Demon Eye

by B B Reed

  The ornery waitress’ familiar shrill tone drew Halena away from her people-watching, “You live after all. No nerve to crawl out of your hole for dinner last night even.”

  Halena tilted her head, puzzled by the statement, “Dinner? It’s hardly time for lunch.”

  She threw the dirty cleaning rag in her hand over her shoulder, “You missed that too. Shufflin’ in like you did yesterday mornin’ I began to think a fever had gotten rid of you.”

  Halena rubbed her forehead, blinking as the events flooded back into her memory, “Yes, I suppose I was…” She trailed off, snapping her eyes back up to the proprietress, “Wait, how long did I sleep?”

  “You daft? You slept a whole day away, spook.” She raised a wooly eyebrow.

  She sank into her chair, nodding, “I did, didn’t I?”

  “That must’ve been some job you did for Mr. Alden. Sleep a whole day off after being out all night? Yet he still tells me, ‘Lara, you gotta keep her for one more day.’ Unbelievable.” She ranted more to herself than anyone else in the room.

  “Fighting for your life only worsens a weeklong fast.”

  “Wandering around the dangerous woods, perhaps, but how else does your work drain a person like that? I’ve never heard anything like it.” She chided, giving Halena’s table a quick wipe-down.

  Halena scooted back to give her room to work, “It requires tapping into something deep inside us and it taxes the body greatly when used.”

  The petite woman rolled her eyes and let out a skeptical snort, “Like what, some fabled magick from the old legends?”

  She smirked back, “You could say that. I’ve come to rely on uncanny tools for my life on the highway.” Her eyes scanned over the other three patrons, “People probably wouldn’t believe you if you told them.”

  Lara sighed, “Sooner believe pigs will fly out my ass. Did you want somethin’ to eat? Charles also left you payment for the next coach to take you on the west road.”

  “Yes, I definitely would.” Halena bobbed her head enthusiastically, “Two eggs, sausage, hashed potatoes, and a slice of bread toasted on the skillet.”

  Surprise colored the proprietress’ face, “You hardly wanted anythin’ when you arrived. Guess your graveyard hours works up an appetite, hm?”

  When she turned away to put in the order, Halena rubbed her stomach. It groaned angrily at her, only further teased by the lingering smell of food. Her patience is rewarded with a hearty spread arriving at her table, however. The eggs were cooked to creamy perfection, complementing the bold flavors of the orange yolks. Shredded potatoes crisped in the skillet held the right amount of crunch to offset the smooth eggs, and spices from the sausage lit Halena’s tongue aflame with flavor. The fog of her long sleep lifted away by the time she polished off the plate, finally slowing down enough to savor the flavor of the egg yolks in the bottom of her plate mopped up with toast. She relaxed back into her chair, satisfied with the filling meal ending her recent days of fasting. The hourly bell rang, clearing away Halena’s culinary euphoria, and she noticed the farmhands had departed from the tavern while she ate. The huntsman was the only one left at the bar and he stirred from his stool with the bell’s chiming.

  Halena rose from her seat and gathered her bag on her shoulder, walking up to the bar. She rested her hand on the bar top, “This is where I take my leave. Do you have the payment?”

  Lara bent down behind the bar to pull out a small stack of coins bound together by twine and slid them across the counter, “Aye, just give this to the coach driver when you board. It should be waitin’ by the south gate. Where is the road going to take you?”

  She took the coins in hand, turning the stack over in her fingers, “I make for the capital.”

  Her wooly eyebrows lofted, “Causin’ trouble on the Pilgrim’s Road to see the seat of the royal family? Better pray you don’t get stepped on by the nobles.”

  “I’ll try to avoid their stride and save myself the trouble.” Halena smirked with annoyance coloring her tone. Lara gave a mocking snort and Halena turned away to exit through the front door.

  The streets of Brighthall bloomed to life since she woke and chiming grew louder as Halena walked down the cobbles of the main street of town. People had gathered in the market, and atop a stack of wooden crates stood a man with a bell that he rang with practiced rhythm. He cried to those citizens gathered, “The night watch has deemed the hollows safe! The north road opens once more for trade! Fear not of beasts that stalk the night, fear not for murderers! Homes are to be reclaimed!”

