Demon Scroll

by Tim Niederriter

  “Of course not,” said Eric. “Too valuable to go breaking them. Everything here is precious, except life.”

  “Is that some kind of motto,” asked Rond.

  “It is what it is,” said the big man. “Do you three want a job, or what?”

  “If one suits,” Saben said.

  The big man nodded. He motioned to a board of tattered papers on one wall.

  “Those are old jobs,” he said. Then he waved to a board on the other side of the room, one with fewer papers on it, each held in place by a gleaming metal nail protruding from the wall rather than be pounded into it. “That wall is for magic work.”

  Saben glanced at Jaswei.

  “Magic work suits us,” said Jaswei.

  “Indeed,” said Saben.

  He wanted the opportunity to try out the power of the new scroll. If he didn't get that chance from work as a mercenary, he would get some coin and make time soon enough.

  “Now,” said Eric, “don't get too hasty. I happen to know that there's a lot of work out there for law-abiding citizens who want to capture someone doing non-guild-sanctioned magic right now. Some damn scroll got stolen from the city library.”

  “I've heard about that,” Saben said.

  Eric laughed.

  “Who hasn't?”

  Jaswei and Rond both looked at Saben. Saben folded his arms.

  “If we’re to do a magic job,” he said, “We should do it as soon as possible. I have to know what the land is like around here.”

  “You’re bold, foreigner.”

  Eric led them to the end of the bar. He then motioned them onward to the wall of magical writs. Binding sprites kept the words on each one from being read at a distance. Those papers were not themselves magical, but the nails most definitely contained bound sprites even Saben could hear softly singing.

  Saben had seen many things like them, in the northern lands of the east. He understood them as tools of magic mercenary work. The only unknown quantities were the challenges of the land itself. The people within it could be unpredictable.

  He and Jaswei picked out a writ from the wall and returned to a table with Rond to read the script for them. Jaswei illuminated the table with a single sprite. The glow allowed Rond to read. Rond dug into the writ, examining every detail. When he was done he summarized what the job them.

  The local proved himself useful, Saben admitted to himself. Not reading Tancuonese would be a major drawback around here.

  Jaswei and Saben listened to Rond.

  “It's a job about retrieving some kind of magical device, something invested with magic I guess. It looks like everyone who has attempted it before has been seriously hurt or killed.”

  He looked up at them.

  “Does that sound good to you?”

  Saben

  The three of them used the last of their gold to buy a wagon and took it along the northern branch of the road leading away from Soucot. Among the orchards, lay a single tomb, the tomb of a fallen hero. Saben could never remember the name of the hero, some knight from ages past. Some heroes apparently could be forgotten, he thought.

  They arrived at the gates of a walled mausoleum standing above ground.

  Saben and Jaswei made their way inside, leaving Rond with the wagon. The two of them would be enough to clear the magic in the area, and Rond would be a liability in a fight with a supernatural creature. A demon, Saben thought, would be the perfect test of my powers.

  He and Jaswei reach the mausoleum beyond the gateway.

  The doors stood open behind them, moving gently in the wind. Iron bars creaked.

  Jaswei looked at the doors of the tomb itself but it was sealed and locked.

  “It looks like we’ll have to break the archway if we want to clear the curse.”

  “Maybe not,” said Saben.

  She arched an eyebrow. Saben nodded.

  “It looks as though this place may not house the relic, though it could be nearby.”

  “Why would you say that?” asked Jaswei.

  “Can you hear them,” said Saben, “the sprite?”

  She inclined her head. She listened for a moment. Saben did the same.

  Sprites seemed loud to him when humans weren’t talking. A tremulous song issued from behind the mausoleum, from a walled garden in the area beyond the gates. He turned Jaswei. She shook her head.

  “I didn't hear anything,” she said.

  “I must've sharpened my ears recently,” said Saben.

  “Maybe,” said Jaswei. She frowned. “We should examine the garden out back before we go inside.”

