by A. H. Lee
Mal remained quiet on Jessica’s arm. Lucy was clearly admiring the botanical artwork. Azrael stopped at last in the middle of a long bridge that looped its way across the water. Willow trees lined the bank, and water lilies dotted the surface. Beneath them, in the clear ripples swam the garden’s famous carp. The fish seemed to echo the fall colors—brilliant orange, blood red, ink black, sun-dappled gold. They glided beneath the water lilies, and Azrael stopped to watch them.
At last, Mal said hesitantly, “It’ll be sunset in a little over an hour…if you want to thread that gate.”
Azrael nodded. His eyes flicked up and down the bridge before returning to the fish. Jessica thought that he’d chosen this spot because it would be difficult for anyone to eavesdrop…and because the fish gave him something to watch other than their faces.
“I came from a remote village in the mountains of Zolsestron,” said Azrael, “It was destroyed by plague when I was about seven. When officials arrived to burn the remains, they found me—the only living creature among the dead.” He gave a bitter smile. “If that doesn’t make a good beginning for a dark lord, I don’t know what does.”
Mal frowned. “Who still knew your name?”
“I did, apparently, but I don’t remember any of this now. My rescuers tested me and found that I had some weak magic, which was thought to explain my survival. The school at Polois took me in as an act of charity and because a magical school needs magical janitors. The school’s existing janitor was an elderly recluse. He taught me my duties, but he was never what you’d call parental. Still, I could have ended up in much worse circumstances. A weak wizard with a known name and no guardians? Plenty of unpleasant people could have found uses for a child like me. I was quite fortunate.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Mal.
Azrael watched the fish. “It wasn’t. However, I was often lonely. I was a shy child, more interested in books and animals than people. It didn’t help that I inhabited a hinterland between the magicians at the school and the mundane staff. I was everywhere an outsider.
“By the time I reached ten or eleven—the same age as the youngest students—I was seen as a convenient target by those who felt they had something to prove. They were unlikely to get into serious trouble for tormenting me, and they made certain I knew it. However, the abuse was mostly verbal. Their physical assaults never went much beyond tripping me. I could perhaps have made friends with people like Wallace if I had actually tried.”
“I think you’re being hard on yourself,” ventured Jessica. “It sounds like an unhappy way to grow up.”
Azrael shrugged. “When I was thirteen, Tabs came to work in the stables. She was relentlessly friendly, and she wore me down. By then, it was also becoming clear that my romantic tastes might not be entirely conventional. I think the other boys figured it out before I did. Their small cruelties became more pointed.”
Jessica could tell that Mal was having trouble following Azrael’s vague statements. “They figured out what?”
“That he would rather sleep with men than women,” said Lucy.
Mal looked around at their faces. “Why does that matter?”
Jessica patted Mal’s hand. “Surely you’ve encountered that sort of prejudice before.”
Azrael shook his head, but Jessica continued to Mal. “You know that people have different preferences in bed?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, some people find anything they don’t enjoy repulsive—evil, even.”
Mal looked baffled. “I don’t understand.”
“Jessica,” said Azrael sharply.
“What?”
“He doesn’t need to understand.”
You’ve sheltered him from this, thought Jessica in surprise, on purpose.
“Not everything humans do is better than demons,” said Lucy quietly.
“I still don’t—” began Mal, but Jessica squeezed his hand again and interrupted.
“They’re right. There’s nothing to understand. People are cruel to those who are different from them; that’s all.”
“And I was different in more ways than one,” continued Azrael, “but, as I said, I recognize that some of it was my own fault.”
He drew a deep breath. “I had figured out I was a sorcerer long before I figured out I would have liked to kiss a boy. I was often tasked with cleaning up magical messes, laboriously turning their poorly splattered spells into ambrosia for storage and re-use. I can’t remember why I first dipped my finger in the stuff and put it in my mouth. It shouldn’t have done anything to me…if I was just a weak wizard. But I soaked up that magic like sugar in hot tea.
“That first taste was like a drop of water falling into a deep well—a well that was mostly dry. It had been inside me all my life with just an inch of water at the bottom. I realized that, with the right tools, I could fill it. And when I did, my well would hold more magic than any of those around me.
“Little by little, I started stealing ambrosia and magical artifacts from the school. I had to work slowly to avoid suspicion, but I never got caught. I learned the location of the rarest documents in the locked stacks of the library—documents that included the names of demons. I stole a key. I waited.
“Each time a student tormented me, each time I was the victim of a cruel joke or a nasty remark, each time a faculty member failed to stand up for me, I fantasized about what I would do when I had enough magic to call a demon. I was going to wreak havoc on the school and take my revenge.”
Jessica began to understand his guilt. She scooted around Mal to stand beside Azrael. Azrael let her take his hand without looking at her. “I did not intend to harm Tabs or the horses, of course, or the grooms or the handful of staff who played cards with us in the stables whenever the school was having a party. I didn’t have a firm idea of what would happen to those people when I took my revenge, but I did not specifically plan to kill anyone. However, I did intend to show the entire magical world that I was not to be trifled with.