  Halena pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head, a satisfied smile on her lips. She wandered away from the scene for the south gate just as she felt the pained vibrations of her traveler stir in the back of her mind with a spiteful groan. She kept her eyes down, savoring the good news as the ringing of the crier’s bell dimmed in the distance, passing through the archway of the south gate to look for the coach. The familiar skins of the hunter she saw in the tavern were standing beside a carriage drawn by two horses, passing off payment to the driver. Halena padded up quickly behind the hunter as he boarded and looked up at the driver to offer the tied stack of coins.

  He counted the amount presented and looked back to Halena with furrowed brows, “Where ye goin’, lass?”

  “The capital, sir. Is there a problem?”

  The coachman studied her for a long moment, his eyes lingering on her blazing red marks. He held his hand out, beckoning with his fingers, “More coin. I’m not carryin’ a spook to Ando without a security fee. Bad omens follow your lot. Don’t need my property fallin’ ill cuz of a spook.”

  “Security fee?” Halena blinked and let out an incensed huff. She dug into her satchel to pull extra coins from her purse and passed them off to the old driver, “Here, for your ‘bad luck tax.’”

  “That’s right, and don’t go causing a ruckus while we’re on the road!” The coachman barked as she went to the carriage’s side to climb in.

  She swore under her breath, ignoring his snide remarks and settled into her seat diagonally from the huntsman. His gray hair was thick and evenly parted down the middle, a salty stubble adding more prickly texture to his rough features. Halena folded her arms and stared out the window to avoid any further comment.

  Nobody else came to board the coach, and before long the carriage bumped and rattled along the road with the coachman’s jeers to his horses. The clopping of horseshoes on the road filled the silence as the jittering of the carriage became normal. Halena shuffled in her seat, unable to shake the huntsman’s stare from boring into her being. Her eyes flick over to him cautiously and back, reluctant to engage him. The attention made her uncomfortable and the twitching needles of her unseen guest only provided further annoyance. Five miles out from Brighthall, Halena finally had enough and broke the silence in the cabin, “Let it out.”

  The huntsman snorted a dry snicker, letting his grip on his bow slide down the horn length, and his old brown eyes scanned down Halena’s legs, “Just thinkin’ it’s a damned shame. Someone so pretty, carrying such a brand on her face. Did you piss off the Five, give your soul to some pagan god, beg to be savaged raw like a whore by dark masters?”

  A mocking chortle followed the man’s guesses, making her nose wrinkle with disgust, “You’re right. It’s a shame.”

  The huntsman leaned forward, baring yellowed teeth, “Heh! A bloody heathen, are ya?”

  Halena cut him off with cold words, “It’s a damned shame you’re too thick to leave a person well alone.”

  His entertained grin melted away and he fell back into his seat with a sneer, “Aye, and where do you plan on goin’ with that sharp tongue?”

  “Where I please.” Halena sneered, letting her hands unfold from her chest and rest in her lap. She returned to gazing out the window at the rolling hills and thickets of trees on the horizon, the faint remnants of the morning fog burning away with the afternoon sunlight.

  A growling cough came from the m
an, his smirk returning on his wrinkled lip, “With fire like that, aye, it can. Heh, until it spits fire at the wrong person,” He shook his head, looking out of his window, “But that don’t matter to hunters. Animals don’t speak, they just fight for their lives, just as we do.”

  She rolled her eyes and sat quietly as the hunter continued his rambling. Halena nodded every so often at his tales which urged him to continue with grandiose descriptions of game hunts. He held his hands out, “A bear with a head as big as a barrel and paws the size of a small child was lumberin’ down the fells. One swipe with those claws would have broken you in half, lass, and crushed me into dust. Never saw anything like it before.”

  Her head ached as her companion continued his hunting tales and the voice growled in her thoughts.

  Incessant noise! Noise! Noise! You mortals constantly make needless noise! Can you not silence this old fool?!

