Jaswei frowned.
“You still want revenge.”
“As much as you want your clothes,” said Saben, gesturing to the cabinet containing part of Jaswei’s wardrobe.
She frowned at him. Her eyes gleamed, her cheeks bright with color.
“I'll help you understand as much as I can,” she said, “Though I'm no master wizard.”
“Neither am I, but I’ll do the same,” said Rond.
Rond and Jaswei both looked at Saben.
He set the scroll case on the trunk at the foot of Jaswei’s bed.
“In that case,” he said, “We should begin with a book of demons,” he said, “One could help us understand the creature within the scroll. However, I don’t think we should return to the library in the city for that.”
“Yeah,” said Jaswei. “You're right.”
At the window there came a loud clatter of sound.
Saben glanced out the pane and saw people in the street. The clear day allowed him a view of the faces in a crowd of people who he'd seen in the street around the inn, local folk.
“Something is amiss,” he said.
Rond folded his hands.
“Hopefully not to do with us,” he said.
Jaswei lurched to sit up in, then tried to stand. Saben let her try, not wanting to give her any more attention than necessary. She put her feet to the floor, testing them. Another loud commotion reached the room, this time from above.
“Someone's on the roof,” said Rond.
“Who can suddenly appear on a roof?” asked Jaswei.
Saben scowled as he remembered the flying man landing in the street in front of him and the three women a few days back.
“I would expect an immortal man,” he said.
“An immortal?” said Jaswei. “You mean that man we saw the other day?”
“It seems likely,” said Saben.
Rond shook, literally quaking in his boots.
“Deckard, Hadrian? I heard he was in the city,” Rond said.
Saben and Jaswei both looked at Rond.
“Who is Deckard Hadrian?” asked Saben.
“He's a demon Hunter,” said Rond, “the greatest of them all and he is immortal.”
“Immortal?” said Jaswei, “that can't be the right translation can it?”
“It’s literal,” said Rond.
Saben nodded.
“I heard those women I helped the other day talking about him. He appears to be a servant of the one who rules Tancuon.”
“The ruler of Tancuon?” Jaswei asked. “I thought the land was divided.”
“It is,” said Rond, “but Mother Mercy unites everyone on the continent.”
“We should hurry,” said Saben.
He and Rond each took one of Jaswei’s arms and helped her limp to the door. Sounds on the stairs outside the hall approached them. Someone climbed the steps in a rush. Whoever charged up the stairs might be taller than Saben judging by the sound and more quickly followed after that. Hadrian brought reinforcements.
A team of guards, Saben thought, how can we escape so many?
“They must be looking for the scroll,” said Rond.
Saben tucked the scroll under one arm. He threw the door open and stormed across the hall for his sword and gear.
“Help Jaswei get moving,” he shouted to Rond.
Men appeared at the end of the hallway as he emerged from his room. He gripped his sword in both hands, the baldric bound on his back, empty. The bag of new coins clanked his belt.
At the head of the soldiers, a thickly built man stood, not Deckard Hadrian. The man was some kind of mage. He wore the mantle of a guild mage of the magister's guild, complete with an emblem of the scroll and trident.
The magister clapped his hands together. Saben felt the whole building creak beneath them.
Someone shouted from below.
“Don't destroy my inn, damn it!”
The guards behind the mage exchanged nervous looks.
“Sir,” their leader said.
The mage stepped toward Saben. His fingertips flickered with electricity.
“What we have here is a bunch of thieves.”
Jaswei and Rond emerged from the room into the hall behind Saben. He faced the mage down the glinting blade of his sword. The guards behind the mage shifted uneasily. Their fear seemed palpable enough to cut.
“Fall back,” said the guard leader. “We’ll do no good here. Surround the building.”
Jaswei reached for the sheath of her sword, preparing to draw sprites from it, despite her wounds.
The blade hissed but did not reform. When she was healing, Jaswei found magic difficult.
