Bec Page 8

  “You’re no good to me the way you were!” he snaps when I question the need to learn new spells. “I need more!”

  But what for? Why does he need me? What’s he grooming me to do?

  Sleeping deeply. Dreaming of happier days — Banba alive, no demons, safe. Enjoying the dream, but midway through an inner voice whispers, “Wake up.” Connla’s been guarding us for the last few hours. Now it’s my turn to go on watch.

  I’m excellent at waking myself. I never need to be called. It was one of the first spells Banba taught me. A priestess has to be able to control her dreams. Otherwise she can cause chaos while asleep.

  I’m lying on my back, next to Orna, cloak drawn across my body and over my head. I turn slightly, careful not to break Drust’s masking spell. I look across to where Connla is. And see a demon.

  For a second I think I’m still dreaming, because the demon doesn’t appear to be attacking Connla. It’s crouched beside him, bent over, head close to his, as though talking. And when I prick my ears I can hear it whispering.

  A drop of rain hits me square between the eyes. I blink — then snap out of my stupor. Leaping to my feet, I roar at the top of my voice, “Demons!”

  Everyone comes alive in an instant, on their feet, weapons in hands. Ronan notches an arrow to his bow, takes aim, and... stops as the demon turns to look at him. I see Ronan’s fingers quiver, his face twitch, his eyes narrow. He wants to unleash the arrow but he can’t. The demon’s controlling him.

  Lorcan attacks, sword and axe a blur, screaming a challenge. The demon points with a lumpy, pale red hand. And Lorcan stops too, not frozen in place exactly but hovering beyond striking distance of the demon, unable to advance.

  Goll and Orna are about to leap forward when Drust shouts, “No! Leave him!”

  The druid is sitting up. His hands are joined. His lips are moving quickly, gaze fixed on the demon. He looks more purposeful than frightened.

  Nobody moves. All eyes are pinned on the demon and the druid. Now that my sight has adjusted and there’s time to observe, I get a clear view of the monster. It’s tall, with eight arms, roughly shaped hands, dangling strips of flesh instead of legs and feet. Hovering in the air, not touching the ground. Pale red skin, flecked with blood. At first I think it’s Connla’s blood — I’m sure he’s dead — but then I notice scores of cracks in the demon’s skin, from which blood oozes, giving the lumpy flesh its unhealthy crimson tinge. No hair. Its eyes are dark red, with a black circle at the center of each globe. No nose, just two gaping cavities in the middle of its face. No heart either — just a hole in its chest filled with eel-like creatures, which slither over and under one another, hissing and spitting.

  The demon cocks its head and smiles sadly at Drust. “You are powerful, druid. The girl too, if she could only learn what you teach her.”

  Complete shock. I’ve never heard a demon speak like this, in words of our own. It — he — has a deep, sorrowful voice. Not entirely human, but the words are clearly formed. A demon who can speak as a human must also be able to think as a human. Drust’s prediction — and our worst fear — has been confirmed.

  Then the meaning of his words hits home. He knows Drust has been trying to teach me. He knows I’ve been failing. That means he can either read minds or...

  “He’s been following us!” I shriek, taking a step towards the heartless creature.

  “Bec!” Drust hisses. “Don’t get involved!”

  “But —”

  “Such sadness,” the demon murmurs. “So much pain. A quest doomed to fail. This land overrun by demons. Everybody killed. And all your fault, Little One. Your people will die because you failed them. Imagine the humiliation and guilt.”

  I tremble, not wanting to believe him. But he sounds so sure of himself, so certain this is what the future holds. There’s pity in his voice. I get the feeling he wants to comfort me. As I’m thinking this, the demon extends two arms and nods encouragingly. “Come to me,” he whispers. “Seek solace in the embrace of loving Lord Loss.”

  I move closer to him, gripped by his power and the promise of comfort. The demon — Lord Loss — smiles and nods again. This isn’t right. He’s making me do his bidding and nothing good can come of that. But I can’t resist. I’m filled with a sense of grief and only Lord Loss seems able to help.

  Then Drust is by my side, talking quickly. “Use magic. This demon is of the Otherworld, of the stars. He generates power. Take it. Use it. Fight.”

