by Jon David
Morgalla had a gut feeling about the source of the commotion. The mood of the crowd was mixed: Some people were actually happy, others were sad, still more were angry. Being in a group like this almost felt as if she were helpless in the river again, being tossed around and at the mercy of some outside force. She chose a place and leaned against a building.
Morgalla studied the curious structure that was built in the center of the town square. It was a wooden platform that stood higher than everyone. Steps led up to the top with a tall arm that stretched high. At the top of it hung a rope with a strange loop at the bottom.
She overheard some conversations and, much like the souls around her, they were of varying subjects and emotions. Some people even started to argue their points.
“He’s a murderer,” one man shouted.
“He deserves a fair trial.”
“He got his fair trial.”
Morgalla also noted someone she recognized as Lindon among the crowd, holding a sign up. The sheriff had called him by name during her brief stay in his office. Lindon made eye contact with her for a moment before turning up his nose and walking away. She smirked.
After some time, Morgalla noted that more and more people with badges were surrounding the area. Some rode out on horses, and even Dillon himself stood outside his post, giving the crowd a hard look with his dark eyes. He issued some commands, and his subordinates charged into the crowd to enact them. The people obeyed, except for one. Lindon stood before the wooden structure, his hands on his hips and his chest out.
Dillon chuckled and stepped forward, his boots thumping on the brick street. “Move.”
“I refuse,” Lindon proclaimed in a loud voice. “This is an immoral act, and I’m here to…”
The sheriff wouldn’t tolerate the insubordination as his voice thundered across the silent crowd. “I said move your ass.”
“I’m not scared of you.”
Dillon was about to shout again, but he was cut off by uproarious laughter. He slowly glanced over his shoulder and saw Morgalla leaning against the building. Her face had turned red, and her sides were sore from the joyous sounds she was making. She hunched over, never having heard anything so funny.
Morgalla pointed at Lindon. “He’s scared shitless.”
Though the red-haired human had put on a brave face for the crowd, his soul was an open book for the demon in disguise. His ego was deflated, and he stood there with hunched shoulders.
“Enough,” Dillon commanded.
Morgalla fought hard to suppress the laughter, and soon it stopped completely when Camron Smalls was brought out in chains. The crowd erupted in boos at him. Deputies swarmed around the prisoner, convinced the masses might attack. Dillon displayed his large weapon and fired into the air. With a tremendous boom, the crowd was silenced.
“I will have order.”
Even though she saw it coming, Morgalla still jumped at the sound from the rifle. Through the silence, a woman shouted.
“This is wrong. He didn’t do it.”
“He got his trial,” Dillon shouted back. “This debate is over.”
Though the black mark was on Camron’s soul, Morgalla was still concerned. She studied Camron…who stood less than twenty feet from her.
“Did you do it?” she asked.
Camron’s answer was immediate. “Yes.”
The crowd erupted again. Those who had been objecting to the proceedings were silent. Some even froze in place with their mouths hanging open.
Camron was the most surprised that his soul had been an open book to the young woman. The deputies escorted him through the crowd and up the wooden steps.
A man proclaimed in a loud voice, “Camron Smalls, after being found guilty of the murder of Deni Santamaria, on this date you are to be hung by the neck until dead.”
Another man slid a black hood over the prisoner’s head and wrapped the rope around his neck. With a pull of a lever, the platform beneath Camron fell open, and his body dropped. An audible gasp erupted from the crowd, and some women screamed. For a brief moment, life remained in him, and then it was over.
To Morgalla, who stayed in the back, she could barely see what had happened and was unable to watch the body drop, but she knew from the absence of his soul, that he was dead. One moment the flame was there. Like a candle, it was snuffed from existence.
After the collective gasp from the crowd, the only sound remaining was that of wood creaking as the body swayed from the rope, motionless. Morgalla watched as many people bowed heads and placed their hands together. They spoke under their collective breaths.
Dillon spoke out for all to hear. “Okay, that’s all, people. Go home.”
A black cloud seemed to hang over the group. Morgalla threw her cloak over her body and wrapped her arms together tight. She felt her heart beat a little faster, pounding in her chest. She recognized the knot in her stomach, cueing her that it was time to leave. As she strolled away, the group became silent. In a collective state, they were apparently in shock at the happenings of the morning.
Dottie was awake by the time Morgalla had returned to the house.
“Where have you been, dear?”
Morgalla found it difficult to speak. “I uh…”
“You didn’t go to the execution, did you?”
Morgalla said nothing.
“Why did you do that?” Dottie asked.
“I…I guess I just needed to know if he really did it.”
“How could you tell?”
Morgalla was quiet a moment. “I asked him.”
Dottie frowned. She noticed Morgalla’s mood and placed her hand on the young woman’s shoulder. Being away from the melancholy mood of the townsfolk made Morgalla feel better, though.
