Demonkin (11 page)

“Very well,” sighed the general. “Get a report of this incident off to Despair immediately.”

* * * *

The common room at the Spoke and Wheel Inn of Calusa was practically empty. The only occupants of the room were three men and a woman, and they occupied the corner table farthest from the entrance. The ages of the three men were varied enough to represent three generations of a single family, but the men appeared as dissimilar to one another as they could possibly be.

The oldest man had long, straggly wisps of pearly white hair surrounding his balding dome. His face was wrinkled and creased with age, and his eyes held a certain vacant look, as if the man’s mind was leagues away.

The youngest man had thick, straight, brown hair down to his shoulders. His face was youthful, and his eyes held the appearance of great intelligence. His skin was smooth, as if it had never required the need for scraping away the growth of hair.

The middle-aged man had fiery red hair that sat atop his head like brambles crowning a hillock, and his beard was just as unruly. His eyes continually burned with anger, and his jaw was set rigidly as he spoke, as if he were tearing each word in half before he uttered it.

The woman was tall and thin, almost too thin for a healthy woman, but her constantly distracted gaze drew attention away from her slight form. She turned her head often as she spoke, setting her long blond hair to swaying as the conversation heated up.

“I heard Smirka was a hidden walled city,” declared Kalmar. “People were reluctant to speak openly about it, but once they were alone, they spoke fearfully of evil and death. I cannot imagine what business we would have in a place like that.”

“It is said that the walls have kept out the Federation army,” offered  Valera, “just as it kept out the Karamin army before it. Outsiders have never been accepted in the village of Smirka.”

“Walls don’t keep armies out,” scowled Theos. “The village is possessed with evil. I heard it has existed for centuries, but no one has ever gone there and returned. I imagine the whole village is inbred with possessed idiots. I see no reason to go within a hundred leagues of Smirka.”

Zynor, who had been staring off into space for the entire discussion, suddenly turned his head and gazed at Theos. “Inbred no doubt,” he said thoughtfully, “but not idiots I think. I seem to remember reading something a long time ago about such a village in this part of the world. While there was no mention of walls, I remember reading with interest about the four pillars of the village.”

“The four pillars?” questioned Kalmar.

Zynor nodded thoughtfully as he tried to remember what he had read ages ago. “The four pillars were markers of the extent of the village. They were erected by a powerful sorcerer as a means of protection for the families within. It was said that no evil could successfully broach the invisible barrier created by the pillars.”

“So the idiot villagers have been effectively caged in for all time?” posed Theos. “That sounds like a useful spell.”

“I believe it was meant in a reverse manner,” frowned Zynor. “I am talking about a time before Karamin existed as a country. Other than the city of Calusa, there was no law and order in this part of the world. I can imagine that raiding villages was a common way to gain supplies and booty.”

“Pillars?” frowned Valera as if someone had just woken her up. “I remember reading something about pillars made of crystal. It was in a book about herbs and spices, and it mentioned something about the ability of crystal pillars to ensure a varied garden without worry of invading pests.”

“What are you talking about?” snarled Theos. “We are talking about evil magic, not gardens.”

“Perhaps not,” interrupted Zynor as his old eyes opened wide. “I do now recall more of the old saga. They were called the Pillars of Crystil, not crystal pillars. It is perhaps a coincidence, but I am not so sure. Every gardener has to worry about invading pests. What if the magic used to exclude vermin was enhanced to keep out larger predators?”

“Do you mean like a magic gone astray?” asked Kalmar. “Wouldn’t the villagers flee from such dark magic?”

“Would they even be aware of it?” shrugged Zynor. “I do not have the answers to your questions. I can only relate what I have read.”

“Such speculation might be novel for conversation,” sighed Kalmar, “but it matters little to us. No one I spoke to has any inkling where the mysterious village of Smirka might be, if it still exists at all. It could be merely a child’s tale for all we know.”

“That is more than likely true,” scowled Theos. “I would not put it past Fakir Aziz to slyly drop the name Smirka in passing to keep our minds occupied during his absence. That way we will not be tempted to discuss his real plans.”