  He nodded.

  They circled the mausoleum to reach the garden. Roses and thistles clumped together all-around a small pond, one contained like a reflecting pool in a ring of stones. The plants, however, had overgrown their places. The traces of other flowers broke through the gate before them. Fragments of sprites and banes, scattered from the fight that whatever guarded this magical artifact had delivered to the previous interlopers littered the flowers but the song did not come from these ruined remains of magical essence.

  Saben approached the water, pushing his way through the flowers. The song came from the pool. Thorns pricked at his heavy gloves but did not pierce them. Jaswei hung back a short distance.

  The two of them peered into the water from different distances.

  The pool glittered silver at the bottom. The sprite song resonated from the water.

  Saben glanced at her.

  “The song is coming from in there.”

  Jaswei frowned.

  “If you say so,” she said.

  She joined him at the water’s edge.

  “It's in there?”

  “Yeah,” said Saben. “But it doesn't look too deep.”

  “Perhaps one of us should tell Rond,” said Jaswei.

  “Not yet. We need to test it,” said Saben.

  Jaswei nodded.

  “Right.”

  She willed her available sprites into the air, shaping them to form a net. Once she completed the net, she cast her it into the water. They descended into the depths scanning every piece of the paved pool for signs of traps and poisons.

  The banes raced back to Jaswei, leaving no trace of any disruption in the pool.

  Saben folded his arms. He peered into the water.

  “There has to be something,” he said.

  Jaswei gazed at the water.

  “Perhaps touching the surface physically could trigger something?”

  Saben nodded.

  “Perhaps.”

  Jaswei backed away from the water's edge. She glanced at the mausoleum.

  “Could the building be just a distraction?” she asked.

  “Possibly,” said Saben.

  Jaswei frowned.

  “If that's the case,” she said, “then perhaps people would have tried to open it before?”

  Saben frowned.

  “You mean? They were misled?”

  “And we were as well,” said Jaswei.

  Saben nodded, realization forming.

  If they were misled to this pool, perhaps the pool itself was a trap. He turned from the water and found Jaswei a step ahead of him, facing a shade, materialized of pure banes from the from fragments around the pool. Behind them a hiss of steam made him glanced back. He saw another spirit, spectral form composed only of sprites and singing loudly.

  “These two,” said Saben, “they guard the place?”

  “By killing intruders,” said Jaswei way. She reached for her scabbard and drew the sword banes from it.

  Saben glared at the spirit construct before him.

  The specter’s silvery hands clasped together, then spread, turning into wicked daggers before his eyes. Fingertips became as nails.

  Jaswei charged at the bane spirit. Her sword of singing essence formed before her. Saben had no chance to swing his sword, so he cast about to mutter a curse. As the sprite construct closed on him, he released a bellow that repelled the a
ttacker violently, hurling it away.

  The explosion of sound, focused from his voice, smashed the spirit to shards. He turned as Jaswei finished the bane construct with a swipe of her blade. Her blade cut right through it, spreading its internal particles like butter.

  “Well that was easy,” said Jaswei.

  “Don't speak so fast,” said Saben, “as the sprite construct he had blown apart reformed.

  The bane spirit shuffled his body back into one piece and floated toward Jaswei. The two of them fought back to back, defending themselves with the striking spirits of Jaswei’s blade and echoing shouts from Saben.

  Saben and Jaswei faced their enemies in a din of combat.

  The two sprite spirits appeared undeterred by both Saben and Jaswei’s methods of battle. They attacked with vigor, despite being artificially created.

  They’re like the creatures from the other side of the bay, thought Saben.

  He wished his shout was as effective against these as it was against the ones from before. He scattered the sprite spirit with a swing of his arm, but the ghostly claws latched on. Nail-like blood-drinking talons pierced his flesh.

