Demon Cycle: Messenger's Legacy Part 3

They were thicker by the Holy House. The yard was lit with lanterns, drawing the demons away from the village proper. Cories circled the edge of the wardwall, occasionally causing a flare of magic as they swiped at it in frustration.

Lone cories kept their distance, but a group could surround him, and they were more aggressive in packs.

But there was bread and ale on the other side of those demons.

You have to be bold, his father said. When I was in Sharaj, the boy who was too timid went hungry.

The Tender laid the Offering on the altar at Seventhday service, a loaf warm from the oven on a covered platter and ale still foaming in a lidded mug. Ancient wards of protection were etched into the pewter, guarding gifts of comfort and nourishment to any who might come to the Holy House in search of succour.

After a day, the bread began to harden and the ale was flat, but that first night a His mouth watered again. The bread crust would be crisp, the meat beneath soft and chewy. The ale would tickle his throat with bubbles. The taste of them was the closest Mudboy ever felt to Heaven.

And so he came to the Holy House once a week, if not to pray. His father would have spat at the disrespect, but he was dead and could no longer scold. Mudboy knew the Creator would not be pleased at his theft of the gifts of succour, but what had Everam ever done for him, save take his family away? Bread and ale were poor compensation, but compared to the cold vegetables and raw meat he usually ate, it was a feast worth risking a few cories for.

Mudboy crouched low, circling the wall until he was out of sight of the window. He waited for a gap in the circling demons, then darted in. The wards chiselled deep into the wall made perfect hand and footholds, and he was over it in seconds, dropping down amidst the markers where the Tender buried the ashes of the dead. The lamplight in the yard cast the names etched into the stones in shadow, but Mudboy needed no light to find his familyas marker.

Miss you, he thought, running his fingers over the notches head made in the stone, one for every winter theyad been gone. There were nine now. The faces of his family were hazy in his mindas eye, but the emptiness of their loss had not lessened.

He kept to the shadows of the markers as he crossed the yard, in case the Tender was secretly watching from another window. In moments he had his back to the Holy House wall, inching his way around to where the wing joined the main structure, forming an L. The low sill of a window on the first floor was perfect to launch himself across to catch the sill of one on the second. As with the outer wall, chiselled wards gave him all the hold he needed to scale the rest of the way to the roof.

The Tender had been trying for years to discover who took the Offering each week. It had become something of a game between them. The Tender had put bells on the doors and windows, but had yet to realize his weekly visitor was using the horn tower at the centre of the peaked roof.

Mudboy paused, looking out over Bogton. The many cottages of the town were dark, but it was a clear night, and in the light of the moon he could see far, all the way to Masen Balesa farm. The old man still owed his family eight sh.e.l.ls for Maybell, and Mudboy took it in milk once a week. It wasnat stealing, really, and was a chance for a glimpse of Tami. She got prettier every year. Boys had already come to court, but that was all for now. He could still watch her sometimes, and dream of what could have been.

With a sigh he slipped through the tower door and padded quietly down the steps. His shoes were mismatched, but they fitted well enough, worn and softened with use. There was not so much as a whisper as he pa.s.sed through the vestry and into the nave.

The lamp at the head of the altar was always burning at night, a guide like those in the yard to those in need of succour. The light struck the altar table and pulpit, casting long, deep shadows for Mudboy to follow to his prize. He kept his eyes on the choir loft where the Tender liked to hide, but there was no sound or sign of movement. The Tender drank ale while he waited, and was usually fast asleep this late.

He lifted the pewter mug first, thumbing open the lid and drinking deeply, letting the bubbles tickle his throat and the alcohol soothe the pain of the nightas encounter. Then he reached for the bread tray.

There was a ringing as he lifted the lid. The Tender had affixed a bell underneath, where it could not be seen.

Mudboyas eyes flicked to the choir loft. Nothing. The shadows were just a few feet away. If he was quick a But then the vestry door slammed open, revealing Tender Heath, a look of triumph on his round red face.

They stood frozen for a moment, the Tenderas eyes widening from victory to shock.

aBriar?a

5.

A Last Run 333 AR Autumn Ragen rapped on the side of his carriage and Robbert, the guard riding outside, leaned down in his saddle. aWhatas the hold up?a Robbert sat high, looking out over the traffic clogging the streets of Miln. He shrugged. aMessenger day. Must be some news from the south causing a fuss.a Ragen hated the carriage. Time was, he would be the one out in the saddle, escorting carriages.

Now Iam the cargo, he mused, looking to the growing belly under his robes. He was fit for fifty-two, but he was nothing like he had once been.

He had prospered beyond his wildest dreams in partnership with Cob, and when the cancer took his friend and mentor, he had taken over the Warderas Guild in a landslide. Worried once about his future on retirement, now he was one of the richest and most powerful Merchants in the city.

