The Demon: Brayan's Gold Part 3

Finally, the baronas daughter met his eyes. aI apologize, Messenger, but the letter you brought from the count may as well have been.a Her tone was the resigned one of someone whose tears are long dried.

aMy legs still ache from the climb,a Arlen said, gesturing to the table. aWill you sit with me a little longer?a Stasy nodded and allowed Arlen to pull her chair. aAs you wish.a Taking his own seat across from her, Arlen leaned over the table, his voice low. aThey say if you whisper a secret to a Messenger, itas safer than a Tenderas ear. No man, nor all the demons of the Core, can pull it unwilling from his lips, save the one itas meant for.a aThis from the man who spread court gossip to my parents for the last hour.a Stasy noted.

Arlen smiled. aOnce those rumors reach the main hall of the Messengersa Guild, they are no longer secret, but I will tell you something that is.a Stasy raised an eyebrow. aOh?a aDerek still thinks there ent no woman finer than Stasy Talor, and prays you havenat bled,a Arlen said. aSaid I could tell you so.a Stasy gasped and put a hand to her chest. Her pale cheeks turned bright red and she looked around guiltily, but there was no one to see. She met his eyes fully now.

aClearly I havenat,a she said, absently touching the loose lacing about her belly. aBut it makes no difference. He is not good enough for me.a aAre those your words, or your fatheras?a Arlen asked.

Stasy shrugged. aWhat does it matter? My father might have taken the aia from his name when mother died and he married Count Brayanas Royal cousin, but amongst the other n.o.bles, he still feels like a Merchant, because his access to Royal circles is only as strong as his marriage vows. He wants better for me, and that means bearing children to a proper Royal husband and attending the Mothers School.a Arlen resisted the urge to spit on the floor. His father had tried to force him into an arranged marriage when he was eleven, and he remembered how it felt.

aEnt got anyone calling themselves Royal where I come from,a he said. aReckon weare better for it.a aHonest word,a Stasy agreed sadly.

aHow will your father arrange that, once your state is known?a Arlen asked.

Stasy laughed mirthlessly. aLikely he wonat be able to, which is why that acaravana heas sending will ship me off to Count Brayanas Court to have my babe in secret amongst the Servants, at which point Countess Mother Cera will present me at court as having just arrived in the city and broker me a apropera marriage. Derek will never even know heas a father.a aYouall have to pa.s.s the waystation,a Arlen said.

aWonat matter,a Stasy said. aA new keeper will be sent with us to relieve him, and heall be on his way back up the mountain before he even knows Iam locked in the coach.a She looked around to make sure they were not being watched, then reached out and gripped Arlenas hand. He saw pa.s.sion in her eyes, and a thirst for adventure. aBut if Derek knew what was coming and had supplies hidden, he could sneak down the mountain instead of up. Even if father sent someone after us the moment Derek went missing, wead have a weekas lead. More than enough to find each other, sell my jewelry, and disappear into the city. We could get married no matter what his station and raise our child together.a Stasy looked at him, her eyes burning. aIf youall tell him this, Messenger, with no word to any other or mark in your log, I will pay whatever you ask.a Arlen looked at her, feeling as protective as an elder brother. He would take her message for nothing, but he could not deny there was something he wanted. Something the baronas daughter might be able to arrange.

aI need a thunderstick,a he said quietly.

Stasy snorted. aIs that all? Iall have half a dozen of them packed with your supplies.a Arlen gaped, shocked at how easy it had been, but it quickly melted into a smile.

aWhat do you need the stick for?a Stasy asked.

aGonna kill a rock demon thatas been following me,a Arlen said.

Stasy tilted her head, studying him in that way people had, as if trying to determine if he were joking or simply mad. At last she gave a slight shrug and met his eyes. aJust promise youall deliver my message first.a Arlen took an extra couple of days to catch his breath while the Goldmen finished preparing their messages for his return trip. He still tired easily in the thin mountain air, but the effects bothered him less each day. He spent the time wisely, watching the miners put the new thundersticks to use. Everyone wanted the favor of the new Messenger, so they were quick to answer his questions.

