Demonified (Hawkblood Chronicles Book 1)

by Stephen Schultz

  “Mr. ‘I can’t be serious for more than thirty seconds’? No. Why should that be a problem?” Batine asked, shaking his head with a smile.

  “Well, if I have to crack a joke or something, I’ll try to sneak off and find you.”

  “Don’t do me any favors. Hey, what are you doing up so early? And why couldn’t you ever get up this early when you were still under my command?”

  “I’m not a morning person. Except when it comes to doing something fun,” Esselles answered with a sly grin.

  “So what’s so fun about an early morning horseback ride?”

  “I’m heading up to Bracken Woods to track animals. It’s something Talbot and I did growing up and we continued once we got here.”

  “Hey, how’s his mother doing? Talbot’s birthday’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

  “Day after tomorrow actually. I’m planning on stopping there today.”

  “Send her my regards. Her son was one damn fine guardsman.”

  “That he was,” Esselles agreed. “Well, I’ve got to get going. You’re getting paid to talk. I’m doing this on my own free time. I think I’m getting ripped off.”

  “Yeah, well they ain’t paying me enough to talk with the likes of you.”

  “Ouch. If I don’t see you before then, I’ll see you at the conclave.”

  “Have fun in the woods.”

  On the outskirts of town, Esselles turned down a dirt lane. He rode up towards the farmhouse at the end of the lane where he dismounted and tethered his horse to a carved hitching post. Walking towards the house, he noticed that it seemed very quiet for this time of day. Not even the hens in the small hen house were making any noise. As he neared the house, a dog scrambled from beneath the hen house, barking as it came. Esselles braced himself for its charge, but the dog still knocked him to the ground.

  “Stop it,” Esselles protested as five pounds of tongue smacked him in the cheek. “Get off of me, you clumsy oaf.” After a short wrestling bout, Esselles continued on towards the rotted steps of the farmhouse. The dog had not totally given up, poking at Esselles with his nose and pulling on his leggings. With dog in tow, he finally reached the house.

  The house was small and somewhat run down. The front door had long since worn through its leather hinges and was now leaning against the front porch, having been replaced by a heavy curtain. The porch creaked as he went up the steps and brushed aside the curtain. The sun carved his shadow into the rug and Esselles had to wait for his eyes to adjust before he could see much in the room.

  The room was essentially bare with just a few pieces of furniture, some throw rugs, and a sword hanging over an earthen fireplace. Two doors exited from the back of the room and an occasional sound of metal clanking on metal came from the right hand one.

  “You in the kitchen?” he called out.

  “Selly? Is that you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it’s me.”

  “What brings you here?” Charene asked as she dried her arthritis-ravaged hands.

  “I brought you some turnips from back home.”

  “Arator? How’d you get those?”

  “Pol was in town two days ago. He brought them.”

  “Oh, I’d love to see him. Where is he?” she asked.

  “Heading south towards the Firth. He was only here for the day. But he’ll be able to visit when he returns next month.”

  “Here,” she said, taking the turnips from him. “We’ll just put them on the table.” She placed them on a well-worn wooden table that still bore the names of two young boys, carved deep into the surface. A smile crossed Esselles’ face as he thought back to that day in Arator.

  Charene noticed him smiling. “Bedell wasn’t too pleased when you two did that,” she said, smiling back.

  “No. Talbot and I didn’t sit down for a week. Of course, we didn’t think about that when we were doing it. Not that he and I thought much when we were kids…” He let his sentence drop off. A tear had formed in Charene’s eye. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kredo,” he said as he reached out and took her into his arms. “I miss him, too.”

  “I know you do,” she said. “I know how close you two were. I’m glad you got to talk to him before he died.”