At last they made it back to Cobas shop.

Cobas shop. It was legally his now, and Elissa had run it for years, but it was still Cobas shop in his mind, and he had never changed the sign out front stating as much.

Elissa looked up at the ringing of the dooras bell, her face brightening into a smile that washed away his melancholy. A Mother now, she could have done anything with her life after she graduated the Motheras School and had her peerage restored.

After years of ignoring them in favour of her sisters, Elissaas widowed mother, Countess Tresha, had begun paying calls again. She wanted Elissa to follow her into politics, and had been stunned when Elissa refused in favour of running the warding business with Ragen.

Seeing the shop empty, Ragen flipped the sign on the door to aCloseda and went to his wife. He was about to step behind the counter and take her into his arms when there was a pounding at the door. He turned just as it burst open and Derek Gold appeared, looking haggard and out of breath. He still had his armour on, Messenger satchel dusty from the road.

aDerek!a Elissa cried. aWe thought you werenat due back until tomorrow.a aCracked the reins to get here early,a Derek said. aNewsall be all over the city tomorrow. Wanted you to hear it from me first.a Ragen caught the tension in his voice. aWhat news?a aMight want to sit down first,a Derek warned. aAnd if youave been saving any Sweetwell poteen, now might be a good time to crack the seal.a Elissa came out from behind the counter. aStop stalling, Derek. Whatas happened?a aIave news of Arlen,a Derek said.

Word had reached Fort Miln that Arlen Bales was the Warded Man, but Derek knew him from before. The two had met years ago, back when Derek had been a station watchman for Count Brayanas gold mine, and Arlen an apprentice Messenger. Arlen had returned with Derek in tow, and the man had worked in the warding shop for years before joining the Messengeras Guild. Now Derek worked weekly mail between Fort Miln and Riverbridge.

aWhat news?a Ragen demanded. aIs he all right?a Derek shook his head. aHe fought the Demon of the Desert on a mountaintop. They say he pitched them both over a cliff, rather than lose.a Ragen flushed. aThey? Whoas they?a He knew how quickly rumours could start, and could not believe it.

aEnt just hearsay,a Derek said. aCount Thamos wrote the account himself. Saw an official copy.a Ragen immediately looked to Elissa. She thought Arlen as much her child as any she had borne herself. She stood there, silent, numb.

He went to her. aHeall be all right. There must be some mistake. Arlenas strong. Heas smart, he canat aa The words choked off with a sob as the truth hit home. Not even Arlen could leap off a mountain and live to tell the tale.

Arlen was dead. The bravest man head ever met. His apprentice. His ward.

His son.

He shook, eyes blurring, but Elissa was there in an instant, holding him steady, gentling his hair with soothing words. He had thought to be strong for her, but it was the other way around.

aIave got to get home,a Derek said, obviously uncomfortable with the display. aStasy ought to hear the news as well.a He opened his satchel, leaving a tied bundle of letters on the counter. aBrought the mail.a The tears caught up to Elissa that night, after the children were in bed. They had both taken too much wine at dinner, and Elissa cried herself to sleep in Ragenas arms.

Ragenas eyes were dry. Part of him still could not believe he had wept at all. When was the last time head shed a tear? He didnat know he still had it in him.

He was angry now, though at whom or what he did not know. His muscles were bunched as if for a fight, but there was no foe, nothing for him to revenge himself upon. Arlen was gone and there was nothing to be done about it.

He lay awake for hours, tossing and turning, but still sleep would not find him. At last he could stand it no more, and slipped out of bed so as not to disturb Elissa.

The halls of his manse were empty so late at night, dark with the shutters closed tight against the chill mountain air. But Ragen had never feared the dark. He drifted along silently in the blackness, trailing fingers lightly along the wall until he reached his office. He went inside and shut the door, then flipped the switch to turn on the lectric lights.

He went to his desk, opening the drawer where he kept the last of the Sweetwell poteen, priceless now that the corelings had taken Sweetwell.

He struck the seal with his knife, cracking the hard wax, and pulled the stopper. Without bothering with a gla.s.s, he took a pull straight from the jug.

And coughed, spitting out half the mouthful. Night, head forgotten how strong it was!

He took a cup and poured another measure, cutting it with water. It burned on the way down, but left a numbness in its wake. A numbness Ragen hoped would soon spread throughout his body.

He saw Margrit had left the bundle of letters on his desk, and cut the string. A few more cups of poteen and a reading of his investment tallies should be enough to finally put him down for the night.

Ragen sat back in his chair as he thumbed through the letters. Most were the usual business, though a few held more personal correspondence. The seal on one in particular caught his eye. How long since he had thought of Bogton?

He broke the seal, reading: Messenger Ragen, Blessings of the Creator upon you. It is my sincere wish this missive finds you in good health.

