“You know my name.”
“Everyone knows you,” said the man driving the wagon. He climbed off the board and landed on the road.
A pair of children and a woman who sheltered them maternally approached from the side of the wagons. The head of the family most likely occupied the second wagon in line.
No sign of the man with the glasses yet. If he doesn’t show himself, Deckard thought, that may mean he’s more than a ruse.
Deckard inspected the lead wagon while he talked to the family. His guess proved correct. They were merchants heading to the east to deal their wares to people further from the sea. They made the journey yearly. He thanked and blessed them and then asked the question he’d been saving.
“Did a man with glasses join you on the road today?”
“There was one man,” said the aging patriarch of the family. He motioned to the wagon behind them. “He went to sleep in the last wagon. He wears spectacles.”
The young mother nodded.
“Take shelter.” Deckard turned and marched toward the rearmost wagon.
The head of the family reached for him. His eyes were nervous. His hands trembled.
“Lord Hadrian,” said the graying man. “What will you do?”
“I won't damage your wagons or goods,” said Deckard.
“Who is the man—A demon?”
“I don't know,” said Deckard, “but he is suspicious. I say stand back.”
The family retreated from the wagon train to the roadside. Deckard approached the final wagon. He drew out the sprites within his hands. He didn't tie banes to the strings just yet but formed them into a net to trap his quarry. He climbed onto the driving board of the wagon and peered into through a covered awning.
The man in the glasses was not asleep. He looked Deckard with grim satisfaction.
“You followed me,” he said.
“When did you sense me?”
“Back in the city.” The man smiles.
This was a trick, Deckard thought
“I'm glad you took the bait,” said the man.
“This was your intention all along.”
“Correct.”
Deckard grimaced. He hated being deceived more than he liked to admit.
He leapt off the driver’s board and slipped into the wagon’s bed. He approached the man, who still lay on one side, looking up at Deckard. The man grinned like a lunatic.
“Too late to flee. I'll take you to Soucot for interrogation.”
“You may,” said the man, sliding onto his back. “If you can catch me.”
Deckard frowned. The man’s sprite song still sounded dull with suppression and his position left little chance of moving beyond where he lay. Deckard hesitated only because the man was part of a larger scheme to trap him. The board at the back of the wagon that held goods in, would keep his quarry from rolling out. The man is trapped, Deckard thought, but he knows more than I do. There must be some escape route. Otherwise, why is he grinning?
“Deckard, Hadrian,” said the man, “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“What is your name?” asked Deckard. “You have me at a disadvantage.”
“Call me Deel,” said the man.
“An odd name but no matter.”
“The sun is setting now,” said Deel. “You won’t make it back to Soucot in time.”
Deckard growled low in his throat. The deception, of course, made sense to leave the palace vulnerable.
Deel laughed. He kicked out with one leg and aimed for Deckard’s head. He hit only air but his other foot lashed out in a kick against the board at wagons rear. He pushed himself upright in a flash. Deckard took a fighting position, fist by his chin while his other hand wove the ends of his net to throw. Deel leapt from the wagon.
Deckard shot his net of luminous sprite strings after the man but Deel darted free. He moved faster than Deckard expected, faster than he appeared to move on the road at any time Deckard saw.
The man narrowly avoided the strings with his velocity, racing backward down the road. Deckard burst from the wagon and gave chase. Deel spun around in an instant sprinted towards Soucot. Sprites and banes in his limbs accelerated the man faster than Deckard could fly so low to the ground. Lacking momentum for takeoff, Deckard pushed his magic hard to keep up. They raced toward the city, dodging and ducking along the road as Hadrian shot strings at Deel.
Deckard pursued the man relentlessly. Even after a day and a night of chase, Deel remained game to race to the city. Deckard gritted his teeth as he accelerated after the man.
