Dragon's Tongue: Book One of the Demon-Bound

by Laura J Underwood

  Fenelon nodded. “Hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “And since we can’t sense him. But they’ve got the demon with them. He would know if Tane was coming.”

  “Yes, and since Vagner is still under Tane’s control as well, I doubt he would be of any use to them.”

  “Oh,” Fenelon said. “Good point.” He sighed. “But by the time we get back to the hut, it will be too late to bring them along.”

  “So we come back tomorrow,” Etienne said. “I would much rather return in daylight and know they are safe. Something feels wrong just now.”

  “All right,” Fenelon said, shaking his head. He started to follow his trail of stick back towards the edge of the mist and smiled over his shoulder at her. “But you’re going to feel rather silly if we get back and they are only having an intimate chat.”

  Etienne narrowed her eyed. Fenelon took one look at the expression and blanched.

  “Right,” he said and started to trudge away from the edge.

  Etienne dropped the faggots where she stood and followed.

  ~

  Alaric felt a little disappointed at being left behind like some errant child. He and Shona had moved inside the hut to get out of the blinding whiteness. A warm fire burned in the hearth, knocking off the uneasy chill Alaric felt, and Shona kept her fingers busy with a bit of mending. Why women always brought along mending to occupy themselves puzzled Alaric. But then, he recalled many an evening of sitting before the family fire, watching his mother and sisters engage in this activity while he sang or played one of his instruments. His sisters, of course, thought it quite unfair, but Father always quelled their tongues with a glance. They would grow sullen, and later, they would find some means of tormenting their only brother, much to Alaric’s chagrin.

  With a sigh, he pulled out his psaltery and used the plectrum to stroke the strings. Vagner crouched in a corner to watch the door, but at the first note, the demon crawled across the floor and stretched out at Alaric’s feet like a gigantic dog. The sight was enough to make Alaric want to laugh. Instead, he concentrated on playing a few simple tunes then slipped into a jig. Shona tapped time with a foot, while Vagner used his claws…

  “This is nice,” Shona said when Alaric paused. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to sit before a hearth in an isolated hut with a handsome young man.”

  Alaric glanced at her, uncertain. Teasing filled her smile as she studied her stitches. The firelight haloed her with delicate softness that was quite attractive. She suddenly looked much older than him, more sensual. He took a deep breath and looked elsewhere, not liking where all his thoughts were wandering.

  “Yes, well, it’s not all that exciting, is it?” he said.

  Shona laughed. “Oh, I think it’s just fine,” she said, and her eyes held a hint of longing as she looked up from her mending. “My sisters all have hearths and homes and husbands. My brother has a wife. They all work as crofters to my father and share a farmstead that has been in the family for generations. I’m the only daughter who is not wed, though my father had no objections. He always said I saved him the price of a dowry when I turned out to be mageborn.”

  “Yes, Fenelon told me that,” Alaric said.

  “Did he?” Shona cocked her head. “Whatever for?”

  Alaric shrugged. “Making conversation,” he said. “I don’t really know. I’m sorry if it was something I wasn’t supposed to know.”

  “If it was something you were not supposed to know, I would not have mentioned it, silly,” Shona said. She set her mending aside and drew her stool closer to Alaric. “Will you show me how to play the psaltery again?”

  He nodded, suddenly both excited and uncomfortable with the thought of having her so near. Yet he dared not voice his concerns for fear of hurting her feelings. Matters were not made better when he saw the demon grinned up at them.

  “I think I shall go check around outside.” Vagner crawled to his feet as he spoke.

  “No, wait…Fenelon said we were to stay in the hut until he and Etienne returned,” Alaric stammered.

  Both Shona and the demon looked amused.

  “I think he is afraid of being alone with me,” she said.

  “I would agree,” Vagner said.

  Alaric’s face went hot with embarrassment. “No, that’s not it at all. I just don’t think it would be out and away when something could happen.”

  “Like what?” the demon teased, and leaned close to Alaric’s ear. “She wants you as much as you want her, so why deny yourself this opportunity,” Vagner whispered so low, Alaric barely heard the words. He still knew what they meant.

