THE DEMON FESMAN

THE DEMON FESMAN, by Lynn Rushlau

 

 

Exhilaration buzzed through Reigh’s limbs as she crossed the Convoco’s threshold for the first time. Demon Speakers in every shade of orange thronged through the meeting hall. Dozens already clustered in their seats on the tiers of the flame shaped walls. She beamed at the room. Could life be any more wonderful?

Her smile slipped into awe. Not twenty feet away stood a Dark Hierophant, her black felted shawl barely tinged blue at the edges over a dress so pale an orange it was virtually white. Wracking her brain, she tried to identify who stood before her. Only a dozen Hierophants had risen to that rank in her lifetime. With the short gray hair and light brown skin, this one must be–

“Reigh!”

A trio of her classmates–former and utterly insipid classmates–popped into the space between her and the Hierophant. She suppressed a groan.

“Hello, Vel. Mallin. Bellry.”

“Isn’t this amazing?” Mallin gushed. Her orange sheath was a wrinkled mess, all three of theirs were. Clearly they’d been sitting down. She mentally tsked. The only flaw in her smooth linen shift would be the creases where it tied across her chest, and her felted orange wrap properly covered that.

“Did you see all the protestors outside?” Vel asked.

Reigh clenched her jaw and fought not to roll her eyes. Of course, Vel would bring the cloud of gloom. Had a day gone by in their seven years of schooling that Vel had not found something negative to dwell on? “There are always protestors outside the Convoco.”

“Not this many. This is–”

“Completely normal. It’s like this every year. I’m from Moonroe.” Reigh thrust her shoulders back, standing taller.

There were always people upset their person of choice wasn’t being Raised or that someone they didn’t approve of was. Or  those who wanted Demial to stop Raising demons and adhere to this foreign God or that foreign Goddess instead. Growing up on Demial’s largest island, wanting to be a Demon Speaker, she’d come to watch the public parts of the Convocation of Demons every year, and maybe, the crowd of protestors was bigger this year? But she absolutely refused to allow that or these three to ruin her first glorious day inside the Convoco.

“Well, it was good to see you, but we’re to mingle, no?”

Her classmates traded uneasy looks. Raising her eyebrows, she stalked around them. A few steps away, her shoulders drooped. The Dark Hierophant was gone, a peach-clad adept now stood alone near where she’d been. No one in any wrap darker or shift paler stood in her immediate vicinity.

Though abundant among Speakers, an Adept still ranked much higher than a Novice and would be worth meeting. Who knew where any introduction could lead?

Brightest smile plastered on, she strode over, curtsied before the middle-aged Adept, and introduced herself. The woman returned her smile, though hers looked amused. “Adept Tesselle. Blessings of the Eminent Dead. Is this your first Convocation?”

Reigh frowned. “Is it so obvious?”

Tesselle laughed. “Only a handful of Novices work up the courage to approach ranked Speakers and, after the first year, hardly any bother.”

Reigh raised her eyebrows. Unimaginable. Skipping networking at the Convoco should be career suicide. How else could they bring themselves to the attention of their superiors and win the most prestigious assignments? Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

“Might I ask where you’re stationed?”

“Yill Isle.” Reigh’s jaw fell open. Tesselle laughed and repeated the words that were almost ritual amongst the teachers. “All assignments are an honor. Do you know where you’ll be sent to Serve?”

Reigh was a second late in joining in the laughter, but she forced herself to. She’d been invited to share a joke with a superior. She wouldn’t fail to accept that honor, though Tesselle’s answer left her head spinning.

The teachers and Speakers could proclaim all assignments equal in honor as often as they wanted, but it wasn’t true. The Holy Isle of Yill housed the shrine of the one of greatest demons who deigned to liaise with the people of Demial, bringing prestige to any who Served there.

The adept’s brow furrowed. Oh, yes, she’d asked a question. Heat scored Reigh’s cheeks. “We were told they’d let us know after the Convocation.”

“I do remember as much, but I also recall having a very good idea beforehand where I would go.” She cocked her head to the side. “No thoughts?”

Reigh offered her a small smile. “Nothing I want to jinx.”

Tesselle’s bell-like laughter rang forth again. They made small talk for perhaps two more minutes before another Adept about Tesselle’s age swept her into a hug. Reigh backed away. The two separated, laughing and talking at the same time.