  Barely, Esselles thought. He remembered the day all too well. The guard had been fighting off an attack by a band of marauding ogres that had come out of the north. They were defending the outlying farms when Talbot and Esselles had been overrun. Esselles had taken a blow to the head from an ogre’s club and had been knocked aside. Talbot had managed to kill two before the third one caved in his chest. A soldier in the Imperial Legions arrived to kill the last ogre, but it was too late for Talbot. Esselles, barely conscious from the blow to the head, had managed to crawl to Talbot’s side.

  “I’d have thought it would be more painful,” Talbot had said with a glazed look on his face, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t lasted much longer. By the time the healing clerics had arrived, there was nothing they could do.

  He was posthumously awarded a medal of honor for saving the lives of the family they had been protecting and was buried in the Imperial cemetery. His death, close on the heels of Bedell’s death, left Charene in rough shape. Esselles had continued to look in on her after Talbot’s death. Esselles often had trouble believing he was gone.

  Charene wiped the tears from her eyes. “Wait here,” she said, turning to the small dresser across the room. She opened a drawer and pulled out a thin metal chain. Attached to the end was a small teardrop of silver, point down, with a black opal in the center following the shape of the teardrop. Two small rubies were set into the opal itself.

  “This has been in our family for generations,” she said as she stepped forward. “It was returned to me with Talbot’s possessions. I haven’t known what to do with it until now. Like Talbot, Bedell was an only child. No brothers or nephews to pass it on to.

  “But you were practically a brother to Talbot. I want you to have it.”

  Esselles picked it up gently and looked at it. The rubies flared in the sunlight from the doorway. He marveled at its construction, turning it over in his palm before returning it to her. “I can’t take this,” he said. “How can I accept a family heirloom from a family that isn’t my own?”

  “Because you are family,” she insisted. “Please. Take it. Who else would Talbot want wearing his heirloom?”

  With tears coursing down her cheeks, she reached up and tried to place it on his neck, but her fingers were unable to work the delicate clasp. He took it from her hands and fastened it himself. The chain felt cold against his skin, but the opal felt warm. He smiled and hugged her as she wept.

  The day was just beginning to warm up by the time Esselles reached the Bracken Woods. He rode down one of the many animal trails, eventually reaching a small grassy clearing deep into the woods. Here, he unsaddled and unbridled his horse to let her graze while he continued deeper into the woods on foot. He gave her a mental command to stay put and she nickered as she started eating the grass and clover. Through his natural Sorenthian ability, he could hear her thoughts of food and contentment, which he translated to, “As long as there is grass and clover, I’ll wait here all day.”

  He left the clearing and stepped back among the trees. The soft loam held numerous animal tracks. He bypassed the common ones and searched for any of the more elusive denizens of the woods. He eventually found tracks he did not recognize.

  Judging from the tracks, the paws of this creature were heavily clawed. It was five-toed, but the three middle toes were much larger and stronger than the side toes. It appeared to be four-legged with a gait like a giant reptile, legs splayed to the side.

  Esselles followed the trail to an icy stream where the creature apparently had stopped to take a drink. From there, the tracks broke right and changed, as if the creature was running instead of walking.

  A path of horse tracks intersected the creature’s trail. It was evident the horses were shod, and judging from
the depth of the imprints, bearing riders. He felt the temperature of the sod.

  “They were just here,” he said as he stood up, looking and listening for signs of the horses. But he neither saw nor heard any. He could only hear the rush of the waters and the faint crunch of some animal in the woods behind him.

  He was familiar with this particular ravine and knew that further downstream, the canyon walls became too steep to climb out. Seeing no return tracks, he decided they may have forded the stream and crossed on the far side. He plunged into the icy stream and swam to the far side.

  A quick scan of the shoreline revealed hoof prints a little further downstream. He scrambled up the rocks to follow them. As he went deeper into the woods, he could just make out the clop of horses above the fading sounds of the fast running stream. He began to run.

  In the distance, the trail began to brighten. He saw six riders break out into a canter. He sprinted to the edge of the clearing in hopes of catching a glimpse of his quarry.

