Duel With A Demoness (A Huntsman's Fate Book 2)

by Liam Reese

  “What’s going on down here?” An old man demanded, staring at Collise.

  His eyes lit on her feminine form as well and a sickness flooded her mouth with saliva. She turned and sprinted from the old man’s leer as he called out to her fleeing back.

  By the time night had fallen over the city, Collise had managed to clean herself up a little and dry out, but there were still brown stains on the front of her dress that stank of human waste. Reaching the single room she shared with her mother, she took a deep breath, sighing as she opened the crude door.

  The low light revealed the poverty they lived in. Rotting blankets and moldy straw stolen from midden heaps formed a pair of crude beds they slept in. There was a small pile of wood, again stolen from the waste of others, beside a blackened patch in one corner. This was the fire that would heat the room, cook any food they might have and give off enough light for her to see her mother’s bitter face as she slept.

  “Where have you been?” her mother demanded as soon as Collise opened the door.

  “Just out playing, mama,” the girl said.

  “Out playing.” her mother echoed. “I wish I had the time to go out playi...” Her eyes widened as soon as she caught sight of her daughter. “What the...look at the state of you!” She screamed. “Covered in the Gods know what and that smell!” She wrinkled her nose.

  Collise cowered as her mother approached, fists curled ready to punch.

  “No, mama!” Collise cried, trying to cover herself with her arms as her mother slapped and punched her. “Please.”

  “I. Give. You. A. Good. Home,” her mother punctuated each word with another slap or punch. Even a few kicks landed as the heat started to build in Collise’s chest again.

  “”Stop it, mama, please,” Collise begged. “I might burn you!”

  Her mother stopped instantly, stepping back and staring at her daughter.

  “What, girl?” She asked. “What did you just say to me?”

  In a halting voice, punctuated by sobs and gasps, Collise revealed to her mother what had happened that day. Why she was filthy and what she had done to her potential attackers.

  “You’ve lost your mind, child!” Her mother cried with yet another slap. “Making up stories and the like…”

  Collise threw her hand at the far wall and unleashed a burst of flame.

  “Praise the Gods!” Her mother cried when she had finished. “Your father got you on me by force but his legacy lives on in you!”

  Cold fright dribbled through her then. What did her mother mean by that? Who had her father really been?

  “Mama?” She asked, uncertainly.

  “Can you do it again?” Her mother asked, eagerly.

  Her face was lit up with an expression of eager expectancy as she stared at Collise.

  “Go on,” she urged. “Light up that fire for me, girl.”

  Collise concentrated, trying to bring the fire from her hands as she had done before. She felt warm but nowhere near the heat she had when she had burned the boys alive.

  “Did you lie to me? Some kind of trick?” Her mother thundered, bringing her hand round across Collise’s face.

  The stinging slap made the heat explode from inside her chest, lancing along her arm almost painfully as she pointed at her mother.

  The grim faced woman went white and dropped to the floor as soon as she felt the intense heat billowing towards her. Flames leaped over her back as she groveled on the floor, singing the hair on her head as Collise screamed her rage. Looking at the corner of the room, she saw Collise had not only incinerated the small pile of wood but started to melt the stones in the wall as well.

  “Yes!” She crowed in triumph. “Yes! Finally. After twelve long years of this poor life you have finally shown you are your father’s daughter. A daughter of Tiernon!”

  “What?” Collise asked in utter fright.

  “King Tiernon took many of us from our homes. Kept us in cages for his own amusement and did to us what that boy wanted to do to you today, Collise. He put you in my belly back then but I never knew why. Now...”

  “Why, mama?” Collise asked in a dim voice.

  Her mother turned to her as if she was subhuman, staring at her with the same hate-filled eyes she had for years as a sneer curled her lip.

  “Can you not see what this means?” She asked. “Are you that simple it remains unclear?” Her mother grunted a laugh. “It means, simple Collise, that you have royal blood in your veins. It means with good old King Besmir out of the way, you can be queen!”

