Demonkin (3 page)

“That is what the fairies are for.” Garth nodded.

“There was a fairy message just a while ago,” interjected Sidney. “King Arik says that he thinks they have found all of the Doors. He asks that we find their counterparts on this continent.”

“That is a tall order.” Garth frowned. “How does he expect us to find a couple of dozen doors in this vast land?”

“He did not say,” replied Sidney, “but he is concerned about the nature and timing of the attacks on Alcea. Perhaps you should view the message yourself.”

The merchant stuck his finger in his pocket and stirred a fairy to life. The tiny woman poked her blue head out of the pocket and beamed when she saw Alexander Tork. She leaped out of the pocket and hovered over the table. When Garth nodded his assent, the fairy cast an image above the table. The image resolved into a view of the library in the Royal Palace in Tagaret. King Arik and Queen Tanya were prominent in the image and a dozen other advisers were also present. The group stood around a table with a map spread over it, and the map had two-dozen coins placed upon it. Garth stared at the map as the king spoke.

“We now know the locations of twenty-four Doors in Alcea,” King Arik said. “I suspect that we have found them all, but that knowledge by itself is insufficient to develop a proper defense. If we assume that all Doors will be used simultaneously, a quarter of a million men will be streaming into Alcea around our four most important cities. With foreknowledge of the attacks, we might inflict heavy losses on the enemy, but we will be spread too thin to win. Worse, they might send all of their men to one city at a time. If that happens, Alcea is surely lost. It is imperative that you locate the Doors on your end. By doing so, you can keep us informed of troop movements and how they are planning to assemble for the attack. We need as much information as you can provide to help us survive this coming storm.”

“Also,” Queen Tanya interjected, “if they all do attack one city, destroying the Doors after they come here will prohibit them from going back to use other Doors to get to another of our cities.”

“Right,” agreed King Arik. “That will leave them fighting on our side of the portals and they will not have the supplies they need to survive. Find those Doors, Alex.”

The vision winked out and Garth frowned in concentration.

“Alex?” asked General Skye. “Who is Alex?”

“I am,” answered Garth. “Our real names are Alexander and Jenneva Tork. As our names were well known to the forces of Balmak, we have traveled under assumed names. Garth and Kalina are merely the names we are using at the moment.”

“Why don't they just destroy some of the Doors?” asked Sidney. “Wouldn't that limit the number of troops they have to fight?”

“It would,” Garth nodded, “but it presents other problems. As soon as the Alceans destroy a single Door, the Federation will know that we are aware of the portals. I think that secrecy of the Doors is the only thing forestalling a full attack on the horse countries. We cannot afford that. If the Federation conquers Zarocca and Korocca, there will be no attack on this continent to destroy the Federation's home base.”

“It will also prompt the Federation to send more Doors to Alcea,” added Kalina, “and our people will not know the locations of the new ones.”

“What about moving some of them?” asked Natia.

Everyone turned to see that Tedi and Natia had entered the room.

“We need to pay better attention to our own security,” scowled Garth. “We are getting lax.”

“What do you mean, Natia?” Kalina asked the gypsy princess.

“When the gypsies move and set up a new camp,” explained Natia, “it is hardly apparent that the campsite has moved. With the exception of the location of some trees, the encampment often looks identical to the one we just left. Why can't we choose where we want the Doors to be and then recreate the look and feel of the original location?”

Garth nodded silently for a moment before speaking. “That suggestion has merit. It would take a good deal of preparation to make the locations appear the same, but it could be done.”

“Where would they move the Doors to?” asked Tedi.

“I do not know,” answered Garth, “but any movement would disorient the enemy and give us an advantage. If their plan calls for coordinating the various armies, which I am sure it will, the enemy will be in disarray.”

“It could even be worse than that,” interjected Kalina. “Imagine if some of the Doors were moved to the island of Grakus. The enemy would have no means of reaching the mainland.”

“Which makes it more imperative for us to find the Doors on this continent,” stated Garth. “Those on Grakus would turn around and come back here only to use a different Door. We need to be able to make sure that they cannot return.”

