by Welcome Cole
Because of the lore surrounding this forest, it seemed to Kaelif a most ironic place to spy on the demon. Tonight would very likely set the game afoot, and he was hungry for the fight that would follow. Tonight’s events would put them officially on their quest. Tonight, his Order would finally find vindication for a thousand years of treachery.
A pair of knees adjusted their position in the humus beside him. A twig snapped as a result.
Kaelif glared down at the skinny, dark-blonde haired boy kneeling beside him, then flicked Seth’s nearest oteuryn with his gloved finger. The aide winced and doubled forward, his head buried in his arms. Kaelif watched the warrior writhe with reasonable satisfaction. He was confident the young Vaemyn wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not with Kaelif standing so close to him, anyway. Still, he had to admit that the young man’s ability to muffle the sound of his pain was fairly impressive.
Minutes later, the taer-cael he’d been eagerly awaiting delivered itself. Kaelif pressed his head into the boulder and harvested the image of riders approaching on the road ahead. It was the wyrlaerd. And as he expected, the beast wasn’t alone.
The vibrations showed the image of three horses riding hard and approaching fast. The demon rode in the lead, but was closely followed by two Faev’gel Guards. Moments later, the unholy trio bounced to a stop on the road at the bend in the river just a few yards out before them. The demon poured to the ground and handed off its reins before the escorts had even dismounted. Its cloak billowed colorlessly in the insipid moonlight as it quickly climbed a massive, sloped boulder on the opposite side of the road overlooking the river. A glimmer of silver revealed the mudsteel armor beneath the cloth.
It was Graezon.
Kaelif was well schooled in the science of demonology, having been taught by his father, who was taught by his father before him. And of all Goelvar’s wyrlaerds, he knew Graezon particularly well. The study and monitoring of this demon had been his family’s obligation to the Eyes for countless generations.
The beast was an important Divinic Demon, High Numen of the Spawning Pits of the Seventh Empyrean Realm of the Wyr, and second Fau’dke only to Goelvar. It was written that he was the first demon servant raised by that nameless Fire Caeyl mage in the beginning of the end so many thousands of years earlier, and the most powerful demon lord after Goelvar. The third Fau’dke, called Wonugh, had been slain at the blue caeyl mage’s house in the heart of Na te’Yed. Kaelif hoped it was the beginning of a trend.
A dead oak, stilted and angular, rose up over the mammoth boulder the demon now stood upon. Lightning had long ago taken the tree’s head, casting it angrily down into the river directly beneath it. Gnarled bones of branches twisted painfully away from the trunk at unplanned intervals like macabre arms cursing the night. The tree ended only where the trunk came to a premature and fractured end a few dozen feet above boulder. The lowest and thickest branch was barely a yard above the demon’s head.
They watched the demon for nearly an hour. During that time, it simply stood there, looking for all the world like an extension of the boulder itself. If the breeze hadn’t occasionally kicked up the hem of its cape, there’d have been no way to prove the beast wasn’t grown from the rock it stood on, like a golem sentry with more time than purpose. Without even a heartbeat to expose it, taer-cael was useless in detecting the creature when it didn’t move.
Seth fidgeted beside him. Kaelif drummed a reprimanding code against the stone. The aide shrugged and nodded.
In normal times, Kaelif would never have considered bringing a boy along on a mission so critical as this one. But the times were dark and growing darker by the beat, and his Order’s numbers were sadly few. They needed every member active these days, even those precious few young members. This was a training exercise, an opportunity to put the feet of their rare youth against the fire and watch for signs of weakness.
Kaelif heard the vibrations of the demon stirring. The beast had turned just a bit, looking now up into the northern stars. Kaelif nudged Seth and nodded up toward the sky beyond the edge of the trees lining the far side of the river. A sound grew in the distance, a sound like flags snapping in a hard wind. It was a prode.
