PREFACE: This month, Reikk faces a howler. But there’s a darker secret lurking behind her constant wailing…
Blood dripped from my wounds as I stumbled into the streets of Edammedd. My vision was bleary, and my chest hurt like hell. The coolness of the air and the scent of freshly baked bread did nothing to soothe me.
Truthfully, I’d had better days.
People stared at me with red eyes. Perhaps they would have been wary, had they not been so weary.
Dragging my feet, I made it to the inn.
The owner watched me approach.
“You can’t sleep here,” he said before I’d even opened my mouth.
“Good,” I said bitterly. “I only need to rest. A room, please.”
He frowned, though I couldn’t help but notice the red circles around his eyes.
“Can you pay?”
With some difficulty, I grabbed a pouch from my belt, pulled it off, and tossed it on the counter. He emptied the contents into his hand and, unnervingly, counted the coins.
“That should be enough for two days.” His frown deepened as he looked me up and down. “You’ll have to pay extra for a healer.”
“No need,” I muttered.
“Don’t you go and put blood on my sheets or—”
I clicked my tongue. “I’ll happily pay for any damage I make. Now, could I have a key already?”
He snorted, turned, grabbed one from the wall, and held it out.
“Room 10. But you can’t sleep here,” he added, repeating his earlier words.
I was too exhausted to question his sanity, so I just snatched the damn thing and slowly made my way up the stairs.
“You really should see a healer,” I heard him call out after me.
As if he cared. Idiot.
Without bothering to answer, I stepped into the hall and looked for my room. I entered it, locked myself in, and slumped onto the bed.
***
If you ever travel through Britony and come across a red dragon with a silver streak, I don’t recommend trying to reason with it. It has a temper.
Damn thing ate my horse in one bite.
Unbelievable.
I’m lucky I got out of there alive.
There’s some evidence that I might be immortal, but I wasn’t curious enough to test my luck. So I ported out before it attempted to eat me for dessert.
In case you’re wondering, I slept just fine, despite the innkeeper’s statement to the contrary.
A knock on the door woke me.
I swore to God, if it was him, I’d eat him for breakfast.
Sitting on the bed, I inspected my wounds. The spell I’d cast had already healed most of them, though my body still ached, and I could see nasty bruises where claws had dug deep into flesh.
More knocks. Closer together this time.
“Alright!” I shouted. “I’m coming!”
I stood and made for the door. Smiled when I noticed I could walk without limping.
Two men I’d never seen before stood outside. One had his hand up, ready to knock again, when I swung the door open. He jumped back, startled. Blinked. Frowned as he looked behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw the sheets were covered in blood.
“Already told your boss I’d pay for anything I damaged,” I said with a grunt. “Now if you don’t mind, I really need to rest.”
“Wait!” His eyes went over my body as he spoke. “I don’t work for the inn. My name is Harvan. Lord Thamian sent me. He heard that you were in town...” He paused. “You are the one they call Reikk, yes?”
Why would anyone call me anything else?
“That is my name.”
Harvan nodded. “Then my master would have a word with you.” He motioned toward the other man. “Sent his personal healer to attend to your wounds.” Another pause as he considered me again. “Though I’m not sure that you need him.”
There was a touch of wonder in his voice.
“I don’t,” I said. “Why does your master want to see me?”
“That is not for me to say.”
I grunted. “Fine.” Stepped out of the room. Locked it and turned to face him. “Let’s go.”
***
They must have heard I’d come in on foot, because they’d brought a third horse for me. How considerate.
While we traveled, I studied the two men and noticed they looked just as exhausted as everybody else in town.
When I asked about it, Harvan shifted in his saddle.
“That is not for me to say,” he muttered, echoing his earlier words.
Didn’t this man have a soul? A conscience? Thoughts of his own? I chose not to press the matter, but I was annoyed.
They took me to a manor just outside Edammedd. It looked just like every other manor I’d ever visited—big, lush, extravagant, obnoxious.
We parted ways with the healer before Harvan guided me upstairs, down a couple of hallways, and into the foyer.
A gray-haired man sat in a comfortable-looking chair, smoking a pipe. He considered me thoughtfully when I entered the room.