After watching as they reduced a solid rock face into tons of rubble in an ear-splitting instant, Arlen knew the destructive power of the thunderstick had not been exaggerated. If anything in the world could penetrate One Armas thick carapace, it was this.

At last all was in order, and on the third day he put his heavy armor back on and headed to the stables. His saddlebags were already packed with supplies, and in them, Arlen found a small box of thundersticks packed in straw, along with a sealed envelope addressed to Derek in flowing script.

As the Baron had promised, it was far easier going down the trail than coming up. He made it to the first wardpost early in the day and pressed on, making the station well before dusk. Derek came out to meet him.

aIave a special letter for you,a Arlen said, handing him the envelope. The keeperas eyes lit up at the sight, and he held the unopened letter up to the sun.

aCreator,a he prayed, aplease let it be that she ent bled.a He tore the letter open excitedly, but as he read his smile faded and his face slowly drained of color, becoming as white as the snow around him. He looked up at Arlen in horror.

aNight,a he said. aSheas out of her coresp.a.w.ned mind. Does she honestly think Iam going to run off to Miln?a aWhy wouldnat you?a Arlen asked. aYou just prayed to the Creator for this very thing.a aSure, when I thought it would make me the Baronas son-in-law, not when it means a week and more alone with the corelings.a aWhat of it?a Arlen asked. aThereare campsites the whole way, and youare a fine Warder.a aYou know what the worst thing about being a keeper is, Messenger?a Derek asked.

aLoneliness?a Derek shook his head. aItas that one night it takes to get home. Sure, you can tumble downhill to the station in a day, but going back up, you always have to stop at that coresp.a.w.ned wardpost.a He shuddered. aWatching the corelings stalk with nothing between you but magic. Donat know how you Messengers do it. I always come home with p.i.s.s frozen to my breeches. I ent ever even done it alone. My da and brothers always come out when Iam relieved, so the four of us can take turns at watch.a aFolk make the trip all the time,a Arlen said.

aAnd every year, at least half a dozen of them are cored on the way,a Derek said. aSometimes more.a aCareless people,a Arlen said.

aOr just unlucky,a Derek said. aEnt no girl worth that. I like Stasy well enough, and sheas a ripping good rut if you get her alone, but she ent the only girl in Brayanas Gold.a Arlen scowled. Derekas calm obstinance, producing excuse after excuse for his cowardice, reminded him of his father. Jeph Bales, too, had turned his back on wife and child when it meant spending a night out of walls, and it had cost Arlenas mother her life.

aYou go back to Brayanas Gold without Stasy and your child, you ent half a man,a he said, and spit on the ground.

Derek growled and balled a fist. aWhatas it to you anyway, Messenger? What do you care if I run off with the Baronas daughter or not?a aI care because that girl and the babe sheas carrying deserve better than a ripping coward,a Arlen said, and then there was a flash behind his eyes as Derek punched him. He rolled with the blow, coming around to drive his steel-plated elbow hard into the keeperas kidney. Derek howled and doubled over, and Arlenas next swing took him full in the face, laying him out flat in the snow. Feelings long buried came roaring to the surface, and Arlen had to check himself against a desire to continue the beating. He got back on his horse. aDonat think Iall be staying,a he told Derek as the keeper rolled up onto his elbow, shaking his head to clear it. aRather spend a night alone with the corelings than behind warded walls with a man whoall turn his back on his own child.a The trail climbed a ridge and then dropped steeply, leaving Brayanas Gold and the Waystation on the far side of the mountain. Arlenas bruised cheek throbbed dully in the cold, and his mood grew blacker as he went. It was not the first time he had underestimated a man and felt betrayed, nor would it likely be the last, but always it was for the same reason. Fear. Fear of the corelings. Fear of the night. Fear of death.

Fearas a good thing, his father used to say. It keeps us alive.

But as with so many things, his father had been wrong. Jeph Bales had taken his fear and embraced it so fully he was convinced it was wisdom. Allowing himself to be ruled by fear might have extended Jephas years, but under its heavy yoke, Arlen doubted his father had ever truly lived.

