The Demon World

by Sally Green

  “She looked fairly surprised to me.”

  “She’s brought up on a farm. Everywhere you look there are animals shitting, fucking, giving birth, suckling.”

  They dressed in their wet clothes and headed off after the girl. Soon they saw the small farmhouse and the girl standing with what appeared to be her mother and older sister.

  Edyon fixed a smile to his face and approached. “Good evening. My name’s Edyon and this is my friend March. We’ve come from Rossarb. It’s been a long and difficult journey.”

  The woman stared.

  Edyon continued in a weaker voice. “We’re exhausted and cold. We’ve not eaten for days. But we have important news.”

  “You’re wet. Nia said you were naked.”

  “We were trying to dry our clothes. We came down off the plateau in the river. Nearly died. Nearly died many times. We really should tell you about the Brigantines.”

  “What about them?”

  “They’ve invaded Pitoria, attacked Rossarb.”

  “I’ve heard as much. There’s soldiers everywhere.”

  “Soldiers? Brigantines, here?”

  “No! Our soldiers. Pitorians in the village and at the camp along the Rossarb road.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Edyon smiled. “Then we’re safe.” He clamped his hand on March’s shoulder and loudly said, “I told you so, March. All will be well. We just need a little food and rest and we can continue on our way.”

  “Which way is that?” the woman asked.

  “South and then west to the coast. A long way still ahead. And we’ve come a long way and are cold and weary to our bones.” Edyon looked at her as wide-eyed and innocent as he could appear.

  “You can have some stew with us tonight and dry your things, then you must help milk the cows in the morning before you leave.”

  Edyon smiled. “Of course. Of course. Gladly.” Edyon had once milked a goat and hadn’t enjoyed it, but he very much wanted some stew.

  They followed the woman into the house and she stared at March. “I’ve not seen eyes like that before.”

  “March is from Abask and quite friendly when you get to know him.”

  “And you’re from down south by the sounds of you.”

  “Well, I was born in the north as it happens. My mother is a trader. I’ve traveled with her all my life, far and wide, to Illast and Savaant and all over Pitoria with the fairs. So my accent is a mix.”

  “You travel with the fairs? Was that why you were in Rossarb?”

  For a moment Edyon struggled to recall—but of course they’d fled the fair at Dornan, when Holywell killed the sheriff’s man, then headed north and across the Northern Plateau, where Holywell was killed, and gone to Rossarb in Gravell and Tash’s footsteps, though all the while hoping to get a ship to Calidor. He shrugged. “Some business dealings drew me to Rossarb, but while we were there the Brigantines attacked.”

  The woman, Gloria, handed Edyon and March blankets to wrap round themselves, and the girls took their clothes outside to dry in the last of the sun.

  Edyon didn’t tell Gloria why he was in Rossarb, but he did tell the story of his and March’s escape from the town when the Brigantine army invaded, and how they fled across the plateau, though again he censored his comments and didn’t mention the demon or the demon tunnels, as he thought it would make the story too hard to believe. Instead he just said that in the flight and the storm they’d been split up from the princess’s group.

  Gloria served stew into two bowls for Edyon and March. It was mainly vegetables with a few strings of beef, but it was hot and filling and there was a lot of it. They ate in silence. All the time the small girl who had seen them in the field stared at March. March surprised Edyon by smiling at the girl and letting her come closer to see his eyes.

  Gloria asked, “So you say the Brigantines were going to all this trouble chasing over the Northern Plateau because of this princess?”

  “Indeed. Princess Catherine. She’s the daughter of Aloysius of Brigant but she’s betrothed to Prince Tzsayn.”

  “Well, I doubt the wedding’ll go ahead now,” another voice replied. A short man with dark hair and a particularly grim expression was standing in the doorway. The girls ran to him and he ruffled their hair and nodded to Gloria. “We’ve got visitors, I see.”