I bowed, because it was the polite thing to do.
He stood and walked closer, still inspecting me.
“You look younger than I expected,” he said.
“I get that a lot.”
“And your hair—”
“It’s red, yes. Unusual, I know.”
“Not that it matters, I suppose.”
How merciful. I already liked the guy.
He made his way back to his chair. Motioned distractedly toward another one nearby. I sat after he did.
“You do not seem as badly wounded as I was led to believe.”
“That’s the problem with spies. Never know how much you can trust them.”
He pulled out his pipe and tapped it against his armrest. Hmmed.
“I’ve heard you help people. Is this true?”
This guy really liked his rumors.
“Perhaps. What is this about?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed how tired people are around here.”
I looked at the bags under his eyes. Nodded.
“You can’t sleep here,” he said. “Nobody can. Not anymore.”
Remembering the innkeeper’s words, I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“There is a young woman who comes out at night and... she...” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “She wails. Constantly. Never stops until dawn. She’s been at it for weeks.”
I had not expected that.
“A howler?”
“Aye. And she has quite a powerful voice, too. We can even hear her from here.”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
“She ignores anyone who approaches her.” He shifted in his seat. “A few have tried to, uhm, touch her. To remove her. Their hands go right through.”
“I see.”
“Is this something you could help with?”
I could hear the hope in his voice, and it broke my heart. Because there was little I could do about something like this, and I had no idea how to explain it to him. So I said the only sensible thing I could say.
“Yes.”
I’d just wing it. No problem.
***
In truth, I am not as rash as I may sound. While I’d never dealt with a howler, I had some experience with spirits and ghosts—which are essentially the same thing. What distinguishes them is merely a matter of obsession. That is to say, they are bound to our world by different impulses.
A spirit longs for the physical, for what it once had but now is lost. A ghost is driven by a task; one it left incomplete at the time of its death. A howler, then, mourns for the injustice flung upon a loved one or upon itself.
To set such creatures free, one needed only pinpoint the exact source of their discomfort. Spirits, of course, are trickier, as you cannot give them what they crave, but thankfully that was not what we were dealing with here.
All I had to do was determine why the howler was howling. Bring her justice, and she would leave.
See? Not so hard.
Except I quickly ran into a snag. Nobody knew who she was.
That was unusual, as such ethereal beings tend to be manifestations of local individuals.
“Have any strangers come to Edammedd shortly before this apparition started wailing?” I asked Thamian.
“Not that I know of, but you would have to ask in town to be sure.”
Which is what I did next.
There was no point in troubling my host with such trivial questions. Though he could hear the howling from his manor, he lived too far to have any of the answers I sought.
Harvan offered to take me back into town, but I preferred to port to my room at the inn. It would be quicker, and I had a good enough picture of the place in my mind.
I went down to the main hall. The owner was startled to see me walk down the stairs after he had seen me leave but not return.
When I asked him about strangers, he shook his head.
“This is the only inn in town,” he said, “and you’re my first customer in months.”
“How do you stay in business?”
He gave me a tired grin.
“Locals like to drink.”
Don’t they always?
“Speaking of which, pour me a mug of cider.”
He did so as I pondered.
“Any cases of folks disappearing?”
“This is a quiet town, stranger. Nothing happens here.” He placed the mug in front of me. Frowned. “Well, nothing happened until that gal started weeping through the nights.”
If it wasn’t a local, it had to be a stranger. Either the memory of her had been erased, or she’d snuck into town and managed to stay out of people’s way.
I raised a veil between two swigs. Looking through it, I saw no trace of a spell on the innkeeper.
Had to be a drifter, then.
Which would make my work harder.
But hey, I’ve always loved a challenge.
***
My only option now was to confront the howler.
So when I finished my drink, I went up to my room and slept until nightfall. Better get my rest now, as I expected to stay up all night.
The wailing woke me.
It was a piercing and woeful howl.
I hurried down the stairs and into the empty street.
Glancing around, I only saw dark windows. Though behind some of those panes, sleepless silhouettes paced.
Following the sound, I found her.
The forlorn figure stood at the entrance of Edammedd.
She wore tattered rags, and her hollowed eyes observed me even as she cried out in anguish.
