The blow never fell. Above Garet, a thin line of steel flashed across his blurred sight and buried itself in the remaining yellow eye of the demon, finding the only path that could breach the thickness of that burrowing skull to slice into its brain. The demon writhed like a fish on a hook, snapping the Duelist’s blade. She pulled Garet out of the range of that thrashing tail, and the two huddled together like brother and sister until the demon stilled, its upper body now dangling back into the pit from which it had crawled.
His head clearing now that he could breathe again, Garet turned towards the woman beside him. She stared with horror at the demon, her face pale in the dim light from the passage outside the entrance. With a groan, she released Garet’s arm and fell back, both hands now pressed to her ribs, her broken sword forgotten beside her.
“Are you badly injured?” Garet asked. “Can you walk?”
She bit her lip and shook her head, making no attempt to rise. Touching her ribs, Garet could feel them moving freely under the skin. Badly broken, he thought. He remembered Salick’s pain when her ribs were bruised during the killing of the Glider Demon; it would probably be better to bring Banerict to this woman than to try to drag her to the infirmary.
“Stay here,” he told her, perhaps unnecessarily, for she seemed on the verge of fainting. “I’ll get the physician.”
She nodded weakly and mouthed some words that Garet could not make out, but her eyes were worried.
“Don’t worry,” Garet said after a moment’s thought. “I—we won’t turn you over to the King.” He grinned at her. “You helped kill a demon after all!”
She smiled weakly.
“Perhaps,” he continued, “we should make you an honorary Bane.”
Her eyes widened in alarm, and she struggled to speak. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m sure your fellow Duelists would understand.”
He left her lying on the floor and stumbled out of the hall to find the others. The strain of the encounter was telling on his injured leg and he had to keep one hand on the wall to stay upright. No one was in the main entrance way. The doors to the courtyard were closed and only the night lamps lit to help returning patrols find their way to their rooms. But those patrols are still out in the Wards, Garet thought, chasing shadows as Draneck had boasted. He heard movement nearby and limped forwards, stopping at the first corridor on his right, one of two leading into the Masters’ rooms.
Looking down that dark corridor, he thought he caught a glimpse of light and shadow flickering at the end of the hall. He moved as quickly as he could towards it, one hand tracing the doors of the Masters’ rooms to steady himself. At the end of the corridor, he looked left for the light he had seen. It seemed to come from around a corner, from within another corridor in this warren leading back towards the main gallery of the Hall. It must be a dead end, he thought, for there was no third entrance that broke the wall of rooms at that point. He wished Marick were with him. His friend knew every corner of the Banehall. The thought of the missing boy increased his determination, and he moved forward towards the light, his hands still empty of weapons.
A grunting and the scrape of metal on stone stopped him and he peered cautiously around the corner. A man was on the floor, leaning against a door, groaning, not far from Garet. One hand pulled a small oil lamp along as he tried to inch his way down the dark passageway.
It was Adrix, Garet realized with a start. The former Hallmaster’s leg was splinted and wrapped in bandages. His face, as he persisted in his struggles, was tight with concentration. With another groan, he pushed the lamp ahead of him and inched his back across the wooden door supporting him. It was a moment before he realized Garet was standing over him.
“Who is it?” he rasped, holding up the lamp. His face darkened. “You! What do you want?”
Garet was silent. He stood looking down at the man, hatred and guilt struggling inside him.
“It was you who did this to me,” Adrix said. He dropped a hand to his immobilized leg. “Banerict tells me I’ll be as crippled as that clawed traitor Tarix because of you.” Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth as he raged at Garet. “You never belonged here! Crow! Mandarack should have left you to rot in the Midland pig sty where he found you!”
One beefy hand reached out to grab him, but Garet backed just out of reach.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice as neutral as he could keep it.
