Demonkin (18 page)

“He claimed to be a hunter who ranged near a small town in Rain, a mining village called Knoll Point. It's in the shadow of Pale Lake, a large body of water—”

“I know where it is. Are the Mavoureen there?”

“We can't be sure, but Demonkin must be. One of them may know more about how Abaddon arrived here, and about their plans to invade.”

“Who's King Haven sending to investigate?”

“No one. Not yet.”

Kara clenched a fist. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“Kara, we only found out today. Tellvan has us fully engaged and their armies are gaining ground. Layn Keep fell days ago.”

Kara's heart rose to her throat. “Solyr?”

“Still safe. We suspect the Tellvan will bypass it entirely — magic academies remain neutral ground, and any attack on Solyr would incite reprisals against Lunyr — but they can cut Solyr off. The Tellvan are simply better at waging war.”

“We can't let them take Solyr.”

“How do we stop it? With the evacuation of the Martial Steppes and holding the line against the Tellvan, we must plan carefully before sending forces into Rain. Haven plans to dispatch a small force later this week.

“Sera will be dead by then.”

“I believe you. I also think the Mavoureen will launch an invasion sooner, not later.”

“And King Haven doesn't?”

“King Haven doesn't have a lot of options.”

“What about the prince? Can't you talk to him?”

“Prince Beren has left the capital to close the Ranarok passes. We must stop the Tellvan there, or Tarna will come under siege.”

Kara closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, her head pounding. “Please. Get me out of here.”

“Kara—”

“Get me
out
.” She opened her eyes and grabbed Anylus's thin hands. “I'll head to Knoll Point, find a Demonkin and interrogate them. I'll move faster alone. I can do this, Anylus.”

Kara imagined the Underside devouring Sera, imagined Abaddon ripping Trell's limbs off one by one. She could not live in a world where she let that happen.

“If we leave,” Anylus said, pulling his hands free, “King Haven will see it as betrayal. We will be exiled.”

“I'm fine with that. Get me out and I'll make sure no one knows you're involved.”

Anylus sighed heavily. “That won't work.”

“It will.”

“You can't hunt a Demonkin on your own. It's too dangerous.”

“I've hunted far worse, and you know it.”

“You will need help.” Anylus tucked his hands into his sleeves. “That's why I'm going with you.”

Kara's heart pounded and adrenaline kicked in, but the caution she had learned from facing down Cantrall cooled her excitement. What if this was some gambit hatched by King Haven? What if Haven was testing her?

“Why would you go with me?” Kara asked.

“Because I believe you're right. And because you’re one of the most powerful mages I’ve ever trained.”

Kara did not know Anylus well enough to gauge his honesty, but she knew this was not an opportunity she could let pass. If this was one of King Haven's tricks, at least she would know.

“All right.” Kara breathed out. “But we're leaving tonight. We'll have to make sure the guards—”

“They sleep,” Anylus said.

Kara gaped at him. “You were planning to break me out all along, weren't you?”

“I had considered it.” Anylus smiled faintly.

Kara threw her arms around him, hugging his lanky form in a way that was entirely inappropriate for teacher and student. Anylus chuckled and patted her back. She released him and stepped away, face flushed.

“I'm sorry,” Kara said. “I shouldn't have done that, but that's the best news I've had all week.”

“I only wish it had not come to this.”

“No matter. We're decided.” Kara looked past Anylus. “We're heading to Knoll Point. That's where we'll find Trell, if he's alive.” He had to be alive.

Anylus inclined his head. “I pray you're right.”

Kara glanced around her cell, but there was nothing here she needed. “Let's go.”

Anylus opened the door and led her into a dark hall. Two Mynt soldiers had collapsed against each wall, crumpled in leather armor. Fast asleep.

“Here.” Anylus stopped by a travel pack and lifted a thick cloak with a heavy hood. “Put this on.”

Anylus had somehow secured her quarterstaff as well, the one Ona had bought for her. Thoughts of Kara's mother made her strong. She shrugged on the thick gray cloak and pulled the hood tight around her face, a passable disguise. She strapped her quarterstaff across her back.