I was so near now that her shrieking stabbed at my soul. I could feel her pain and the depth of her sorrow. She longed for a wrong to be righted, though I could not perceive what that wrong was.
As I came even closer, I read the frustration in her eyes.
She wailed, sending shivers down my spine, and pointed at the decrepit house behind her.
Was this where she had hidden from the villagers?
It looked abandoned.
I went in.
Studied each room, one after the other.
Everything there was broken, dusty, rusted. There were cobwebs and moisture; cracked walls and collapsed ceilings; dangling chandeliers and torn curtains. What little furniture remained was stained and chipped, when not shattered beyond repair.
There was one exception.
An alcove in the cellar.
Inside the alcove was a book.
The book was wide open.
A young woman’s rotting body lay on the ground before it.
I cringed at the sight and brought up my veil to study the patterns.
The spells around the corpse explained why its stench had not spread beyond this room. But what concerned me more were the complex sigils cast upon the pages. They dripped with malice and decay.
This was the source of the curse.
***
I watched as the symbols danced in the air, invisible to the naked eye. To turn a page would send them swirling and likely trigger something nasty. Luckily, I did not need to do that, as whatever had affected the woman would be on the exposed pages.
Leaning, I took a peek at the writing, still holding the veil up. It filtered everything I saw, highlighting the slightest traces of magic.
And there was plenty.
This book was a trap meant to rip readers apart. For what purpose, I could not say. I’d heard of such things, however. Designed by cunning demons to either enslave, feed, or simply destroy.
What baffled me was how it could have been here and not been found sooner. Unless it had been placed recently. There was no dust in this room, I noticed.
I looked around with my veil and spotted a glowing pentacle in a corner. A portal.
“Damn,” I muttered.
Chances were, if I destroyed the book—as I was inclined to do—it would set off an alarm and some vile thing would come through that gate.
At least, it wouldn’t have the element of surprise.
I set my shield up, took a deep breath, and held out my hands.
Slowly, I began to unravel the spells, one foul thread at a time. The pattern shifted. Grew unstable. Brittle. When I felt it about to collapse, I pulled away, drew my sword, and swung to face the portal.
I waited.
Not long.
Several things happened simultaneously.
A snap from behind told me the unraveling was complete.
The wailing outside stopped.
Sweat dripped down my arms as the air grew heavy.
Inside the pentacle, a form took shape—hideous and large.
It stepped out of the glow and became all too real.
A mass of red muscles, twice my height, with four horns, a tail thick as my arm, and claws I suspected sharp enough to slice through bone. The black pits it used for eyes turned toward the book, then landed on me.
“Why?”
Its voice was deep as a chasm and rough as rock.
“Funny,” I muttered. “I was about to ask the same question.”
The creature just stood there, staring at me, and I wondered if it had recognized my sword—Firnenth has an appetite for demons, so it has something of a reputation among them.
“I know you,” it said after a moment.
“Doubt we hang around the same places.”
“They call you Reikk.”
Why did everyone keep saying that? Isn’t it obvious that you’d call someone by their name?
I kept my sword aimed at its heart—or, rather, at where I assumed its heart was. You never can be sure with these sneaky bastards. Heard some even have the power to reconfigure their internal organs at will. Imagine that.
My main concern, though, was...
“Why have you not attacked me?” I asked.
Demons don’t typically take the time to chat. They prefer to tear limbs off and munch on bones. Not very polite, if you ask me.
This one, though, was being uncharacteristically polite—relatively speaking.
It bared its fangs in what I assumed to be its version of a smile.
“I have a proposal,” it said.
Oh, this was going to be good.
“Not interested.”
“Undo what you did and I shall release the girl.”
This was one of the cunning ones. Smart enough at least to figure out why I’d broken his precious book.
“So you can ensnare someone else and feed on their flesh? I don’t think so.”
It growled, scraping the floor with its claws.
“She would not cry so much, had I wished to feed.”
The demon had a point. Nor was it about enslavement, or it’d have taken its victim away.
“What is it about, then?” I asked.
I used my left hand to wipe sweat from my face, still gripping my sword firmly with the other.
The creature’s grin widened.
