The Demon's Blade

by Steven Drake

  "Hmm...." Darien doubted that the story was entirely true. There were too many questions for his jaded mind. Why was Jerris allowed to live at the castle, I wonder? Beyond that, I can’t believe that any large band of goblins would venture this far west. All the major clans were, and still are, under the Master's influence, and he would never have allowed them to send a raid this far west for fear of provoking a war with the dwarves, who he reckoned a great power if they were ever united against a common foe. Even if that story were true, why would Boras simply throw Jerris out a year ago? What changed? Darien tried his best not to show his doubts to Jerris, but Jerris proved more perceptive than he at first seemed.

  "You don't believe it do you?" Jerris questioned. His voice gave away considerable frustration, but something else as well, a hint of some uncertainty and doubt of his own.

  "I neither believe it nor disbelieve it. I have no doubt that this is what your mother told you, but parents often lie to their children, for many different reasons," Darien replied calmly. He then noticed Jerris looking down. "You have your own doubts too, do you not?"

  Jerris immediately turned away, looking downwards and to the left. "My mother wouldn't lie to me. She loves me more than anything."

  "I’m sure she does, but love can be a treacherous creature," Darien said. He crossed his arms across his chest, scoffed loudly, and continued. "Lying, cheating, stealing, and worse have all been done in the name of love. I have seen men turn their backs upon friends they have known since childhood over the love of a woman. Wars have begun and ended for the sake of love. Love can twist and distort the truth as easily as a man can bend a blade of grass. You would do well to beware of it, not rely upon it."

  Jerris looked strangely at the older half-elf, a look which he had seen often enough. He must think me heartless, to say such things, and perhaps he is right, Darien mused. Nevertheless, I cannot afford to humor the romantic ideals of children. This world is far too cruel, cruel and hard and cold, and it is only those strong enough to endure it who survive. One must be hard as steel and cold as ice. That’s the only reason I’ve lived this long. Several minutes passed with Darien lost in his own thoughts, when finally, Jerris interrupted his silent contemplation. "I don't have any proof, or even any evidence, but I think Duke Parham, Boras, killed my father. I don't know why, but I just can't get it out of my mind. It's something about the way he looks at me, or maybe just a feeling I have in my bones."

  "You have good instincts. You should trust them. That explanation makes more sense than a goblin raid two hundred leagues west of their nearest holding. There are certainly other possibilities, but that seems as likely as any." Darien remarked. Jerris raised his head and smiled slightly at this encouragement. "Enough of this discussion for now. I have a little bread here, and a little breakfast is better than none."

  They ate a meal of cold stale bread in silence. While they ate, Darien pondered what all this might mean. The starstone, the half-elf child, and this strange story had been a stroke of strange fortune, or perhaps a turn of ill luck. The coin might fall upon either side yet. The thoughtful and careful shade turned the situation over in his mind. In his hands, that stone would be a powerful weapon, not just a pretty trinket. If he used it to magnify his own magic, he would at least stand a far greater chance against the assassins that might be sent after him. On the other hand, he knew very little about the stone, and it could contain any number of unknown dangers. Would it magnify magical energy in the same way that smaller ones did, and would the effects be more difficult to control, he asked himself? Had he not seen it himself, he would have doubted such a large starstone existed anywhere in the world. If the Master knew it existed, he would certainly try to obtain it, whether or not he intended to remake the crystal. The only thing certain was that this witless child could not be left with it or it would probably get him killed.

  Darien reasoned he could take the stone by force or steal it easily enough. In his former life, he would have done so without hesitation, and even since then, he had often used theft, deception, and intimidation to get his way. Still, he felt something different this time. Perhaps it was Jerris' youth and naiveté, or perhaps because he shared a common half-elf heritage. Then again, perhaps it was something else, something more ethereal, an intuition, like the hand of destiny pulling gently upon his arm. Whatever it was, Darien felt a sympathy for this youth, a strange and alien feeling to him, but not altogether unpleasant.