She pivoted to leave them to their reunion. Someday she’d have former coworkers she was that happy to see and doubted she’d want power-hungry Novices intruding.

Tesselle caught her arm. “Good luck.”

Warmth filled her and radiated through her smile. “Thank you.”

Alert for her next opportunity, she bounced through the crowd. Everyone looked to be in the midst of excited conversation. While she had no problem with walking up to one of those groups and introducing herself, she wanted to make a good impression on everyone she met. Doubtful any of those she passed wanted to be interrupted for small talk with a Novice half their age–or even a handful of years younger, she thought as she passed a quartet of animated Junior Speakers.

“Demons,” Mallin breathed as she, Vel, and Bellry descended upon her again. Reigh gritted her teeth. Dammit, she’d not meant to circle back to the entrance. “I can’t believe you spoke to an Adept. Who was she? Where was she from?”

Reigh shook her head, feeling like she was surrounded by small children begging for a story. How could they be her equals and act this immature? “You three should be mingling.”

“We are. With you and each other,” Vel said with a small, clearly scared smile.

Bellry screamed. Appalled, Reigh turned toward her as loud booms shook the Convoco. Screams tore from all corners of the room. Hands clamped down on her arms before she completed her turn. She jerked away, but the bruising grip only strengthened as whoever grabbed her pulled her away from the crowd.

“Struggling will get you killed faster,” a man hissed in her ear, causing her to freeze. A man? In the Convoco?

He pulled her around to face the crowd, and she goggled at the sight before her. A dozen men and women had flooded into the room. Three other intruders held Vel, Mallin, and Bellry. One of the invading women put ink-stained fingers in her mouth and unleashed a whistle that silenced the room.

The man holding Vel dragged her, whimpering, into the space between the intruders and Speakers. Reigh gasped along with the rest of the room as the man placed a knife at Vel’s throat.

He jerked the knife.

Blood sprayed. Everywhere.

Vel crumpled to the floor.

Reigh was too stunned to scream. Most of the room did it for her.

A man strode forward and stood over Vel’s body, blood pooling around his boots. “SILENCE,” he bellowed.

All sound in the room stopped. Another man pulled an ashen Bellry forward, another knife in his hand. Bellry’s bloodless lips moved nonstop in silent prayer.

Reigh’s gaze trailed to the door, expecting but failing to see guards from the square rushing in, halberds swinging and thrusting.

“Someone in authority needs to step forward to speak to us. NOW.”

A Prima in her yellow and blue wrap detached herself from the crowd. “What is it you want?”

The man who’d spoken shook his head. The one holding Bellry slit her throat. Screams and outraged protests erupted all around them.

“We are not fools. Everyone in Moonroe understands the significance of the colors you wear. I asked for someone in authority.”

“You asked for someone to speak to you. I stepped forward.” The Prima’s voice shook.

Eyes squeezed shut, Reigh almost collapsed when the man holding her pulled her forward. Her eyes shot open. Oh, demons, no, they couldn’t. She wasn’t supposed to die, not here, not like this. Today was supposed to be the greatest day of her life thus far, not its last.

Reigh couldn’t move. Cold, sharp iron pressed against her throat. She couldn’t breathe around it. Sharp copper filled her nose, cloying, overpowering. She needed to retch. Needed to flee. She dared not so much as blink. Inside her head she screamed for the Prima to shut up, to not get her killed, for someone else, someone important enough, to step forward and save her.

“Move,” a craggy voice ordered.

In her peripheral vision, Reigh watched a ripple of movement through the crowd. The Dark Hierophant she spotted earlier stepped out of the crowd. She blinked at the woman, wanting to tell her she’d not been begging for someone that important. Was the Speaker insane? Why was she putting her holy self in danger to protect a measly Novice?

“Will I do?” the Dark Hierophant asked.

“Yes, Hallowed Beyenne.” He offered a mocking bow.

Beyenne, of course. How had she not immediately recognized the Convoco’s Ambassador and Advisor to the Queen. If her former classmates hadn’t interfered, she would have introduced herself to the second most powerful woman in the Queendom.

“Then stop killing my people.” Beyenne’s glare swept over the intruders. “What do you want? Why are you contaminating this Convocation with murder?”