Morgalla lay in bed listening to a strange sound coming from outside. She rose and walked to the window. Opening the curtains, she was shocked to see the sky was on fire, just like Hell. She almost fell back from the shock. The room around her had disappeared, and she was back in Hell, surrounded by red stone. She heard the sound of dracon coming from somewhere, getting closer by the second.
She ran as fast as she could, but the dracon were faster and gained ground. Morgalla tripped and braced herself for the worst, letting out a scream. The dracon, however, ignored her and ran past. Morgalla looked up and realized she was in the middle of town. The beasts of Hell tore through it and the streets filled with the screams of the townsfolk. Morgalla shut her eyes and covered her ears, but she still heard the sounds of terror all around.
“Get up.”
Morgalla looked and saw Delilah above her, weapons drawn and in the middle of a battle. She wore the black armor of Hell’s army.
Delilah yelled. “I said get up, child. I need you.”
Morgalla grabbed Hero in her hand and found the strength to rise. She was shocked to see that she too was wearing the black armor. Back to back with her only ally, she noticed demons were attacking from every angle. Delilah laughed at the joy of battle but it was clear with the two of them surrounded by enemies, their cause was hopeless.
It went dark, and Morgalla felt her arms and legs constricted, a pair of strong hands around her neck, choking the air from her. She struggled with all her strength, but it was no use. She could not break free.
Get up…wake up.
After what seemed like an eternity of suffering, Morgalla awoke for real. Her heart raced. She even felt it in her chest and ears. Soaked with sweat, she stood and looked around the darkened room. She caught her breath. Her mouth was dry, so she walked downstairs for a drink of water. Morgalla was about to sit down, but she sensed fear from above her. She marched back upstairs and noticed Dottie’s bedroom door open. Though asleep, the woman let out a moan and mumbled. Morgalla felt the fear from her friend’s soul.
Morgalla pondered what to do. Should she wake her? Would Dottie be offended that she was in her bedroom? She grew concerned for her benefactor.
“Dottie?”
There wa
s no answer.
Morgalla repeated, this time with more conviction. “Dottie.”
Through Morgalla’s special influence, she was able to reach out to Dottie’s soul and wake her. The old woman was shocked as her eyes flew open. She found her bearings, and her hand went to her chest to try and coax a sense of calmness over her.
Just a dream…it was just a dream…
Dottie sat up and focused on the doorway. Though barely any light in the room, she could see the look of concern on Morgalla’s face.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes…yes, sweetie. It’s nothing.”
“I don’t think so.”
“How come you’re up? Don’t tell me I woke you.”
Morgalla frowned. “Looks like this is the night for nightmares.”
They went downstairs. Dottie brewed some tea, and they sat in the silence and dark of her living room. Morgalla knew the sorrow from her companion’s soul. She didn’t want to pry, but at the same time, she cared about the woman’s feelings. As her frigid hands clutched the hot mug, she noticed Dottie staring at a photograph on the table.
“Who are they?”
Dottie paused. “…the girl on the right is Sera when she was twelve.”
It might as well have been a sting to the woman’s soul. Morgalla hung her head and frowned. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, you didn’t know. Robert and I had more than fifty years together. Just been difficult, is all, having the house empty.”
“Sera still comes ’round.”
Dottie set her tea down and took hold of the framed picture. She ran her hand down the glass. Morgalla could feel the dam holding back the emotions that wanted to come pouring out. It would take little effort to do so.
“Dottie I…”
Dottie pointed to the other girl in the picture. “This is Sera’s twin sister, you know. We lost her just a few months after this picture was taken.”
Morgalla’s jaw dropped.
“They were by the river, and Sera fell in. Mari did everything she could to save her, and she did…but Mari was swept away.”
The tears flowed. Dottie’s weak and elderly hand shook as it went to her face. Morgalla felt the woman’s sorrow and found it hard not to cry herself. The teacup shook in her hands, and she had to set it down to avoid dropping it.
Dottie continued, “Robert and I arrived too late…but I can still hear her…”
Morgalla didn’t know what to do, feeling a lump in her throat and twist in her stomach. She stepped to the end of the couch and put her arm around Dottie, joining her in misery, but she also remembered Delilah’s words ringing her head.
Never cry…never.
In the dark of the living room, Dottie finally cried herself to sleep as Morgalla tried to comfort her. The demon had found the simple act of embracing her friend was enough to bring some solace. Though she didn’t understand how.
16
The Savage Peak
When Morgalla rose the next morning, Dottie asked if she might be able to help out at the local stable a couple of blocks away. She stepped out the front door to feel the sun shining on her face and closed her eyes and smiled. The heat felt good.
She located the stable easily enough and was surprised to learn that Dottie’s daughter worked there. Morgalla still got frowned at with contempt from some of the locals, but it wasn’t as harsh as before. The person in charge put her to work doing manual labor, which was easy enough for Morgalla since she was stronger than the average human. She hung her cloak on a hook and did whatever she was told.
