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

by Liam Reese

  “How is he?” Besmir asked the rake thin Pira.

  “Not good, majesty, I doubt he will recover from this.”

  Besmir swore.

  “Tell his brother we need to get him into the shade,” he said.

  Besmir took hold of the fallen Corbondrasi at the same time as Pira translated his words. Col Trin nodded and helped Besmir lift his brother. The Corbondrasi’s head lolled horribly and Founsalla leaped to support it as the two men bore his body across to where Zaynorth and Arteera were preparing a pallet for him.

  “Are you hurt?” Arteera asked in a high voice.

  “Not as badly as he is,” Besmir said as he laid Col Trin on the sandy ground his wife and friend had scraped flat.

  Besmir hugged his wife briefly, making sure she was fine before busying himself gathering sticks and logs for a fire. Arteera hacked some bandages from a spare piece of cloth, wadding more to absorb the blood leaking from the Corbondrasi’s head.

  Cal Trin knelt beside his brother, holding his hand and stroking the plumage on his head as he whispered gentle whistles and warbled softly to him.

  Besmir’s heart ached to see the love Cal Trin had for his brother, especially as he was laid low because of Besmir himself.

  Arteera made her way across to where he stood, slipping an arm around his waist.

  “This isn’t your fault,” she said gently.

  “Stay out of my head, woman,” he joked. “You know me too well.”

  “It’s true, though,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Still it makes me feel bad people have to die in order to save Joranas.”

  “I know,” she said, rubbing her hand over his chest.

  Col Trin’s labored breathing whistled from his throat, slowing as time passed, until he took his final breath four hours after he had been slammed from his horse.

  Cal Trin wailed, throwing his head back while Besmir and the others turned their faces from his grief. Once he had fallen silent Besmir turned back to see him cutting the plumage from his brother’s body with a knife. The Corbondrasi gently removed several of the feathers that sprouted from his forehead, clutching them to his chest. After a long moment of silence that Besmir thought he might be using to pray, Cal Trin rose and approached them, his eyes bloodshot and wet with tears.

  “Take this as sign you were friend to my brother,” Founsalla Pira translated the Corbondrasi’s words.

  Cal Trin passed a single feather to each of them before carefully wrapping the rest and packing them in his saddlebags.

  “Porantillia sent them,” Besmir said quietly.

  “What?” Zaynorth demanded.

  “The Oskapi,” Besmir said grimly. “One had the image of Keluse in his mind when I tried to control it. It had to have been her.”

  Zaynorth shook his head, an expression of disbelief on his face.

  “Don’t underestimate their savagery,” the old man said. “They are capable of despicable acts and wanton destruction.”

  Besmir knew Zaynorth held a grudge against the creatures known as Oskapi but had to make a point of what he had noticed.

  “Yet they were virtually ignorant of us once a few had been killed and the compulsion had been removed from their minds.”

  Zaynorth grunted noncommittally as Besmir turned to see Cal Trin readying his daasnu for travel.

  “Should we not bury him?” He asked Pira.

  “It’s not the Corbondrasi way, majesty,” the thin ambassador said. “Customs dictate the dead are laid to rest in the open to return their bodies to the cycle of life. Cal Trin will likely leave his brother here for the wildlife to consume.”

  Besmir felt a shock run through him until he considered the Gazluthian method of leaving the dead in holes dug in the ground was little different. Their bodies would be returned to the earth, just via a different method. He nodded and clicked his tongue, summoning Teghime to him. Within the space of a few minutes they were trotting silently northwest once more.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Buildings stretched off before her eyes as Porantillia strode down towards the abandoned city of Herintula. Centuries had passed since she had been here but the place remained largely untouched. Construction techniques honed over generations meant the dark stone blocks that had been fitted together had remained in place for the most part. Even where Porantillia had attacked the city, slamming her power through the walls and melting holes straight through the stone, the buildings had stood the test of time. While nothing remained of any of the organic materials apart from a few stains and any metalwork had long since turned to rust, the buildings were almost all intact.

