The Desert Spear (demon)

by Peter V. Brett

  Leesha laughed out loud, all fear of tears gone. She threw herself at him, hugging him tightly and kissing him on the cheek.

  “We did that in the light of day, Ahmann,” she said with a wink.

  “I am saddened to see you leave, mistress,” Abban said a few days later, as his wives packed up the last of the endless gifts Jardir had bestowed. “I will miss our conversations.”

  “And miss having the Palace of Mirrors to hide the comeliest of your wives and daughters from the dal’Sharum?” Leesha asked.

  Abban looked at her in surprise, then bowed, smiling. “You’ve learned more of our tongue than you let on.”

  “Why don’t you just tell Ahmann?” Leesha asked. “Let him discipline Hasik and the others. They can’t just go around raping whomever they want.”

  “Your pardon, mistress, but the law says they can,” Abban said. Leesha opened her mouth to reply, but he held up a hand. “Ahmann’s power is not as absolute as he thinks. Disciplining his own men over a khaffit’s women would sow discord among the men he trusts to carry spears at his back.”

  “And that’s more important than the safety of your family?” Leesha asked.

  Abban’s eyes grew hard. “Do not assume you understand all our ways after living among us a few weeks. I will find a way to protect my family that doesn’t threaten my master.”

  Leesha bowed. “I’m sorry.”

  Abban smiled. “Repay me by letting me build a pavilion in your village. My family has one with every tribe, to trade in goods and livestock. Everam’s Bounty has more grain than it needs, and I know there are hungry mouths to the north.”

  “That’s kind of you,” Leesha said.

  “It is not,” Abban replied, “as you will see when my wives haggle with your people for the first time.” Leesha smiled.

  There was a call from outside, and Abban limped over to the window and looked down into the courtyard. “Your escort is ready. Come, and I will see you down.”

  “What happened between Ahmann and the Par’chin, Abban?” Leesha asked, unable to contain herself any longer. If she did not learn the answer now, she likely never would. “Why did Ahmann seem angry that you mentioned him to me? Why were you afraid when I told you I mentioned him to Ahmann?”

  Abban looked at her, and sighed. “If I will not put my master at risk for the sake of my family, what makes you think I will do it for the Par’chin?”

  “Answering my question puts Jardir at no risk, I swear,” Leesha said.

  “Perhaps it does, and perhaps not,” Abban said.

  “I don’t understand this,” Leesha said. “You both claim Arlen was your friend.”

  Abban bowed. “He was, mistress, and because it is so, I will tell you this much: If you know the son of Jeph, if you can get word to him, tell him to run to the end of the world and beyond, because that is how far Jardir will go to kill him.”

  “But why?” Leesha asked.

  “Because there can only be one Deliverer,” Abban said, “and the Par’chin and Ahmann have…disagreed before, as to who it should be.”

  Abban went right to Jardir’s throne room from the Palace of Mirrors. The moment Jardir saw the khaffit, he dismissed his advisors, leaving the two men alone.

  “She has left?” he asked.

  Abban nodded. “Mistress Leesha has agreed to allow me to set up a trading post for the Hollow tribe. It will help facilitate their integration, and give us valuable contacts in the North.”

  Jardir nodded. “Well done.”

  “I will need men to guard the shipments, and the stores at the post,” Abban said. “Before, I had servants for such heavy duty. Khaffit, perhaps, but fit men.”

  “Such men are all kha’Sharum now,” Jardir said.

  Abban bowed. “You see my difficulty. No dal’Sharum will take orders from khaffit in any event, but if you would allow me to select a few kha’Sharum to serve me in this regard, it would be most satisfactory.”

  “How many?” Jardir asked.

  Abban shrugged. “I could make do with a hundred. A pittance.”

  “No warrior, even a kha’Sharum, is a pittance, Abban,” Jardir said.

  Abban bowed. “I will pay their family stipends from my own coffers, of course.”

  Jardir considered a moment longer, then shrugged. “Pick your hundred.”

  Abban bowed as deeply as his crutch allowed. “Will your promises to the mistress of the Hollow tribe alter your plans?”

