by A. C. Cobble
“This is the Rift,” she explained.
Frowning, Corinne and Grunt leaned in close. They had experience in the Wilds, and were trying to match the squiggles on the map to what they knew of the actual terrain.
“I’ll be honest,” remarked Grunt. “I don’t know where that is.”
Towaal nodded. “I suspected it wouldn’t look familiar. Since the Rift’s creation, it’s likely the terrain has changed significantly. Even if it hasn’t, the Wilds are a vast territory and this could be anywhere. What we need to do is narrow the search.”
“How do we do that?” asked the hunter.
“We know the Rift is where the demons are coming from. Where the demons are thickest is intuitively where we should expect to find the Rift. If we can trace the highest concentration of demons, then we have narrowed our search, and hopefully can make some sense of this map.”
“You’re saying you want to know where the most demons are, and then actually go there?” demanded Corinne. Everyone ignored her.
After a pause, Ben asked, “How do we know where the highest, uh, concentration of demons is located?”
Rhys answered, “I think I know.”
They all turned to him.
“How do you know where all of the fish are in a lake?” he asked, grinning. When no one responded, he answered his own question. “You ask the oldest fisherman.”
***
After Rhys said that, Corinne and Grunt both immediately thought of the same person. The ‘oldest fisherman’ when it came to demons was a retired hunter named Long Axe who lived in Corinne’s hometown of Skarston.
It was one day north of Kapinpak and the last bastion of civilization before the Wilds began. They left just after dawn and arrived midafternoon.
“That’s a bit dramatic and silly, isn’t it? Long Axe,” remarked Ben derisively.
“I am called Grunt,” said Grunt.
“Right,” acknowledged Ben. “That is a good point.”
The hunter muttered under his breath and they kept walking down the street.
They were restocking their supplies in Skarston while Lady Towaal and Corinne tracked down Long Axe. Corinne knew the man from when she was a girl. They hoped the personal connection would open the door for Towaal to ask what they wanted to know. Like many old people, Long Axe had a reputation for telling a good story, just not always the one you wanted to hear.
“Rice, beans, kaf…what else did we need?” asked Grunt. Ben hoped the man wasn’t changing the subject because he was offended about the name thing.
“Rice and beans? Is that a good idea?” inquired Ben. “I wouldn’t think a fire in the Wilds is wise.”
Grunt shook his head. “Demons don’t care much about fire. People do. Trust me, if we’re out there long enough and winter hits, we’ll want that fire. And if we have fire, we might as well cook some rice and beans.”
“Demons aren’t attracted to fire?” wondered Ben. “You mean, they can’t see it or even smell it?”
“I have no idea what a demon sees or smells,” responded Grunt. “I just know that fire doesn’t seem to attract them. I’ve had hundreds of fires in the Wilds and never had a problem with it. Demons are attracted to life-blood, I know that. And they hate water,” he finished.
“I knew that about water,” agreed Ben. “We should keep that in mind, it’s saved me before. I don’t think they like daylight either. I’ve always heard they are move active at night.”
Grunt snorted. “Son, there ain’t no real water in the Wilds during winter. It’s frozen. And daylight, well, we go up north, the days get shorter and shorter. You worry about darkness, and you’re going to be doing a lot of worrying before we make it back to Northport.”
“Oh,” replied Ben. He had a lot of learn.
They ducked into a shop front where Grunt said they would be able to find everything they needed. With a quick look, Ben saw the place carried merchandise geared toward adventurers and hunters. Perfect.
When they exited the store, Ben saw a long plume of dark black smoke rising into the air. He grabbed Grunt’s arm and pointed toward it. “What is that? An attack?”
Grunt shook Ben off and replied, “Nah, probably was an attack. That smoke is clean up.”
“What do you mean?” asked Ben.
