David Dalglish - Dawn of Swords

“You almost sound as if you admire the creature,” said Azariah.

“I’d say it’s more like I am intrigued .” He patted the sack propped against his leg. “I’ve been searching for proof of the demons’ existence since the first day I heard this tale. My journal won’t be complete until I’m able to inscribe their secrets within.…”

“Darling,” said Brienna, squirming impatiently in his lap, “you’re drifting.”

Jacob laughed. “So I am. Where were we? Oh yes, the rise of the undead. With Velixar’s desiccated army standing beside those of his brother demons, they pushed the elves far north into Kal’droth, the last vestige of hope in the land, where they fought to a stalemate for fifty years in the mountains. The stalemate worked to the demons’ advantage, for the dead require no sustenance. The elves on the other hand.…

“It was Celestia who saved her creations, of course, though why the goddess allowed her children to suffer so, none can say for certain. Some say it was the pride of the elves, who had thought they were above needing Celestia’s guidance. Some say the demons were beyond the goddess’s power, and even others claim she was slumbering during the attack and was awakened at last by the damage done to her beautiful world.”

Jacob’s eyes twinkled.

“But no one knows what happened to the demons, or where the goddess sent them. In fact, I dare say they still might be out there, waiting, lurking, hoping to return.…”

“What?” gasped Roland. His heart was racing, and suddenly a world he’d believed to be so safe and secure was filled with wolves, winged monsters, and demons of old. “Is that true?”

Azariah rolled his eyes, and Brienna sighed as Jacob nodded.

“I found a scroll that had been hidden deep within the sarcophagus of Neyvar Kardious. Within that scroll was a single prophesy, written in Elvish and with the typical prophetic vagaries. It said that after the deaths of the Mother, the Skeptic, and the False Prophet, the demons will be reborn on the very spot where Celestia had cast them out. A portal will be opened to their prison, and the demon kings will rise again.”

Roland gulped. “And where is that? Where will they be reborn?”

The fire created flecks of red that danced across Jacob’s features. He leaned closer, looking Roland dead in the eye, and said, “No one knows. The only mention I have found is one that says, It is in the place of eternal cold, where the rocks on the earth have been sewn shut and not a blade of grass will grow, where the eternal have wandered, and the air is thick with the musk of creation and the darkness of dreams. That could be anywhere.”

Brienna punched her lover in the chest. “Stop it, Jacob. You’re scaring the boy with your tall tales.”

“I’m not a boy ,” Roland exclaimed, frustrated. “I wished you’d quit saying that.”

“So you’ve said already,” laughed Azariah.

The elf sighed. “Fine then. Jacob, tell him where it really is.”

Jacob nodded. “There are those that think the portal resides in the Tinderlands, some at the Black Spire in Ker, and still others believe it exists anywhere Celestia places her feet when she chooses to descend from the heavens. But I know the truth. I discovered it some time ago but kept it secret, not uttering the demons’ names lest they hear me and awaken.”

Roland’s eyes widened. “Where?”

Jacob squinted, reached behind his back.

“Right… below you! ” he screamed, tossing something long and moving at him.

Roland’s heart leapt into his throat. He shrieked as a snake landed in his lap, all glimmering black scales and darting pink tongue. He kicked backward, swiping at it with his off hand, but it tumbled inside his blanket, writhing against him. Roland shot to his feet, letting the blanket fall to the ground, and ran around in a circle, slapping at himself to make sure the slithering creature was gone. The thump-thump-thump in his chest raced faster than a hyena chasing after an antelope.

There was laughter all around him. Roland stopped his thrashing and saw Jacob chuckling into his fist, Brienna rolled up in a ball and cackling, and Azariah guffawing at the heavens, his large hands slapping at the ground. In that moment, he felt his neck grow warm as anger worked its way over his shoulders and into his clenched fists.

“You should have seen your face,” Azariah said between fits of laughter.

“It was priceless! ” squealed Brienna.

“Very funny,” Roland muttered.

Jacob waved a hand at him. “Oh, Roland, don’t be angry. We were just having fun with you.”

“You call making a fool of me fun? ”

“Well, yes. But it also serves a practical purpose.”

Roland was still fuming.

“And what might that be?” he asked.

“Are you frightened any longer?”

“Well…no.”

Azariah grabbed his wineskin from the stump behind him, lifted it.

“Now that is something I can drink to,” he said before bringing the skin to his lips and downing its contents.

Roland walked timidly back to the fire, feeling ashamed and gullible, and sank back town into his previous spot. He wrapped the blanket around him again-making sure it was free of snakes beforehand-and let out a deep sigh.

Jacob’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him in tight. “Listen, my young steward, I meant no offense. However, it is true that there’s much you don’t know of the world. Despite what I said, Azariah was correct. But you can defeat fear if you force your mind not to dwell on what makes you afraid, and act in spite of your terror. It is a skill you are going to have to learn rather quickly, I’m afraid.”

“Why?” asked Roland.

“Because if what the merchant told me in the delta is true, if the followers of Karak are massing an army in the Tinderlands, then I have a suspicion your world will never be the same again.”

“Oh.”

Jacob slapped him on the back before giving Brienna a kiss on her forehead. He tossed a couple of the logs he’d collected onto the fire, and then he and his elf lover reclined on the nettle-coated ground, tugging their blankets up to their necks. Azariah did the same on the other side of the blaze.

“Now get some sleep,” Jacob said, his voice sounding far away. “We have a lot of riding to do tomorrow, and you’ll need your rest.”

Roland tried to do as he was told, but he did nothing but twist and turn for hours. His fear returned in the silence, and the darkness behind his eyelids showed him three horrific creatures with burning red eyes and lashing tentacles, monsters that defied human definitions. They crept about in the interior of his mind, haunting him, stalking him, taunting him. Whenever he dared open his eyes, he saw the moon high above and imagined it splitting open as if it were a painting torn by a knife, an army of winged monsters in red armor spilling out of the crevasse. Before those things, even the tranquility of Safeway felt powerless.

When he finally did fall into a restless slumber, he was shaking.

The creature loomed before the kingling, saliva dripping from its fangs. A thousand limbs stretched out of the darkness, slimy feelers shimmering in the unnatural dreamlight. Eyes burning red emerged from the black, casting a nightmarish glow on a hideous face in perpetual motion, always shifting, becoming people he knew and people he had never met.

Geris screeched and fled the other way, but he seemed to be running too slowly. His heart pounded so hard in his chest that he began to feel faint. And still the monster grew closer, so close he could feel its hot breath on his back, could smell the putrid stench of decay and sulfur rippling off its flesh.