The Demon's Blade (21 page)

Jerris said nothing in response, but started his now familiar fidgeting. They rode along in silence for the rest of the day, stopping only briefly. The gray, empty miles of the Craglands dragged by. By mid-afternoon, the ridge was left behind, and the road meandered through jagged rocks and fallen boulders, cutting a haphazard path through narrow ravines and sharp rocky hills. On the whole, however, the road was descending gradually, if irregularly, with each passing mile. At times, the road narrowed so that the horses had to pass single file, a somewhat difficult maneuver, tethered together as they were. Darien kept his ears open, but only heard the clicking and clattering of small stones dislodged by the travelers as they bounced around and finally came to rest in some crevice or tumbled down a nearby slope. The great Red Mountains of the north were at their backs. At that moment, Darien had high hopes that they would be able to escape without any difficulty.

As the sun sank low in the west, casting the long shadows of the Silver Mountains out over the Craglands, the elder half-elf got down from his horse, and led his companions off the road to camp. This time, the camping spot was beneath a rocky ledge at the intersection of two flat rock faces. This time there was enough space beneath for all three to stand comfortably. The Craglands provided little scenery, but did provide many ready campsites.

Darien rested, but once again, did not sleep, focusing on the prisoner. He had drawn no closer to solving the mystery of how she had found him, but at least he had an idea of how she had encountered him in the past. She escaped a purge and somehow found me hiding in the northlands, he mused. Either of these facts alone is interesting, but taken together, they raise the prospect that this woman is far more than she appears to be. Her magic is impressive for an apprentice. She appears to be just a few years older than Jerris. She was probably a child, but how would a child escape such a horror? Did she receive help from someone, and might that person still be helping her? No, if she expected anyone to come for her, it would have made more sense for her to stall for time. Ah well, hopefully I can learn more from her later, he sighed to himself.

He leaned against one of the rock faces, drifting on the edge of sleep, shutting his eyes and only opening them once every few minutes. Yet, even in this state, he stayed aware of everything around him. Sometime during the night, Rana began to stir, subtly shifting positions far too often. The wary shade relaxed his breathing as much as he could, and hung his head down and to the side, feigning sleep. Sure enough, the girl began to move, rising to her feet and starting to skulk off away from the camp.

Darien did not stir, nor make any move to stop her. She wouldn’t get far, he reckoned. He had brought all the food to the camp, and made sure that the horses would sleep well, and would only be wakened by a word from him. He wondered for a moment whether it would be wise to follow her, but decided against it. He could confront her about her secret anytime, but a tied, uncooperative prisoner would be a considerable delay. Once she realizes she has no way of rousing a horse, she’ll give up and come back, he reassured himself. On the other hand, if she’s actually foolhardy enough to set off into the Craglands in the late autumn without any supplies, then I’ll just let her go. If that’s the doom she chooses, then I will not stop her.

Sure enough, sometime later, Rana returned and laid down. Darien was sitting up, and looking straight at her, but she was taking such care to mind her steps and make no sound that she failed to notice. “Back already?” he smugly questioned.

Rana jumped at the sound, nearly hitting her head against the rock overhang. “When did you wake up?” Rana asked dejectedly.

“For me to wake up, I would have had to actually go to sleep in the first place.”

“You were awake the entire time, and you just let me walk off without a word?”

“Yes, your point?”

“What if I’d been trying to escape?”

“I assumed you were” The Executioner said flatly. “If you weren’t trying to escape, then what were you doing?” Rana made no response. Her face contorted oddly, obviously searching her mind for some plausible lie. After watching her squirm for a few seconds amusement, her interrogator finally intervened. “Don’t bother trying to come up with anything. You obviously were trying to escape, but when you realized you couldn’t wake any of the horses, you did the sensible thing, gave up, and came back.”

“Oh, Um, well…,” she trailed off, and after a few moments added, “I guess you have it all figured out, don’t you?”