  Across the clearing he could see six riders chasing a large, furry creature. At this distance, Esselles had trouble making out what it was. Though it moved very quickly, the horses appeared to be gaining on it.

  As they caught up to it, it slowed and dropped into a defensive stance. It reared and raked with its heavily clawed front feet and displayed a mouth full of large, dagger-like teeth.

  “My god, a maerling,” Esselles said. “It’s got to be.” He had never seen one, but had heard about the elusive creatures.

  The riders encircled the creature. It lashed out with lightning quick lunges, but the riders kept their horses far enough away.

  So enthralled was he by the sight of the elusive creature that Esselles did not hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late. He wheeled around to see a large humanoid beast lunge at him from the woods. It hit him square in the shoulder and nearly took his head off at the same time.

  Esselles rolled with the strike, trying to absorb it, but the strike was too hard and he felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder. He continued his roll, landing back on his feet, and turned to face the beast. It was large and ugly. Its arms and legs were heavily muscled and covered with thick, dark hair. Its bloodshot eyes burned with malice above a wide mouth full of large yellow teeth.

  He mentally clicked off a number of creatures it could be and decided none of them were ones he wanted to face in the open, armed only with a hunting knife. He decided to break for the cover of the woods.

  To his surprise, the creature did not pursue. Instead, it planted its feet and began waving its arms. The air around him began to thicken and Esselles found he was suddenly enshrouded in a globe of darkness, getting darker by the second.

  He immediately narrowed down his mental list. A grishmagi! I’m a dead man.

  Now completely enveloped in darkness, he was forced to slow down or risk running straight into a tree. Unconscious is no way to face a grishmagi, he thought, especially since he knew the grishmagi would not be hampered by its own darkness.

  He could hear the grishmagi closing in so he turned to face it, regretting that he was not wearing his guardsman’s armor. Relying on his training, Esselles prepared himself for the grishmagi’s attack, drawing his hunting knife from his belt. He closed his eyes in concentration and listened for the swing of the beast’s arm.

  It came from his left, so he dove to the right. The grishmagi’s claws caught his thigh, but he avoided the majority of the impact. He quickly rolled to his feet, keeping his knife close to his chest so he would not lose it to the beast.

  This time, he was unable to judge the attack and the grishmagi’s claws tore again into his left shoulder, much harder than the first time. A sickening crunch accompanied the sharp pain.

  But as soon as he had felt the hit, Esselles spun and blocked upward with his knife, cutting into the rough hide of the grishmagi. Hot blood spattered his arm. It wasn’t as much damage as he had taken from the grishmagi, but it was something.

  Esselles stepped back, readying for the next attack. But instead, he heard the grishmagi rise tall and let out a bellow of challenge. It must think I can see in the darkness, he thought.

  As the grishmagi’s roar grew closer, Esselles dove forward aiming for where he believed its legs to be. He missed the legs, but his dive caused the grishmagi to miss as well. He tucked and rolled, sending a new wave of pain through his shoulder. He hit his feet and took off running, hoping he was headed away from the trees.

  He reached the edge of the darkness, looked for the nearest cover, and headed towards it. He wasn’t fast enough. Looking over his shoulder he saw the grishmagi at the edge of its circle of darkness, pointing at him. Its eyes glazed over and a cone of white shot from its hand with the sound of breaking glass. Before he could dive from its path, Esselles was struck by a blast of magical energy. Cold penetrated his skin and his muscles failed him. He fell to the ground, his consciousness fading in and out.

  But before long, a warmth began to spread through his chest and he found his lungs were working again. He struggled to move his limbs, but the movements were slow and painful. He could see the grishmagi racing towards him and he could see his fallen knife. He knew he would not be able to recover his knife before the beast was upon him, even with the strange warmth that was now spreading through his body.

  Suddenly, the grishmagi stopped short, a strangled cry escaping its lips. It staggered forward a step or two as it reach around behind its massive back. With a muted cry of pain, it pulled a blood-soaked arrow out of its back and tossed it to the side. With a crazed look in its eyes, it took three long steps towards Esselles and dove at him to crush him.