I will respect the corelings, Arlen thought, but I will never stop fighting them.

An hour before sunset, he stopped and made camp, laying out his circles and hobbling Dawn Runner, making sure she was well blanketed. He glanced at the crate of thundersticks, and decided he could wait no longer. Not far back he had crossed a narrow pa.s.s that was perfect for his purposes. He took two spears, two thundersticks, and his shield, hiking back uphill. He soon found the pa.s.s, overlooked by an escarpment much like the spot Sandar had chosen to waylay him and Curk.

He headed up the trail a bit further, scattering small lacquered plates etched with light wards in the snow along the path One Arm was soon to come bounding down. He returned to the pa.s.s and climbed the escarpment, looking out eagerly over the trail as he waited for dusk.

Twilight came quickly, and the stench of the demons rose with their foul mist, seeping from the ground to pollute the surface. The demons were spa.r.s.e here, but not three feet from Arlen, a rock demon began to form on the escarpment, a squat beast, with armor the same color as the stone.

Arlen knew the demon would not notice him until it was fully formed, but he did not run or prepare a circle. Instead he crouched, waiting for the demon to solidify. When it was fully opaque he rushed in, shield leading. There was a full elemental circle of protection etched around the shieldas edge, and magic flared as Arlen reached the coreling, stopping him short and hurling the rock demon off the outcropping, clear over the side of the cliff face.

Arlen smiled as the demonas roar receded to a distant crashing. There was a crack, and a shelf of snow far below broke free, burying the coreling where it landed. He doubted a fall could ever do lasting harm to a rock demon, but he took pleasure in its rage all the same.

It was a clear night, and twilight gave way to moon and stars that cast a dim glow on the snow. Even so, he heard the distant rumble of One Armas approach long before he caught sight of the giant rock demon.

He waited, match held in his shield hand and thunderstick in the other. His spears were stuck point-down in the snow, in easy reach. When the ward plates on the trail flared, filling the pa.s.s with light, Arlen struck his thumbnail against the match tip, lighting it with a pop. He touched the fuse of the thunderstick to the fire where it caught with a crackle. Immediately, he drew back his arm and threw, raising his shield and peeking over its edge.

One Arm stopped its charge, looking at the projectile curiously, but then its good arm whipped across, faster than Arlen would have imagined possible, to bat the stick away. It flew up out of sight before exploding with a force that shook the whole mountainside and knocked Arlen to one knee, his ears ringing. The bang echoed in the distance. One Arm was distracted for a moment, but seemed otherwise unaffected.

aCoresp.a.w.n it,a Arlen muttered as the giant demon turned its attention back toward him. He was thankful he had brought a spare.

Pulling out the second thunderstick, Arlen fumbled for a match as One Arm charged. He managed to light and throw the second stick, but again One Arm was quick, stopping short and this time catching the stick, pulling it in for a closer look.

Arlen ducked behind his shield as the thunderstick went off right in the demonas face. The night lit up with a roar, and the shockwave of heat and force bowled him over, nearly knocking Arlen from the escarpment. He fell flat and held on for dear life.

A moment later he laughed out loud and looked up, expecting to see half the demonas head blown off, but One Arm stood there unharmed.

aNo!a Arlen screamed, as the demon roared and resumed its charge. aNo! No! No!a He took up one of his spears, drawing back and throwing hard. The missile struck the demon full in the chest, splintering on impact and doing no harm.

aWhat does it take to kill you?a Arlen cried, but the demon took no heed. Knowing the fight was lost, he cursed and dropped his shield to the ground, standing at the center of its small circle of protection.

But the ground shook from the demonas charge, a sound like constant thunder in the air, and Arlenas knees buckled. He stumbled from his perch atop the convex shield, and knew he could not trust its protection through the night.

Quickly, he picked his shield back up, taking a spear in his other hand. His armor might protect him long enough to retreat back to Dawn Runneras circle, but it was a long way to run through the snow at night, especially with seventy pounds of steel on his back. The roaring filled his ears, and it seemed the whole mountain shook.