The creature eventually swooped in and landed with great fanfare on a low branch directly above the demon. It was black as tar oil and the size of a vulture, though narrower of build. It bore a spiked head and long, sharp beak. It shuffled nervously back and forth along the branch for several moments, with its leathery wings outstretched, screeching raucously into the night.
The wyrlaerd’s unnatural voice ruptured the silence of the night. “Where are the others?”
The prode released another shrill shriek, its head bobbing wildly, wings held stiffly out to its sides like dark sails.
“All of them?” the demon said, “How is that possible?”
The creature repeated its performance, again dancing back and forth on the thick tree branch. The tufts of quills lining its back pulsed with each squawk, the oily barbs shimmering unnaturally against the pale moonlight.
“Take another mob of prodes and retrieve the dead ones. We can’t risk their discovery by the Baeldons.”
The prode threw down a series of staccato clucks.
“I don’t give a good goddamn if Calina herself was chasing you! Unless you want to stay in that miserable flesh, you’ll do as I say! Or perhaps you’d prefer I simply send you back to the pits?”
The prode fell silent.
Kaelif realized with an appropriate rush of disgust that this was a hack in the primitive form of a prode.
“I thought not. Now give me the caeyl!”
The word hit Kaelif like a horse’s kick. He dropped his head against the boulder as the ground fell out beneath him. The caeyl! This was the worst news he could have heard! Their trackers should have intercepted the caeyl by now!
The prode dropped its head and made a coughing sound, then flipped its beak up and threw a glowing red coal into the air. The demon caught it and turned back toward the forest as it inspected the gem. The mudsteel covering its unholy face shimmered like burning blood in the light pouring from its hand.
Kaelif suppressed a curse. The Blood Caeyl! In the hands of the demon! It was impossible!
One of the Faev’gel guards climbed up the boulder and proffered a small metal box. Graezon deposited the caeyl into it, then looked back up at the prode. “You have your orders. And if you ever expect to occupy a proper body, you won’t fail me again. Now go!”
The prode shrieked once more before diving from the branch. It swooped down past the guards and curved sharply out over the river before climbing rapidly skyward on a series of snaps as its membranous wings scooped the air. Before the prode was even out of sight, the demon and its guards were gone.
When the hoof beats had faded to silence, Seth rolled back against the stone and slid to the dirt. “By gods, what a foul breed,” he said, slipping his glove off.
“Which? The demon, the guards, or the prode?”
Seth wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at his palm glistening in the insipid moonlight. “Point well taken, Kad’r.”
“Come on, I want a closer look.”
Moments later, Kaelif climbed up onto the rock previously occupied by the demon. The night sky was a dull haze of stars, the moon weak and washed out behind a thin veil of clouds. The prode was nowhere to be seen. He knelt down and picked up a quill that’d been shed by the creature. It was just over a foot long and thin as a boar’s hair. The oil glistened in the moonlight.
“This is damned dark business, sir,” Seth whispered below him, “We should go after the Blood Caeyl. We should get it back now.”
Kaelif looked down at the gangly boy. His dark cloak had him wrapped thoroughly against the night. Other than the exposure of his light hair and eyes still wide with the trepidation inspired by the demon, he was nearly invisible.
“We need to go after it, sir,” the boy pressed, “We can’t lose it!”
Kaelif sent his gaze out over the glimmering river. “Throwing ourselves onto a bonfire won’t help the cause, Seth.”
The boy released a deep, adolescent sigh behind him. “How’d we get ourselves into this position, Kad’r? I swear, it defies belief.”
“The methodology is irrelevant,” Kaelif said as he studied the long, delicate quill, “It matters only how we get ourselves out of it.”
“It’s bad. It’s really bad and just keeps twisting worse.”
“Keep a grip on, Seth. They can’t defeat you until you feel your heart slam its last beat. And maybe not even then. Until that moment, you must remain in full command of your elemental strengths. Understand?”
Seth looked up at him for a moment. Then he nodded dutifully. “Ay’a, I understand, sir.”
