The Demon's Blade

by Steven Drake

  Within a week, Darien had completed his preparations. He set the date for the rescue, a week and a day after his first meeting with Jerris. The boy displayed the typical irritating curiosity of youth, and continued to pester him for details about the plan. The older half-elf endured the interrogations quietly, and either lied or evaded the questions with half-truths or vague riddles. It really didn't matter whether Jerris knew the plan or not. Jerris was clearly useless in a fight, and nearly useless in all other situations. When the time came, all Jerris would have to do is point out the way to his mother’s cell.

  On the day of the rescue, the two would-be rescuers slept through the day, awakened in the afternoon, and ate silently. Jerris' face showed equal parts fear, anxiety, and excitement. Darien, on the other hand, kept himself quiet, calm, and focused. When the time came to set out, he simply said to Jerris, "It is time."

  "Right," Jerris said. "What are you planning exactly?"

  "You'll see," Darien said in his usual cold monotone.

  "You're not going to tell me anything? Wouldn't it be easier if you'd tell me what you're going to do?"

  "If I thought telling you would make any difference, I would. Just follow along quietly."

  "Fine," Jerris sulked and continued to grumble, but Darien paid it no more attention than the chittering of the squirrels in the trees.

  They made their way through the wooded hills towards the eastern wall, where the plan would begin. The sun was just setting as they arrived near one of the drains. The drain opening was small, just about two feet wide. Over the years, the water from the drainage sewer had worn down the rock around the opening so that the bottom portion of the iron grating simply hung in the air. The water had eaten into the rock face, creating a small overhang. A few inches of rock and wall reached out over a small pool of brown water that had gathered where the water fell from the drain to the rocky ground below.

  "What's the point of coming here?" Jerris asked. "We can't very well fit through that little hole, unless you have some magic to turn us to the size of mice."

  "Speak quietly, if you must speak at all. You've failed at this task three times as I recall, so you might consider focusing your efforts on paying attention instead of making useless conversation. I've no need of your advice," Darien said in a harsh whisper. "We're early, stay quiet and out of sight, we need to wait a while." The two spoke no further. The leaves of the trees, now arrayed in their autumn colors, gold, red, orange, and every shade between rustled overhead in the cool wind. Darien sat on the ground against a tree, shutting his eyes to rest and prepare himself for what was to come. Jerris, on the other hand, fidgeted nervously, drumming his fingers against the back of his opposite hand and switching hands every few seconds. Every few minutes, he switched from fidgeting to pacing back and forth, occasionally doing both at once. Night fell, and the great moon had climbed high overhead when Darien got up, crept close to the wall, and put his ear to the stone.

  "What are you listening for?" Jerris asked.

  "Be quiet!" Darien whispered harshly. Jerris let out an audible groan and returned to quietly waiting. Eventually, the older half-elf heard the characteristic grinding of the iron portcullis that he had been waiting for. Without hesitation, he sprang into action. "Stand back," he commanded firmly. Then he walked up to the iron grating, reached out, and grasped the grate with both hands. Then, he began channeling the earth spell. The rocks began to tremble slightly, then cracked and broke all around the drain and down towards the pool. Darien leapt backwards several yards, surprising Jerris by appearing suddenly beside the youth several feet from the wall. He grabbed Jerris' arm and led him quickly away. The chain reaction of falling rock continued until the weight of the heavy stone wall was too much for the crumbling earth beneath it. The wall crashed and slid down the side of the hill with a terrible roar of thundering destruction. Trees fell and broke beneath the weight of the hard stones as they rolled and tumbled far down the hill, crushing everything in their path.

  "Amazing!" Jerris cried, impressed with the massive destruction wrought by what appeared to be a simple spell. "So that's how we're going to get in."

