The Demon's Blade (7 page)

"Does your mother yet live?" Darien asked doubtfully, suspecting he already knew the answer.

"Oh yes!" Jerris replied. "I didn’t mean she was dead. She lives in the castle of Duke Parham. She has been held captive there for many years… all of my life and some before, in fact."

Darien's mood lightened somewhat upon hearing this news. "Well, captive is better than dead. The former may be remedied whereas the latter may not." He leaned back in the chair against the cavern wall between two of the torches. "I don't suppose those ruffians chasing you had anything to do with that?" Darien smiled wryly at the lad.

Jerris nodded, conceding the obvious. "I was attempting to break into the castle to rescue my mother." His voice broke a bit. "I failed miserably and probably made quite the fool of myself in the doing. I was lucky to get away on my first two attempts, but this time my luck ran out."

Darien chuckled. "You must have the best luck of anyone who has ever lived, as technically you've now evaded capture three times." He paused, then continued wistfully, "Good fortune triumphs over superior ability as often as not. The truly skilled leave nothing to chance.”

"So, now that you've brought me here, what exactly do you plan to do with me, and why are you so interested in this 'starstone' as you call it," Jerris asked.

"My interest in the starstone is not your concern. It wouldn’t do you any good to know, and might do you harm. Let it suffice to say that there are some very powerful foes who would kill you without hesitation for that stone.” Darien's voice was somber and cold, and Jerris' already pale face turned even whiter, as he gulped audibly. “As for what I'm going to do with you, I haven't quite decided. That depends upon you. I am not your enemy, and I have no reason to harm you, but I'm not certain I should just leave that stone with you."

“You sure know a lot about this stone. You obviously know some really advanced magic, and you got rid of those four men without even breathing hard. You don’t act too concerned about any of those really powerful enemies taking the stone from you, so who are you anyway?” Jerris asked with a hint of nervous fear in his voice.

“I’m just Darien. I work as a mercenary, guide, tracker, and occasionally, a thief here in Kantu and the surrounding lands. I wander about to find work in the dwarf cities and the small human towns.” The boy didn’t seem at all convinced, obviously this lad was more perceptive than he appeared. Darien could see that the boy wasn’t quite ready to drop the matter, so he frowned somewhat menacingly at the boy, who turned white once again. “Honestly, Jerris, there are things about me that you would be better off not knowing, and this is one.” The boy then nodded quickly, and let the matter drop, so Darien, relieved that he wouldn’t have to resort to anything more severe, moved on. “Why don't you tell me your story from the beginning and I might be better able to answer"

"What exactly do you want to know?"

"Well, start with how your mother ended up captive and go from there."

"Alright, then. But I'm exhausted and would like to get some sleep."

"That is perhaps the most intelligent thing you have yet said," Darien joked. "It is late and sleep would do you good. You may take the cot and I will take the floor. I have a bedroll stowed away and am used to living rough."

In truth, however, Darien had felt little need for sleep since he had taken the Demon Sword and when he did sleep, he was haunted by nightmares, twisted flashbacks of his former life, or horrifying glimpses of terrible futures filled with death and destruction. When awake, he found it far easier to force aside the equally disturbing past and future, so he slept no more than was necessary. Even so, the altercation outside the inn had tired him somewhat, so he decided to try to sleep.

The older half-elf took a simple bedroll from the chest of drawers and laid it near the far wall, while the younger laid down on the burlap sacks that did duty as a mattress on the cot. The shade waved his hand and the torches dimmed and went out. Jerris set his torch on the ground and it too went out, as it left his hand. All was then dark and quiet in the cavern.

Chapter 8: Jerris’ Story

The shades had all trained to be wary even in sleep, so that an enemy could not take them by surprise. That training had served this particular shade quite well for his many years in the service of his Master, and in the time since. So, when he sensed the presence of a hand creeping near his right arm, his instinct took over. He silently drew the iron longsword that he kept at his left side, and leapt upon his assailant. He put his blade to the throat of the attacker, when he suddenly recalled where he was and the events of the day before. He recognized the terrified face of the young man, Jerris, and withdrew the blade. He then waived his hand, and the torches lit up the cave.

The shade sheathed his blade, then stood and extended his hand to his still shocked companion. Jerris, however, was clearly too terrified to make any move. "My apologies, young Jerris," he said. "But I am unaccustomed to company, and I mistook you for an attacker." Jerris seemed to recover slightly, breathing a bit slower and slowly took Darien’s extended hand and allowed the older half-elf to help him gain his feet.              

"Are you mad? You might have killed me!" Jerris said incredulously upon reaching his feet.

"Not at all," the shade replied calmly. "As I said, I mistook you for an attacker, and I would not have killed you even if you were, at least not until I figured out who sent you."

"Well that's comforting,"

"Just why were you creeping about, anyway? You might have simply spoken to wake me."

"I wasn't creeping about!" Jerris said. "It’s dark in here and I can't light those torches, can I? I was trying to find that one you gave me yesterday to see if it would light. I got down on the floor and was looking for it, and the next thing I knew I had a sword at my throat. Why should I expect to be attacked by a sleeping person, however I waken them?"