One Arm reached the outcropping, leaping up to catch its lip. The great talons of its good arm dug into the stone as it pulled itself up. Arlen stabbed at the hand uselessly as the roaring sound grew deafening, and suddenly he realized it wasnat One Arm causing it. He looked up and saw nothing but whiteness, rushing at him like water.

Barely thinking, Arlen leapt from the far side of the escarpment, half-sliding and half-tumbling down to the trail. Ignoring the sharp spikes of pain from the fall, he immediately fetched up against the mountainside and raised his shield.

Shaken loose by the thundersticks, the avalanche struck One Arm full on, knocking the giant demon over the cliff in much the same manner as Arlen had its smaller cousin. He saw the demon fall an instant before being buried himself.

There was surprising weight to the snow, and Arlenas arm threatened to buckle, but he succeeded in creating a pocket of shelter, and when the rumbling ceased, he was able to quickly dig himself out as the majority of the snow continued on down the mountainside.

He went over to the edge of the cliff, but there was no sign of One Arm in the darkness, nor sound of its cries. Arlen laughed again and pumped a fist into the air. Perhaps he had not been able to kill the demon, but he had faced it again and lived to tell the tale, and it might be days before One Arm found his trail again.

A low growl sounded off to the side, and the grin died on Arlenas face. The avalanche must have brought a demon down from higher up the mountain. His hand tightened on his spear, and he turned slowly, shield up.

The moon and stars were bright and reflected off the snow, casting a gray gloom through the darkness. At first he didnat see it, but as the coreling drew closer, the wards on his armor and shield began to draw upon its magic, glowing softly. There was movement in the wardlight, and finally Arlen caught sight of it, a demon with pure white scales that glittered like snowflakes. It looked much like a flame demon, no bigger than a mid-sized dog and crouched on all fours, with a long snout and horns that ran back flat over pointed ears and a long, corded neck.

On impulse, Arlen spat upon the demon, and was amazed to find the rumor was true. As his spittle struck the pure white scales, it froze and burst with a crack.

The snow demonas eyes narrowed, and its snout split wide in what might have been a smile. It made a horrid sound in its throat, and spat back at him.

Arlen managed to get his shield up in time, catching the spray. The surface turned white with rime, and his shield arm grew numb from the cold.

The demon leapt at him then, and his shield, made brittle by the corelingas coldspit, shattered on impact. Arlen was knocked onto his back in the snow, but managed to get a leg between the demon and himself, kicking it away. The snow demon was knocked to the cliffas edge, but dug in its front claws and held fast, back talons scrabbling for purchase. In a moment it would be back at him.

Arlen shook off the remains of his shield and charged the demon, spear leading. He meant to send it tumbling down to wherever One Arm had landed, but the coreling recovered faster than he antic.i.p.ated. It tamped down and sprang to meet his charge.

Arlen spun his spear into a horizontal defense, but the coreling caught the shaft in its teeth and bit through the thick wood like it was a celery stalk. Arlen took the two halves and swung them like clubs to box the demonas ears, knocking it aside.

Before the demon could recover, he turned and ran. It was one thing to press an advantage when a demon was hanging by its claws, but another to fight one head on. There were no snow wards on his armor, and he had no defense against its coldspit.

The wards on his armor continued to glow softly, helping light his way, but also serving as a beacon to the snow demon and any other corelings that might be in the area. He stumbled through the snow, using the downward slope to add reckless speed to his flight.

But in the end, it was not enough. His legs sank into the loose snow, but the snow demon ran across its surface like a bug skating on water. He felt it hit his back, knocking the wind from him and bearing him to the ground.

Arlen rolled with the impact, shaking the demon off before it could find a seam in his armor, but he had barely rolled onto his back before it was upon him again. He put up his armored forearm to hold it back, and the demon caught the thick steel plate in its teeth and began to squeeze.