Darien nodded and smiled wryly. “I’m not your enemy, at least not at the moment. Whether you like it or not, I’m not going to kill you and you can’t kill me, nor can you escape in any way that doesn’t end with you starving in this wasteland, so just stop being so obstinate and try to make the best of it. Pride will only get you killed. If you want to live a long life or be a passable warrior, or both, then you’d best lay it aside sooner rather than later.”

“There are things more important than just staying alive. Some things are worth dying for. I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand that.”

“Is your pride really one of those?” Darien cocked his head to the side and sighed. “If you’re willing to tell me how you found me, and convince me that you can evade Avirosa on your own, I’ll give you your horse and your armor and let you go now. Keep in mind it’s not as simple as just heading back to Vorog. Avirosa is nothing like me. From what I remember of him, I can tell you he kills and tortures out of enjoyment, not duty. He is cruel, vindictive, and petty. He could be in the underpass right now, on my trail, and if he met you there, you can rest assured it would end badly for you. You did see the corpse of that beast in the underpass. Well, that’s just one of the lovely things he’s able to command.”

“I saw it. I take it you killed it,” Rana grumbled at her captor, and he nodded quietly. “No, I gave my word. I said I wouldn’t try to escape and I won’t.”

“In that case, stop sneaking around and go to sleep.”

Darien continued to watch as Rana laid down and went back to sleep. He was confident that the woman would not attempt escape again, but was still troubled. Something about her reaction seemed off. The wary shade decided to take a look around, just to be certain she hadn’t laid some kind of trap. He carefully examined the gray stones for any sign of spells or traps, but found none. The horses continued sleeping undisturbed, as expected.

He was about to turn around and go back to camp, when he heard a familiar sound. “I see you’ve made another friend on your journey. Do you think it’s wise to just let her wander about on her own?” It was, of course, the old man Ezra, bent over his gnarled staff, standing just a few yards behind him. As before, Darien had not seen or heard his approach.

“Ezra?” Darien said. “She tried to kill me, so she’s hardly a friend, but something tells me you already knew that.” Ezra smiled his now familiar all knowing smile as Darien continued speaking. “I’m not that worried about her. She’s only an amateur out for revenge. I don’t think she’s got the skill to outwit me or the power to fight me. I let her make her escape attempt without interfering because I thought maybe she’d see I’m not her enemy any longer.”

“I see. That’s interesting,” The old man stroked his wispy beard thoughtfully. “Do you really think that matters? After what she went through, you don’t really believe she’ll forgive you, do you?”

“Of course not, I don’t expect anyone would. I know I wouldn’t.”

“So why bother with this woman?” Ezra asked. “Why not just give her some supplies and send her back to Vorog?”

“There are things you don’t entirely understand, old man,” the Executioner said. “The man that pursues me is more ruthless and vicious than I ever thought to be when I served the Master. Avirosa kills, tortures, and maims simply to amuse himself. He is unlikely to let her go if he catches her, whether she gives him what he wants or not.”

“I see,” the wizened old man rocked back and forth leaning against his staff now, seemingly quite oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. “So killing and maiming are acceptable as long as one doesn’t enjoy them. An interesting concept.”

“That isn’t remotely what I meant and you know it. Do you hear nothing I say? I plainly told you that Avirosa will kill the girl. I am allowing her to accompany me for the same reason I allowed Jerris to accompany me. Didn’t you warn me not to take life needlessly? Is it somehow different if I send her to die by my enemy’s hand rather than kill her myself? You cast the spell on me, so you ought to know, but I have a feeling you won’t give me a straight answer.”

“If you believe it is no different, then it is no different,” the old man said.

“More riddles is it then? Is that all you have to offer?” Darien rubbed his temples in frustration.

“Hmmm. But I thought you enjoyed riddles? It is wise, is it not, to consider all possible meanings of words?”