“His real plans?” asked Kalmar. “What do you mean?”

“It would only be natural while Fakir is away that we discuss this foolish journey that we are all on,” explained the Tyronian mage. “Surely Fakir would not want us sharing theories on where he is leading us, so he sets us up with an investigation of some ancient mythical place to keep us occupied. He has something planned for us that we will not approve of. I can feel it in my bones.”

Theos was so full of anger as he talked that he missed the signs of warning coming from his companions. As he finished his tirade, he saw the others looking over his shoulder. The fiery mage from Ur turned meekly and saw Fakir Aziz walking towards the table.

“I think your bones suffer from too much idleness, Theos,” declared Fakir Aziz. “Why don’t you ready our mounts while I get a bite to eat? As soon as I am done, we are leaving Calusa.”

“And where are we going?” Theos asked sharply as he rose to his feet.

“To Smirka,” smiled the Mage. “I am quite sure that I already mentioned that to you.”

“There is no such place,” retorted Theos. “Or if there ever was such a place, it is long gone by now. No village can live in the center of Karamin and escape the armies of the Federation. They would not stand for it.”

“Then it is all well and good that we are not the armies of the Federation,” smiled Fakir as the waiting girl came with a plate of food. “Ready our mounts. I will be only a few moments.”

Theos stormed out of the common room, and Kalmar looked questioningly at Fakir Aziz. “If you are purposely trying to drive him to anger, you are succeeding. Are we truly going to test our magic against the Pillars of Crystil?”

Fakir raised an eyebrow at the words spoken by the Koroccan mage. “I do think that most of you are learning to work together. As for Theos’ rage, only he can control it. The time may soon come when his life depends upon controlling it. I hope he is ready for the challenge.”

Fakir Aziz halted the group in a small clearing and dismounted without speaking a word. He wandered off into the dark, foreboding forest while the other mages settled down for a meal break. For several moments, the group ate in silence, but Theos soon appeared agitated. He rose to his feet and began pacing back and forth.

“Sit and eat,” Zynor said softly and compassionately. “You will ruin your digestion.”

Theos spun and glared at the old mage from Zarocca, his fiery hair illuminated by a stray beam of light that had slipped through the canopy.

“Sit and eat?” echoed Theos. “How can you all be so calm while this madman leads us around the world in search of… I can not even imagine what he is searching for. We have spent a week in this infernal forest, and for what? The mountains of the Barrier loom before us, and we are still no closer to the mythical Smirka than we were when we began. I have a mind to just mount my unicorn and head home.”

“There is nothing holding you here,” shrugged Valera. “The trip will be quieter without you.”

Theos reacted as if he had been slapped. He stared at the thin woman from Vinafor with disbelief.

“You have been fighting this journey every step of the way,” Kalmar said in agreement. “While I have tried my best to befriend you, it would appear that you find this trip very much to your disliking. Perhaps you should return to Ur.”

“Although Ur will offer you no peace of mind,” Zynor said softly. “The turmoil that builds within you is not of your own doing, but neither is it our doing. Why strike out at those who mean you no harm?”

Theos’ eyes clouded with confusion. Up until this point, the other mages had been content to let Theos rage on, but he now saw that they were united against him. It hurt to know that he stood alone. He nodded slowly and turned to retrieve his unicorn. At that moment, Fakir Aziz stepped into the clearing.

“Let the unicorns rest,” he said as he stared at Theos. “We have found Smirka, but I think I should go in alone. The rest of you will wait here until I return.”

“Smirka?” brightened Valera. “It actually exists? Can we see it?”

Fakir Aziz hesitated and then slowly nodded. “There is not much to see from here, but I will show you what we have searched for. Make no loud noises. I do not want to disturb the villagers.”

Fakir Aziz turned and walked out of the clearing. The other mages followed single file until they stood on the edge of a low ridge. Across the valley floor was a small, ancient village. Scores of huts with thatched roofs were clustered inside a small rock wall that encircled the village. Cultivated fields sat outside the wall, and farmers worked the fields by hand. At the four corners of the village, tall stone pillars shot upright, towering over the wall. Two smaller wooden pillars framed a small gate in an archway on the side nearest the mages. This was the only break in the wall.

