Dangerous Times (Skies of Fyir Book 0)

by Gabriela Voelske

  “You have to boil the fish first to remove that putrid taste, that’s where you went wrong,” the demon said, breaking the silence. “You were wise to avoid the standing water though, we either boil it or let it evaporate and then condense.”

  “You’ve been watching me then?” Amnur queried, in between sips of water.

  “Others have been yes; I don’t tend to venture much outside of Linlake myself, the swamps aren’t terribly welcoming to those that cannot fly.”

  “I also take it you know who I am,” the mage stated, approaching the topic swiftly to avoid his hopes being dragged out.

  “Amnur, the murderous mage, if you believe the rumours anyway; the opinion of the folk that live here doesn’t quite match up to that, based on their observations.”

  Amnur sighed at the first comment, but the rest gave him a sense of relief. Evidently, not everyone had given up on him, his choice to come to the West may have proved fruitful.

  “I’m aware Nathaniel was a tyrant, so I’m also willing to doubt the claims,” the old blood added, giving Amnur a pat on the back. The action made him cringe, so the demon paused to reconsider. Without asking, the large demon leant in and pulled Amnur’s top, revealing the old bandages. “That explains that, I didn’t touch you that hard.”

  Amnur let himself chuckle past the pain, allowing his companion to relax.

  “The name’s Crono, the newly appointed leader of Linlake, the northern village. I have a proposition for you if you’d be willing to hear it.”

  “Go on.”

  “We’ve recently suffered a significant angel attack, and if there’s one thing I know about angels, it’s that individuals will come to see the job finished. I would ask you to protect our home, in exchange for the ability to live here freely; within reason of course. Respect our ways, and you won’t get into trouble.”

  “I can protect, I don’t have a problem with that,” Amnur replied, surprised that Crono was so willing to put himself at risk when it came to helping him.

  “I’m not saying you have to kill every angel, a warning is plenty. Knowing them, however, it’s likely to result in a fight to the death,” Crono added to appeal to Amnur’s conscience.

  “Pride above logic,” the mage stated, seeing Crono smile.

  “First things first, we need to get those wounds of yours sorted.”

  Amnur felt himself being hoisted off the log as the demon stood up, being placed to rest in Crono’s arms.

  “I can walk, you know,” he protested.

  “In that state, I rather you didn’t; the swamp is a dangerous place to those in full health, without those starting to borderline delusional.”

  Amnur huffed, but he soon relaxed against the demon’s warm skin. The scenery appeared to change little as Crono walked, all Amnur could see were trees and the odd green sludge that seemed to cover them. He tried to look down at the ground, only to find his view blocked by the old blood’s thick arms.

  “Is there anything but trees here?” Amnur asked, causing Crono to chuckle.

  “Not a nature person eh? You’ll learn. The houses might provide you with a hint of familiarity.”

  Houses were a start, Amnur thought. He wondered how they were organised, did they live in a few communal houses or did families have their own individual houses? What materials were they made of and what facilities did they provide? Amnur doubted he would get his own house as he questioned if they just happened to have a spare house, but he would be more than happy with a simple, warm bed. As he stirred his thoughts, the skyline of trees began to give way to the actual sky, and Amnur soon picked up on the sound of voices. The voices hushed as Crono approached, examining the mage laid in his arms. Amnur became wary, but soon the voices started up again, trusting the demon’s choice.

  A massive wooden house started to emerge in the mage’s limited view, and soon he was inside, staring at the solid wooden beam which held up the ceiling. He was surprised at the detail in the carving of the structure, craftsmen of remarkable talent had constructed the building. Crono settled Amnur down on a bed that based on its size, was the old blood’s bed.

  “My home, or well, it will be; I’ve only just moved in myself,” Crono remarked, settling down on the edge of the bed. “It’s a communal hall, and I intend to keep it that way; I just offered to give up my home to those who needed it more, so I moved my bed in here.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but aren’t I stealing your only place to sleep?”