“Today you intend to dedicate a new shrine calling forth Fesman of Moonroe, yes?”

“No,” Beyenne snapped. “New demons are dedicated on and only on the anniversary of their human deaths. Someone from Moonroe should know that.”

Reigh whimpered. Would they slit her throat for the Dark Hierophant’s audacity?

But the leader laughed. “I’m quite aware that ceremony is the first official conversation with demon, but the shrine is built and inhabited long before that. All new demons are Raised at the Convocation. It’s part of the point of this great gathering, isn’t it?”

Gaping, Reigh stared at the man. How could–why would–how dare he blurt a Speaker secret before all these undedicated interlopers?

The Dark Hierophant merely shrugged. “So?”

“Fesman died with the blood of hundreds on his hands. Raising a monster like him to demonhood betrays the people of Moonroe and makes the entire honoring of demons a scam. A farce.”

Had she not been pressed against a knife-wielding maniac, Reigh would have scoffed aloud at that unbelievable rubbish. Not all good people would be raised as demons, but no one evil would ever be. People paid good money for a Speaking. Who’d trust advice from a monster even if they could see all of time?

Beyenne snorted. “Fesman was a respected leader and a great philanthropist.”

Of course, he was, to be honored with demonhood. Obviously this man and his cohorts were all entirely crazy.

“You conflate rich with good and blind yourself to his faults.”

“All people have faults.”

“Hardly anyone’s fault is that they kill people. The Cremony Building collapse? Surely you remember that? Only thirty-five years have passed, you can’t pretend hundreds didn’t die.”

Reigh blinked. The what?

“If I recall correctly fifty-eight people died, not hundreds. And yes, Fesman bought a building that was structurally unsound, but he neither caused nor knew about the problems. The building inspector admitted to taking the previous owner’s money to provide a false report. Fesman misplaced his trust and made amends as best he could. He covered medical care expenses for the injured for decades. He tore down the other buildings that were part of that project–”

“Displacing hundreds of people.”

She snorted. “And replaced those buildings with some of the best built structures in this city.”

“With rents too steep for a single person who lived in the previous structures to afford them. Do you know what happened to all those displaced people?”

“Fesman set up relocation services. He ensured everyone found a new place to live.”

The man huffed. “Are you kidding me? Is this the nonsense you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”

“I know people who worked with the residents and ensured their relocation.” Beyenne matched him sneer for sneer.

“The Moonroe Foundation, the Queen’s Balm, Utche Housing Assistance, Aballe Disaster Aid, they helped the displaced residents. Good works societies, not Fesman. Some of us got to haunt those places as children, while our surviving guardians sought a new place to live.”

Beyenne’s brows drew together. “He was thoroughly involved. The Demial Demon Relations Committee and the Speakers Council do independent reviews into the lives of anyone nominated to be Raised as a demon. Notices are posted in the papers. Any and all responses are fully examined. If anyone on the Committee had doubts about Fesman’s responsibility for that tragedy, we wouldn’t have voted to Raise him. Now what do you want?”

“Don’t Raise him. Destroy his shrine.”

“Who are you to decide for the people of Demial who will be Raised as a demon?”

“The people–”

“Signed the petition to nominate him in the hundreds. You think we should overrule the wishes of over a thousand people–some of whom lived in those original, unsafe structures and were assisted in finding new homes and yes, we do have their testimonials on file–the decision of an independent board, and the findings of the Speakers Council because one man has a different opinion?”

“I’m not just one man.” The man sneered and gestured broadly at his cohorts.

Beyenne scoffed. “A handful of murderous extremists.”

A woman among intruders snorted. “Much more than a handful. We have–”

“Enough,” the leader hissed.

“Nath, we are not–” He hissed. She winced. “We’re not murderers. Tell her that.”

Leaving a trail of bloody footprints in his wake, Nath crossed the space between them, hand raised as if he intended to slap her. The woman flushed and lowered her head. He turned his attention back to the Speaker. “We are not murderers.”

Beyenne said nothing. Merely gestured. Reigh followed the motion and flinched away from her dead classmates. There was so much blood. Bile climbed her throat. She flinched, causing the blade to nick her neck, and froze, but looked away.

Murderers, there was nothing else to call them.

“Hundreds of us wait outside. Many more agree with us. We could destroy you all.”

