Demonsbane

3 REVELATIONS AND SORROW

As Sarnakyle had predicted, they came to the crossroads in the midmorning. A forlorn gibbet stood at the roadside, but not even a rope remained. For a moment, Siggard wondered how many had died at this place, their spirits returning on the Night of Souls to walk the earth in search of their executioners. He suppressed a shudder, and without a word began to stride down the western path.

As they walked, Sarnakyle talked of the wonders of Kehjistan, telling stories of the great temples and cities. He told of the Mage Clans in the east, and the dark magic farther south. It did not remove the horrible feeling from the pit of Siggard's stomach, but it did lighten the mood somewhat.

Much to the soldier's relief, by the time they stopped at sundown the trees had thinned considerably. Siggard breathed a sigh of relief; once he was out of the forest, he never wanted to return.

It only took them a couple of minutes to gather the wood they needed for a fire. Siggard tried to dine on some more of the ration Sarnakyle had given him earlier, but found he was too worried to eat.

"Are you feeling well?" the wizard asked. "You've barely eaten anything these last couple of days."

Siggard shook his head. "How could I be hungry when my family might be in dire danger?"

Sarnakyle nodded. "I understand."

They bedded down for the night, Sarnakyle first setting his wards with an abrupt series of gestures and then taking first watch. Siggard tried to sleep, but his dreams were filled with the screams of the dying and horrible visions of Emilye being tormented. Finally, Sarnakyle woke him up, and Siggard gladly took the watch. The minutes stretched into hours, and Siggard tried to think of anything but the terrors that could be occurring to those he loved.

Finally, the dawn came, and they smothered the last of the fire and began on their way again. The path twisted and turned, but finally the road led them out of the trees into the open fields of Entsteig.

Sarnakyle took a deep breath, wonder overcoming him as he saw the rolling green fields and sparse woodlands, each filled with the many colors of autumn. "What a beautiful country! Its natural beauty puts even the great temples of Viz-jun to shame!"

Siggard nodded grimly. "Let us hope that this ‘beautiful country' is not being overrun by demons."

"Do you know the way to your village?" Sarnakyle asked.

"Once we get to the King's Road I'll be able to get my bearings," Siggard stated. "All roads lead to the King's Road."

With that, they walked westwards until the sun began to set. They camped near a copse of trees; after his experience in the forest, Siggard couldn't call these anything greater than woods. Sarnakyle wanted to make a campfire, but Siggard wouldn't have it; the demons could be anywhere, and the last thing he needed was to attract their attention with a pillar of smoke.

This time Siggard took the first watch, taking a little comfort from being in his homeland once more. He woke Sarnakyle just after midnight, and tried to sleep. Once again, his dreams were troubled, and it was a relief to be roused at the dawn.

By midday they had reached the King's Road, a wide path paved with rough-hewn stone. At the crossroads stood a large wooden sign, inscribed with simple letters.

"We have to go north," Siggard said. "My village is about a day east of Brennor, and Brennor is about three leagues northwards."

Sarnakyle smiled. "To Brennor we go!"

Siggard shook his head. "I almost think you are enjoying this too much."

The wizard shrugged. "What is the point of visiting new places if you can't enjoy yourself?"

"Under any other circumstances, I would agree with you," Siggard said, and began walking. Sarnakyle strode beside him, remarking on the freshness of the air, and comparing it to the stifling cities in Kehjistan.

"Don't get me wrong," Sarnakyle said. "Viz-jun is a beautiful and great city, and you should visit it someday. But there are so many people that the air can be difficult at best. I sometimes think that the ideal place to live is in the country."

The wizard suddenly stopped. "What is that smell?" he remarked, sniffing the air.

Siggard took a deep breath. Indeed, he could detect a bit of smoke, as though some fire close by had been smothered.

"Is there anything nearby?" Sarnakyle asked.

"Just a small village," Siggard replied. "It could be the harvest festival."

Sarnakyle licked his lips. "Now that is something to look forward to!"

As they walked, they found themselves facing a rise in the road, and behind the hill rose a curl of smoke.

"I hope we haven't missed anything!" Sarnakyle exclaimed. "It has been some time since I attended anything remotely like this!"

But when they crested the hill, Siggard's heart sank. The village itself had been fired, and in the town square, surrounded by the husks of burnt-out buildings, lay a pyramid of severed and decaying heads.

An investigation of the village revealed no life whatsoever. When the demons had passed through, they had killed every living soul. As they staggered out of the village, stunned to their very souls, Siggard and Sarnakyle saw the maimed and brutalized bodies of livestock at one of the local farmsteads. Siggard had no doubt the animals had been slaughtered to feed the army and then left to rot; after all, the demonic army would be able to move faster if it lived off the land than if it carried its food with it.