  Jardir shook his head. “My promises affect nothing. It is still my duty to unite the people of the Northland for Sharak Ka. We will march on Lakton in the spring.”

  CHAPTER 33

  A PROMISE KEPT

  333 AR SUMMER

  “WHY ALL THESE RAFTS, if there’s a perfectly good bridge?” Renna asked, gesturing toward the nameless collection of huts, too few to even be called a hamlet. Each tiny structure had a raft out by the water, surrounded by wards staked into the bank of the Dividing.

  A few demons prowled the area, testing the wards on the huts, but Renna was wrapped in her warded cloak, and Arlen radiated such power that the occasional hiss and eye contact were enough to keep the corelings back from him as they walked along the riverbank.

  “Merchants who don’t want the bridge guards rooting through their goods sometimes pay raftsmen to take them across the Dividing,” Arlen said. “Usually because they’re carrying something, or someone, they shouldn’t.”

  “So we can hire one?” Renna asked.

  “Could,” Arlen said, “but that would mean waiting till dawn and dealing with more rumors. Can’t swing my arm in these parts without hitting someone who acts the fool ’cause they think I’m the Deliverer.”

  “Don’t know you like I do,” Renna smirked.

  “There,” Arlen said, pointing to a raft big enough to carry Twilight Dancer comfortably. There was a great groove in the riverbank where it was hauled up and down each day. He handed Renna one of his ancient gold coins. “Go and leave this by the door.”

  “Why?” Renna asked. “It’s new moon. He ent gonna see us take it, and even if he hears, he sure as the sun ent gonna cross his wards to run after us.”

  “Ent thieves, Ren,” Arlen said. “Smuggler or no, someone earns their keep with that raft.” Renna nodded and took the coin, leaving it on the hut’s doorstep.

  Arlen examined the raft. “Not even a ripping water ward!” He spat on the bank.

  Renna returned, kicking at one of the stakes. “These ent worth spit, either. Dumb luck much as anything, protectin’ these rafts.”

  Arlen shook his head. “Can’t explain it, Ren. Any ten-year-old in the Brook can out-ward most folk in the Free Cities, where they been raised not to trust anyone without a guild license to ward a ripping windowsill.”

  “Can you ward it now?” Renna asked, nodding at the raft.

  Arlen shook his head. “Not so it’ll be dry before dawn.”

  Renna looked out at the wide expanse of water. Even with her warded eyes, she couldn’t see the far side. “What happens, we try to cross without wards?”

  “There’s usually froggies that hide right at the bank,” Arlen said. “We kill those first…” He shrugged. “It’s a new moon. No light to shine on the raft from above and point us out to the river demons, so odds are we’ll get across the deep water safe. By the time we reach the far bank, the sky will be lighter and most of the froggies will have gone back to the Core.”

  “Froggies?” Renna asked.

  “Bank demons,” Arlen said. “Folk call ’em froggies because they look like big fly frogs, ’cept they’re big enough to eat you like a fly. They jump up out of the water and catch you with their tongues, swallowing as they drag you in. Put up too much of a fight, and they dive into the river to drown it out of you.”

  Renna nodded and drew her knife. There were fresh blackstem wards painted on her knuckles. “So what’s the best way to kill one?”

  “With a spear,” Arlen said, taking two and handing her
one. “Watch.”

  He moved slowly toward the water’s edge, emitting a shrill whistling noise. For a moment all seemed calm, and then the water by the bank exploded as a giant, wide-mouthed coreling sprang out. It gripped two stubby, webbed feet on the bank and snapped its head, shooting its thick, slimy tongue at him.

  But Arlen was ready and stepped easily to the side. The demon croaked and leapt fully onto the bank, covering some ten feet in a single hop. It shot its tongue at him again, but again Arlen sidestepped, this time charging in close before the tongue could retract. With a quick, precise thrust, he put his spear through the folds of tough skin at its chin and up into its brain, twisting sharply. The crackling magic lit the night as he pulled the spear free, and when the demon struck the ground, he stabbed down once more to be certain it was dead.

