by Duncan Pile
Out from among the trees came a broken, shambling creature that look like it had died some time ago. It may once have been a forest creature, perhaps a wild boar, but it was so far gone that it was difficult to tell. Its flesh hung from it in great sagging hammocks, greyed and peeling. One cheek had rotted so badly it had left a ragged hole. To his disgust, Gaspi could see right through it to heavy, blackened teeth designed for tearing and crushing. A broken tusk protruded from its mouth, stained black with the detritus of previous kills.
“Don’t let it touch you,” Hephistole urged. The creature grunted, shifting to the side and looking at Hephistole warily, uncertain what to make of the glow of magic. Gaspi was pretty certain that the dark, leering eyes shone with a spark of intelligence.
It sprang at them so suddenly that Gaspi didn’t have any time to react. He didn’t cast a spell, or even draw on his power, but fell to his backside with a yelp. Thankfully, Hephistole was not taken unawares. Dropping his shield, he thrust out a hand, flinging a ball of the misty white light at the creature. It slammed into its chest, sending it tumbling back into the trees, where it disappeared into shadow.
“Get on your feet and summon a force strike in each hand,” Hephistole commanded. Shaken to the core, Gaspi did as he was told. His heart was beating loudly in his throat and ears. Where was it? Both he and Hephistole scanned the trees, looking for the awful, rotten creature.
“When it comes, attack,” Hephistole said. “We have to destroy this thing.”
It exploded out of the shadows in a blur, heading straight for Gaspi. This time he was ready, throwing one of his strikes at it. The strike collided with its head, and the creature was flung on its back again, but only briefly. Writhing madly, it surged to its feet and ran at him again. Hephistole flung another ball of misty light at it but missed. Gaspi’s second force strike wasn’t as successful as the first, slowing it down but not stopping it. The stench of rotting flesh was overwhelming as it gathered itself for a killing leap. It was so close Gaspi could see saliva dripping from the hole in its cheek. Those dark, intelligent eyes were filled with hunger and madness, and somehow Gaspi knew that if it reached him he was in the deepest kind of trouble.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the misty light in Hephistole’s palms glow intensely white, and in one fluid motion the chancellor threw a mighty spear of light at the creature. It flew through the air and hit the creature as it sprang, catching it in midair and skewering it right through. The creature was thrown away from Gaspi, landing on its side with an agonised roar. The spear of light had gone through the creature’s body and stuck deeply into the ground, pinning it in place. The chancellor walked nearer to it, though not near enough that it might touch him in its death throes. Summoning another spear, he thrust it through the fleshy hollow beneath the creature’s shoulder, pinning it in place more securely as it howled in fury. He did the same in the other shoulder and once more just above its groin.
Hephistole turned round. “Burn it,” he said bleakly, stepping away from the creature to allow Gaspi to do his part. Gaspi stepped nearer, looking at the hateful, rotting mass of flesh writhing on the ground before him. It was truly disgusting and deserving of death. He didn’t feel any pity as he drew on the heat in the sun-warmed air, focusing it above the creature’s body, allowing it to intensify until a super-heated disc began to glow, making the air roil around it. Gaspi waited until it was glowing a fierce white and released the energy. A wide beam of fire jetted down from the focus Gaspi had created, silencing the creature instantly as its head burned to ash.
“Burn it all,” Hephistole said from behind him. He directed the fire along the creature’s body, reducing it to a pile of ash in a matter of seconds. Releasing his magic, he looked at the charred outline of what used to be its body.
“Don’t move,” Hephistole said and Gaspi looked at him in confusion. “Just watch,” he said quietly, directing his attention back to the pile of ash.