“We should send word of this discussion to Arik,” suggested Kalina. “They are best equipped to determine where they want the Doors to be.”

“The fairy will carry our conversation to the king.” Garth nodded. “I will also send a message regarding our progress. We should also get a message to Clint. He might be able to find out where the Doors are in Zara.”

“Where do we go next?” asked Tedi.

“To Valdo,” answered Garth. “We need to see the rest of the Federation strongholds before the attacks begin.”

“Tedi and Natia can go alone to Valdo,” suggested Kalina. “I need some more time here before we join them. There are things I must discuss with Sigfrid, and I want to see whatever maps they may have of Sirocca before it became buried under the Sands of Eternity. Fakir led me to believe that something important lies beneath the sands.”

* * * *

Deep in the Forest of Death four demons stood watching as a K'san's face clouded with pain. Although the demonkin said nothing, D'Artim watched with concern. The demonkin groaned softly and dropped to his knees.

“What is wrong with him?” asked D'Lycind.

“Quiet,” reprimanded D'Artim. “We will know soon enough. Observe and learn.”

The demonkin's hands went to his neck, and the creature bared his teeth in rage. The fit lasted only a moment, and the demonkin stood as if nothing had happened. The demons waited for a report from K'san, but the creature offered no explanation.

“Speak,” commanded D'Artim as he grew impatient. “What causes you pain?”

“One of my kin has been defeated,” K'san replied. “A sword that is more than a sword has removed his head.”

“Another?” groused D'Wycaram as he glared at D'Artim. “Over half of your invincible demonkin have been defeated. Not one of the Mage’s heroes has been killed.”

“Continue with your report,” D'Artim demanded of the demonkin, ignoring the complaint from his fellow demon.

“One of us was sent to Herinak,” replied K'san. “He was to destroy the Alcean mage. Care was taken to avoid the one with the staff, but it did not matter. He was struck down from behind with a sword.”

D'Artim spat a glob of acidic spittle at the demonkin and waved at him in a dismissive manner. K'san turned and walked away.

“They are worthless,” D'Lycind said with scorn.

“They are not worthless,” argued D'Artim. “They are just not being used properly. What fool sent a K'san to Herinak?”

“I did,” confessed D'Cavan. “Why was it foolish? The Alcean mage is powerful. She must be destroyed.”

“K'san is well known to the Alceans,” explained D'Artim. “How easily do you think he fit in among the Occans? One glance at him and I bet they had their shields already erected. The K'sans must be used as they were intended to be used. They are to control the populace and prepare the masses for war. They must not be wasted on the Knights of Alcea.”

“Killing the Knights of Alcea would do more to ensure victory than any other action,” argued D'Cavan.

“Do not confuse our victory with that of the Federation,” scowled D'Artim. “I do not care who wins their petty war. Our goal is only the restoration of Alutar. I care not for the goals of others.”

“The war is needed for the tears of millions,” D'Lycind reminded the other demon. “Besides, the death of a Knight of Alcea would be some repayment for the condition of our master.”

The head demon stood silently for a moment and then reluctantly nodded in agreement. “There is a debt to be paid by the Knights of Alcea,” he declared, “but it cannot be obtained with the likes of K'san. Besides, K’san is not ours to use. They belong to another. Something greater than K’san is needed to collect on the debt owed to us by the Knights of Alcea.”

Without explanation, D'Artim turned and walked away. The other three demons followed silently, and the group ended up on the shore of the lava lake. As the other watched from a distance, D'Artim fell to his knees at the edge of the lava. He bowed his head reverently, and the lava began to boil violently. The turmoil increased to a furious tempo and then the lava parted in the center of the lake. Slowly a black mass began to emerge from the lava, and the other three demons swiftly dropped to their knees.

The massive black object rose upward, lava flowing off its skin like rain flowing off a statue. Within moments the upper half of Alutar rose to the surface of the lava lake, and the other three demons gave vocal vows of reverence. D'Artim ignored them. For several long minutes, D'Artim knelt, staring wordlessly at his master. Without warning, Alutar slowly sunk back under the lava, and eventually the troubled surface of the lake calmed. D'Artim rose to his clawed feet and bowed reverently. He turned to face the other demons.

