by Unknown
"To a demon?" Doirbhall glanced back at Angeline. "How inconvenient."
Angeline stumbled in her attempt to be righteously indignant. The flicker of a smile on Doirbhall's face prevented her from making a bigger fool of herself.
Reaching the counter, the healer absently ground hr pestle in her mortar. She said sternly, "You should have told me that first. Magic is involved and that concerns you. What are your plans?"
"I was on my way to El-lina."
"She's gone."
Angeline was at a loss. She knew better than to question Doirbhall. The herbalist was never wrong. Now what am I going to do?
As if reading Angeline's mind, Doirbhall asked, "Now what are you going to do?"
It irritated Angeline that Doirbhall made her think. The High Priestess thought highly of Angeline. Why didn't the herbalist? The young sorceress thought aloud, "A demon cannot be allowed to operate this close to High City."
"Go on."
Angeline sagged. Doirbhall was never satisfied until she got what she wanted. Angeline wondered what that was. A flash of inspiration brought clarity. "The Sunfather of the West stretches forth his hand. The Central Lands tremble."
"Mieze's Manifesto. You know it. Good girl. Tell me what I want to hear."
"You found a patron at Reis' manor!"
"You wish."
Baron Reis' manor was as far away from High City as one could get without going to Grimval valley. Angeline sighed. She couldn't win against Doirbhall. She thought harder. The pieces came together. "You think Malcolm's kidnapping and the Cap Tan's murder is part of Mieze's Manifesto."
Throw the lands into chaos, then invade."
Angeline's eyes widened. "The Sunfather must be stopped."
"What's the response to Mieze's Manifesto?"
Angeline recited by rote. "The smallest of seeds arise in the Central Lands. She causes the trembling to cease." Angeline paused. "Hey, what are you saying?" She glared at the herbalist. "The smallest of seeds? Really?"
"You're not done trembling yet," said Doirbhall.
Angeline rolled her eyes.
Doirbhall set her mortar and pestle on the counter. She wiped her hands on her apron and went down the aisle on her left. After selecting an item from a shelf, she returned and held it up. "You need something to stop the trembling."
Angeline's senses heightened as she stared at the crudely carved stone woman. She reminded herself to breathe. "That will stop it?"
"Not unless you throw it at the demon and, by good fortune, strike a vulnerable area. use all your senses, girl!" Doirbhall put the figurine in her mortar and crushed it into powder with just a few strokes of her pestle. "Do not let your eyes dominate your reasoning."
Angeline cast her eyes down. Just once she would like to have a pleasant conversation with the herbalist.
"Did you catch the demon's scent?" asked Doirbhall.
"Cinnamon."
Doirbhall frowned. "De Spar."
The hair on Angeline's arm stood up. Her skin tingled. De Spar, third in line behind the Sunfather of the West. Everything she ever heard about him was bad.
"Give me your ambrosia."
Angeline balked. One did not simply hand over ambrosia to another. Then again, Doirbhall wasn't just another. She was ... well, she was Doirbhall, trusted advisor to both El-lina and Tierra. Angeline unclasp the chain holding the ambrosia and handed the healer the cylinder.
A honeyed scent tickled Angeline's nostrils, lifting her spirits. Nothing could match the intoxicating aroma of ambrosia or its invigorating affect. Angeline watched Doirbhall sprinkle a pinch of crushed stone over her treasure.
"Have you located the demon yet?" asked the herbalist.
"No."
"You haven't got all turning, girl."
Angeline's cheeks reddened. She brought the cinnamon scent to mind. Find. She smelled the sharp scent of rosemary as her own magic followed the lingering traces of the demon's magic to its source. A sea of grass pictured itself in her mind. "He's less than a turning south. In the grasslands."
"Hmm, that would be the shrine of the Sisters of the Forlorn. Here."
Doirbhall handed Angeline her cylinder. "It'll work only for a short time."
Angeline fastened the chain around her neck. "What will it do?"
