The Unexpected Demon

by Simon Waldock

  The Unexpected Demon

  Book 1 of the ‘Towermaster’ series

  Simon J. Waldock

  ©Simon J. Waldock 2019

  All rights reserved, no copying of any portion of this book without permission, contact details under author biography.

  Dedication

  To my wife, Sarah, who is my inspiration and my rock

  And to Giselle Marks my editor, and Helen Lashbrook my main beta who have picked up all my mistakes; and to all the lovely people on Sarah’s blog who have made excellent constructive criticism.

  Simon resides in Suffolk under the sign of the cat’s foot in all senses. He shares the state of cat slavery with his wife, whom he calls ‘She-who-must-be-obeyed.’

  Simon has struggled all his life with autism, at the Asperger’s end of the spectrum, which has contributed to other problems, not least severe depression. He started writing short stories on fanfiction to counter the depression, and found a sudden need to write a novel, which became ‘The Unexpected Demon.’

  The sequel, tentatively named ‘The Elf Question’ is under construction, and Simon hopes to go back to his science fiction stories about the harried Mr. Bester in the Imperial Office of Standardisation and write enough to put together in a book. He is not yet sure how much there is to be written about Castamir the Towermaster but he has no doubt that his muse will let him know in due course.

  Simon claims that after thorough editing any mistakes which remain are, like those in his wife’s works, the result of cat-induced editing syndrome.

  You may wish to participate as a beta reader and get an advanced look at Simon’s work in draft form on his wife’s blog at

  https://mywipwriting.blogspot.com/

  Chapter 1

  "Don't send me back, I'll do whatever you want!" This plea came from the female demon sprawled inside the protective magic circle which was the locus of the summoning spell. However, she wasn't the demon I had been in the process of summoning.

  This demon had long dark hair, petite, very pale skin, good looking rather than beautiful albeit in an alien sort of way. The small horns on her forehead and the barbed tail were a final giveaway as to her true nature. She looked very distressed with numerous wounds and the little clothing she wore torn and disarranged showing that she was indeed female.

  I stood stunned for a moment, wondering what had happened and how. Then I realised I had to do something quickly. The protective circle I had conjured was only capable of holding the least ranked demon I intended summoning. This girl . . . this demon, I must remember she is a demon, is probably more powerful and capable of escaping the circle and killing me, wizard though I am. Without the protection of a circle, I must kill her, banish her back to where she came, or . . . make a bargain with her.

  What did my old master Harmon say about making a deal with demons, ah yes, “don't,” he said. Don't make deals with demons. Don't make deals with demons, devils, dragons or dwarves. In fact, don't make deals with anything beginning with D. Although dormice might be alright. Still he continued, you are probably going to want to make a deal with at least one of them at some point so decide very carefully what bargain you are going to make before you need to make it.

  I recalled one of the bargains Harmon made me work out as an exercise and turned to the girl . . . demon, concentrated and spoke very carefully,

  "Do you swear to obey my commands, save where that would cause your destruction, do you also swear not to harm me, my property or my guests? Do you swear this by your Name?"

  "I swear this by my Name," she replied tremulously.

  "In return," I said, "I swear by the goddess of magic not to return you from whence I summoned you providing you do not break your oath."

  "Thank you master, I will do whatever you say." The girl . . . demon, was grovelling in my magic circle as she said this.

  "Come with me," I said, cancelling the circle, "and I'll find you something to wear."

  You might be asking yourselves what was I doing summoning a demon. At this point, I was asking myself the same question.

  I had intended to summon one of the least demons, a vaguely humanoid, four-foot-tall, bundle of teeth, claws and malice, covered in scales and with a bit more intelligence than a village idiot. That would put it leagues ahead of Lord Pennover who was the reason behind my, abortive, demon summoning.

  Let me explain, Lord Pennover likes to wander his demesne 'to discover the tribulations of the common people' or as I put it, 'to see if he can find any good looking peasant girls he can get into his bed without having to pay too much'. Four days ago, Lord Pennover stopped to rest by a forest pool. My thoughts that he went to see if there were any village maidens (or otherwise) bathing there aren't really germane to the story.

  In any case, while there, Lord Pennover somehow dropped the amulet he was wearing into the pool. I don't know precisely what its powers are, but I'm sure that one of them is to allow Pennover's keepers . . . ah, valiant bodyguards, to keep track of where the noble lord is in case he loses them. Pennover then orders one of the aforesaid keep . . . valiant bodyguards to get his amulet back. Pennover and bodyguards then discovered why the locals call the pool Devilfish Pool. The unfortunate bodyguard stiffened, screamed and then dropped into the pool, dead. Devilfish pool isn't the lair of a devil fish, if there are indeed devilish fish, which I don't know, but of a giant electric catfish. Lord Pennover was unable to get any more of his bodyguard to brave the water to retrieve his amulet, surprise, surprise; so three days ago Pennover came banging on my tower door demanding that I get it back.

  My late master Harmon, and I still can't believe he's gone, would have told Pennover to go fish up a tree, pun fully intended. However, I have nowhere near the magical knowledge and ability of my master and Pennover is a son of Duke Brandell and the nephew of Dragovar, brother to Brandell and Royal Wizard. Who can be a nasty piece of work if he puts his mind to it.

