Son of hell: Blood of wolves

by Michaela Burdová

  "Come on! I swear I won´t hurt you, is that clear?"

  "How good is the oath of a Son of Hell?" she said sarcastically. "Should I believe that you don’t want to kill me after I tortured you?"

  "Sure, I want to kill you. Unfortunately, doing so now would be inconvenient. I need that flower!And I... somehow believe that you really do have a soul."

  "We don’t have to be enemies, Neran."

  "Not friends either. Now throw away that dagger."

  "It’s my defence against darkwolves. I won’t do it. As I said, I cannot kill you anyway." With that she closed the whole discussion and started walking again. He caught up with her quickly. "What do you mean?"

  "It has something to do with my gift. If I want to keep my soul, I mustn’t take life - any life. The dagger will hold a darkwolf back, but it won´t kill him. It might kill you, but I just wouldn’t do it. I would lose my soul."

  Neran stared at her. "Is that why you have the stick? Is that your only defence?"

  Liadel nodded and Neran whistled. "Wow, I would hate to be in your shoes."

  "All actions have consequences. My soul is a gift and I have to earn it. I will never take someone's life again."

  "Even if you were threatened with death?"

  "Not even then."

  "That, I have to see."

  Liadel's face tightened. "You don’t understand. It doesn’t make any sense to talk about it with you."

  "But I do understand, believe me, it just seems strange to me."

  Liadel paid no further attention to him. After a while they arrived in the village of Geiwö. It looked completely different from the villages of the Northern Elves. The Royal Elves built their villages in the trunks of giant trees between the roots that protruded from the soil. In the middle of the trunks there would be small holes overgrown with green climbing plants. Neran remembered that the elves only needed to touch the bark of a tree, whisper a word and it would open up and allow them to enter. Inside, they would have built-in rooms all the way up into the branches.

  Elven cities, with the exception of Yldiel, were generally found in the trunks of giant trees that had long gone to sleep and had allowed elves to settle inside them. Also common were houses built from the white wood of the okkan tree which had succumbed to pests.

  Neran walked slowly down a narrow path bordered by elegant lamps, looking at the abandoned tree-houses and inhaling the air as he went.

  "Something's wrong here," he said, as a worrying premonition seized him. There was something sinister in the air. Neran could smell death.

  "Oh no," Liadel sighed as she ran over to the elven trees. The climbing plants had been stripped away and the holes were open. When Neran looked inside, all he could see was dead bodies.

  "There are more of them over here!" Liadel cried. Neran turned to see more bodies strewn outside in the moss which had turned crimson red with their blood. The elves bodies were mutilated beyond recognition, their bellies and chests torn to shreds.

  Neran had known many of the dead faces. He suddenly felt numb and empty. He looked at Liadel. Although the corpses were a hideous sight, the elven seemed not to be moved by what see saw. She only had sadness in her face.She had seen similar things before.

  "Who did it?" asked Neran, and suddenly froze to the spot. He felt something invisible and frosty crawl over his back. It was a lifeless, corpse-like chill. The hairs on his neck prickled. He turned to see a figure among the trees.

  "It was me," said the figure. Neran knew it was a man. He wore a black hooded cloak which trailed behind him as he approached them.

  "We've met before, remember, werewolf?" His voice was human, almost friendly. Neran took a step back and in his mouth he felt the sour taste of evil.

  "By all the Gods,” Liadel whispered, terror written over her face. “We've got to get out of here! Right away!”

  The man turned towards her and stood absolutely still. When he spoke again, his voice no longer had its human touch.

  It was a hoarse wheeze.

  "Is that you?" he bellowed.

  Liadel backed up and bumped into Neran. He grabbed her by the shoulders. He understood what was going on. It was the Twelfth Demon. Out of nowhere, a black mist began to shroud the man, wrapping itself around him like a maelstrom, expanding and thickening all the time. It spread its rippling claws out sideways and absorbed everything in its path, plunging the village into darkness.

