by AC Cobble
He groaned and crawled out of the fleeting warmth of his bed roll. He stomped his feet into his boots to get them settled. Wrapping his cloak tightly around himself with one hand, he kept the other hand and the hilt of his longsword free.
The wind had continued to pick up through the night and now it was blowing steadily, bringing a cloud of snow with it. The ankle-deep accumulation crunched under his feet when he stepped out from under the tarps and began circling their camp.
Snow-heavy clouds obscured the moon and stars. The little light that got through illuminated the world in white and black. Flurries whipped up by the wind stung Ben’s face and blinded him between rapid blinks of his eyes.
He traipsed around, straining to see more than a few paces in front of him. On one side of the camp, he saw a log with a clear patch on it. Where Towaal was sitting, he surmised. He couldn’t imagine settling down in the cold and wet and waiting out the watch. Staying on his feet and moving were the only ways to stay alert and warm.
After three orbits of the campsite, he felt nature’s tug and shuffled further away from his sleeping companions. He found a suitable tree and braced for the cold when he adjusted his pants to relieve himself.
Teeth chattering, he looked around and frowned when he noticed something. Behind the tree, he saw a knee-high snow drift that accumulated next to a rock. Through the center of the drift was a gap slightly wider than his shoulders.
Finished, he shook quickly and then went to investigate.
Something had passed through the gap, he realized. He knelt down and tested with a hand and was surprised when he could feel indentions in the snow, like tracks where something had walked. He traced the size of the indention. It was too small to be even Lady Towaal’s footprint.
Eyes wide, he bolted upright. The snow was falling, which meant any tracks were fresh. They hadn’t seen any animals or living people since they left Free State. There was only one other being he knew of in the Wilds.
He rushed back to the camp and blurted, “Wake up!”
Towaal was the first to spring to her feet, still half-awake from her watch. The others were slower, but no one slept heavily due to fear of demons and the cold. Within heartbeats, all of the companions were standing and alert, weapons in hand.
“What is it?” demanded Towaal, looking around for signs of an attack.
“I found tracks,” breathed Ben.
“Tracks?” asked Towaal, confused.
“There shouldn’t be any tracks out here,” protested Grunt.
Rhys pulled a stick of firewood from their pile then wrapped a rag around it that he pulled from his pack. He doused the rag with the contents of one of his flasks then stuck it in the fire. The makeshift torch burst into flame.
“You’re drinking that stuff?” questioned Corinne.
Rhys smiled grimly. “I’ll let you try some later. Ben, show us these tracks.”
Ben led them out of the camp to where he had been standing.
He pointed toward the tree he was near and said, “I was standing here when I noticed them.”
Rhys hovered his torch near the tree. He paused when he saw a pale yellow stain on the snow. “You had better not be kidding,” he grumbled menacingly.
“Uh, that’s not the track,” Ben hastily explained. “Over there.” He redirected them to where he saw the disturbed snow drift.
This time, when Rhys moved the torch closer, they could all see something stout had brushed through the high snow. Leading away from the drift were barely visible tracks.
“Oh, damn,” muttered Grunt.
They all pressed close, hands on weapons as they examined the finding.
“This will be gone by morning,” mumbled Rhys, holding his free hand out to catch the steadily falling snowflakes.
Grunt, peered closely at the marks in the snow. “It could be demon. Hard to tell in the dark. A big one if it was a demon, mature. One thing for sure though, it’s a fresh track.
“How fresh?” asked Towaal.
Grunt poked his finger to the bottom of one of the indentions. “About a knuckle and a half,” he said, sitting back on his haunches and eyeing the snowfall. “Maybe a bell, bell and a half?” he speculated.
Towaal frowned. “I was on watch then, and wide awake,” she added quickly.
She turned and pointed to the log Ben saw earlier, thirty paces away. “I was sitting there. I should have seen anything nearby.”
“And anything passing here would have seen you,” said Rhys.
