by Ross Turner
Within seconds she reduced the towering monster to bloodied and shredded remains, and immediately moved onto the next, much to the surprise, and delight, of the Southern Armouries’ residents. They all cheered at the sight of Isabel and Zanriath, and especially the demon they had apparently brought with them, felling monsters in innumerable quantities.
And so, also without hesitation, Cole and Isabel and Zanriath ploughed into the heart of the battle, pouring their wills and souls into their efforts.
Cole and Zanriath immediately set to work isolating the demons in searing rings of fire, allowing for the wounded valuable time to recover, and for the archers chance to bring down their foes. The flames licked and scorched the towering beasts, though they would eventually succumb to their desire and just accept the pain of crossing them, it held them back long enough.
Somehow simultaneously, Cole also worked with his mother to bring down the monsters in great shoals with their own combined efforts, juggling both his elemental and demonic abilities seemingly without worry. Isabel screamed demonic incantations with untold fury, and Cole’s concentration, apparently still never having required incantations, cast wide arcs of destruction in every direction.
The bloodied battlefield rang shrilly with the cries and screams of both defeat and victory as the vast hordes of demons were felled and the Souls were cast furiously from their hosted physical forms.
Isabel and Zanriath heaved a sigh of relief as they finally relaxed their wills, pouring sweat from their efforts, and viewed the extent of the damage. Their breathing was heavy and laboured, and it took them a few minutes to recover their composure.
Cole relaxed also, though for some reason he did not seem to feel the fatigue to the same extent as his parents. Rose returned to his side, loping almost casually as she did so, though her fur was stained from head to toe a dark, crimson red.
All around lay the bodies of defeated demons and people alike, their blood, and in some cases limbs and even organs, tarnishing the crisp, white snow until it was red and black and mottled with flesh.
“Isabel! Zanriath!” A voice that Isabel vaguely recognised called from a distance. She turned to see the long-familiar figure of Garan riding towards her atop a powerful white horse, also bloodied from the battle.
As he approached, she saw that his leather armour showed the signs of frequent and very recent use, but otherwise he seemed to be in good condition. He looked considerably older than she recalled, the years showing their effect rather obviously, and his hair was dashed thoroughly with grey, and his face was worn and weathered by his very particular outdoor lifestyle.
He held a large bow firmly in one hand as he approached, and he eyed Rose cautiously, his training and past experiences still seemingly driving him to caution - something, admittedly, that Isabel could not fault.
“Garan!” She called back as he neared them and brought his horse to a halt. Clearly at the sight of Rose both Garan and his steed were wary, although he had quite clearly seen her fighting alongside Isabel during the conflict. Nevertheless, Rose’s sheer, intimidating size and prowess made him a little unsure as to whether the battle was actually over.
But then something passed between Cole and the mare, and she relaxed, somehow calming Garan also, for he sensed that his horse was unconcerned by the beast stood before them.
“It has been a long time my friends.” Garan said. “Too long…and it would appear that your coming is not for social reasons.” He speculated pointedly, eyeing the remains of their foe littered all about him.
“It has been a while.” Zanriath replied. “And, as you’ve guessed, I’m afraid not.”
“This is not the first attack today.” Garan told them. “But it was by far the worst. Their numbers seem to be growing.”
“Yes.” Zanriath only said. Isabel nodded too.
“I’m afraid we come bearing bad news my friend.” She said. Garan nodded, but looked then again to Rose and Cole, his gaze inquisitive.
“Allow me to introduce my son and his demon.” Zanriath said in response. Cole stepped forward with Rose and grasped Garan’s strong hand in a firm handshake. “This is Cole…and Rose.” He continued, gesturing to each of them.
Cole smiled, comforted as he sensed the good nature of Garan’s will, and Rose inclined her head politely to Garan and sniffed with intrigue at his horse.
