Weaponforger (Guardian's Prophecy Book 3)

by D A Godwin

  Enna was surprised when Shalindra nodded. Surely she was eager to know what had transpired.

  Birion made no effort to hide his annoyance at Tormjere’s behavior, but he put his emotions in check as he bowed to them. “Your Highness, Sister Enna.”

  “What did you find?” Shalindra asked.

  “Much that was unsettling. Crosby and his entire team were slain by demons. We tracked them with the help of two elves from Silvalaria and discovered three of the creatures. Two were disposed of and one fled.”

  “You fought three demons?” Enna asked when Shalindra offered no reaction.

  “He did,” Birion answered, with a glance in the direction Tormjere had gone. “We only cleaned up the scraps. The new spears were much more effective, but the creature was already weakened. There is more.”

  Shalindra’s hands were tight at her side, but she made no motion to stop his recounting.

  “The demons recognized Tormjere, and they were afraid of him.”

  “Three demons were afraid of him?” Enna asked incredulously. It was so far-fetched that she thought it a jest, but Shalindra’s face was awash with emotions and Birion was clearly not in a mood for levity.

  “It grows more disturbing,” Birion continued, his tone softening at Shalindra’s obvious distress. “One of them spoke when it saw him. I wondered if my ears had betrayed me, but both elves later confirmed it. It named him ‘Veluntrhu.’”

  Enna bit her tongue. That was not possible.

  “That is a strange word,” Shalindra offered, almost as if he was relaying information that was already known.

  Birion seemed equally unsettled by her lack of reaction. “We spotted another camp that evening and found a wizard. He was taken captive, but before—”

  “The details are unnecessary,” Shalindra interrupted, her voice brittle. “I know how such situations will end.”

  “Forgive me, Your Highness. I should have done more to prevent it.”

  Shalindra managed a half-smile. “I know you did your best, in spite of your own feelings, and for those efforts on my behalf I thank you. I do not believe they were in vain.”

  “I am at a loss for what else he needs, but it is not us.”

  Shalindra looked towards the tower at the opposite end of the island. “I have done what I can to see that there are those who can provide him the solace we cannot. I pray that it is enough.”

  Birion bowed his head to her, then turned to Enna. “One of the elves called Tormjere something similar to what the demon named him, but I cannot recall the exact phrase.”

  Enna was certain that she knew the title the elf had used but prayed she was incorrect in her assumption. “Velantriar?”

  “Yes, that was it. What does it mean?”

  “There is no direct translation to your tongue. ‘Protector’ is valid, but in a more active sense. ‘Hunter’ may be closer to the actual intent.” She opened her mouth to say more, then stopped. “If you will excuse me.”

  * * *

  Tormjere rapped his knuckles on the door of Honarch’s tower, and it was opened moments later by Treven’s acolyte, Talley.

  “Welcome,” Talley said with a short bow. “Master Honarch asked that I let you in should you visit. He awaits you in the study upstairs.”

  “Thank you,” Tormjere said, smiling in spite of his sour mood. Honarch had finally escaped the need to run down and back up his own stairs, if only once. Even better, it meant that Treven was here as well.

  Tormjere made the climb quickly and entered Honarch’s study through the open door.

  “How was the patrol?” Honarch asked a little too casually, waving him towards an empty chair.

  Tormjere frowned as he plopped into the seat. “That depends on who you ask.”

  Treven steepled his fingers. “Our opinions often color the facts before us, but I, too, am interested in what happened.”

  “You went silent with the dohedron after the first couple of nights. Did you find them?”

  “I just forgot to use it. Things got busy.”

  “What’s that?” Honarch asked, eyeing the bag in Tormjere’s lap.

  Tormjere handed it to him. “Some gifts you may find valuable.”

  Honarch accepted it and peeked inside. With a small sound of surprise he withdrew the demon necklace and held it aloft for inspection. The darkness trapped inside the pendant swirled angrily, and a chill settled over the room. The gentle warmth emanating from Treven’s haversack flared in response, and the blind priest sat straighter and placed his hand upon the Book inside.

  Honarch must have felt something as well, for he quickly retrieved a small metal box and pushed the necklace into it. A hasty incantation sealed the container, but did little to diminish the animosity of the device inside.

  Treven was as serious as Tormjere had ever seen him. He settled back into his chair, but did not remove his hold on Amalthee’s Book. “That was unexpected.”

  “I believe you should start at the beginning,” Honarch said as he took his seat once more.

  Tormjere did, recounting all that had happened, though he omitted his consuming of the demon’s energies. Even with his closest of friends, there were things he did not want to discuss.

  When he was finished, Treven shook his head sadly. “I am sorry that your efforts to bring the merchant home were not successful and more sorry still that you faced such creatures once more.”

  Honarch began to pace. “I don’t understand why members of my former order continue down this path, but I wish I had gone with you. I cannot believe they have all given themselves to some evil purpose. Had I the opportunity to speak with the wizard, I might have persuaded him to be more cooperative.”