  My body continues forward as though Drust hadn’t spoken. But my mind’s in a whirl. I’ll die if I come within the demon’s reach. He’ll suck all the life from me and toss me aside, or keep me on as a member of the undead. I try using Old magic spells to fight him but I can’t move my lips to utter the words.

  Drust’s warning echoes. The demon is of the stars. He generates power. I recall my recent lessons, the spells Drust tried to teach me, how he encouraged me to draw from the stars, to channel magic from a celestial source.

  With my mind, heart, and spirit, I reach out to Lord Loss. I feel his power, his magic. And I draw from it. I rip it from him sharply, fiercely, filling with it, hair shooting up straight, eyes widening, arms flying out wide.

  The demon gasps and rises a few feet higher off the ground. I float too, supported by magic, drawing my power from the sky instead of the earth, becoming part of the world of the air.

  I turn my hands palms down. Two large stones rise from the ground, ripping free, dripping soil and pebbles, floating upward. They stop short of my hands, which I slide behind the stones. I look from hand to hand, stone to stone. Then at Lord Loss. I smile — and push. The stones zip towards him.

  The demon’s arms shoot out and the stones explode into clouds of dust and tiny brittle shards. Everybody ducks to avoid being pierced. Except me and Lord Loss. We remain motionless, supported by the air and magic, staring at each other.

  Some of the stone splinters strike the demon’s cheeks and open fresh, deep cuts. He doesn’t look angry or surprised. Just sad.

  “Such potential,” the demon sighs. “What a waste. To die so young, when you could achieve so much...”

  “Begone!” Drust roars, getting to his feet, linking his right hand with my left. I fill with even more power than before. I feel like I could reach up and quench the stars themselves. “Go or fight!” Drust shouts.

  “Fight?” the demon chuckles. “I could destroy you both without even nearing my limits.” One hand starts to point at us. Then stops. The demon lowers his arms. “But where would be the sport in that?” he murmurs. And then he turns smoothly and drifts away into the darkness of the night.

  Just when I think he’s gone, there comes a call from the shadows. “You stole from me, Bec. You took magic that was not yours. Pain will come of that. And great sorrow. And death.” A teasing pause, then he adds, “It starts tomorrow.”

  Then he really is gone, leaving behind silence, confusion . . . and terror.

  Connla’s alive. He rises when the demon leaves. Pale and shivering. He says he was asleep until my shout, that he couldn’t move when he woke, held in place by magic. Drust checks to see if the demon has fed from him but can find no marks on the warrior’s flesh.

  I’m not interested in Connla or why Lord Loss was whispering to him in his sleep instead of killing him. I have time only for magic. I’ve never felt this powerful or so alive. The world looks and feels completely different. I can see as if it’s day. The stars are brighter than a full moon, shining through the cover of the clouds, pulsing, multicolored. And they’re connected! I couldn’t see it until tonight but now it’s obvious. The sky’s like a giant system of roots, each star linked. The lines between the stars are veins of magical power. The sky is alive. I can draw magic from it, just as Banba taught me to draw from a tree or a stag.

  I reach out with my mind and suck in power. I want it all, the whole of the sky, every bit of magic it has to offer. I can be a goddess, capable of changing the world with a click of
my fingers. I can...

  “No,” Drust says softly. I look down and see that his hands are on either side of my shoulders but not touching me. His eyes are as dark as the sky is bright. “You must stop.”

  “Why?” I whisper, continuing to draw strength from the stars.

  “You won’t be able to contain so much power. Your body will unravel. You’ll die.”

  “I can hold it together,” I sigh. “With this much magic I can do anything.”

  “No,” he says firmly. “It will destroy you.”

  I don’t want to believe him. I don’t want to stop. But I can see the truth in his expression. He’s not a jealous teacher intent on holding me back — he’s a worried ally trying to save me. Reluctantly I pull back and cut off the seductive flow of power from the stars. The world dims around me. I become human again.

  Drust’s hands close on my shoulders and he squeezes warmly. “You did well,” he says.

  “I did it,” I reply, hardly able to believe it now that the moment has passed. “I made the magic work. Your magic.”

  “Yes.” He doesn’t let go. He looks troubled. “I’ve never seen someone make the leap from novice to adept so swiftly. The demon said you stole magic from him. The power that involved...”