  She sighed and shut her eyes, “Please…”

  The hunter paused, nose wrinkled with offense, “What, you growing bored?”

  “Your tales are fascinating, but please allow your voice to rest.” She insisted, pinching the bridge of her nose. The hunter grumbled and rested back in his seat, cursing the youth of this day.

  The silence endured far longer than five minutes, the hunter having dozed off under his hat. Halena’s migraine died down and she looked out at the stony field beyond her window, the sun taking its late afternoon descent. She reached into her traveling pack and slipped her black grimoire out to crack open across her lap, using the remaining light to take advantage of some reading while the old hunter slept. Light slowly faded away with time in her journey, the sun setting on the horizon. Hunger once again chewed at her stomach, but she kept her mind occupied with her notes. The carriage bucked as it passed over a hole, jerking the old hunter awake. He snorted and roused back to life, blinking sleepy grains from his eyes and looking outside.

  “Where do the days go?” He muttered dryly, gripping his bow.

  Halena turned a page in her notebook, answering him without raising her eyes from the script, “Ever forward. Does it still surprise you even in your twilight years?”

  The hunter chuckled, “Aye, even at sixty-three turns of the heavens. Game to hunt is always waiting for me, though.”

  Small buildings with dark timber frames pass the window of the coach and it pulled off to the side to stop in a stable yard. The driver hopped down from his seat, banging on the cabin with his hand, “First stop, Quinnsrode!”

  The huntsman piled out of the carriage and Halena followed after, tilting her head at the driver, “Are we staying here, or..?”

  He held up two fingers at her, “Two bells. I have to water the horses and eat. I suggest you do the same if’n you’re going to Ando.”

  “Heh, so your business takes you to the capital?” The huntsman chuckled. He spat into the mud, “Never liked the city, myself. Pompous nobles and all that tripe.”

  “Good thing it’s me and not you.”

  “Aye, your headache, lass. Pray the nobles don’t throw your bones to the clergy, heh.” He snorted and walked away from the coach down the road.

  Halena scowled and fixed her satchel strap on her shoulder, “It’s bound to be more pleasant than his company…”

  The coach driver shot Halena a look and left to tend to the horses. She retreated into the boarding house’s warm interior, keeping her hood up and slinking past the patrons towards an opening at the bar. A stout man came to her after serving a round of drinks, “Whatcha want? We have dumplings on the stove tonight, or you can put in an order.”

  She eyed the steaming pot behind the red-haired proprietor, “That… would be perfect, actually. A bowl, please.”

  The balding, pink-cheeked man bobbed his head and patted the countertop, “Eight marks, lass.”

  Halena dug out her payment and left with a wooden bowl and spoon cradled between her hands to eat at one of the two long dining tables. She stirred the vegetables and pale hunks of chicken in the creamy broth, evoking more steam from the heated mix and tucked into the bowl at a slow pace. In quiet peace, she ate while the other patrons exploded in waves of laughter at their tales. Her notebook came out of her satchel when she finished and spent her layover scribbling down details about her findings in Brighthall. Halena pulled her bag closer, digging inside for the dirty rag hiding the stone. She checked over her shoulder for curious eyes and glanced back down, unfolding the rag while keeping it hidden. Smoke wafted under the dark amethyst surface, warm to the touch. The bristling needles in her head twitched with jolts of discomfort down her spine the longer she stared.

  “What’s a lone maiden doing at an empty table?”

  She jerked up, meeting the twinkling glow of spectacles and white teeth brandished in a wolfish grin. Halena cleared her throat, “Waiting for the coach to leave.”

  “Ah, a traveler, then. With make-up like that, you must be a performer. A wandering minstrel with bardic songs to sing for us tired souls?” The gentleman chortled. Long red coattails glow in the lamplight, neatly cuffed sleeves with brass couplings, and a mop of dark hair as straight and long as a horse’s mane loomed over Halena. Only a light stubble shadowed his jaw, yet the man’s appearance was one of poise and refinement.

  Halena clapped her notebook shut and stuffed it into her bag, buckling it closed, “No, I don’t really have the nerve to be a performer. I work alone.”