The confused shade paused for a moment, realizing how he must appear to ordinary people, who had never fought for their lives in battle, or even drawn a sword. "I am truly sorry," He said with more sincerity than before. "When I was younger than you, I learned to defend myself at all times, to attack without hesitation, and only worry about asking questions once the enemy was subdued."

"Even while you’re sleeping?” Jerris exclaimed in disbelief. “How old are you, and where did you learn to defend yourself while you’re asleep? You don’t look that much older than me," Jerris said with a skeptical tone.

"Hmm," Darien wondered aloud. "How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, twenty-five, thirty maybe, or somewhere in between.”

“That’s probably as good a guess as any. To tell the truth, I’m not entirely sure how old I am. I’m not sure that it matters. Age is as much a question of experience as it is a count of seasons, and by that measure, I assure you, I’m old enough. I can’t really answer your other question without telling you more than you need to know.” He frowned at the lad, just to reinforce the point.

“Something I'd be better off not knowing, is it? Well I guess I owe you some trust after you saved me last night. Those men might well have killed me if you hadn't helped me out."

“They were after you because you tried to break into the castle?” Darien asked as he sat down in the chair.

"Yes," Jerris explained, taking his seat on the cot. "I tried to scale the north wall with a rope and grappling hook, but I missed the throw, and someone heard me. I tried to get the rope back, but I had thrown it over a tree branch and it got wedged so I had to leave it. I ran back to town where I had a room rented. I tried to hurry but it was raining so hard. I must have fallen in the mud at least a dozen times."

"Yes, that much was apparent when you walked in the door."

Jerris gave the older half-elf a somewhat cross look, and continued on, "I guess they found me by following the footprints, probably all the way from where I had to leave the rope. Maybe they already knew it was me anyway. I did tell you it was my third attempt to break in."

"You did, and I won't ask you how you failed the other two times."

"Thanks, I guess," Jerris said as he shrugged sheepishly. "I fail at everything it seems. How can I expect to save my mother if I can't even manage to get into the castle? It's hopeless."

Darien noticed that the young man seemed about to cry. Knowing he would get no useful information out of a crying child, he attempted to change the subject. "Just how did your mother end up captive anyway? Did she commit a crime? Is it about the stone?"

"Oh no, nothing like that. They don't know about the stone. Mother managed to keep it a secret from the Duke and everyone else."

"Then what is it?"

"It's…  Well she's…" Jerris stuttered and looked around the room nervously. It seemed to Darien that the young man was once again on the verge of tears.

"He keeps her as his consort?" Darien sighed deeply and shook his head in disgust. Jerris only nodded yes, and began to tear up. Darien struggled for the words to comfort the young man. He felt a sudden trepidation, for this situation was beyond his experience. He had faced countless foes in battle without fear or hesitation, yet was suddenly nervous about having to endure the weeping of this child. Finally, he spoke again, "The practices of those who call themselves nobility are often far less noble than the crimes of those who are called heinous thieves. This practice is regrettably common. Pure-blood elves live for hundreds of years, and their appearance changes little. Those with even small traces of elf blood retain their youthful appearance far longer than ordinary women. As such, they are often highly valued by lecherous noblemen. I have little comfort to offer you, I'm afraid."

The hard-hearted shade expected Jerris to crumble to tears, yet the lad did not. He seemed to stiffen for a moment, and compose himself, as if some hidden reserve of strength had suddenly risen up in him. "I can only tell you what she told me,” He said.

“She was wandering the world when she was abducted by bandits. She was rescued by two brothers. The brothers were the sons of the Duke of Parham, Boras and Halas. Mother was injured during the struggle, and so the two brothers took her back to the castle until she could recover.

“While she was there, the two brothers both fell in love with her. The two brothers quarreled over the matter. Boras wanted only to keep her at the castle for both of them to… share. Halas, however, refused to hold her captive, and wanted to make her his wife. Mother had no love for either of them, and only wanted to get away.

“The two brothers both went to their father, the Duke, to mediate their dispute. The Duke, Baran, I think she called him, would not allow either son to marry an elf, but was willing to allow them to keep her as a slave. Halas thought it dishonorable to use a woman in this way, and said if he could not have her as his wife, he would let her go. Boras, however, tried to convince their father that Halas would bring shame upon the family by running off with this elf woman if she were set free. Halas was furious, and challenged his brother to a trial of combat to settle the matter. He swore a blood oath to his father that if he won, he would set mother free, and not follow her. Duke Baran agreed and decreed they would fight in the castle courtyard.

“When mother found out what was going on, she asked to watch the combat. Halas was smaller and weaker than his brother, and mother was inspired that he would risk his life only to see her set free. She told me that they fought for several hours. Halas was knocked down many times, but each time rose up to fight again. He refused to give up. Both Boras and their father tried to convince Halas to yield, but he would not, saying he would die before seeing a woman dishonored by his family. Boras moved in to kill his brother, but Duke Baran put an end to the combat. He had been moved by his younger son's convictions, and wouldn't allow his son to be slain over the matter. He was satisfied that Halas would honor his word.

