Demonkin (19 page)

Calun gasped and gagged. Andar eyed the head and raised an eyebrow at her. “Should I know who that is?”

“Melyssa Honuron.” Jyllith forced a smile that made her sick inside. “Mynt's most decorated Bloodmender.”

“Andar,” a quiet voice called. “Put your archers at ease.”

Andar scowled, glanced over his shoulder, and snapped his fingers. All six archers lowered their bows and carefully unstrung the black-feathered arrows. More than one looked grateful to finally relax.

A man appeared, clad in red robes that had once belonged to an elder. Stolen robes. This man must be Divad.

Jyllith suspected now that Divad had watched the whole confrontation, concealed by an impressively powerful astral glyph. Had she bothered to take the dream world she would have seen him at once, but she had been too focused on Andar. She could not afford mistakes like that.

“How did you come by Melyssa's head?” Divad asked.

All Jyllith could see beneath his hood was a square, bearded chin. His robes fit his frame well, and like Andar, he looked healthy, but not overly muscular. A man like any other save for his cursed soul.

Now that there were no longer a half-dozen arrows pointed at her, Jyllith needed to take back some control. She glanced at Klyde and motioned to the unoccupied space on the palisade wall at his side. He offered a nod.

She leaned against the wall beside Klyde and crossed her arms. Andar and his Free Rain soldiers knew nothing of recent events at Terras, but Divad might. How much had the Mavoureen told him?

If Divad had brought the Mavoureen through a portal, they might have spoken about the final battle at Terras. They might have told Divad she was there, possessed by the spirit of Breath. How to explain all that away?

“Melyssa took me hostage.” Jyllith settled on a shaded truth. “She tortured me in hopes I would reveal my allies, men allied with Free Rain.” Jyllith's true memories
had
tortured her, after all, the knowledge of all the evil she had done to people who had not deserved it.

“Did you tell her what she wanted?” Divad asked.

“No.” Jyllith remembered Sera's brutal glyphs tearing her apart, ripping her bones open. “That's why I died. Then she brought me back and tortured me again.” She paused to shape her lie. “I don't remember much ... not until I killed her and escaped. That was a week ago.”

Claiming ignorance was the safest route. If Divad challenged her about fighting alongside Kara and her allies as a champion of the Five — if he even knew she had done that — Jyllith could claim she remembered none of it.

“My eggs are getting cold,” Andar asked. “They're really good eggs. We killing this woman or not?”

“You’ll have your breakfast soon enough, old friend.” Divad picked up Melyssa's pitch-soaked head and shoved a finger into the bottom of its severed neck. “If you have the stomach for it.”

The sound of Divad’s fingers inside Melyssa’s neck made several men turn green, but not Jyllith. She had heard and done much worse. Divad's finger emerged covered with dried blood.

He kept that clotted blood on one finger as he cut the other and scribed a bloody glyph. Aether sucked the dried blood away.

There was a green flash and a life-sized echo of Melyssa appeared between Jyllith and Divad. Next an echo of Jyllith appeared, tear-stained face hard. Teeth bared, Jyllith drove her knife into Melyssa's ribs.

Melyssa fell and the image faded like smoke. The archers surrounding her looked spooked, but Andar merely looked annoyed.

“That's how this woman died?” He really wanted those eggs.

Divad set down Melyssa's head and tucked his hands into his robe. “Murdered by this brave young woman. Our new arrival is no Mynt spy.”

Time to build on the lie they had all just seen. “Melyssa thought she could alter my memories and turn me against my people.” That was rich, given what Cantrall had done to her. “She was a fool and she died bloody.”

Andar shook out his arms and rolled his head around. “One less Mynt to keep us down. That was a clean kill.”

“It hasn't been the only one.”

Andar rewarded her with a smirk. This man understood subterfuge, misdirection, and treachery because that was how a Ghost Cat survived one against thirty, on a battlefield where his only allies were trees. The leader of Knoll Point had accepted her ... for the moment.

Divad turned his robed hood to Andar. “I'd like to talk with her. Learn about her travels and discover the ways she may help us.”

“That begs a question.” Andar glanced at her, then at Divad. “How did she find us?”