Kara desperately wanted to contact her mother, but finding Ona during this escape was too risky. They had to leave for Knoll Point now. As for Xander — as for her father — he might still be out there. Looking for her.

Kara was grateful for Anylus's help, but ultimately, she could only depend on herself. This was her mess to clean up, her fight. She would not let the Mavoureen win.

She would save her friends and banish the demons.

JYLLITH AND CALUN REACHED KNOLL POINT just after first light. She kept Calun in the saddle ahead of her. Though he seemed sufficiently cowed, letting her guard down for even a moment could get her killed.

Even if one could not kill a davenger, if one killed the person controlling it the demon would run off. Davengers were stupid like that. All Calun would need was a few seconds to slip a knife into Jyllith's ribs.

Knoll Point stood at the base of a small mountain of gray rock, and that mountain hung over the town like a hammer waiting to drop. The mountain might have been beautiful, once, but quarrying had gutted it from the inside out. Many people — slaves owned by the Mynt, if Calun told her true — had carved the mountain up like a corpse, extracting valuable rock and minerals for their Mynt masters.

  Mynt work crews had come to Talos a few times before it burned, when Jyllith was still little. Those they “hired” had little choice but to go, and few were ever seen again. Jyllith's father had been among those chosen, a big, strong man perfect for whatever fate the Mynt had in mind.

Weldar Malconen never returned, never wrote, and though Yara assured all her daughters their father was still alive, working for a kind master somewhere, they all knew that was a lie.

A wooden palisade six times as tall as Jyllith surrounded Knoll Point, and the mountain looked like it could come down at any moment. She could not imagine anyone living here by choice. Perhaps the slaves who had driven off the Mynt had nowhere else to go.

Someone — probably Andar and his Free Rain — had cleared all trees within a bowshot from the walls. Open field surrounded the town. Jyllith knew guards watched her from the armored towers at its four corners.

Jyllith rode toward the closed southern gate, holding Calun as both shield and deterrent. Hopefully someone recognized him. Hopefully someone in those watch towers would ask her to identify herself before riddling them both with arrows. She could not fail Melyssa.

Even after a week on the road, it still shocked Jyllith how much she missed Melyssa. No one save Cantrall had ever been as decent to her, and Cantrall's decency had been a lie. Manipulations to keep her loyal.

Even after all the horrific things Jyllith had done, Melyssa had still wanted to help her. Melyssa had trusted her, forgiven her. And to thank her for that, Jyllith had driven a dagger through the old woman’s heart.

“Halt!” A loud male voice shouted from the walls.

“I'm here to join up!” Jyllith raised a hand and three fingers, with her thumb and pinky touching.

That was a formation emulating the Three Trunk Tree, a legend dating back to the first Children of the Forest. They believed the tree, a white cedar that brushed the heavens, had three trunks that existed simultaneously atop each other — one in the real world, one in the Underside, and one in the courtyard of the Five. Humans had sprung from seeds in the Five's courtyard.

Many who lived in Rain's treetop villages considered the legend gospel, and though Flatlanders like Jyllith knew it as folklore, her three raised fingers remained a common sign among those taxed and oppressed by the Mynt. She hoped the tower guard could see them clearly.

“What are you doing with Calun?” the man in the watchtower shouted.

They recognized him. Good. “I haven't murdered him, if that's what you're hoping for! Now shall we yell at each other until I go hoarse, or will you open your gates and let me introduce myself?”

No response. Jyllith prodded Calun. “Do you know who's up in that tower?”

“This time of day, I'd think it'd be Yarn. He's old and always up early, one of the original slaves who Andar freed. He always takes first watch.”

“Is he Demonkin?”

“No.” Calun's shoulders hunched. “Listen ... don't say that word in front of Andar, all right? He wouldn't like it. He only knows us as mages friendly to Rain.”

Could Jyllith trust Calun to tell the truth? If Andar did know that Divad was Demonkin, telling him would reveal her treachery and get her killed. If he didn't, Divad could simply deny everything and kill her anyway. Worse, Calun could simply be testing her loyalty.