Adrix placed the lamp on the floor. The flame sputtered for a moment before settling back into a steady glow. “There’s something in the Hall, Midlander. Some demon, or maybe assassins from the King.” He passed a hand over his sweating brow. “Farix is dead. I called for him to bring me the medicine Banerict had given me so that I could sleep, but he didn’t answer. I finally crawled to his room and found the door smashed open.” His eyes bored into Garet’s. “They locked him in, you see, so he couldn’t run away. But thanks to your stone, they didn’t see any need to lock my door.”
Garet reddened a bit, but nodded for him to continue.
“Something had got in and cut him to shreds. He had no weapon to defend himself, just like me. That’s why you find me here. I’m looking for allies, some of my old friends who might protect me since your precious Mandarack won’t.”
Garet looked back down the corridor. It was silent, like the Gold and Green dorms they had checked earlier.
“Two Duelists tried to attack the Hall,” Garet told the exHallmaster. “They are the ones who drew off the other Banes with false reports of demons in the Wards.”
“Where are they?” Adrix demanded, the natural redness of his face paling at the news.
“One is dead and the other badly injured,” Garet told him. “A Digger Demon got them.”
“A Digger,” Adrix muttered. “No, that’s not what killed Farix, though it might have been what broke down the door. His wounds were more like a Shrieker’s.” He picked up the lamp and held it out to Garet. “I assume the demon is dead, or you wouldn’t be here. Take this lamp. Since I felt no demon-fear, Mandarack’s crackpot idea of a Caller Demon could be true. It might attack at any time. Try to force some doors and find weapons for us.”
Garet took the lamp cautiously. “I need to find Master Mandarack first, and my friends.”
Adrix’s eyes blazed. “Claws take you, boy! Are you a Bane or not?” he demanded. “Find us weapons and we’ll be able to kill this demon. Hesitate and it will escape to kill others.”
“I thought you didn’t believe Master Mandarack when he said that two demons could be in the same place,” Garet said. He looked at the injured man and waited for an answer.
When it became clear that Garet would not move without a response, Adrix reluctantly said, “It seems he was correct.” Adrix ground the words out, looking down at the floor. He raised smoldering eyes and asked between clenched teeth, “Does that satisfy you?”
“Yes,” Garet said. “It does.” He stepped over Adrix to try the nearest door. It was locked and so was the next. The first unlocked door led to nothing more than a bare room, devoid of furniture or other items. The next, however, showed signs of being used. The bedclothes were in a jumble at the foot of the bed and a cup of water sat half-full on the small table nearby. This must belong to a Master who was called out tonight in the middle of his sleep, Garet thought. Too befuddled to lock his door against mischievous Blacks and Blues.
No weapons caught his eye at first, and he threw open chests and cupboards in his search. Under the bed, he found a leather case which he dragged out. Opening it, he found a short, heavy club. It was thick and iron-bound, its point decorated with blunt spikes. The leather strapping on the handle was loose, and the wood showed small cracks, but it was a weapon.
He ran back to Adrix and handed him the club. “Here, defend yourself, if you can.” He helped the injured man down the hall, pulling him into the empty room. “Stay here,” he told Adrix. “Bolt the door. I’m going to find help.” Leaving the injured man lying on the flo
or of the room, he limped back down the corridor. He heard the bolt on the door of Adrix’s refuge slide shut before he was three steps away.
Now, to find the others and see if whatever shielded the fear of the Digger was within the walls of the Banehall. He guessed that power was not in the Digger, for when it was dead, the Caller’s jewel, according to Lord Andarack’s theories, should have returned to its normal, fear producing state. Something was still blanketing that fear.
He retraced his steps until he reached the back corridor. From there, he came to Arict’s room and turned back towards the front of the Hall, coming to a stop before Mandarack’s door. The door was locked and knocking brought no response.
Stymied, he paused in front of the door and tried to think. Where would they be? He needed help. Adrix was almost defenseless and the woman in the dining hall was badly injured. The infirmary, he thought, and managed a hopping trot to the main gallery, turning right and coming to the long corridor of the east wing. His footsteps rang in hollow tones off the stone walls. Never had the Hall seemed so empty—and so threatening to him.