Metal squealed and bent, and though his arm was still numbed by the coldspit, Arlen howled in agony. The demonas talons raked at him, tearing easily through the steel mesh at his joints, and piercing the larger plates like blacksmith shears.

Arlen felt the cold claws pierce his flesh, like being stabbed with icicles, and screamed into the night. The demon thrashed its head from side to side, teeth still clamped, threatening to tear his arm clear out of the socket. Blood spattered his face from the injured limb.

But in that instant, sure of his own death, Arlen caught sight of the demonas bare belly, smooth like new snow, and saw a chance. With the fingers of his free hand he caught a swab of his own blood and reached out, drawing a crude heat ward on the snow demonas stomach.

Immediately, the ward flared, brighter and more powerful than any he had seen at the station. Those wards were powered by feedback alone, but this ward drew on the corelingas dark magic directly. Arlen felt his face burn from its power.

The demon shrieked and let go its grip, and Arlen shoved it away. It landed on its back, and Arlen saw his blood ward blacken the white scales, then burst into a flame that consumed the demon like sunlight. He was left panting in the snow, bloodied and torn, but very much alive as he watched the thrashing snow demon immolated in fire.

He stumbled quickly back to the campsite, breathing a great sigh of relief when he was once again within the safety of his circles. He needed a prybar to get some of the pieces of his armor off, but there was no choice, as the twisted metal cut off his blood flow in more than one place, and cut into his skin in others. He lit the fire he had wisely laid in advance, and spent the rest of the night huddled by it, trying to restore feeling to his arm as he st.i.tched his flesh.

Feeling slowly returned to his numb arm, bringing with it a maddening pain as if he had been burned. But through it all, he was smiling. He hadnat killed the demon he set out to, but he had killed one nonetheless, and that was more than anyone he had ever known could claim. Arlen welcomed the pain, for it meant he was alive when he had no right to be.

Arlen led Dawn Runner down the steep trails the next morning, happy to walk and keep his blood pumping. Late in the day, there came a cry behind him.

aMessenger!a Arlen turned to see Derek running hard after him. He stopped and the keeper soon caught up, stumbling to a stop. Arlen caught him with his good arm and set him to hang on Dawn Runneras saddle, red-faced and panting. His eye was blue and swollen where Arlen had punched him.

aYouare a long way from the station,a Arlen said, when the keeper caught his breath.

aWhole mountain heard those thundersticks in the night, and the slide that followed,a Derek said. aI took my skis and went looking for you.a aWhy?a Arlen asked.

Derek shrugged. aFigured either you were dead, and I should try and send your bones to your mother, or alive, and needing some help. You ent my favorite person, Messenger, but anyone deserves that much.a aThat would have taken you to the site of the avalanche, six hours back,a Arlen said, awhere you would have seen my tracks, and known I was all right. Why keep on?a Derek looked at his feet. aI knew you were right yesterday, about me not standing by my own. I think thatas what got me so mad. Then when I saw what was left of the demon you killed, it was like a kick in the stones. Dunno what came over me, I just kept on going while my nerve held. Figure the caravan will think Iam dead, but theyall still have to get Stasy out of Brayanas Gold before her belly swells. Iall go to Miln and wait for her.a Arlen smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

Cob was berating one of the apprentices when Arlen returned to the shop. Arlenas master was always snappish when he was worried. He looked up at the door chime and saw Arlen standing there, Derek in tow. The irritation left his face, and the apprentice wisely used the distraction to vanish into the back room.

aYou made it back,a Cob grunted, heading to sit at his workbench without pausing for so much as a handshake.

Arlen nodded. aThis is Derek, out of Brayanas Gold. Heas got a steady warding hand, and could use some work.a aYouare hired,a Cob said, picking up his etching tool. He pointed his leathery chin at Arlenas left arm, missing its armor and bound in a sling. aWhat happened?a aYou now know someone whoas met a snow demon firsthand,a Arlen said.

Cob shook his head and laughed aloud, bending over his work.

aShouldave known if they were out there, youad find one,a he muttered.

Other books by Peter V. Brett.

The Warded Man.

The Great Bazaar.

The Desert Spear.