“Meanwhile, adults with more complicated goals made their own plans. The school was right on the border of Bethsaria and Zolsestron on lands that had been contested since the sundering. Magicians on both sides made certain that the school was considered neutral, but somehow that arrangement broke down. Bethsaria became convinced that the school was a haven of spies from Zolsestron. The Bethsarian army attacked just after sunset one evening in the middle of winter. They came with mortars, cannons, spelled guns, their own magicians, detailed knowledge of the school and its defenses. They came with a plan.” Azrael was quiet for a long moment, watching the fish.
“None of that had anything to do with you,” said Lucy.
“It didn’t,” agreed Azrael, “but it felt like my fantasy playing out. I grew up that night. In about three minutes.”
Chapter 48
Jessica
“Did I get you out of there?” asked Mal.
Azrael shook his head. “Not immediately. I was fortunate to be in the basement of one of the dorms when the shells started falling. I was in the boiler room. At first, I thought someone’s class project had gone wrong. Then I thought someone was having a joke involving fireworks. Then the screams started, and I knew it was something worse.
“I came out, and the ground floor had a smoking crater in one wall. Half of the second floor had fallen into the first and the building was on fire. There were bodies—pieces of bodies. Students and teachers were running everywhere like scared rabbits. Someone jumped from a burning upper-story just as I ran outside. The body landed right in front of me.” Azrael clenched his jaw. His hand, limp in Jessica’s, went suddenly tight around her palm.
“I knew, right then, that I had been horribly wrong. Horribly stupid and naive. I never wanted to do this to anyone. Not a single person on that campus deserved what was happening to them.
“All I could think about was Tabs and the horses, so I ran towards the stables. Mortar shells were still falling. No soldiers yet. They were soft
ening us up. Fire was falling, too, and that was definitely the work of magicians. The kingdoms of the Shattered Sea had an agreement, even back then, that magic was not to be used in war. But the kind of sanctions that would enforce such an agreement had not yet been put into place.
“I passed the library, and it had already taken a hit from a fireball. I remember one of the teachers was standing in front of the building, just weeping. So much knowledge going up in flames. By then, I’d started frantically concocting a different plan. Perhaps I could save the school. I wasn’t thinking very clearly; I was in shock. I circled the library and entered through the maintenance stairwell—a janitor’s entrance; I had a key. The basement wasn’t on fire yet. I let myself into the locked stacks, and I stuffed the most dangerous looking volume into my coat pocket.
“When I reached the stables, they were still untouched. The mortars were focused on locations more likely to put up a fight. Tabs and a couple of the grooms were leading horses out one by one. The horses were panicking, and they had to be blindfolded. I went in twice. Then a fireball hit the roof and it went up like matchwood. Tabs ran back in. She thought she could get one more horse.”
Mal moved around Jessica and folded Azrael up in his arms.
Azrael allowed himself to be turned half around. After a moment, he brought his arms up to grip one of Mal’s. “I’m sorry I asked you to tell this story,” muttered Mal.
“I haven’t even gotten to you yet.”
“Did I make it all better?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, then I don’t think I want to hear it.”
“I do,” said Jessica. “How did you get away?”
“Well, the stable roof fell. A few horses came running out. Horses on fire. They were screaming. I was screaming. I think I lost my mind for a little bit. Finally, I looked around and didn’t see any of the grooms, nobody at all. Soldiers were starting into the school grounds. I could see them through the distant buildings. They were shooting people, attacking them with bayonets. Everything was chaos and blood.
“A horse ran past me—one of my favorites—and I grabbed him. His flank and one leg were burned, but he’d rolled in the snow, and he wasn’t on fire anymore. I grabbed his mane and vaulted up. He took off running, and I just let him go.”
“I thought the winters in those mountains were pretty severe,” ventured Jessica.
Azrael nodded. “As soon as we left the school grounds, we were struggling through deep snow. The horse ran into the forest, where the ground was at least navigable, but he tired quickly. The school was in a valley, and we were going uphill through trackless woods. I had to urge the horse on. I hated doing it. I was pretty sure he was dying. But I could hear gunshots in the distance, and I knew I had to keep going.
“The roar of the cannons and mortars finally stopped, and I heard only discreet pops. Some of those pops sounded closer than the school. I figured that the army had secured its target, and now they were hunting down fugitives. They had incentive to do this, since fugitives from Polois could be incredibly dangerous. Our attackers had only succeeded because the school had been taken completely by surprise. They couldn’t afford to let any of us get away.” Azrael drew a deep breath and added, in a more ominous tone, “As I demonstrated.”
“Is that when you summoned me?” asked Mal.
“Not quite. I struggled on all night with that poor horse. I tried getting down, but the snow was up to my knees. I knew by then that we were being actively hunted. I could hear dogs in the distance. Somewhere during that long, awful night, I realized what I had to do—my only chance to survive.”
“Me!” said Mal.
“I didn’t have any of the ambrosia or artifacts I had collected,” continued Azrael. “Those were in my room, burned to ash. I didn’t have enough magic to summon a demon, but I knew a spell that might give it to me. Dawn would be the best time to try, so I kept going.”
Jessica grimaced. “You had to kill the horse, didn’t you?”