There was too much she did not know. Until she had better answers, Jyllith would act just like who she claimed to be. A woman loyal to Cantrall and the Mavoureen.

The wooden gates did not open. A smaller postern door within them swung free, however, and a huge man in hunting leathers stepped out. A large scar stretched from his forehead to his chin, and gray streaked his close-cut black hair.

The huge man wore a battered cudgel at his hip, one that had seen heavy use. He was a head larger than Byn Meris and even more muscular. He beckoned her forward with a frown that brooked no argument.

Jyllith urged her horse forward. She still felt her davenger prowling in the trees, and she felt far too comfortable with that
monster
protecting her. The demon inside her whispered often. It grew harder to ignore it.

Cantrall had explained how the Demonkin curse worked in great detail, ensuring Jyllith would know what to expect. When she scribed her first glyph, her soul would be offered to a Mavoureen — the demon chosen dependent on Paymon's whim. That demon would whisper inside her mind, and she had to suppress its voice at all times.

Listening to the voice even once was the first mistake everyone made. After that came learning. The Mavoureen knew what mages craved — knowledge — and offered it freely, deluging their victims with new glyphs. Each lesson accepted progressed the demon's hold on the victim's soul, making them more susceptible to manipulation and control.

Jyllith was doing far better than most. Her demon never spoke because she never let it, and she already knew every glyph she needed. She would retain her faculties long enough to bring down Divad and his cult.

Jyllith put on a tired smile as she rode closer to the fort. She stopped her horse next to the big hunter at the gate and then poked Calun. “Off.”

The boy slipped off her horse and did not run away. She appreciated that. Jyllith slid off and handed the big hunter the reins. He was almost certainly Free Rain.

“You got a name?” Jyllith asked.

“You can call me Klyde, miss.” The big man inclined his head. “Go on in. They're waiting for you.”

Jyllith pulled her hunting knife, slowly. She wrapped her arm around Calun's neck and placed the knife against his ribs. She raised an eyebrow, but Klyde just shrugged. No problems so far.

“With me,” she told Calun. “Together now.” He walked meekly in front of her, going where she guided.

Klyde stepped past her, easily within knife reach, and took her horse's reins. Given he was big enough to snap her like a twig, he likely wasn't all that concerned. Jyllith suspected he was much faster than he looked.

“You gonna' kill that boy?” Klyde led her horse to the wall by the open postern door. He sounded more curious than worried.

“Not if I don't have too.” Jyllith gave Calun a squeeze. “Stay calm and you'll get through this.”

Calun didn't say anything — he just walked — and Jyllith kept her knife pressed to his side and her arm around his neck. She maneuvered Calun through the door and stepped into a semicircle of six standing archers, each with a bow pulled back and a muscled arm quivering. Well then.

A hard-faced man stood among the archers, hands clasped behind his back, and Jyllith suspected
that
was Andar. He had the bearing of a soldier, not a mage, and at this range, those arrows would go right through Calun and into her. If Andar thought Calun was dead anyway, he wouldn't hesitate.

Knoll Point's leader was not a tall man, nor was he particularly muscular, but he held his well-toned body with confidence. Andar kept his hair shaved close to his head and mottled black tattoos covered his face, permanent war paint that allowed him to blend into the forest.

Jyllith knew what type of soldier Andar was now — she had worked with men like him in Free Rain — and her nervousness mounted. Andar was a Ghost Cat, a man who had once been one of Rain's most elite soldiers. They lived off the land for months as they scouted, trapped, and murdered their enemies from the shadows.

Ghost Cats did not fight on the battlefield. They cut the lines restraining enemy horses, set fire to tents, cut the throats of sentries and poisoned enemy wells. They dug pits of spikes sharp enough to impale even armored soldiers, then covered them with leaves and dirt.

Rain's Ghost Cats did not fight fair. They fought to win. Faced with the might of Mynt's glittering legions, they had not managed to do even that — but even with the war long ended, the Ghost Cats kept killing. All Mynt soldiers had orders to execute them on the spot.

“Morning,” Andar said. “I understand you caught something of ours.” He looked amused. “Come to toss him back?”