A light glowed to his left, coming from the door to the Green gymnasium. But to his right, the door to the infirmary was open and also showing the glare of a lamp. He heard Marick’s voice from that direction and quickly made his way to the infirmary’s door.
“No, that’s not the way,” the young Bane said, his voice irritated. “Here, bend your head. Now, Banerict, together. Lift!”
Garet stood in the doorway, squinting into the room. At least a dozen lamps were lit inside the infirmary. Some were wall lamps, others were set on bedside tables or the floor. They illuminated a bizarre scene. Marick was standing on a bed, the mechanical Dasanat standing on the floor beside him. Banerict was on her other side, assisting Marick in trying to lower the helmet of the demon-proof armour onto the protesting mechanical.
Dasanat was already struggling to stay upright under the weight of the breastplate and back plate that hung on her like a man’s tunic on a child. She was trying to fend off the heavy helmet with her hands while Marick lectured her.
“Stop that, Dasanat!” he scolded. “How are you going to help us if you’re paralyzed?” He forced the helmet down and quickly secured the buckles before she could get it off again.
Her protests came muffled from the breathing tubes sticking out the back of the helmet.
“Marick, take this off. I don’t know anything about fighting a demon, I’m a mechanical!”
“Garet!” Marick cried, and jumped off the bed to wrap his arms around the startled Bane. Dasanat, deprived of support on the one side, fell over onto Banerict, who struggled to sit her on the bed.
“Are you all right?” Marick demanded, examining him hurriedly for wounds.
“Yes, I’m fine, Marick,” he replied. “What are you doing? Where are the others?” he demanded.
“It was my idea,” Banerict gasped. He held one hand on the side of Dasanat’s helmet, striving to keep her upright. “Salick and Dorict came here when they couldn’t find Mandarack. I think he went out with the patrols.” He sat beside the overburdened mechanical to support her better. “They went to check the rest of the Hall, and then Marick came, telling me about the attack in the dining hall.” His keen eyes scanned Garet, and apparently satisfied, he returned to his explanation.
Dasanat’s protests started up again, but they were stifled enough to ignore.
“Between Duelists and a Demon, we thought we were overmatched, so I persuaded Dasanat here to put on the armour.”
At this point much waving of arms from the mechanical threatened to slide her to the floor. Marick grinned and hopped back onto the bed on her other side to stop her fall.
“She demonstrated the power of Lord Andarack’s spark-powered jewel when she first arrived,” the physician said, “but I’m afraid Dasanat is still the only one who can operate the device. We hoped she could get near enough to your attackers to use our jewel to counteract the others. But,” Banerict tapped the helmet, “I knew from your reports that the demon’s fear could start again at any time, paralyzing both of us, so we were taking precautions,” he said, a satisfied smile on his face.
Shaking his head at the ingenuity of the plan, Garet told them of the deaths of the Digger Demon and Draneck, and of the injuries to the other Duelist. He thanked them for preparing to rescue him, although he knew by the time they would have finally arrived at the Hall, he likely would have been dead from one or another of the killers there. Mistress Alanick would have called it fate.
“Banerict, can you go to see to that Duelist? There should be no danger, unless the fear is let loose again.”
The physician was already gathering his materials. “Of course. And don’t worry about me. I have one of Andarack’s boxes here,” he said, opening his belt pouch to show Garet one of the small, silkstone boxes Andarack had given Relict. “I can remove the jewel immediately and place it inside so that I won’t be struck if the other demon withdraws its power.” He hefted a hammer and a thick chisel, dropping them into his basket of supplies. Garet nodded and swallowed, thinking of the recent re-breaking of Master Tarix’s leg. He could see the Training Master in a far bed, drugged to unconsciousness by the physician. Banerict swept past him, snatching a lamp from the table before he ran out the door.
Marick shot off the bed, leaving Garet to grab Dasanat before she tumbled over.
“I have to get my shield back from the dining hall!” he said, and ran after the physician.