Darien paused for a moment, having suddenly remembered the conversation with Jerris in the underpass. Did Ezra actually hear that conversation? Can he observe me that closely, and if so, how? I have sensed no magic whatever about him from the first moment I met him, and yet he obviously has some means of observing me from a great distance. If he had placed some enchanted object on me, I would have found it by now. Each time he appears, the riddle deepens. “Yes, I suppose that’s right,” Darien finally answered slowly, then spoke with conviction. “Spell or not, I will not commit to any action that results in her death. She and Jerris did nothing to deserve to be hunted down, tortured, and killed by my enemies. Only my presence has placed them in jeopardy. They are my responsibility, and if they die, it will be because of me. I will not bloody my hands any further than they already are, not while I have the power to prevent it.”

“You are certain of this course then?”

“I am,” Darien said. “If you disapprove, then say so, and explain why, or do not contest me.”

“It is not my place to approve or disapprove,” Ezra coldly remarked. “I am not your master, and do not wish to be. I will, however, offer you counsel as I can.”

“Then I would ask for counsel on another matter. I’ve discovered the elven city may actually exist, and the book Jerris carries actually does contain an ancient prophecy, but I need to find a faerie to translate it.”

“Only this. Be wary of your new companion “Tell me, do you know anything about the faeries?” The old man probably knew nothing, but it was worth asking. Though his primary concern remained with his pursuers and the mysterious woman, he remained curious about the prophecy, and the old man seemed as likely as anyone to know something useful.

The old man scratched his head for a few moments, then replied. “Little more than you, I would guess. They are spirits of the water, seldom seen by the other races. I have heard it said that they are very old, older even than the elves by some accounts. I remember they were once called the keepers of fate, for they could see the invisible threads connecting past, present, and future.” Ezra shifted his weight and furrowed his brow. “I do not know where you might find one. They appear at times and places of their own choosing, and only to those who they wish to.”

“I see. Is that all then?” Darien said, turning away and looking off into the distance.

“I would also remind you that your greatest enemy is the one you carry with you. You must never forget that” Ezra replied. “I will take my leave now. I am sure we will meet again. Farewell.”

Darien watched as Ezra walked off in the general direction of the road. He kept the old man in view for several minutes, until the gray figure disappeared behind a large rock, and was, once again, gone.

Darien stood in the darkness for several minutes, listening to the gentle night wind whistling almost imperceptibly through the twisting rocks. He pondered how Ezra continued to follow him, and how the old man seemed to know everything he was doing. He must have some way of spying on me, the wary shade reasoned. The most common way of tracking in this fashion is with enchanted objects, but what could he have given me that I’ve had since five years ago. I’ve kept nothing but the Demon Sword.

Chapter 18: Towards Thordas

The next morning was uneventful. Little was said as the three travelers ate quietly before getting under way. The young woman’s escape attempt and the most recent visit from the enigmatic old man were mostly forgotten in the light of the morning sun as it rose in the lowlands to the east. Darien had turned his mind to other matters, most notably the road ahead. At least two days ride lay between them and the crossroads at Thordas, then another week west to Galad.

Jerris rode ahead, followed by Rana, while the Executioner followed behind, where he could observe the woman closely. There was little to observe however. Jerris made several fruitless attempts at conversation, but the stubborn woman seemed determined to remain silent. The woman made no further attempt at escape and, in fact, showed no unusual behavior whatsoever. She simply rode along silently, like a statue situated on the back of her white horse. Whatever she was hiding, she hid it well.

At about mid-morning, the road turned slightly westward, and began to wind around the edge of a dry canyon. The grey stone of the high ridges they had ridden on since the underpass gradually softened. Various shades of yellows and browns streaked the canyon walls, a welcome change to eyes weary of the drab gray. They rode along this canyon for the remainder of the day, keeping between the cliff that rose up on their right and the canyon at their left. The weather was fair and cool, and the wind blew from the west. When the sun set, they found an overhanging shelf along the cliff face and camped for the night.

