by Nichols, TJ
“Softhearted,” his father countered.
“Big money.” That was why warlocks went into healing.
It placated his father, and he nodded as though he could respect a love of money more than he could the desire to help. How involved with the college was his father? Was he one of the warlocks releasing demons into the streets to create havoc and reinforce the lies spun to the media?
His mother served up dinner while Angus and his father sat at the table in awkward silence. Was his father looking for flaws or signs that Angus knew too much? What would Angus have to report to the underground? All well, no news. How long until that was no longer enough… how long until his father trusted him?
They could be waiting until the glaciers receded and Demonside had surface rivers.
“The tutor is really helping. He makes things really clear.”
“Good. Sometimes you have to hear things a new way to understand. I want you to pass. We have a family reputation to maintain.”
Three generations of warlocks before Angus. Had any of them ever questioned what was going on? The clock on the wall ticked, counting out the silence. That was a question he was never going to be able to ask his father.
His father cleared his throat. “I heard you saw Jim.”
Angus glanced up sharply. “Yeah.” There was no point in denying it, but he could certainly deflect. “He wanted to show off his new girlfriend. I don’t know why I bothered. It would’ve been better if I’d had someone on my arm.”
“You don’t have time to date. You need to get your grades up.”
“Thus the not dating, Dad.” Thanks for your concern.
Angus shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t as though he’d been worried about what might happen to his son’s mind when they were trying to play seek-and-destroy in there.
His mother placed chicken pie in front of him. She’d made his favorite. He smiled up at her. He’d missed her while living on campus. He hadn’t missed living with his father. In that respect living on campus was better than living at home. Before it had been clear he had magic, she’d encouraged him to chase his dreams. One of his favorite toys had been a medical set… He remembered his father scoffing ten years ago and saying something like in the future they wouldn’t need doctors for anything. It would all be done with magic.
Then when he’d been ten, he’d felt it. He’d be drawn to certain places because he felt better there. He’d said nothing. Everyone knew the signs to look out for, and he’d spent almost a year trying to hide them because even back then, he hadn’t wanted to be like his father.
A need to be outside. Restlessness. Intense focus. Anger that resulted in objects levitating. He’d shattered a mirror when his father had started hassling him. In hindsight his father had probably been testing him.
“Thanks, Mom. I didn’t think you’d remember.” Or care.
“Of course I remember. I haven’t made it since you moved out. How is life at college? I’m so relieved that nastiness is over. You are fully recovered?” His mother spoke fast, as though she could stop the silence from coming back.
That he was only here to spy on his father—no, fix things so that he could spy later—wasn’t fair to her. He needed to be here for her. He didn’t give a damn about his father. Angus didn’t get the chance to answer the questions because his father butted in.
“Of course he’s all right. Why wouldn’t he be? The best doctors checked him over.” His father picked up his fork.
Angus looked at the man he barely knew. That bullshit wasn’t going by unchallenged. If he was here, having to sit through dinner, he would get something out of it. “I don’t remember anything.” Certainly no doctors. “Can’t have been that bad.”
“Demons like to drug warlocks so they are less trouble. That’s why you don’t remember.”
Angus started eating, forcing down each mouthful without tasting it. He should be enjoying it. His mother was a great cook, and he loved the way she put cheese in her chicken pie.
His father had just lied to his face. And in front of his mother. His mother, like the rest of the general nonmagical population, was buying into those lies. Why wouldn’t she believe her husband? She loved him and trusted him. His father was part of the college and all that stood between demons breaking through and killing humans for their own corrupt desires. People feared the demons. They should be worried about the warlocks.
And people like his father who perpetuated the lies.
The lies were so thick and pervasive. There was no room to question until, like a blanket, they were torn away. For Angus it had happened slowly over his time with Jim. Saka had removed the last bits.
Now Angus could barely breathe for all the misinformation that was everywhere.
“What about you, Dad? How is it going at the top?”
His father paused, eyes narrowed, as if concerned about this sudden interest, but Angus had made sure that there was snark in his tone. Too much? Was his father about to tell him off for being rude?
His father rearranged his face into something close to a smile and acted as though nothing was wrong. “I seem to be spending half my time trying to stop the demons who break through.”
“That must be tough.” Given they couldn’t break through on their own. “Are they killed or returned?”
“Killed. Be a waste of magic to return them.” His father looked up from his plate. “You getting interested in law enforcement?”
“A friend at college is.” That was a lie. He didn’t have any friends. Being taken had lowered his standing, being good at the practical side of magic had dropped it further as now he was too smart.
“There are many branches. From working with the cops on crime to policing our own.” His father stared at him. If he’d stared any harder, he’d have been scanning Angus’s brain for illegal thoughts.
Angus held his gaze and nodded, but wondered if that was meant as a warning to him.
“So tell me about your demon,” his father said as though the conversation was going smoothly. “I hear you have him under control now.”