  He shouted straight into the creatures face, blasting it to pieces once more. His arm bled heavily. Jaswei turned, having sliced through the bane spirit once more. Sweat beaded on her brow. She would tire, as would Saben, before long.

  The spirits lacked such a weakness.

  “What we do now?” Jaswei asked.

  “Perhaps we retreat,” said Saben.

  “Seems like the thing to do. We need a plan.”

  They retreated from the pond. Both constructs pursued them, moving with stunning speed. The constructs raced by, cutting off their retreat.

  Jaswei and Saben face them side by side, rather than back to back.

  “What we’re doing doesn't seem to hurt them,” said Jaswei.

  “Agreed,” said Saben, “what would you suggest?”

  Jaswei scowled.

  “We need a way to destroy them for good.”

  “Any ideas?” asked Saben.

  “Just one,” said Jaswei.

  She extended her bare arm to draw in the attack of the bane spirit. Claws raced toward her, just as sharp and lethal as those of the sprite construct that had torn up Saben’s arm.

  She let the talons strike her arm and shoulder. Blood dribbled from the wounds, even as the blades sank in. She did not pull back or cut to the spirit with her blade, but reached out with her other arm and separated banes from one another, along the construct’s shoulder.

  She plucked away, her teeth gritted, until the arm of the bane construct fell apart.

  Saben seized his chance and pulled the separated banes into his blade and then into his body.

  He drank the bane construct as it howled in pain.

  Jaswei sank to the red-dabbled grass, blood running from her wounds.

  Saben rushed to attack the wounded bane construct. He swung his arm and caught the thing about the neck. He pinched his fingers, and dragged banes apart one by one, with intense concentration etched on his features.

  The bane spirit fell apart, as he took the banes from its head.

  The sprite spirit attacked, slicing down to strike at Jaswei. Its blade stabbed into her other arm, drawing blood from her.

  Saben whirled, drawing his blade. He thrust the weapon into the spirit before the baldric hit the ground. His sword sliced through the ghostly construct. The ordinary steel he focused his power through allowed him to draw the sprites out of the spirit and trap them in the blade. The construct fell apart.

  He reached Jaswei’s side, pulling bandages he kept in the fallen baldric. He wrapped them around her arms but she was already lying on her side, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow.

  She was hurt far worse than him by the construct guardians. Once he stabilized her and stopped the bleeding he lifted her in his arms and carried her back toward the wagon.

  He stopped before he could leave the gates. The constructs had been fresh, which meant if they left the place, the guardians would likely reform completely. The walls likely bound the sprite and banes to keep them from escaping. That's what keeps the spirits here, he thought.

  He found the walls were etched with magical sigils. Those sigils would reject sprites and banes from you from affecting them, trapping the two constructs inside the walls as long as the relic remained.

  Mortals could pass, but spirits remained forever. He turned and set Jaswei’s unconscious form on the grass. Turning, he approached the mausoleum.

  Saben stood before the inner doors. Jaswei’s breathing behind him remained shallow, but he still heard it.

  He took his sword in both hands and smashed down as hard as he could with the pommel upon the gate’s inner lock. The lock shattered.

  He pushed open the iron doors of the mausoleum. They were corroded with rust and moved slowly, allowing him access to the interior of the tomb. Dark, stodgy air flowed into his nostrils.

  The stuffy room made a dismal site. Bones and skeletal wrappings littered the floor. A single glowing shape lit the space before him, a glinting silver bell.

  It sat upon a pedestal, in the center of the mausoleum. That was the relic the and Jaswei had been tasked with recovering. They’d make a pretty penny, as long as they could return it to the city.

  He reached for the bell with one hand.

  Elaine

  Elaine watched the bird demon from her window. The palace was growing old quickly for her, but thankfully that demons present was not hers to worry about. Aunt Kellene was taking care of it.

  No doubt, that was Caferis the bound demon from her parents’ estate in the north. That demon had watched over her for her whole life.