Doirbhall smiled. "Enhance an already pleasant surprise in store for De Spar. Used properly, it stops the Central Lands from trembling. Now off with you."
Unsatisfied and feeling rushed, Angeline turned to leave.
Doirbhall gave a last farewell, "El-lina is right. You show much promise."
Outside, the bounce returned to Angeline's stride, though she did wish the herbalist would speak more plainly. Behind her, familiar steps approached.
"When are we leaving?" asked Conner.
Angeline didn't bother to look back. "Who are you and why are you following me?"
"It's so romantic," said Conner, talking aloud to himself. "I must help the mistress. She'll need me."
Angeline looked back over her shoulder. Conner was the picture of sincerity. She chewed on her lower lip. A pang of regret over the harsh words she had spoken to him pricked her conscience. De Spar was no joke and Angeline had to face him. She didn't want to endanger her friend, but he could be right. She might need him.
Central Landers did not know much about the hierarchy of the Western Lands. What they did know was that the goddess Mieze was not the kindest or most forgiving of goddesses. This trait manifested itself in all of her minions, especially De Spar.
El-lina had on many occasions warned Angeline against facing him. "He is diabolical and ambitious. You'll need a lot of experience before even considering challenging him."
There was no time to garner any of that experience. Angeline had to be ready now. For the sake of the Central Lands, for Malcolm, and for Conner.
By noon the next turning, Angeline and Conner stood at the entrance to the hidden valley in the grasslands. In its center rose the shrine of the Sister of the Forlorn. It had been Angeline's choice to travel by horse rather than teleport. Teleporting took too much energy and she didn't know how much she would need to defeat De Spar.
She had also dressed for battle. Her loose trousers, soft leather shirt and undershirt, and supple knee-high boots would allow her the freedom of movement necessary to wield the sword belted at her waist. She often sparred with Malcolm and knew which end to stick in the enemy if the situation called for it.
Angeline wasn't sure what weapons Conner could access. Whatever he wanted seemed to materialize in his hands. His preference seemed to be projectile weapons, especially bow, sling, and spear.
A figure exited the shrine. It vanished from the doorstep and reappeared a handful of arm lengths away. Dressed as a manservant, he held a silver charger before him. On the charger was a folded sheet of parchment. The manservant walked up to Angeline and gave her a slight head bow.
"Lady Simon, I bring an invitation from my master." He offered the charger. Angeline picked up the paper and opened it. The manservant continued, "Your betrothed is well, though he appears to be in a foul mood."
"Fowl?" said Conner. "Did the demon turn your betrothed into a bird?"
"Hush, fool," Angeline said to Conner. She dropped the invitation back on the charger. "Tell your master, De Spar, we would be happy to discuss the matter."
The manservant disappeared in a flash. The scent of cinnamon lingered behind. He's either very strong or very confident, Angeline thought. She looked at Conner. "We've been invited into the shrine to negotiate Malcolm's release."
"It's a trap, Mistress."
Angeline grinned and winked at Conner. "Of course it is, but sneaking up on him unseen was never a possibility.
This way we don't have to fight our way in. Half the battle is won."
"It's the other half I worry about, Mistress."
"What's your point?" snapped Angeline. "This demon thinks he's already defeated us. We have him where we want him. Malcolm's as g
ood as freed. Think it and it is done." Angeline snapped her fingers for emphasis. "Come along."
Angeline knew she was in a glamour as soon as she entered the shrine. The inside was modestly decorated, but in the fashion of the well-to-do, instead of as a devotional to a goddess. De Spar, currently in human form and dressed as a successful merchant, sat in a comfortable-looking wingback chair. Only his colorful neck scarf seemed out of place. His manservant stood by his side.
"Please be seated," said De Spar. A teapot and a decanter appeared on his manservant's charger. "Would you like some tea or wine?"