  “There are other beds, ones probably better suited to your size,” the giant demon replied, gesturing to the doors at the far side of the hall. Amnur nodded, glad that he wasn’t taking the kind demon’s bed. “Now, hang on there while I find a healer to fix you up.”

  Crono exited the hall, leaving Amnur alone. He stared at the door for a moment before opting to remove his sodden clothing, feeling a wave of relief once he stripped down to his underclothes. Amnur started to notice the fact he stank as he finished, now he was removed from the equally pungent swamps. The stench was one thing he imagined he would have to get used to if he was to live here, along with the feeling of dampness. One thing Amnur did notice was that the interior of the hall appeared dry, so he turned his gaze down and spotted the stone fireplace that sat in the middle of the hall. Cushions were placed around the hearth to allow demons to sit comfortably as they settled down around the fire, enjoying friendly chatter and a warm meal.

  He hoped that one day he would be able to join them and be accepted, revelling in the friendly chatter that spread around the fireplace. Amnur wondered what the residents of the swamp settlements were like, as Nathaniel or anyone else he had spoken to had told him nothing. So far he knew that they had at least one old blood, but based on what Crono had briefly mentioned to him earlier, he doubted that would be many.

  The sound of the door opening grabbed his attention back to the current situation, seeing Crono entering the hall with a new blood demon following him.

  “Good call,” Crono said, gesturing to the pile of clothing on the floor. He offered his new companion a hand up onto the bed, settling him down next to Amnur. The mage shuffled back to provide the healer with the room he needed, allowing the demon to move in and start dismantling the layer of bandages. As he pulled them off, Amnur cringed, and the demon flinched.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, don’t worry,” Amnur hastily replied to his benefactor’s actions. The healer took a deep breath and continued until Amnur’s wounds were completely visible. He leant in close and examined the lacerations, pulling a face of distaste.

  “How old are these and how long has it been since they were treated?” he queried, examining Dumon’s previous work.

  “Two and a half weeks to three weeks? I’m not entirely sure how long I was out for initially. As for the second question, one week, but that’s one week of active moving and living in the swamp.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself,” the healer remarked, grabbing a pad and covering it with an antiseptic salve, before thoroughly scrubbing Amnur’s wounds to clear them of any dirt. Amnur flinched as he did so, finding himself becoming increasingly light-headed. The demon continued, giving Amnur a thorough clean. One thing Amnur was thankful was that the musky smell had started to go, although he was too close to passing out to care for much else. Everything else that happened was a blur until it eventually went black, ending with a soft feeling connecting with his back.

  “Is he alright?” Crono raised an eyebrow, seeing Amnur pass out.

  “The fight to survive is no longer keeping him conscious, but he should be fine; just let him sleep and make him rest for a few days.”

  Crono nodded and allowed him to continue until he had Amnur fully patched up. He signalled to the large demon, and Crono gently picked Amnur up, taking him to one of the spare beds. Amnur was tucked in and left to sleep, while the two other demons finalised the details of his future treatment.

  ***

  Amnur woke up groggily, fee
ling a renewed sting in his wounds as he tried to move. The overbearing, constant draining sensation had begun to fade; evidently the result of his injuries being cleaned. He could feel the bed’s duvet on his skin and laid still, enjoying the comfort. The mattress was perhaps a bit worn, but compared to the damp, mucky ground of the swamp, he wasn’t going to complain. For the first time in a while, he allowed himself to smile, feeling keen about the future.

  “Feeling better?” Crono chuckled, alerting Amnur to the fact he was in the room. Amnur turned his head and saw him sat in a wooden chair padded with faded green cushions, positioned at the back of the room.

  “Still sore, but not as exhausted,” Amnur replied.

  “Enjoying the bed I see. Good, considering you’ve been advised to rest for a few days.”