“Go the other way,” said Saben.
He growled. His low voice sent a rumble like thunder down the hall. The guards hesitated a second longer, then retreated toward the stairs.
The lightning still flickering on the mage’s fingertips formed a cage of electrical flares. He shot a bolt of energy down the hallway.
Saben channeled the lighting bolt into his sword, pulling the shock into the sprites reinforcing the blade. Harmless light played on the long blade.
Jaswei and Rond made for the opposite end of the building, the other window on the second floor. They might be able to jump out to the street if they hurried, but would have difficulty getting much further through the crowd and the guards.
Saben glowered at the mage before him. He raised his sword but the roof was too low to swinging easily inside. He backed away, lowering the blade. The mage grinned.
He started forward, pursuing Saben and the others. The guards downstairs spread out, surrounding the building. Saben grimaced. The situation worsened, even apart from the man on the roof they had yet seen.
As if in answer to his thoughts, a shadow passed across the window before them as they approached. The windowpane exploded inward. Deckard Hadrian landed in a crouch at the end of the hall. His iron robe flowed around him as he rose to his full height.
The rush of wind from outside scattered shards of broken glass upon the floor. The guild mage laughed.
“Now you're finished,” he said.
Saben gritted his teeth.
“Not yet. But you’re out of luck,” he said. He inhaled fast and then shouted.
The mage worked a counter with his hands, using his sprites to disarm the force of the spell. The shock wave from Saben’s throat did not rely on sprites alone, driven by pure rage. He channeled his anger at all demons into every decibel sound.
The sonic wave struck him and the mage collapsed to his knees, clutching his ears as the shock wave roared around him.
Saben glared at the mage then stepped forward toward the stairs. Jaswei turned from the window.
Deckard Hadrian jumped into the air, arrowing toward Rond and Jaswei as they retreated toward Saben.
Jaswei raised her sheath to block a perceived blow. No strike fell. Deckard landed between Saben and Jaswei and Rond.
The immortal raised a dark eyebrow.
“Mercenary, are you?”
Saben growled again, preparing to shout. Jaswei and Rond were on the other side of Hadrian. If he attacked Hadrian, he would hit them both. If they could escape after that, he might have tried it, but they would be no condition to flee after surviving the blast of his voice.
He turned and faced Deckard Hadrian. Deckard took a fighting stance, right hand by his jaw.”
“Are you going to try and punch me?” asked Saben, “No blade?”
“I don't need one,” said Deckard.
His other hand hung loose at his side, nowhere near forming a fist.
“You know your arm. I know my sword,” said Saben.
“Don’t think I'm worried about some boy hurting me,” said Deckard.
“You think I'm worried about some old man hurting me?” Saben released a laugh. The sound sent the whole building shaking. Jaswei covered her ears, and Rond did the same. Deckard leapt backward, landing just outside the dangerous ra
nge of the chuckle Saben had used.
Not far from Saben, the effects of the sound banes lost influence and potency.
Deckard smiled. Saben glared at him.
“A fight is what you want,” said Deckard.
“Not with you,” said Saben.
Not with you, not at all.
Deckard shook his head.
“You should give up the scroll,” he said. “I can work something out with the governor’s justice to help you.”
“I doubt you’ll want to do much,” said Saben. “After I chop off your arm.”
“Would you try to maim me?” Deckard said. “Mercenary?”
“I'm not being paid to hurt people right now,” said Saben. “Just stand aside.”
Deckard squared his stance once more. Rond and Jaswei backed toward the window behind them and the immortal. That hand still hung loose at Deckard’s side. What is he doing?
Saben charged at Deckard. He drove his sword in front of him, making Deckard sidestep. Saben hurtled past, then felt pressure around his legs. Ties of light encircled his ankles. He fell to the floor. The boards rattled under his weight. He rolled onto his back, narrowly avoiding a downward strike from Deckard's fist. The board where his head had been cracked apart and fell into the room below. The rafters clattered with the impact of the broken wood.