“I had to kill something I loved. That’s how the spell works. It’s a trade.”
“I was summoned in the blood of a horse?” asked Mal, amazed.
“You were summoned in the blood of a friend,” said Azrael. “I didn’t even have a knife to cut his throat. I had to stab him with a screwdriver from my keyring. It was brutal. But I don’t think he would have survived his injuries—not after the way I’d used him all night.”
Mal hugged him tighter. “Did I help?”
“You did,” said Azrael. “You came as a panther. You showed me a cave where I could rest and curled up around me to keep me from freezing. You kept watch while I slept. When I woke up, it was day, and our pursuers were very close. I would never have gotten away if you hadn’t shown me a mountain pass, completely hidden in snow. You taught me how to confuse my trail. You knew the way to a village—two day’s journey over punishing terrain, but we made it.”
Azrael shook his head. “It seemed like you knew everything. You taught me spells you don’t remember anymore. You couldn’t perform them, but you knew the words. And you…you gave me someone to talk to. You seemed to know I needed that. You kept joking about killing me, but you were so kind. Even back then, even when you were mostly an astral entity…you seemed like my friend.”
Mal looked so sad. He put one hand against Azrael’s head and tipped it against his chest. “But I wasn’t?”
Azrael gave a bitter laugh. “Well, you did try to kill me. You were as good as your word. I didn’t think you disliked me, though. Isn’t that odd?”
“Not really,” said Lucy. “Astral demons don’t kill their masters because they dislike them. They just do what’s in their nature.” She thought for a moment. “Although some masters are easier to dislike than others. I take that back. Astral demons don’t necessarily dislike their masters. I’m not even an astral demon, but I’ve been instrumental in killing two of my masters. No regrets; they were horrible.”
Azrael spoke again, muffled against Mal’s chest. “When Mal first arrived, he remembered previous masters, previous summonings. He didn’t start to forget until he’d been here for about two years. That’s when the books tell you to send them away, and it’s for a good reason. As he began to forget his previous existence, he became more aggressive and more bitter. He felt like he was losing a part of himself. I suppose he was. He was forgetting everything from before this life. And I thought…I thought maybe I should send him back. For a while, I told myself every day that I was going to do it. And then I didn’t.”
“Why?” asked Mal. Jessica could not read his tone. “Because of that story you liked?”
Azrael swallowed. “That story had a lot to do with how I perceived you at the beginning, but a few years after we’d settled on the Shrouded Isle, I learned that it was probably fiction. No, I kept you because… It seemed to me that every experience you had had since the moment you stepped into my life was yours alone. Every emotion, every attachment, every way in which you changed—and you did change—those things didn’t belong to your entity. They belonged to you. I reasoned that these things made you a separate person—a person who would be obliterated if you returned to the astral plane. I couldn’t bear the idea.
“When you spoke of previous summonings, Mal, you spoke as though you were talking about someone else. The more I probed, the more I became convinced that you were another person in those other lives—that you had the memories of those people, but not a true sense of self when you thought of them. The part of you that had become my friend would die the moment I let you go.
“I thought, if I just kept you long enough, you’d become human enough to understand these things…that you’d want to stay. I believed your desire to return to your entity was simply an instinct—the same instinct that makes a child want to walk into the ocean or touch a naked flame. I felt like it was my duty to protect you from yourself.”
“I thought I was just really useful,” said Mal with a hint of sarcasm.
“You were,” whispered Azrael. “You are. And maybe I just wanted to keep you. I’ve summoned other astral entities and never kept them for more than a few days. But that was after the Shrouded Isle, after I’d established security. I couldn’t have survived without you for the first few years, and by the time I could have sent you home, it was too late. You had become a person. That’s what I told myself anyway. But maybe that was fiction. Maybe you never needed me to protect you. Maybe I just wanted to keep you and had to justify myself.”
Mal shut his eyes. “Don’t say that. I like the other version better.”
Azrael laughed. “Ironically, I came to believe that you threatened me for a similar reason—to protect me. You thought you could only avoid killing me if I sent you home first.”
Mal considered. “Maybe.” Jessica thought he might elaborate, but he lapsed into silence.
“Anyhow, that’s the story.” Azrael disengaged from Mal. “I quickly realized that there was no one left who remembered my name. All records from the school had been destroyed. Everyone who’d been part of my daily life was dead—everyone who’d seen me recently. Students from years ago might remember a slouching, tongue-tied child who cleaned up after them and who was known to be a pitiful excuse for a wizard. But nobody connected that ghost of a child with the sorcerer who single-handedly harried the Bethsarian army to a stand-still, assassinated quarrelsome council members, and cornered the king in his own bedroom to demand a cease-fire.”
Azrael rubbed at his eyes. “Heady stuff, but in the end, I didn’t have much stomach for that kind of brutality, either. It’s easier to seduce rulers, work out trade agreements, make them rich, and threaten them when necessary—much better and easier than sending fireballs through armies.”
Jessica leaned over and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you made it.”
This time, he hugged her back. “Well, I am rather hard to kill, as Mal can attest. Let’s go thread a gate.”
Chapter 49
Jessica