Towaal looked at him sharply.
“But,” Corinne said, “that makes no sense. I’ve never heard of a demon seeing a person and not attacking.”
“Demons get smarter when they mature, right?” asked Ben.
Everyone nodded. Grunt asked, “What are you getting at?”
“How big was this one? I mean, how smart would it have been?” continued Ben.
Grunt shrugged.
Ben finished his thought. “Maybe if it was a smart demon, it saw Lady Towaal and didn’t attack. Could it have been scared?”
“Scared!” exclaimed Corinne. “Of a woman with a belt knife?”
She shot an apologetic look at Towaal before continuing, “No offense meant. It’s just, why would a demon be scared of an unarmed woman?”
Rhys looked at Towaal. “Is it possible?”
She frowned, deep in thought. “Maybe. I need to think.”
No further answers came from Towaal, despite Corinne asking repeatedly. They all decided it was far too risky to try to track the demon in the dark, so they returned to camp. Rhys volunteered to finish out the watch. Trying to sleep, Ben and Amelie laid down next to each other.
“Do you think that’s true?” asked Amelie. “That it was scared of Towaal?”
Ben rolled onto his side to face Amelie. “What else makes sense?”
She didn’t reply. They both lay silently until finally falling into an exhausted sleep.
12
Bitter Cold
Knee-deep snow and a bitter chill greeted them when they woke. Ben’s breath puffed in front of his face in a white cloud. His cheeks and nose felt numb to the touch.
Rhys had already started stoking the fire. As soon as everyone was awake, he told them whatever tracks were there last night had disappeared under the freshly fallen snow.
Breakfast was quick and cold. They wanted to get moving as soon as possible.
Ben and Rhys untied the tarps and shook off the heavy snow. They were specially treated to repel water. They were sturdy, but Ben worried how much snow they could really take before leaking.
Rhys remarked, “We’ll need to find better shelter from now on. We can’t camp out in this every night and expect to stay healthy and rested.”
Towaal overheard and Ben saw her grimace. He knew she wanted speed, but speed was pointless if they ended up frozen to death.
Again, Ben glanced around to see if anyone was taking out his or her snow boots. No one did. Instead, Grunt went in front and broke a trail through the knee-deep powder and they all followed closely behind in his footsteps. By mid-morning, they switched and Ben took the lead. They rotated throughout the day so the trailbreaker didn’t get too exhausted.
At midday, a painful ache set into Ben’s legs and his toes were burning.
“As long as you can feel them, you’re okay,” assured Grunt. “When you stop feeling them, shout out. That’s when we need to do something about it.”
Ben groaned and stomped his feet hard. A jolt of mild pain shot up from where his frozen foot impacted the ground and he figured he was still all right.
After an afternoon break, Corinne took the lead and they kept following the same creek they had been for days now. It wasn’t straight. It meandered down from the north but had a wide bed. They made good time walking across the flat. Particularly now, walking through the trees would take twice as long because deep drifts of snow would form around the trunks.
Suddenly, Corinne held up her hand and
stopped. The group watched her silently as she edged forward. Ben knew there was no immediate risk because she left her bow on her shoulder.
She waved them closer and they saw another set of tracks. This one was clearly from a wide, low-moving creature.
“That’s no deer,” joked Rhys grimly.
“Obviously,” snorted Corinne. “My concern is what was it doing down here? The creek is small, but the water isn’t completely frozen yet. Demons loathe water. It didn’t come for a drink.”
They all looked around but couldn’t see anything other than white snow, steep, shoulder-high banks where the creek rose to during the season, and a thick forest of birch trees beyond that—nothing that explained a demon’s movements.
Grunt muttered, “Who knows why it was down here. Who knows why demons do any of the things they do?”
Corinne turned to him. “Come on, Grunt. You’ve tracked more of these creatures than I have. How many times have you found signs of them near water? They just don’t go near it.”