“Good.”
“Meaning no disrespect, Kad’r, but shouldn’t you be a little more careful with that quill? You can absorb the venom through your skin, you know.”
Kaelif sent the boy a devilish grin. “What, this?” he said, holding the quill up between them, “Why, this doesn’t frighten me.”
“Well, I think it probably should, sir.”
Kaelif took the barb and swiped his bare thumb and forefinger along the length of it, then held them up toward Seth. His fingertips shimmered wet in the moonlight. He flicked the dark oil toward the river.
Seth’s eyes swelled. “Kad’r! What the devil are you doing?”
“I’ve been building resistance to it for some time now.”
“What?”
“My healer has been administering minute doses of the venom to me every week for nigh on two years now. It seems I’ve developed a tolerance for it.”
Seth just stared at him. Then he shook his head. “Again with no disrespect, that seems unnecessarily risky, sir.” He pulled the ampoule of prode oil out of his shirt. “Isn’t that why we have these?”
Kaelif laughed. “The prode oil Prae’s healers gave you? You’re assuming you know what’s actually in that innocent looking vial. Given the option, I prefer reliance on my own defenses.”
Seth opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again. He considered the glass ampoule resting in his palm. His expression said his confidence in the defense would never be the same.
Kaelif turned away from the aide and tossed the prode quill out into the river. Then he threw his cloak back over a shoulder and coaxed his long, unrestrained hair back from his face as he looked up at the stars. Unlike most of his brethren, he didn’t braid his hair except in times of battle. He preferred it loose and unfettered. Braiding it or tying it back only gave him a sense of suffocation.
“I fear Mawby’s found trouble,” he said, more to himself than Seth, “His orders were to commandeer the stone when the trackers apprehended it.”
“Maybe the trackers never got it. Maybe they were disadvantaged by having Fen’lar as their kadeer.”
Kaelif glanced down at the boy. “You realize that remark borders on insubordination, don’t you?”
Seth wisely said nothing.
The Kadeer sent him a forgiving grin. “Forget it, boy. Fen’lar wasn’t put in place as kadeer by accident. Our chances of diverting the stone were supposed to improve by putting him in charge of the Third Tracker Elite Infiltrate. It was the team we most put our faith in.”
Kaelif knelt down and picked up another lost quill. He twisted the queer barb in his fingers as he studied the dark outline of the thinner forest across the river.
“What is it, Kad’r?” Seth asked.
“I fear whatever mischance happened to confound our tracker’s effort was severe. Mawby would never have allowed the caeyl to escape his devices. He’d have cut through any obstacles, friend or foe, to apprehend that stone. This delivery should never have occurred.”
“Well, what about the Saaro? She’s not Lamys te’Faht. Is it possible she may have turned on him? Revealed him to the demon?”
Despite the fact he’d considered the same thing himself, Kaelif was irritated to hear it coming from a subordinate. He threw a reprimanding glare up at the boy. “Who are you to question a warrior as esteemed as Koonta’ar?”
“I didn’t mean—”
Kaelif stood up. “Learn to think before you speak, Seth! She’s one of very few outsiders who even know our Order is more than just folklore. She may harbor some reservations concerning our efforts, but she’d never permit the caeyl fall into their hands. If not to us, she’d have surely taken it back to the Council before handing it off to one of them.”
“Kad’r, I only meant that she—”
“I suspect you’ve said enough, Seth.”
Kaelif glanced up the dark road. He’d raised his voice too high. He was supposed to be mentoring the boy, not beating him down. It was only the kid’s opinion, after all. At least he was thinking beyond the borders.
“Look,” he said after a moment, “Though Saaro Koonta’ar hasn’t exactly given us her proper blessing, she’d also never turn on us. Her honor is far too sound to violate the vow she made to Mawby.”
“Then perhaps she’s dead. Her and Mawby both.”
Kaelif felt the words bite into his belly. It wasn’t a door he was ready to walk through. Not yet.