“Justice,” it said.
***
I laughed.
It was a preposterous notion.
A demon wanted justice?
For what?
Choking on a bone?
“I think I’d rather kill you,” I said.
“No, you would not.”
It wasn’t wrong.
I mean, I don’t like demons, but I’d rather avoid a fight if I can. Especially one that was bound to drag for a while and get me bruised up again after I’d just finished healing from that dragon.
“The people of this town,” it continued, “have bound my kind for generations. They tormented my ancestors, forced them to do their bidding. Today, still, they hold my brethren.”
If true, that was alarming. Why would such a small village need demons?
“What kind of bidding?”
“Who do you think built these houses? Or that lordling’s manor? But that is nothing. We are used to such bindings. Once the deed is done, it breaks, and we are released. But not here.” The creature’s nostrils flared. “These monsters feed upon us.”
Startled by the claim, I lowered my blade and blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“They drink our blood and consume our flesh. They believe this will grant them great powers. Perhaps even immortality.”
That was the craziest, most twisted, and disgusting thing I’d ever heard.
“But it won’t.”
“No,” it agreed. “It won’t.”
If there’s one thing I hate more than a demon, it’s a delusional wizard who thinks he can make himself greater by abusing his powers.
“What you want is not justice,” I remarked. “It’s revenge. I don’t do revenge. Not for the likes of your kind, anyway.”
“I do not want them dead—that would be revenge. I want them punished.”
That gave me pause.
“And the girl?” I asked. “How does she fit in?”
“She tormented them as they torment us. But it is not enough. They need to be stopped.”
I hated to admit it, but I agreed with the demon.
***
The wailing woman was waiting for me outside the house.
She wailed no more, but she was still dead. There was no changing that, sadly.
A spirit. That was all she was now.
“You saved me,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Her voice was hoarse from so much screaming.
Odd how little things like that could follow you into death.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” I said.
She drifted toward me. Hovered, blinking with once lovely eyes.
“Are you a god?”
The notion was so preposterous that I laughed. “There are some who might take offense at that.”
“Gods, you mean?”
I nodded.
“What are you, then?”
It was a fair question. One I’d often asked myself. There was not much I remembered of my past—who I was, where I came from... Only fragments of images, of conversations.
All I knew was that I did not belong here. Nor in any of the other worlds I had visited.
And that I was not a god—notwithstanding my immortality.
“Only a man,” I muttered. “A sorcerer.”
She circled me, and I sensed that she was searching for words.
“What should I do now?” she asked.
That was a tricky question. One I had no simple answer to.
“You are a spirit now. Meaning you yearn for what you have lost. Your life. Your hopes. Your body.”
“Yes.” There was such sadness in her voice. “My body. If only I could—”
“You cannot. It is gone. Beyond salvation. You must accept this if you want to move on. If you do not, you will remain forever bound to this form and to this world. Most will not see you. Those who do will either be frightened or want to use you.” I shook my head. “It is a miserable way to live.”
“This is life, then?”
“It is. Not the same as what you had before, but yes.”
“And if I... accept my loss... what will happen?”
I hesitated. Looked away.
“The possibilities are endless. You will not experience what anyone else has experienced.”
“It will be unique?”
“Yes.”
She seemed to find some solace in that.
“Then I must explore my options. Look at the future and forget the past.”
“No. Let go, but do not forget. The past made you who you are.”
She smiled.
“Thank you.”
Her shape began to fade, and I watched until she was gone.
It was only then that I realized I’d never asked her name.
***
According to the demon, the captives were held at the manor. So I borrowed a horse from the innkeeper—who was only too happy to help after having had his first good night’s sleep in weeks—and headed out.
They held ceremonies there, the creature had confided. It admitted that not every villager was involved, though it had wanted them all punished at first. I’d agreed to help, but on my terms. I’d identify the guilty parties, and they’d be brought to justice.
I had a good idea of who the ringleader might be. The question was, how does one condemn the most powerful person in town? With enough evidence, perhaps I could turn the villagers against him. But that was assuming there were more decent than corrupted ones.
The demon had suggested sending them all through the portal, into its realm. But I knew all too well how its kin would treat the accused, and even monsters such as these did not deserve such cruelty.