Beyenne laughed. “Then what? Attempt to live in a world with no one to Speak to the demons? No one left to ensure the balance between realms.”

He sneered. “The students could fulfill that role.”

“Partially trained and without guidance? Or do you know so much about Speaking that you intend to be their guides? Their teachers?”

Nath glared at her. Reigh wrinkled her nose. Did these people want to live like foreign barbarians with no demons to foretell the future? Leave what was to come a complete mystery?

“What do you think to accomplish? You’ve already admitted that you’re too late. The ceremony later is only to celebrate the demon Fesman. We already Raised him.”

Reigh’s lips parted. Already? Today was the first day of the Convocation. The opening prayers should be starting about now. She hadn’t known any events took before that ceremony, not that a lowly Novice would expect to take part in something so important.

“We know there’s a rite to sing a demon back to sleep before dismantling its shrine to prevent it from being called again,” Nath said.

Hisses sounded around the room to hear another Speaker mystery spoken aloud. The general public thought lesser demons sometimes fell dormant, rejoining the somnolent dead. Even Reigh hadn’t known that Speakers cast those demons into that state until her third year of school.

The intruders exchanged looks. Stepping away, Nath whispered with a few of his people before he turned back to Beyenne with a toss of his head. “Let’s go ask him.”

“Ask who what?”

“Fesman. If he’s Raised, let’s go chat with him. Let him tell you who he bribed. What he lied about and got away with.”

 

#

 

Nath and his people dragged a protesting Beyenne from the room. Reigh’s distress was mirrored on the face of every Speaker she could see. What would they do with, do to their Dark Hierophant? She was one of the most important people in their order. To lose her…Reigh couldn’t finish the thought. But Nath’s group had barely cleared the door when one of them stuck his head in and barked, “Bring me those two.”

The men holding Mallin and Reigh shoved them through the door.

“Untried Novices?” Beyenne scoffed as her gaze raked over them. “We would never allow such ignorant youngsters to assist on a First Speaking. I said I need at least two trained Speakers.”

Reigh knew–knew–the Dark Hierophant wanted to protect them. Wanted them left safely, well sort of safely, in the Convoco, but the words grated nonetheless. She hadn’t studied day and night for what felt like all her life and finished top of her class, for anyone to disparage her as untrained.

She flicked her gaze away from the Speaker and accidently met the madman’s eyes. Her face must have shown her offense at Beyenne’s statement, because a huge smirk sprawled across his.

“These two know enough.”

Ignoring Beyenne’s running tirade of protests, they strode down ornamental paths, around fountains and magnificent beds of hibiscus, bromeliad, and clivia under a merrily shining sun. Reigh couldn’t understand how the world simply went on in such peace. The violence inside should be tainting the gardens, the sky itself, spilling through to befoul everything.

But they crossed the moon gate that separated the garden from the paths to the shrines without encountering anything more than a bee, which bumbled by on its route from one orchid to another, blissfully unaware that the world was falling apart. The sundial just beyond the gate proclaimed it still only midmorning.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and zoomed about in her veins. Though she should have been scared out of her wits, she knew the feeling wasn’t only fear. Heading into the sacred hills with a score of violent madmen, who intended to force her to perform a task she didn’t know the rituals for, when so much could go wrong, should be stoking her nerves into a frenzy.

But oh, demons be merciful, those butterflies danced with more than a bit of excitement. If not under these circumstances, how many years might have passed before she had the chance to take part in a First Speaking? A decade? Longer? Surely not. She was the best of her year. But even so, she would never have found herself here, not today nor at any Convocation any time soon.

Rolling hills stretched towards the horizon, dotted with sparkles from silver, copper, crystal and glass ornamentation on various shrines. Though it shouldn’t be, Fesman’s shrine could be hours out from the Convoco.

The knolls closest to the Convoco were fully occupied. Great shrines graced their crests, while smaller shrines dotted the paths that wound to the hilltops, coins, flowers and bottles of drink left by petitioners. who’d come to pray without paying for a Speaking, resting against their bases. Shrines spilled along the paths between the hills themselves. Most new shrines for minor demons perched hillside or path-side. Only the greatest warranted the miles-long walk to an unoccupied rise.

Fesman had been important in local Moonroe society, but he’d not been significant to the Queendom nor a renowned holy man. She doubted he’d warranted his own hill.