“It does not look evil and foreboding,” commented Kalmar. “It looks no more sinister than any other poor village.”

“The wall is only the height of a man,” commented Theos. “Surely it could not keep out any army that wished to enter the village. The stories told in Calusa were lies.”

“Perhaps not lies,” commented Zynor. “There was a time when the protection of a village rested in magic. The pillars were the true defense, not the wall. The wall only kept out animals.”

“There is truth in Zynor’s words,” Fakir said softly. “The ancients built the pillars for protection, and they prayed for the gods to bless them with protection. Powerful shamans would also weave in spells of protection to aid the gods.”

“Did it work?” asked Valera.

“Sometimes,” shrugged Fakir Aziz. “The problem with depending upon the spells of a shaman was that eventually the shaman would die. What then would become of your protection?”

“It would become like the protection of the gods,” spat Theos. “It would be worthless.”

Fakir Aziz turned and glared at Theos. “You will remain here until I return. For no reason are you to pass through the gates of Smirka. Is that clear?”

Theos tried to ignore the Mage, but Fakir remained unmoving. Finally, Theos looked up and nodded.

“It will be as you wish, Master,” Theos snapped mockingly.

“Must we all wait outside?” asked Zynor. “I would love the chance to see the village.”

“I think it best for me to go alone,” replied Fakir. “I will try not to be too long, but wait here no matter the time elapsed.”

The other three mages nodded, and Fakir Aziz turned and walked down the hill. Feeling their eyes upon him, the Mage crossed the valley and approached the village. As he got closer, the villagers noticed him. Without alarm or fanfare, each of the farmers casually abandoned his farm implements and walked away from the fields. The farmers filed through the small gate and closed it. Fakir Aziz walked up to the gate and stopped. He peered at the two small pillars and the intricate carvings chiseled into the wood. He recognized some of the symbols and nodded thoughtfully. He stretched out his hand and pushed the gate open. It was not barred.

The Mage stepped through the archway and closed the gate behind him. Scores of eyes peered at him from inside the huts, but the walkways of the village were deserted. Fakir gazed about the village. There were no streets to move along, but rather alleys formed by the close proximity of huts. Fakir looked left and right and shrugged. He chose the left and walked between two huts. He could hear the sounds of people moving about inside the tiny huts, and chickens scratching in nearby cages, but no one ventured outside to greet him or challenge him.

For half an hour, the Mage wandered through the village until he came to a building unlike the others. The building was rectangular, and it was raised a pace off the ground. No farm implements adorned the outside walls of the building, and a short flight of steps sat in the center of one of the long sides. Fakir mounted the steps and stopped in front of a wide doorway. A simple paper sliding door stood open, and the Mage peered at the single room inside the structure. The ceiling was brilliantly painted in vivid colors, but the walls were bare, dark wood. A small, ornate carpet sat at the other side of the room beyond a short desk-like piece of furniture. An unlit candle sat upon the desk. The floor of the room was highly polished, dark wood. The Mage slipped off his boots and placed them on the top step. He stepped into the room.

Once inside the room, Fakir noticed wooden shelves on each side of the doorway. The shelves were loaded with scrolls. He paused to stare at the scrolls and then turned towards the desk. The arrangement of the carpet and the desk in relation to the lone doorway was indicative of a figure of authority holding court. Fakir Aziz approached the desk and sat cross-legged before it on the wooden floor. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.

* * * *

“Stop the pacing!” scowled Valera. “You are driving me crazy.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to notice anything outside your book,” Theos snapped. “Do none of you even care about Fakir Aziz?”

“We care about him,” Zynor said softly as he turned from the unicorn he was brushing. “He said to wait here for him. That is what we are doing.”

“He said that three days ago,” scowled Theos. “The farmers were back to tending their fields before the sun set on the day he left us. They obviously are no longer afraid of him. He is probably long dead by now.”

“If he is dead,” mused Kalmar, “then he will not be returning to us. Still, it will not hurt us to wait a while longer.”