Another morning came, and the trio resumed, reaching the bottom of the canyon in the first couple of hours. The road continued along the canyon bottom for many miles, before finally turning south, and climbing the other side of the canyon. The climb, far steeper than the descent, slowed their progress and taxed their horses.

Sometime in the afternoon, the travelers emerged from the canyon onto an open flatland. Tall scrubby grasses, yellowed, dried, and dormant for the fall, grew in the dry sandy yellow-grey soil, obscuring the road and slowing their progress. The wind now howled out of the north, chilling the travelers to the bone. Darien endured such things easily, but Jerris and Rana did not. Rana, in particular, seemed thoroughly uncomfortable, no doubt owing to her southern nature. She had obviously come a very long way to find him, yet he still had only the vaguest idea from where. If he could remember where he had encountered her before, it might answer some of the many questions he had, but try as he might, he could not recall anything useful. They continued along the high plain for the remainder of the day, with only miles of flat emptiness visible in any direction and the jagged shapes of the Silver Mountains far on the western horizon. The sun started to set, and there was no sign of any cover. As the light began to fade, Jerris voiced his strong preference not to camp in the open with the wind, and Rana vociferously agreed.

So, they rode into the twilight of evening. Darien took the lead, his sharp elf eyes trained to the darkness, while Rana followed, and Jerris brought up the rear. As the last shades of purple sunset faded from the western sky over the Silver Mountains, the wind finally relented, slowing first, then laying still but for an occasional wayward gust. Night descended, and both Lumina, the great moon, and Luna, the lesser, rose to light the darkness of night. The great moon shone its familiar blue white glow, while the lesser shone a pale yellow, her light dimmed considerably by her larger sister. Both moons rose full that night, a rare occurrence. Tradition held it a bad omen for travelers, but Darien gave no heed to such superstition.

After the long day’s ride, the horses were tiring, so the travelers elected to walk rather than ride to give their mounts some needed rest. They walked for several hours into the night, until they finally came upon an old stone building. It was a squat stone structure, simple and square. It must once have been an outpost for soldiers patrolling the road from Vorog, a simple roof and beds for tired feet. Now it was only a ruin, having only three walls intact and a partially collapsed roof. Whatever furniture it had contained had long ago turned to dust. Still, any shelter was a welcome sight. The three travelers tied the horses, stepped inside through the missing eastern wall, and made camp.

“So, how far have we come?” Jerris asked of Darien as they sat down to eat the food they had drawn from the supplies.

“Difficult to say. I don’t know these lands well, and I’ve never been on this road,” Darien answered, leaning back against the sturdiest looking of the walls. “I guessed that it would take us three or four days from the south door of the underpass to the crossroads, but I can’t be certain. The road has taken a more indirect route than I expected.”

“That’s not very comforting,” Rana said. She was already laying out her bedroll. “I thought you knew what you were doing?”

“You finally speak and that’s all you have to say?” Jerris shook his head at the woman. “Do you know where we are? Have you traveled here before?” The woman mumbled something and turned away. “Then don’t complain if you have nothing useful to add”

“Leave her alone Jerris. There’s no point in debating the matter. We’re continuing on the road until we get to the crossroads, and that’s that, I would imagine this structure is evidence we’re nearing the ruins of Thordas, and I expect we’ll strike the crossroads tomorrow.”

They ate their meal, and were beginning to settle down for the night, when, quite unexpectedly, Darien perceived a slight trembling in the earth. The shaking built for a few seconds, then dissipated. A sprinkling of dust fell from the ceiling of the ruin that sheltered them.

“Did you feel that?” Jerris asked.

“Yes, probably an avalanche in the mountains back north, or maybe a rockslide closer to us,” Darien said dismissively and waved his hand. Rana said nothing, acting as if she had neither felt the shaking nor heard Jerris’ question. She ignored them, laid down, and fell quickly asleep.