“Mother might have left then, but she was so moved by Halas’s sacrifice, that she fell in love, and couldn't bear to leave him. Duke Baran would still not allow them to be married officially, but he allowed mother to stay as Halas's mistress, for however long she wished."

As Jerris finished his story, Darien nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Then Halas was your father?"

"Yes," Jerris replied, "though they were never married, Halas treated her as his wife. My mother said that I was born about five years later, and that she was happy to finally have a family after so many centuries alone." Jerris then paused, perhaps gathering himself before continuing, or perhaps waiting for some response.

Darien did not ask anything further right away. Jerris’ story seemed somewhat unlikely, given what he knew of the current Duke. Even so, it was not entirely implausible. "Did you ever see your father?" He asked.

"No," Jerris answered, "at least not that I can remember. Mother told me I was barely walking when he was killed. My first memories are of living with her in the castle."

"You lived in the castle?" Darien asked, somewhat surprised at this. Why would Boras allow his brother's child to live in the castle after both his brother and father were dead, he wondered?

"Yes, I lived there until a year ago, when I turned seventeen," Jerris answered.

"I see," Darien said, pausing to find the right words to ask his next question without upsetting the boy. "How did your mother manage to convince the Duke to allow you to live in the castle for so many years after your father was killed?" 

"I… I don't know. I never thought about it really. I guess once my father died, my mother made some arrangement with the Duke to allow me to stay," Jerris answered with a puzzled look on his face.

"Perhaps so. How did your father die? Did your mother ever tell you?"

"She told me a horde of goblins invaded from the east, shortly after I was born, and that he fell in battle," Jerris said and hung his head down. 

"Hmm...." Darien doubted that the story was entirely true. There were too many questions for his jaded mind. Why was Jerris allowed to live at the castle, I wonder? Beyond that, I can’t believe that any large band of goblins would venture this far west. All the major clans were, and still are, under the Master's influence, and he would never have allowed them to send a raid this far west for fear of provoking a war with the dwarves, who he reckoned a great power if they were ever united against a common foe. Even if that story were true, why would Boras simply throw Jerris out a year ago? What changed? Darien tried his best not to show his doubts to Jerris, but Jerris proved more perceptive than he at first seemed.

"You don't believe it do you?" Jerris questioned. His voice gave away considerable frustration, but something else as well, a hint of some uncertainty and doubt of his own. 

"I neither believe it nor disbelieve it. I have no doubt that this is what your mother told you, but parents often lie to their children, for many different reasons," Darien replied calmly. He then noticed Jerris looking down. "You have your own doubts too, do you not?"

Jerris immediately turned away, looking downwards and to the left. "My mother wouldn't lie to me. She loves me more than anything."

"I’m sure she does, but love can be a treacherous creature," Darien said. He crossed his arms across his chest, scoffed loudly, and continued. "Lying, cheating, stealing, and worse have all been done in the name of love. I have seen men turn their backs upon friends they have known since childhood over the love of a woman. Wars have begun and ended for the sake of love. Love can twist and distort the truth as easily as a man can bend a blade of grass. You would do well to beware of it, not rely upon it."

Jerris looked strangely at the older half-elf, a look which he had seen often enough. He must think me heartless, to say such things, and perhaps he is right, Darien mused. Nevertheless, I cannot afford to humor the romantic ideals of children. This world is far too cruel, cruel and hard and cold, and it is only those strong enough to endure it who survive. One must be hard as steel and cold as ice. That’s the only reason I’ve lived this long. Several minutes passed with Darien lost in his own thoughts, when finally, Jerris interrupted his silent contemplation. "I don't have any proof, or even any evidence, but I think Duke Parham, Boras, killed my father. I don't know why, but I just can't get it out of my mind. It's something about the way he looks at me, or maybe just a feeling I have in my bones."

"You have good instincts. You should trust them. That explanation makes more sense than a goblin raid two hundred leagues west of their nearest holding. There are certainly other possibilities, but that seems as likely as any." Darien remarked. Jerris raised his head and smiled slightly at this encouragement. "Enough of this discussion for now. I have a little bread here, and a little breakfast is better than none."

They ate a meal of cold stale bread in silence. While they ate, Darien pondered what all this might mean. The starstone, the half-elf child, and this strange story had been a stroke of strange fortune, or perhaps a turn of ill luck. The coin might fall upon either side yet. The thoughtful and careful shade turned the situation over in his mind. In his hands, that stone would be a powerful weapon, not just a pretty trinket. If he used it to magnify his own magic, he would at least stand a far greater chance against the assassins that might be sent after him. On the other hand, he knew very little about the stone, and it could contain any number of unknown dangers. Would it magnify magical energy in the same way that smaller ones did, and would the effects be more difficult to control, he asked himself? Had he not seen it himself, he would have doubted such a large starstone existed anywhere in the world. If the Master knew it existed, he would certainly try to obtain it, whether or not he intended to remake the crystal. The only thing certain was that this witless child could not be left with it or it would probably get him killed.