About ten minutes later, her belief proved true. Beyenne led them a quarter of the way to the summit where shiny black pillars supported a copper cupola. She longed to push close enough to read the deeds which led to Fesman’s Raising inscribed on the stele planted near the western pillar. Though they’d been published in the paper, she wished reassure herself that she remembered his honor-filled life correctly.

Of course, she utterly trusted the Demial Demon Relations Committee and had every faith in the Speakers Council. They would have done their due diligence, but she knew nothing beyond what she’d seen in the papers about Fesman. His more detailed life story wouldn’t appear in the demonaries, the lifeblood of Demial, the stories of their land’s greatest who’d been Raised to demonhood, until later this year. Though she owned at least two dozen, starting with illustrated children’s versions, she knew she’d need to buy Fesman’s after today’s madness.

In front of the stele and at each of the other cardinal points a crystal sphere rested on a waist-high pole. The Dark Hierophant brushed her fingertips over the western sphere. She pivoted sharply and glowered at Nath, cutting him off mid-order. “I need to speak to my novices in private.”

“No.”

Her nostrils flared. “They aren’t trained in this ritual. I need to instruct them on the ceremony–”

“No one is stopping you. You can tell them all about, right here, with the rest of us.”

“No.”

He fingered the leather hilt of his knife. Knowing his threats weren’t idle, Reigh’s breath caught, but her heart swelled at Beyenne’s bravery. How dare he order her to spill more Speaker secrets to these uninitiated monsters?

The Speaker smiled sweetly but sharply. “If you kill me or either girl, you don’t get to talk to Fesman. If you kill all three of us and destroy the shrine, you free him. His first act will likely be to eat the lot of you.”

His cocky smile froze, and his hand fell away from his knife.

Reigh shuddered. The rites and the shrines granted demons passage into the liminal space between life and death and allowed them to serve as guides for humanity, sharing knowledge about the future and providing sage advice. Without those limits though, the wrongness of being in life but dead sent them into frenzied rampages.

“Let her talk to them,” the oldest man amongst the rebels said. Nath whipped around and met the man’s gaze, before huffing and tossing up a hand in acquiescence.

Beyenne gestured for Reigh and Mallin to come with her. She led them a good fifteen feet away from the others before she asked their names and formally introduced herself.

“You two have been so brave. Stay calm and do as I say, and we’ll get through this. I’m going to need your help now. It should be just like the Speakings you’ve participated in on during your training. You both have done so, yes?”

Both of them nodded.

“Good. Speaking with a demon on its first calling isn’t too dangerous, but it is delicate. Your task will be much the same as when you participated as trainees though this time you two will carry the entire burden of the grounding.”

Mallin’s breath audibly caught. The Dark Hierophant squeezed their hands and let them go. “Stay calm, remember your training, and you’ll be fine. I have complete confidence in you two. You will not let me down.”

Reigh took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. Usually a grounding would be spread between at least three Speakers, a majority of those senior Speakers at that, but she could do this. She knew that without a doubt, even a Dark Hierophant believed in her.

“Any questions?” The Speaker asked.

Mallin raised her hand as if she were back in class. “What happens when Demon Fesman answers their questions?”

“Hopefully we return to the Convoco to find the guards have the situation there in hand. They take custody of this lot and the rest of us can go home.”

The answer startled Reigh. “But the Convocation?”

“Will likely be postponed a day or two. We have dead to bury.”

A small squeak of a sob escaped Mallin’s lips. Reigh took advantage of Mallin’s upset to distract from her own. Giving the other girl one-armed hug, she stared sightlessly across the hills. Though their very dead bodies flashed across her memory, she still couldn’t believe Vel and Bellry were dead, that she’d watched them die and so awfully. And she could still die today. These horrid rogues might kill them all no matter what Fesman said.

The Dark Hierophant patted them on their upper arms, stepped back, and nodded. “You’ll do fine. Believe in yourselves.”

Reigh nodded. Of course, she’d be fine. Mallin, however, might get them all killed.

At the shrine, Beyenne stepped up to the western point. “Mallin, take the north. Reigh, south.”

Mallin moved immediately into position, but Reigh hesitated. “Shouldn’t someone stand opposite you?”

Beyenne shook her head. “Not for a Speaking with only three.”