“Burning demon corpses,” explained Grunt. “The things are noxious and burning ‘em makes that thick black smoke. Worst thing you’ve ever smelled. That’s why they’re doing it out of town. You don’t want that smoke getting around your house. My advice when you see a burn pile, do not get down wind of it. You’ll be sick for a week.”
“Why do they burn them if it’s so bad?” queried Ben.
“Well, unburned dead demons don’t exactly smell good,” replied Grunt seriously.
Back at the inn, with supplies in hand, they passed a table of three men who were discussing the burn pile. Ben loitered nearby while Grunt went to speak to the innkeeper.
“‘Bout eight or nine of 'em, small ones,” muttered one man. “Not good, a swarm that size coming at the town. They’re getting run outta somewhere.”
“You’d rather it be a bigger swarm?” snorted another man.
“Course not!” said the first, “I’m just saying. Small groups usually aren’t active that close to Skarston. If they’re coming this way, that means one of two things. Either something’s pushing them this way, or they can’t find anything to eat out in the Wilds.”
“And why do I give a pig’s filth about demons not being able to find something to eat?” The second man laughed.
“Because if that swarm couldn’t find anything to eat, it’s because someone already ate it all,” explained the first man patiently. “It means there are bigger swarms, and it’s just a matter of time before they come here. I think that’s why old Rhymer in Northport is encouraging everyone to leave.”
The second man barked, “Rhymer wants us to leave so he can get all the land. I heard the mines are running thin this season and prices are edging up for produce out of Sineook. I’m telling you, it’s a ploy to get our farmland.”
“I don’t think so.” The first man paused dramatically. “I’m thinking about moving the family down south.”
“What!” shouted the third man, finally joining the conversation. “You can’t leave here! Your business will be ruined, for one. And that father-in-law of yours is going to go nuts if you try and take his daughter and grandchildren away. He’ll straight up kill you! Didn’t he say that at your wedding?”
The first man sighed heavily. “He and I spoke about it. He thinks maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”
The three men sat back in silence, contemplating the mugs of ale sitting in front of them.
Ben edged quietly away from the table and went to find the rest of his companions.
The next morning, they were back on the road, heading north from Skarston. Ben glanced behind them and watched as men patrolled along the walls. The walls reached three-man heights but had nowhere near the thickness of Northport’s.
At one of the corners, workmen were busy adding another story to the watchtower. Ben could see other newly built towers rising behind the walls in town. The signs were obvious, but these people didn’t want to see them.
He told Amelie about the conversation the men were having the day before.
She shrugged helplessly.
“Most of these people have never been further than Northport. Skarston is all they know, it’s their home,” she said.
“They’ve got families, they’ve got children. How can they stay and risk the kids?” wondered Ben.
Amelie replied, “I don’t know how many fled the Coalition in Issen before it was surrounded, but I’m guessing it’s not a lot. How many people left Farview when you had the demon there? If we hadn’t arrived, what would have happened?”
Ben frowned.
The demon threat was real. Their leaders knew it, and even if they didn’t want to admit it, the people knew it, but no one
was taking real action. Building up the walls and carrying around a dagger to buy bread were worthless if what Lord Rhymer believed was true. If hundreds of demons fell on Skarston, the place would be a wasteland of blood-drained bodies. Why weren’t they doing more to stop it, or more of them running? In Farview, they had done something. They had called for a hunter.
“I just don’t get it,” mumbled Ben in response.
“People know something is wrong and they are scared,” replied Amelie, “but that doesn’t mean they know what to do. Or maybe they do know, but they don’t have the courage to do it.”
Towaal, overhearing the discussion, added, “It’s the madness of crowds. Everyone is sitting around waiting on someone else to act. Everyone can see the problem, and sometimes they even talk amongst themselves about the problem. They always call for someone else to solve it. It takes a special individual to stand up in that crowd and do something.” Towaal adjusted her pack then looked Ben in the eye. “Are you a person who will stand up and do something?”