Thamian would have many men to protect him; I would have to be careful. I could not let him know I was on to him. My goal was to go in, find proof, then go back to the village to expose his actions.
I’d waited until the next night to go. For two reasons.
First, it gave me time to prepare a few spells. Second, I hoped His Lordship would feel inclined to offer lodging.
If not, I’d sneak my way back in, but it’d be easier if he did.
There were armed men everywhere. I’d seen them the first time, but I hadn’t paid as much attention as I did now. I needed to know what I was up against, and it didn’t look good.
Of course, if things went according to plan, it wouldn’t be an issue... But how often do things go according to plan?
I frowned as I jumped off the horse and glanced around.
“Lord Thamian has been expecting you,” said a voice from behind.
When I turned, I saw a young woman smiling at me. The freckles on her face charmingly highlighted her green eyes.
“Follow me,” she said.
I did so, and she took me down the same halls I’d walked the previous day.
This time, I tried to memorize all the turns we took. Thankfully, there weren’t too many.
She stopped at a door, stepped aside, and bowed her head as she gestured toward it.
“Please. Our master awaits you.”
I stepped in and found Thamian sitting at a table, talking with Harvan and two other men.
They turned when they heard me enter.
“Ah! Our hero has arrived!”
Thamian grinned and clapped his hands.
A servant walked in and bowed.
“A mug of cider for our friend.” He paused, quirking a brow. “That is your drink of preference, yes?”
I made a mental note.
“It is what I’ve been drinking at the inn.”
“Splendid!” He motioned to the servant, and she scurried away. Another gesture, this time toward a chair across from him. “Come. Sit with us. So we can properly thank you for your service. Though I must say, I am surprised you did not come sooner.”
“Apologies, but I had to make sure the howler did not return tonight.”
“And?”
“She did not.”
“Wonderful! You must tell us how you achieved this miracle!”
I pulled the chair from under the table and sat before I responded.
“The woman was only passing through. I suspect she had not enough coins for a room at the inn, so she sneaked into an abandoned house—”
Harvan grunted. “I knew we should have torn that place down.”
“We cannot do that,” Thamian said thoughtfully. “It has too much history. But please, Reikk, do go on.”
“Inside the house, she found a cursed book. Unfortunately, she was foolhardy enough to read it. The curse took hold of her. Her body died, but her spirit did not.”
“How tragic!”
I could not tell whether the man was sincere or not. But what troubled me more were his next words.
“Do you know how the book got there?”
Telling the truth was not an option. Any mention of a demon could tip him off. It would be safer to feign ignorance.
“Sadly, I do not.”
Thamian made a dismissive gesture.
“The curse is lifted now. That is all that matters.” He brightened. “We must celebrate! Tonight, you shall feast with us.”
The word made me cringe as I pictured these men feeding on demon flesh, but I did not show it.
“I thank you for the offer, Your Lordship, but it is already late. I should head back to—”
“Nonsense! You shall sleep here this night. It is the least I can do to repay you!”
He clapped his hands again.
“I would not want to impose...”
Another servant appeared.
“Do not make me beg!” he cried out as she approached. “That would not be fitting for one of my station.”
I smiled. “Very well. I accept. If only to spare you such indignity.”
He turned to the woman and instructed her to prepare a room for me.
“Then I am doubly in your debt,” he said after she’d hurried out. “And tomorrow, you will leave with pouches of gold.”
“Your Lordship is too kind, but I seek no reward.”
“I am aware of your reputation. Still, I insist. You deserve compensation for your trouble.”
“Again, you see me forced to accept your generosity.”
He chuckled at my words just as the first servant returned with my cider.
We drank and exchanged pleasantries until the food was ready.
I decided to play along.
So far, everything was going the way I’d hoped...
Which only made me more nervous.
***
I must admit I was impressed. By both the size and quality of the banquet—for that was what it was. You’d think they had invited the entire village. The dinner hall was crowded and boisterous. As for the food, it was some of the best I’d ever eaten.
But nothing unusual happened. I’d remained on my guard, though I did not expect them to act inappropriately—what purpose would that have served? They expected me to leave soon; it’d be much easier to wait until I was gone to fall back into their depraved ways.