For a moment Gaspi didn’t know what he was watching for, and then he saw something forming in the air. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, made entirely of shadow. The figure had a kind of density to it, as if the shadows it was made of had thickened and condensed into a form that was somehow solid. A burnt orange glow escaped from cracks in its shadowy flesh, like coals that still burned hotly under a sooty coating. Its face was more clearly defined, eyes and mouth distinguishable from the general darkness that otherwise obscured its features. Its mouth opened and closed like a fish removed from water, its seared gullet glowing a sullen red within every time its jaws opened. Its eyes too were fiery, orange irises framing deep red pupils. It glared at Gaspi with a force that made him take a step backwards. He glanced worriedly at Hephistole, but the chancellor just held out a down-turned palm as if to tell him not to be afraid. Gaspi watched with morbid fascination as the shadowy figure began to fade. It slowly became transparent and then disappeared altogether.
“Sheesh,” Gaspi said, sitting down heavily on the ground as his knees became weak and refused to hold him up any longer. He looked up at Hephistole. “What the heck was that?” he asked shakily
“We’ll talk as we ride,” Hephistole said, still alert for danger. “We should spend the night somewhere a bit more populated, and to do that we need to set off right now.”
…
Hephistole lifted the enchantment from the horses and they set off again, travelling warily, keeping their eyes and noses alert for trouble. After a mile or so Hephistole answered Gaspi’s question:
“The rotten creature was long dead,” he began. “It was possessed by the other being you saw at the end - a particularly nasty kind of demon called a Snatcher. Once summoned from the underworld, it has no real physical presence of its own and relies on stealing the bodies of living creatures. The moment it possesses a living creature, that creature dies and its body begins to rot. The demon will live in that body until it can find a better one, but if it is desperate enough, and its current body is about to disintegrate completely, it will possess almost anything and wait for something fresh to come along. If the body it currently possesses falls apart, and it can’t find a new host, it is banished back to the underworld.
“So we just got rid of that Snatcher for good?” Gaspi asked.
“That’s correct,” Hephistole answered with grim satisfaction. “What concerns me much more is who summoned it in the first place. There’s only one person I know who would contemplate doing such a thing.”
“You think Sestin summoned it?” Gaspi asked.
“That’s exactly what I think, but maybe he did it a long time ago,” Hephistole answered slowly. “The creature it had possessed was pretty far gone, so it obviously wasn’t summoned recently. Perhaps it has lived deep in the forest for years, possessing one creature after another. It could be that the presence of two magicians drew it out.”
“Or the presence of a Nature Mage?” Gaspi said shrewdly.
“There is that possibility,” Hephistole conceded. “Your magic will certainly be anathema to any kind of demon.”
“Anathema?” Gaspi asked.
“Opposite, antagonistic, a natural enemy, something a demon can’t abide,” Hephistole clarified. “But we shouldn’t jump to any conclusions.”
Gaspi mused silently to himself that Hephistole was probably trying to protect him from worry, but he thought it very likely that his particular gift would draw this kind of attention. Neither magician’s wariness diminished as they rode on through the afternoon.
They reached a large village as the sun was setting, and after stabling their horses at the inn, went in for supper. The inn was run down and the food didn’t compare to the kind of fare Hephistole produced, but Gaspi thought it was preferable to being exposed to god-knows-what out in the wilds.
He slept poorly that night, dreaming of fire-limbed, shadow creatures hunting him down, glaring at him with baleful eyes.
…
When he woke the next day, Gaspi was gritty-eyed and not
at all refreshed. Hephistole’s bed was empty so he dressed and went down to find him. He found him in the common room, consuming some breakfast. He looked up as Gaspi entered.
“Morning Gaspi!” he said brightly. A good night’s sleep seemed to have improved the chancellor’s disposition. “Come and eat,” he invited genially.
Gaspi sat down as Hephistole called for the innkeep. “Same thing as me?” he asked, pointing at his half consumed breakfast of bread, ham and cheese.
“Sure,” Gaspi answered. An apron-clad man came bustling out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishcloth.
“How can I help?” he asked.
“Can my young friend here get a board of meat and cheese, and a small loaf?” Hephistole answered.
“Five minutes,” the innkeep answered, flinging the dishcloth over his shoulder and heading back into the kitchen.