  Darien gave Jerris a stern look, assessing him as best he could. I must know if he’s holding anything back, he reasoned. Any information might be useful, even things which might not seem significant to the young man himself.

  Jerris was focused intently upon his meager meal when Darien spoke to him. "Did your mother tell you anything else about that stone, like where it came from, or how she came to possess it, or why she felt the need to hide it? You must tell me anything your mother shared with you about that stone, however insignificant it might seem." Jerris looked up, and as he did, the Executioner looked directly into Jerris' eyes, and, using a spell called shadow sight, peered into the mind which lay beyond. The shades used shadow sight to gather information from unwilling targets, and all shades had been expected to learn both how to use it, and how to resist it. Its effectiveness depended upon the relative strength of will and magic of both the caster and the target. The spell took hold almost instantly, and Darien held Jerris, who was now unable to look away, or conceal any lie. A look of surprise and sudden fear flashed across Jerris’ face, but he could not resist the power of the spell. He finally yielded entirely and spoke, "She always told me it was a symbol of our house, and that if I ever found our people, I would be recognized as one of our house."

  "Did she tell you the name of that house?" Darien asked, slowly and calmly, still holding Jerris' eyes in a trance, frozen.

  "Tolmirran," Jerris replied. The name held no significance, but the fact that he had any family name indicated that the family must be nobility, or was at one point. The stone had to be some kind of familial treasure.

  "She told you the stone would mark you as one of your house if you ever found your people. What did she mean? What people are there for you to find?" Darien asked. He had never heard of any town or settlement of pure-blood elves in any part of the known world.

  Jerris hesitated, resisting the spell, hiding something, but Darien had to have the whole truth. He sharpened his gaze, concentrating upon the magic, not a pleasant task, considering the sympathy he now felt. He had been the target of this spell many times, as part of his training. He remembered how terribly painful the spell could be if pushed to its limit, like having a thousand tiny shards of glass inside him, tearing at his mind until there was nothing left but pain. At this level, the spell was unpleasant, but not painful, and the powerful shade could not bring himself to push the spell any farther. Indeed, he began to find it difficult to maintain his own concentration. "Please, I mean to help you if I can, but I need to know what you know." Darien blurted out in uncharacteristic desperation, but it was no use. He could not continue. He broke the spell as a wave of disorientation flooded over him, and blinked his stinging eyes. Jerris looked down, suddenly released from the spell.

  To Darien's considerable surprise, Jerris answered, "She said there was a city somewhere, a secret city where the ancient elves slept, awaiting the restoration of their kingdom. She made me promise never to tell that to anyone."

  The older half-elf stared in shock at the boy. Why did he reply after the spell was lifted? Darien gasped for breath, exhausted. Jerris' constitution had proved stronger than expected, to resist the spell and to tire him so quickly. "I am… sorry… for that, but I had to be certain you were telling the truth. That spell is used for gathering information. It prevents the target from lying, but it also brings out any information the caster requests, even if the target has himself forgotten it or doesn't realize its importance," Darien said in erratic breaths.

  Jerris remained surprisingly cal
m. "Apology accepted I guess. Anyway, it looks like that wasn't much easier for you than for me," Jerris commented, clearly noticing the other's exasperated state. Darien only nodded yes and continued to gather himself. "She called it Kadanar, the hidden city, but she had no idea where to start looking for it." Jerris then looked away, a pained and uncomfortable look upon his face.

  "What is it, Jerris?"

  "It's just… Well I didn't really believe her. I still don't. As I grew older, she seemed to become distant, strange, addled or something. I don't know whether it was something the Duke did to her, or whether the captivity made her mad, but she was not herself. She had never said anything about the city when I was younger. I… can't tell if it's something real or just a delusion. She said many odd things before I left. That's why I didn't tell you earlier." Jerris stammered out the words, clearly having difficulty admitting his own doubts about his mother. “She gave me a book, but I can’t read it. I don’t even recognize the letters. She told me it was written in the elven language, but I don’t know. Why would she have a book that she can’t read? It doesn’t make any sense to me, and it looks sort of… well take a look.”