  “Might or might not,” Tormjere said. “Even had you been there he would have tried to escape the entire time. Then we would have needed to build a dungeon capable of containing him. We would have fed him, tried logic and reason in an attempt to make him tell us what we wanted to know, and in the end we would have killed him anyway. I just saved everyone the trouble.”

  Honarch sighed. “I don’t mean to question your judgement, given that they’ve tried to kill me almost as much as they have you, but I can see why Birion would be unhappy with that choice.”

  “He used words to that effect. Of all people I expected him to realize that our enemies are still fighting the war they started, regardless of whether we think it’s over.”

  Treven leaned forward. “One-sided conflicts present a host of problems for those who do not wish to participate. Most notable of which may be the appearance of so many demons at one time. I find that troubling in many ways, beyond the immediate threat.”

  Honarch glanced at the box that now held the necklace. “It is, and I feel that we have only a murky picture of what we are up against.”

  “Their ability to enter our world has interested me since I learned of their appearance during the invasion,” Treven added. “Amalthee remains unusually quiet on the subject, but it could be that I am simply asking the wrong questions.”

  Shalindra’s mind brushed against Tormjere’s thoughts. It was a comforting, gentle nudge that receded almost as soon as it began, but this time he held onto that touch and drew her awareness closer to his, unwilling to let go.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked.

  Honarch waved his hand, encompassing the entire world. “How are they organized? How do they live, and reproduce? Everything, really. Our knowledge of them is incredibly limited.”

  Maybe it was because he felt better after defeating the demons, or because of how settled his stomach was after consuming their flesh, or perhaps it was simply because it was his friends who wanted to learn, without passing judgement, but he accepted the cup of water Honarch offered and began to talk.

  “Their world is scorched and burnt. It’s hotter than ours, even though the skies are always covered by clouds. The days are longer, or at least it felt that way. Water…” he held up his cup, “…is difficult to fin
d and isn’t remotely clean. Nothing grows. It’s just sand and rock and wind.”

  “I can scarcely imagine a place so desolate,” Treven said, as Honarch took quill in hand and began to write in an empty book. “Even the great Suhraswalo desert offers comfort, if one knows where to look.”

  “I’ve never seen a desert, but it lacked any cheer,” Tormjere said. “The only satisfaction to be had was killing something before it killed you, so the demons organize themselves into clans for protection from one another.”

  “How do those clans work?” Honarch prompted.

  “The word they use is hapdrhu. It’s probably somewhere between clan and herd, but it doesn’t line up with our way of life very well. It’s less about loyalty and more a matter of agreed upon ownership by those above you. Lesser creatures might agree to serve a more powerful demon in exchange for protection. In return, they agree to share a portion of anything they kill.”

  “So they’re all slaves?” Honarch asked.

  “It’s more a series of binding agreements, but nothing is written down. I don’t even think they have a written language of any sort.”

  “That societal structure is not so different from a farmer paying land lease to their lord,” Treven observed.

  “To an extent. The easiest way out of any agreement is to kill the bargainer.”

  Treven shook his head sadly. “In that regard, we can be more similar than we might care to admit.”

  Honarch tapped the quill on his chin. “Are they of different sexes?”

  “There’s not really a difference as best I could tell.”

  “That begs the question of how demons are born.”

  Tormjere hesitated before answering, then plunged ahead. “The process is… not pleasant. Effectively, they dig a large hole in the ground. Into that is placed various bits and parts of lesser demons, preferably from a rival clan. It’s a huge vat of slime and offal, and the smell is, well, not good.”

  The others shuddered.

  “Once critical mass has been achieved, the demons surround the sludge and tear bits of themselves and each other off and cast it into the mixture. From these seeds, new creatures emerge.”

  “They come out full grown?”

  “No.” Tormjere shook his head. “They feed on the goo and each other. They grow and fight until they achieve enough awareness to crawl from the pit. Beings known as wharudrok await them, acting as mother and protector. They shield them until the new demons are strong enough to survive on their own. No parent awaits them, only their masters. Some demons are assigned as herders and guards.”

  “What happens to the wharudrok?” Honarch asked, his lips stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

  “The new demon eats it. They are like mother and egg wrapped together, a final shot of power to see their ‘child’ on their way.”

  “That is disturbing,” Honarch said, repressing a shudder. “Though again we can see similarities to our own world. We know of spiders who eat their mate, for example, but it is unheard of in the higher species. I would not even want to imagine eating another of my own kind, even if I was a demon.”

  Tormjere new exactly what it felt and tasted like, but he was unwilling to share that, even with his friends.

  Honarch finished transcribing his thoughts and sat back. “I’m curious about something you mentioned with the demons you and Birion faced. You said only two attacked while the third watched? We have heard no accounts of such behavior.”

  “Demons have a hierarchy to their lives. Stronger demons will send the lesser ones to fight each other. It’s a way of testing each other without always having to kill each other.”

  Treven folded his hands in his lap. “We can deduce many of their motivations simply by thinking through the information you have provided. They will have a different sense of self-worth, and less regard for others of their kind.”

  Tormjere nodded. “They hate or fear everyone, so that’s not a bad description.”