When the feast was over, I went to my room and waited.
I waited until the manor went quiet.
I waited until all I could hear was the beating of my heart.
Only then did I slip out of my bed and into the empty halls.
Of all the spells I’d prepared, two went up instantly. The first would silence any sound I made—it was like a bubble wrapped around me. And around that I wove the second: a shield that would protect me from any magical attacks. It would be useless against physical weapons, but I figured I could handle those with Firnenth.
I brought up my veil so I could spot any traces of magic.
Since none of these things were visible to the naked eye, I walked with a relaxed posture, just in case I met anyone, though I kept one hand on the pommel of my sword. I even had an excuse ready.
“Oh, I’m sorry to have startled you, my good sir. I couldn’t sleep, and walking always appeases me. I hope you don’t mind?”
I went down the stairs.
According to the demon, they held the captives underground.
If you’re wondering how it could have known so much, I wondered the same. When I asked, it explained that it was mentally connected to its siblings. They could not communicate, but it could sense their approximate location.
So down I went.
Could it have lied to me?
Well, it was a demon, so yes. Demons are known to do such things—and worse.
But it had also occurred to me that it could easily have ripped my head off and fed on my entrails. Okay, maybe not so easily, but it didn’t know that. Making this whole thing up wouldn’t have made much sense. For what purpose?
It might not have told me everything, but I suspected most of its story was true.
So down and down I went.
Further down until down I could go no more.
I stood before a large, thick, wooden door.
There were more stairs behind, I could sense it. But it was locked—and not just with a key. There was a magic lock here as well.
I stared at it for a moment—as if my gaze alone could unravel the spell.
Ridiculous, I know.
I needed to get through. The question was, how could I do so without setting off any alarms? That’s the thing with magical locks. They’re not just meant to keep people out.
Of course, getting out of there would be easy, as I had a clear enough picture in my mind of my room that I could port to it instantly. But I’d never seen what was on the other side of that door, so there was no way I could just... you know.
My gaze could not unravel this thing, granted, but it could memorize every little detail. Each spell has a signature—a texture, an identity. It is unique. If the same spell were to be cast by another wizard, its signature would be different.
In theory, if you could manipulate magic at its source—say, in the form of strands, and twist those around until you matched that exact signature, well...
I held out my right hand and Gestured.
The trick wasn’t to cast the same spell, that would never work—not to mention, it would defeat the purpose, as it would add a second lock to the door. No. What I needed to do was to reproduce the texture but give it a different shape. The tricky part was completing it at the exact same time as I dispelled the lock. This way, the new would replace the old. Because it had the same signature, the alarm would not trigger. Because it had a different shape, the door would be unlocked.
Simple.
In theory.
I’d never done this before.
I wasn’t sure this was the best time to experiment, but I needed to get through, and that was the only way I could think of.
My left hand began to unweave the threads.
Slowly.
Methodically.
Each piece I removed needed an equivalent that matched its signature, or the whole thing would collapse.
I could feel sweat dripping down my cheeks.
The pattern shifted, little by little.
Lines glimmered and swirled. Colors brightened and faded.
I heard a sound.
Footsteps.
Damn it! Not now.
I couldn’t hurry this.
And yet, I had to hurry.
So focused was I that I couldn’t tell whether the sound came from behind me or from beyond the door.
Was it getting closer?
I didn’t dare listen more carefully.
The slightest twitch... any misalignment could have catastrophic consequences.
Like, I don’t know, shattering the very foundations of the manor and sending the entire structure tumbling down like a house of cards.
Okay, maybe I’m overdoing it a little.
But not by much.
I paused when I realized I’d moved one strand too quickly. A few more seconds and it’d have been gone before its dupe was ready. With a strained motion, I completed the shape, then pulled one out as I shoved the other in.
A few more strokes, and I’d be done.
Voices, now. Close.
I badly wanted to scratch my neck.
Or draw my sword.
But both my hands were busy rewriting my fate.
Three more...
Laughter.
Two...
Footsteps again. Much closer now.
One...
“—her father. But I’m telling you, it was totally worth it.”
Soon as the weave was done, I drew my sword and slipped into a dark corner.