Saben
Saben, Folt, Uigara, and Heen removed their masks and made their way through the palace looking for escape routes to block. They funneled the few gentle servants who spotted them toward one corner of the building to keep things quiet before they struck the feasting hall. The feast continued, and the room was far too dangerous to attack blindly with all those mages and knights inside. Saben felt the thrill of potential success.
He saw the possibility of not only rescuing Jaswei and completing Folt’s mission as likely. Assassinating the governor held no power in Saben's heart. He may not share the rest of the team’s stake but escaping the palace would be easier with everyone panicked.
Saben and Heen took one side of the feast hall, waiting outside as the others got into position. On the other side of the room, Uigara peeked through another door. Folt marched toward the front doors, holding his cleaver as he intended to wield it. Saben doubted the man knew much else in life. Hefting his sword, Saben removed it replaced his baldric on his back.
Heen glanced at him.
“Swords like that need names,” he said.
Saben shrugged.
“I'm not so sure.”
Heen laughed, a sound little more than a chuckle.
“You’re a quiet man.”
Ben shrugged.
Heen flexed his arms. Though he was little more than a young teenager he emanated a kind of loud sprite song that Saben might have envied on a different day. At the moment, he was glad the powerful boy was on his side. If he is been forced to take a door alone he doubted his abilities to contain the mass of knights and mages. His heart flickered with intermittent confusion. A demonic presence moved in the palace behind them.
“Heen,” said Saben, “do you sense that?”
“Sense what?”
“It's not a sprite song but a demon is close.”
He sensed the demon through the seals tattooed on each hand, by his village elders years ago. Even here, on the other side of the world, the searing dark ink’s slight warmth indicated the nearness of demons. The sealed were intended to protect a village built on the edge of a world well. Every adult had wielded the ability to suppress demons with them as well.
In the village, necessity demanded such precautions. If a demon climbed out of the world well at any moment, they’d defended against it. The nature of demon essence does not usually resemble the sensory perceptions of humans, Saben recalled. Even a skilled mage attacked such a being moving guided by his or her senses.
“Why would a demon be here?” Heen asked. “That doesn't seem right.”
“It could be for any reason,” said Saben, “I need to warn Folt.”
Heen touched his arm.
“No. We are here for the mission. Once we drive the governor’s warriors away, you run toward the dungeon.”
“I can’t hear her essence,” said Saben.
“Your friends?” said Heen.
“I can't hear it.” Saben scowled.
Jaswei would not have been executed yet. He had to hope.
I will find her, alive or not.
His muscles burned in tension as he gripped the sword. They waited out of sight beside the doorway until Folt entered the hall. He stalked into the feasting room, his heavy form casting a long shadow. His mask, for he wore a different one, having removed his disguise as the butcher, resembled that of a demonic beast, a face of tongues and teeth. He brandished the
butcher’s cleaver in one hand and a loaded crossbow in the other.
“It’s time,” said Heen.
“Curse my luck,” said Saben. They rounded corners as across the room from them, Uigara entered the hall.
She made a swift stride toward the table where the hand of the governor sat.
Rina must be above them somewhere in the air by now. She would wait for them to separate the governor from the others. Uigara kicked one of the guards to the floor, then drew two blades from matched sheathes. The weapons glimmered with magic-reinforced edges. Saben suspected those blades might be nearly unbreakable.
Folt bellowed a battle cry from across the room. He hefted his cleaver and aimed his crossbow at the governor. The governor rose from the high table, accompanied by her sword servant. Knights and mages around the room leapt to their feet. Most did not carry weapons with them, only dinner knives and sword at best. Folt’s crossbow bolt would find a home unless some mage intercepted the shot.
Fold launched the bolt. The bolt whizzed through the air, then flared suddenly, caught in a field of light. The bolt disintegrated its steely point before could reach the governor.
The old witch lady, beside the governor, breathed a sigh of relief and lowered her hand. Saben hadn’t noticed the banes attacking the bolt until they swarmed back to their owner. Lady Nasibron accepted her banes and straightened her back.
“What is the meaning of this outrage?” cried the governor
“The king of Nassio sends his regards,” said Folt.