With a mental shrug, she took the space on the south. This wasn’t a formation she remembered from her studies, but who was she to argue with a Dark Hierophant? The smallest Summoning they’d ever studied involved four people, and she’d never participated in one with less than six. Besides, First Speakings were a complete mystery to her.

She rested her hands gently on the green crystal sphere, though the shrine was so small they could have linked hands, as they had in all their practice summonings.

Beyenne opened her mouth and began to chant in ancient Dem. Eyes wide, the intruders took a step back as one. Smirking, Reigh let her breath and heartbeat fall into rhythm with the Speaker’s invitation. The crystal grew warm as a ghostly blue haze swirled out from under her hands in both directions. Mist danced towards her from the other crystals and encircled the shrine.

Inside the cordon of blue, shimmery white smoke wafted from around the pillars, suffusing the world with the scents of brimstone and sulfur. A small blue flame puffed into existence on the pointed top of the cupola.

Adrenaline zipped through Reigh’s veins in the rush of the connection to the demon realm.

The flame sputtered.

Beyenne’s gaze shot her direction as she growled the next part of the Summoning. Heat scalded Reigh’s cheeks. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten so wrapped up in the incandescent joy of a manifestation that she forgot her part, forgot the danger they were in. Snapping her eyes shut for a half a minute, she relaxed and regained her focus.

The flame stabilized, grew brighter, lengthened into almost the shape of a man, though remained a blur of smoke and flames from the waist down. Its eyes flickered open. Brilliant white light streamed forth. The demon roared.

Her heart stopped. They usually didn’t sound so ferocious, so feral. Struggling to catch her breath, she missed Beyenne reciting the traditional opening words of a Speaking.

The beams from the demon’s eyes subdued to an uncanny glow did nothing for the lump growing in Reigh’s throat.

“What is it humankind wishes of me?” the demon growled.

At that standard question, the tightness in Reigh’s throat subsided. This was going to be okay. They’d successfully Raised Fesman, and everything was going according to script.

“Demon Fesman, these–men have a question for you. They wish to know if you allowed the Cremony Towers to collapse killing all those people?”

“The seller admitted culpability. This is a matter of record.”

“Because you paid him off,” Nath shouted. “He confessed on his deathbed.”

Reigh met Mallin’s shocked gaze and returned a miniscule shake of her head. No way that could be true.

“These gentlemen insist that you as the buyer were also aware that structure was unstable.” The hierophant’s eyes had narrowed as if she too might be questioning Fesman’s answers.

“There are many records affirming I had no idea–”

“You are dead,” Nath shouted, stepping forward. “You don’t need to hide behind lies anymore.”

Reigh only just managed not to snort. When bound in a Speaking, demons couldn’t lie. What would be the point of consulting them if they weren’t a hundred percent honest? Beyenne’s nostrils flared, but she remained focused. “Did you pay off–”

“He’s parroting the same lies he did in life. Compel him to answer honestly,” Nath hissed, pulling Beyenne to him and breaking her hold on the crystal. With a shout, the elderly man ripped away Nath’s hands, freeing the Hierophant, but it was too late.

The swirl of blue mist tore. White smoke spewed toward Beyenne. She shouted words that Reigh recognized as a closing of the veils between realms, though they had no effect now.

With a howl that sounded like a yes, Demon Fesman rushed through the gap as Beyenne crumpled to the ground. Ignoring her, the demon caught Nath and swirled around him, encasing the man in fire and smoke. Terrible screams erupted from within the whirlwind, and equally terribly, they abruptly ended.

The demon shot up several feet into the sky, leaving behind a cracked skull perched atop a pile of ash. He doubled in size and roared with a force that shook the very ground, sending the intruders fleeing, screaming as they ran. Fesman roared again and gave chase. His next victim made it about five feet from the shrine before he was tossed spinning high into the sky.

Dashing to Beyenne’s side, Reigh slid to her knees though she dared not touch her. A pulse visibly throbbed in the Dark Hierophant’s neck. Alive then. Relief would have made her faint had she still be standing.

She leaned close to whisper, “Hallowed Beyenne? Can you hear me?”

But Fesman’s laughter drowned out her question. Freezing, Reigh slowly raised her head. Her relief to find the demon not standing overhead, laughing at, focused on her was so great tears sprang to her eyes.