“Just your average black-horn demon. I don’t remember what went wrong the first time.”
“Inattention most likely. Demons are tricky and dangerous.” His father pointed the fork at him. “Glad you learned your lesson.”
“What about you? Do you still have that black, scary-looking thing… what is it? Nightshade?”
“No. Now that was a dangerous demon. Not too many of them around fortunately. Got a dragon now.”
A dragon. Was it also a mage? He wanted to ask what had happened to the Nightshade, but didn’t because he could guess. His father had either drained it of magic and it had died, or he’d killed it in a ritual for its magic. Either way it was bad. The unwritten rules were there for a reason. If humans were breaking them, then the demons would. Then the accord that had existed across the void would be gone.
As fat snowflakes hit the window two months earlier than when Angus had been a kid, he realized that the unwritten rules should probably be written, or etched in stone next time, as they were already being ignored on both sides of the void.
Chapter Twenty
From the top of Lifeblood, Saka could see for several days of travel. Not as far as to the ocean, though; that was much farther. He remembered standing up there the very first time. He’d finished his training and passed the test. Dawn had risen after his initiation and promises to serve his tribe—meaning the greater tribe of all demons.
Back then he hadn’t imagined ever having a warlock.
He hadn’t imagined being the head mage of a tribe.
He hadn’t imagined that he’d ever stand here and not be able to see rivers or oases shimmering on the sand. He turned so he could see the one Angus’s blood had created. There was another tribe there at the moment. He smiled. They would see his mark and be impressed with the new trees and the way the oasis hadn’t dried up fast. It would need to be maintained.
All water
needed to be maintained carefully. Not a drop taken for granted.
There were tribes still trickling in. Some would be late, and some would leave early. There would be much talk about where the water was, and where they were heading. It would not do for too many tribes to cluster together, that would put pressure on an already fragile world. Even before the drought, they had always moved, taking advantage of the herd migration.
There were fewer herds of animals now because there was less water. The mages would need to look at that issue, as well as trying to stop the warlocks from making the problem worse. Beneath the red sands were the riverwyrms. They could hear their prey as they moved through the sunken rivers. By the time a riverwyrm broke the surface, it was too late for the creature being hunted. Were there still riverwyrms? No one had mentioned a sighting in quite a while. No one would risk being complacent either.
Yet that was exactly what had happened. Somehow all the mages had failed the tribe. They had let magic be siphoned across for too long. They should all be doing some searching and asking what went wrong.
His lips twisted as he realized that there were some similarities between warlocks and demons—change was hard.
He lifted his gaze to the sky as a couple of winged mages landed on Lifeblood. This was the first official meeting. He had gone up early to think. There had been a couple of others, but they had simply nodded and continued with their silent contemplation. Those mages who couldn’t fly made their way up the mountain on foot. The climb had also given him thinking time.
More thinking time about things he didn’t want to think about.
The keeping of human slaves still sat wrong in his heart. But going against the council of mages on this issue would not help him. He needed them willing to listen to his wilder ideas. A murmur swept through the gathering mages.
The humans had arrived.
They had been carried up the mountain, given cushions and meals and treated as honored guests for their time here. He had avoided speaking to them at the foot of the mountain out of guilt, but he needed to offer his thanks since he would be holding one of the knives.
He turned away from the expansive view that made him feel like a grain of sand and returned to the reality of the first sitting of mages at the gathering. The two humans were there to shed blood and souls. They were positioned in the middle of the plateau in preparation. Mages walked around them, starting to form a loose circle. All nodded or bowed, few stopped to talk. There was an awkwardness about this. Even the mages known for their blood and soul magic didn’t seem entirely comfortable with having humans up there.
Humans hadn’t been sacrificed on Lifeblood in Saka’s lifetime.
Guda had said these two were volunteers sent by the underground, not offerings sent across by guilty warlocks, hoping that someone else would pay for their magic. Had there ever been human volunteers before?
Saka went down on one knee in front of the humans. Up close it was clear they were not well. What had his old warlock called it? Cancer. It rotted a person from the inside. It could be cured with magic. They could be healed here. The humans probably didn’t know that, and they hadn’t been told. So they were going to die instead.
“Thank you for your sacrifice.” There was nothing else he could say.
“I’m glad to stop fighting,” the man said. “I have enjoyed several pain-free days, seeing a world that I could never have imagined.”
“Yes. My death will have meaning,” the woman said, and then her face crumpled. “That doesn’t mean I am not afraid.”
Saka looked at her. “Fear of the unknown is normal. We believe that the spirit goes back to the land to give life to the next generation.” Her soul and blood would lift rivers and give his world a reprieve.
“That is a nice thought.” She didn’t sound convinced.
Was she having second thoughts? No doubt it had been explained, but being in a strange land surrounded by demons had to be unsettling, along with knowing the manner of her death. He glanced at his hands.
