Dragon's Tongue (The Demon Bound) (43 page)

Still, he could not shake some unease as he perched at the head of the bed and waited for the dawn. He wondered if the four mageborn would sense it as well.

FORTY FIVE

Stepping through Gareth’s spell gate felt just like dream walking through his own mind to Alaric. One moment, they all stood in the center of Maelwyn’s courtyard looking at stone walls, and the next, they were standing in a snowy pasture high in some mountain range where the air bit cold on Alaric’s cheeks. He shivered and tightened his bearskin about him. Fenelon had said something about casting warming spells once they were away from the gate. Alaric hoped that would be soon.

The view before them was two mountains rising just past a valley where everything looked dark and sinister under a thick mist. Greenery cloaked the lower elevations, but this valley was buried beneath a heavy coating of winter that felt horribly unnatural to Alaric.

Magic.
Something ancient and powerful.
It was everywhere. In the soil beneath his feet. The mist that hung like dusty drapes and smelled slightly of sulfur carried a taint of power.

The view was as familiar to him as his own face in a mirror.
But how?
he thought and shivered again. The demon’s owl form seemed unaffected in spite of the clip of the wind that threatened to knock the beast from Alaric’s shoulder.

“My, my,” Fenelon said.

“I have heard tales of such a place where winter is forever,” Etienne said.

“Long Winter,” Alaric muttered.

Alaric found Etienne staring at him. “That is an old Haxon story,” she said. “How is it that you know of it…”

Alaric shrugged. He felt Ronan chuckle. “I guess it’s one of the things Ronan told me before he blocked my memories with that wall,” Alaric said.

“Good old Ronan,” Fenelon said. “Some of the tales of the Old Ones also mention a long winter that is connected to the Great Cataclysm.”

“This is all very interesting,” Shona said, “but could we possibly discuss it someplace less windy? My ears are starting to ache.”

“Looks like there’s a stone hut down there,” Fenelon said. He pointed towards a lower section of the pasture.

“I know that place,” Alaric said as the image of sitting inside it drinking a warm brew and stretching his hands towards a fire flashed into his mind. Horns, he didn’t like feeling so helpless in his own mind.
You’re not helpless
, he scolded himself.
Remember what Gareth told you
…

Ronan chuckled again.

“Figures,” Fenelon said. “Let’s go. It would be nice to be warm while scrying this place a bit.”

Everyone agreed. The hut sat downhill from the pasture, carefully picking their way across the white wintry blanket. Fenelon took the lead, one hand resting on his sword, the other free for spell casting. Alaric sensed when Fenelon stretched mage senses to scry the hut. Fenelon frowned.

“Someone had been here recently,” he muttered.

“Tane,” Vagner whispered, and the demon shivered.

Alaric glanced at the demon. “Is he here now?” he asked.

“Hard to say,” the demon said. “The air here is confusing…”

Confusing was putting it mildly. Something wholly unnatural was hidden in that valley. Distorted by the mist, it burned Alaric’s mind. A slow distrust of what his eyes perceived rose in him. Was the mist really there? Or the hut? Or his friends…

Fenelon reached the door first. He put a hand against the wood then shoved it open, drawing the sword and shouting, “
Loisg
!” Fire flared around his blade, and he thrust himself through the opening like an avenger. Etienne and Shona both readied themselves with staffs firmly in hand, and Alaric put a half-hearted hand to his own hilt.

But Fenelon’s stiff back relaxed, and he drew himself up straight.

“It’s empty,” he said, turning to look out, “but it has been recently occupied.”

Eitenne and Shona were already through the door by the time Alaric arrived. A putrid stench hit his nose. “What…”

He heard Fenelon swear and Shona suddenly rushed for the door, a hand to her mouth, pushing Alaric aside in her flight. Etienne tried to block his way as she reached for Shona, but Alaric pressed past her and entered the hut. He stopped at Fenelon’s side, suddenly regretting the haste.

A corpse lay pinned to the floor with ropes and stakes. It was difficult to determine gender at a glance, and took Alaric a moment to realize it had actually been a man. Very little of the skin remained. Most of it had been pried back to reveal muscle, arteries and bone. The eyes were gone as well.

Around the body were marks drawn in blood. Fenelon frowned, sheathing his sword and stepped closer.

“Careful,” Etienne said. “It could be laden with wards. Alaric, please step away from that dreadful sight.”

Alaric needed no more bidding. He pushed himself away, spinning on heels like a drunken man and staggering for the open door. The demon owl on his shoulder was dislodged, making for the rafters. Outside, Alaric stopped and leaned against the wall, too aware of bile stinging his throat. Shona crouched near a drift now, pulling off a gauntlet and wiping the back of a hand across her mouth.

“I’ve never seen anything so awful in my life,” she whispered.

Alaric nodded, squatting beside her. “Are you all right?” he asked, knowing his own face was probably just as pale as hers at this moment.

Shona looked shyly at him and nodded. Her nose was running, and Alaric fought the urge to wipe it for her. “I don’t usually get ill, but…”

“Don’t worry,” Alaric said. “I may still get ill myself…”

Fenelon cursed again, the shouted, “Alaric, get this demon away!”

