C. Brittain - A Bad Spell in Yurt

I couldn’t see the angel’s or devil’s face behind the candle, although the fact that I couldn’t keep my eyes open properly may have had much to do with it. I lay back and awaited my fate.

The candle was put down by my head. I could see its light, pink through my closed eyelids. There was a slight creak of joints as the angel or the devil knelt beside me.

He put his hand lightly over my heart, and then I could feel his hair tickle my nose as he put his ear to my mouth. He was so gentle that I decided he had to be an angel.

“Thank God,” said the angel in Joachim’s voice. “He is alive.”

I tried to speak but managed only a faint croak. I moved one of my arms experimentally and was able slowly to reach up to feel a pair of clasped hands and a cheek wet with tears.

Joachim put his arms around me, under my shoulders, and drew me partly up and out of the water. “Can you hear me?” he asked quietly. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

I tried again to speak. This time I was more successful. “I thought I was dead.”

“I think you were. But it’s no good your coming back from the dead if you then die of pneumonia.”

“Did you ever contact the bishop?” I croaked. It had been my final thought.

“Yes; I asked him to send me an answer here in Yurt, and it was here when I arrived.” He tried to ease me into a sitting position. “He said that if someone lets himself be killed, even killed by a demon, for completely pure reasons, his soul will go straight to heaven.”

Just my luck. Probably the only time in my entire adult life my soul would ever be completely pure, and I’d wasted my chance by coming back to life.

“But how did you get here?” I asked, realizing I had last seen him thirty miles away, in the duchess’s castle.

“When you flew away, I knew at once I had to follow you. As soon as I’d sent the message to the bishop, I went to the stable and took the queen’s stallion-I didn’t give the stable boys a chance to argue. I was here by mid afternoon.” There was a sound that would have been a chuckle from anyone else. “I’ve never been on a horse that went that fast. I found the drawbridge down when I arrived.”

“I’d lowered it.”

“I had intended to rush down into the cellars after you. But great choking clouds of yellow brimstone were billowing out, and vipers and scorpions were crawling up the stairs. It was clear that no one could walk a dozen yards into the cellars and live. I got as far as the door and couldn’t go any further. I knew then the only way I could help you was through prayer.

“So I rubbed down the stallion, went to the dovecot in the south tower for the bishop’s answer, and then to the chapel, and I’ve been there ever since.”

He tried to pull me further out of the water. “Do you think you could walk if I supported you? I could probably carry you, but I’m afraid of dropping you with the floor so slippery.”

“Help me up.” Although all my joints ached excruciatingly, I could actually stand. I checked my throat for fang marks and my chest for a hole and found nothing. But my red velvet jacket streamed with water, now as thoroughly ruined as my new suit.

“But why did you come down now ?”

“Just now, fifteen minutes ago, I felt a sudden certainty that whatever was going to happen was over. Whether the demon would go or stay, or you would live or die-and when I reached the cellars, most of the brimstone was gone.”

We proceeded slowly up a long slope, out of the standing water, me half collapsed against Joachim and both his arms around me. Abruptly I stopped, and he stopped with me. “Oh, no,” I said. “I’ve broken the agreement by coming back to life. The demon must still be here.”

“ Is he?” asked Joachim, very low in my ear.

I took a breath and managed to find enough words of the Hidden Language to probe for evil. There was none. When I had walked down this corridor into the cellars, the air had been so permeated with evil I had barely been able to move. Now there was nothing but abandoned store rooms whose floors flowed with icy water. I probed further. There was no evil mind in the castle, not even the oblique touch of the demon when he had been hiding from me. He was indeed gone.

“It’s all right,” I said, fairly complacently considering that I was now shivering so hard I had trouble speaking through chattering teeth. “I thought I’d done the negotiations right. The demon killed me and went back to hell without either the Lady Maria’s soul or mine.”

“Let’s keep moving, then,” said Joachim gently.

We staggered on to the foot of the stairs. A big silver crucifix leaned against the open cellar door. Here Joachim did have to carry me, lifting me with a grunt over his shoulder. “Thank you for bringing me back to life,” I gasped.

“I had nothing to do with it. The saints had mercy on you and interceded with God for a miracle.”

I had my own ideas about who had enough influence with the saints to bring that about, but it was too hard to argue. Joachim carried me up the cellar stairs to the courtyard.

The sky was dark, except for some faint streaks of light in the east. Swung across Joachim’s shoulder, I took as deep a breath as I could of the cold winter air.

As we came into the courtyard, I saw a swirl of faces, of people I had believed thirty miles away, and heard a sudden incoherent murmur of voices. This was all too confusing to me in my present state, so I let my eyes fall shut again. Joachim paused, and the voices were all around us.

“He’s alive!” he said in a tone of command that carried over all the rest. “Now, in the name of God, step back and let us pass!”

They fell silent, and Joachim strode on, while I wondered without much curiosity what had happened.

But when we reached my chambers, he had to turn and bend down so that I could reach out and touch the magic lock with my palm to free the spell. With the demon gone, my locks should be safe after this, and I would be able to write letters without the paper being permeated with the supernatural influence of a demon who had been rummaging through my possessions.

Inside, Joachim pulled my drenched clothes off and wrapped me in blankets while he found me some pajamas. He pulled my bed close to the fire and knelt to rekindle the blaze. As I fell among the pillows, I saw that his clothes too were filthy and soaking.

“I’m afraid you’ve ruined your new vestments coming for me,” I said. At the moment it seemed inexpressibly sad that he had done so.

But he shook his head and smiled. “I’ll go change and come right back to sit with you. I want to make sure you don’t develop pneumonia.”

“What day is it?”

“It’s dawn of New Year’s day, the morning after you went to meet the demon.”

“I think I’ll go to sleep now,” I said indistinctly, feeling warm waves of sleep breaking over me as I slowly stopped shivering. “But I think when I wake up I’m going to be very hungry.”

I had of course done everything wrong. I thought about this with pleasant detachment some twenty-four hours later, from what seemed a great distance, lying comfortably propped up in a warm bed with the sun pouring through my windows, eating cinnamon crullers and drinking scalding tea. My breakfast tray was decorated with holly.

Joachim had gone to celebrate morning service in the chapel, but I had managed to wake up enough to speak briefly to him before he left and to order my breakfast. Everyone, it turned out, was home again.

The first place I had gone wrong was in being too frightened for months to admit the obvious to myself, that a demon was loose in Yurt. Nothing else, not even a master wizard, could have repeatedly broken my magic locks as though they were cobwebs, or filled the cellars with such a powerful sense of evil that even a first-year wizardry student would have felt it. I should have realized at once what was happening, rather than waiting until it brought a dragon down on us.