Grunt shrugged.
“I’m worried this is something else, something new,” said Corinne.
Rhys had wandered over to the creek bank and scrambled up it. He looked north and south then hopped back down onto the flat.
“It’s not something else, it’s definitely a demon,” responded Rhys. “But it might be new.”
He squatted down by the path in the snow and pointed. “You can’t see where the feet have landed very well because the chest brushed a lot of the snow and obscured the path. Here and here, you can see where hands went down.”
Ben walked forward and studied the marks Rhys pointed out. It all looked like holes in the snow to him.
“I’ve tracked them in the snow before, long ago, and this is what it looks like. This was a small demon. I estimate no more than waist-high standing up and maybe five stone in weight.”
Corinne eyed Rhys. Ben waited for her to comment or argue with Rhys’ assessment of the tracks, but she finally just nodded appreciatively.
Grunt interjected, “A demon that small is new, immature. They react in predictable ways. This…” He gestured at the water. “This isn’t normal.”
Rhys nodded. “That’s what I mean. This is something new, different.”
The rogue stood back up and adjusted his pack and weapons. “Up on the bank, the tracks are obvious. The demon has been following along this creek. It came down right where I did, circled in this creek bed, then climbed back up and continued on its way.”
Ben frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s scouting,” Rhys answered bluntly.
“Demons don’t scout,” objected Corinne.
“This one is,” replied Rhys.
They stood silently for a moment, contemplating what Rhys was telling them.
“I believe Rhys is right,” remarked Towaal.
“What do you know that you aren’t telling us?” asked Grunt.
“What Rhys suspected last night is correct, I think,” she said. “The demon scouted our camp but turned away.”
“Why?” asked Corinne. Her curiosity was winning over her desire to argue.
“It saw me,” answered Towaal.
“You think it could sense your power?” asked Amelie.
“I wasn’t sure, but I believe this track supports the notion. We are better off assuming it’s true,” replied Towaal.
“You need to come clean with us, now!” growled Grunt.
“Do you remember the spark Amelie made when we first met in Northport?” asked Towaal.
Grunt nodded hesitantly.
Corinne remarked, “Handy little parlor trick, right?”
“It’s not a parlor trick,” responded Towaal. “And I can make a much, much bigger one.”
Corinne frowned.
Grunt’s eyes widened in surprise. “A mage!” he shouted.
Corinne looked at him then back at Towaal in shock.
Towaal simply nodded affirmation.
“Wait,” realized Corinne. “If you are a mage, then what is she?” she asked, looking to Amelie.
“I’m still in training,” answered Amelie with a smile.
“I thought that was just some gimmick,” mumbled Corinne.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” demanded Grunt.
“Would you have joined us if I did?” replied Towaal. “People are suspicious of mages. They are nervous about what we are capable of. I’ve found it’s easier to only share that knowledge when it’s needed. Up until now, you didn’t need to know.”
The man frowned but didn’t answer.
Towaal continued, “You are right about one thing. An immature demon should not have the wisdom to be afraid of me or the foresight to scout our potential path. A demon that left tracks this size shouldn’t be acting like it is.”
“So, what is it?” asked Ben.
Rhys answered. “A swarm is led by an arch-demon. No one has been able to study the relationships closely, of course. There is speculation that the arch-demon is able to…direct the other creatures to some extent.”
“Direct them on a scouting mission?” asked Grunt skeptically.
Rhys shrugged. “That is the only explanation I can think of for what we’re seeing.”
“What does it mean?” wondered Ben.
“It means,” explained Lady Towaal, “that the demons are planning an ambush. They were smart enough to avoid our camp when I was awake on watch and they are smart enough to scout our potential path for a site to attack us.”
“It was stupid enough to leave tracks we could find,” pointed out Corinne.
Towaal smiled. “That is true. While they are displaying an unprecedented instinct for tactics, they are still beasts and not men. We need to turn it on them. If there is an arch-demon with sufficient maturity to think at this level, we should be very concerned. We need every advantage we can get.”