Conner raised his hand. "I would like some─"
"No you wouldn't," Angeline corrected. She wasn't about to give the demon an opportunity to drug them. She gave De Spar a slight head bow. "We are fine, thank you."
"As you will," said De Spar. "I would like to thank you for agreeing to this visit. It saves unnecessary bloodshed. Shall we begin?"
Angeline looked over at Conner. With a sniff she stuck her nose up in the air and looked away, giving him her best I-told-you-so gesture. Angeline didn't believe a deal was possible, but talking would give her an idea about what De Spar thought. "Yes, let's. How is Malcolm? Can I see him?"
"That might be counterproductive at the moment. He is alive and wishes to remain that way. Whether or not his wishes are fulfilled is up to you."
De Spar's soothing voice relaxed Angeline's fears while his words alarmed her. "If you've tortured him, then there is no deal. I will not pay for damaged goods."
"What is torture? A little pain? A little discomfort? Persuasion is not always pleasant. Sometimes torture is rapturous."
Angeline felt a little of the rapture the demon spoke of. Deep down. His dulcet tones tingled parts of hr she'd rather not mention. Her lips parted. What was it he had said? "So you are gently stroking Malcolm?"
"Why speak of this Malcolm?"
Angeline shivered. A warmth spread through her. Her tongue peeked out between her lips. She said huskily, "Who would you rather speak of?"
De Spar smiled. his eyes danced hypnotically. "You, Angeline. Yes, I know your name. That and much more. I know what to touch and when. I would take you back to the Lair. I would make you deliriously happy. Agree and I will let this Malcolm go. Refuse, and he will die."
It was the demon's last words that revealed his spell of beguilement. Angeline reached up and stroked her pendant. She glanced at Conner and blinked. Branches sprang from De Spar's chair, securing his arms and legs.
Conner launched a fusillade of arrows and stones. The first arrow took the manservant between the eyes. The rest centered on De Spar's neck scarf. Sparks flew where Conner's weapons bounced off the demon. De Spar bulged his muscles and leaped out of the chair. The branches that held him snapped like twigs.
Angeline took a step back. Those branches were iron oak.
A scimitar appeared in De Spar's right hand. His eyes blazed. "You would do this to me?" asked De Spar. "After what I offered you? That is most unfortunate. But first I will deal with your nuisance pet."
Angeline desperately searched through her knowledge of spells.
De Spar reached out his left hand. Conner rose from the ground. The demon closed his fingers and Conner moved toward De Spar. The little Easterner continued firing until he hung suspended before the demon's face.
"What's this? A puny human?" He sniffed, then snarled, "Easterner!"
A greenish gas enveloped De Spar's face. The demon flung Conner out of the cloud with a thunderous bellow, "A Reek!"
De Spar lost control of the glamour disguising the shrine. It disappeared in a rippling of the air. Angeline took advantage of the opening. An air tight bubble containing much of the gas excreted by Conner sealed itself around De Spar's head. Conner hit the floor and rolled to his feet, bow at the ready.
The next moment Conner's gas reached Angeline. She nearly fell to her knees, choking. Through watering eyes, she saw the demon as he truly was. Terrifying. She wanted to flee. Already choking, her short quick breaths threatened hyperventilation. She splayed her arms behind her as she backed up a few steps.
With his high, sharp cheekbones and back-sloping forehead, the huge red gargoyle that kidnapped Malcolm off her balcony stood before her. He was easily twice her size with his wings furled. His eyes were red-hot coals embedded in the darkest ebony. They burned with anger. De Spar extended his arm to the side.
Malcolm appeared, suspended in the air next to De Spar. He was encased in a shell like the one she cast around De Spar's head. Her betrothed's eyes were filled with desperation. His hands frantically probed the walls of the shell, looking for a way out.
Angeline stopped backing up and took a step forward. A mirror spell! Her legs went wobbly. Whatever she cast against De Spar would now also affect Malcolm. Already he was on his knees gasping. As she watched, her betrothed slumped to the bottom of his shell.