“Was that real?” asked D'Cavan.

“Why you?” asked D'Wycaram.

“You should not need to ask about the realness of our master,” scowled the head demon. “As for why I have been chosen, the answer is simple. While you three are favored for your continued diligence to his principles, I alone spent the last thousand years trying to free Alutar from his imprisonment.”

“Did he speak to you?” asked D'Lycind.

“He did,” D'Artim grinned. “Our plea has been heard. We are to obtain four elven women to create a new breed of demonkin. Each of us shall spawn a creature to track down and kill the Knights of Alcea.”

“What will be special about them?” asked D'Cavan.

“Each will be unique,” explained D'Artim, “and they will be much more powerful and intelligent than the K'sans. They are to be known as the Claws of Alutar.”

“This is exciting,” grinned D'Cavan. “I shall send for the women immediately.”

“No.” D'Artim shook his head. “Ordinary elven women will not suffice. The chosen women must hail from the lineage of King Elisar, the ancient king of all elves.”

Waxhaw was a major hub of transport on the west coast of Vinafor, and it had existed for over a thousand years. While many parts of the city had been modernized over the centuries, the old part of the city still remained the same with its narrow, twisting alleys. The shops were tiny by modern standards, and few people bothered to visit the old district any more. Still there were items available in the old district that were not available anywhere else.

The old man meandered down the narrow alleys as if merely out for a morning stroll, but his eyes constantly flicked left and right as if he were searching for something particular. Deep in the warren of the old district, the old man halted in front of a narrow shop that bore no sign. The small window fronting the shop was so dirty that it was impossible to see through, and the shop's location, exactly where the skinny alley turned, would have made most people pass it by without knowing that it existed. The old man was not put off by appearances. He put his hand to the door and smiled with surprise as the door actually opened. He strode into the shop and heard a small bell announce his arrival.

The tiny shop was packed with books. Bookshelves ran the length of the two walls, and only a narrow pathway led between them. Even that pathway had piles of books cluttering it, and the old man had to step carefully to avoid damaging the books. At the far end of the pathway was a small table with a curtain behind it. He halted at the table and waited for the proprietor to appear. After several minutes had passed, and no one had come to greet him, the old man stepped around the table and passed through the curtain.

Beyond the curtain were more books, and the air was musty. There were no bookshelves to hold them, so the books were merely piled one atop another, and the piles reached nearly to the ceiling. The old man moved through the piles and soon found himself at the rear of the shop. A tall, thin, blond woman sat on the floor reading a weighty tome. Beside her on a piece of cloth was a glass of water and a piece of moldy bread. He stood watching the woman for some time, but she seemed oblivious to his presence. Eventually he felt compelled to speak.

“I do not see how you can ever make a profit at this business,” the old man said. “For several days your shop has remained closed, and when it finally does open, you pay no mind to your customers.”

The woman looked up with a startled expression on her face. Her face blushed with embarrassment as the words of the old man registered. She gently put down the book she had been reading and rose to her feet.

“I am sorry,” she apologized. “I must not have heard the bell.”

“For days I have not even been able to make the bell sound,” complained the old man. “The door has been locked.”

“I forget sometimes,” the woman said sheepishly. “Is there a particular book that you are interested it?”

“Do you happen to have a copy of Shelman's Treatise on Auroras?” asked the old man.

“No.” The woman shook her head emphatically.

“How can you be sure?” asked the old man. “You have thousands of books here.”

“I am sure,” declared the woman. “I know every book in this store. I have never even heard of Shelman's Treatise on Auroras. I do not have a copy. Do you have one to sell? I would be interested in obtaining one.”

“There is probably nothing in it that you do not already know,” smiled the old man. “Why do you read so much?”

“To read is to gain knowledge,” answered the woman. “Is there anything you want?”

“Valera,” stated the old man.

“Excuse me?” frowned the woman. “Do I know you?”