by Ross Turner
He seemed grimly focused, by no means proud of what he’d done, but without regret all the same. They would have to kill many demons on their journey, but it wasn’t that that bothered him. He didn’t want to be the cause of any creature’s anguish, yet he’d had no other way to stop the beast. It was just something he would have to live with: that the most potent of his talents could only really be used as a weapon, coming hand-in-hand with terrible suffering.
“Thank you.” Isabel’s voice was hushed. She felt ashamed that she hadn’t been able to handle it herself, and that her barrier had faded. Concerned that she wasn’t going to live up to be the hero Zanriath was hoping for, her heart sank.
“It had to be done.” He concluded firmly.
“Don’t worry, you didn’t…it’s just…I know you hated it. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.” Lost for words Isabel held back her shameful tears.
“Don’t apologise.”
“Oh how touching. Really, you two are just lovely together.” Stood some distance away, concealed in the shadows, the small boy from the street in Aproklis had been watching the spectacle. He approached them complacently, smiling with the same evil grin Isabel recalled so vividly and eyeing the still steaming carcass of the demon-wolf reproachfully.
His voice maintained that deep, rough tone that sent a chill up Isabel’s spine. His mockery was obvious and the sneering look apparent on his face made his initial comment that much worse. “I’m a little disappointed, I must admit. Isabella, I thought the wolf would be easy for you, obviously I overestimated your talent.” He let slip a short disrespectful laugh. “You’re not as quick as I thought, my dear sweet Isabella.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” Isabel responded dryly, grinding her teeth.
“But I didn’t expect your friend to intervene so quickly! And so exquisitely for that matter! I wasn’t entirely sure of his abilities, but I’m pleased to say I don’t think he held back.”
“What can we do for you?” Zanriath took a step forward as he spoke, shielding Isabel with his own body. He stood confidently, his gaze locked with the child’s.
The response was as Isabel expected. The boy rocked his head back and laughed loudly.
“Oh dear. I’m going to enjoy talking to you two. Thank you for asking, but nothing, sadly I am not permitted, and alas, I must but depart your charming company. I simply wanted to see how you fared against my furry friend.” Glancing again at the wolf’s remains on the floor he broadened his wicked grin. “It seems at least one of you did quite well. So for now I’ll leave you, I have matters to attend to in Hinaktor. I’d like to pay your next little friend a visit. Have a lovely journey. I’m sure you will. I’ll leave you a few little surprises if I remember.” And with that, not waiting for a response, he turned and disappeared into the trees, fading away into the shadows in haste.
“I hate that boy already.” Zanriath said quietly and menacingly after his fading silhouette.
“So do I.” Isabel replied.
“I hope he was bluffing, I don’t fancy an ambush right now…” Zanriath said glancing round cautiously.
“It doesn’t sound like his plans for Hinaktor are much better…” Isabel surmised.
“Don’t worry. He doesn’t know who we’re looking for any more than we do.” He paused for a second, not really waiting for a reply. “We should go.” Isabel nodded and without another word they began to move quickly, knowing full well there could be more demons amidst the trees and shadows.
They started walking north, heading still for Compii Tower. They weren’t too far away now, but without their horses their journey was going to be much slower, and in the woods, even during the day, the hours began to blend into an eternity. It wasn’t long before they were running, darting swiftly through the trees. They ran beside each other, Zanriath steadying Isabel when she lost her footing. Oddly she was a little less graceful on her feet than him and he held her hand reassuringly and almost unconsciously as they ran.
Leaves and branches whipped past Isabel’s head and she ducked and weaved as carefully as she could to avoid them. Soon they were breathing quite heavily and their warm breath steamed in the air, but, driven on by fear, after several hours they had covered a fair distance.
Zanriath suddenly slowed to a walk, quietening his breathing and looking round cautiously.
“What’s wrong?” Isabel asked. She was a little tired but sensed his wariness and was careful to keep her voice almost inaudible.