  Amnur read his tone as he spoke, noticing him pause for a brief second before saying the word advised. He felt like the demon wanted to say ordered, but considered that he may be opposed to the word being used. The consideration was appreciated, and it heightened his already peppy mood. As he relaxed, he saw Crono scratch his head in thought. “Something wrong?”

  “Do you enjoy reading or anything? I could sit here and talk to you for a few days, but I feel you’d get bored of me.”

  “I do enjoy researching a wide variety of topics, if you have any books on magic or well, anything. I would think you have better things to do than sitting with me, anyway,” Amnur commented, “my condition isn’t too serious, I believe?”

  “Nah, whoever treated you originally did it well, and you managed not to piss off your wounds too much. Summer’s starting to come to an end, so it’s time to start processing food and supplies for the winter,” Crono replied, chuckling as the thought came to mind, “you’ve never seen snow, have you? Being from the South and all.”

  Amnur shook his head, and the demon’s chuckle continued. Based on what he was being told, he was in for a treat. It would be his first winter that could actually be called a winter; the southern continent was warm all the year round, the only difference was usually that the winter was wetter than the summer. Crono’s moment of amusement ended, so he gestured to Amnur that he’d be back in a minute.

  He soon returned with a selection of ten different books and placed them down on a table that sat in the room, before lifting it up and putting it down next to Amnur’s bed. “There’s more where that came from, so don’t feel you have to ration these ten books over however long you’re resting for. I’ll be back in a few hours, and we’ll have dinner then.”

  With that, Crono waved to Amnur and left him alone in the room. Amnur eagerly grabbed one of the books and examined it; while Shadekeep did have a vast library, he never ended up gracing its halls due to his fear of Nathaniel. The cover was old and leather in nature, with decorative flairs of metal. Hints of rust graced the silver of the metal, but the degradation appeared frozen. He gently pressed his fingers to the cover and felt a tingle of warmth, picking up on the preservation spell that had been applied. The title of the book was difficult to read, as the ink that sat in the precisely carved grooves had degraded before the spell was applied. Amnur tilted the book around, picking up on the words aether, weather and based on its length, phenomena. He opened the cover and was greeted by a wall of script, neatly written and evenly spaced. Conveniently for him, it was drafted in the common tongue by a human mage, based on the introduction he was reading at the start of the book.

  Hours passed as he flipped through the book, finishing it up and starting on the next. Amnur was amazed by the quality of the books that he had been presented; these were far more than just the odd book of magic that someone had kept for reference. They were specific, well-researched texts that aimed to either reinforce known ideas or promote new ones. By the time the knock on the door signalled Crono’s return, Amnur was just finishing up his fifth book. He had no paper to write down his findings, but that just meant he would have to read the books again, not something that bothered him. Crono entered the room and raised an eyebrow at the books, which had now been separated into two distinct piles.

  “You work fast,” he remarked.

  “They’re interesting texts,” Amnur replied with a smile, pushing the unread stack further away from Crono, in case he wished to replace the read pile. “Did you get everything done?”

  “Enough for one day. I’ve just started dinner, thought I’d check in to make sure you weren’t dead.”

  “Oi,” the mage laughed, “what are we having, anyway?”

  “Your favourite fish. Properly cooked, of course,” Crono jested; Amnur’s expression soured at the thought. “You’ll be fine. If anything you’ll be complaining because it’s too bland.”

  ***

  An hour later, Amnur had to admit the giant demon was right. The fish had been bland; he picked up a hint of sweet and bitter from a sauce that Crono had told him was made from berries, but the use of sauce had been sparse as their stocks were starting to run low. Bland he could deal with though, anything but that nauseating taste that he had experienced the first time. Crono was glad about that fact, considering he had to inform Amnur that their main diet was this particular fish, supplemented with meat and if they were lucky, ocean fish. Sometimes Abel or Na-ri went down to the coast and brought a wooden boat back stuffed full of fish, although Crono was unsure how they did so.