“We can’t know that,” he forced himself to say, “Frankly, I’m not sure it matters now. Not with the caeyl in the hands of the wyrlaerd. Our cause has just gained itself a bitter justification.”
“Well, I reckon we’ll just have to get it back, then.”
“Well, that’s a real good idea, Seth. Why don’t run yourself on back to camp and politely ask dear Commander Graezon for it?”
“Mm,” Seth said, frowning, “That might not be the best approach.”
“No, probably not. So what say you we take a more tactical approach, eh? You’ll initiate the communication chain soonest we return to camp. I intend to summon a meeting of the Gran’lamys. I want all Eyes within a day’s ride attending. We’ll meet at the regional Speaking Stone in two night’s time at quarter eve. You know where that is?”
“Ay’a, sir.”
“You’ll draft up an encrypted message for me. Ready a civilian courier to carry it south to Prae’s keep tonight. We need to inform Fael'r Braelon of the situation. Maybe she can delay things a bit at that end.”
“Aya, sir,” Seth said, nodding.
“And Seth?”
The boy looked up at him.
“In none of these communications are we to mention the Blood Caeyl. If the winds turn south, if any of us are discovered, no one is to have information the beasts may be able to extract. Do you understand? The stone was delivered here in secret for a reason. They want to keep us ignorant. Let’s not have them believe otherwise.”
“If they took me, I’d never talk.”
“If they took you, I’d kill you before you could.”
The flush in Seth’s face was clear even in the weak moonlight, but it only lasted a moment. “I expect you’d have to,” he said exactly as if he meant it, “I reckon this means we’re finally on, eh?”
Kaelif jumped down from the boulder and slapped the boy on the shoulder. “My friend, we haven’t appreciated just how easy our path has been before this. But I believe we’re about to.”
VI
THE OFFICERS COUNCIL
MAL GAVE THE SMUGGLER A MOMENT TO SETTLE HIMSELF BEFORE PROCEEDING.
The man stood ill at ease at the opposite end of the long meeting table and just before the door. Fresh from the road, he still wore his dirty, bloodstained buckskins. His face was grime-streaked, his fingers charred black with dirt and soot, his long, greasy hair pasted to his skull in the shape of the worn blue tricorn hat he now wrestled between his hands. He was clearly as uncomfortable as a pig at a roast.
Mal and Lucifeus sat side by side directly across the room from him at the head of the table. Plates of food, pitchers of mead and ale, and all the necessary accoutrements required for the dressing and consumption of the same crowded the table sur
face separating them. A modest fire burned in the fieldstone fireplace adorning the wall several feet behind them. A dozen lamps hanged along the wood plank walls and from the beamed ceiling, so that the windowless room was bright as day and warm as a smelting chamber.
A dozen high officers sat along the length of both sides of the table, and another fifteen lesser officers stood lining the walls around it. Every eye in the room was aimed directly at this man. It was the second time in an hour the council had called Treggel back to repeat his story, and the man was clearly doubly miserable for it.
“We appreciate your patience, Treg,” Mal said, trying to put the man at ease, “But this is a most disturbing affair. We absolutely must know that we have all the—”
“You’re certain none of the savages escaped?” Lucifeus butted in, “Absolutely certain? Sink me, there’s no room for variations on a truth here. Think, now, Treg, and riposte with a confident tongue.”
Treggel wrenched his hat like a security blanket. “Nay, Cap’n Fark. It’s just as I said afore ye let me out for a piss. Scouted them grasses a good mile’s cir… circ… circa…” He stopped and gaped up into the dark ceiling.
“Circumference,” Lucifeus said for him.
“Aye,” Treggel said, snapping his fingers, “Aye, a good mile’s circumference. Searched the area real thorough, we did. Didn’t find no other tracks. Had us a couple of ye savages with us, too. They didn’t hear nothing with their horns, neither.”
“Exactly how many scouts did you have in your company?” a coarse female voice burst out.