Out of consideration for your brave concern and pressing need on the night of tragedy, I inform you that Briar Damaj is alive a" or was as of a few weeks prior to my writing this, when I caught him stealing the Offering from my altar. He fled the scene, and has not returned since.

The boy was covered in filth, and he stank. I believe he has been living like an animal in the bog, hiding in the muck from hunting demons. Iave spent weeks searching for sign of him or his den, but the wetland is vast and treacherous. Last week I stepped in a sinkhole and broke my leg. Forced to abandon my search, I was lucky to make it back alive.

With the Krasian invasion of Rizon and the warnings from the Mistress of the Hollow that further incursion is to come, none of the Boggers will aid in my search for a half-Krasian boy. Half the town is convinced that Relan was a spy sent to mark a path for his desert masters.

Please, Messenger. Briar is alone in the naked night. You and I are all he has left. Any aid you can offer in bringing him safely behind the wards will be returned upon you a hundredfold in Heaven.

In humility, Tender Heath Bogton Holy House Laktonian Ministry Year 333 After the Return Ragen read the letter a second time, and a third, but his eyes kept going back to two short sentences.

Briar Damaj is alive.

Briar is alone in the naked night.

The door opened, and Elissa stood there, wrapped in a dressing gown. aI woke and you werenat in bed.a Ragen looked at her. aI need to go to Lakton.a Elissa blinked, waiting as if unsure if she had heard correctly. When Ragen did not elaborate, she crossed her arms. aWhy?a It was never a good sign. Elissa could be stubborn as a rock demon when her arms crossed. Ragen held out the letter, steeling himself for the fight to come.

aI have to go,a Ragen said softly when she finished reading.

aOf course you do,a Elissa said.

aI know it seems impossible, a boy surviving the naked night,a Ragen said.

aArlen did it,a Elissa said.

aArlen was twice Briaras age, and a fair Warder,a Ragen said. aAnd he would have died, if I hadnat found him.a aSo now you need to go and find this one,a Elissa said. aOld as you are, you think youave time for one last adventure.a aI wonat be in danger,a Ragen said. aEuchor has built waystations all the way to Riverbridge, and Arlen himself warded my spear. Iall take Derek with me. Heall be happy for the excuse to flee Count Brayanas manse.a It was true enough. Derekas wife Stasy had managed to keep her peerage despite marrying a Servant on account of her powerful uncle, but while the count accepted the union a" and even pulled strings to get Derek respectable work and a rise to Merchant cla.s.s a" both Brayan and Derek were happier when the man was far from Miln.

aI know,a Elissa said.

Ragenas eyes narrowed. aWhy arenat you arguing? Telling me to send someone else? Threatening to leave before I get back?a Elissa crossed her arms again. aBecause this time Iam coming with you.a Ragen argued, of course. An endless debate that lasted the two days it took them to prepare for the journey, and right up to the city gates. But the outcome had never really been in doubt. Elissa was resolute, and more, Ragen found he wanted her to come. Wanted her to see the wide world that had kept them apart for so many years. Perhaps then she would understand.

But though he wanted Elissa with him, he wanted her safe. He hired a team of guards to dissuade bandits, armed and armoured with no expense spared. He sent word ahead to Euchoras waystations, reserving rooms and supplies. Derek was all too happy to join them, adding another familiar face to the group.

The first night they took refuge at the inn at Hardenas Grove. The Grove had a low wardwall to hold out land demons, though wind demons could still swoop into its streets at night. The inn was well warded, but there were occasional cracks and flashes of light as demons tested the forbidding.

Elissa jumped with each flare, and Ragen stroked the spear Arlen had warded for him. It would bite coreling flesh, Arlen had promised, and Ragen knew better than to doubt the man. Part of him longed to put it to use, to kill a demon after a lifetime of hiding behind the wards. A greater part, wiser, hoped he would never have need to put the weapon to the test.

He groaned as he climbed back into the saddle the second day, tugging at his armour.

aLinks pinching?a Derek asked.

aMore like my gut squeezing,a Ragen said. aGained a pound or two since I last wore it.a Elissa laughed. aAy, just one or two. Like me when I was pregnant.a aNight, I hope itas not that bad,a Ragen said, pulling back smoothly to avoid Elissaas playful smack.

Derek laughed, patting his own slender belly. aEasy to keep the weight off when you eat road fare most nights.a aAy,a Ragen said, abut you slow down when the years mount, Derek. Fire doesnat burn as hot, but we keep piling the logs.a It was more than three weeksa travel from Miln to Bogton, even by the fastest route. A part of Ragen had been eager for the journey, eager to escape the confines of Miln. But Ragen found he had not missed many aspects of the road. His thighs screamed, for when had he last spent an entire day in the saddle? Even at the waystations, pallets were hard and foods were chosen more for how long they would last rather than the desires of the palate.