  "Actually, no," Darien responded. "This way." He then headed off towards the southwest along the wall towards the gate. A few hurried minutes later, they were looking out towards the main gate. Just as the Executioner had hoped, the gate was open, and completely abandoned. He chuckled in satisfaction, as his plan was working perfectly so far. He crept up to the gate and listened for the guards. The sounds of commotion, raised voices, and the slow rumbling of rubble settling into place echoed through the walled courtyard, but there was no one in sight. No doubt the castle guards were busily dealing with the unexpected collapse of part of the eastern wall, or at least standing around gawking at it. Darien motioned for Jerris, and the lad walked toward him. Jerris' mouth hung open in sheer amazement, as the two of them simply walked through the open gate into the deserted courtyard.

  "This is where you take over," Darien nodded to Jerris as he spoke. "You know where we go from this point I take it, so lead the way. I'll take care of any resistance we encounter. You concentrate on staying alive and finding your mother." Jerris nodded back and headed toward a heavy wooden door in the castle keep just opposite the main gate across the courtyard.

  The door opened outward and led down a long hallway with several doors on either side. Still they met with no resistance as the hallway was just as deserted as the courtyard. The passage, dark and windowless, was lighted by candles on either wall, or rather it would have been had the hour not been so late. Jerris lit up the magic torch and lit the way forward, though his older companion had no need of any light to see. The lad moved down the hallway swiftly, and the wary shade followed behind, carefully listening for any sound within the keep. The commotion outside was still audible even inside the keep walls, but there was no other sound. Another wooden door stood at the end of the hall. Jerris tugged on the handle, but the door was locked. Darien put his finger to the lock. A few sparks flew out from his finger, and the lock clicked. Beyond the door lay a spiral stone staircase, which could be taken up or down. "This way," Jerris said, starting down the stairs, and into the darkness below. At the bottom of the stairs two floors below, they stood looking down into another long hallway, which appeared to intersect at right angles with a second hallway some way ahead. The first section of the hall, before the intersection, was very much like the hallway above, with wooden doors on either side. Beyond the intersecting hallways were iron cells, none of which appeared to be occupied. A few candles still burned in sconces, lighting the hallway down to the intersection. The air was damp, stagnant, and filled with the usual dungeon odors of filth, vermin, and death.

  "There's usually a guard sitting there," Jerris said, pointing towards an empty chair about halfway down to the intersecting hallway.

  "Yes, he's gone for the same reason that we were able to walk through the gate unhindered. I waited until the guard was changed to cast that spell. I was gambling that the Duke's men were mostly undisciplined and would easily lose track of their duties during a crisis. The risk, of course, is that there are more guards actually in the castle. Let’s hope our luck holds. Now, which way from here?"

  Jerris led down the hallway and turned right at the intersection. Darien followed until Jerris stopped at one of the wooden doorways. "Here," Jerris said. The shade moved his hand, breaking the lock just as before, and they entered not a dank cell, but a large room, twenty feet long and equally wide, not unlike a room at an inn. Colored tapestries lined the room, red, blue, purple, and gold. A green carpet covered the floor. To the left stood a large bookshelf with dozens of books. The mixed odors of various perfumes and oils created a pleasant aroma, and masked the stench of the dungeon outside. There was even a fireplace against the far wall. It seemed rather elaborate for a dungeon cell, but this was neither the time nor the place to pick at loose threads. Once the escape was accomplished, he would have his answers.

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nbsp; A luxurious bed with a thick mattress and deep blue blankets and pillows sat in the furthest corner of the room. Upon the bed sat a woman, tall and slender, with long pointed ears that stretched a few inches above her head. She was unmistakably a pure-blood elf woman. Her long golden hair matched her son’s, and it stretched down her back and to the floor. She wore a brilliant green dress that sparkled even in the dim candlelight. Her bright green eyes matched her dress nearly perfectly, and contrasted with her pale skin. Darien had not seen an elf woman since his mother died, and she looked so like his mother from this distance that he found it difficult not to weep, so close seemed the memory from another lifetime. However, he banished the thought a moment later, and again was focused on the present.

  "Mother!" Jerris cried excitedly. He ran to her without hesitation.

  "Jerris!" the woman exclaimed in response. "You shouldn't have come. I told you not to come for me." Her voice was high-pitched, clear, and melodious, but careworn, the voice of a devoted mother filled with both joy and concern at the same time.