  Porantillia felt a strange affinity with the place even though she had been trying to destroy everyone that lived here the last time she had stood within its boundaries. Almost like a homecoming she recalled the screams and fear as people scattered from her.

  How impressive. Keluse sent, her thought laced with sarcasm. Murdering the innocent with power they couldn’t stand against.

  Silence, woman! Porantillia snapped back.

  No. Keluse thought. My daughter was the victim of a bigger child who threatened and beat her friend Joranas. That child was a bully and you are exactly the same.

  Thy thinking is flawed. Porantillia sent back. My purpose was not to intimidate but to exterminate. All life created by Gratallach or his offspring is flawed and needs removal.

  The Goddess had been suffering from pains in the legs of her hijacked body for some time, none of which could be assuaged by use of her powers. At the center of Herintula sat what had been the mayoral home, larger building that had been decorated with carved animals and plants from the surrounding area. Porantillia made for it, her gait slow and pain great.

  What ails thy body? She asked.

  Exhaustion. It looks as if even you have to rest sometimes. Keluse said. Walking me for miles and miles for days without any sleep will do that to a person, you know?

  I find it difficult to believe such weak creatures managed to thrive as successfully as thy species did. Porantillia thought, her words laced with malice.

  The Goddess strode into the mayor's house, looking about. Dust and plant debris had gathered in the corners, carried there by the desert winds, casting a dusty, brown hue over the dark stones. She sat, resting her back against the stone wall and let her eyes flutter closed.

  Is this what thee had in mind? She asked Keluse.

  No answer came from Keluse as she had already fallen into unconsciousness. Porantillia grunted, still unable to believe such weak creatures could ever have been able to survive.

  Pre-dawn light greeted the Goddess when she finally woke, Keluse’s body stretching almost automatically.

  What? She wondered. What was that?

  It’s called sleep. Keluse explained. Don’t Gods and Goddesses sleep?

  I cannot believe mortals have to enter a state of unconsciousness to feel refreshed. Porantillia thought. The phenomenon is most disconcerting. Could one not be easily attacked?

  That’s why we have doors and buildings to keep people out. Keluse told her. Until someone comes along and starts melting through the walls.

  Porantillia ignored the comment, concentrating on the lack of pain coming from Keluse’s legs. How was it possible that a long rest did more to revitalize the body than her power could? It made no sense to the Goddess but she put it aside and stood, feeling only a few minor aches.

  So what now? Keluse thought as Porantillia guided her body outside the house.

  Now we send a welcome party for your best friend. Porantillia replied in a nasty tone.

  Keluse saw the large forms at the same time Porantillia did, fright clawing at her as she looked at them.

  So not all the residents deserted this city. Porantillia thought.

  What are they? Keluse asked in disgust.

  Former residents of this land. Porantillia explained as she approached the group. Mutated and changed by...my power. Porantillia thought with a s
ense of wonder.

  The Oskapi turned as they started to notice her approaching, baring their teeth and howling warnings at her. Porantillia sent a wave of energy at them, whipping each member up into a frenzy of hate and fear all aimed at Besmir.

  Keluse screamed within her mind as she sent the slavering quasi-animals against her friends but Porantillia ignored her, laughing as they loped off abandoning their crude homes and meager possessions.

  Porantillia looked at their homes as she strode past. Several buildings had been used for what looked like a number of generations. A midden pile of bones and damp waste matter built up at the back of each home. She saw they lived in family groups, each occupying a separate dwelling, the families filing out of their homes as each got the impression they were under attack.

  Incredible. Porantillia thought. Even after I killed almost every citizen here, some returned.

  Her sense of wonder sent waves of anger through Keluse who shot her own thoughts at Porantillia.

  This was their home! Of course they came back. What kind of thing are you to not understand that? You created life in other places but you’ve got no idea of what it is to live. If this is what you were always like, I’m not surprised Gratallach took another to love.

  Keluse spat the thought before she realized she was about to do so, instantly regretting letting it slip in her rant against the Goddess. Porantillia closed herself off, silencing her mind but Keluse could feel the swirling hate and despair combined with self loathing the being felt. That Gratallach had hurt her beyond belief was not at question but to consider it had been her fault, even in part, had never occurred to Porantillia in all her long years.