  “So, that leaves you only as a wanderer.” He reached inside the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out a silver pocket watch to examine the time. The gentleman nodded towards the door, “The wandering resumes sooner than one expects. Wouldn’t want to miss the coach, now would we?”

  He bowed and left for the door. She rose to her feet and peered outside, seeing the shade of night weighing on the colors of the sun’s last light. She returned to the yard outside of the boarding house, spying the red coat of the gentleman boarding her coach. The old horseman looked up and barked at Halena, “Ya still goin’ to Ando, woman? Get in!”

  Quickly, she jogged up to the carriage and climbed into the cabin to retake her seat in the corner. A yellow glow flicked to life and the traces of light poured in through the windows, the driver having lit two lanterns to brighten their way through the dark. The crack of his reins made the horses whinny, and soon the coach picked up its pace, rolling over the muddy tracts of road that cut through the small settlement. The coach rattled and bucked until it hit the even lay of the road, settling into a gentle rock as it rolled into the night.

  The gentleman removed his circular spectacles and cleaned them with a white cloth, “It seems we’re both on the path to grand Arras Ando. An astounding place, really. Biggest city of the kingdom, but those of the western coast would be hard-pressed to agree.”

  Halena looked down sheepishly, “I… wouldn’t know. I have never had a reason to visit the capital before. This is my first time.”

  His eyebrows lofted in shock and the spectacles were returned atop his nose, “A self-proclaimed wanderer, and you’ve never been to the seat of holy Arram?”

  She shook her head, “My work never required it of me, until now.”

  He reached across to Halena with his hand open, “Well, you are in for a treat, miss. I am Edward Astier, but ‘Ed’ suits me just fine.”

  “Uhm, a pleasure… Ed. My name is Halena Maris.” She gave the gentleman’s hand a firm shake. Her hands folded back into her lap, skepticism lacing her tone, “I’ve heard mixed things about the city. Talk of nobles looking down their nose at citizens and the occasional conspiracy about taxing them so heavily.”

  A chortle hummed in his throat and he laced his fingers together in his lap, miming his traveling companion, “Yes, the woes of the common man trying to pay their dues to the Holy See, feeling so removed from the heads of state. Alas, they’re unaware of the careful theatre behind the city’s walls. A battleground of a different caliber is constantly being fought, requiring quick wits, sharp tongues, and a l
engthy knowledge of law. The Ministry fights for the benefits of their respective peoples, and while no blood is shed, it is exhausting, delicate work to maintain.”

  “Is this what the nobles do in the capital? They debate and play games of politics to try speaking for their people? Where does the ‘common man’ get to talk to the ministry?” Halena tilted her head at her riding guest.

  “There is some nuance to it, if you ever cared to go deeper than the big picture, you’d better see the intricacies. Although, it’s a great shame if all you’ve heard of Arras Ando is talk of corruption and politics.” Ed smirked, twiddling his thumbs together.

  “Why? It doesn’t sound so different from what you described. The rest I can fill in the blanks on what happens behind those walls. People, trade, constant noise…” Halena trailed off, a skeptical frown pulling at the corner of her lip.

  Ed nodded, looking down at his hands thoughtfully, “You aren’t far off, but has anyone told you of the grand architecture, the ivory arches and terraces of the city’s districts? Looking upon the beautiful lay of Arras Ando is reason alone for some travelers to go the distance.”

  She shook her head, grunting as the carriage bucked over another hole in the road, “Perhaps, but I am not going there for the novelty.”

  Edward’s groomed eyebrow lofted in curiosity, “Business?”

  “Business.”

  “Unless your business came with directions, perhaps I could help you find your way once we reach the city?” He asked, gesturing to Halena.

  She looked away to the window, watching the passing rocks and reeds of moor grass illuminated by the lantern light. Her mind mulled his offer over, taking careful stock of the well-dressed stranger’s posture. No wicked grins, a relaxed demeanor, nor were his eyes hungry for coin or carnal wants. He appeared harmless enough. A reluctant sigh huffed through Halena’s nose, “If you know how to take me to the college within the city walls, I’d be grateful.”