LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  The Demon blinked in surprise.

  Luc Polson pounded his fist upon the table, startling everyone. “Don’t speak of that creature on my ship. You’ll curse her and my crew.”

  “That is a seaman’s superstition.” Jagur waved his hand dismissively and gave a sigh at his empty tankard. “Besides, Hawkshadow is hardly some fearsome beast. He’s but a boy with a reputation.”

  “That ‘boy’ infiltrated a sacred Jornoan temple and recovered what no one believed to have existed,” Safir-Tamik said in a low voice.

  The Demon blinked again. Is he paying me a compliment?

  “He has done his job,” Jagur agreed. He produced the golden-white stone from his bag and set it atop the table. “The Stone of Prophecy…” The wizard’s stout fingers caressed its smooth surface. “He will be compensated for his efforts.”

  Safir-Tamik smirked and shook his head; Jagur ignored him.

  “Yeah, but what about him?” Polson nodded toward the Ilangien. “What’re you going to do with him?”

  “What do I care for some liberated prisoner?” the wizard asked, his eyes still upon the stone. “He can go where he pleases—home to the Great Forest where all Elves dwell with the unicorns, pixies, and the like.” Jagur chuckled to himself. “Perhaps you will take him there, Lord Tamik.”

  The Demon could almost see the Jornoan’s rage radiating from his reddened face. He watched the woman move her hand to his arm.

  “Please, Medoriate Jagur, acknowledge the success of this expedition for what it is,” she said gently. “Do not mock your associate in what should be a celebratory occasion. You have your stone, and we have our journal. The venture was flawless; our standing terms are agreeable.”

  “Yes, of course. I…” The wizard rattled on, but the Demon did not hear him. His attention was on the Ilangien, who had turned in his chair to stare directly at him. The pale immortal smiled, turning back to the table.

  All voices fell silent as the Ilangien stood. “Please excuse me,” he said without inflection. Then he started for the steps.

  Sieqa. Now what? the Demon wondered. He fled up the stairs as soundlessly as he had come, pushed past the door, and headed for the bow. Not like I have anywhere to go. He dropped his Shadow, for apparently he could not hide from the Ilangien even if he wanted to. He glanced behind him to see the telltale glow in the stairwell. Presently, the tall, pale form appeared, his gaze locked upon the Demon.

  The Demon waited for him, his elbows propped upon the bulwark as he set his sight upon the Draebongaunt Ocean. When his stomach began to protest, he finally turned to acknowledge his visitor. The Ilangien stood behind him, his gray-cast and hollow face bereft of emotion.

  “’Tis a strange cast with whom you travel,” he said.

  “Coming from a glowing bloke ‘oo lived inside a mountain?”

  “Am I a ‘bloke’?” The luminous silver-blue eyes searched the Demon’s.

  “Er, yeah.” They stared at each other for a moment, the silence growing awkward. The Demon watched him glance around the ship until the Ilangien’s gaze returned to him. “What was it y’ wanted?” he asked, thinking the Ilangien had become distracted.

  “Did I not say? The cast….”

  “Yeah, they’re strange. ‘Twasn’t a question, though.”

  “The question was implied. Why do you travel with them, by choice or by necessity?” The Ilangien’s eyes pried at him, though his expression betrayed no emotion.

  The Demon’s response was automatic. “Why were y’ inside a mountain, by choice or by necessity?”

  The Ilangien turned to the ocean, peering down into its depths. “So they are not amiable companions as such. You have motives just as they have motives.”

  The Demon nodded, taking a step away from him. “I’d like to be paid. ’S how it works, usually. Y’ do something for someone, y’ get paid.”

  “A service rendered.”

  “Right.”

  “You did not liberate me with the promise of a reward.” The Ilangien glanced at him.

  The Demon shrugged and sat atop the bulwark, his bare feet dangling over the side of the ship. “Y’ don’ owe me anything.”

  “I have nothing to give,” the Ilangien said.

  “Then we’re good an’ even.”

  “You must have wanted something, though, to have willingly come to a gathering of ‘blokes’ you do not like.”

  The Demon shrugged again. “’S not like I planned to chat with them.”

  “What was it you wanted?” the Ilangien pressed.