“There’s something here, someone I think. Maybe the boy’s followed us…”
“I can’t sense him…” She said, probing a thought out between the trees. Though she was sure there were no demons, Zanriath still took a precautionary measure, more as a display of hostility than any real threat. A circle of flame erupted around them. About six feet in diameter, the flames roared unnecessarily loudly, but she was sure this would give whoever was watching, or following them, the message.
For a moment neither of them moved, and there seemed to be no movement anywhere outside the protective fire that surrounded them.
“Yes?” Zanriath called, projecting his voice beyond the roar of the flames, not aiming it in any particular direction. Again, for a moment, nothing happened.
“Maybe it’s nothing…” Isabel started. Then, in response to her notion, a small boy stepped from the shelter of a shrub, concealed by dim shadow.
“You.” Zanriath growled through clenched teeth.
“No Zan. Wait.” Isabel said placing a hand on his arm and squinting to see more clearly into the murky shadows. “It isn’t.” She was right. The boy was young, but not as young as the Demon-Child. With blonde hair and emerald green eyes, the Demon-Child’s body was no older than seven or eight. This boy however, looked about twelve and was dressed very scruffily. His plain shirt and trousers were loose and dirtied, hanging baggily and torn from his slender frame.
His eyes and hair were brown like Isabel’s, his short hair curly. Even in the flickering orange light an abundance of charming freckles were clear, spread across his face beneath his eyes and round up to his forehead. He appeared slim but with dancing shadows being cast across his uncovered arms Isabel could see he wasn’t unaccustomed to manual work.
“What are you doing here?” His voice surprised Isabel. It was sure and confident, oddly veteran for such a young boy, boldly challenging these two strangers.
“We’re travelling, heading for the coast.” Zanriath’s voice was testy. “What are you doing here?” He returned the boy’s challenge with his own, carrying his usual intrepid composure. But this didn’t unnerve the boy; he seemed to be truly curious. Zanriath let the flames die.
“How do you keep doing that?” The child asked moving forward slightly. His movements were precise and exquisite. It was as if he floated low over the ground. He made no sound, swift, graceful and elegant - much more so than Zanriath or Isabel.
“My name is Zanriath, this is my friend, Isabel.” She nodded to the boy by means of acquaintance. He seemed to consider this information for a moment before replying.
“Ben. Pleased to meet you.” He seemed polite enough. But then, unexpectedly, he turned on his heels and darted back out of sight. His movements were mystifying, absolutely silent, like he was walking on perfect velvet.
“What was that?” Isabel whispered to Zanriath.
“I don’t know…” He started.
“Why are you going to the ocean?” His voice startled them both and they turned to look behind themselves, taken aback somewhat. And there he stood, perfectly still, perfectly calm, not even out of breath, though he must have moved inhumanly quickly to get behind them so swiftly.
“Quite extraordinary.” Zanriath noted. “You’re very quick.” Ben laughed quietly.
“Thank you. But it wasn’t nearly as impressive as you think.”
“How so?” Zanriath enquired.
“Hmmm. First…tell me what you’re doing.” Now it was Zanriath’s turn to consider his options. Sh
ould he trust this boy?
“Ok then.” He replied after a few moments. His swift and seemingly impulsive decision surprised Isabel slightly. “We’re travelling to Hinaktor. We’re going to stop the demons before things get worse.” Ben didn’t reply. He stood for a moment, contemplating what Zanriath had said. Then, as he’d done before, he disappeared into the undergrowth. “Hmmm.” Zanriath’s hand came to his cheek and his forehead creased with thought. “Clever.” He said smiling slightly.
“What do you think?” Isabel asked. “Why did you tell him?” She clutched his arm with both hands and rested her cheek briefly on his shoulder.
“I don’t honestly believe they could be here by coincidence.” He replied mysteriously. Isabel pondered the thought for a moment before they heard a voice behind them once more.
“Okay. Fine.” Ben was there once again, where he’d been stood previously. They spun to face him.