Jerris sat against one of the moss covered walls, seemingly unready for sleep. Darien now began to feel the effects of going three days without sleep. Though his endurance was far greater than most, he had limits, and on this evening, he began to feel them. He gathered the supplies near where he would lie down, as he was still concerned that even without a horse, Rana might take what she could and run. Just as he was about to lie down, Jerris spoke up.

“Darien, could I speak with you a moment?” Jerris asked nervously, peeking over at Rana. “I wanted to wait until she was asleep.”

“What is it that’s bothering you now? It’s very late.”

Jerris looked over to the sleeping Rana, just to be sure she was sleeping, swallowed hard, and then spoke. “I’ve been wondering about the sword. Are there really demons in that sword? Do you hear them?”

Darien immediately stared over at Jerris, unsure why the lad would ask such a question, and trying to decide whether to answer. The young half-elf looked away, turning to the far wall, afraid he had taken a step too far.

“No, not right now. As I told you before, I met a man who knew about the sword. He cast some kind of spell, something far beyond my skill or even understanding that protects me from them. Before that, yes, I could hear them. Not words, at least not in any language I had ever heard, but terrifying and disturbing all the same.” Darien shuddered. A chill ran down his back as he recalled the strange sensation he had felt that day, the sensation that he was no longer alone in his own mind.

“What are they, exactly?” Jerris asked nervously, drumming his fingers against the ground.

“You mean demons?” the Executioner asked, to which Jerris nodded slowly. "Ah, why so curious about that? I don’t know much I’m afraid. The master told me they were ancient beings, older than Terrallien itself, drawn here by the power of the elves. They disappeared from the world a long time ago, for reasons not entirely clear, and there is little now to prove they ever existed. Only legends, and the few magical artifacts like the Demon Sword that remain from that age.”

“I just thought um… since you had the sword… you might have some idea…,” the lad stammered out.

Darien stared at the boy somewhat crossly, failing to understand why the lad was so preoccupied with the subject. “I suppose I can tell you what little I know. Most of it I learned from Tobin, actually. Legends name them the formless ones. It was said they had no substance of their own, and had to possess the bodies of men and elves to persist in this world. It’s thought that they brought the lesser races, goblins, orcs, and the like, to this realm for that purpose. Stupid, dull witted creatures that could not resist them. No one knows where the demons came from or why, only that they came from somewhere far away. What is truly frightening, though, is their power. It’s said they could break the ordinary rules of magic, and make the impossible possible. They could do more than just subtly change the world around them as mages do. They could conjure solid objects out of thin air, or blast solid rocks to ash, or turn rivers to sand. I’ve felt that power myself. The sword grants that kind of power.” Darien paused, hoping that would satisfy the lad, but the boy seemed uneasy still, grappling with himself to find the words for something he couldn’t quite express. “Honestly Jerris, what’s this about? Why so curious about demons all of a sudden?”

“I just, you said the sword’s power turned Varias into the Demon King. I just wondered…," The lad breathed deeply and collected himself. "It isn't going to do that to you? The sword I mean…"

So that’s what the boy was so preoccupied with, the tired mage finally realized. He sighed deeply, and shook his head. The boy won’t like this answer, but it’s the only one I can give. "I honestly don't know, the demons might drive me mad, and then it would be necessary for someone to kill me. If they don't, I may simply live and die quite normally. Then again, the sword may not allow the one who holds it to die." He stopped to look over at his young companion. The boy was sullen, looking down at his fidgeting hands. "Jerris, try not to worry yourself over my situation. I've earned the doom that lies upon me. Besides, there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it, so there's no point in worrying." Jerris turned away and muttered something unintelligible, but spoke no further. Darien thought to say something more for a moment, but then changed his mind. After all, what could be said? Since the lad had lost his mother, he had naturally attached to the only person convenient. It would have been better if that had not been so, but nothing could be done about it now.

The two half-elves spoke no more, and laid down for the abbreviated evening. Darien slept lightly, but slept, at last.