by D A Godwin
Tormjere could barely remember what relaxing felt like, but he forced a smile to his face. “Scared everything away, have you?”
“One good look at us was all it took,” Samuel declared, puffing out his chest with mock bravado.
Diran snickered as he turned the meat. “Because he’s the only one uglier than the goblins.”
“They ran away howling the first time they saw him,” Jax confirmed solemnly.
Their comments earned them black looks from Samuel, though Tormjere had to admit that the man’s rough face was not one to make the ladies swoon.
“Best we can figure,” Birion interjected, “is that between the goblins and rockhurlers, there’s little reason for anything else to be here. Add in a well-trained contingent such as our own, and anything thinking to make this their home never stood a chance once we arrived.”
No one would ever accuse Birion of bragging, but the others swelled in pride at the implied compliment.
Diran began cutting slices of meat and distributing them. When he came to Tormjere, he opened his mouth to say something, then closed it just as quickly.
Samuel noticed and elbowed him a few times, and after a mumbled argument finally egged him on enough to speak.
“So, what’s it like?” Diran asked Tormjere.
“What’s what like?”
“Where the demons live. You went there, didn’t you?”
Tormjere eyed Birion, but the knight gave a small shrug as if to say he had not been the one to tell them. He considered any number of answers but settled for the simplest. “I did, unfortunately.”
“And? What’s it like?”
“Miserable.”
“Fair enough,” Diran said when he failed to elaborate. “All of us took the field against the demons at Tiridon, so we know they aren’t the best company. What do they do when they aren’t here trying to kill us?”
“Do they have farms and forests?” Samuel asked, jumping in.
“Not in the manner we’re accustomed to,” Tormjere said, though his stomach rumbled longingly at the thought of one of their ‘farms.’ He felt Shalindra’s attention shift back to him, just as curious as the men around him.
“Cities then?” Diran guessed.
Tormjere shook his head. “It’s mostly like packs of wolves running around, fighting each other.”
“Makes some sense,” Birion said between mouthfuls, “but if there aren’t farms or merchants, what did you eat? Were there pigs?”
Tormjere just shook his head.
“Cattle?” Jax asked.
“Cheese?” Diran chimed in.
Samuel answered for him. “Can’t make cheese without milk.”
“There could be goats,” Diran said defensively.
“Mutton?” Samuel asked, getting into it.
Tormjere answered each with a shake of the head.
“Maybe they eat grass, like a horse.”
Tormjere ran a hand over his face. “There isn’t any grass either, just sand and rock.”
Birion threw up his hands. “Gods, man, don’t make them guess all night. What do demons eat?”
The answer was both complex and nuanced in ways that his present audience would never understand. “Each other.”
That put a damper on the growing merriment, and the group settled into an uneasy silence.
Is that what drives this unnatural hunger inside you?
I had to eat something, and you get used to it eventually.
“Well, that tears it,” Birion said in mock dismay as he tossed a bag towards Tormjere. “You’ll be wanting all the cakes then.”
The group erupted in laughter. Tormjere withdrew a piece of the sweetbread, nodding his thanks to Birion before taking a bite. It did taste good, but it did nothing to help.
* * *
Tormjere stopped at the ridge. Something felt… odd in the narrow valley in front of him, like an unpleasant smell on the wind. The horse’s impatience made it difficult to get a good sense of it, so he dismounted and tossed the reins to Birion. He let his senses extend through the woods, enjoying the texture and grain of the forest, even as he sought what was wrong with it.
How are you doing that?
I don’t know. I just can.
That feels… incredible. It is little wonder why you love the woods so much.
But there’s something that doesn’t belong.
Show me.
He guided Shalindra’s mind towards what could only be described as a lingering odor, or perhaps a sour aftertaste on the forest.
“What is it?” Birion asked when the silence had stretched too long.
“Demon,” Tormjere answered. “Or at least traces of one.”
“How can you tell? We have seen nothing that would indicate their presence since we abandoned the Kingdom.”
“It’s distinctive. How often do you send patrols outside the valley?”
“Almost never. We don’t have the manpower. From here to the borders of Silvalaria, the land is untamed.”
Tormjere looked up at him. “We should find out where it went.”
“We’re here for our missing merchant, not a trophy hunt.”
“What if the two are related to one another? We can split up and I’ll track the demon alone if you’d prefer.”
Birion stroked his moustache as he weighed their options. “We are too small a group to be separating. If you feel it worth going, we go together.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “We may carry the heavier spears, but we are too few in number to be testing them just yet. I will allow one day, and then we continue towards the elves.”
I agree with him. We will be leaving soon, and I need you both here with me. Be careful.
“Fair enough,” Tormjere said. “I’ll stay on foot and move ahead. It’s easier to find the trail if I’m not riding.”
Birion whispered orders to Diran behind him, which were passed silently down the line, then motioned Tormjere to continue.
The mood turned serious as Tormjere led them down from the ridge and away from the trail they had been following. The woods around them remained light and airy, but clumps of vegetation combined with the uneven nature of the terrain to keep the visibility short. He relied on his other senses to keep them headed in the proper direction.