“It’s my pleasure…” The brave warrior said with some uncertainty as the huge beast sniffed inquisitively at his leather armour. “Forgive me my friends but, I was unaware that the demons were choosing sides now.” He shifted back a little and Rose looked at him with an understanding expression, only confusing Garan further.
Rose looked down at the warrior questioningly, and his grip tightened slightly on his bow, still ever wary.
“Please.” Cole stepped in, speaking firmly. “Rose will harm no one here. Be calm.” Garan looked to the young boy in slight surprise, obviously unaccustomed to one of such an age speaking in such a firm manner.
As if to emphasise the point, as Garan looked back and forth between Cole and Rose, the huge demon lolled her tongue out of her mouth playfully: an odd sight from such a powerful beast, he found, and Garan could not help but laugh.
Rose’s understanding of these strange humans had grown considerably in the short time she had been in existence, and she was learning evermore rapidly how to more easily gain their confidence and trust.
Garan relaxed his shoulders.
“Well spoken young Cole.” He complimented Isabel’s son as he slung his bow once again to his back by way of acknowledgement. “I will do as you ask. She is, might I say, a fine creature.”
“Thank you.” Cole replied. Rose looked back to Garan and, to his shocked surprise, he could have sworn he saw the beast smile at him, the look in her eyes, so similar to Cole’s he noted, a knowing one.
Behind Garan in the background Isabel could see the men of the Southern Armouries moving the dead and the injured between the tall, stone buildings. Indeed, buildings that she had never expected to see in Hinaktor - the workshops of the master craftsmen seemingly the only permanent establishments on the entire island.
Then, suddenly Garan’s trail of thought seemed to shift as he noticed Isabel inspecting their residence, and he looked back to her. A question that, little did he know she had been expecting, began to form in his mind.
“Is Ayva not travelling with you?” He asked, seemingly from the blue. Isabel smiled at his words, as she had indeed known the matter would crop up, even after all these years. But then her smile faded, and she could not bring herself to fully deliver to him the news of Ayva’s fate.
“I’m sorry Garan...” Isabel began, her heart jumping as sorrow registered on the brave man’s face, unable to conceal it. “Ayva is very well, but She was unable to accompany us on this journey, She is otherwise occupied at present.” His grief lessened somewhat, as his original presumption was discarded, but he was still pained rather obviously by Her absence. This only registered in his expression however, and his voice remained unchanged.
“That is a pity.” He replied. “But I’m glad She is well.”
Isabel smiled understandingly, but before she could reply, Garan quickly moved the subject on, and Isabel could not bring herself to stop him.
“So what in the world is happening?” He asked. “When the demons disappeared, I presumed you’d been successful Isabel? Was Depozi not defeated?”
“We were successful.” She replied sadly. “But now things have changed.” Suddenly the snowfall returned and began to rapidly intensify, and Garan suggested that they continue their conversation inside.
They gladly agreed and, taking him up on his offer, followed him through an array of stone buildings, a combination of workshops, smithies and tool sheds. They eventually reached a stout and rather wide structure, built entirely from enormous stone blocks, each one nearly as big as Isabel herself. How on earth they had constructed anything at all with such monstrous blocks sh
e would never know, but she was sure that if anyone could have found a way, it would have been Garan and his ancestors.
Garan led them inside of what seemed to be, quite simply, an enormous warehouse, containing many rows of tables with maps spread across them, weapons stashed across the walls, and burly warriors dressed in bloodstained armour, busy cleaning both metal and leather.
Isabel observed one enormous man with a bright red beard, busy, working away, entirely focused upon the task of polishing a tiny nick, very carefully and very precisely, out of his sword. The sword itself was enormous, and she doubted she would have been able to even lift it, let alone wield it. The great man’s patience must surely have been unmatched, as the tiny stone he used slowly ebbed gradually away at the chip, repairing the damage millimetre by millimetre.