Heen, Folt, and Saben closed with the guests. Uigara raced for the high table, ignoring everyone else. She kept her swords ready. Saben saw over the crowd of his new opponents, the governor’s sword servant leap to her defense. Her sword glowed with a harsh inner light. The minor magical blade sang even in the din of a room full of active sprites and banes.
Saben marched toward the nearest table where he spotted two of the women he’d helped before Jaswei was caught. Along with the two men beside them, they made the hand the governor of Lowenrane.
Saben marched toward them, carefully bracing himself for magical attacks. He would disarm their spells before they could damage him. Folt charged the knights and mage guard. He knocked one man down, then hurled his crossbow into another, dropping him too.
The mage guard gave Folt a wide berth. They had numbers, but it took ten of them just so slow Folt’s rampage with entangling sprites. More became needed every few seconds as his blade lashed dropped the nearest defender.
Saben stormed forward with his blade. He didn't swing the weapon, but his opponents stayed clear of him. Heen felled grown knights one after another, darting here and there in a discord of sprites. His blows from bare hands enhanced by sprites sent foes flying over the tables to hit the floor in heaps.
The mages at the hand's table stood their ground. The two women turned stared at Saben. The skinny one, Melissa, grimaced. She looked betrayed to see him here.
“You,” she said, “why are you here?”
“I have no choice,” he said.
He rushed at the skinny woman, raising his blade to strike. She held her dinner knife before her. She would not be strong enough to stop him, with mere tableware.
A jolt of electricity shot from the blade of the knife and struck Heen. The boy darted backward, but the jolt ran through him. He shuddered and slowed, nearly freezing entirely.
Saben stepped forward to shield the boy from any further attacks.
Melissa's friend, Niu, growled and advanced to Melissa side. The man behind them leapt to his feet and took a place beside the two women. None of them carried significant weaponry, just knives, and two-tined forks.
Despite himself, Folt would feel bad when he cut them down.
“Out of my way,” he muttered.
“You think that's going to happen?” said the big, weathered-looking man by the two women.
Niu grunted.
“You’re doing this even after we paid you,” she said. “Guess you can't trust anyone.”
Saben shook his head.
“You shouldn’t rely on strangers,” he said. “That's for certain.”
Melissa glared at him.
“I'll keep that in mind.” She tightened her grip on her table knife. The blade crackled with tiny sparks of electricity.
“What do you plan to do with that?” asked Folt, barging his way through the crowd, leaving the mage guard scattered behind him. He joined Heen and Folt. Uigara fenced with the governor’s sword servant blade to shining blade. They appeared evenly matched.
Saben raised his sword.
“We go through these three next,” he said.
“Right,” said Folt. “A shame.”
“You work for the vakari.” Niu glared at Folt.
“Zalklith Once Broken, King of Nassio.” Folt grinned. “I’m proud. Why else would I shout my master’s name out loud?”
Melissa’s lip trembled.
“We have to find a way to stop them,” Niu whispered to her skinny friend.
The man beside Niu rolled his shoulders.
“I'll take the kid because I don't have a weapon.”
Folt lifted his bloody cleaver.
“I'd rather deal with you.” He pointed the blade at Niu. “Shame we can’t always have what we want.”
By the high table, Uigara darted under the sword servant’s guard. She drew blood. suya staggered one side, putting her hand against the wall.
Saben met Melissa furious glare.
“Your governor needs you,” he said.
“She needs me right here.”
She raised her table knife and pointed it at Saben.
Melissa
The chaos and bloodshed almost overwhelmed Melissa. She’d fought with bandits and beasts as a guard but a battle with mages in an enclosed space was new to her despite having encountered people willing to draw weapons in taverns while on the road.
None of her past enemies ever appeared as dangerous as the five attacking the hall right now. Suya staggered, wounded on the other side of the hall. Melissa glanced from their opponents to look at Niu.