Jyllith stared at Divad and tapped the side of her head. Her meaning was obvious, but only to him. Her demon had directed her here.

“I'll certainly find that out,” Divad said. “In the meantime, Jyllith Malconen, I welcome you to Knoll Point. We have long been without a trained Bloodmender.”

Divad knew her name. Of course he knew her name. She would have known his as well, if Cantrall had ever spoken of him. It seemed Cantrall had hidden his cult from her, but not hidden her from his cult. Unfair.

Yet she had infiltrated the enemy camp. Without Melyssa's sacrifice, Jyllith suspected she would now be filled with arrows. Melyssa had saved her life again, and now Jyllith had to ensure that sacrifice meant something.

She had to gain Divad's trust and then murder him.

JYLLITH FOLLOWED DIVAD. Cowl hiding his face, Divad led her through a town of well-made cabins, one or two stories high. All had walls of wood-sealed wax and glass windows insulated against winter's chill.

Rain's carpenters were the best in the Five Provinces, but these cabins had likely been built for the Mynt who ran the quarry, not their slaves. It was fitting these builders now had their cabins back. Their hands, their work.

Jyllith saw no clutter in the streets and alleys, and every cabin porch looked well-kept. She wondered how many who lived here were former slaves and how many had come after, leaderless soldiers like Andar and Klyde. Escaped slaves from other work camps.

Why had the Mynt not retaken this town? Jyllith reasoned it out. Knoll Point was high in the hills, and its modest quarry was obviously spent. What would Mynt gain by sending tax collectors this far south? They could wring much more gold and blood from closer towns.

Jyllith measured her old fury. The Mynt might not burn villages, as most in Rain believed, but they stamped out resistance. Arrests remained common and executions not as uncommon as they should be.

Many had perfectly legitimate reasons to despise the Mynt, so was that the true legacy of Cantrall's lies? Ensuring a generation of Rain and Mynt grew up at each other's throats? Did the people Jyllith murdered have parents or children who hated her as she hated the Mynt?

Divad led her into a large cabin. The bunks inside were not military — that was obvious from their rumpled sheets — so Jyllith suspected this was where the members of Divad's cult slept, like a Solyr dorm. The floor was cluttered with scrolls and half-burned candles.

How many lived here? There was Calun, of course, but he had mentioned others. Xel. Rala. How many more? How many more people must she murder before she died?

Divad closed the door and slid a heavy brace into place. Trapping her inside? She considered going after Divad while his back was turned, but demurred. There was still too much she did not know.

“Easy, Spike.” Divad stared at someone or some
thing
behind her. Jyllith felt eyes on her back.

She turned slow. A davenger with one missing eye crouched at stairs leading to a second floor. This was an ape demon, and Jyllith was very glad she had not attempted to overpower Divad. That demon could tear her arms off in less time than it took to breathe.

“Why do you name them?” Jyllith asked. “They're tools.” Like Calun and his precious Torch.

“Even tools deserve names.” Divad walked to his davenger and the demon lowered its head. “Spike has been with me since the beginning.” He scratched it like he would a loyal dog. “He lost his eye in a challenge two years ago, when an old friend decided we weren’t friends any longer.”

That set Jyllith's heart racing. Divad had made this davenger years ago, but no Mavoureen possessed him. That meant Divad had used the cure for the Demonkin curse, traded some innocent soul for his own.

How many here had done the same? How many innocent souls had these monstrous people sent to torture in the Underside? Was their “cure” permanent, or did it only last until they scribed their next demon glyph?

“We'll have time enough to talk at supper,” Divad said. “Rest. You've had a long trek.”

“I ate before we arrived,” Jyllith lied, “and I got more than enough sleep. So tell me. How can I help you?”

Divad pulled back his cowl, revealing a bushy black beard and tangled gray hair. His narrow brown eyes looked her over, not a lecherous gaze — more like examining a new horse. Jyllith refused to look away.

“Help me?” Divad said. A white scar stretched from his left eyebrow, past his nose, and through both lips. “What leads you to believe I need your help for anything?”

“I didn't wander here on accident.” Jyllith shaded the truth in case Divad, like her, could pick out lies. “I came because someone told me I'm needed here.”

