“Those were my father’s words. Not mine,” he said.
Willum! Coal snapped. Don’t tell people every thing you hear.
“Don’t try to shift the blame to your father,” she said, this time shooting him a glare despite the people watching.
“Shouldn’t we be discussing how we’re going to convince the council?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.
Then don’t bring such things up! Coal sent.
“Fine, but I’m not forgetting this discussion,” she said. They entered the door that led down to the temporary Reneul Mayor’s office and she stopped briefly when she saw no one was in the stairwell. “It is getting late, but I suppose we’ll need to gather together the council members we know we can trust and have a plan ready for the council meeting first thing in the morning.”
“Do you know what you’re going to say?” he asked.
“The prophet said it’s time for boldness, so let’s be bold,” she replied and headed down the stairs.
Willum sat on his cot, the soft glow of the light orb illuminating the notebook in his hands. The council members had left and the plans were set for the morrow. Darlan had gone to bed and now there was only this one task left.
What do you think, father? he asked.
I think you have the right of it. I don’t see what else the creature could be, Coal said, his voice sounding closer than ever. It reminded Willum of evenings as a child, his father sitting next to him with his arm around his shoulder, talking about their day before tucking him into bed. As always, Coal tempered his advice. But it is hard to tell for sure. I understand why you feel you need to do this. Just please use caution.
Of course, father, Willum said.
Good night then. I will monitor you and try to help if you have trouble.
That shouldn’t be necessary, but thank you. Good night, Willum said. He flipped through the pages of the book again.
When Darlan had opened the lockbox with Tad’s key, the book had been the only item inside. It read like a journal, but really it was more of an instruction book on how to use the axe. Tad had been meticulous, keeping track of every bit of information he had been able to wring from the creature bound to it.
More importantly, Willum had discovered that the creature monitored Tad’s every move. It would have seen how he died. Willum needed that information. They would be facing Dann Doudy in the morning and they needed to know what they were up against.
He had read Tad’s notes over and over until he was fairly confident he knew what to do. Still, he glanced at some of the key passages again.
. . . The main thing to remember is the rules. Always follow the rules if you wish to avoid punishment. The creature will never break the rules, but it will find ways to work around them. Finding a way to take advantage of the rules is its main source of entertainment I think. Other than that, be clever. The longer you are clever, the longer it stays amused . . .
. . . I have refused to name it, something the creature ridicules me for. Instead I have focused on trying to discover what it was before it was bound to the axe. This both excites and vexes the creature for I still have not figured it out. Twenty years of research have left me without the answer. . .
. . . seen glimpses of white skin and black claws as it hands over the ledger. I have seen red eyes through the cloud from time to time and once I saw a narrow tail with a forked end when I won a challenge and forced it to reveal a part of itself . . .
. . . Reading these words, you might think the creature evil and yet I don’t think it is. I have seen both cruelty and kindness from it over the years. I would label it insane if it weren’t so cunning. Perhaps unhinged is a better word to describe it. It is quick to anger and quick to praise. Sometimes it seems melancholy and sometimes giddy . . .
Willum skipped forward to Tad’s last words in the notebook. He had read them multiple times and they seemed eerily prophetic.
. . . I have come to tire of the creature. I used to see it as a friend of sorts, a nightly challenger I looked forward to battling, but its antics have worn me thin. Now I avoid using the axe so that I won’t have to deal with it. I’m afraid that has made it become tired of me as well. It has become much crueler of late. I believe that it seeks a way to betray me. It yearns for a new master and truthfully it is probably time.
One day soon I shall find a new weapon and then I will need to decide what to do with this old axe of mine. I have not yet decided whether to pass it on or bury it away. The latter option would perhaps be for the best, yet I can’t bear to do it. I think I understand the creature better than ever now and it makes me sad . . .
Finally he sat the book to the side. Willum tapped the orb of light and the room plunged into darkness. He reached down to pick up the axe and the moment his hand touched the grip, the runes glowed red again.
Willum took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then laid back on the cot, holding the axe against his chest. “Alright axe, let’s have a chat,” he said and closed his eyes.
There was a brief unpleasant sensation like he was falling. Then he was no longer laying down, but standing up. He was somewhere high up in the sky, standing in the center of a rain cloud. Or at least that was his first impression.
He came to realize he was actually standing in a chamber of some sort. A chamber with walls, ceiling and floor made up of black and purple mist. The area was lit by sparkling shards of electricity that danced through the ceiling. Despite the look of the place, the air didn’t feel moist. It was dry and very hot. Willum realized that the room wasn’t made of cloud at all, but smoke.
“Are you here?” Willum asked.