  "And I told you I wouldn't leave you here as a captive," Jerris protested. "It doesn't matter now. We're getting out of here." Jerris embraced his mother warmly. The woman seemed not to have noticed her son’s companion as yet, and in that moment, the shade perceived doubt and uncertainty in her eyes, as if she were faced with some dilemma. Whatever the true nature of her captivity was, it appeared she was reluctant to leave.

  "How did you get in?" she asked, "And what was that noise outside?"

  "It was him." Jerris answered, pointing at his companion who still stood just inside the doorway.

  "Who are you?" the elf woman asked.

  "My name is Darien. And you are?"

  "Leianna, did my son not tell you?"

  "No, he only calls you mother."

  "Such a child he is, even now," Leianna said. Jerris turned red and looked crossly towards the grinning shade.

  At that point, a loud thump echoed through the dungeon, the ground trembled. It might have been more of the aftermath of the wall collapse, or it might have been the gate closing. Either way, it reminded Darian that this was no time for talk. "There will be time for this later. We need to be going. There's no telling when the guards will decide to return to their posts."

  "Alright, let's go," Leianna had apparently overcome whatever doubts she kept, and the three of them headed out the door. Darien led Jerris and Leianna back out and down the hallway. The guard’s chair remained unoccupied, and they reached the stairs unchallenged. At the top of the stairs, he saw that the door to the main hallway was now standing open, which was a problem, because he knew he had left it closed. He held up his hand, motioned Jerris and Leianna to be quiet and stay still, then peered into the hallway. Empty. Another stroke of luck. A cautious Darien silently signaled his two charges to follow and they moved quietly down the hallway.

  When they reached the far door, Darien put his ear to the door. The sounds of commotion had died down, and he could hear voices speaking somewhere outside, something about another section of wall collapsing, something about sending a messenger to town. He was about to push the door open, but then he heard a slight creak. He wheeled round to see one of the doors on the right hand side of the hallway open, and the light of a candle creep into the dark hallway.

  A short, balding, portly man with a scraggly white beard appeared at the door. He wore a silk nightgown and carried a candle in his right hand. Jerris looked towards Darien, with his eyes asking the obvious question, what to do. The Executioner acted without hesitation, charging down the hallway towards the as yet unidentified man. The man turned and saw the two intruders and the escapee, but before he could make a sound, the Executioner maneuvered behind him and put a dagger at his throat. "If you wish to see another sunrise, you will be silent," The Executioner hissed in the man’s ear. The man nodded yes.

  "That's the Duke," Jerris exclaimed, as he ran up behind them.

  "Quiet!" Darien said, then turned to the frightened man again. "Well then, I had hoped to make it out of here without trouble, but it appears that my luck has ended. Nevertheless, I at least have a valuable hostage to ensure we escape here. Now, head for the front gate. Once we're safely away, we'll let you go."

  "NO!" Jerris cried. "Let me kill him. He deserves it for everything he's done.” The youth drew his short sword and moved his arm into position to stab the Duke in his left side while he was subdued. Darien, however, grabbed Jerris’ arm and pushed it away, giving the lad a stern look as he did so.

  "Jerris, no, you mustn't kill him!" Leianna said, running up to her son. "I don't want blood on your hands. I didn't want this. That's why I sent you away."

  "You sent me away? But why?" Jerris asked. His mouth hung open in shock and he appeared ready to burst with questions, in an incredulous tone, but he was interrupted by the Duke.

  "So Jerris, it's you, is it?" the Duke sneered, apparently not as terrified as he had first appeared. "Couldn't do the job yourself so you hired this mercenary to do your work for you. Where did you find him?" The Duke's voice dripped with the unmistakable venom of condescension so typical of human nobility. Darien despised it, the contempt, the arrogance, the undeserved sense of superiority. He hated it, as he hated few other things in the world.