Some thirty, forty yards down the path, Fesman continued to play with his victims, tossing one at the fleeing rebels and scooping them up in ones and twos to disembowel one, flay another. A patch of blood and gore stained the ground at the foot of the hill. He must have eaten another one. Bile burned her throat.

A hand touched her shoulder. She screamed before she could stop herself.

Eyes wide, she and Mallin stared at each other, then watched in horror as the demon paused in its games and floated toward them.

“What do we do?” Mallin squeaked.

Needs must. Not quite daring a slap or a shake, Reigh patted Beyenne’s shoulder, touched her face. They needed assistance, needed a Speaker who knew how to recapture a demon. This wasn’t a subject they’d studied in school.

Oh, sure, they’d been taught their histories. Horror stories of demons escaping due to vandalism, accidents, faulty summonings and natural disasters. Outside the summoning circle the demons lost all reason, all self-awareness, and become nothing more than ravening monsters–just like the one drifting toward her on a trail of smoke.

Beyenne’s head lolled to the side. She wasn’t waking and shaking her would probably be completely the exact opposite of what she needed for her injury. Reigh let go her shoulder and straightened, prying Mallin’s hand off her arm and squeezing it tightly in her own.

Never in any of her studies had an instructor explained how a demon was recaptured and sent back to hell. Oh, she knew Adept Kammes had singlehandedly banished Demons Imwin, Kohel and Ciotti when an earthquake in Cerisol toppled their shrines nineteen years ago.

And, a few hundred years ago, Light Hierophant Zebrina had raised a ward around the holy park of Lexha when the Kingdom of Tait sought to conquer Demial and began by sending in saboteurs to unleash the demons there. They’d destroyed eleven shrines before the demons they’d unleashed killed them all. Zebrina ensured not one demon escaped before a squad of Speakers could lay them back to rest.

But the stories never explained how.

No one made them learn the spell Zebrina used or shared how Kammes banished those demons. She’d read ten times the books required in their studies, had made it through six of the eight shelves of Speakers’ biographies in the school’s library. Any book a teacher mentioned, she added to her to-read list. While she knew more about the life of a Speaker than any other Novice, she didn’t know enough.

And she clearly she lacked the intelligence to be truly great, to ever ascend to the rank of Hierophant herself. For why in the name of all the hells had she, with her famous curiosity and burning need to know all there was about the demons, never asked how to banish a rampaging demon?

“What do we do?” Mallin squeaked. “Reigh, what do we do?”

The brilliant white eyes of the demon flared with fury. They’d be out of time in seconds. Fesman was no more than fifteen yards away and closing fast. He roared and pivoted to swipe one of the intruders off the ground. His screams couldn’t be differentiated from his comrades, who watched in horror–most momentarily before fleeing, though one or two had frozen, paralyzed with fear. The demon rose a good twenty feet before blood puffed into the air. A rope of intestines fell from the sky. Reigh couldn’t look away no matter how desperately she wished not to see.

The demon’s laughter drowned out the screams as it swooped down on the next nearest of the intruders.

“What do we do?” Mallin asked again. “It’ll kill us all.”

What could they do? What could she do? They were half-trained as Beyenne had said. They’d finished their schooling, but they’d yet to start their journeys. While they could assist in a basic Speaking, they’d not even been cleared to study how an incident like this should be handled, and everyone who knew–

Snapping out of her panicked rumination, she gripped Mallin’s wrists. “We have to get them.”

“Get who? The intruders?” The other girl’s eyes stared back into hers, but Reigh was pretty sure she saw nothing in her terror.

“The Speakers, the Hierophants, Dark and Light, the Exalted Voices, and the Whisperers, they need to be told. They can stop this.” She hated to say it aloud, but it was the truth. “We can’t.”

Mallin looked at her like she conversed in ancient Dem. She pointed a wavering hand at Fesman, who was currently shredding one of the intruders. “We-we-we can’t reach them. If we run he’ll see us. Do that to us. We need to hide better so he doesn’t find us.”

The other girl started to twist away, to act on her statement, but Reigh clasped both her wrists so tightly she hoped she’d merely leave bruises and not break any bones. “You can get to them. Mobilize the Speakers.”

Mallin shook her head. “We’d never make it.”