  But the delay had been long enough for Esselles’ body to recover. With more strength and speed than he thought he could muster, Esselles grabbed his knife and whipped it into position, rolling onto his back and butting his elbows into the earth.

  The grishmagi’s eyes went wide as it saw this happening, but was unable to do anything about it in mid-leap. The grishmagi landed on the knife, catching it square in the chest. Esselles hands buried deep into its chest, instantly covering him with hot, frothy blood. The full weight of the beast came crashing down on him. The impact sent excruciating pain through his entire body, causing him to black out.

  Chapter Three

  “Young man, are you okay? Can you hear me?” came a voice through the fog.

  Esselles was incredibly groggy. Where was that voice coming from? was the closest he could come to coherent thought. About the only other message his brain was sending was pain. Continuous and overwhelming pain. He tried to shake it off, unsuccessfully. But he was able to clear his thoughts well enough to recognize that the voice was female. However, what female and why he should be in such pain still escaped him.

  “He’s coming to,” said a male voice.

  The fog in Esselles’ head began to clear out which only allowed the pains that wracked his body to come in stronger. His whole face tingled, especially his eyes, and his left shoulder felt like it was on fire. In a wash of memory he recalled the attack of the grishmagi – the claws that ripped through his shoulder and the magical white frost that had covered his body. He also remembered the darkness the beast had shed and wondered if that were the cause of his blindness. He tried to wave his hand in front of his face only to find his arms restrained.

  “Young man, do not try to open your eyes. They have suffered extreme frostbite. We have them bandaged,” said the mysterious female voice. A slender hand pressed down on his shoulder. “We saw you being attacked by the grishmagi and came as fast as we could.”

  Esselles felt other hands on him as well. Someone was holding his ankles firmly in place and two people were holding his left shoulder.

  “This is going to hurt,” said the male voice again, from somewhere over his left shoulder.

  The voice was right! Accompanied by an excruciating pain, Esselles heard his shoulder pop as hands pressed and pulled it back into place. Pain shot down his enti
re arm and his hand went numb. He clenched his teeth against the pain, straining the cords of his neck. Cool water was poured over his wounds and someone wiped his forehead.

  “We were quite fearful for your life for a time there,” said the woman, wiping his face again. “Bring me some more water,” she said to someone over her shoulder. Turning back towards Esselles, she asked, “Can you speak?”

  Esselles marked the way she spoke. This was someone who was used to giving orders. He was curious as to who she might be, and as to what she might look like. He tried to form a mental picture of her face, based on her voice.

  “If you can not find your voice, nod,” she said.

  Esselles nodded quickly, jarred from his mental wanderings.

  “Perhaps if you drank some water it would help,” she suggested.

  “Help him sit up,” a deep male voice commanded. Two sets of hands carefully propped him up and someone placed a water skin to his lips. Esselles sipped the water, much of it pouring down his chin. He felt gentle hands wiping away the excess.

  With his right hand he cautiously reached towards his head. He felt a crude bandage wrapped around his forehead and eyes. His skin was tender to the touch.

  “What’s … what’s wrong with my eyes?” he asked.

  “They have suffered from extreme frostbite,” she answered.

  “Oh, yeah,” Esselles replied, realizing as soon as she answered that they had already told him that. “What about my shoulder?”

  “Pretty torn up,” said the man with the deep voice. “You’ve suffered extensive muscle damage as well as a minor dislocation. We were able to pop the shoulder back in place, but you are going to need medical attention. The cuts on your side should heal fine if cleaned out properly. Your lower ribs will be a little sore for a while.”

  Esselles listened to the description of his injuries, taking mental stock of the observations and comparing them to the points of pain in his body. The beast was definitely right handed, Esselles concluded after noting that all of his injuries were on the left side of his body.