  Neran turned around and started to run. "Let’s get out of here!" he shouted and pulled Liadel along with him. The man behind them had lost his human form and was now a towering seven foot tall twisted black shadow. The demon stretched out its talons to catch its prey and rolled towards them as an intangible piece of darkness.

  "There is no escape!" he roared with a booming voice as deep as a bottomless pit.

  Before Neran and Liadel knew it, he appeared in front of them and blocked their path. He pointed to Liadel with a large claw.

  "Don’t run away from me!"

  Neran stood in front of her. "Don’t even try it! I’ll tear you to pieces!"

  The demon laughed a laugh that could burst eardrums. It sounded like a crumbling rock.

  "You are not strong enough to do that! Nobody is strong enough! Not even the last Son of Hell!"

  He swung his huge arm and Neran flew backwards like a rag doll. The demon moved in on Liadel.

  "No!" she cried, stretching out her hands to stop him. "Stay away!" But the Darkness wrapped its tentacles around the elven.

  Neran sprang up and bared his fangs. His shirt ripped as his body stretched into its lupine form. Neran drew his sword and instantly found himself next to the demon.

  Neran slashed into the Darkness, but the Twelfth vanished like mist, only to reappear again on his other side.

  Neran had quick reflexes and swung his sword for a second time, the blade ripping through the black body. In response, the demon grew larger still, absolved Neran of his sword and threw him to the ground.

  The Twelfth burst into an awful laugh.

  His claws once again reached out for Liadel.

  Neran transformed himself, jumped on the demon’s back and was surprised to find that he didn´t dissolve in the mist. The demon clearly had a physical form when he wanted it. The demon tried to shake him off, but Neran sank his teeth into the spot where he suspected his backbone would be. The Twelfth screamed frantically.

  The taste was bitter and the texture like cotton wool.

  The demon flinched, but Neran did not let go. He ripped the dark flesh from the demon´s body, biting and tearing, while the Darkness around him thrashed about. The body beneath him shook violently, and for a moment, Neran thought that the demon would burst. Then, with a roar and a puff of smoke, it vanished.

  Neran fell to the ground, his chest heaving, his mouth filled with the strangest of tastes, his tongue as dry and as rough as sandpaper. His sword lay in front of him.

  Liadel stood there as motionless as a statue. She seemed to be in shock, but snapped out of it a moment later. She knelt down close to Neran, his animal form appearing not to repel or scare her. This left a strong impression on him, stronger than he would ever have admitted. When her small hand sank into the hair on his flank, he flinched. Something inside him drove away his animal instincts and he returned to his senses.

  He transformed back. "I guess I didn’t kill him, did I?"

  "No. You cannot kill a demon. They can only be put to sleep. But you weakened him. He had to retreat to regain his strength." She paused. "He shouldn´t have been here ..."

  "What?"

  "The wizard said that he was far away and that he didn´t suspect that I had come back. We should not have met."

  "Is that why you wanted to go to the village of Reana?"

  Liadel reluctantly nodded in agreement.

  "I bit him," Neran murmured in surprise. "I almost gobbled up a demon!"

  “Individually, they are not so powerful, but bring them together and they are almost invinc
ible."

  "So that´s what a not so powerful demon looks like?" Neran stared at her. "You must be kidding!"

  "The Twelfth after the Thirteen is the strongest of them all."

  "You mean after you, he is the strongest of them all."

  "Once, it used to be like that. Alone, he is far from reaching the powers he could have if he was with his brothers." She paused again and looked away into the distance. "Everything is about to change, Neran."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Now the Twelfth knows about me, he will want to set our brothers free."

  "So what?"

  "He can only do it with my help."

  "Don´t help him then."

  "I won´t, but …"

  “Does it mean that because of you I’ll permanently have to look over my shoulder to see if a demon is chasing me?”

  “Is your personal well-being the only thing that interests you? Do you understand what's going on here? If he manages to set the others free ...”

  "Your imagination is running wild," Neran said, waving his hand to brush the notion away. He got to his feet. "The Spirits of the Land will go after him. They'll get him."