  “By your True Name, I forbid you to leave!” Alaric said.

  The demon frowned. “Very well,” Vagner said and thumped over to a corner to squat and glower. “Try to be nice to you. Try to give you the opportunity of a lifetime. The old folk are away, in case you have forgotten. No one will know but me.”

  Alaric felt fury rise then. “What makes you think I would ever…?” He suddenly caught the look in Shona’s eyes. The deep hurt welled like a flood. “I mean…I’m not the sort who takes advantage of a young lady, no matter how desirable I may find her…”

  His words trailed off. Shona said nothing. Merely reached over and took his face in her hands. The kiss she offered was tender and sweet. It was more than enough to abate his fury and soften his resolve. Slowly, she drew back and looked him in the eye.

  “I am not a child, Alaric Braidwine, thought I may look younger than my years,” she said in a steady voice. “And you are not a callow boy, though you look quite young and vulnerable just now. But we have every right to decide for ourselves what is right and moral…And I love you.”

  Alaric looked startled. “I…” Words escaped him.

  “My, my, a speechless bard,” Vagner chuckled from his corner.

  “Oh, get out of here!” Alaric snapped at the demon.

  “About time,” Vagner said. The demon opened the door and crouched to pass under the lintel. “I’ll whistle if I see the others.”

  Alaric closed his eyes as the door shut again. Horns!

  He felt Shona’s touch again and opened his eyes to look at her.

  “You don’t find me attractive, do you,” she asked, though it sounded more like accusation.

  Alaric tentatively took her hand. “I find you very attractive,” he said. “More attractive than is good for me, I imagine. But…”

  “You don’t love me,” she said.

  Alaric glanced away. “No, that’s not it either, Shona. I could very easily say I love you too, but this is not the time or place. I don’t want Etienne to think I can’t be trusted with you. I know she must believe I am following in Fenelon’s footsteps where women are concerned. I just don’t want anyone to believe I took advantage of you.”

  Gently, Shona forced his gaze back. “Seems to me,” she said, “I’m the one taking advantage of you.”

  “Well…now that you mention it.”

  She smiled, and that radiant vision sent his heart pounding hard in his chest. He didn’t exactly know when her fingers found the laces of his tunic, or his hers, because she was kissing him in a way that made everything else easy to forget. What he was aware of was the warmth of her skin when his hands breached the fortress of her clothes, and the taste of her tongue on his own. And from somewhere beyond all sense of awareness, a faint whistle, like the agitated twitter of a bird.

  FORTY SEVEN

  Vagner didn’t remember the mist being so close as he stepped out of the hut. The wind dragged it in, reducing the visibility. Odd… Wasn’t the wind moving from the other direction before?

  His contemplation of this fact was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a snow hare. The white-furred beast sprinted out of the mist, racing in an erratic pattern as if fleeing some predator. The sight of it tempted demon reflexes into action. Though Vagner’s belly was full of dead flesh, here was live meat and warm blood. Desert! the demon thought and pounced on th
e hare.

  But the hare spun and leapt off to the side with such fluid dexterity, the demon was taken by surprise. Vagner shifted and followed. Once more, he lunged almost cat-like in his grace. The snow hare issued a tiny shriek at feeling jaws close around it. With a single gulp, the demon wolfed it down, fur and all. Its heat radiated in him. Vagner rose feeling even more sated than before.

  It was then that Vagner turned and realized he could no longer see the hut. Balls and barbs! he thought and stretched demon senses. The little master’s essence made a good beacon, especially since it was filled with passion’s fire and glowed more brightly than before. The demon grinned and started towards the source when he sensed something else. The stealthy approach of others brushed demon senses.

  The Greenfyn and his woman back so soon? Vagner thought. He began to whistle like a Mountain Finch…

  But it then occurred to the demon he was not sensing the Greenfyn or the woman Etienne, but a musky, masculine presence. More than two stalked across the snow. He stretched senses. An even dozen bodies were striding quietly through the mist. The demon sniffed and picked up the odors of unwashed men in filthy bearskins.