  “Trick is to get ’em up on shore,” Arlen said, returning to Renna’s side. “Dodge the first tongue, and they hop out of the water to try again. They’re good jumpers, but their forelegs ent got the reach of a spear. You can stab from a safe distance.”

  “Ent much fun in that,” Renna said, but she gripped her spear and headed for the water, trying to mimic his whistle.

  She expected it to take a few moments to get a response, but almost instantly the water burst and a bank demon was shooting its tongue at her from more than a dozen feet off. She pivoted out of the way, but she wasn’t quite fast enough, and the tongue caught her a glancing blow, knocking her down.

  Before she could recover, the demon leapt from the water, landing on the bank and trying again. She rolled to the side, but the tongue caught her about the thigh, slowly drawing her in. Renna dropped her spear to claw at the riverbank, but to no avail. The coreling’s mouth, wide enough to swallow her whole, was filled with row upon row of short, sharp teeth.

  Renna ignored it, turning instead to Arlen, who was already running her way.

  “You stay out of this, Arlen Bales!” she growled, stopping him short.

  She was almost in range of the bank demon’s teeth when she turned back to it. She flicked the sandal off her free foot and kicked it in the jaw with a flash of magic. The demon’s tongue slackened slightly, and Renna twisted, cutting right through it with her knife. As the coreling recoiled, she leapt to her feet, stabbing it in the eye. She hopped back to avoid its death thrashes, then moved in quick, putting her knife in its other eye to ensure the kill.

  She looked back at Arlen, daring him to criticize. He said nothing, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes glittered.

  There was shouting from the hut, and lamplight flickered in one of its windows, roused by the commotion.

  “Time to go,” Arlen said.

  The one was on the move. The coreling prince hissed in frustration, but immediately leapt upon its mimic’s back and took to the sky, following his trail.

  It had been a risk, letting the human live another cycle, but one the mind demon had deemed acceptable in hope that it might learn how the one had come into powers long since stamped away. The one killed drones nightly, but their number was insignificant, as were the weapons he spread. He was not a unifier, like the dangerous one to the south.

  But it was in his power to be. If he but called, human drones would flock to him, and if that happened, they could threaten the hive.

  And now he was moving with great decision back toward the human breeding grounds. The coreling prince was certain he would call to the human drones then, and a unification would begin. That could not be tolerated.

  The mind demon spent the remainder of the first night tracking the one. Just before dawn it reached the river and hissed when its prey came into sight. Nothing could be done now with the sun about to rise, but it would find them quickly the next night.

  The mimic dropped lightly to the riverbank, bending low so the coreling prince could dismount. As they began to dematerialize, the mimic growled softly, sensing its master’s anticipation for the kill.

  Renna and Arlen kept riding when the sun rose, passing a branch in the road with an old signpost a few hours later.

  “Ent stopping in the town?” Renna asked.

  Arlen looked at her. “You can read?”

  “Course not,” Renna said. “Don’t need to read to know what a sign on the road is for.”

  “Point,” Arlen said, and she could sense him grinning beneath his hood. “Ent got time to waste with other towns right now. I need to get to the Hollow quick.”

  “Why?” Renna asked.

  Arlen looked at her for a long moment, considering. “A friend’s got herself into a fix,” he said at last, “and I reckon it’s more than a little my fault for staying away so long.”

  Renna felt a cold hand clutch her heart. “What friend? Who is she?”

  “Leesha Paper,” he said. “Herb Gatherer of Deliverer’s Hollow.”

  Renna swallowed. “Is she pretty?” She cursed herself the moment the words left her lips.

  Arlen turned his head back to her with a look that mixed annoyance and amusement. “Why does it still feel like we ’re ten summers old?”

  Renna smiled. “Because I’m not one of these folk sees you as the Deliverer. They din’t see the look on your face after you clicked teeth with Beni in the hayloft.”

  “Your kiss was better,” Arlen admitted. She tightened her arms around his waist, but he shifted uncomfortably.

  “we’ll cut off the road soon,” he said. “Too many folk on it these days. There’s a path I know will take us to one of my caches for fresh weapons and supplies. From there we can ford the Angiers River and be in the Hollow in a couple of nights.”