  When Keluse eventually started getting images and thoughts from Porantillia again they were filled with violent, vengeful ideas to cause harm to Keluse herself. The Goddess even considered hacking off Keluse’s hand while she still remained inside her as a punishment.

  Porantillia stood, statue still, in the middle of the Oskapi settlement and considered numerous forms of torture and disfigurement. From tearing out her blonde hair to slashing her face with sharp rocks, Porantillia considered each. Only a tiny portion of her remained rational as she thought of the horrific things she would do to Keluse’s body.

  Eventually Porantillia managed to calm her mind enough to rationalize the fact she would have to endure the pain of whatever she did to Keluse as well. While this did not seem to bother Porantillia in the slightest she also needed Keluse’s body to be fit and well.

  Thee has not had an easy escape. Porantillia warned Keluse as she continued through the dead city. Soon we shall reach my goal and as soon as I have reclaimed the treasure there I will do things to thee that will make Gratallach’s imprisonment seem pleasant.

  Keluse remained silent, retreating as far from the malevolent thing that had stolen her body as was possible. She curled her consciousness into a ball, locking herself away as she turned over the horrors she had seen Porantillia planning for her.

  Help me Besmir. She thought quietly. Please.

  Besmir trotted along astride Teghime, the atmosphere understandably subdued now they had suffered the loss of one of their party. His eyes scanned the horizon as they rode, their course following that of the Oskapi as they had retreated. Eventually they came to an ancient city, the walls half buried in sand, into which the Oskapi tracks led. Besmir reigned in, dropping to the ground and looking out the map the Corbondrasi king had had made for him. Sealed in an oiled, leather case the rolled up vellum was fresh and new with clear markings in Gazluthian.

  “I think it would be best to skirt this city,” he said as the remainder of his party gathered round. “The Oskapi are in there somewhere as well as any number of other things we don’t want to encounter.”

  The king squinted off into the distance, rolling hills of scrub grass and stunted bushes that had baked virtually dead in the sun reaching as far as his vision could penetrate.

  “Where is he?” Arteera asked, her dry throat making her sound like an ancient hag. “Where is Joranas?”

  Cal Trin silently handed her a canteen as Besmir pointed to where Ludavar lay on the map. Arteera laid a hand on his arm in thanks as she took the water from the grieving Corbondrasi and sipped it carefully.

  “This is where Porantillia said he is,” Besmir stated.

  Arteera stared at the spot on the newly copied map as if she could see her son rendered on the surface. As if she could reach out and stroke his face, push the hair back from his forehead as she had done almost every day of his life. A lump grew in Besmir’s throat to see her looking so lost and he vowed to himself again he would do anything it took to get his son back.

  “We’ll rest here for half an hour then continue,” he said in a gruff voice.

  The King of Gazluth wondered where the original builders of the city had managed to get all the stone to build it. Although not massive in comparison even to his capital of Morantine, the city must have taken generations to build and nowhere in the landscape around him had he seen any of the dark rocks the buildings had been built from. He steered closer to the outer wall, examining the stones that had been shaped and fitted with such incredible precision it did not appear as if he could get a finger between them, even now.

  The rock was a dark gray, almost slate color, with a crystalline structure inside that shone when it caught the sunlight. Like nothing he had seen before, the stones must have been brought from somewhere else and his mind shuddered at the cost of such an undertaking. Who had the Aristulians been before Porantillia had come to begin her cleansing of the world?

  Once past the city he didn’t even know the name of, Besmir turned northwest once more, finding an easier path in the cracked earth. Almost as if a road had been built, or worn, here centuries before it led in the same direction they were headed and although partially buried by the dry soil and sand the going was easier for the horses at least on the road. Besmir knew they would make better time on this and hoped it would take them all the way to the city they sought.

  Dusk came, bringing the chill down across his shoulders and Besmir shivered. Looking up he saw the day fading into night as the sun fell and for a few minutes the light blue sky was peppered with stars as day and night mingled.