“I’m impressed again.” Zanriath praised the young boy, smiling encouragingly. “Now we’ve got the formalities out of the way, are you going to give yourselves up?” Ben smiled back and nodded, seemingly not to Zanriath or Isabel, but more so between them.
“Okay. Fine.” Ben’s voice sounded behind them again.
“OH!” Isabel jumped forward, shocked. Ben now stood beside her; she hadn’t heard his approach. “What?” She said double-taking the two boys, confused and startled, looking back and forth between the two Bens. “How?”
“The stealth is a neat trick, but you two are quite something.”
“My name is Zhack.” The boy beside Isabel said by way of explanation. He was exactly like Ben. He sounded like him, looked like him, and even moved like him. Silently, delicately, like a ghost. It was as if they were one and the same. He moved past her without as much as a rustle to join his brother. “As you’ve probably guessed, we’re twins.”
“Uh-huh” Isabel replied rather unwittingly.
“Are you two going to join us then?” Zanriath asked calmly, again surprising Isabel with the ease of his trust in these two strangers. Perhaps there was more to his hunch than he was letting on. Though, the more she considered it, the more she realised how quickly and easily she had taken to trusting his judgement.
Ben and Zhack looked at each other for the briefest moment with equally cheesy grins and replied in unison:
“Why not?”
By late afternoon the four of them had crossed the northern boundary of the Great Forest and the shoreline was in vague view on the horizon. They’d made good time and they were moving briskly down towards the water in surprisingly high spirits. They’d talked non-stop for the past hour and Isabel noted that the twins had, firstly an incredible sense of humour, and secondly, absolutely unparalleled enthusiasm, though neither of these characteristics were in any way flaws, and she quickly grew to adore them. They also had an uncanny habit of finishing each other’s sentences, and that took a little more getting used to than their chirpy manner.
During the short time they’d spent in each other’s company Zanriath had filled the twins in with everything that had happened up to that point, and everything he’d told Isabel, but nothing more, stopping the instant they knew everything she knew. She wondered if there was a particular reason for his self-restriction. She also wondered again how he’d come to trust them all so implicitly, but then, why shouldn’t he? It appeared now that they were all in the same boat, regardless of whether it was coincidence or not.
“So, Ben, Zhack…what are you doing here? Isn’t it just a little dangerous, though I’m sure you could have hidden from anyone in the Great Forest.” Now it was Zanriath’s turn to question the boys. They’d listened eagerly as he’d told them his and Isabel’s story, and now he wanted to hear theirs.
“Our reason’s not nearly as impressive as yours!” Zhack replied. “We were deciding for ages whether or not to talk to you. But after you killed that wolf, which was amazing by the way, and talked to that boy, we sort of guessed the four of us were on the same page.”
Isabel realised that the boys must have been following them for quite some time before eventually introducing themselves. For some reason the idea unnerved her - that she had been watched so easily and remained unaware. It was Ben who spoke next.
“We lived on the outskirts of Aproklis. Our parents were killed by a pack of demons. Our father was a carpenter. It’s been our family’s trade for as long as anyone can remember.” That startled Isabel slightly. A carpenter? “Our mother looked after us while he worked.” The boy’s cheerful faces had suddenly become much more sullen, dampened by the retelling of their parent’s death. Isabel felt for them and she noticed a slightly pained look in Zanriath’s eyes also, though she couldn’t pinpoint the source. “We were on our way home from town and it was getting dark. We’d been running an errand for our father and saw the demons circling the house. Father’s shop was just outside of the nicer houses on the edge of town - the people that live there are richer. We lived above the shop.” He said, his retelling simplistic.
“We could hear screaming.” Zhack continued. “The demons must have been inside the house too. We knew we couldn’t do anything, so we hid in the woods and waited until they left and it was darker.” Zanriath and Isabel said nothing; they knew the memory was not at all pleasant for the young boys. “But the demons burned the house down. They’re smarter than we thought. Well, some of them are at least.”
“We knew we had a good shot in the woods. There are plenty of places to hide and plenty of game and fruit to eat.” Ben said.