  "You don’t know him. The Twelfth is smart."

  "Hey, today I chased him away. I can do the same the next time too."

  Liadel stood up too and looked him straight in the eyes. "You should run now, leave me at his mercy, and go your own way. With me your life is at risk. Why are the Tears of Étarlinaso important to you?"

  "Don’t be so curious, or you'll age quickly."

  "I'm aging slowly."

  Neran rolled his eyes. Liadel averted her gaze and looked down at his tattered trousers and smirked. They were so torn that they barely held to his body. "Well," Neran said, shrugging his shoulders, "it looks sexy doesn’t it?"

  "You'll have to tell me," Liadel said, returning to the topic of conversation. "You can´t touch them yourself. I'll have to pass them to whoever they are for."

  "All right, I will tell you when the time comes, but not now." His gaze wandered through the dead village. "We came too late."

  * * *

  Aragen fumed with rage. As soon as they returned to the hastily built camp, she had walked away along a narrow path into the arms of the silent trees. She needed peace and solitude in order to reflect. Her wolves were returning to their human forms, either tired after a good hunt, or the opposite, playful and full of energy. Aragen had promised them that in the village of Reana they could devour whoever and as much as they wanted. That stupid wizard had thought he could outsmart her. Instead, he had ended up in the stomach of one of her wolves.

  Aragen however, had not expected to meet Neran there.

  She had immediately sent a spy to follow him. She was definitely not going to let him get away after eluding her for so long. Her interest had also been aroused by the fact that Neran had somehow and for some reason hooked up with Liadel, the Thirteenth Demon.

  She paused and leaned back against a tree. Yes, Neran’s offspring would be strong. He had killed Kar, one of her fittest men. She knew from the beginning that a great power was hiding inside him. The two of us belong together, she thought. Together, we will pillage the land and devour human flesh.

  A skinny darkwolf with long legs and shaggy, light hair ran by. In an instant, it transformed into Drel. The girl's eyes still shone with the excitement of the hunt and her face was smeared with the blood of her victims.

  "Are you angry, ma’am? We could have captured them.You didn’t have to keep your word."

  "I didn’t, but ..." she sighed. "Neran killed Kar. He deserved a little recognition."

  "You're so generous, ma’am," Drel said admiringly. "I noticed that you recognized his companion, the elven."

  "Yes, Drel, I did. She is the Thirteenth Demon. I now know why I found it so difficult to feel her. She has a soul."

  Drel's eyes widened. "She is a demon with soul?"

  "Strange, isn’t it?"

  "What if the Twelfth learns about it?"

  "He won´t."

  Drel was visibly astonished. "He won´t?"

  "No. I´ve just devised a perfect plan. With it, I won´t need help from any demons. But first, I need to check something out."

  "Check what out, ma'am?"

  "Whether I and Liadel are really connected," she whispered, looking at the tops of pine trees. Dusk was approaching fast. Aragen felt the connection from the very first moment. She should have guessed that the Twelfth would conceal the whole truth.

  Without a word, she turned and went back to the camp, Drel closely at her heels. The darkwolves devoutly raised their heads when she stood in front of them.

  "When darkness falls, we’ll return to the village and finish what we’ve started. The feast is not over yet!"

  "Wow," Drel whispered into her ear, "you are so deceptive!"

  Aragen smiled. "I know."

  Chapter 13

  Monster and Mystery

  Neran knelt beside the body of an elf whom he had known. His name was Ofil and his family had once taken him in and helped him to regain his strength.Ofil’s dead eyes were now wide open, staring into nothingness.Neran closed them.The elf had a torn stomach and his blood was all over the place. His wife and daughter had also been mutilated and were lying nearby.

  Neran clenched his fist and thrust his claws deep into his own skin. He felt his blood flow between his fingers. He was furious. If he had only come a moment earlier, maybe, just maybe .... No, he would most probably not have been able to rescue them anyway. The demon had massacred the entire village without much sweat. Neran had seen with his own eyes what had happened to the priests who were hiding in the tavern in the town of Harken. The Twelfth was swift and nothing could distract him.