***
Ben was quiet as they settled down to camp in an open field near the road. They started a campfire several strides out from under an ancient oak tree. The flickering light barely lit the bottom branches which rattled eerily in the cold wind.
Grunt volunteered to take the first dinner shift and was busy boiling water for his specialty, rice and beans. Corinne was lingering around Rhys, pestering him with questions. Lady Towaal gazed north into the night sky.
Amelie settled next to Ben and mentioned, “You have been quiet all day. Scared?”
He shook his head. “Not scared for me, no. More scared for what this world is coming to.”
“Thinking about what Towaal said earlier?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he answered. “We’re going into the Wilds to close some demon rift. We’re trying to gather support to help Issen and your father. We’re running from the Sanctuary, who it turns out isn’t exactly interested in helping their fellow man. It…it’s just so much. Lady Towaal acts like I am someone who can do something about all of this. I’m just a brewer from Farview. Who am I to fix all of these problems?”
Amelie answered, “If we, including you, don’t do something about all of it, then who will? You have to start somewhere, and you have to start with someone. It might as well be us.”
“You know what I think you should do,” declared Rhys, who stomped up noisily. “You should lighten up a little bit.”
Ben smiled wanly at his friend.
“Seriously, the world’s a messed up place and it always has been,” said Rhys. “You can’t be down on yourself about it all of the time.”
Rhys was holding his pipe and stuffing a wad of dried leaves into the bowl. Corinne came up behind him.
“I told you I didn’t like pipe smoke,” she said.
“I know,” Rhys responded with a roll of his eyes. “That’s why I’m going to smoke it.”
Instead of being offended, Corinne’s expression grew determined. Ben smiled to himself. Rhys would have to watch his back with her.
Amelie looked on smugly as Rhys retreated toward his pack. The bow-wielding hunter followed close behind.
Ben reached out and squeezed Amelie’s hand. “Whatever happens, we’ll do our best,” he told her.
***
That night, they set a watch schedule. Demons were active after dark. They would all be slaughtered if one came across them and no one was awake to alert the others. Ben pulled the last shift.
He spent his two bells walking around the perimeter of the camp and occasionally moving to lay another log on their fire, trying to avoid looking into it.
He pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders and wished he could sit by the fire. He needed to be on his feet to stay awake and worried that if he was close, he couldn’t stop himself from staring into the dancing flames. There was no point in having the light of a fire if he stared at it and ruined his night vision.
It was a cold, late autumn night. Not any worse than winter in Farview, though.
They didn’t know how long this journey would take. No one thought it would be quick. By the end, it would be full winter in the north and the chill Ben was facing now would seem comfortable.
He kept circling the camp and peering out into the field around them. They had great visibility at this campsite. Aside from the huge oak tree, they were in a wide-open clearing. It was contrary to all of the other campsites they had chosen since leaving the Sanctuary. Then, they did not want to risk being seen by other people. Now, they wanted plenty of opportunity to spot approaching demons.
Before long, a weak light suffused the air from the pre-dawn sun. Ben could see across the field to a ragged line of trees north of them. Somewhere in the distance, he thought he saw a tendril of smoke rising from within the woods. They would be heading that way later in the morning. He wondered if the smoke was some hard-headed farmer who refused to leave the area or if it was something else.
A stirring behind him drew his attention. He saw Grunt was sitting up, covering an impressive yawn with his hand. The man, despite his size, rolled silently to his feet and rummaged through his pack. He produced a battered metal tea kettle and filled it with his water skin. Ben continued his patrol, watching the hunter out of the corner of his eye.
Soon, Rhys was up as well. He wandered off behind the tree they were camped next to and Ben heard him relieving himself.
Grunt’s tea kettle was at a soft boil. He produced another cylindrically shaped kettle which he filled with what looked like a coarse black powder. He then poured the boiling water into the new kettle and fastened the lid.
Rhys moved over to squat beside Grunt, holding a cup eagerly in two hands.
Grunt pushed down on a plunger at the top of the kettle and then filled his and Rhys’ cups.