  So, I have to get the amulet back. This brings me, I know, finally, to the demon summoning. Demons are all sorts of horrible things, but they are also almost immune to electricity. No, I'm not going to call it ground lightning, show a little sophistication. I was therefore going to summon a least demon and get it to go and retrieve the amulet for me. Which brings me to where I am.

  "Down the stairs and to the left," I told my guest, slave, minion, or whatever she was; and that I hadn't decided yet. This would bring us to the room my master's sister used to stay in when she was visiting.

  "By the way, what's your name?" I asked. She turned around with a look of terror on her face, her eyes wide. The overlarge pupils were round and the irises were vivid scarlet.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean your Name, your Truename." I added quickly. Knowing that would mean her existence was in the palm of my hand.

  "I consider that telling me your Truename would be a self-destructive command," I explained, "and that is not in my power to issue. What I really mean is, what should I call you?"

  The look of terror faded and was replaced by a smile, doubtless in relief.

  "What would you like to call me master, do you have a favourite name?" she enquired.

  "Do you have a, I don't know what to call it, a verbal identifier that other demons use to refer to you?" I asked.

  "Yes, but I doubt you could pronounce it," she said. That, or she didn't want to tell me what it was. I had to remember that, being a demon, she lied like she breathed. Still, no matter.

  "I will call you . . . Chessina. It's not a common name, but not outlandish." I decided.

  "Yes, master," Chessina replied.

  Master; it would do. I called Harmon master for many years, indeed I still think of him thus.

  "This room used to belong to my mas
ter's sister, Krissilla." I said.

  "Used, master?" Chessina queried. "Who does it belong to now?" I considered.

  "It's yours now." I said. "Make what use you can of the things she left behind. I don't suppose she'll be back."

  "Why not, master?" asked Chessina.

  "Krissilla blames me for her brother's death. It was an accident, his horse shied and he hit his head on a rock when he fell. His familiar was confused by Harmon's death and took too long to reach me. By the time I discovered my master's death his spirit had left the Hall of Waiting and was beyond the reach of any healing magic. He now dwells with the goddess of magic, Our Lady of Mysteries. However, Krissilla still blames me." As I spoke I could feel tears pricking my eyes.

  "Why are you crying, master?" Chessina asked, her expression one of genuine curiosity, causing me to bite back the bitter words on my tongue.

  "I'm crying because I miss him, he was my master and my friend," I said.

  "You are crying, because you are sad that he is dead," said Chessina, halfway between a question and a statement.

  "Of course I am," I replied with some asperity.

  "Oh!", Chessina still looked puzzled. "When another demon dies most demons are pleased. Their death means that there is now a chance of advancement to whatever position they used to hold. The dead one's allies will be annoyed as they have lost whatever favours or support the deceased could give them. But no-one is truly sad, even their enemies who might have wanted to kill the dead one personally."

  "Oh!" I said. "Go into your room and pick what clothes you wish. There are magical healing salves in the bedside cabinet. When you have finished I'll be in the sitting room. It's the big room two stories down. Then we will talk."

  "Yes master," said Chessina as I walked away.

  oOo

  I rose automatically from my chair when Chessina entered the sitting room. I did not remember Krissilla ever wearing that shade of dark wine red. Nor her having a garment slit up the side at all, let alone quite so far. It was cut after the manner of court dresses of course, low across the bosom and with some manner of collary thing that encompassed the upper arms, leaving the shoulders bare. As far down as the hips it was figure hugging and Chessina's figure was obviously worth hugging. It then flowed out in folds shimmering where the velvet pile caught the light. There was enough fabric in it, that the glimpses afforded by the slit were tantalising rather than blatant. I felt very underdressed in my black workaday wizard’s robe.

  I held the most comfortable armchair in the room and gestured for Chessina to sit there. She looked startled for an instant and then sat, gracefully while neatly tucking her tail beside her. It flicked seductively through the gown's slit. I worked hard on not noticing it and returned to my chair, it had been Harmon's favourite and was now mine. It was an imposing high back chair made of dark bronze-oak and much more comfortable than it looked, thanks to the cushioning charms. It also gave protection against certain forms of attack, as did the various magic items I had on or about my person.

  "I'm sure Krissilla never had a gown like that, and she is a much er larger lady than you in pretty much every direction." I said.

  "I altered the fabric," Chessina replied, "it's one of the things I'm good at. Do you like it?"

  "Yes." I said without thinking. I really must remember that Chessina is a demon. "It's very memorable. Now," I continued, firmly changing the subject, "I need to figure out what happened. I cast summon least demon to bring one to me."

  "I know," interrupted Chessina. "I saw the shimmer in the air that the spell causes. There were several of the malodorous runts there hypnotised by it and stumbling towards the centre. I ran towards the centre and managed to get to it before any of the runts did. Then I found myself here, with you, master." Chessina gazed at me with an adoring air.

  "What were you running from that made you so terrified?" I asked, doing my best to ignore her expression. An echo of that terror returned to Chessina's face.