“Someone?”

Jyllith tapped the side of her head. “Why am I here? What did Cantrall order you to do and how can I help you do it? I've been running from the Mynt long enough.”

She knew Divad's plan, already, of course — Cantrall's spirit had revealed all it could — but getting Divad to admit he had opened a portal to the Underside would be the first step in building trust between them. Opening a portal was something the Terras elders struggled with for years.

“I have letters to write and reports to fake,” Divad said. “The Mynt still believe this outpost to be loyal, and our shipments and my letters ensure that stays the case. I will be occupied for some time.”

“That's not an answer.”

“There is a washbasin in the room to the east. I ordered Rala to bring clean water.”

Jyllith grimaced, but Divad had a point. She remained filthy from the road and probably smelled worse than a slathered horse. Pressing Divad on his plan now was dangerous, and Jyllith had to admit the thought of a bath was appealing. It gave her time to plot.

“Fine. Find me when you're done with your chores. Just don't mistake my intent. I'm here to hurt the Mynt. If that's not your plan, I'll find allies elsewhere.”

Divad smiled, a tired smile on a tired man. “One day,” he said, “you may not be so eager for blood.” He started up the stairs. “We'll talk soon.”

Spike lumbered after him, a davenger docile as a family dog, and that made Jyllith shudder. Perhaps docility came with time and training. Had Divad really seen his wife and child murdered, as Calun claimed?

A door clicked open in the east wall. A short, buxom woman who could not be much older than Jyllith emerged from a shallow but serviceable wash room. This must be Rala.

Rala had dirty-blond hair, a thick nose, plump lips, and ample curves. She evaluated Jyllith and smirked. “How ... wonderful to have another woman around. We'll be such marvelous friends.”

Jyllith refused to take the bait. “I'm sure.”

“I drew you a bath. Clean robes and a towel wait as well.” Rala strolled past Jyllith and wrinkled her nose. “Take all the time you need.
Please
.”

Jyllith walked inside and closed the washroom door. Steam rose from a large iron tub. Jyllith doubted Rala was happy to be drawing her a bath, so should she have been friendly instead? What would a real spy do?

She breathed in the smell of clean, warm water and decided she no longer cared. Not for the next few moments. For the next few moments she would forget about her mission, the demon in her head, and the people she had murdered. She would not think.

She stripped, tossed her hunting leathers on the floor, and slipped into the tub. It was warm heaven, and feeling such luxurious comfort dredged up all her old guilt. When she opened her eyes and saw the once clear water clouded, she realized just how dirty she had been.

Jyllith slid all but her face into warmth and let her dirty red hair float free. She closed her eyes and breathed ... just breathed. How was she going to stop Divad, stop his cult, stop the Mavoureen? How could she do that when she remained hopelessly, utterly alone?

Their faces came unbidden. Marel's, stained with blood as she bolted the door. Yara's wet eyes as she pushed Jyllith into the cupboard. Jyllith remembered her father hugging her when she was little, remembered playing with Nat and Lehma in the small yard behind their home. An all too familiar lump rose in her throat, the only friend she still had.

Jyllith held that lump, embraced it, refusing to weep or release anything. She deserved the pain she felt now. She deserved that and far more. She should have died with her family. If she had just died in Talos, crushed by revenants, she wouldn't be the monster she was now.

Finally, after a long soak filled with memories of her dead family, she sat up in the now lukewarm water. She scrubbed the road from her body until her skin felt raw, did the same with her hair, and stepped from the iron basin into the chill mountain air.

Jyllith stood for a moment as the chill claimed her, stood until her teeth chattered, and only then did she grab the wool towel. It scratched worse than the soap.

She donned the frayed gray slip Rala had left, added a heavy brown robe over that, and pulled on her worn leather boots. Her hunting leathers had seen her through years on the road and they were comfortable, but she had forgotten what it felt like to be and smell
clean
. So different.

She emerged from the washroom to an empty cabin. If Divad had departed, could she sneak into his study? Jyllith took the dream world and found Spike crouching in the hall on the second floor. Of course it would guard Divad's study. The demon couldn't be seen in town.