  Edyon stood and introduced himself and March, and the man replied that he was called Tennyon, Tenny for short, and soon Edyon was telling his story again, starting from the attack on Rossarb through to their leap into the river. At the end of it Tenny looked unimpressed. “It’s easy enough to get down from the top; there’s a few paths if you look. No need to go jumping into the river.”

  “Well”—Edyon shrugged—“with the dogs and the Brigantines after us we didn’t have time.”

  “Hmm, but the Brigantines’ll have time.”

  And how did Tenny know of these paths? Did he go up on “the top”? It was illegal to go on to the Northern Plateau, illegal to hunt demons, illegal to sell their smoke—anything to do with demons was illegal. This, though, wasn’t the time for Edyon to ask about Tenny’s possible criminal behavior.

  Tenny looked out of the window and to the plateau, then turned to March and peered at his face. “I had a lamb born with eyes like that once. Died squealing within a day.”

  March replied, “I’ve heard a thousand insults about my eyes. And I’m not dead yet.”

  Tenny smiled at this and clapped March on the arm. “Come. Show me where you got out of the river. Let’s see if the Brigantines want those silver eyes of yours to decorate their helmets.”

  Edyon and March walked back to the river with Tenny and showed him where they’d climbed out onto the bank. Everything was peaceful and quiet, though the Northern Plateau loomed like a wall across the river. “How hard is it to find the paths down?” Edyon asked.

  “Not too hard for Brigantine soldiers, I wouldn’t suppose.”

  “Why don’t they just give up and go home?” Edyon wailed.

  “Giving up isn’t a thing the Brigantines are known for, is it? They followed you all the way across the top, after all.”

  “But Gloria said the Pitorian army was nearby. Aren’t they patrolling or something?”

  “They’re along the road there and in Bollyn. They’re not here in this field. Here it’s just us and a few cows, my farm, a wife, and two daughters.”

  “You’re right to be concerned for your family, of course. My apologies.” Edyon hesitated before adding, “I’ve been wanting to ask, why is our army here? Do they expect the Brigantines to come here next? Do you have any news about the invasion?”

  Tenny ignored him and squinted up at the plateau.

  Edyon pressed on. “Do you know what happened at Rossarb? When we left, it was all in flames, the Brigantine army overrunning it. We tried to leave to the south but were cut off by fire and enemy soldiers. The only way out for us was on to the plateau. But I fear few others got out. “

  Tenny muttered, “The rumor in Bollyn is that Rossarb is taken and the Brigantines have pushed south. Farrow and the other lords have the main Pitorian army a day to the west of here, and there are camps along the river, I’d guess to stop anyone coming over from the top. But you made it, so I’m thinking the Brigantines can do it too.”

  Edyon knew that Rossarb must have fallen, but still it was a grim shock. Pitoria had lost territory easily to the Brigantines. Within a week of the invasion Rossarb had fallen. How long before the rest of Pitoria fell? But that was his task; his role was to warn his father and to ask him to join the fight against the Brigantines. But who would he join with? Tenny had said he doubted that Catherine’s wedding would go ahead and Edyon had avoided asking why. Now Tenny said that Farrow had the army—not Prince Tzsayn. Edyon had to ask a question he was dreading the answer to. “What about Prince Tzsayn? And come to that, is
there any news of King Arell? Is he still alive?”

  “Depends which rumor you believe. Most say Arell is alive but some say he’s dead. Some say Tzsayn’s dead. Some say Tzsayn’s a prisoner of the Brigantines.” Tenny shrugged. “Who knows what the truth is? You can’t put too much store in what people say. They believe what they want to believe. And I believe that, if the Brigantines want to follow you down here, there’s bugger all to stop ’em.”

  CATHERINE

  NORTHERN PLATEAU, PITORIA

  Believe in no one but yourself.

  The King, Nicolas Montell

  CATHERINE WAS woken by shouts and laughter from the men. She raised her head to look. One man was wading across the river, his arms high above his head and in his hands the end of a rope. He was being pushed downstream by the force of the water, but he eventually made it to the other side, stumbled up the far bank, and tied the rope to a tree trunk. The men near Catherine pulled the rope taut and tied it off to another strong tree.