  “What is that?” Pira asked, pointing to a dark shape in the distance.

  Besmir squinted in the growing dark spotting the darker outline of something regularly shaped on the side of the road they traveled.

  “Might be a building,” he said. “Somewhere to escape this cold at least,” he added as he nudged Teghime into a trot.

  On approach to it, Besmir saw it was a single storey building set off to one side of the road. Built from the same gray stone as the city they had skirted Besmir assumed it to be some kind of way station as it did not appear to be military in style. Walls and roof were all intact, the same attention to detail and exquisite craftsmanship used here as in the city meaning the building had stood up to the sun and weather for centuries. Two things demonstrated the age of the building. First, there was a pile of sand and earth thrown up against the side of it like a snowdrift and second, as with the city, every trace of organic material had perished, every scrap of metal long since turned to orange rust.

  Besmir held his hand up as he sent his mind inside the building to make sure there would be no nasty surprises. He wanted no more encounters with any Oskapi or other inhabitants of Aristulia.

  “It’s clear,” he said as soon as he returned to his body.

  They filed in through the surprisingly wide doorway, taking the animals inside with them. Besmir noticed it was significantly warmer inside the building and laid his hand on the stone. His eyebrows shot up as he felt the stone was not only warm but as smooth as glass to his hand. He felt around, not even able to feel where the stones joined and wondered again at the people that had built such things.

  There were a number of rooms that Besmir was eager to explore, but the animals demanded attention first. He loosed T
eghime and Arteera’s daasnu so they could hunt, Cal Trin’s mount joining them a few seconds later. He, Zaynorth and Founsalla Pira started to unload the horses, brushing them down and pouring water from their dwindling supply into a bucket.

  Besmir fed them oats and turned to see Cal Trin had already folded himself in his blankets, his face turned towards the dark wall. Besmir sighed, wondering what it must be like to be among virtual strangers, only one of whom spoke your language, and to be grieving for the brother you had just lost.

  “We’ll have to keep an eye on him,” Zaynorth muttered when he caught Besmir’s stare.

  The king nodded his agreement, squinting in the now almost complete darkness. Breaking one of his self enforced rules, Besmir lit a fire with his magic, the tiny cost to his life force a negligible thing. Pira had collected armloads of dry shrubs from outside and soon they had a fire to see by.

  “I thought you said you were no good out here,” Besmir said as Pira returned with another load of combustible material.

  “Ah, but I’m a fast learner, majesty,” the ambassador replied.

  “You might as well drop all that majesty stuff,” Besmir said. “There’s no need out here.”

  Pira executed a little bow.

  “As you wish, my king,” he said with a grin.

  Besmir shook his head, smiling at the half Corbondrasi’s humor as he rifled through packs for something to eat.

  “I meant to ask about that,” Besmir said as he unwrapped a package of dried meat and sniffed it. “How come you work for me and not Vi Rhane?”

  “I was born in Gazluth,” Pira said shortly, looking at Besmir with a shrug. “Remember I told you my mother was Gazluthian?”

  Besmir nodded as Arteera sat beside him.

  “So father was working in Gazluth, they met and I came along some time later. I only really escaped to Boranash when things went awry with Tiernon,” he added bluntly. “I was lucky enough to be able to take refuge in Boranash where I gained some notoriety being half Gazluthian. King Vi Rhane summoned me and after hearing my tale offered me dual citizenship.” He looked at Besmir with an expression of gratitude. “When you ended Tiernon and freed the country I returned to try and help rebuild some of what had been lost. Father was a merchant bringing spices and dry goods in and exporting beef from Gazluth so we were well off financially,” Pira trailed off as if embarrassed by revealing so much about his life. “Eventually King Vi Rhane asked me to return and teach him Gazluthian. It was his idea I work as ambassador to the Corbondrasi so he contacted you to make the suggestion and I have been there ever since. I am honored to be considered a Corbondrasi citizen but my heart lies in the greensward of Gazluth and you are my king,” Pira finished with a lowering of his odd head, his hair falling forward to cover the feathers that grew there.