  “I’m asking y’ the same thing.” He stood, balanced atop the thin margin of the railing. He began walking his way toward the forecastle, aware that the Ilangien followed him on the deck.

  “Conversation is difficult when questions are answered with questions.”

  The Demon did not look his way. “Y’ don’ seem too eager to give answers, either. Look, mate, ’tis best if y’ just say what y’ want. I can talk in circles all night, but ‘twon’t do either of us a lick o’ good.” He continued to walk along the edge, unconcerned by the rolling of the waves.

  “Your wizard will not gain any prophetic insight from a polished desk ornament.”

  The comment achieved its desired effect: the Demon stopped in his tracks, his eyes lifting toward the horizon. “What?”

  “The stolen stone is worthless to your employer. It is bereft of magic, let alone prophecy.”

  The Demon spun to regard him. The Ilangien stood with his arms folded, his cool gaze upon him. “What do y’ know about any of it?”

  The Ilangien breathed an indignant sigh. “What do I not know? You have stolen for these men what they have asked of you. The man known as Safir-Tamik has attempted to deceive everyone, for he has concocted this mission for his own benefit. He seeks to impress his lady companion with the contents of the journal, and her approval could mean an advancement in his status—whatever that may be. He enticed the wizard’s superiors with ‘The Stone of Prophecy’, and so they have funded this excursion with Lelan Jagur as their representative.

  “Jagur is a fool; he knows nothing of the treasure he seeks. You, too, were left ignorant, for Safir-Tamik expected you to fail—at least in part—in your mission. What he did not expect was your complete success. Even now, you do not realize just what you have achieved, and Safir-Tamik wonders if you have seen through his deception from the onset of the mission. The question, then, is what will you do now that you have the advantage over your employer? Will you reveal the truth, or will you support the lie?”

  The Demon sat down. His eyes fell to his feet as he thought. After a moment, he looked up at the Ilangien, his brow furrowed. He lifted a finger. “Y’re the Stone?”

  The Ilangien smiled.

  The Demon rubbed his bandaged forehead. “Jagur doesn’t know. ‘E shouldn’t know unless y’ want ‘im to lock y’ up for ‘imself.” He closed his eyes. “But Safir-Tamik knows, so y’ll probably get locked up anyway.” He opened his eyes to find the Ilangien was now frowning.

  “This is where you are significant, Durmorth. I will not suffer imprisonment again.” The Ilangien’s thin mouth was set firm. “You must help me.”

  The Demon made a face. “What do y’ think I can do?”

  “You will allow me to accompany you north, to medori territory.”

  “What makes y’ think I—”

  The Ilangien gave another sigh. “I see you. I see the Shadow that is you, and I see the Shadow-plague that is killing you. Your monetary compensation will buy you a remedy—one that only medori talent can provide. For me, they will remove my bane—” he touched the thin collar around his neck—“and I will walk free.”

  The Demon scowled. “So y’ got it all sorted, eh? There’s jus’ one thing.” He stood. “What ‘appens when I refuse?” He faced the water and jumped. Wings spread, he glided over the water to a place beneath the bowsprit, where he nestled in an obscure niche, beyond sight.

  “Hawkshadow!”
>
  The Demon opened his eyes to the sight of a burgeoning crimson sky and choppy water. He shivered in the cold, dank air, recalling he had chosen this precarious place to spend the night away from everyone. He had not slept well, and now the wizard’s nasally voice assaulted him from above. At first he thought Lelan Jagur had located him, but when the wizard continued to call out, the Demon had to decide to reveal himself or not. Even if he could remain hidden the entirety of the day, he would have to find a more comfortable location to do so. It was with great reluctance that he decided to answer Jagur’s summons.

  The Demon maneuvered around the figurehead, climbed atop the bowsprit, and eased his way onto the forecastle deck. Jagur had not been far away, and when he spied the Demon’s shrouded form, he called to him excitedly. “Hawkshadow! Hawkshadow, I must speak with you.”

  When the Demon did not heed the wizard’s beckon as quickly as he would have liked, Jagur hurried over to him, his silken robes billowing around his husky frame. The Demon fought a smile, thinking he looked like a large, pompous green duck floundering across the deck.