Saben stared at the man.
Saben snapped the bonds of sprite strings from his legs using the edge of his blade.
He moved to stand up, but Deckard's fingers wove more sprite strings about him from every angle. Jaswei struck in an instant. Her shoulder rammed into Deckard, making him stumble backward. She kept pushing him. He moved slowly, appearing fatigued. Her presence disrupted his sprites. She grabbed for his throat.
Though she was an excellent swordswoman, she lacked the strength to throttle a man with one hand while he fought back.
Deckard shook her off. His face became a glowering visage, seeming older and more feral than before. He did not strike at Jaswei but retreated along the passage a few paces. His strings retreated with him, pulling back into his fingers.
“So you aren’t just a feather mage,” said Saben. “You can do more than fly.”
Deckard hissed. His features seemed contorted and unnaturally elongated. Though it could've been just a trick of the light, Saben thought he saw something off about the man in his build, a ripple of grayish veins climbed Deckard’s face.
“Could he be using a demon form?” asked Saben.
Rond shook his head.
“He doesn’t use one of those,”
“How do you know that?” Jaswei hissed.
“I read ballads about him,” said Ron.
“A minstrel?” said Deckard. “Your singing days may be behind you.”
Deckard rushed at Saben, darting to avoid Jaswei. She hurled her shoulder into his iron robe, then recoiled, bouncing off like a spear striking metal. She hit the wall and sank to her knees.
Rond ran toward the window. Saben hesitated, wanting to help Jaswei. Deckard struck with both fists at once. The force of the blow from the airborne immortal carried Saben backward as his feet left the floor. He flew out the window, taking Rond with him into the street.
Deckard did not follow them. But settled onto the edge of the window. His control over his flight was near-perfect.
Saben and Rond dropped slowly toward the street. Saben landed among a squad of guards outside the inn, throwing dust from the ground into the air. Rond settled gently beside him. Hadrian must have spared a sprite to slow his fall and save him.
No longer hindered by the weakness of the building, shouted out loud. His bellow flattened the guards with pure sonic rage. He picked up a stunned Rond on his shoulders. Saben ran toward the docks, the heavy man on his back.
He grimaced as he thought of leaving Jaswei behind. For now, he saw no way to rescue her. Deckard did not give chase.
Saben didn’t recover senses from his yell fast enough speak. They made it several blocks away, running at top speed. Despite himself, Saben disliked the cowardice of fleeing.
Survival was part of life. Until he could have his revenge, he had to keep running. The thought of leaving Jaswei behind formed a pit in his stomach. He disliked the idea of abandoning anyone. His family would reproach him from their graves if they knew.
Saben limped toward a hiding place by the water, still carrying the minstrel on his back. Rond had pointed out the hovel to them earlier, but Jaswei preferred not to stay there. Saben had agreed with her the time. Things had just changed.
Melissa
Melissa and Elaine sneaked into Lady Nasibron’s study. The room was empty of servants and the elder witch was absent. The two of them crept through the dim light, from the steely windows. Motes of dust danced in the air. Books lined every shelf. The three desks were all covered in papers and scrolls. Melissa knew the lady was out training other students, so she wasn't likely to return soon.
Elaine found a text suited for teaching bowing quickly. They left the room as quietly as they’d entered.
Day turned to night. As they practiced, Melissa got closer to her sprites and banes. She dug into the oddities of the book. As she read, she found she could hear her sprite song more clearly. The banes were subtler to her ears but still became audible as she read the notes on what to listen for in each type of song.
She made her way to the back of the book throughout the night, reading by candlelight.
In the morning, she was exhausted. She had difficulty deciphering all the text, but the book would be missed. Elaine returned the text to the study early the next day. Teamwork can be lovely.