It was not long before he came across unmistakable signs of a large creature’s passing. He knelt to inspect the ground. Mixed in among the trampled vegetation and hoof prints as big as his head were the tracks of men. It was difficult to judge the number, but if there was a demon then one set most certainly belonged to a wizard.
He signaled back to Birion, then followed as the trail of footsteps curved back east towards the road. Almost immediately, Tormjere became aware that they were not alone. He could not see them, but two other people were moving on a course that would intersect theirs. He made a slight change in direction and felt them shift to follow. Whoever it was made no sound as they drew steadily closer.
Tormjere held up a hand, and the team stopped behind him. Birion dismounted and crept beside him.
“Is it close?” Birion asked, hand tight on his spear.
“No, there’s someone else. Stay here, and draw no weapons.” He walked a short distance ahead and waited, his attention focused on a tree which concealed someone.
Moments later, an elf not much taller than Enna stepped from behind it and fixed the men with a suspicious stare. His snug garments of green and brown, which were layered in a pattern similar to Tormjere’s own, blended seamlessly into the forest.
“You are valley-men?” the elf asked without preamble.
“Yes. I’m Tormjere, and behind me is Birion.”
The elf’s eyes lingered on Tormjere’s deer-hooved knife before responding. “I am named Orodell, of Silvalaria. Why are you outside of your valley, if that is indeed from whence you came?”
Birion surrendered his spear to Jax in a politically astute move and came to stand beside Tormjere. “We are looking for a missing
merchant named Crosby. He should have returned to Newlmir a week ago.”
“How many animals?”
“Twelve,” Birion answered. “With eight men.”
Orodell considered, then motioned behind him. Another elf appeared and returned an arrow to his quiver as he came trotting forward. Orodell’s gaze softened. “They were killed not long after passing from our borders.”
“Goblins?” Birion asked, his face hard.
“It did not appear so.”
“Urtrifornu?” Tormjere asked, using the elvish word for demons.
Orodell shifted uncomfortably. “We have not seen such creatures in an age. They are practically legend, though we have heard the rumors in the east. Whatever is was that attacked your friends was large, and there was more than one. I will show you where they fell.”
The elves moved with speed to rejoin a trail. Tormjere ran with them, happy to have an excuse to remain on the ground.
“I am glad to see that at least some humans avoid riding their animals everywhere,” Orodell said.
“I prefer to be on foot, especially in the trees,” Tormjere said. “Horses are useful but noisy, and they smell.”
Both elves chuckled.
Once back upon the road, they turned south and increased their pace, jogging fast enough that the horses had to trot to keep up.
The unmistakable smell of death greeted them even before they came upon the gruesome remains of the merchant train. The horses had been stripped to the bones and their cargo scattered, while the mangled corpses of the men lay as they had fallen. They had tried to mount a defense, but the effort proved to be futile.
Birion swore, then dismounted. Tormjere said nothing as he inspected the damage. Orodell was correct that there had been two, judging from the trampled underbrush.
Demons?
Yes.
Why would they attack the caravan?
To hurt us, or simply because they were hungry. Either way, it was an easy target.
You said they ate each other.
They can subsist on lesser beings as well. It’s just less satisfying.
“Their tracks are here,” Orodell pointed, “and return in generally the same direction as the ones you were following.”
Tormjere looked at the indicated prints. One was a cloven hoof shape and the other resembled a large bear’s prints, but each was spaced as if its owner had walked upright.
“Two demons,” he confirmed to Orodell. “The one which disappeared likely took a mist gate when it was dismissed. Did you find any human footprints nearby?”
“Only those made by your friends. Why?”
“We found human prints mixed with those hoof-like ones. There are always wizards nearby, one for each demon. They control the creatures by means of a pendant worn about the neck.”
Orodell shook his head. “Our lore does not speak of anyone controlling them, though such tales are used to frighten children.”
“If only they remained as nighttime stories,” Birion said before turning to Tormjere. “I had hoped never to see such creatures again, but I find no fault with your assessment.”
“We can’t wait for them to show up in Newlmir. We have to find them first.”
“I am willing to seek their location,” Birion said, “but what do you intend to do against them?”
Tormjere did not have time to answer as Orodell spoke once more: “I am sorry for your men, especially given their proximity to our borders. We will continue our search for these creatures.”
“Care to join us?” Tormjere asked.
Orodell hesitated, and his eyes flicked down to Tormjere’s knife once more. “These woods are vast, and we lost their tracks once. If they can move about without leaving a trace how do you intend on finding them?”
“They leave a different type of impression. When you’ve been around them long enough, it’s easy to spot.”
Orodell gave him a curious glance but made no comment.
“How far did you follow them?” Tormjere asked.
“Only as far as that ridge,” Orodell said, pointing. “The tracks disappeared there, and we broke off our search when we heard your horses.”
Tormjere looked at Birion, who considered once more before speaking to Orodell. “These are your woods more than ours. We will follow your lead, but I wish to avoid conflict.”
“As do I. Very well, let us see where these creatures went.”