  The bird demon Caferis, took a deep breath, issued a squawk from multiple beaks, and then fluttered away. He left lady Nasibron standing below. Elaine hoped the message hadn't been a complaint about her. Her last letter to her parents could not have arrived yet. She’d only sent it yesterday.

  Lady Nasibron returned to the palace. Elaine watched her enter the building. She turned from her window and then walked to the door. She wanted so much to do something besides train recruits as mages, especially these recruits. Melissa seemed to dislike Elaine immensely though Elaine only wanted them to get along, so she could have an actual friend in the palace.

  Outside in the hallway, the gentle servants were mopping up the floor from some spill.

  There, Elaine also spotted one of the other members of the mage hand, the veteran sailor, Kelt Crayta. He was not holding an oar this time. He carried a mop instead. He swung the mop in the air, obviously borrowing the tool from the gentle servants while they worked.

  His rippling shoulders moved with these, shifting perfectly to wield the broom upright or down low. He glanced at her as she walked toward him.

  “See anything interesting?” he asked.

  Elaine shrugged.

  “You need more technique,” she said. “You already have the muscle.”

  Kelt scoffed and then smiled.

  “I think you missed the intent of my question.”

  “Oh,” said Elaine, “you didn't want my criticism? I thought you asked for it.”

  Kelt sighed

  “I was referring to my technique,” he said, “that's for certain.”

  Elaine rolled her eyes.

  “I take your drift now.”

  She walked past him, ignoring his sputtering reply.

  Of all the people she met in the city, the only one who seemed both helpful and reasonable was that mercenary, Saben.

  She doubted she would see the quiet man again. He was likely of some ill repute, given his lack of presence at the palace among the other mages the governor recruited. If he proved more worthy, she might have liked to see him again.

  As she walked into the main entryway of the palace, she saw her aunt standing on the ground floor at the bottom of the three staircases. A woman in black approached, alone and confident fr
om the throne room. Lady Nasibron turned and met Governor Lokoth with a bow.

  Elaine watched them talk for a moment, then decided she didn't care what they had to say to each other. She also did not want to listen in on them. This palace belonged to the governor she was staying here at the honor woman’s pleasure.

  I must insist this building not be my prison. Elaine proceeded down the stairs, past the governor her aunt, and out into the open air. There, she spotted Melissa, Niu, and Tal approaching from the citadel.

  She frowned, not wanting another altercation with Melissa. For some reason, that woman was too unreasonable to see Elaine only wanted to be friends.

  It almost makes sense with her history being so problematic, Elaine thought. Still, it would help to know the specifics of the troubles Melissa had suffered. Living in Soucot did not sit well with either of them.

  Melissa

  Melissa saw Elaine as they approached the gates of the palace. She frowned apprehensively as she considered the aloof and haughty Elaine waiting for them. At least they weren’t being chased by a crowd of magisters this time.

  “Welcome back,” said Elaine.

  “Thanks,” said Niu.

  Melissa wrinkled her nose. Tal glanced at Melissa. He nodded to Elaine.

  “We were out getting food, my lady,” he said.

  “Food?” Elaine asked. “Isn’t there enough in the palace?”

  “We have some here,” said Melissa, “but it's different than in the city.”

  “I'm surprised you wanted to go into the city,” Elaine said, “considering what happened last time we weren’t chaperoned.”

  “I think it worked out all right. I don’t need protection,” said Melissa.

  Elaine shrugged.

  “If you say so,” she said, “but I suspect it was a risk not worth taking.”

  Melissa glared at her.

  “You shouldn't say things like that,” Melissa said, her tone fierce. “You aren’t in charge of any of us. You’re a student too!”

  The outburst startled Elaine. She stepped back. Her face flushed and her eyes narrowed.

  “What do you mean?” she said. “I don't intend to enforce anything on any of you.”

  Melissa shook her head.

  “I suspect your intentions have very little in common with what you do.”