  Renna nodded, swallowing a yawn. She had felt charged with energy after killing the bank demon, but as always, that added strength had faded away with the sun. She dozed in the saddle for a time until Arlen gently shook her awake.

  “Best dismount and put your cloak on,” he said. “Getting dark, and we have a few hours left to go before we get to my cache.”

  Renna nodded, and he pulled the horse up. They were in a sparsely wooded area with tall conifer trees spaced widely enough that they could walk on either side of Twilight Dancer. She dropped from the saddle, her sandals crunching on the forest floor.

  She reached into her satchel and drew forth the warded cloak. “Hate wearing this thing.”

  “Don’t care what you hate,” Arlen said. “Corelings are thicker this side of the Dividing; more towns and ruins to draw them. Treetops around here get rife with woodies, swinging from branch to branch and dropping on you from above.”

  Renna looked up suddenly, expecting a demon to be hurtling toward her at that very moment, but of course they had not risen yet. The sun was only just setting.

  As the shadows grew, Renna watched the mist rise slowly through the detritus of needle and cone carpeting the ground between the trees. It curled around the tree trunks like smoke rising up a chimney.

  “What are they doing?” she asked.

  “Some like to materialize up in the trees, out of sight so you don’t see ’em coming,” Arlen said. “They usually wait till you pass, then drop on your back.”

  Renna thought of the rock demon she had killed in similar fashion, and drew her warded cloak tighter about her, glancing up in every direction.

  “There’s one up ahead,” Arlen said. “Watch close.” He let her take Twilight Dancer’s lead and walked a few feet ahead of them.

  “Ent you gonna take your robe off?” Renna asked, but Arlen shook his head.

  “Gonna show you a trick,” he said. “Don’t even need your skin warded, you do it right.”

  Renna nodded, watching intently. They walked a bit farther, and then, as predicted, there was a rustle from above and a bark-skinned demon fell from the trees toward Arlen’s back.

  But Arlen was ready. He twisted and ducked his head under one of the falling demon’s armpits, putting his free arm around the coreling’s neck from behind, grasping it under the snout. With a sharp pivot,
he turned, letting the force of the demon’s own fall break its neck.

  “Sweet day,” Renna gasped.

  “There’s several ways to do it,” Arlen said, putting a warded finger sizzling through the fallen demon’s eye to confirm the kill, “but the principle’s the same for all. Sharusahk is about using their power against them, like wards do. It’s how the Krasians survived these last centuries, fighting alagai’sharak every night.”

  “They’re so good at killing demons, why do you hate ’em so?” Renna asked.

  “Don’t hate the Krasians,” Arlen said, and then paused. “Not all of them, anyway. But their way of life, making slaves of everyone who ent a man and a warrior…it ent right. ’Specially not forced on Thesans at the end of a spear.”

  “What’re Thesans?” Renna asked.

  Arlen looked at her in surprise. “We are. All the Free Cities. I mean for ’em to stay free.”

  The one had traveled far while the coreling prince waited out the day in the Core, but the mimic was swift, and it wasn’t long before the mind demon caught sight of its prey, walking his mount through a sparse copse of trees. The mind demon circled above, watching as wood drones attacked the human. The one killed these with quick efficiency, hardly slowing his pace.

  The mind demon’s cranium throbbed, and the mimic banked to the side and dove into the trees, its wings melting away as it took the form of a giant wood demon. It caught a thick tree branch before they had fallen far, smoothly pulling out of the fall and into forward motion. It swung easily from branch to branch, still carrying its mind.

  They came to a stop at a high vantage, watching the one approach. There was no sign of the female, though the mind demon could not recall her trail ending. It sniffed the air, tasting her. She had been about, and recently, but it could not sense her now.

  Pity. She would have been a useful tool against the one, and her mind was deliciously empty, yet flavored with powerful rage. A meal worth tracking after the one’s mind had been similarly consumed.

  “ ’Nother woodie ahead,” the Painted Man sighed as what must have been the eighth wood demon that hour swung into view. It was larger than most, almost too big for the tree branches to support. Closer to a rock demon.