Alaric pushed back to his feet and slipped inside. Vagner had flown down and perched atop the chest of the corpse…

“Vagner! What are you doing?” Alaric said.

“You would have me waste this when I am famished?” the demon said.

“I thought owls were not carrion eaters,” Alaric said with a frown.

“A starving demon has no choice,” Vagner said. “Now give me my form and let me feast…”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Fenelon said with a sharp glance at Alaric. “At least not before I have a chance to scry all this…”

“This is Tane’s work,” the demon said. “What more do you need to know.”

“The manner of the spell. Its purpose…”

“Divination,” Vagner said plainly. “Why do you think he took the eyes? He devoured them as part of the spell. I’ve seen him do this before. This way, he absorbs what they saw, or so he claims.”

“Oh, Horns,” Alaric said, and his stomach churned bitterly with the thought of Tane committing such an act.

“Let me do this my way,” Fenelon said.

The owl sighed and looked at Alaric. “Well?” Vagner said.

“Come on,” Alaric insisted and held forth his arm. He wanted to get back outside before he started to retch.

The demon reluctantly deserted the corpse. Fenelon knelt at its side, and Alaric gladly returned outdoors where Etienne was casting a warming spell about Shona and the ground. Alaric willingly stepped into the warmth to join the women and wait.

“Unfair,” Vagner muttered and puffing his feathers, he hopped from Alaric’s shoulder to the ground. “You are as bad as Tane, forcing me to wear this ghastly shape and not letting me feed…”

“And what would Tane do to you for such a remark?” Alaric asked, glaring at the demon. “Or do you enjoy the thought of Fenelon toasting you with lightning?”

“Point taken,” Vagner said and hopping along, he flapped his great wings and took to the air. “In which case, I’m going rabbit hunting.”

“I’d ask you to bring us one, but I’m not certain it would be sanitary,” Etienne said drolly as she settled on conjuring a more comfortable space. She used her magic with care, weaving elemental essence of air and earth. Within moment, the snow parted and the ground had sprouted chairs and a table, and the air had hardened into walls to keep the wind away. “Much better,” she said and reached into her pack to draw out the supplies necessary to make a pot of tea.

Such practical uses of magic
, Alaric mused. He gladly accepted the hot steaming mug she held out for him and relished the warmth sliding down his throat and washing away the bile.

Eventually, Fenelon came out of the hut to join them. He dropped into one of the conjured chairs as though it had been there all along, and accepted the mug of warm tea Etienne pushed his way.

“He failed,” Fenelon said.

“Are you certain?” Etienne asked.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Fenelon said with a nod. “Part of the mutilation was performed in anger. No concentration. The spell told him nothing.”

“So where is he?”

To that, Fenelon shrugged. “Down there in the valley, like as not,” he said. “Can’t seem to scry into that. It’s not a void, but it’s not penetrable either. Probably the reason his spell failed. Nothing can see into that mist…”

“I can.”
 
The gleeful voice startled all as a rabbit plunged from the sky and landed in the middle of the table. “Your coney, my lady,” Vagner added as he swooped down to perch. “Now, little master, if you will give me my form, I shall gladly clean up the remains in the hut.”

Alaric hesitated, glancing at Fenelon.

“Might as well,” Fenelon said with a nod. “It told me all it could, and if we actually plan to sleep in that hut tonight, we might as well have it clean…”

“But what about the dignity of the dead?” Shona said, looking a little disturbed.

“Better to be devoured than left to rot in ignominy,” the demon said.

Shona cast him a surly look and shook her head.

Alaric sighed. He looked at the demon, “By your True Name, be as you were,” he said.

Vagner whooped and launched himself into a backwards somersault from the end of the table that landed him on clawed feet where he shimmered and stretched and rose to tower above the small party, stretching those chiropteran wings. Shona gasped.

“I forgot how large he was,” she said.

“In my world, size does matter,” Vagner said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Not yet,” Fenelon said. “Alaric, hold him here.”

“Why?” Alaric and Vagner chorused.

“Because, he said he could see into the mist,” Fenelon said. “And before he feeds, I want to know where Tane is…”

“I am considerably more cooperative on a full stomach,” Vagner said darkly.

Fenelon glared.

“What does it matter if he eats first,” Etienne said. “I’d just as soon he did get rid of that body so the stench will leave.”

“I agree,” Alaric said.

“And I,” Shona said. “Dignity withstanding, the stink is terrible even out here.”

Fenelon frowned. “Overruled, am I?” he said. “Very well.”

Alaric motioned the demon towards the hut. “Go on, Vagner,” he said. “Fill your belly.”

“With pleasure,” the demon said and disappeared into the hut.

Within moments, the air was filled with the sounds of him gorging. Looks were traded across the table. Alaric shook his head. Then Etienne lifted the dead coney by one leg.

“Does anyone remember how to skin one of these?” she asked.

“I’ll do it,” Shona said in such a practical manner no one argued with her.