough to attend before being exiled.
“What should we do my lady?” she asked.
Lady Nasibron snorted
“Do? Run,” she said, “Run away if you encounter the bearer of that scroll.”
Elaine sighed, then turned and walked away. Lady Nasibron didn’t stop her this time. She faced Melissa.
“Do you understand me, girl?”
“Girl?” Melissa said. “I suppose that describes me, but I’m rarely called that.” She smiled.
“Don't get used to it. If you become a wizard, I'll call you that instead.”
Melissa’s smile broadened at that.
Lady Nasibron motioned Melissa back to training. The elder witch advised the students on how to read the scrolls. Melissa worked hard with the others. She went to bed that night tired but satisfied.
Deckard
Deckard slipped through the streets of Soucot. He crept between shadows darted under the eaves, and later glided over the city. At times, he floated silent on the night wind. His robe moved as easily and quietly as ever. His sprites made certain of that. The robe provided excellent protection in the battle, but it was also smooth and supple garment when lightened to the utmost degree by his magic.
Deckard and his night vision cut into the darkness. He sensed no unusual songs of sprites or banes beyond those of the magister’s guild members, mostly asleep in their homes. Somewhere in the night, a smell rose from the city near the docks. He had a mission to attend to there. Turning on the wind, he glided toward the sea.
Deckard arrived above the docks, casting a shadow against the moon. He descended to land on the street near the largest of the works, one of the major thoroughfares for large seagoing vessels. However common they used to be, the great ships rarely touched upon Soucot’s docks these days. Not since the battle with Kanor had trade been as prosperous.
The docks of Soucot still thrived, in their own way. Fishermen, fresh from the sea, would arrive there every day and sell their wares to local merchants to take to market. Seafood wasn’t as common where Deckard usually traveled in the north.
Deckard was not here to see or smell fish. The stench he had caught on the night wind belonged to something far worse than dead fish moldering in an alleyway somewhere.
The smell belonged to a demon.
Once, long ago, Deckard didn’t trust his nose, though it always served him well when he did. After 300 years of hunting demons, he saw the wisdom in following instinct and sense over the mind and his tactics sometimes. Tactics and personal skills could lead one to demons that hid above the earth. Not all demons simply made themselves known. Even their banes songs were suppressed. Some demons could stay on the surface for years before being captured by Deckard or another hunter. Perhaps some never were. And in distant lands, demons roamed the surface at will. Deckard was only one man, despite his experience and magic.
Hunting demons outside the land mercy was far more dangerous than doing so here. Deckard could count his blessings later. He landed beside the docks and made his way into an alleyway. He followed the smell, the sign, the demon.
He found what he was looking for, just a few blocks east and south of the docks. He made his way into the tangle of a tenement, moving soundlessly to reach the second story and entered the window in the humid night air. Crouching low, he crept into the hall of the building, between places where the poorest of the city slept. He sniffed and knew the demon close at hand. His nose wrinkled in disgust.
He opened the door and found his quarry.
The demon, not much larger than an ordinary dog looked up at him with frightened eyes.
He wasn't a dangerous demon, just a lesser hound, by the look of him. However, his smell made for a somewhat interesting task while the rest the world slept.
Deckard closed the door behind him. He stayed in front of the exit, blocking the hound from bolting.
The creature scrambled to stand. He faced Deckard.
The demon dog was black with red ridges where his banes glowed through his fur. Despite his resemblance to an ordinary dog the demon still had long sharp fangs, quite unlike those of an ordinary dog. He licked his chops with a long, almost frog-like tongue.
The demon looked up at Deckard.
“You, demon hunter?”
“Yes,” said Deckard.
The demon huddled, folded his legs and almost tripping over himself.
“Will you throw me down the well?” he asked.
The demon's weak, child-like voice told Deckard the creature was no threat. Many demons could be distracting or deceptive but they rarely were able to deceive him to the extent the hound had convinced him of his harmless nature.
He shook his head.
“You appear to be doing the worst by just smelling,” he said.
The demon whimpered.
Deckard shrugged.
“That’s not a pit-worth offense. What brought you to the surface if you're afraid of demon hunters?”
The demon shook like a cold puppy.
“I did not want to come to the surface willingly,” said the demon.
“You didn’t want to come to the surface?” Deckard frowned.
“No,” said the demon.
“Then what are you doing here?” Deckard asked.
“I was brought here, but I can't tell you by who. If they found out, they would scatter me to the wind.”
“They,” said Deckard, “that tells me something.”
“No,” whimpered the dog. The demon shuffled his paws forward and then ducked his head to slide under them. He pressed his paws over his eyes.
Deckard shook his head.
“If it was another rogue demon I'll take care of them for you. You’re doing little harm besides stinking up the room.”
The demon shook and shook, then rolled to one side, looking up at Deckard with abject agitation.
“You would help me?”
“If you help me,” said Deckard.
The dog shuffled to his feet again. He sniffed the air, and Deckard smiled at him, trying to ease the dog demon’s suspicions.
“You aren't you an ordinary hound demon,” he said. “What are you?”
“I am a unique demon,” said the dog, “my name is Baor.”
“Baor?” said Deckard.
“Baor,” said the dog demon. “I am not an ambitious demon, just gassy when nervous.”
Deckard nodded.
“I could smell that.”
The dog, Baor lashed his tail back and forth.
“Deckard Hadrian,” said the dog demon, “that is your name. correct?”
“Yes,” said Deckard.
The dog demon whimpered.
Deckard Hadrian,” he said, “I am not more afraid of the demon that brought me here than of you. Though I can’t name them, they, are numerous and powerful.
Deckard nodded.
“But who are they?”
“They were not so specific as to tell their servants of things.” The dog lowered his head and planted years to install. “Forgive me. I know little.”
Deckard nodded.
“I won’t punish you for not knowing. However, you must do something about your smell. I’ll be near here most of the season, at least.”
“I thought you were a traveler,” said the demon.
“I am,” said Deckard, “but this area is of interest at the moment. There are things I will want to know. Until then, Baor, I will probably be checking on you from time to time.”
Baor whimpered once more.
Deckard left the tenement and flew into the night.
Deckard approached the palace, wondering about that mercenary the others encountered, the foreigner named Saben, who helped the three students escape the magister’s ambush earlier in the day.
Despite Saben's apparent lack of empathy or purpose, Deckard suspected there was more about the man than he let on. Usually, when someone wouldn't talk the odds favored an ulterior motive.
He landed on the balcony outside the governor's chambers.
Governor Lokoth was already asleep. Deckard took off again.
He glided over the palace grounds, searching for someone to report his information. He did not have any plans of reporting Baor to an actual demon hunter. Perhaps Lady Nasibron would find someone to keep an eye on the creature. Kellene was reliable.
He descended, landing outside Kellene’s study, the one usually reserved for the visiting wizards of great power. Kellene was a skilled witch and a fine teacher, but as she frequently said to those who she trusted, she lacked in raw magical power.
Demon Scroll Page 11