“You hunt game?” Isabel asked, shocked slightly. The boys looked so innocent, she would never have thought of them as hunters.
“Yes. We have to eat.” Ben replied with a grin now, glancing briefly at his brother who nodded in agreement. “But not in the usual way, you know chasing animals down game trails waiting with spears and all that. We like to do things a little differently. And it’s much more exciting.” Isabel felt strangely nervous as the boys led them calmly to a small copse just away from the field boundary they’d been following. Zanriath leaned in to Isabel as they walked.
“This should be interesting.” He muttered under his breath. The boys gestured for Isabel and Zanriath to stand a little back, giving them a clear view of the copse as Ben and Zhack took up opposite sides of the small block of trees. Neither could see the other, and for a moment they both stood perfectly still.
And so began their demonstration.
11
Their display began oddly, to say the least. The boys both began moving simultaneously; the silence was eerie as they darted between the trees and sporadic rock formations amongst them. Isabel raced to keep up. There must have been a maximum of thirty, forty trees maybe. They slipped through with mystifying grace, circling through the extremities, never moving far from the tree line and keeping flawlessly out of the other’s line of sight, slowly moving closer and closer. Then, as they had done to begin with, they froze, not far from each other now, with only a few trees between them, focusing intently.
At this point Isabel couldn’t tell who was who. They looked almost exactly alike, with very few differences between them besides the fact that their freckles weren’t perfectly identical. The only way to tell the difference was by their clothes, and even they were similar.
“Who’s who?” Isabel whispered in Zanriath’s ear, not entirely sure why she felt the need to whisper when they stood so far away. Nevertheless, his reply was hushed also.
“I think Ben’s on the right. He has a rip on the back of his shirt.”
Then, all of a sudden, and with great elegance, Ben - or the boy they thought was Ben - reached above his head to a small branch and hauled himself effortlessly up the tree, flinging his body up as if without gravity. His movements were so natural, so elegant, his extreme speed astounded Isabel, and Zanriath even let out a low whistle of approval. The peculiar silence still remained.
Isabel gasped, unable to catch her breath as the boys really got i
nto their little game. Ben threw himself from the branch he perched on, launching into the open air towards another tree across a slight clearing. At the same time Zhack flitted out from behind his own protection, his hand whipping behind his back as he did so. What she hadn’t noticed was that, mid-flight, Ben had also reached for something on his back beneath his ripped shirt.
They both pulled out identical blades, throwing knives, small, elegant and slightly curved. With a spin, still mid-flight, Ben let fly his blade, as did Zhack, but from the ground. The whole thing seemed to take place in slow motion, yet in almost a single breath. The knives flew perfectly straight, spinning in the air, with blistering speed and deadly accuracy. Zhack wheeled backwards with a somersault, dodging Ben’s blade by a mere inch or two as it whizzed over his head. Ben however, could not somersault; he was still spinning, seemingly uncontrollably in his flight. Using the continuing twisting momentum, he’d created to fire his own blade; he reached forward and rolled round in mid-air as the knife flew towards him. He was facing the wrong way. He couldn’t see it anymore. Something had gone wrong. Isabel’s heart was in her mouth.
But with a strange phenomenal ease the knife skimmed past Ben’s side as he arched slightly away from it and, still reaching forward, moulded his fingertips round the handle before it could escape his reach. He landed perfectly on the branch of the tree he’d aimed for, but did not stop. Letting his momentum carry him forward he simply grasped a smaller branch with his free hand. The momentum forced him from behind the safety of the trunk, but his firm grip didn’t allow him to fall. Instead, he used the speed he’d built up to launch the blade right back at his brother, with blinding speed and once more, fatal accuracy.
Because of this new angle on Zhack’s position he could see his brother directly, yet again firing the blade at his brother’s head. But somehow, Zhack seemed to have been expecting a counter attack and within a split second had recovered from his stunning evasive somersault and calmly stepped to the side, catching the speeding knife smoothly in his fingertips, only an instant before spinning, following the blade’s momentum, and launching his own throw.