The rest of the day was filled with nervous tension. Grunt held his crossbow as they walked and Corinne kept an arrow nocked though not drawn. Ben and the others left the hilts of their weapons free, but there were no other tracks sighted and no incidents.
They stopped early that evening when they saw a concave rock wall beside the creek bed. It wasn’t quite a cave, but it was deep enough to provide shelter and prevented anything coming from behind them or dropping down on top of them, snow or demon.
Going about the normal evening tasks of settling the camp was difficult. Towaal instructed everyone to try and appear normal.
“The risk isn’t while the sun is out,” said Rhys, laying out his bedroll on a cleared patch of ground.
“Try to get some sleep now,” advised Grunt to Ben. “Rhys is right. Once the sun falls, we need to be on alert.”
At the risk of not appearing normal, all but two of them laid down to rest while the light was still out. They anticipated a long night ahead where they would pretend to sleep while waiting for the demons to attack. Depending on how long that took, they could be up all night.
Ben found he had trouble sleeping. He couldn’t stop thinking about a swarm of snarling demons descending on them.
They had made what preparations they could. With limited time and the frightening idea that demons may be watching them, they were limited in how ready they could be. Grunt and Corinne thought it would come down to an ugly, brutal fight—toe to toe, steel versus claw.
After several bells of clenched teeth and furtive glances into the darkness, it was Ben’s watch. Rhys pretended to shake him awake and mumbled under his breath that it was all quiet so far.
Ben sat and made a show of stretching. Once he did, he realized that his muscles and joints were nearly frozen from lying still in the cold night. He stretched in earnest while Rhys flipped back his bedroll.
Rhys passed him a silver flask and offered, “Something to warm you up.”
“Should I be drinking right now?” queried Ben.
“At any minute, a swarm of angry demons could be descending on this camp, tr
ying to tear our throats out and drain the life-blood from our bodies. We don’t know how many of them there are or when they might hit us.” Rhys looked in Ben’s eyes. “Have you ever had a better time for a drink?”
Ben shrugged and took a small sip from Rhys’ flask. He coughed harshly and handed it back to the rogue. The fiery liquor reminded him of Myland’s brew in the first Free State.
“Sorry,” apologized Rhys. “I’m saving the good stuff for myself.”
Rhys turned and crawled into his bed roll, keeping one side open and his longsword within reach.
Ben shook his head at his friend’s antics and moved to sit by a large boulder that had been tumbled down the creek sometime in the past. Ben’s role was to sit and keep watch for a few minutes then pretend to drift off to sleep on the boulder. He’d keep his eyes open just a slit and watch for any movement.
The rest of the party was lying down, pretending to sleep in their bed rolls. As soon as Ben shouted, they would be on their feet and prepared to fight. They didn’t think the surprise to the demons would be an advantage, but they hoped to lure them in while everyone was prepared. If you’re going to face a demon swarm, it’s better to do it when you are expecting it, and not get surprised later.
Ben noticed Amelie’s eyes reflecting the firelight and hoped that he was the only one who could see it. He couldn’t blame her. It was almost impossible to lie still and wait, bell after bell.
He smiled and winked at her. He chuckled to himself when her eyes snapped shut and faint snoring sounds emitted from her direction.
Relaxing as much as he could on the hard, cold boulder, Ben leaned back and rested his head against the rock that made up the shallow cave they were in. He put one hand on his longsword and tried to let the tension in his body dissipate. It wasn’t really working, but maybe it would be enough to trick a demon.
Half a bell later, he almost jumped off the boulder when a slender, dark shape quietly floated down from the opposite creek bank.
Against the white show, the profile of a small, winged demon stood out clearly in the moonlight.
Ben’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. He fought hard to not make any sudden movements. They wanted to be sure an attack was happening before showing they were ready.