  Jerris produced a book from a pocket on the inside of his jerkin. It looked old beyond the count of years. It was a simple book bound with twine in a plain brown leather cover, unadorned with any lettering. It looked to be nothing more than an old journal, and it certainly did not look like anything that had ever been important. Darien carefully opened the book, and indeed, it was incomprehensible. The pages had yellowed with age. Some were crumbling into pieces, and some clearly already had, judging by the tiny flakes of ancient paper which had collected between the remaining pages. The letters did seem familiar, like something half remembered from his earliest youth. Perhaps this was ancient elven writing, and then again, perhaps it was only the scratching of a woman gone mad.

  "I see," he said calmly as he handed the book back to Jerris. He knew then what he had to do. Jerris didn't know anything useful. For whatever reason, Jerris’ mother had given him only the vaguest idea of what the stone was or where it came from. He needed more information, and there was only one way to get it. "Well Jerris. I have decided what I must do. I said that I would help you, and I shall. Your mother may be mad, and she may not. I intend to learn whether your mother’s words are true or not. I cannot do so while she is held captive by the Duke, so I will give you what you want. I will aid you in her rescue."

  Jerris simply sat frozen in apparent shock. Finally, he stammered out a response. "Do you… Do you really mean that? You will help me free her?" Darien nodded yes, and Jerris burst into tears. "Thank you! Oh thank you! Praise the everlasting light of the stars!"

  "Do not thank me prematurely. In return, I may ask for that talisman," the shade cautioned his suddenly tearful companion.

  "I would give it without hesitation to see her free again, but what do you mean that you may ask for it?"

  "I meant just what I said," he retorted. "I may ask for it in payment, and I may not. It depends on what I learn from your mother. In all likelihood, I will either take it, or help you find a suitable place to hide it. It’s simply too dangerous for one as young and inexperienced as you to wander around with it. A wench told me about it before you even walked into the inn. If she told me, she might have told any shady character who offered her a coin."

  "You mean there are shadier characters than you?" Jerris said, suddenly in good spirits.

  Darien chuckled a bit. The lad could not possibly know how truly clever his comment had been. "Perhaps not, but there are certainly less agreeable ones. Enough of that though, I must plan the rescue.” Then he walked down the opposite passage from the one they had come in and Jerris quickly followed behind.

  Chapter 9: The Rescue

  The calculating shade spent several days planning the rescue attempt. In his typically methodical fashion, he scouted the castle with careful precision. The Executioner always carefully considered every option, and tried to anticipate every possibility, lessons learned well during his education. He had used these same skills many times since, tracking minor criminals, obtaining items for those with enough coin to pay, and other such tasks for which he was well suited. Indeed, this would not be the first, or even the second, time he had been tasked with extricating a prisoner from captivity. Still, this time felt different. He took more care than usual. He had already begun to doubt the wisdom of helping this young man. For whatever reason, the cautious half-elf felt a foreboding, as if some unknown danger was lurking just outside his perception. Nevertheless, the bargain had been struck, and he had resolved himself to proceed in spite of his misgivings.

  Darien quickly discovered Jerris to be mostly worthless. On the first expedition to the castle, Jerris got himself lost in the woods surrounding Kantu, and it took the better part of half a day to find him. When they finally reached the castle, it became apparent Jerris knew almost nothing useful about it, despite having lived there for most of his life. He had never even scouted the castle’s exterior wall in any sort of strategic manner.

  Jerris knew little more about the castle’s interior, only the basic layout. Even in this, Jerris seemed uncertain. More importantly, Jerris had no idea how many guards were in the castle at one time, and where they were typically stationed. He had only the vaguest idea of what weapons and armor they possessed. ‘Spears’ and ‘armor’ were far too vague for the Executioner’s precise nature. Still, Jerris knew where his mother was kept, and he knew what locks and defenses would have to be passed in order to reach her, so he was not entirely useless.