  Haxons! But what were Haxons doing in these mountains?

  With a hiss, the demon became as part of the mist, gliding rapidly towards the hut. If there was to be trouble, he wanted to be first to the door. But even as he reached the hut, war cries cut the air, and a dozen Haxons armed with axes, swords and bows charged out of the mist.

  Vagner shifted into his most hideous chiropteran form.

  At least four of the Haxons looked surprised at the sudden appearance of the demon and pelted off to either side with shouts. The rest charged at Vagner as though fear had no place in their hearts. Yet as he roared and lashed out with claws, they shied away then came back. Blows did not actually fall. They would swing at him, then leap back and laugh, taunting him as too slow and stupid.

  I am neither, you fools! the demon thought as he charged after them. One of them took great pleasure in teasing Vagner more than the rest. This Haxon jeered, threw his axe and wagged his arse at Vagner. I’ll show you! Vagner charged, bearing down on the man who turned to run. But demons are quick, and Vagner was no exception. He pounced with a roar. The Haxon dropped and rolled, and Vagner was on the man as swift as he had caught the hare. The demon pinned the Haxon in the snow, and raised the tail barb to strike a death blow.

  A club slammed into the side of Vagner’s head. Snarling, the demon turned to see another fly at his face. He dodged that one and the next, and snarling in vexation, Vagner threw himself at the perpetrator.

  Damn these Haxons. They were as irritating as gnats, leading the demon this way and that. He would eat every last one of them if it took all day.

  He lunged after them, screaming in rage, determined to make good his vow.

  ~

  The first Haxon war cry brought Alaric up so fast, he dragged Shona with him, and they bumped noses like a pair of ill-trained acrobats. Horns. It sounded like a full scale battle. Shona had been in the process of unlacing his trews, and now her fingers fumbled free, leaving him to jerk on his shirt and she her own…

  He was halfway into his tunic when a great weight slammed the wooden door. Boards tore and four unfamiliar bodies crowded the gap, howling like madmen.

  Oh, Horns! Haxons!

  Alaric quickly shouted “Gath saighead buail,” throwing a mage bolt that smacked one of the Haxon’s in the chest with enough force to knock him back. Shona scrambled for her staff, and Alaric took advantage of the momentary confusion at the door to run for his sword.

  He wanted to push Shona to safety and defend her. Heroics, however, often depended on not getting caught with one’s trews unlaced. And on having the company of a woman less brave than himself. As one of the Haxons reached for Shona, she thrust the end of her staff into his stomach, doubling him then swung the staff around to crack him across the head. He fell to his knees and moaned.

  After that, Alaric had no time to marvel her skill and determination. A large Haxon closed in on Alaric who lashed out with his own sword. Alas, he had not stopped to consider the Haxon would be able to execute a swift parry with anything as big as a broad axe. But he saw the folly of his action too well as the ax slammed his blade from his hand. The blow left Alaric’s fingers numb as he watched his sword skitter across the floor. Alaric dove after it, only to be hauled up short by a meaty grasp on his arm. The Haxon jerked Alaric back like a whip and slammed him against the wall. Pain shot through Alaric, and his senses wavered with dizziness. He nearly slid to the floor, but a hand took his throat and pressed him to the wall. The Haxon laughed then yelled as a flailing staff whapped him across the back. With a snarl, the barbarian snapped his axe around and knocked the staff from Shona’s hands. She shrieked in anger as his attention came back on Alaric. With a howl, Shona clambered up on the Haxon’s back and tried to gouge his eyes. All the while, Alaric struggled to free himself from the hand that pinned him by his throat.

  There’s two of us, and only one of him! Alaric thought.

  Well, actually, there were more of them, he regretfully recalled. One of the other Haxons seized Shona from behind, plucking her off her victim and practically throwing her down on the skins. She balled a hand to cast a spell. Alaric could feel her draw power. But the Haxon cracked her across the face, leaving her too dizzy to fight as he straddled her and started to tear off what few clothes she had on.