In practice that day, Melissa found she still heard her sprites and Banes more cleanly than before. She began to draw them out little by little to the surface of her skin. She was able to see them at a similar pace and even made one of them dance on her fingertips.
There were only three, two sprites and one bane. She moved them around but never seemed able to make them do anything else. Other students seemed to be getting a hold of things faster. Now that she could hear them and understood how to show them respect, sprites and banes became tools for Melissa, not obstacles. Rust tools though. They did not yet obey, unshakable as metal.
Lady Nasibon approached her halfway through the day.
“You appear to be having difficulties.”
Melissa nodded.
“I can't seem to make them obey me.”
“They're not going to obey you,” said Lady Nasibron, “they are each part of you.”
“Are you certain?” Melissa said.
Lady Nasibron raised her eyebrows.
“What do you mean? I have studied sprites and banes my entire life. They react to what is inside us in our minds. Their essence might as well be our spirits. We must be careful so as not to influence them unduly.”
Melissa focused on her sprites and banes, sweating.
The day grew hot and many of the other students, especially those in the mage guard rather than hand, retired to the shade. They were all allowed to take breaks but Melissa still needed to make progress to satisfy herself. She needed to see her sprites and banes do something useful, anything to demonstrate her worth.
The number of other students training gradually diminished. Niu and Tal retreated to the shade to rest. Eventually, even the stubborn Kelt Crayta retired to the shade as well.
Only Melissa and one other student remained on the field. Suya Nattan, the governor’s sword servant, stood focusing her sprites and banes into her blade, the sword she carried for herself. The governor's blade remained strapped to her belt in its sheath.
Suya was a lithe and flexible individual, but her sprites seemed less willing to react than most of the other students. Like me, Melissa thought. Prior training seemed to increase the difficulty in learning magic rather than diminish it. Melissa and the others all carried tension in their training. The students watching from the shade, watched them, in almost-reverent silence.
Let them stare, Melissa said to herself. She had to continue pushing or she would never accomplish what she meant to do. She should have learned these basics years ago. When the magisters drove her out of the city she had been forced to leave magic behind. No more, she told herself. No more delays.
Melissa sent a sprite darting from her fingertips, tipped by her iron bane. One sprite sang along the air, forming half of the spear, but only force, shaping the air bites movements rather than its actual presence. The iron bane hurtled forward at the end of the ethereal weapon and then struck the earth. Melissa’s eyes widened.
The bane broke from the spearhead and dove into the soil at high speed, leaving a scar across the yard, burning with heat. The bane tore a black line of dirt through the grass and earth.
Suya spun and glanced at Melissa, shock on her face.
“How did you do that?”
Melissa wiped sweat from her brow.
“I don't know,” she said. “I got very frustrated. I don't know.”
Suya shook her head.
“You'd better find out,” she said. “You need to do that again.”
Melissa reeled, staggering under her fatigue and disorientation. She sank onto the grass in a sitting position. The sprite and bane she had released returned to her. She became dizzy when they launched and their return steadied her. Separating sprites and banes for yourself was the dangerous prospect for one's consciousness. The damage done to the yard looked considerable for a single bane. Melissa thought, I need more of these or I’m not going to be a much of a wizard am I?
Melissa and the others continued to train all day. The broke just before dinner time as the sun began to set.
She met with Elaine outside the feasting hall. Within the room, the long tables were against the walls and most of the chairs were put away. The more ordinary set up for the room, day to day provided seats for close-knit groups when the governor was absent.
The student mages ate and drank at four clusters of small tables near the center of the room. At one of the small tables sat the hand of the governor. The five of them assembled as a group for the first time since the governor chose them.
Suya sat across the table from Melissa. Niu was on Melissa's right. Hilos settled in on her left. Kelt Crayta sagged in a chair next to Suya on the other side of the table. The five of them occupied a higher status than the other soldiers and mages but everyone had worked hard today. The five of them would be the most senior members of the new order of the governor’s mage guard.
Demon Scroll Page 15