“It took us maybe ten minutes to get here, if you go straight, ignore the paths, you can run back in half that.”

A blood-curdling scream drew Mallin’s attention away. Reigh followed her stare. The demon was eviscerating someone else.

“He’ll kill us all,” Mallin whispered, tears cracking her words.

“We have to stop him. We’re the only ones who can. You are the only one who can.”

Whites showing all the way around her eyes, Mallin met her gaze. She shook her head slowly. “I’d never make it.”

“You will. I’m going to distract Fesman. Trust me, I promise to buy you the time you need to get back to the Convoco.”

“Reigh–”

“We don’t have time to argue. Beyenne doesn’t have time for this. She’s helpless.” Reigh nodded at the unconscious Hierophant. “We need help. Someone has to get the Speakers. I’ll do it if you want to distract the demon.”

Mallin’s eyes bugged out. “I–no. I’ll go. I–I’ll get help.”

“Okay. On the count of three, you run. If you don’t, I will. And I’ll expect you to stay and do whatever it takes to keep Fesman from coming after me.” Reigh took a deep breath. “One, two–”

Mallin sprang away, racing straight down the hill.

Trembling, Reigh rose. She shot Beyenne a troubled glance as she lowered her hands on the crystal ball the Hierophant had used during their summoning. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Tried to swallow, but the throat wasn’t meant to swallow dust. Mallin had disappeared from sight, somewhere behind a shrine or hill. She had to trust Mallin ran on, hadn’t ducked into a hiding place. Fesman spun a human in the air and stopped, facing the direction Mallin had run.

Did he see Mallin?

A frantic curse managed its way through her lips. If she could curse, she could Speak. She knew the Words of Closing, the words Beyenne had begun after Nath destroyed the summoning circle. She forced the words out in a rasp, though her throat ached as it tried to close around the spell. The demon swooped up one of the remaining intruders, continuing his merry destruction. He might not have noticed her prayer, but he hadn’t noticed Mallin either.

That knowledge gave her courage. She gripped the crystal tightly and began the Closing again. This time the words came out loud and strong. The air around her buzzed as the crystal grew warm beneath her fingers, tingled.

A roar nearly bowled her over. She didn’t look, didn’t want to know. Instead she continued reciting the Closing and when she reached the end, she started over.

Sparks shot out of the crystal, burning her fingers. She cursed, breaking her recitation to soothe the scalding fingers with her mouth. In the distance she could see the tiny figure of Mallin not quite to the gardens yet, but so very close. She’d make it.

Reigh forced her stinging hands back on the sphere. The words tumbled off her tongue. She locked her gaze with the furious white fire of Fesman’s as he whirled through the air toward her. The wind of his rage battered against her though he had more than a hundred yards still to cross.

She screamed the next line of the Closing. The crystal spat another spark. This one sharp enough to make her shriek. She clasped the burning crystal with throbbing hands and continued the Closing.

The words seemed to be doing nothing, but irritating, infuriating the demon, drawing him to her while Mallin–she stumbled over the next phrase. Nothing stirred near the gate where Mallin should be running. Had she already made it through? Fesman couldn’t have spotted her, couldn’t have killed her, not without Reigh seeing.

She reached the last word and began again. Her death was flying at her, but what else could she do? Die fighting or crawling, sobbing on the ground? And that wasn’t the point.

Mallin shot out from behind a shrine, sprinting the last couple of feet to the moon gate. Joy filled Reigh’s next verse in the Closing. Mallin was going to make it. Even if Fesman noticed her now, he’d never reach her before she got to the Speakers. She’d save Moonroe.

Brilliant white light filled her vision. Screaming, blinded, she flung a hand over her eyes. Terror buzzed through her veins. Fire and rage enveloped her, her death coming to call. Under its roar, beneath her screams, she swore she heard a familiar craggy voice demand, “Unleash my Novice.”

Walls of black screeched together, casting out the blaze of light. She struggled to keep her eyes open, to blink away the darkness, to see where that gravelly order came from. But the darkness was too powerful. It pulled her under.

 

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Lynn Rushlau graduated from the University of Texas with a degree in Anthropology and minor in Sociology–which seem like awesome planning for a life creating cultures and societies, but she’ll admit to not have been thinking that far in advance.  She lives in Addison, Texas, with two agents of chaos, otherwise known as cats.