  “I didn’t mean to steal,” I say quietly. “Is it a bad thing?”

  Drust shakes his head and smiles thinly. “No. Just unexpected.” He releases me. “Now, let’s get everybody settled down and restore the masking spells. There may be other demons nearby who might not be so willing to retreat as Lord Loss.”

  “Do you know what he was?” I ask. “Why he could speak? What he meant about death and sorrow coming tomorrow?”

  “We will talk about him shortly,” Drust says. “First the spells. You can help me cast them this time. Listen carefully, then copy what I do.” And he shows me. And I try it. And it works. Easy.

  “Lord Loss is one of the more powerful Demonata,” Drust says. We’re all lying close together. It’s late in the night but nobody can sleep, not after what we’ve so recently witnessed. “He’s a demon master.”

  “You said they couldn’t come through yet,” Fiachna notes.

  Drust nods thoughtfully. “When the first demon master forces its way through the tunnel, it will widen. There will be a flood of demons more powerful than those who roam the land now, eager to get in on the killing while there are humans left to kill. They’ll be savage, unformed, monstrous. We’ll know when they are here — the screams of the dying will fill the air.

  “I don’t think Lord Loss came through the tunnel, or that he crossed anytime recently. He could speak our language. Even the powerful demon masters cannot do that without much practice. I believe he has been here for many years, walking among us.”

  “How?” Orna gasps. “The demons only started coming last year.”

  “No,” Drust says. “Some came before that. There are ways for humans to summon them. They can never stay for long. They usually kill recklessly, then slip back to their own foul realm. But this one seems at home here. . . .” He falls silent, then says, “Much of our knowledge of the Demonata comes from the Old Creatures. They walked the land once. This was their world. They instructed the early druids, told them about demons, taught them how to fight. But they did not teach us all that they knew. Perhaps they couldn’t, since they were gods and we were only humans.

  “As far as I was aware, demons could not roam this world freely unless a tunnel was open. That is what the Old Creatures taught us, and we have seen evidence of that in the many centuries since they withdrew from our company. But I see now that there are exceptions to that rule. Lord Loss must be one of them.”

  “Are you sure he was a demon?” Goll asks. “He looked more like a Fomorii to me, judging by the old legends.”

  “He was definitely a Demonata,” Drust says. “But he is different from most. The majority revel in bloodshed. The masters are like the weaker demons that you’ve seen — crude and wild, interested only in slaughter. Lord Loss appears to be more cultured. Cruel rather than brute. He could have killed us but he didn’t. Instead he spoke of sport and future suffering. He —”

  “The stones!” I blurt out. I’d been thinking about him trailing us by day, moving among us at night, when an image clicked into place. “I saw him at the ring!” When the others look blank, I tell them about the demon I saw when we were trapped within the circle of magical stones. “There was one who didn’t pay attention to Bran when he was running around and dancing. He was by himself, floating in the air, watching the rest of us. It was Lord Loss. He’s been following us since then.”

  “But why?” Orna asks.

  “Sport,” Drust replies, face dark with worry. “I think this demon is as vicious as any of the others, but he feasts on the agony of humans instead of their blood. Sorrow excites him. He must have sensed the promise of pain when he saw you and has been following ever since, waiting for the misery to start.”

  “Then it will be a long wait!” Goll huffs. “I won’t be played by a demon. Now that we know he’s here, we can fight him.”

  “Maybe,” Drust says gloomily, but his eyes are dark and I can see the embers of fear in them.

  Children of The Dark

  WE march at the same pace as before, but anxiously now, aware of the demon’s warning that death would strike today. We’re tense, prone to snap at the slightest irritation. When Connla makes a simple insult about Goll’s blind eye late in the morning, Goll responds by criticizing Connla for falling asleep while on watch. The pair almost come to blows and have to be separated by the rest of us.

  Ronan and Lorcan are the calmest. The brothers have little fear of death. This is just part of the big adventure for them. I think they’re half-hoping we are attacked, so they can kill more demons.

  My lessons continue throughout the day. I was afraid the magic would desert me when the sun rose, that I wouldn’t be able to draw upon the power of the stars. But Drust teaches me to ignore the state of the sky and draw from it regardless of whether it’s day or night.