  Amnur made mental notes as Crono detailed things about the swamp that he thought the demon should know, the mage’s curiosity amusing Crono as he went. His new home was starting to become tangible, although he knew earning the trust of others was going to take time, given his reputation. Once people began to believe him, he would feel some relief. The idea of being able to make new friends excited him, he had missed the casual conversation.

  Chapter 21: The Twins

  Amnur had fully recovered, albeit with significant scars, by the time he encountered his first angel. His target was an older angel, judging by his toughened skin and his disposition. The mage kept himself hidden in trees as the angel passed, listening to his words as he went. He muttered about Uriel’s abandonment of the attack and his anger regarding the ignorance of his orders, then he complained about the stinking swamp, before finishing off with mutters about demons. Oddly, he had been muttering in common tongue, but it did let Amnur in on the angel’s thoughts.

  Amnur took his time in interrupting the angel, examining his possessions. The long sword sheathed on his waist was of particulate note. After his vital miscalculation with Nathaniel, he would pay closer attention to details regarding weaponry and the individual’s physique. He also looked for any indication of the angel of being a mage, but his heavy armour and gauntlet covered hands didn’t lead to that impression.

  The mage waited until his target was in a location with a suitable solid path before engaging him, dropping down far enough away for him to feel comfortable.

  “This is a friendly warning; leave, or I’ll be forced to make you,” Amnur announced.

  “Friendly, really?” the angel scoffed. “I didn’t come here with the intention of leaving empty handed.”

  “If you want to live, leave,” Amnur restated, but the angel only moved his hand down to his blade. “Very well.”

  Amnur opted to start with defence, to give the angel one last chance to back down. He crossed his arms and lit the ground between him and the angel on fire, attempting to showcase his strength. However, due to the damp nature of the swamps, his display was not as potent as he hoped. The angel noted the fact and levelled his blade with Amnur's heart, prepping himself to charge. His foot angled forward, and he lunged at the mage, keeping his wings tucked in tight as he sliced through the air.

  Using his experience with Nathaniel as guidance, Amnur quickly changed his focus to the angel's wings; compared to his armoured body, his wings were ripe for injury. Amnur clicked his fingers as he dived to the side, hearing the angel scream in agony as the blazing flames ripped through his feathers.

  "Cheap bastard," he spa
t. His wings had been reduced to little more than charred, bony protrusions with the odd ragged feather still clinging on.

  "Last chance," Amnur replied, calculating to proceed. His opponent kept his blade firmly held, however, if he was having problems with balance after the sudden removal of his wings.

  "I'm not being your example back at Eriden, not a chance," the angel growled, pulling himself up for another shot at the mage. This time he aimed to cut Amnur from the side, shredding his organs.

  Amnur allowed the angel to approach, swiftly moving in and shoving his blade arm wide. With his other hand, he placed it in the first open spot he could find on the angel's neck. A violent burst of magic erupted forth, dropping the angel on top of Amnur. Despite the height difference of around two to three feet, Amnur found himself struggling with the weight of the heavily armoured angel. His target was at least dead, so he had no risk of him suddenly attacking.

  Eventually, he managed to shove the body off him and allowed himself to crouch down to take a breather. He stared at the corpse, questioning what to do with it. The ground around him felt soft and pliable as he scratched it, so burying it would be an option. A second thought came to him, so he examined the angel. Would the settlements appreciate the metal from the angel's armour? It would only go rusty in the ground otherwise. He could always try; all they would tell him is to not do it again if they were against it.

  Amnur reached over and began taking the elegantly crafted armour off, stacking it in a neat pile. He placed the sword next to it also; although smaller, the weapon could prove useful to someone. Then he began digging a shallow grave, turning his nose at the odours that occasionally made themselves known. After a while, he had a hole he could place the angel in if it were a rather soggy hole. Somehow the mage doubted he would be able to find a dry hole anywhere, so the wet one would have to do. Given the angel's intentions, burial was probably more honour than he deserved. Still, it helped settle Amnur's conscience; he had tried several times to make him leave, the angel's stubborn pride leading him to his fate.