Voices grew audible outside the cabin and Jyllith focused her dream world sight. Three orange dream forms walked beyond the cabin wall, two tall and one short and curvy. Rala and two others. Jyllith dropped the dream world as one of the men opened the cabin door. A tall man she did not recognize walked inside, followed by Rala and Calun.

Calun's face lit up. “Jyllith!” He actually looked happy to see her. “Feeling better?”

“Well enough.” Jyllith pretended she hadn't been watching them through the wall. “Where's Divad?”

The man she didn't know moved past a scowling Rala and offered his hand. He was rake thin and probably a few years older than her, but moved with a confidence that was rather alluring. Jyllith didn't trust that at all.

“I'm Xel.” The man took her hand and bent at the waist to kiss it. “A true pleasure, Miss Malconen.” His elegant bow reminded her of Malkavet.

Jyllith snatched her hand away. “That's not necessary.” She resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her robe.

If Calun told her true, Xel was the man who had sent a child's soul to Hecata in exchange for his defiler. He stared at her like a cat, hungry and eager. Rala harrumphed, loudly, but Xel ignored her.

“Elder Divad will be occupied for a bit longer.” Xel offered his arm. “It would be my honor to show you around our fine little town.”

Rala stared daggers and Jyllith only then realized why. Rala and Xel were the only cultists of age in this village, and Rala had claimed Xel as her own. Jyllith was a woman, too. Rala felt
threatened
.

Jyllith almost laughed. She had been alone so long that the notion of any sort of romance seemed ridiculous. Rala was as stupid as she was petty.

Jyllith debated taking Xel's arm — letting him lead her around town could be a good opportunity to gather information — but the thought of being alone with this child murderer made her skin crawl. When it came time to end this cult for good, she would murder Xel first.

“Calun,” Jyllith said. “Where do the soldiers train and spar?” There was honesty in a soldier's work.

“Um...” Calun glanced at Rala. “The eastern gate?”

Rala harrumphed. “Off to play in the mud? Shall I draw another bath?”

“It was nice to meet you both.” Jyllith walked for the door.

Rala blocked her path. “You're not going anywhere, Malconen. Not yet. I've got questions.”

Jyllith ground her teeth. “Yes?”

“Don't think because Divad accepted you so easily the rest of us will.” Mala jammed two fingertips against Jyllith's breastbone. “We don't know you. For all I know, you're here to betray us to—”

Jyllith snatched Rala's fingers and twisted, sending Rala to her knees. She towered over Rala as the woman stared and gasped. She could not risk even a whisper of betrayal, not now.

“I'll say this once, you pampered sow.” Jyllith twisted Rala's fingers further, forcing her eyes wide. “I don't know what kind of life you've lived while I was out there fighting your war for you, but if you question my loyalty again, I'll break you in half.”

Every time Rala struggled to rise Jyllith twisted fingers and drove her to her knees. She pushed so hard Rala gasped. Wet welled in her eyes.

“You're here to protect Knoll Point,” Jyllith said, “aid Free Rain, and serve your elder.” She wondered if she should break Rala's fingers. “Not moon over boys.” She twisted and Rala cried out. “Do you understand me?

Jyllith checked the others in her peripheral vision. Calun stared, slack-jawed, and Xel just smirked. He liked watching this, liked watching Jyllith hurt his girlfriend. She was giving them a show.

“Do you?” Jyllith demanded.

“Yes,” Rala whispered. “Please, I'm ... I'm sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Jyllith dropped Rala's mangled fingers and strode out of the cabin. “Thank you for the bath. Don't
ever
touch me again.”

She slammed the door and strode off, but she only made it down one house before she darted between them, out of sight. Jyllith trembled, hugging herself tight. She felt so cold now, so monstrous. More demon than the thing scratching around inside her head.

Every time she gave herself to her old rage, she saw the faces of her many victims. They hated her and she deserved their hate. She had thrown innocent people into eternal torture, and she could never forgive herself.

Jyllith allowed herself twenty breaths of shaking and pain until she made her face hard and strode from the buildings, east. Had hurting Rala like that ruined her last chance to gain this cult's trust? Would smiling and making friends work better?