  “NO!” Alaric shouted and fought to no avail against the greater strength of his opponent. He tried gouging with fingers and thumping with fists to no avail. Alaric even brought up one foot and slammed it into the Haxon’s belly, but the bristling warrior must have possessed a gut of steel. The blow did no more than rock him back. He laughed and reared back with the butt end of his axe.

  “He said not to harm him!” the third Haxon at the door shouted.

  Alaric took no comfort in that, but he used the moment to shout, Vagner!” as loud as he could.

  The Haxon apparently thought Alaric was casting a spell because the barbarian’s hand closed over Alaric’s mouth, cutting off what little air he breathed. Then releasing his throat, the Haxon drew back a fist that looked bit enough to cave in Alaric’s face, and he felt with certainty that he would be unable to stand against such a debilitating blow.

  One that never came. For even as Alaric tightened every muscle in anticipation of the pain to come, his attacker suddenly stiffened. Alaric felt a spray of warm blood and saw inches of a barb thrust out of the Haxon’s chest before the barbarian dropped Alaric into a heap on the floor. He looked up in time to see the demon stretch its jaws and swallow the man whole. Then, there was a scream.

  Alaric scrambled across the room to rescue Shona. He seized up the dead Haxon’s dropped ax, and nearly fell over from a weight greater than he had expected. Still, anger had his adrenalin up. Vagner was chasing the other Haxons from the hut with snarls of glee. The warrior trying to violate Shona was oblivious to his companions’ plights. Shona had rousted enough to start fighting again, but she was no match for his strength.

  So Alaric heaved the axe, butt-end first, and slammed it into the Haxon’s head. Enough weight and force followed the blow. Alaric heard the snap of a human skull shattering. The Haxon dropped like a stone.

  Outside, noises had changed. Alaric was too busy trying to free Shona from the dead man’s weight to care.

  It was then Alaric heard two very welcome voices shouting, “Horns!” simultaneously. And suddenly, there were more hands than his shoving the dead Haxon aside.

  Shona gasped as air finally reached her lungs. She shot up and reached for Alaric, but Etienne wedged between them and pulled the lass close. Alaric sat back on his haunches, realizing he was shaking hard.

  A reassuring hand took his shoulder. The other seized his chin and pulled his face around. Blue eyes full of concern took stock of Alaric’s face, then the obvious jumble of his clothes.

  “Just what in t
he name of Cernunnos happened here?” Fenelon asked, and there was more than a hint of merriment in his gaze.

  Had Alaric not been so exhausted, he would have given in to the urge to slam a fist into Fenelon’s wicked, sly smile.

  FORTY EIGHT

  “I knew everything felt wrong,” Etienne said as Vagner devoured the last of the Haxons. By Balgoran’s Barb, the demon felt full as a tick…and very happy. He hadn’t eaten this much since Tane massacred that farmstead in Mallow for power.

  “Are you sure about what that Haxon said?” Fenelon asked Alaric. The little master was still visibly shaking from exhaustion. He had related his tale, but not in detail. Vagner almost laughed aloud when Alaric said that he and Shona were just talking—and she said nothing to refute him—when all the noise started. At the moment, Etienne was too concerned with cleaning their various injuries to notice their lack of complete clothes, and Vagner could only assume she thought the Haxons were responsible.

  “Quite sure,” Alaric said. “One of them was going to hit me with his axe, and the other said very clearly, He said not to harm him…”

  Fenelon shook his head. “That does not sound good,” he said.

  “Just who do you suppose this he could be?” Etienne asked.

  “Unfortunately, the possibilities are endless,” Fenelon said. “I can think of a dozen or more mageborn who have consorted with Haxons in the past, and who might have heard there’s a price on Alaric’s head. For all we know, Turlough contacted them himself.

  “But how would they know we were here?” Etienne insisted.

  “Admittedly, that’s the part that puzzles me. I know these cloaks and their spells are working, because when we went out, I scried back and got the impression Alaric was leagues away from here.”

  Alaric frowned. “But you looked here,” he said.