“We need to help Suya,” she said under her breath.
Niu nodded.
“What about Ariel?” asked Tal from beside his sister.
“Which do you want, newcomer,” said the big man in the mask. Saben growled low in his throat.
“I can handle all of them.” Saben stepped forward and swiped his sword high overhead. “That is the last warning. Resist and your lives are ours to take.”
Kelt grunted.
“Is all you do talk?” Melissa snarled.
They closed the distance. Kelt charged toward the boy. Saben stepped forward and sliced toward Melissa. She darted out of reach of his blade. The edge of the weapon whistled through the air in front of her, stopping just before striking the floor.
In an instant, the massive weapon raised to rest against Saben’s shoulder once more.
He moves pretty well, thought Melissa, for a big man.
She held the table knife before her.
“Melissa,” said Niu, “keep Saben here. I'll help Suya.”
“Right,” said her brother.
Tal faced the man in the gruesome mask. The huge figure shook his head.
“Not so fast, girl. If you leave your brother to fight me alone I’ll take his life.”
“He can handle you, scum.”
The man in the mask shrugged.
“Believe that while you can.”
Niu ran through the chaos around tables toward the other side of the room. Suya limped, barely able to parry while she held herself against the wall.
The woman fighting Suya did not press the attack for long. She left the wounded sword servant and proceeded toward the high table. Governor Lokoth, still stood behind the heavy black wood table, flanked by Lord Tanlos and Lady Nasibron.
These people rushed in here, but they must be planning something, Melissa thought, or they have no way to get o
ut. Even if they were on a suicide mission, she doubted they planned their attack without more tricks further up their sleeves.
“Of all the nights for Hadrian to be out,” said Kelt through his teeth.
He’s right. Where could Deckard be?
Melissa despised relying on someone else to assist her. Teamwork formed the key to working as a caravan guard, yet one's senses and skills were often vital to survival on the road. She refused to count on even the immortal who carried her to the city to save her.
She focused her attention on Saben.
“You came back to kill us.”
He advanced. His long blade separated her and him from Tal and the masked man while Kelt and the boy took off in a chase. The boy darted away, and Kelt pursued him with a sprite-enhanced stride.
Melissa hoped the sailor would be all right. Like her, he’d seen battles, but as mages, they all still had a long way to go.
Saben whispered something she couldn’t hear. Melissa shook her head.
“I'm done talking.”
He rushed at her, sword swinging. She threw herself to one side. The sword cleaved through the table behind her. All the plates and other dinnerware crashed to the floor as the center split into two pieces.
She darted past Saben’s guard, thrusting her table knife at his head. She cut him along one brow. He darted backward, cursing, and wiping blood from his eyes. Melissa rushed after him.
He gave little ground. The man in the mask clashed with Tal, who wielded a chair as a shield with a broken leg as a club. Melissa danced back and forth trying not to maintain distance from Saben to keep him from moving forward.
Both fought as hard as they could, struggling and cutting with their blades. One clean hit from Saben’s blade would fell Melissa. Her heart held an iron bane, but that could not save her from such a huge weapon so expertly wielded.
She found a chair of her own, discarded on the floor. Propping the seat against her side, she kept it in her off-hand to hold Saben back. He swung his blade straight for the chair. Every leg shattered to pieces. Melissa left the ruined shield behind. She flipped the table knife over in her hand, trying to focus her essence. She only had one bane to launch but if it hit Saben she could end the duel in an instant, collateral damage be damned.
He spun as she tried to circle him. Tal let out a scream then fell, clutching his gashed and bleeding arm. His shoulder looked broken under the force of the mask man’s blow. The hideous man ignored Tal and marched toward the high table. The woman who’d out-fought Suya came face-to-face with Niu. Unarmed, the student mage hesitated. The woman ignored her and darted. Niu charged after her to keep her off balance. The woman sheathed one sword and swiftly drew a dagger from her belt. She hurled the short blade at Niu.
Demon Scroll Page 21