  "I was being chased by someone . . . someone terrible. If I fell into his hands . . . well, whatever was on the other side of the spell had to be better than . . . him." Chessina shuddered and her hands went quite white she was clenching them so tightly.

  "How close to you was he when you hit the centre of the spell?" I asked, wondering what manner of demon was so terrible that he could inspire such terror in another demon.

  "He . . . wasn't chasing me himself. His has hunters to do that for him. The nearest hunter was some way away. Is that good?" Chessina asked anxiously.

  "I think so," I replied. "When something comes through that sort of spell, the lure part disappears completely. Any observer, unless very close, and an accomplished spell wielder, would have absolutely no idea of your destination. Which is just as well for both of us."

  "There's something else you might not know," I continued, "No being from the outer planes, upper or lower, can enter one of the middle worlds without being summoned. Not even a demon prince. He's not a demon prince is he?" a hideous thought had just struck me.

  "Oh, no," said Chessina. She looked somewhat relieved now. "He . . . is one of the lowest of the upper classes you might say. Your language doesn’t have the words for all the gradations. You don't speak the tongue of the Abyss do you?"

  "Not very well, no," I said. "I think I need to study that language seriously."

  "I can help you with that master." Chessina said. "No, he . . . I'm sorry master, he frightens me so much that I can't even use the, what did you call it, verbal identifier, without worrying if . . . he . . . might hear and I might accidentally bring him here." Suddenly, incongruously, she giggled. Giggled? I didn't know demons could giggle.

  "Verbal identifier, such a pompous phrase," Chessina looked at me, "you are rather pompous you know master."

  "You can summon other demons, can't you?" I asked, seeking confirmation of what I already knew.

  "Oh yes, but we only do so when we have no alternative. It creates an immensely powerful obligation towards the one summoned by the summoner and they could ask almost anything in return." Chessina's expression looked calmer now.

  "Did you have no-one who would come to your aid against . . . him?" I asked.

  "No. No-one I know is powerful enough to gainsay . . . him. Besides, he won me according to the customs. Nobody would lift a finger to help me." Chessina said, in a matter of fact tone.

  "Won you, what, in a game?" I was incredulous.

  "Oh, yes that happens a lot. Our, I suppose you could call them allegiances, get traded about between the higher ups." Chessina had relaxed into the armchair and seemed quite chatty. A chatty demon, before today I would never have believed it possible, now I had one in my sitting room.

  Chessina continued chatting, "All demons try to become part of the entourage of a powerful demon and then gain followers by trading favours. The powerful demon will then protect you and you support them with your followers. You try to get traded to a more powerful demon than the one you were with by promising favours to the demon that's trading you away. My mistress, my former mistress now, lost my allegiance in a game to . . . him."

  "If he . . . is so hated", I said, "and by the way, I'm getting fed-up with just saying . . . him, so I'm going to call him, I don't know, Fishface." Chessina's mouth dropped open at this. "If Fishface is so hated and feared why haven't the demons who hate him combined and moved against him?"

  "He . . . is very powerful personally, a mighty warrior, and a very good officer in the War. Do you know about the War between us and the devils?" Chessina asked.

  "Yes, I know about it. Among the mortals who know, it's called the Forever War. It's said it's been going on since the gods created the world, or some say, even before," I replied.

  "Anyway, he . . . is in high favour with one of the Prince's generals and nobody of the lower orders dares do anything against him," said Chessina. She suddenly looked at me very intently, "Master, you said earlier, that your former master, who is dead is now with the g
oddess of magic, is this true, and how do you know?"

  "It is true. There are spells that enable one to contact the dead and I have spoken to my master. He is with the goddess," I spoke solemnly to Chessina. "Why do you ask?"

  "Demons have no afterlife. If their bodies are destroyed on another plane it reforms after a while on their home plane, although I'm told it's very painful. But if they are killed on their home plane it's the end for them. We all fear death, except maybe the runts who are too stupid to realise. Killings are not too common, as the killer might be killed themselves in revenge. But he . . . delights in killing in the most excruciating and protracted ways possible." Chessina sat perfectly still as she said this, not even her tail twitched. She then burst into tears.

  I couldn't help myself, I got up from my chair, knelt down in front of her and put my arms around her. Chessina clung to me, sobbing.

  Chapter 2

  I held Chessina trying to soothe her. This is a demon I'm cuddling in my sitting-room, I must be mad.

  "Shh Chessina, think for a moment. At the worst all the hunter that was chasing you knows is that there was some kind of spell and you vanished," I said. "Do you suppose Fishface would be pleased with that sort of a report from the hunter?"

  "No!" Chessina replied. "Anyone who brought such a report would die horribly."

  "What do you think the hunter would do in that case?" I asked.

  "It would run away," Chessina said, confidently. She seemed calmer and had stopped sobbing.

  "It?" the query escaped involuntarily.

  "Hunters aren't male or female," Chessina said. "That way they can concentrate more on tracking."

  "I can see I need to read more about demons," I sighed. Chessina had stopped crying now and I got up and returned to my chair. She wiped her tears with a handkerchief that she got from somewhere in her dress. I didn't think there could be a pocket in something that clinging.