  Collise watched as her mother cavorted about their little room, muttering to herself and rubbing her hands together. She frowned, thinking as her mother plotted and schemed.

  How can I be the queen when Besmir is already the King? It makes no sense.

  Collise watched as her mother grinned and danced, her face alight with malice the like she had never seen. One thing Collise did know was that if she was going to somehow be queen, it would be her mother that was in charge.

  “It was the strangest dream I’ve ever had,” Besmir said when he woke beside Arteera. “I can’t believe how vivid it was.”

  “Hmm?” His wife hummed sleepily. “What happened?”

  “I was in the Afterlife with Cathantor,” he said folding her in his arms, “and Sharise the Goddess of the Sea. They said they wanted me to stop looking for a way to get to Porantillia and forget all about Joranas.”

  Arteera jumped, staring into his eyes.

  “What did you say?” She demanded.

  “I said yes at first,” Besmir admitted, “because Sharise...her voice was...impossible to resist.” Besmir frowned as he thought. “When I said I had to find him, get him back, her voice changed...it was terrible and frightening...what?” He asked.

  Arteera was smiling at him in a way he had not seen for months. She wriggled closer, pressing herself against him tightly beneath their blankets and wrapping herself around him.

  “Even if it was only a dream,” she muttered into his ear, “you defied the Gods for our son. I lov...ouch!” Arteera cried. “What is this?”

  Chill fingers raked through Besmir’s chest when he saw the bright red shell she held in her hand.

  “Besmir?” She asked as he rolled from their blankets. “Besmir, what is going on?”

  “We need to talk to Zaynorth,” he said, shaking. “That was no dream.”

  “So you believe the God of Afterlife and Goddess of the Sea told you not to seek Porantillia? To give up and return home?” Zaynorth asked as he turned the strange shell over in his hands. “And you said no?”

  Besmir nodded, looking from face to face as he did so.

  “Cathantor put that in my hand just before he sent me back,” Besmir said. “I met people there, Zaynorth! I met my mother and...” he trailed off, glancing at Keluse. “Others,” he added.

  “I believe you,” Zaynorth said. “However, why would the Gods seek to persuade you not to do this? Why not just make it so?” He asked, passing the shell back to Besmir. “Surely the Gods could erase all knowledge of this from us all?”

  “I don’t know,” Besmir said, “but Sharise said releasing Porantillia would mean the end of everything, so what does that mean?”

  “This is all pointless speculation,” Herofic grunted rudely. “We need to get to see this shaman, sort out Porantillia and get your lad back. Then we can go home and think about Gods.”

  Besmir stared at the old warrior as he squatted on a rock. The sun was already hot, the dry wind full of gritty sand that got into every crevice and annoyed the skin but Herofic seemed to fare the worst. He was burned a deep, golden brown apart from the tops of his ears and tip of his nose, both of which were bright red. His hair had lightened by degrees in the sun, changing from its normal black to a lighter brown as the intense light bleached the color from it. He was more irritable and grouchy than normal and Besmir had to laugh.

  “Oh that’s all is it?” He asked, chuckling. “Just ‘sort out’ Po
rantillia and go home?”

  “I will admit there might be a little more to it than that,” Herofic said, “but sitting here discussing it while I slowly cook is getting us nowhere. We carry on or go home. Which is it?”

  “Carry on,” Besmir and Arteera said at the same time.

  The pair looked tenderly at each other when they reached the same conclusion at the same time.

  “There you are then,” Herofic grunted, groaning as he stood. “Discussion over for now.”

  Wearily he lifted his leg up to the stirrup and bounced a few times to give him the lift to get on his horse again. It was not until his body crashed to the ground on the other side of his mount that anyone realized he was in trouble.

  “Herofic?” Zaynorth called.

  Besmir, Arteera and Ru Tarn shouted as well, each hoping the older man would get up and curse his own stupidity for falling. He did not. His horse stepped gingerly around his body as the whole group dashed across to his body.

  “Sun is being too hot,” Ru Tarn explained. “Must be getting him to shade quick.”