  "That is not your concern," he interrupted, and the portly Duke fell silent. Jerris stood lost in his confusion, open mouthed, having clearly lost all sense of what was going on. This was neither the time nor the place for long held secrets to be told; the guards might come any moment. Darien sensed the situation spinning out of control. If he had to kill ten or twenty guards to escape, the news would draw all sorts of unwanted attention. He had to get all of them under control, and quickly. "I am not a mercenary, and I have my own business with this woman that is no concern of yours. I have no quarrel with you, Duke Parham, and have no wish to kill you, but this woman will no longer be your prisoner."

  "What did Jerris tell you? What do you think is going on here?" the Duke asked incredulously. “Come now Jerris. Did you simply trick this mercenary into believing that Leianna was held here against her will, or were you fool enough to convince even yourself?” Darien’s impatience and frustration grew quickly. It seemed clear that the situation was not as simple as it had seemed, but there was no time to interrogate the Duke. His words could hardly be taken as truth, as he had every reason to lie to save himself. The more pressing concern was Jerris' emotional state. The Duke's words might lead the headstrong lad to do something rash and dangerous. The situation had to be put to an end, and quickly. Darien whirled the old Duke around to face him, and slammed him hard against the wooden door where he’d first emerged, hoping he would be able to frighten the old fool with his piercing eyes and shadow magic, but this one was tougher than he appeared. Despite the rough handling, the Duke had managed to hold onto the candle in his right hand, a fact the usually careful shade had missed, and a critical error, for in the candlelight, the Duke got a clear look at his assailant’s face. "You!" The Duke exclaimed. "I know you. You're the one that shade was looking for. You’re the half-elf he showed me in the mirror." The cold heart of the Executioner now raced, but what had to be done was clear enough. He drew his sword with his free hand, and thrust it deep into the old man's shoulder, just below the collarbone, then pushed it cleanly through and into the oak wood of the door, holding the man painfully in place. Blood stained both the door and the Duke's dressing gown a dark crimson as the candle fell to the floor. Darien fixed his eyes upon the Duke, holding him with his shadow sight.

  "That should keep you still, and silent." The Executioner’s voice changed, becoming deeper, violent, and more threatening. "You might have spared yourself a great deal of pain by simply staying quiet. Instead, it seems we must be foes. You will now tell me who showed you this mirror. Jerris, watch the door to the courtyard. Hold it shut as if it held your soul into your body." The harsh and commanding voice of the Executioner shook Jerris out of his distraction, and he
quickly did as he was asked. The Duke breathed hard and erratically, recovering from the shock of the blow. "Speak!" Darien’s now terrifying voice commanded.

  "It was… his name was… Avirosa," Duke Parham stammered. The Executioner recognized this name, Avirosa the Wraith, a fellow shade, and a formidable foe.

  “And when was he here? How long ago?”

  “Months ago… Near midsummer…” Duke Parham whimpered. The wound was taking its toll on the portly nobleman. He was weakening and seemed to have given up getting out of the situation alive. Soon he would lose consciousness, but the Executioner had gotten the information he needed. Darien removed the spell, and then the sword. The Duke collapsed in a heap on the floor.

  "We have to go, NOW!" Darien said at almost a shout. "There’s no point in stealth anymore."

  Jerris and Leianna both looked somewhat more terrified of their rescuer than they were of the Duke or the guards outside, but that was just as well, so much the better to keep them doing what they were told. The only thing that mattered to his troubled mind was that his trail had been picked up, and now he would have to flee the region. He stormed down the hallway and pushed the door open.

  "Take the woman then, for all the good it will do," the voice was that of the Duke, who still lay on the floor, but he retained enough strength to hurl a final insult. "I know your name, sorcerer. You're Darien the Executioner, traitor to the Order of the Shade, the one the Demon King is looking for. He's been scouring the world for you. You'll have no safe haven in these lands now. I'll tell the heads of the great houses of the dwarves and you'll be found."

  For a moment, the Executioner paused, and wondered, is it wise to leave him alive, now that he's seen my face? For several tortured seconds, he wrestled with his own instincts. His experience and training screamed at him to silence the witness, kill this man who probably deserved to die anyway, but he still remembered Ezra’s warning about taking life needlessly. Finally, he decided to let him go, choosing the unknown risk of leaving a witness over the known risk of losing himself to the Demon Sword.