A portion of the smoke cloud pulled away from the wall and wafted over to stand in front of him. A pair of red eyes glowed from deep within and Willum readied himself for the battle that would take place. He went over the rules in his mind. Be clever, Tad had said. Be clever.
“Who is it that seeks my power?” Its voice was both thick and raspy, high pitched and low, like two voices speaking together as one. “Hmm, you smell like a warrior, but your thoughts . . . Are you an innkeeper? A stableman, perhaps?”
Willum knew it couldn’t read his thoughts. Tad’s notes said so. It was mocking him. Trying to gauge his reaction. He kept his face from betraying his emotions.
“I wish to see the list of rewards due,” Willum said.
“Due? Ho-ho, and due to whom?” it asked.
“To me,” he said. “I am Willum, son of Coal and Tad the Cunning has bequeathed you to me.”
“I have been bequeathed to you?” The thing yawned from within the smoky haze. “Bequeathed, bequeathed. I hate being bequeathed. I much prefer being won in battle. Ho! Yes a battle to the death with me as the prize. So much more fun that way.”
“Nevertheless, Tad’s account is mine. I wish to see the ledger,” he said.
“The ledger? Ho-ho, did Tad leave you instructions then?” it asked.
“The ledger please,” Willum said and held out his hand. The ledger would be full of Tad’s winnings and losses in the creature’s games.
“Hmph,” it said and a long thin arm reached out of the cloud. Its skin was smooth and white and it had a book grasped in its hand. Its nails were pointed and red.
The book was bound in white leather that matched the color of the creature’s skin. In flowery writing, the lettering on the front cover said, ‘Tad The Cunning, Debts And Powers Owed’, but Tad’s name had been crossed out and ‘Willum, Son Of Coal’ had been scratched in above it, clawed directly into the leather. He opened the book to find that the pages were covered in the same flowery script, the ink a deep red.
Be clever, he reminded himself. Make it interested.
“Nice handwriting,” Willum said, one eyebrow raised. “But I have to say, bound in your skin and written in your blood? That’s going a bit far to impress me.”
“Would you prefer it bound in your skin and written in your blood?” it threatened.
“You can�
�t do that. Not unless I agree to it,” Willum said and flipped through the pages. They were filled with rows of columns. On the left side were the axe’s debts and on the right were Tad’s. On each page so far they were all crossed out. “So a crossed out debt is a debt paid.”
“There are rules regarding questions,” it said.
“You don’t have to answer but if you do answer, you must state the truth,” Willum said. “I didn’t ask a question though. I made a statement.”
The red eyes narrowed. “You are correct. A debt crossed out is a debt paid or a debt bargained away. Either way a debt no more.”
“Thank you,” he said and flipped quickly through the pages. In the beginning of the book, the debts had been evenly skewed both ways. As he moved farther along they had become heavily skewed in Tad’s favor. He sped through to the last pages and saw that in the last year, the results had swung in the axe’s favor. Then he reached the final page and frowned. The last debt that had been crossed out on the axe’s side said ‘protective/mental’ in the creature’s flowery hand.
“You start out with debts,” the creature said with a chuckle.
“One,” Willum said. “I owe you an answer to a question.”
“And do you know the rules?”
“That is a question and here is my answer. I must obey the same rules as you. I must speak the truth at all times and I must always make good on my debts. If I attempt to do otherwise there are consequences,” he said with a smile. “Debt paid.”
“Oh ho! A clever move for the new wielder. This is all a bit annoying, but still, new is fun, or can be fun. Hmm . . . Are you fun, Willy?”
“That’s Willum.”
“I prefer Willy. Or Willyum. Yum-yum-yum, Willy Yum!”
Willum frowned. “Tad did say you would be tedious.”
“Ho-ho! Tedious? And you said bequeathed earlier. Such fancy words for someone so obviously less smart than the late Mister Cunning.” It chuckled. “I’ll give you a point for that. One point for Willy Yum.”
“Oh, good. One point for me.” Willum said, irritated at the thing’s obnoxiousness. “That means I gain a power.”
The thing grunted. “I suppose. What do you want?”
“I shall think on that,” Willum said. “But first I wish to make good on one of your debts to Tad.”
A long white finger tipped with a red nail pointed from the shifting black cloud. “The ledger has been updated, Willy.”
He looked down to see that all debts under Tad had been crossed out and that the name on the top of the next page was his. The debts had been transferred over.
“Good. First I have a question,” Willum said.
“Ho-ho, you wish to use a question?” it said. “Old Tad horded those like they were gold. So cautious with his questions, that Tad.”
“It says here that I have four questions and five, no-, six powers due,” Willum said, noting that the power he had gained earlier had already been noted along with the date and time.