Morgalla was taught how to feed the beasts called horses and strapped the feed bag over each of their snouts. Though animals, she could still sense the happiness from their souls. Morgalla smiled as she stroked the muzzle of one of the horses. She felt the glare of someone watching. Turning to the stable entrance, she saw Dillon standing there. He had taken a bucket, turned it upside down and sat. Morgalla knew he was doing more than just relaxing.
“Good morning,” Morgalla said.
“Good afternoon.”
She hadn’t realized that it was mid-day. No wonder she was so hungry. She took a seat across from him in the hay.
“Dottie has a good heart,” Dillon began. “She’s also a good judge of character, but you’ll excuse me if I’m a little protective of my mother-in-law.”
“Your what?”
“My wife’s mother. I didn’t expect a demon to know what that was.”
Morgalla felt as if someone just stabbed her in the heart, and her stomach twisted. She was ready to summon Hero.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dillon’s eyes and voice were intense. “Drop the bullshit. Makrus has sent spies before but hasn’t done so in years. And they were far better at hiding than you.”
“How…”
“Shadow blade for one, that and the cloak. Your boots sure weren’t made by human hands. You also really hate the cold as all demons do.”
Morgalla glanced at Dillon’s sword, which still remained in its sheath. “You all have demon weapons.”
“Remnants of the great rebellion. The only way one can kill a demon is with a magical blade or black metal.”
“Your people have kept them…just in case.”
He nodded.
Morgalla sighed and swallowed hard, hurting her throat. “Why not confront me right away then?”
Dillon smirked. “You’re really terrible at hiding. What are your intentions? Your real intentions?”
“I wound up here by accident. I have no allegiance with any demon lord, Makrus especially. Never even met him.”
“Accident, huh? You plan on staying?”
Morgalla’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“I don’t know what it’s like where you come from,” Dillon continued, “but if it’s better than this place, I don’t understand why you don’t go back now.”
“Well, it has its ups and downs, for sure. Tell me, Sheriff, were your men going to come in here and attack me if necessary?”
Dillon smirked. “You can sense their souls.”
“Their apprehension. But they’re not afraid.”
“Can you blame me for being cautious?”
Morgalla didn’t reply. Dillon made eye contact with one of his men standing on the other side of the yard next to the barn. He waved him off, and the other three deputies followed.
“Now, what are your intentions?” Morgalla asked.
“You were at the meeting the day we met.”
“Yeah.”
“There’s a lot of fear going around, always has been, living under the shadow of Dracon Peak. We don’t know what Makrus has in mind or what his plans are…if any.”
“And you want me to find out. I doubt he would trust me.”
“You stand a much better chance of getting close to him than any of us. You have a skill that no human being does, the gift of sight. Something we’ve never truly understood.”
“Demons can see people’s souls, judge them at a glance, and know their true intentions. We can also influence them, like bringing out the truth.”
“That much I knew as well.”
“So why me? Send an ambassador or something.” Morgalla said in frustration, but then an epiphany occurred. “You want me to gain his trust.”
“Like you said, judge someone at a glance and find out what their true intentions are. If you’re uncomfortable…”
“Yes, yes I am. He’ll be able to see through me, and you know that.”
“Makrus is no fool, but I think he’s grown over-confident like his father did.”
“Seems to be a trait among most demons.”
“You haven’t even spent much time among your own kind?”
Morgalla frowned, getting back to the subject at hand. “What’s in it for me, Sheriff?”
“Ah, now you sound more like a demon.”
“No, more like someone who is taking a great risk.”
>
The sheriff smirked. “Some people hold a grudge against the Izari, but many prefer the idea of just letting them into town.”
“What do they have to do with this?”
“If everyone still thinks that’s what you are, then it’s best. You might even be able to stay here. Does that sound appealing?”
“How many people know what I am?”
“Me and me only…for now.”
Morgalla knew he was telling the truth.
“And will you tell anyone else?” she asked.
“Not unless you want me to.”
He’s telling the truth.
“And what if I don’t do this?”
“I’m not giving you order or an ultimatum. But Makrus is still a threat to this town and everyone in it. If you’re going to live here, he’s a threat to you too.”
Dillon stood and walked to the exit.
“Answer me one thing, Sheriff. Does Dottie know?”
“Not that I’m aware of. I haven’t told her. She’s a sweet lady.”
“Yes, she is.”
Morgalla pondered more later in the day as she helped at the stable. In the early afternoon, she made her way back to Dottie’s home. The elderly woman was wearing heavy clothes, ready to go out.
“Oh good, you’re back, dear.”
“Yeah, what’s going on?”
“My daughter invited us over for dinner.”
“Us?”
“Yes, us.”
Her first lie. Morgalla could easily tell. Sure, Dottie’s daughter probably made dinner, and she had invited her mother, but with Dottie’s lie, Morgalla guessed she did not invite both of them.
Morgalla frowned. “I actually…have something to do.”
“What could be more important?”
“Well…I think I need to find out whether or not I can make this place a home…a real home.”
“Are you going back?”
“Yes.”
“Will you bring your friend here?”
Just the thought of Delilah in this town made Morgalla think hell no.