Angeline cancelled the spell. Malcolm fell to the ground with a thud. Conner dashed forward and pulled him off t the side.
Freed, De Spar rose to his full height and spread his wings. He roared in outrage. The entire room shook with the force of his voice. Dust drifted down from the rafters of the now plain looking room. The demon lunged forward.
Angeline fell back. The breeze of his taloned fist caressed her face as it passed before her. She felt the snap of a chain. Her hand flew to her neck. The cylinder of ambrosia was gone. Her pulse quickened. Her eyes darted about, finally locating the cylinder as it bounced across the floor.
De Spar grabbed again. This time he snatched Angeline around the waist. He drew her close. "Aha! I have you. My goddess, Mieze, warned that you had a lot of promise," sneered De Spar. "But what you needed was ability!"
Angeline shut out the hurtful words. She struggled. Contact with the demon was sapping her of her will. Soon she wouldn't have enough left to cast a spell. Her gaze rested on the cylinder of ambrosia.
"You can take him, Mistress," said Conner. "You've got him right where you want him."
When I get out of this, I'm going to throttle me a Reek, she promised to herself. She glanced at Conner. He kept reaching for his neck. She studied the neck shield of De Spar. Of course, it covers his weak spot. The knowledge would be of little use if she couldn't escape. She tried a beguiling spell of her own. She put everything she had left into it. Her voice was provocative, enticing. "Release me. Release me. Release me."
De Spar's mocking laughter burned her ears. His grip continued to drain her will. "You have no power over me. You are just a child."
That was the final straw. Angeline's humiliation boiled over. Her first big test and she was getting beaten. If she could just reach her cylinder. An idea bubbled up through the jumbled maze of her mind. He thinks I'm a child. I'll act like one. Channeling all her spoiled royalty temper tantrums, she blurted, "You wouldn't say that if I gave you the nectar of the goddesses!"
The change in De Spar was metamorphic. "Ambrosia? You have ambrosia?"
His grip slackened.
Angeline felt a surge of will. It would look good using her life saver in her first fight, but neither would dying. She reached out her hand. "To me."
The cylinder flew into her hand as if shot from a bow. She waved it enticingly in front of the demon.
All traces of his demonic personality vanished. Eagerness now dominated. "Ambrosia?" he repeated. "For De Spar?"
Angeline unscrewed the cylinder. A honeyed scent tickled her nostrils. She felt invigorated. "Release me."
The affect on De Spar was dramatic. His once blazing orbs now shone with a puppy's desire to please. He practically groveled as he gently freed her.
Angeline drew her sword. She knew what she had to do and did not feel the least bit guilty. "Yes, for De Spar. But first he must take off his neck shield."
The shield clattered to the floor. Angeline had never even heard of a demon acting in this manner. It must be the ground stone Doirbhall added, she thought.
Underneath the shiel
d, the skin of De Spar's neck was thin, little more than a membrane.
"Sit," commanded Angeline.
De Spar squatted down on his haunches.
Angeline handed him the cylinder.
His tongue eagerly scooped the ambrosia out of the cylinder. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy.
Angeline drove her sword through the thin membrane of his throat.
With a gurgling sound, De Spar's huge body began to dissolve.
"You did it, Mistress!" shouted Conner.
Angeline's concerns were elsewhere. Her sword fell from her nerveless fingers as she rushed toward Malcolm. Placing her hand over his chest, she felt his heart. It was still beating. Angeline exhaled softly. Relief filled her. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "Thank you, Tierra, for Malcolm and for keeping us alive."
Conner crept closer. He chewed his lower lip while wringing his hands. Your betrothed? He lives?"
Angeline smiled. "He lives, Conner. We did it."
The Reek squatted down. He looked enraptured. "You proved your worth. It's so romantic."
"Of course. I have ...," Angeline stopped her boast mid-sentence. She put her arm around Conner's shoulders and squeezed, "a lot more to learn."
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