  Catherine rubbed her eyes and walked down to the water to stand with Tanya, who muttered, “The water’s freezing. Just when I thought we’d be staying nice and warm.”

  Ambrose joined them, saying, “I’ll cross with you, Your Highness.”

  “Sir Ambrose, thank you.” Catherine felt the taut rope beneath her hands and thought of Ambrose’s muscles; his shoulders and back were strong and sinewed. She looked up at him and smiled, and then felt like blushing as if he was still able to read her thoughts, even here in the human world. Tanya moaned, “I’m so tired, I think I’ll need Sir Ambrose’s strength to help me today.”

  Catherine took the not very subtle hint, and it would do no harm, so she said, “Yes, a good suggestion. Ambrose will help you cross the river, Tanya. I’ll go with Rafyon.”

  Tanya smiled and strode to the river, looking not at all weak. “We’ll show you how it’s done.”

  Ambrose tied a scarf round Tanya’s waist and then to his own. They crossed the river on the upstream side of the rope. Tanya slipped once, but Ambrose pulled her up and they made it across.

  Rafyon tied a thin rope round his waist and Catherine’s, and they set off. The water was icy and fast-flowing, taking Catherine’s skirts and making them heavy and hard to move. Halfway across she had to stand on a round boulder on the riverbed, but her feet slipped and in a moment the icy cold water was over her head.

  She tried to regain her footing but her legs were numb and her skirts so heavy. Rafyon was pulling her up to the surface, but the current was tugging her away, and Catherine was using all her strength to kick against it. Her face was underwater and she managed to stretch up and get a breath before being pulled under again. She needed more air but she had no strength to get to the surface again.

  It was so cold and she couldn’t hold her breath much longer. The rope was stopping her from floating downstream, but it was also holding her below the water. She had to get free but the rope was knotted and tight. She could also feel Rafyon’s hand gripping her dress at the shoulder, trying to pull her up. She swung round to the surface, gasping in air, coughing and spluttering.

  “Hold on!” Ambrose shouted. His hands were holding her head out of the water, and she managed to breathe and then she was in Ambrose’s arms, and he was carrying her up the bank and laying her on the ground.

  Tanya held Catherine’s hands and breathed on them, but the warmth lasted as briefly as the breath. She felt Tanya’s fingers unthreading the lacing at her side and peeling off the wet silk. “I’ll have to get you out of these clothes. You’re freezing.” Then a jacket was round her shoulders. The bottle of demon smoke was being held to her stomach. It was gloriously warm.

  She felt eyes on her that left as soon as she looked up. Davyon was standing at a distance now. He’d run to help her too but, as ever, Ambrose was the first to her side.

  Catherine shuddered and shook. She was cold to her core.

  Ambrose knelt by her, but spoke to Tanya with a look of concern on his face. “Are you warm, Tanya? You both look pale.”

  “I’m feeling a little better now, Sir Ambrose. I wasn’t in the water as long as the princess. I think once we get moving I’ll warm up properly.”

  Catherine said, “Yes. We need to get moving.”

  But Tanya shook her head. “Please rest, Your Highness.”

  Ambrose said, “We can make a fire.”

  “I’m not an invalid.” And she pushed Tanya off and got to her feet, but she was dizzy and weak. Everyone else looked ready to move on. She had to get going. The only thing helping her was the warmth of the bottle. She just needed to get warm. She just needed some strength. A tiny amount of demon smoke would change her completely. She didn’t need anyone’s permission; she could decide for herself.

  She unstoppered the demon-smoke bottle and breathed in a small amount.

  Only when it was swirling over her tongue did she look at Ambrose, who was frowning at her. She closed her eyes as the heat went down her throat, and then it was as if the smoke was filtering through her body, first to her heart and then her stomach and down her legs and arms, finally reaching her feet and toes, her hands and fingertips. Only then did she breathe out. The smoke moved up and away, swirling and knotting together before heading back to the Northern Plateau.