Two soldiers walked out of the tunnel. Went past me and the door.
“One day you’re gonna get caught and hanged.”
“Ain’t born the one who can outrun me!”
They laughed as they disappeared into the opposite tunnel.
I waited, my heart beating fast.
Once the sound of their voices and footsteps had faded, I went back to the door and considered my work. Smiled.
“Perfect,” I muttered.
I reached out and opened it.
***
More stairs, as I suspected.
An eerie red light glowed below.
And I could hear something, too.
Like a screech.
And scratching.
As I made my way down, still holding my sword, a gut-wrenching whine rose.
Followed by laughter.
A stench assailed me—putrid and rank.
The air was damp, the ground sticky.
I glanced down.
Green viscous puddles stained the stone steps.
Steeling myself, I continued my descent.
***
The stairs ended in a circular room.
I stayed in the shadows, slipping along the walls, as I watched the four men playing cards.
Across from me, four barred doors.
Inside, large red shapes moved.
The green slime was everywhere here—on the floor, the walls, the doors...
One of those doors swung open, and a man stepped out of the cell.
A man I’d seen before.
Harvan.
With a wicked grin on his face.
He wiped green goo from his lips as he marched to the table.
“That one’s ready. Drag it up.”
The soldiers grimaced.
“We really shouldn’t be doing this out there. Someone could see us.”
“Thamian might see us,” added another.
Harvan snorted.
“That fool won’t see nothing. Has he ever woken during a ritual?”
“Don’t mean it can’t happen,” muttered a third man.
“Spell’s too powerful. Now stop arguing and do as you’re told.”
They stood, though the first one still grumbled.
“Could at least have waited until that stranger was gone.”
Harvan slapped him on the back of the head.
“The ritual can’t wait! You should know this by now.”
Rubbing his skull, the soldier went with his colleagues to the open cell. They disappeared within.
My gaze returned to Harvan.
He’d reached for a mug and now poured wine into it.
I could have killed him right there and then.
Probably could have taken out the soldiers, too. Only four of them, after all.
But that would not have been justice.
***
I waited.
The four men came out, dragging a battered and disfigured demon. Pieces of flesh dangled, exposing bone. Green slime oozed from gaping wounds.
I felt sick to my stomach.
My grip tightened on my sword.
This was all the evidence I needed.
What would I do with it?
I’d thought of talking to the villagers. But setting them against their lord would not lead to justice. A lynching, perhaps. Assuming the vile ones did not outnumber the decent ones.
But if I’d heard right, Thamian was innocent.
Then perhaps he was the one who needed to mete out the punishment.
I’d wait until they’d gone up. Once the coast was clear, I’d go break the spell that kept the lord asleep. And he’d see what his people were doing with his own eyes.
“Well, well, well... Look who’s here.”
My head snapped up.
Harvan was staring straight at me.
***
He could not have heard me, but perhaps he’d caught a glimpse of movement.
Unfortunate.
I stepped forward and held out my sword. With a Gesture, I removed the sound-dampening spell.
“Whatever you’re doing here stops now.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“You think that pitiful sword of yours frightens me?” He sighed. “You should have stayed in your room, Reikk. You should have slept. In the morning, you’d have exchanged more pleasantries with Thamian and you would have been on your way, blissfully ignorant. Instead, you had to put your nose where it did not belong.”
The soldiers had frozen in their steps. They stared at me, confused, trying to decide whether to drop their victim and face me, or to keep going.
“Speaking of noses,” I said, “I don’t like yours. I think I’ll break it. Just give me a minute, will you? Got something to... Ah, yes. There it is.”
He stared at me as my fingers danced in the air, forming a complex Gesture. His eyes widened as I punched a dot, giving the texture its shape.
Harvan jumped back, howling.
A pillar of fire erupted in the room. The table and the cards on it went up in flames.
Chaos followed.
The soldiers dropped the demon and leaped away from the fire, drawing their swords.
Harvan began a Gesture of his own.
The demon slammed its fist against the ground.
The ground cracked.
The crack grew—reached the cells.
The cell walls crumbled.
Six massive demons burst out.
And they looked pissed.
Crap.