  He wanted to tear the creature to bits, but it was not his goal. As Liadel explained, demons cannot be killed, they must be shackled again. Catching them was the job of the Spirits of the Land. Neran thanked the Gods that only one was at large, not counting the Thirteenth.

  Liadel knelt beside him and put her hand on the forehead of the dead man. She closed her eyes and whispered: “Élien sey kallï, leä e walas.”

  Neran watched her. "This is the noble tongue of the Supreme Ones."

  "May the Spirits take up his soul and let it rest in peace."

  Neran bowed his head. "Thank you."

  Liadel touched his shoulder and put her hand on his heart. He felt her touch through his shirt. It was gentle and pleasingly warm. He looked into her eyes.

  "I am sorry that they lost their lives," she said sincerely. "And I'm sorry for your pain."

  He took her hand and squeezed it tightly without hurting her. Liadel smiled and stood up, interrupting their connection. Neran realized that he did not want her to move away from him.

  With heavy hearts they decided to push on, leaving the scene behind them. The elves deserved a decent burial according to Elven rituals. Neran was confident that the Royal Guard would find them soon. He remembered that they regularly searched and guarded the forest.

  As they walked, Neran began to wonder why the demon had murdered the priests and why he had now murdered ordinary elves. He could understand why he would pick on priests. They had after all, centuries ago, helped to confine him and the other demons. Besides, devouring their hearts would give him strength. But why kill insignificant elves? Then something occurred to him.

  "Do demons eat entrails?" he asked Liadel. The elven turned a little pale.

  "Yes, they do. It's their nourishment."

  "Is that why he killed the whole village?"

  "I don’t know. One demon usually doesn´t need so many victims to be satisfied."

  "Maybe this one has a bigger appetite," Neran sneered. "Or he's just having fun."

  They walked through the forest until nightfall. When the first stars appeared and the moon began to shine, they set up camp. Neran wanted to a make fire, but Liadel stopped him.

  "You have to pay respect to the Soil and ask it
for permission."

  Neran raised his eyebrows. "What kind of permission?"

  "Permission to light a fire."

  Neran chuckled. "How does a piece of dirt respond?"

  "I’ll hear it."

  "I see," Neran grimaced, refraining from further comment. He placed his hand on the moss and said in common Elvish: “Fa rej´tao, enlia es kay.”

  Liadel listened attentively, then nodded with a smile. "The Soil and the Forest agree."

  "Great," Neran said with a grin and started to make the fire. He piled a few sticks and some dead wood on top of each other, struck sparks with two stones, and waited for the smallest of flames to take hold. As the darkness gradually thickened the dancing flames cast dark, twisted shadows around them.

  They remained silent for a long time, staring into the flames. "What´s it like?" Neran asked suddenly. Liadel stared at him with her big eyes. "What do you mean?"

  "To be so powerful. To devour the entrails of your own kind, not having a physical body..."

  "I don’t want to remember," she replied, without looking away.

  "I'm sure it wasn’t that bad."

  "On the contrary. The memories are too alluring.I’m tempted."

  Her honesty surprised Neran. The fire sputtered.

  "Is it true that werewolves have a burning flame inside them? Apparently, you can spit fire like dragons. Unfortunately, in my entire existence I have only ever seen it done by one of you."

  "The fire comes from the depths of hell. It is a part of us, but it serves more as a defence against a larger force than as a direct weapon. Whenever we use it, it burns our throats. We need to have water on hand to extinguish the pain."

  "You have always lived with this feeling, haven’t you? You were born a werewolf. The constant craving for flesh, the killer instincts, the seductive aroma of evil ... You grew up with them didn´t you? You´ve learnt to live with them since your childhood."

  Neran had no idea where she was heading with the conversation. He looked at her. Her gaze was clouded. Her eyes reflected the tongues of the fire, as wild and as beautiful as her red mane. The sight of her was breathtaking for Neran, so he forbade himself to look at her for too long.