  Besmir and Zaynorth grabbed the hefty man by the arms and lifted him between them, half-carrying his body towards a shadowed area the Corbondrasi were attaching a canvas roof to. They laid Herofic on a few blankets and Ru Tarn squatted beside him, laying a feathered hand on his burned forehead, frowning. She paused then ran her fingertips down his skin, rubbing them together and sniffing the pads. Turning to Besmir with a shake of her head, the Corbondrasi ambassador told them,

  “Herofic not using the cream Ru Tarn has been giving you.”

  Anger and concern filled Besmir in equal measure as he stared down at his friend. He glanced at the concerned faces of Zaynorth and Arteera.

  “Stubborn old fool,” the king grunted. “Why wouldn’t he use it? How long do you think before he wakes up?”

  “Not being as simple as that,” Ru Tarn said with concern. “Sun can be killing if Herofic not doing what he should,” she muttered something to her countrymen in Corbondrasi and the feathered men danced off into the rocks. “Must be making stretcher to carry him,” she explained. “And hope he is being strong enough to live.”

  Besmir slumped to a hot rock, grinding his teeth in frustration at the added hold up. His eyes fell to Herofic’s hand, clasped tightly in Ru Tarn’s own before looking at her concerned face.

  If he doesn’t die I’m going to kill him!

  Chapter Twelve

  “Madam, you cannot just barge into the king’s residence!” Besmir’s housecarl, Branisi cried.

  “Can and will!” Collise’s mother muttered as she tried to shove her way into Besmir’s house. “My daughter is a child of Tiernon and has as much right to be here as the king.”

  Branisi sighed, signaling for the guards to throw this harridan out but urging them not to hurt her or the child that looked on with doe-like eyes. Not for the first time, Branisi wished Besmir had left another in charge of his affairs. True, there were a number of staff to tackle the day to day running of the country, but he had instructed Branisi to take care of his personal affairs.

  This is certainly a personal affair.

  “Collise!” The woman cried. “Burn them!”

  Branisi’s eyes fell to the girl, widening in surprise as she raised her arm towards the household guard. Her chest tightened as she waited for the child to do something but relaxed after a few seconds when nothing happened.

  “But mama…” The girl mewled.

  “Collise!”

  The girl stared in confusion as her mother was shoved rudely towards the doorway.

  “Leave Mama alone!” Collise called weakly.

  The guards reached where she stood, shoving her mother towards the door and back out into the street, pushing the girl as well. Branisi watched in satisfaction as the pair were steered out of the royal residence. It was not until one of the guards cried out that Branisi realized the child was dangerous.

  “I don’t want to hurt no one!” Collise cried. “But I can’t always make it stop!”

  Horror crawled through Branisi as she watched her friend’s clothing catch light when he dropped to the floor, rolling frantically while his comrades tried to extinguish the flames. His screams split the air as Collise’s mother watched with a sneer on her face.

  “Collise, stop, please!” Branisi called, locking eyes with the girl.

  She could see the fright and confusion in her face and felt a little sorry for her. It was obvious she was scared of her mother, even though it was Collise that wielded power. Collise’s eyes flicked from Branisi to her mother and back uncertainly but the flames died down, leaving the man to groan on the floor.

  “He needs a medic,” Branisi said gently. “Can I send for one?”

  “Let him die,” the wizened hag spat.

  Branisi ignored her, concentrating her attention on the child, realizing she would have to befriend her.

  “Your Highness?” she asked Collise.

  A little smile crossed her young face as Collise nodded and Branisi issued orders to get the fallen guard to a medic.

  “Thank you for that, Highness,” Branisi said. “I am called Branisi and am here to help you in any way I can.”

  “Then get us food,” Collise’s mother demanded. “And a bath. Clean clothes and soft furniture.”

  Branisi ignored the woman again, addressing her daughter directly.

  “What would you like, your highness?” She asked.

  If I can separate these two I might be able to make friends with the girl.

  “I am a bit hungry,” Collise said.