***
I felt the earth shake, and for a moment I wondered if I hadn’t messed up that spell on the door.
But it was something else.
Not that it made me feel any better.
I needed to get out of this mess before the whole place collapsed.
The demons were ripping the soldiers to pieces.
Harvan had lost his focus, his spell gone awry—perhaps that was the cause.
But I needed him alive.
He was busy trying to stop one of the creatures from devouring a man’s head. So I rushed him.
The sorcerer must have felt me coming, for he swung to face me. But too late.
My fist connected with his face.
Broke his nose.
As promised.
He yelped and slumped to the floor.
I crouched next to him and seized his arm.
A thunderous roar made me look up.
One of the demons was charging us.
Gripping Harvan with one hand and my sword with the other, I ported us out.
***
We landed in the room they’d given me just as a colossal clap shook the manor.
I swore.
Pulled the whining fool to his feet and dragged him behind me.
“Shut up,” I hissed, “or I’ll knock you out and drag you across the floor.”
He tried to throw a spell at me, but my shield was still up.
I punched him in the nose again.
Wizards never see that coming.
Works every damn time.
He staggered, but I held him up. Pulled him behind me until I saw a servant. She looked alarmed—and understandably so, as the ground still shook and distant bangs still rang.
“Where’s Thamian’s room?” I asked.
Her eyes went from me to the bloodied mess I was dragging.
I snapped my fingers to help her focus.
“Thamian! Now!”
She gestured down the hall.
“Third door on the left. But—”
“Get everyone out. Quick! This place could go down any second.”
The woman paled and nodded.
At least she wouldn’t waste time waking people up. The halls were getting crowded with sleepy but confused people.
I pushed through them, running toward Thamian’s room.
That was one man who’d likely sleep through the whole thing because of that stupid spell.
I needed to get him out of here.
The woman’s voice rang over the bangs.
“We need to get out!” she screamed.
Cracks streaked the walls where there had been none before.
The door was closed but unlocked.
I ran inside.
A large chunk of the stone floor collapsed behind me.
“No, no, no...”
There was no time.
I sheathed my sword as I reached the bed, grabbed the sleeping lord’s arm with my now free hand, and ported us to the inn just as the floor gave under my feet.
***
It took me five minutes to lift the sleeping spell. I’d put one on Harvan to shut him up.
I sat with Thamian and told him everything.
He listened quietly, his expression darkening as I finished.
His gaze went to the sleeping Harvan.
“And he did all this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him. But according to that demon, he had this ludicrous notion that it could grant him immortality.”
A glimmer I did not like flickered in the man’s eyes, and then was gone.
“But it could not?”
“No.”
He sighed. Rubbed his face.
“It seems I owe you much more than I thought. I do not know how I could repay you... Especially now that my home is destroyed.”
“Perhaps not entirely. I did not wait to see the extent of the damage.”
He stood.
“Then I should go investigate. Thank you, Reikk. I shall forever remain in your debt. Do not hesitate to call upon me if you ever need my assistance.” He glanced again at Harvan. “I’ll send men to pick this worm up. There will be some justice yet.”
He left.
And so did I—two days later.
After the dust had settled.
Most of the manor still stood, though the basement was gone, buried in rubble. The entire east wing had collapsed. And there were large chunks of walls and floor missing in various parts of the structure.
Thamian vowed to rebuild and to straighten his people.
I briefly contemplated going back to the abandoned house to speak with the demon, but I deemed it unwise. Besides, it likely knew already what had happened from its brethren who had escaped.
The villagers refused to sell me a horse. They gifted me one instead. To thank me for what I’d done.
It was a nice change from the fear and suspicion that usually follow me everywhere I go.
I got on the horse and rode off toward the south.
In the distance, I saw the silhouette of a dragon in the sky.
And hoped we wouldn’t meet.
I’d rather not have another horse eaten from under me...
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Want to read some more of Reikk’s adventures? Check out these stories:
Deathbringer (Reikk meets another mage… and fights a dragon!)
A sorcerer’s son (Our hero searches for a missing man… the son of an evil wizard!)
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Text (c) 2025 by Alex S. Garcia.
Header: royalty-free stock images, edited by me.
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