“Do you know the rules about a question debt?”
“You don’t have to answer a question unless you have agreed to it in advance. Otherwise you can answer any other question I ask and consider the debt paid.” Which is why he had been avoiding asking questions so far. He noticed that since he owed it no answers, the creature was asking questions whenever it wanted.
“True, Willy. True.” The thing huffed. “And I have agreed to nothing yet. What is the nature of the questions you wish to ask?”
“I wish to find out how Tad was murdered,” Willum said.
“Oh ho! I see. Willy Yum Yum wants to know how poor Mister Cunning met his end, does he?”
“Yes I do,” he replied.
The smoke swirled as the creature laughed. “I will refuse to answer.”
Willum had thought it might come to that. “Then I have an alternate deal.”
“And what does Willy have to offer me?” it asked.
“A game,” Willum said. “I will guess what you are.”
“What-what?” the thing laughed. “You would guess that? After knowing me these few minutes?”
“I believe I have a good idea,” he replied.
“And how many guesses do you need?” it asked.
“One,” he said.
“Ho-ho! One guess? Yes, I will agree to that. If you make that guess, I will tell you all about Tad’s death.”
“But that’s not all. Since I am about to attempt something Tad the Cunning couldn’t figure out in twenty years, I want more.” Willum found that he was getting used to the way this creature thought. “I have a big battle coming up. A war starts in two days. I want unlimited access to your powers until the fighting is over.”
“Unlimited?” The creature spat. “Oh Willy-Willy those are high stakes. High stakes indeed! Unfortunately, they are impossible. I don’t have unlimited powers to give. You would use up my magic in a day or less. I would give you six hours.”
“Twelve,” Willum said. He knew how the axe charged. “You can feast on the blood of the goblinoids I kill.”
“Goblinoids? Ugh, Willy,” it said with a chuckle. “But done, if you agree to my terms upon your failure.”
“If I fail, all your debts to me will be wiped clean,” Willum said,
“Ho-ho! That is so, and yet there is more,” the creature said. “If you fail I want three days of your life.”
Willum frowned. Tad said nothing about this in his notebook. “And how would you take three days?”
“Ho-ho! Question asked, answer given,” the creature said happily and Willum winced, knowing that one of his answers owed had been stricken from the ledger. “You will spend those three days in here with me while your body sleeps. Three straight days of play. Oh-ho how much fun!”
Willum swallowed. “Agreed on one condition. I get to choose when the days start.”
“Done!” The creature giggled, jumping up and down within its smoky cover. “The pact is made! Now hurry! Hurry and fail, Willy!”
Willum took a deep breath. This was the moment he had prepared for. Be clever, Tad had said. Be impressive. “I will begin with the clues. You have white skin, red nails, red eyes, and a forked tail. You are smart. You love to play games.”
“Yes, I know,” the creature said, sounding bored. “Tad knew this too.”
“You have magic ability inherent within you that draws on air and fire,” Willum said. “Two complimenting magics, but you are stronger in air.”
“Good, yes. Ho, a connection Tad probably knew but never mentioned,” it said, its voice wary.
“My father is a wizard. I learned many things from him. When I was bored, he used to let me read some of his books. In fact, he had one book in particular that I loved as a child,” he said. “It was one of my favorites because it had these beautifully painted pictures. It spoke about the different types of magic and magical creatures. I saw one that looked like you.”
The creature said nothing.
“Once I read Tad’s description I knew right away that you were a demon,” Willum said with a smile and the creature quivered. “I thought back to that book I so loved and I remembered. There are four types of demons, one to combat each type of blood magic.”
He quoted the book from memory. “‘There are the kobolds, tough and hardy, made to fight the dwarves. Their strength is in earth first and water second and they are fairly common. There are the merfolk, full of life, made to fight the elves, but they are few in number. Their strength is water first and earth second. Then there are bandhams, very rare, made to fight the dragons. Their strength is fire first and air second.’ And then there is you, the rarest demon of them all.”
The smoke around the creature fluttered and it began to hiss.
“You are one of the demons made to fight the gnomes,” Willum said with a smile. “You are an imp.”
“Impossible,” it said. “How could you discover this when Tad could not?”
“I had information he didn’t. Tad was the
best tactician in the academy, perhaps in the known lands. But he wasn’t raised by a wizard.”
The imp growled. “You have the victory, Willum, son of Coal.”
Willum opened the ledger to see that the debt had been noted. “Now you will answer my questions.”
“The debt will be paid,” it said.
“Did Dann Doudy kill Tad the cunning?”
“Dann Dann? Yes and no,” said the imp.
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 41