  The boy’s presence had proved more of a distraction than an asset, so after the initial attempt, Darien simply scouted himself. Jerris protested bitterly, but Darien held his ground on the matter. He had no mind to teach the boy about the finer points of infiltration, and found Jerris’ tendency to interrupt his concentration with pointless conversation to be infuriating.

  It took just two days for the Executioner to search the castle exterior to his satisfaction. The castle stood atop a hill, the highest in many miles, a few miles to the north and west of the town. A dirt road meandered back and forth up the hill from the town to the castle gate. The castle was fairly typical of northern castles, smooth red gray granite, precisely cut, without mortar, man-made but of dwarven design. It had been built in an earlier age, before the Goblin Wars, when the northlands were far more densely populated.

  The outer wall was more or less square, though the shape of the hill dictated that the eastern wall be longer than the western, so the northern and southern wall both angled slightly towards one another. The formidable corner towers and crenellated outer walls provided a commanding field of view, or rather they would have if the Duke had bothered to keep the area around the walls clear of trees and brush. However, peace makes men complacent, and for several generations, the defenses of the castle had been largely ignored in favor of other pursuits, and the forest had been allowed to grow right up to the walls of the castle. Some of the larger pines reached well above the height of the walls, and smaller leafed trees gave plenty of cover all the way to the wall itself in most places. The outer wall stood only about eight to ten feet high in most sections, with a few near the keep as high as fifteen. The walls’ thickness varied a great deal from place to place, and a few lengths were particularly narrow, only two or three stones thick.

  The castle had begun to decay from a combination of very old age and a lack of upkeep. The ground around the base of the walls had eroded where water had run off the walls, creating deep gullies. The stony ground was so badly worn that in several lengths along the southern wall, the ground dropped several feet just outside the wall. Darien quietly wondered to himself what had possessed Jerris to attempt to scale the wall. Between the trees and the added height, it seemed a foolish choice. He even found Jerris’ abandoned grappling rope, dangling from a tree branch. Apparently no one had bothered to remove it. Jerris had obviously failed to account for the extra dis
tance of the steeply sloping ground. Darien could only shake his head and hope that the young man would live long enough to outgrow his foolishness, though the prospect of that appeared less than promising.

  Possible points of entry were the focal points of the Executioner’s scouting. He noted several small sewer openings that allowed water to drain from inside the walls. He had often made use of such vulnerabilities to infiltrate castles in the past. Unfortunately, the tunnels were too small to navigate easily, and Jerris, of course, had no idea where the tunnels eventually led or whether they could even be opened from the inside, so he ruled these out as a point of entry fairly quickly, but they were still possible exits if escape became difficult. Darien scoured the wall for any secret passages that might exist. Many old castles had secret escape tunnels that ran several miles under the surface so that noblemen could escape in the event of a siege. However, he discovered nothing in the rocky soil.

  He next turned his focus to the main entrance, an arched passage with an iron portcullis, which could be raised and lowered, situated at the middle of the passage to close the way. It must have been quite old, for most of it had rusted to a dull red. The chains and wheels that operated the portcullis must have been no better, for the screeching of metal on metal made it possible to tell from anywhere around the castle when it was in motion. It seemed likely, based on the layout of the stones, that the castle had originally possessed inner and outer doors in addition to the portcullis, products of a more dangerous time, but they were long gone.

  The shade also studied the comings and goings at the castle. He had suspected, and Jerris had confirmed, that most of the guards did not live in the castle, but had houses or rooms in the town. As a result, the guard changes took far longer than was typical of castles where all the guards lived on the castle grounds. Darien made special note of those times when the portcullis was raised. It stood open most days, and was closed at nightfall, opening again at least once each night, near midnight, for a changing of guards. From a distance, the guards seemed careless and undisciplined, spending more time exchanging gossip than on their duties, an unsurprising revelation given the earlier encounter with the Duke's men.