  Puffy face red from exertion, Jagur grabbed the Demon’s arm for support as he sought to catch his breath. The Demon frowned and squirmed away, though Jagur was heedless of his irritation. The wizard was too excited.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” Jagur said once he had recovered.

  “What for?”

  “Why, to congratulate you, of course. You successfully recovered the Stone of Prophecy. I am so very pleased, as will be my peers.” The wizard beamed and withdrew the stone from the bag. He held it high in the strengthening sunlight. “It is a marvelous thing.”

  It sure is. The Demon watched him, wondering if the wizard had slept with the bag that night.

  “You don’t understand the value of this piece. I can feel its magic; it waits for me to unlock the secrets to its power.”

  “Right.”

  The wizard lowered the stone and regarded the Demon. “Do you know about prophecy, Hawkshadow?”

  “No, sir.”

  “It is a true gift. This stone can reveal the path of the future. It can change all that we know, all that we believe to be true.” Jagur smiled at him. “You have been instrumental in this mission. I will see that you are well rewarded.”

  “Nah, just pay me like y’ promised,” the Demon said casually.

  The wizard gave him a funny look. “Well, of course. Once we reach shore—”

  “Did I miss breakfast?” Now it was the Demon’s turn to look serious.

  “Pardon?”

  “Breakfast, sir.”

  “No, I…I think Mr. Ginmon is still in the galley….”

  “Bonzer. Thanks.” The Demon dipped his head and walked off before Jagur could say another word. For as much as the wizard annoyed and pestered him, a prick of conscience stabbed at the Demon, and he wanted to be away from him.

  As he crossed the main deck toward the galley, he glimpsed the Ilangien standing at the starboard bulwark. Their gazes met for but an instant before the Demon disappeared below deck. He slipped past a few members of the crew in the narrow passage before reaching a small room with benches and a table. Jaice was seated by his half-empty trencher, though his hands were occupied with his knife and carving. He looked up and smiled when he saw the Demon in the doorway.

  “Oi, come for breakfast, did y’? I thought maybe they killed y’ an’ threw y’ overboard.” His smile broadened into a grin that stretched wide his scruffy face.

  The Demon came and sat across from him, resting his head in his hand.

  “I’m no medic, but y’ should probably change that.” Jaice motioned to the bandage. “Y’ look terrible—like y’ didn’t sleep or—”

  “I didn’t,” the Demon said.

  Jaice studied him and stood. “Jus’ wait a spit.” He disappeared into the galley.

  The Demon reached and took the piece of wood Jaice had left upon the table. He must have worked on it all night, he thought, amazed at the progress. What had been an amorphous block of pine was now the slender, curvaceous form of a woman with long hair and a fish tail. Her face was serene and comely—not at all like the mermaids the Demon knew.

  Jaice returned with a loaded trencher of bread, cheese, and some more broth. “Eat something,” he said. “I feel starved just looking at y’.”

  “Thanks, mate.” He handed Jaice the carving. “’S nice.”

  The adventurer scratched his curly head. “’S not something I usually carve. Jus’ took shape, really. I think I’m ‘appy with it.” He sat down, eager for conversation, but waited for the Demon to begin his meal first. “Is something else eatin’ y’? Did Jagur ‘ave y’ fetch ‘is ale again? Wash ‘is cloak? Rub ‘is feet?”

  The Demon grimaced. “I would never do that. Not for all ‘is money.”

  “’E treats y’ like ‘is slave.”

  “Not today. ‘E’s ‘appy with ‘is rock.” The Demon dunked the hard bread into the broth before he bit into it. “Anyway, won’t ‘ave to suffer ‘im much longer.”

  “Y’re going t’ off ‘im?” Jaice asked, a glint in his eye.

  “Then we won’t get paid.”

  “Oh, right.” The adventurer toyed with his knife, and the Demon watched him, sensing he had something he wanted to say. “Y’ know, I was thinking…there’s good business out there—for the taking.”

  The Demon took a drink from his bowl and waited.

  “There’s treasure to be found, places to explore. I’ve been thinking o’ getting a party together—some mates ready for the adventure. Prob’ly need a medic, an ‘unter, a tracker…a retrieval expert.” His blue eyes met the Demon’s. “That could be y’.”

  The Demon turned away. “Sounds like fun.”