Like Klyde, Andar wore simple brown hunting leathers and boots. He wore no cloak or jacket and seemed unbothered by the morning's chill, but very few things bothered a Ghost Cat. Some wondered if they were human.

“I've no intent to harm anyone,” Jyllith said calmly. “I just didn't want you to shoot me before we talked.”

“Can't really talk if you accidentally puncture his kidney.”

Jyllith pulled her knife away from Calun's side. “You're right.” She let him go, dropped her knife, and raised her hands. Calun didn't move.

“Go, Calun,” Jyllith said. “Go to your friends.”

He did not move, and Jyllith wondered then if she had made a horrible mistake. Was Calun going to turn around and stab her, avenge his murdered davenger? Had he been pretending to be cowed all along?

“Out of the way, boy,” Andar said.

“What are you going to do to her?” Calun kept himself in between Jyllith and the archers.

Andar raised an eyebrow. “What would you like us to do?”

“Don't hurt her. She's a friend, like me. You should listen to her.”

Calun's concern raised fresh guilt. Why would he protect her after she shredded his face, tortured him? What did Calun have to gain?

Nothing. He had nothing to gain, so perhaps Cantrall had not corrupted Calun as he had corrupted her. Perhaps the fact that they had both lost their families meant something to this boy. Jyllith wondered if she would have to kill Calun, in the end, and how that would make her feel.

“I'll consider it,” Andar said. “Now get out of the thrice-damned way.”

Calun hunched his shoulders and passed meekly through the line of archers. He turned to stare at her, hugging himself. He still wore her cloak.

“That was right decent of you, Red.” Andar hadn't lowered his arm, but he hadn’t told his archers to stand down either.

Jyllith considered her new nickname, found it acceptable, and shrugged. “As I said, I don't want to hurt any of you.” She raised three fingers again. “I'm an ally. I've fought for Free Rain many times in the past.”

“That's a wonderful story.” Andar's tattoos rippled as he scowled. “How much did the Mynt pay you to infiltrate this camp?”

“Don't hurt her!” Calun snatched at Andar's arm but Andar slipped aside and dropped him with a precise shove. Given what a Ghost Cat could do, that was gentle treatment. Calun scrambled away and got up.

“Quiet, kid.” Andar's arm was ready to drop. “The adults are talking.”

Jyllith looked past the archers for anyone else, anyone who might be Divad, the Demonkin leader. Behind her, she heard Klyde enter and close the door. He led her horse, and her horse had something in a small sack.

“What would convince you I'm not bound to Mynt gold?” Jyllith asked.

“You'd probably have to kill one of them for me.” Andar smiled. “Sadly, we did this whole lot years ago.”

Melyssa had been right, but of course she had been right. She was Melyssa Honuron, one of the saviors of the Five Provinces. The strongest woman Jyllith had ever met.

“Then let me offer you an olive branch.” Jyllith gave Klyde a sidelong glance. “Would you be so kind as to bring me that small burlap sack? The one hanging off my horse?”

Klyde glanced at Andar for permission. Andar shrugged and Klyde unwound the thin rope tying the sack to the saddle. He looked up before he opened it. “This thing going to explode?”

Jyllith snorted and shook her head. It was an honest question, she supposed, but was he serious? Klyde opened the bag, looked inside, and closed it again.

“May I have it?” she asked.

Klyde handed her the sack, returned to the palisade wall, and leaned against it. He crossed his arms over his wide chest. His smile was gone.

Jyllith slowly raised the sack. “May I show you what I've brought to prove my loyalty?” She decided using his name was worth the risk. “Andar?”

Andar smiled, a very dangerous smile. The sidelong glance he gave Calun told the boy exactly what he thought about Calun revealing his name. Calun hugged Jyllith's cloak closer.

“Let's see it, Red,” Andar said. “You've got me damned curious.”

Jyllith reached into the sack, gripped the hair inside firmly, and gave what remained attached a good, solid toss. Melyssa Honuron's severed, pitch-soaked head landed and rolled, wobbling left and right. It stopped in the center of the archer circle, mouth gaping.