As promised, he returned shortly with a plate piled generously with thick slices of ham and peppered cheese, along with a loaf of bread and a glass of water. Suddenly feeling his hunger, he wolfed his meal down with unseemly haste.
“Caught me up have you?” Hephistole asked with a smile as Gaspi cleaned his plate. Gaspi grinned back and then his smile faded as his thoughts turned, with some trepidation, to the Snatcher they’d fought the previous day. What was to say there wasn’t another one lurking in the bushes, ready to pounce?
“Do you think there are any more Snatchers out there?” he asked, voicing the fear that had kept him from sleep all night.
“No I don’t,” Hephistole answered, and then held up a palm when Gaspi opened his mouth to ask more questions. “We’ll talk on the road,” he said. “Heath will not want to be kept waiting.”
It didn’t take them long to get underway, and as they travelled away from the village, Hephistole started to explain himself.
“I was thinking about this last night,” Hephistole said, “and I’m certain there isn’t another one in the area.”
“What makes you so sure?” Gaspi asked, not yet mollified.
“It is very hard to learn demonology,” Hephistole answered, “and in all my years as a magician I’ve only come across one man disturbed enough to try it, or at least one that is alive to tell the tale. I am forced to conclude that the Snatcher we dispatched yesterday was summoned by him, most likely a long time ago, and has been living deep in the forest, far from any settlement. Even if someone else had summoned it, the truth is that any other demon living in the vicinity would have been drawn to it and the two would have fought to the death. They are not friendly creatures, even to each other. So no, I don’t think we ought to be concerned about facing another one,” he concluded.
Gaspi nodded thoughtfully. What Hephistole said made sense. He supposed there was nothing to be gained from being on edge, so as much as he could, he tried to push thoughts of marauding Snatchers out of his mind. Freed from its first worry, Gaspi’s mind turned to the next one on the list. During the first day’s travel, he’d asked Hephistole about the reclusive Heath, but the chancellor’s answers hadn’t fully satisfied his curiosity. Apparently the contact between the two men had been minimal, and that left him wondering just how much Hephistole was taking on trust. There was no point asking for more information, however, as Hephistole had clearly told him everything he could. The only thing to do was to get it over with and meet the druid.
“How long until we get there?” he asked, not for the first time.
Hephistole laughed. “I encourage persistent questioning but not if the question is the same one and I’ve already answered it,” he said, and although Gaspi knew that it was said in good humour, he also knew not to ask again. Hephistole looked at Gaspi with understanding eyes. “It’s natural to be nervous,” he said knowingly. “Heath is in part an unknown quantity, but I am sure that, by his own measure, he means well.”
The next few hours passed slowly, and eventually Gaspi lost himself in thoughts of Emmy. Was she missing him already? The previous day’s disturbing events hadn’t given him much of a chance to think about her, but now that he took the time to think about her, he found he was already missing her dreadfully. He pictured the little wrinkle she got in the middle of her forehead when she was concentrating on something and smiled to himself.
The cart came to a juddering halt, jolting him from his daydream.
“What’s going on?” he asked, looking at Hephistole questioningly.
With a nod of his head, Hephistole indicated that Gaspi should look ahead, but when Gaspi followed his gaze he couldn’t see anything special. They had travelled well off the beaten track and their road had turned into a path just wide enough for the cart to travel down. Ahead of them it was completely overgrown, and he couldn’t see how they could travel any further. Hephistole was looking at a thick grove of trees, a wall of old growth trailing an impressive tangle of creepers.
Gaspi still couldn’t see anything of particular note. He opened his mouth to speak, but the chancellor held up a hand for silence, and slowly climbed down from the cart. Gaspi watched in bewildered silence as he walked slowly towards the thick copse of trees, his palms open as if in greeting. As if appearing from nowhere, a figure stepped out from among the trees. Gaspi took a sharp breath. He was sure no-one had been there previously, but all of a sudden someone that could only be Heath was standing right in front of him.