  “The stars hide but are always there,” he says. “We’re weaker in the day but not as weak as demons. Most of them can’t draw from the stars at all while the sun shines, but we can.”

  Since I made the breakthrough, I’ve come on like a child who’s taken her first step and is now toddling everywhere at high speed. I find it easy to move objects — stones, branches, even Bran. I make him rise while we’re resting, move him a few strides in the air, and set him down without him even noticing. That tires me but it doesn’t exhaust me and I recover quickly.

  Drust says I’m one of the strongest at doing this that he’s ever seen. I ask if there’s a limit to what I can lift and move. He says there are always limits but he has no idea what mine might be. I suggest trying to uproot a tree but he says it’s too soon for so ambitious a test.

  I’m not as accomplished in other areas. I learn how to create fire and hold it in my hands, either as a torch or to use as a weapon. But my flames are pitiful flickerings, nothing like Drust’s solid columns, and they singe my fingers.

  I develop protective spells, like the one we use to mask ourselves at night. But these are more complicated, designed to shield me from physical assault. If they work correctly, a demon won’t be able to harm me with its claws or teeth, only with magic.

  There are spells to protect me from magic too, but they’re even harder to learn. I make a small amount of headway with both sets of spells. Drust is pleased with my progress, but it’s tough work and leaves me feeling drained and grumpy.

  “What about spells of attack?” I ask in the afternoon, thinking of the night ahead, worrying about the dangers we’ll face.

  “Survival is our only concern right now,” Drust says, then looks around. We’re not close to any of the others, except Bran, who walks behind me like a faithful hound. Drust lowers his voice. “You must think only of your own well-being if we’re attacked. Don’t put yourself in danger,
even to save another. I need you, Bec. Your people need you too. Don’t waste your life trying to save someone who isn’t important.”

  “You don’t want me to fight?” I ask archly. “You want me to stand by and let my friends die?”

  “If you have to,” he says.

  “I can’t. I won’t. Not unless you tell me what you want me for.”

  Drust shrugs. “I’m offering you good advice. Ignore it if you wish. Now, let’s work on a different type of spell. This one gives you the appearance of a giant. It will frighten off certain demons.”

  And he says no more about why I’m so important to him or why he wants to keep me alive when he’s happy to stand by and accept the slaughter of everybody else.

  Lessons cease a couple of hours before sunset, to give me and Drust time to recharge and prepare for any battles we might find ourselves involved in. I spend the time until dark wondering what Lord Loss will throw at us. Hordes of demons? An army of the undead? Maybe they’ll burrow at us from beneath the earth or drop on us from the sky. How powerful is the demon master? Drust doesn’t know. There’s no way of telling, not until we’ve studied the heartless beast in action.

  The others are nervous too, even Ronan and Lorcan now that night is almost upon us. They’re not afraid of death but of being taken by surprise and dying in disgrace. Oddly enough, Connla seems the most assured. He was edgy earlier but now walks cockily, urging us on, telling us not to worry. He’s acting like a king, which isn’t unusual, but he’s doing it in the face of danger, which is strange. Maybe he’s finally growing into the leader his father always wanted him to be.

  Half an hour before sunset, Drust halts on top of a hill and says, “Here.”

  Goll looks around. “Are you sure? We can be seen from all directions.”

  “If Lord Loss plans to guide demons to us, he’ll find us no matter where we are,” Drust responds. “At least up here we can see them coming. And the exposure is good for Bec and me. We can draw strength from the stars easier at this height.”

  As the others make camp I ask Drust if that was true or if he was just saying it to give Goll confidence. “It’s true,” he says. “High places with no trees are ideal for magicians who absorb power from the heavens.”

  “But won’t this place favor the demons too?” I ask.

  Drust shrugs. “Best not to think about that.”

  When everyone’s ready, Drust and I cast masking spells. The spells won’t count for much if Lord Loss reveals our position to other demons, but they’ll protect us if strays wander by.

  Time passes. It rains heavily, then eases, though the sky remains clogged with clouds. Nobody speaks. I realize after a few hours how hungry I am. We were so concerned with finding a good spot for the night that we never thought to hunt or pick berries. Oh well, too late now.