  Treven’s cloudy eyes met his, and Tormjere had the feeling he was being studied far more deeply than he found comfortable. “So, why do they fear you?”

  Honarch’s quill stopped moving, but he did not look up.

  “I wasn’t bound by their rules.”

  All three of them were waiting for him to elaborate, but he chose not to. Honarch closed the book he had been writing in, perhaps interpreting Tormjere’s silence as a desire to end the discussion.

  “I’m glad that you got that off your chest.”

  “It wasn’t that much of a burden. It seems to be bothering everyone else more than me.”

  Honarch shook his head. “If that’s your idea of a small burden, I would hate to see what you consider to be a large one.”

  Treven chuckled with them. “I would never have wished such trials upon you, yet there is a silver lining to what you have suffered through. Amalthee has blessed you with the ability to recall the most relevant of details, and you have revealed more in one conversation than we could have uncovered with a lifetime’s worth of research.”

  Honarch nodded in agreement. “This is immensely valuable. I doubt that any text of the Conclave’s contains a fraction of that knowledge. We can use this against them, should we encounter more.”

  “I’m sure we will.”

  “Shalindra informed me that you will be leaving soon,” Treven said, changing the subject.

  “I heard that as well,” Honarch said. “Something related to her prophecy, I think?”

  Tormjere nodded. “She should have left long ago. She’s meant for more than this.”

  “All things happen in due course,” Treven said, “even if we do not understand why.”

  “I’d like to go with you this time,” Honarch said. “If you run into another demon you may need the help, and should we find a wizard I might be able to talk some sense into him. I’m honestly growing tired of sitting here in isolation all the time.”

  “I have no objections,” Tormjere said, “but I’m sure others will.”

  “Thankfully, I’ve sworn no oaths of fealty and can go wherever I please.”

  “The time of our leaving draws close, as well,” Treven said.

  “So soon?” Tormjere asked, unable to hide his disappointment.

  “Father Bentoni is well on his way to completing the church, and my fellow disciples long for a return to their routines. But I am most thankful that Amalthee allowed me the opportunity to revisit this valley, and I am doubly blessed that you were both here when I did.” Treven stood and placed a hand on Tormjere’s arm. “And I believe that I have accomplished all that was needed here.”

  Into the Wilderness

  Though they had made every effort to downplay her leaving, the news spread rapidly throughout the small community. The council met repeatedly, arguing and debating their best course of action, until finally agreeing to accept Edward as the titular authority until her return. Tormjere found the tumult unnecessary, as having Edward assume Shalindra’s role had been the plan all along. He had even heard talk at Argus’ inn about whether everyone should pack up and follow her once more, but those suggestions fell on few sympathetic ears. As Honarch had said, people had grown used to living here.

  The caravan was assembled and prayers offered by both orders, this time with an emphasis on safeguarding the travelers on the road ahead. Now all that remained was for Treven and Shalindra to give their parting advice to those remaining behind.

  “You know,” Honarch commented to Tormjere as they waited, “the last time I embarked on a trek into the wilderness with you, it turned into quite the adventure.”

  “This should be an easier journey, and I promise not to antagonize any ogres this time.”

  Honarch chuckled.

  From the front of the line, Shalindra signaled, and the caravan groaned into motion. Birion’s knights, twenty strong and all handpicked, led the way. Behind them the priests were tucked safely between their own guards. Tormjere and Honarch fell into step alongside Tre
ven’s mule once more.

  A small gathering had assembled in front of Argus’ inn to see them off, but it was nowhere near the size that had greeted the priest’s arrival. Tormjere searched the crowd for Fendrick, but the dwarf was not to be seen.

  Were you expecting him to see you off?

  No, but I’m surprised that he’s staying.

  You will have plenty of time to figure out why when we return.

  Says the one who’s so happy to be leaving.

  I confess that I will enjoy the simplicity. I have been trying to reduce my duties for years, but could not when so many looked to me for answers. In Ildalarial, I will be neither princess nor savior, only a Sister of Eluria.

  They were through the town and winding their way east through thick stands of trees in short order, following the same route they had taken to see Gelid’s Rest. This part of the valley was generally safe, but the guards did not sit idle as they rode.

  They achieved the edge of the valley without incident and paused at the ridgeline to take one last look back. The falls were flush with water as they tumbled from the base of the Three Sisters, and sunlight sparkled off the river and lake it fed into. On the island, the castle and temple were clearly visible, and he could just make out the foundation of Amalthee’s new church.

  Once over the ridge, the mountains muted the ever-present roar of the water that filled the valley, and the natural silence of the forest surrounded them as they descended into another lush valley.

  There was safety in numbers, and so they continued with Treven’s group at a steady but unhurried pace towards Kirchmont for as long as they could. Whether by divine providence or simple luck, or perhaps the imposing size of their number, they encountered no credible dangers.

  On the afternoon of the third day, it was time to say goodbye. The caravan paused beside a stream, and those who had made acquaintances and established friendships during the visit bade their farewells.

  “I wish we could follow you all the way,” Tormjere said to Treven.

  “As do I. But we should have little difficulty from here. The trail we follow remains visible, if not always straight.”