"We should travel through the night," Siggard said, regarding the horrifying pyramid. "With some luck, the demons won't have gotten to my home yet."

"Haste is important, but so is rest," Sarnakyle said. The wizard's playful demeanor was gone, replaced by a solemn determination that surprised Siggard. "The demons will try to cause as much destruction as possible, probably working in a circular pattern. If we travel directly to your village, we should be able to beat them."

"How do you know all this?" Siggard demanded.

"I am a Vizjerei," Sarnakyle stated. "One of the ‘Spirit Clan. I have summoned demons, and I have also fought them. I've seen these tactics used before by Bartuc, the Warlord of Blood."

"Could Bartuc be behind this?" Siggard asked.

"I sincerely hope not," Sarnakyle said. "I helped to kill him. Do you know a direct route from here?"

Siggard nodded. "I think I've been here before. If I'm right, this was Gellan's Pass, and that means that there is a path toward my village to the northeast."

"Damned demons," Sarnakyle cursed. "If only they hadn't killed all of the horses."

They found the path, and had managed three leagues by sundown, stopping for the evening at the side of the road.

That night, although Siggard managed to finish off the ration Sarnakyle had given him days ago, he could not sleep. The fear gnawed at his gut, and with every minute that passed he wished that the dawn would come.

As the sun rose out of the east, they set off again, Siggard walking more anxiously than he had even when Emilye had begun her labor pains. If only she was safe, he could be happy. Then he could take her away from all the madness into a walled town like Brennor, where they would be safe for eternity.

"We have the advantage, you know," Sarnakyle said as they walked. "We only have to move ourselves; whatever demon leads this army has to march thousands across the land.

We can cover double the distance they can."

"It still won't matter if we get there too late," Siggard gritted, marching forward even more quickly. He finally slowed down when Sarnakyle jogged up beside him, puffing in exertion.

That night, Siggard reckoned that they had covered seven or eight leagues, and should be at the village sometime tomorrow. Sarnakyle had actually managed to catch a hare during the walk, and cooked it with a bit of magic. While the wizard ate with relish, Siggard found that he had no appetite at all, and left his share of the animal alone.

"If you won't eat, and you should," Sarnakyle said, licking his fingers, "tell me of your home."

Siggard thought for a moment, and then began to speak. "We own a farm, just outside of the village square. My father brought us to Bear's Hill when I was very young, and we did quite well."

"Bear's Hill?"

"My village," Siggard clarified. "I met Emilye when we were both children, at one of the village dances. She was absolutely radiant, and I, well, I was a rustic farmer. Still, she saw me, and I saw her, and it was love at first sight."

Sarnakyle grinned. "It must have been wonderful." He took another bite out of the rabbit.

Siggard nodded, and for a moment, there was a hint of a smile. "It was. When we got married, I promised her I'd always protect her. Whenever we could, we would go out exploring or picking mushrooms in the countryside, even when she was bearing our child. I tried to make her go gently, but she told me that she was pregnant, not fragile."

"Quite a woman."

"Yes," Siggard said. "The call to arms came only a couple of weeks after my daughter was born. We hadn't even decided on a name. I told her I'd be right back, and we'd choose one then. It's bad luck, you see, to leave a Naming for more than two months."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Sarnakyle stated.

"I hope so," Siggard said. "By all the gods, I hope so."

They left their camp before the dawn, so eager was Siggard to get back to his home. They walked silently, Siggard trying at every step to convince himself they would arrive in time, and would be able to convince the village's Ealdorman to evacuate everybody before the demons came.

As they walked, Siggard touched his sword hilt, praying that the battered blade would serve if there was any trouble. The memories of the battle had become something secondary; all that mattered was getting to Emilye and his daughter in time.

Finally, they passed the engraved marker stone for the village, and Siggard breathed a sigh of relief. There didn't seem to be any damage to the outlying farmsteads, which meant that they had probably made it in time.

Still, there were no people about, which was odd for this time of year. It was the harvest, and at the least the Ealdorman would have had them preparing for the harvest festival. An uneasy feeling began to gnaw at Siggard's gut.

When they entered the town square, Siggard's heart almost stopped. Many of the buildings were burned, and in the center of the square lay a pyramid of severed heads.

Sarnakyle looked around in shock. "Perhaps she made it out in time," he suggested. "She might not have perished here."

Siggard almost grunted an agreement until he saw a glint of golden hair in the pyramid. He told himself that it had to be somebody else, it couldn't possibly be her. But when Siggard stepped forward, he saw Emilye's dead eyes staring at him from the pile, her face a mask of horror, the flies consuming her flesh.

He backed up, unable to speak. Then he fell to the earth, weeping. Everything he had lived for was now gone. Had the demons come at that moment to take his life, he would have had neither the strength nor the inclination to defend himself.