She noticed others too, some also cleaning and making repairs, and some simply sat in silent solitude. She considered that perhaps they had lost friends and family in the recent struggles against the demonic that had yet again succeeded in claiming innocent human lives.
Isabel shared in their pain all-too keenly and could see the troubled and guilty look in her son’s eyes as he surveyed those littered about, in what could have only be described as utter dismay. But the Southern Armouries, as Isabel well knew, were a professional, organised group, and the events of late would not hold them back. She knew they would do what needed to be done, regardless of any setbacks.
Garan directed them over to a well-lit corner of the building, only slightly warmer than the outside world, though they were sheltered from the chill, driving wind, which made a huge difference. He halted them before a large wooden table that had a map and several scrawled lists spread across its surface. He shuffled them about for a moment, seeming to organise his thoughts, before proceeding.
“When we realised the demons had returned, we began to pool our resources.” He explained, gesturing to the map.
“How’s it looking?” Isabel asked seriously, assuming quite accurately that the instant demons had once again been sighted on the island, Garan had jumped to action. The wearied man at her side sighed.
“Problematic.” He finally concluded, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand. “We are all armed, of course, but the heart of the problem lies in our nomadic lifestyle.” Garan explained. “We’re spread too far and too wide. At the rate the demons have been appearing, I don’t know if we’ll be able to mobilise enough men in time for a second demonic war.” His forehead creased with worry. “Alone we’re vulnerable to their numbers - it would just turn into an extermination.” He furrowed his brow yet even harder, peering intently at the map, hoping that somehow an answer would make itself known.
Then Cole stepped forward and glanced over the map of the island.
“How do we know there will be a second demonic war?” The young man asked. Garan blinked at him for a second. Cole of course knew of how his mother and father had assisted Hinaktor in the past, for the story was a popular one, but he was surprised that Garan had jumped so quickly to the conclusion of another war.
“What else could the demons want?” The warrior asked.
“This time things are a little different…” Isabel stepped in.
She gave Garan a brief explanation of how Thorn had been overwhelmed by the Souls of the Ocean and, how consequently, every demon he summoned was also infected.
“And so what about the demons that have already been killed?” Garan asked, pleasantly surprising Isabel with his acute understanding. “What happens when this Thorn opens the demonic realm?” Isabel’s face fell solemn and Garan knew her answer even before she spoke.
“They will all return.” She told him. “I sealed off the demonic realm once before, when I defeated Depozi, but this time the situation is quite different. This time, once the link to the realm is reopened, any demons that we kill will not be cast back to Depozi, they will be sent back to their realm.”
“And then they could simply come back…and their numbers would never run out.” Garan concluded for her. “Hmm…yes…now it’s not just the demons that want to kill us, but the lost souls too.” He added half-heartedly.
“Come now Garan.” Cole said in an almost reprimanding tone. “Your father did not give his life in the first demonic war for you to take on that attitude, did he?” Isabel and Zanriath stared at their son with a picture of horror and shock painted across their faces, their mouths slightly agape.
Garan’s reaction was much the same, though after a few moments his expression changed quite dramatically. Shame was the emotion that then overwhelmed him, and Isabel even thought for a moment that the great warrior’s knees were going to buckle under the weight of it.
“Forgive me.” He replied, his voice quivering. This shocked Isabel and Zanriath even further, as the strong, leadership-bound man, apparently now too the head of the Southern Armouries’, following the passing of his father, apologised to their son for his doubt.
“You are correct.” Cole continued, his tone returning to normal. “Their goals are aligned, and there are many more of them now, and, as you rightly pointed out, as soon as Thorn is able to connect the two realms, their number will indeed become infinite.”
Cole’s acute summary did not quell Isabel’s worry, and she wondered where exactly this conversation was leading. He continued.
“But the Souls are also much more intelligent than the demons. They know we’re a threat to them, and if they can isolate us, they will concentrate all their efforts to destroy us.” He said solemnly, gesturing to his parents and Rose and he explained the situation further.