  Catherine stood. She was stronger than ever and warm now. She smiled at Ambrose. “That worked quicker than any fire.”

  Ambrose shook his head, saying, “We don’t know if there are any side effects.”

  “Exactly. We don’t. But we do know that I need to be stronger. Now let’s get on to Donnafon.” Catherine smiled at Tanya and took her hand and said, “I’m feeling so much better, like I could run the whole way.”

  Catherine let go of Tanya’s hand and strode ahead of the others, but when she glanced back she saw Tanya walking with Ambrose, and both had their eyes on her.

  TASH

  DEMON TUNNELS

  TASH BEGAN to wake. She felt terrible. She tried to open her eyes and managed to squint enough through one to see the tunnel moving past her. But this was no demon vision. She was being carried like a sack of grain over Geratan’s shoulder, being bounced up and down as he ran down the tunnel.

  Let me down, Geratan.

  Are you all right?

  I feel like shit and you’re making it worse.

  Geratan stopped and smoothly set her down.

  Tash felt her face. She had a lump on her forehead, a broken nose, and one eye was almost swollen shut.

  Geratan took her other hand. Are you strong enough to walk?

  Yes, of course. Where we going? Where are the others?

  We got split up. There were too many demons. I had to head back down the tunnel. We’ll have to find another way out, on our own.

  Are the others alive? Did they get out?

  I’ve no idea.

  Have we reached that other junction yet? That other tunnel?

  We went past it. I . . . I carried on down. I’m hoping that if the demons know we’re alive they’d expect us to go up there. We’ll go up the tunnel at the next junction we come to. I’m gambling there is a next junction. But we need to keep going.

  They set off again, Tash in the lead, jogging slowly. She no longer felt sick but she had another feeling. The feeling she had when the demon died, when his smoke left him, the feeling of wanting to go back to the core—to the deepest part of the red and purple smoke. The desire to go back, the need for it was strong; she was aware of it but couldn’t get rid of it. Her reason told her to get out of the demon world, stay with Geratan, go up the next tunnel, kill the demon at the end of it, and get out, but she had a much stronger urge to go deeper into the demon world, just as the smoke had done when she had had the vision of herself flying along with it. And, strangest of all, she found that she was smiling as she ran down the slope. The tunnel seemed more like home now.
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br />   Tash rubbed the bump on her head. She really had banged it. Maybe that was making her think these strange thoughts.

  She noticed, however, that already her wounds were healing. Her eye wasn’t swollen, and her nose wasn’t so sore. The healing wasn’t as quick as when Edyon had administered the smoke to March’s wounds and healed him. But there was no smoke in her, not anymore . . . or was it still inside her, healing and giving her strange thoughts?

  And then she saw it—another tunnel had joined their tunnel. Geratan grabbed Tash’s wrist and pulled her to a stop by the junction. His thoughts filled her head loud and clear. We should try this tunnel. It looks like it goes upward. Up to the surface.

  Tash shook her head. No. I’ve been thinking about it. I want to know what’s down there. I’m going to go and see.

  What? No, you’re not. It’s too dangerous.

  Ha! And everything we’ve done so far has been as safe as being in a mother’s arms, has it?

  She heard Geratan thinking about carrying her. How are you going to kill the demon with me over your shoulder? And anyway I’ll just come straight back in.

  Geratan shook his head. Tash, you’re not thinking properly.

  Yes, I am. You can leave me here. You’ll make it on your own. Just head south when you’re out on the plateau.

  I can’t leave you.

  You’re one of the princess’s men. One of her white-hairs. You should be with her. I’m fine on my own. Probably best on my own.

  No, we stay together.

  Then you come with me.

  We go out. Together.

  And Geratan bent to gather Tash in his arms but she’d expected it and ducked and rolled and ran. She felt his hands grab her jacket, but she slipped from it and kept running down the tunnel. After a while she turned to look if he was following but there was no one there, no sound of him pursuing. She was alone.

  Still she ran on, remembering the vision of the demons in the cave, the terraces and the deep hole full of purple smoke. That was where she was going. She knew it.