Ignoring the mechanical’s pleas for release, Garet leaned her against the pillows and ran through the room, searching. Aside from Tarix, the other beds were all empty. Some of the oldest Banes had, at Mandarack’s request, moved back in with relatives in the Wards, to provide more eyes and ears outside the Hall and to help re-build the bonds of trust between the Hall and the city. Everyone else, that is everyone who could still walk on their own, was probably out with the patrols. Finally, standing in a back corner, he found what he was looking for. He grabbed them and ran back to Dasanat.
“Here,” he said, pulling her to her feet and fitting the crutches under her armpits. “Use these to keep upright. Now where’s the device?”
She lifted one crutch carefully off the floor and pointed towards Banerict’s room. Garet retrieved the tray of batteries and the silkstone box with its wires and imprisoned jewel. He urged Dasanat to follow him as quickly as possible, and the poor mechanical hobbled behind him as Garet moved out of the room, even with his limp still faster than the woman.
Once in the corridor, he looked up the hall towards the gymnasiums, where he had seen a light before. It was still there, casting faint shadows on the opposite wall as someone moved within the Green gym. He led Dasanat in that direction. She stumbled a bit in the gloom, but neither of them had a hand free to hold a lamp.
The light within the Green gym grew and steadied. A figure stood in the doorway, using a taper to light the lamps beside the door. Salick! Garet put the tray down on the floor and hopped towards her, leaving Dasanat farther behind. He reached her in a moment and grabbed her hand, startling her into dropping the burning candle.
“Garet!” she said, putting a hand over her heart. “You frightened me.” She pulled him inside the gymnasium where Dorict was coming out of the storeroom, struggling with an armload of training weapons.
“What have you found?” Garet asked. “Is Mandarack in the Hall?”
Salick started to answer and then stopped. The look of concern left her face and she smiled serenely. “It’s all right, Garet,” she said softly. “Everything’s all right now.”
And Garet realized it didn’t matter who or what was in the Hall. Demon or not, everything was perfect. He smiled back at her. “Yes, I can hear it calling.”
Across the gym came the clatter of wood and metal on the floor as Dorict dropped his load of weapons to stand slack-armed and grinning.
Garet took Salick’s hand. They left the Green gym and turned right, to
wards the peace and happiness calling to them. Someone said something, but the muffled voice was easy to ignore. At the end of the corridor, the door of the Gold gymnasium stood wide, the light from the hall lamps illuminating the way to joy.
They entered the gym and saw the demon. It was on the far side of the room, standing over the body of a Black, a small body that lay twisted and torn in a pool of blood. Training dummies and mats had been pulled to the wall to make a kind of nest. The creature’s snout was painted with blood, and its claws dripped with it. A single yellow eye burned in its face. It raised a hand, the sickles at the end of its fingers spreading in anticipation. The Banes smiled.
Hand in hand, they walked forward, seeing nothing but happiness. A small part of Garet’s brain said to him, you fool, it’s like in the clearing by the old Temple, only it’s stronger now, much stronger. It’s a false peace, fool. Stop!
But he could easily deny the voice; there was no joy in it.
They had crossed half the length of the gym when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him to the ground. He tried to get up but whatever held him was heavier than he was. Still bruised from the Digger, he couldn’t shift the weight. With a desperate wrench, he managed to twist around to see his captor.
It was Dasanat. The mechanical had grabbed him from behind and the weight of the armour aided her in keeping him from what he must reach. Salick seemed to notice the struggle and his missing hand for only a moment before turning to walk on.
Dasanat screamed within the helmet, the voice echoing oddly before reaching Garet’s ears.
“You have to fight it, Garet,” the woman yelled. “Oh Heaven’s shield, please, please fight it!”
He struggled again, but the mechanical’s arms were strong from their long acquaintance with hammers and the forge. He could not break free. With a groan of effort, Dasanat flipped him over to her other side, shielding his body with her own from the gaze of the waiting demon.
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