Though Cole’s voice was his own as he explained this to the great warrior, Isabel did not recognise the words he spoke.
“Why would we isolate you though?” Garan asked in near exasperation. “Surely alone they would just overwhelm you?”
“Because that may be the only way to save the people.” Cole told him firmly, his mind made up. “And we must do it by any means necessary.” Cole said steadily and honestly. “First they’re going to kill everybody I care about.” The truth in his words was shocking, and Isabel even felt a little winded as her son continued. “Including my parents, and my friends.” He raised his arm again, his hand opened in indication towards Isabel and Zanriath and Rose.
“So they wish to converge their forces here and surround you?” Garan said warily, not knowing what Cole was trying to achieve, and, like Isabel, a little astounded by his harsh words.
“The demons are spread across all four islands now.” Cole explained patiently. “But Thorn is still out in the ocean, so that we cannot reach him. He is attempting to release the demons from their realm, and he is very close to succeeding.”
“How can we stop him?” Garan asked.
“We don’t have the luxury of time to wait for him to come to us. The force he would bring with him would be far too powerful.” Cole said, somewhat suggestively, looking at Garan deliberately, as if trying to make a point. “We have to draw him out.”
“No.” Garan asserted. His roots and heritage were apparently dug deeply with his pride. “We will be able to hold long enough for you to defeat him.”
Cole smiled understandingly, but also sympathetically.
“I’m afraid you would not Garan.” He said sighing. “Everybody would perish, and we would fail.” Silence fell for a few moments and Garan’s eyes widened with fear, the truth of Cole’s tone sinking through his bravery.
“What are we to do?” He asked of the boy before him.
Isabel and Zanriath exchanged a confused glance and continued to look back and forth between their young Cole and their old friend Garan, still not sure what Cole was trying to achieve.
“We have to find a way to get to Thorn. We have to stop him before he raises so many demons that they overrun the entire kingdom.” Though Cole’s voice was imploring, and Garan was urged so by it, for some reason, he closed off Cole’s suggestion.
“No.” Garan denied again suddenly.
The strange exchanges between the two of them had confused Isabel completely now, and she was beginning to think there was much more going on than met the eye. “It isn’t possible.” The warrior continued. “If we wait, he will come to us, and we will simply have to hold. There is no other option.”
“You’re sure?” Cole asked. “You’re sure there won’t be too many of them?” The answer to Cole’s question was blindingly obvious, but Garan seemed to ignore it, though why exactly, Isabel could not discern.
“There is no way to reach him.” Garan asserted defensively. “We have no choice.”
Cole surveyed the warrior for a moment, seeming to be deep in thought. His hand had been resting absently on Rose’s neck throughout the strange conversation. Eventually he dropped his arm to his side and sighed.
“Very well Garan.” He said. “If you assure me that there is no means by which we can reach Thorn to draw him out, then we will indeed have to await his coming.” And with that, Cole bid his parents and the brave warrior goodnight, with a strangely firm handshake that widened Garan’s eyes somewhat, and retired for the evening.
Isabel and Zanriath were left standing in awe with Garan as their son and his demon ambled off, vanishing back outside into the snowfall. Stood, bewildered and perplexed, they glanced back and forth between Garan and Cole’s disappearing silhouette, unsure exactly what to do.
What had just happened?
Isabel looked to Garan for answers, and was curious to see an almost guilty expression on his face as he bid them a hasty thanks and goodnight also. There was clearly something that he had not wanted to share with them, though, judging by the strange conversation that had just taken place, Isabel guessed that Cole already knew what it was.
They followed their son’s and Rose’s fading footsteps to the spare house that had been allocated for them for the night, pondering even still the conversation that had just unfolded so strangely before them.
Both Cole and Garan had spoken the truth, passing back and forth desperate alternatives as to their approach to their seemingly dire situation, but something did not feel wholly right to Isabel.