  “But? What’s to stop y’? Y’ know I’d split the profits fairly. ‘Twould be a riot. An’ y’ wouldn’t ‘ave to suffer any wizards or bastards as y’r employer.” He poked the Demon’s arm with the butt of his knife. “Y’ave a job after this? I can wait. No worries.”

  “No,” the Demon said, his voice quiet. “’S not that. ’S personal matters.”

  “Ah, I see. Prob’ly some lil’ demon wife y’ave. If she’s nice, she can come along.”

  The Demon shook his head. “No wife.”

  Jaice drummed his fingers on the table. “If y’ don’ wanna join up, then just say so, mate. I won’t take it personal.”

  “No, I would join y’. I want to. But I can’t. There’s something I ‘ave to do, an’ I don’ know…” He looked at his hands under the table. “I don’ know I’ll come out on top.”

  Jaice’s expression grew serious. “Y’ need ‘elp? Y’ know I would, if I can….”

  “Y’ can’t.” The Demon ate the last bit of cheese, even though he was no longer hungry. He stood. “I think I’m going to get some rest.” He knew Jaice’s eyes followed him as he headed for the door.

  “If y’ change y’r mind, mate, I’ll be waiting,” the adventurer voiced after him.

  The Demon gave a nod. He decided his best chance to find solitude would be in the cargo hold. As he headed for the stairs, he felt his stomach tighten, and his meal rose in his throat. He thought he glimpsed the Ilangien’s pale glow, but he was not about to wait. He quickened his pace and descended the stairs into the darkness of the lower level.

  The blonde woman appeared from below him. “Pardon me,” she said, gathering her skirts and hastily climbing the stairs. She did not look at him as she passed, but he could not help but stare at her. She had not been alone. He could smell the pipe smoke before he could see the silhouette of the Jornoan standing to the side of the steps. The Demon almost turned and headed back the way he had come.

  “Hawkshadow.”

  The Demon wavered, indecisive.

  “I have been meaning to speak to you.”

  You and everyone else. The Demon’s eyes were suited for the dark, and they could see the tension upon Safir-Tamik’s face.

  When the De
mon did not speak, Safir-Tamik continued. “Your mission was a success.”

  “What of it?”

  “You brought back the Stone of Prophecy.”

  “That was the idear,” the Demon said, knowing where the awkward conversation was headed.

  Safir-Tamik could hold back no longer. He gripped the Demon’s arm. “What do you know?” he demanded.

  The Demon jerked away. “Don’t touch me,” he said, his voice like a dagger against the Jornoan’s neck.

  Safir-Tamik angled himself in front of the stairwell. “You know what he is, don’t you? That is why you brought him. How did you know? Who told you—?”

  “I didn’t know,” the Demon spat. “’E told me last night.”

  “Don’t insult my intelligence. The wizard doesn’t know, does he?”

  “Does it look like ‘e knows?”

  “He must not learn the truth. The fool must go on believing he has the stone.” This was more of a thought spoken aloud, but then the Jornoan turned to him as though he might strike him. “What is your aim? What will you do with him?”

  “Nothing. Nigqor-slet.” The Demon could feel heat rise to his face, and he sought to hold his temper. “Y’r other ‘alf went upstairs.”

  Safir-Tamik scowled at him. “The Stone belongs to my people. Whatever your intentions, know that I will lay claim to him. If you interfere—”

  “Whatever. Don’t keep the lady waiting.” The Demon smirked.

  Safir-Tamik clenched his fist and glared at him, then brusquely spun and pounded up the stairs. Only when he had gone did the Demon give way to his emotions, trembling in rage. One of the crates began to smolder, and he smothered it with his cloak. He would have smashed something if he knew it would not draw attention.

  Instead, he paced furiously in the darkness. What will you do? Kill me? What would I want with an immortal? My personal fortune-teller? Nigqor-slet, Jornoan bastard. I should take back his journal. I should tell the wizard about the Stone. I should… The Demon took a deep breath and sat down on a sack of flour. He rubbed his eyes and propped his chin in his hands. His head throbbed, and his body ached from his adventure in the mountain. He flung himself backward and lay there, staring at the planks of the ceiling. Nigqora. He did not want to think about anyone aboard the ship. He did not want to think about his predicament either. All he wanted was peaceful silence. The Demon closed his eyes.