Ben finally noticed the smell and realized the hunter was brewing kaf.
Steam rose from the cups and both men gave it a minute before taking a tentative sip of the hot liquid. Rhys sighed appreciatively and sipped again.
He stood and walked over to Ben, whispering, “It’s nice to travel with a man who knows his priorities.”
“I thought your priority was alcohol?” joked Ben.
Rhys grinned. “At daybreak, outside, during winter in the north, I am willing to make an exception and enjoy a mug of kaf before I start on the serious beverages.”
Ben smiled and thought about getting his own cup. When he looked back at Rhys, his gaze was drawn over the man’s shoulder, and he frowned.
Two hundred paces away, bouncing in and out of the knee-high morning mist, was a black shape.
“Look,” he hissed in a low voice, pointing at the figure.
Rhys and Grunt both turned and observed.
Grunt took another sip of his kaf then remarked, “Piece of advice, Ben, and I mean this in the most friendly way possible.”
The man sat down his cup then picked up his crossbow. “When you see a demon out here, don’t whisper about it,” he said. Then he shouted, “You yell!”
The rest of the party bolted upright in their bedrolls and saw Grunt stride forward to the edge of the camp. Calmly, he set his feet and raised the compact, steel-armed crossbow. He sighted down a thick, broad-headed bolt.
Rhys moved to stand beside him but was paying more attention to the tree line behind the quickly approaching demon.
It shrieked at them loudly, sending a shiver down Ben’s spine.
One hundred paces, fifty paces, thirty paces, and the creature kept coming closer. Ben started to get nervous and drew his longsword at twenty paces. Then the thrum of Grunt’s crossbow filled the air.
The quarrel flew out and impacted the demon’s chest, disappearing into the thick muscle.
The monster uttered a strangled wail and collapsed fifteen paces from Grunt’s feet.
By now, the entire group was on their feet with hands on their weapons. The demon remained motionless.
Grunt, eyes staying on t
he creature, went back to retrieve his cup of kaf. “Always give it a few minutes before you approach the thing,” he advised. “If they stop moving, they are almost always dead. But relying on ‘almost always’ is a good way of getting yourself dead out here. It’s best to just wait a little bit if you can.”
As they looked around the open field, nothing else stirred. “Looks like this one was alone,” muttered Rhys.
“They usually are alone,” agreed Grunt. “The swarms form when there is a shortage of food or when there is an arch-demon.”
“An arch-demon?” asked Ben curiously.
“A big one.” The hunter nodded. “It gives the little ones courage, I guess. They follow it, and all of a sudden, you have a swarm. As far as I know, no one is sure if they communicate or just follow the big ones out of fear. However it works, be ready to fight. It’s not just the size and strength. As they mature and consume more life-blood, they get smarter. Maybe smarter isn’t the right word.” He scratched at his stomach. “Cunning is what I would call it.”
“Stay away from the big ones,” called Corinne. “Let Grunt and I handle those. They’re not for the inexperienced or the faint of heart.”
She was circling the fallen demon and examining it.
“See anything?” asked Towaal, ignoring the barb about experience.
Corinne shook her head. “Trying to tell if there is anything different about this one, but it looks like all of the others I’ve killed.”
“How many have you killed?” asked Amelie innocently.
“Plenty,” remarked Corinne.
Rhys cleared his throat then suggested to Ben and Amelie, “That does make some sense, about the arch-demon. If we face a swarm, stay away from the big one. Let the hunters or I deal with that.”
Ben nodded and Amelie shrugged.
Corinne snorted at Rhys. “Have you faced an arch-demon? They are serious business, extremely dangerous.”
Rhys raised an eyebrow at her and said, “Honey, don’t worry about me.”
Corinne coughed and her eyes opened wide. “Honey?”
Smiling sweetly back at her, Rhys responded, “I’ve been in a dangerous situation or two. I think I can take care of myself.”