They would have good meals and beds in Riverbridge, and Angiers, but then there would be nights on the open road before they reached the Hollow, and even more before they reached Bogton.

That second day he got one of the first sunburns of his life. It was only then he noticed how white his hands had become. Messenger Ragenas hands and face had been tanned a deep brown, immune to the sun.

But by the third day, Ragen found his legs again. They climbed a hill for vantage, and he leaned back in the saddle, stretching as the duchy spread out before them.

aThis, Iave missed,a he said.

Elissa gasped at the sight. aItas beautiful.a Ragen reached out, taking her hand. aItas only the beginning.a aTheyall be rising soon,a Ragen said. aTime to go inside.a aInsidea was a canvas tent the men had raised. They were south of Angiers now, on the road to the Hollow.

aNo,a Elissa said. aWeare no safer in the tent than out here. Iave spent the better part of the last decade learning wardcraft. Itas time I saw a demon.a Ragen could see the tension in her as she paced back and forth, waiting. Her hand were curled fists at her sides. aIt wonat be just one. Wood demons rise in numbers near the road, and it wonat take them long to find us.a Elissa stopped pacing. She took a deep breath, scanning the roadside woods as the sun slipped below the horizon and twilight took the world.

She did not have to wait long. The accursed mist began to seep from the ground, thickening and coalescing like a sculptor slapping clay until a recognizable shape began to form.

It was a wood demon, long-limbed with brown armour, k.n.o.bbed and rough like the bark of a tree. Its talons could be broken sticks on the blunt side, but Ragen knew from experience the other side was sharp and hooked, equally suited for climbing trees and disembowelling prey.

Its snout split open, revealing hundreds of yellow teeth like etching awls, but Elissa met the corelingas eyes, and he swelled with pride. Head known seasoned Messengers who couldnat abide to meet a demonas stare.

But when the demon sprang, covering the distance between them in an instant and slashing its talons at Elissa, she shrieked and Ragenas heart skipped like a novice on his first overnight.

The blow was stopped cold by the wardnet with a boom and flare that spiderwebbed from the point of impact like a bolt of lightning.

Elissa watched as the wardnet rebounded the energy, throwing the demon off its feet. She gave a sniff, then went into the tent. The coreling, infuriated by the dismissal, hurled itself at the net again and again, but to no avail.

It went on for some time. The first demon had drawn others, and soon a dozen of them lurked nearby, testing the net in turns.

Creator only knew how, but Elissa managed to fall asleep. Ragen remembered a time when he had been able to do the same, but the memory had given him nightmares since retirement, and now he lay awake, flinching at every blow.

He drifted off a bit before dawn as the demons quieted, only to be woken a short time later by the sounds of the guards breaking camp. Every bit of him ached as he climbed back into the saddle.

They made it to the Hollow not long after, and had two nights of inns before being back on the road. They asked after Arlen a" the Hollowers happy to gossip about the Deliverer a" but the news was unchanged. Many believed he would return, but none had seen him in the weeks since the battle.

After the sleepless nights on the road, Ragen was tempted to stay an extra day or two, perhaps pay a call on Count Thamos, but the Tenderas words stuck in his mind.

Briar is alone in the naked night.

They pressed on.

They were nearing the fork to Bogton when a Messenger came thundering up the road. His horse was lathered with sweat, and there was a wild look in his eyes.

The man pulled up short at the sight of them, taking a long pull of his waterskin. Ragen didnat know him. Head been too long out of the business.

aIn the name of the Dockmasters, I need a fresh mount,a the man said. aAnd you need to turn around.a His tone set off alarms, but Ragen kept his voice calm. aWhatas happened?a aKrasians,a the man said. aTheyave taken Docktown. Thereas a host of refugees fleeing this way, and no telling if the desert rats are in pursuit.a aCreator,a Ragen said. aHow far?a The Messenger shrugged. aTwo days. Maybe three. If the Sharum are coming this way, believe me when I say you donat want to be here when they arrive.a Ragen nodded, turning to Derek. aGive the man a fresh horse. The rest of you, turn around and head back to the Hollow. Iall meet you there.a aAnd where are you going?a Elissa demanded.

aYou know where Iam going,a Ragen said. aSomeone needs to warn the Boggers.a aYouare not going alone,a Elissa said.

aNo arguments, Elissa,a Ragen snapped. aIam not letting you come.a aTry and stop me.a Elissa yanked the reins, moving her horse out of reach before he could grab them. She was a skilled rider, and there was little hope of catching her if she did not allow it.

aWe donat have time for this,a Ragen said.

aAy, so stop being stubborn and letas go,a Elissa said.

Ragen scowled, but he turned to the guards. aRobbert, Natan, give the Messenger your horses so he can alternate. Meet us in Bogton. The rest of you are with us.a He kicked his horse, and they set off for the town at a gallop.