“I will be one of the mages performing the ritual.” He was trying to lighten his own burden and reassure them both. He had never been involved in a sacrifice on Lifeblood with all the other mages watching, not even the more common killing of animals. He didn’t like death, unlike some, but Guda had asked and he couldn’t refuse the honor or the political maneuver. “You will bring life back.”
The woman nodded. “It won’t be enough, though.”
“I wish it was, but I won’t lie.” He was aware of other mages watching. He needed to get ready. He bowed his head and then stood. Even if the humans changed their minds, it was too late.
Guda was already at the bloodstone. A sacrifice of an animal from across the void marked the start of the first meeting. Was Guda old enough to remember human sacrifice? The stone was stained dark, and the hole in the middle went deep into the mountain. The blood from the sacrifice feeding the Lifeblood spring.
He looked at his old teacher. It had been she who suggested that he volunteer to get a warlock the first time. “Change would be needed on both sides” had been her words. She had been one of the first to choose a warlock, putting her life on the line for what she believed.
Now they were about to bloody their hands and prove the tales that humans told about demons being blood-hungry savages.
He lowered his head in acknowledgment of her presence. He was no longer her official apprentice, but she would always be his teacher. She had guided his whole journey. But he had chosen to walk those paths, enjoying the danger and the chance to cross the void.
“I will support your idea when you speak,” she said as though their conversation from yesterday had never paused.
“Thank you. I hope others will listen.”
“Blood will calm the anger.”
“I hope you are right. It could wet more than the sand.” They might desire the easy way of more blood. The humans would retaliate, and demons with a warlock were vulnerable. Warlocks could take whole tribes and slaughter them for their magic.
Demons had to be smarter. That wasn’t usually hard. Humans were easily distracted by shiny metal or power.
“I think most people are here. Those who are late will have to wait beyond the circle.”
Saka glanced at the setting sun. The timing had to be perfect. “Will you lead the walk?”
“No. You do it.”
“These are your sacrifices.” While other tribes had brought animals from across the void, Guda’s humans were far more prized, thus the privilege of opening the first meeting.
“But you need the honor. I would not take that from you.” Her mouth opened. “I am old. You are my legacy. I want to make sure you don’t make a mess of it.”
“You will be coming to many more gatherings.”
“No, the magic no longer flows through me the way it once did. My river is sinking.”
There was no time to process that thought as the mages were already assembling to make the walk and create the circle. They would follow the lead mage until the circle was closed. With their collective wills feeding the circle, the sacrifice would be made. Then the circle would be dropped and the meeting would start. Here every mage was supposed to be equal, but they all knew who was more powerful, and who was in favor.
Saka started walking, each step leading him away until he reached the halfway mark, then he was drawing closer to the end of the line and closing the circle. The humans sat on the stone in the center watching; they gasped as the circle came in to being. A brilliant blue that crackled with the energy of over fifty mages.
It was awe inducing. People at the bottom of Lifeblood Mountain would be able to see it shooting up into the sky. He’d wanted to be a mage from the first time he saw it. He wanted to know what went on up there.
Tonight he didn’t feel the awe, or the swell of accomplishment. He felt the failure of every mage that had brought them to this moment when they had to sacrifice two humans to rebalance what was being stolen.
His failure at treading too gently for too long. No more.
He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. The thrum of magic swelled within him. This wasn’t his first sacrifice. His very first one, at his initiation, had been full of self-importance, that it was somehow his right to take another life. He hadn’t even known what the humans had called that type of animal back then. He’d learned later it had been a sheep.
Saka stopped in front of the bloodstone.
His blood was like the ice taking over the other side of the veil. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. He was sure that if he lifted his hand, it would shake. He reached to the power around him and the ebb of the water in the mountain.
This was about the humans’ lives making a difference. This was about them.
He breathed deeply, then turned to face the gathered mages.
“The first meeting of this gathering has been honored by the presence of these two humans. They have offered their blood, their souls to Lifeblood. To Demonside. To us.” Saka turned and bowed to the humans. His words had been specific because he wanted the mages to know that these people had chosen to die for Demonside.
They were starting to look happy, as though they were enjoying the experience. Guda was lulling them. Had she made them forget what was going to happen? The humans were relaxed, expressions dazed as though on the edge of bliss. It was better to die with a smile than a scream—not all mages agreed with him—but having someone enjoy their death was a little odd.
There was a murmur behind him from the other mages. No one would dare say anything, except to express gratitude. Privately they would wonder why Saka had been given the honor, and they would ask why, and how, Guda had found willing humans. All of which would leave an opening to deepen relations across the void—look what can be achieved if we work with the humans.
Gently he laid the woman down. Guda did the same for the man, and then Guda unsheathed her claws. Saka drew a knife. The opening sacrifice was always fast and always about the blood. The elaborate rituals and orgies would come later.