  “Then let us get you something to eat,” Branisi said, guiding the girl through to the kitchen. Collise’s mother watched her with narrowed eyes, fully aware of what she was trying to do.

  “Come on, mama,” Collise said as she trotted through the house.

  Her eyes darted from one wonder to the next as Branisi led her along a corridor, it was obvious she had lived poorly as she trailed her fingers along the walls, touching everything her eyes landed on and smiling.

  “Cook will get you anything you want,” Branisi said as they wandered into the kitchen.

  Nashal looked inquiringly at Branisi as she stared at the pair of filthy people that had just appeared in her kitchen. Branisi widened her eyes and nodded slightly at the cook who shrugged and waited.

  “What would you like, highness?” Nashal’s eyes widened at Branisi’s address.

  “Bread and cheese?” Collise asked. “Can I have that?”

  “Of cours...”

  “Stupid girl!” Her mother spat. “You can have anything you want and you ask for bread and cheese?” She sneered at her daughter before turning to Nashal. “Honey,” she demanded. “Some good meat and pastries, you must have some pastries here. Come on!” She added as Nashal stood there, hands on hips.

  “Bread and cheese, your Highness?” Nashal asked. “Do you want something to drink as well?”

  “Milk?” Collise asked, uncertain.

  “Good choice.” Nashal smiled as she started slicing bread and cheese.

  Collise’s mother eyed Nashal and Branisi as they charmed her simple daughter. Neither woman would meet her eyes and she knew what they were up to, trying to befriend her daughter, drive a wedge between them and control Collise.

  “Yes, love,” she said. “A good choice. You always liked a little milk, remember?”

  Collise nodded, smiling at her mother with a white mustache.

  Besmir stared in surprise at the verdant valley below him. Trees and shrubs in a range of greens provided shade for buildings and people as they went about their business. Vast fields, pregnant with crops, were tended and irrigated by the brightly colored Corbondrasi. In contrast to the rest of Boranash they had arrived in a paradise.

  The small party had been slowed by Herofic’s need to be stretchered but one of the Corbondrasi had gone ahead to get a message through to the king and queen that they had been delayed. Now a party of Corb
ondrasi in military uniforms greeted Besmir at the edge of the greenery, saluting them all.

  “Your Majesties,” the leader greeted them in Gazluthian. “Let us be caring for your wounded.” He gestured and a pair of Corbondrasi with leather satchels darted across to Herofic, assessing his well being. “Please to be resting here.” He gestured to a large, covered wagon. “Will be to river soon,” he added before saluting and issuing commands in the whistling tongue of the Corbondrasi.

  Besmir led Arteera up into the back of the wagon watching as she lowered herself gratefully onto a soft cushion. Jugs of liquid sat surrounded by goblets and Besmir poured them all a cup of chilled water lightly flavored with fruit. Besmir drained his gratefully and filled it again before slumping down beside his wife. None in the wagon spoke, exhaustion and heat having sapped their will. Almost as soon as Besmir had sunk into the soft furnishings inside the wagon, his eyes drooped and he fell into a deep sleep.

  When he awoke, confused and disorientated, Besmir discovered he had been moved while he slept and heard the telltale creaks and groans of a ship. The gentle sway of the floor beneath him and swishing of waves as they broke over the bow told him everything. A sense of relief washed through him then as he knew they were on their way upriver to the Corbondrasi capital.

  Besmir stretched and looked around the cabin which was well appointed and clean. Clothing had been laid out for him and he sensed the hand of his wife when he saw the choices included anything she favored him in. A gentle smile crossed his face as he dressed in a simple, white shirt and leather trews. The skin over his face felt tight and he reached up to feel where someone had treated his sunburn.

  Herofic.

  Besmir stepped from the room he was in straight out onto the dark deck of the ship. A froth of stars overhead glittered in the velvet sky and a lone gull cried to any who might listen as it soared high above them.

  “How is he?” Besmir asked as he approached his group of friends.

  Arteera leaned into him slipping an arm around his back and sighing. A cool wind whipped her hair around Besmir’s face and he breathed her scent in deeply.