The elves took them west once more, paralleling the tracks they had been following earlier. The trail was not difficult to follow, as the demons had left a string of broken branches and crushed rocks in addition to their massive footprints. The creatures had not plowed through the forest indiscriminately, but neither had they put forth the effort to disguise their passing.
As Orodell had said, both sets of tracks disappeared suddenly. Tormjere stopped to survey their surroundings. The terrain became more uneven in the direction they were facing, and the trees grew thick—not the easiest for that type of demon to navigate. They must have taken a mist gate, but to where? A quick search revealed no signs of anyone else. Goats and bears, as he labelled them, were two of the more common demons, but neither were capable of conjuring a gate.
“It’s likely they were dispelled by their wizards,” Tormjere said, “though the timing is odd.”
Orodell nodded. “If their conjuring was undone, it would leave us unable to follow. We will check the area once more to be sure, but we must make haste in reporting what we’ve found.”
Tormjere was about to wish them safe travels when he felt a burning itch crawl across the back his neck. It was a warning he recognized all too well.
Both Orodell and Birion picked up on his stance, but he raised a cautionary hand before either could voice a question.
“They’re close,” he whispered. “And they’re aware of our presence.”
With silent hand signals, Birion sent the men scurrying. The horses were quickly tethered and weapons readied.
They crouched low and waited in silence, each aware of the unnatural stillness that had settled over the forest. It was broken by a rustling of leaves, and the trees not far downslope them shook as might a branch brushed against by a passing traveler.
Orodell’s sudden intake of breath revealed his shock as a goat-headed demon covered in grey fur lumbered into view. It paused, its gaze sweeping side to side as it searched. A moment later a second demon raised itself beside the first. This one was also covered in fur, but it was dark and mangy, and its face bore a canine resemblance.
“I never thought to see such creatures in my lifetime,” Orodell whispered.
“We should retreat before we’re spotted,” Birion said.
“Why?” Tormjere asked, drawing his sword as he rose. “There are only two.”
“What are you doing?” Birion demanded.
“See that lake, and the clearing beside it?” Tormjere asked, ignoring the question as he pointed to a small body of water that lay along the demon’s line of travel. “Move the men to the edge of the trees,”
“Are you mad?” Orodell hissed.
Tormjere did not answer. They could join him or not, but he would see that neither demon would escape to kill again. His legs carried him down the hill at a sprint, ensuring he reached the clearing first. His hands trembled as he took position in the middle of the sunlit glade, but not from fear.
Why are you so eager for this?
They aren’t going to leave on their own.
But against two of them? Think of the men with you.
I don’t need them.
I do not know if I can aid you from so far, but I will do what I can.
The goat-demon’s slotted eyes caught sight of Tormjere the instant it emerged from the trees. It took an eager step towards him, then stopped just as abruptly. The sound that issued from its mouth could have been a grunt, or even a wet cough, but it was closer to a word than any animal should have been capable of uttering. “Veluntrhu!”
To
rmjere remained motionless, savoring the unmistakable edge of fear in that name. The dog-headed demon gave a warning growl as it burst into the clearing, but also stopped and regarded him warily. It should have been strange to see a dog with the arms and legs of a bear, but he cared less about the odd assemblage of body parts and more for what weaknesses it betrayed.
The weaker of the two—likely the goat since it walked in front—would make the first move. This pair had some sense of self-preservation, as they crouched and stepped apart from each other without showing their hand. Tormjere continued waiting for one of them to order the other forth.
That command came in the form of a deep rumble from behind both creatures, and a third, larger demon came into view. Where the others bore some resemblance to animals this one lumbered like a grotesquely fat man, though its face looked like no man who had ever lived. Its nose was flattened and long, and sat between sharp cheekbones that splayed outwards, giving its head the appearance of a shield that had been embossed with some horrible visage.
The sudden appearance was alarming, but Tormjere forced himself to remain still. The thing had to be an overlord, and maybe even close to attaining wings. As best he knew nothing of that size had ever been bound to wizards. How, then, had it arrived here? Both question and demon were problems he would have to face, but not just yet. It would attack last.
With an angry toss of its misformed head, the most powerful demon spurred the lesser ones to action. Fearsome howls and cries echoed through the forest as they charged.
Tormjere sidestepped the grasping hands of the goat, and his blade bit deep into one of its arms. The creature shrieked in pain, but before it could react Tormjere had sliced it across the back of its leg, and it staggered to the side.
The dog was already upon him, but he had taken the measure of such creatures before, and its snapping jaws found only empty air. It was quick enough to avoid his blade, and both demons retreated out of reach as Tormjere circled, careful not to put his back to the larger demon. He would die before ever showing such weakness.
I am trying to help you, but it is difficult to focus. Are you closing me out again?
The two demons attacked together with animal savagery, a mass of snarling teeth and claws. Tormjere sprang forward to meet them, catching both off guard. He struck the goat a devastating blow across its nose, then ducked beneath the swipe of the dog’s claws and slid his hand along its back. Where his fingers touched, fire sprang up in the coarse fur. The smell of burning hair filled the air as the dog twisted about in panic.