The druid was an intimidating person to look at. He was tall - a bit taller than Taurnil - and his arms were knotted with corded, ropey muscle. He didn’t have the bulky look Gaspi had seen in some of Helioport’s guards, but he looked rangy and tough. His hair fell in wild dreadlocks around a face obscured by a beard that had clearly never seen a comb. He wore layers of animal skins and leather boots, and an enormous knife scabbarded at his waist. In his right hand he carried a thick wooden staff, festooned with knots and whorls, which looked like it could deal a heavy blow. Hephistole walked up to him and extended his hand. Heath just stood there, but Hephistole was persistent, and after a moment, the druid offered his own and shook hands in the manner of someone picking up a long disused habit. Hephistole said a few words that Gaspi couldn’t make out and Heath turned to look at him, indicating that he should approach with a curt gesture of his hand.
Feeling nervous, Gaspi climbed down to the ground and walked on over. Heath eyed him up and down wordlessly before giving a single nod of his head.
“Right,” Hephistole said as if a matter had been decided. “I’ll be leaving you here Gaspi.” He rested a hand on Gaspi’s shoulder, meeting his gaze with his own, his green eyes twinkling with a curious kind of intensity. “Learn well, and make the most of this experience. It is a very rare opportunity.” He winked, returning to the cart with sprightly steps and springing up the steps into the carriage. As he flicked the reins, Gaspi couldn’t help thinking that for the next three months he was going to regret not getting right back in the cart with Hephistole and driving away.
Seven
Emea sat at her desk, staring glumly out of the window. It was a sunny day, but she didn’t have the heart to go outside and enjoy it. She was missing Gaspi. They’d never really been apart since the night they’d first kissed in the Moot Hall in Aemon’s Reach, and she hadn’t realised just how painful the separation would be. Sure, she’d sometimes gone a day or two without seeing him properly, but that had been fine because she’d known it wouldn’t be long until they were together again. Now that he’d left, and there was no chance of seeing him at all, it was unbearable – all she wanted to do was to be with him, and she knew that she couldn’t for another three months. It made her ache.
Three months! It seemed like an eternity. Looking out the window, Emmy could feel the minutes becoming bulky and sticky, passing by as slowly as molasses drips. Overwhelmed by frustration, she felt the tension building in her until she was sure she was going to burst. Blinking back sudden tears, she made a snap decision - if she wanted to avoid wallowing in misery, she simply couldn’t allow herself to think about him at
all. She had to get as busy as possible, and the three months would hopefully pass by without her noticing. Her mind made up, she pushed herself determinedly out of the chair and went out looking for something to do.
She went looking for Lydia first of all, but her friend wasn’t in her room. Lydia wasn’t much company at the moment anyway. If she wasn’t trying to seduce Taurnil then she was talking about it. Emmy didn’t understand why she was in so much of a rush. Sex would probably be a great thing once you were married, but before then there was kissing, and cuddling, and holding hands, which were all wonderful too. Married women had sex; unmarried girls didn’t - well that’s how it worked in her mind anyway. All this thought of kissing and cuddling was making her think of Gaspi again, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Pushing him out of her mind once more, she walked through the corridors of the Warren, looking for anything that would serve as a distraction.
She peered in all the open doors, hoping to find someone she knew, and eventually she found what she was looking for in Everand’s room. Looking in the doorway, she saw that Matthias and Temalia were in there too, playing a game of blag on a small table by the window. She knocked tentatively on the lintel, hoping they’d invite her to join them. They called out a chorus of greetings.
“Wanna play?” Matthias piped cheerfully. He was still very small for his age and, unlike his classmates, his voice showed no inclination towards breaking. Emmy suppressed a smile. It was funny to hear a fifteen year old boy speak with what was basically a child’s voice, but it wasn’t nice to laugh about it to his face.
Smiling back, she walked into the room. “Do you mind?” she asked.
“Of course not,” Everand responded, standing up and pulling another chair over to the table. He stayed standing, waiting until she sat down before retaking his own seat. Emmy suppressed another smile. Since he and Gaspi had made up, Everand was someone she was happy to spend time with, but he was still so painfully pompous.