Posted by Meg
A story from Charlie.
Hey Peat,
I’m Charlie. Absolutely love your books, and cannot waiittt for The Daylight War. Keep up the good work. Anyway, hope this gets in on time. If not, I had fun writing it anyway. This is the Sound Demon, AKA The Howler. I’ve also drawn up a ward for this (though I’m a terrible artist, hence the fanfic rather than art) that I’ll send in when I get the time.
The Hoarder
“Thank The Creator,” the Mountain Guide sighed in relief.
He and the Warder, whom he was escorting, had finally reached the summit. Through torrential rain and gale-force winds, they had climbed on, much to the reluctance of the Guide. Many a time, he had strongly advised turning back. But the Warder’s mind was set; he was intent on seeing the cave for himself, or rather, seeing if there was in fact a cave to see.
It was very possible it was merely a tool in a Jongleur’s tale. Though when the Warder heard talk of riches to be found, his curiosity was spiked.
“Well, you’ve proven yourself worth the price you ask.” The Warder noted loudly.
“And you’ve proven yourself as crazy as the people say.” The Guide shouted over the pounding of rain against rock.
The Warder grinned. “I prefer ambitious.”
They spotted the cave easily, an enormous mouth opened up into an eerie dark. The guide thought it reminiscent of a giant snake, jaw wide to engulf its prey.
Were they the prey this time? Only The Creator could know what skulked inside. But his knowledge of mountains checked him. There wasn’t much that could survive in the conditions present for long.
Only the worst creatures of all. He thought with a shiver.
They darted for it nonetheless, but not before something carved into the rocky exterior caught the Guide’s eye. He did not draw attention to it, having heard stories of the man he was traveling with from folk in the village.
The shelter was a welcome comfort given their three days in thin tents, barely capable of keeping the warmth their bodies produced inside the cloth.
“Would you look at that?” The Guide gasped, pointing at the ground.
There was no dirt there, but a great stone floor, clearly manmade, stretching further than the light extended in. The cave was huge.
“It’s called crete. Used in Miln that is, the city I come from.” The warder said. “Not cheap stuff mind; some rich lord must have used this cave once. Creator knows what for”
“What d’you suppose happened to them?” The guide wondered.
“That much is obvious.” The Warder replied, tapping his foot at deep grooves in the stone. “Demon claws.”
Fear struck the guide’s face. “You be sure to check your wards thrice over before nightfall Warder.”
“Will do. Didn’t spend three days climbing this damned mountain only to get cored,” he said
*
The two quickly made a fire and sat for a time, basking in the warmth it exuded. They never spoke. It was rare they did besides a few words here and there, for the two never really knew each other. Their meet was purely business, and the warder was private. Or just very mysterious.
“You know, you never did tell me your name,” the guide said, breaking the quiet that plagued the duo.
“Nor will I,” the Warder stated bluntly. “My name is of no matter to you.”
“So long as I get paid. Not often I get business from someone as shadowy as you”
The warder scowled. “You’ll get your money.”
The guide looked at him a moment, thinking his next words over carefully.
“The Jongleurs that pass through here-”
“What about them?” The Warder cut in.
“They say you’re no Warder, that you’re a ward hoarder. Hoarder’s the name they’ve planted on you in their songs.” He was afraid his curiosity might offend the man, but it got the better of him anyway.
The man shrugged, not even raising his gaze from the embers. “I can ward as good as any other. No demon has yet broken through my defences. That makes me a Warder. To the Core with your Jongleurs.”
“It’s said you scour the lands for wards, but refuse to share them.”
The warder looked up finally, eyes burning into his guide’s.
“Do you have any idea how much gold a lost ward can fetch?” He asked, annoyance easily distinguishable in his tone. “If I am lucky enough to come across one, I will sell it to the highest bidder. If they choose not to share that ward, it makes no matter to me.”
“Just how much gold are we talking?”
“More than you’ll see in your life. Every warder in Miln kept their wards close to the chest ‘til a few years ago. Then some guy called Cob started trading them, and now most everyone is jumping on the bandwagon.”
“Maybe that’s what’s best for everyone.” The guide said.
“Not me.” The warder replied.
The silence returned then, and the Guide had no intention of being part of it.
“I’m gonna stretch my legs a bit,” the Guide announced, though his intentions were more than that.
He stepped back out into the pouring rain and quickly made his way to what had caught his attention earlier. There, engraved into the cave’s mouth, were wards. Most he recognized – rock, wood, snow – but then he spotted a fourth. He was no Warder, but he could tell immediately it was different. This was for no common demon encountered in the village. This was in a league all of its own.
He picked up a small pebble and, using the knife hanging on his belt, etched its design onto it. He would not allow this hoarder to hide another potentially life-saving ward from mankind, just for a quick profit.
The Hoarder came out with his warding equipment just as The Guide slipped the pebble into his trouser pocket, and pretended to be admiring the view from the mountain top.
They didn’t speak, but The Guide watched as the Hoarder went about his business, taking pleasure in the fact that he had noticed the ward first, because as expected, the Hoarder made note of it in a pad he drew from his satchel, and then quickly, looking back to be sure his escort wasn’t watching, chiselled it from the mouth, preventing any other from copying it.
“What you got there?” the Guide asked of the notepad, cursing his stupidity as he did.
The Hoarder whirled on The Guide with blinding speed.
“Why so interested!?” He demanded.
The Guide stuttered. “No, no reason. Just wondered is all.”
“Did you see the ward engraved over there?” He asked, his stance letting The Guide know he was in trouble.
“You found wards?” The guide tried to sound surprised, but failed, his sudden fear overtaking his thoughts.
Without another word, the spear hung across the Hoarder’s back found its way into his hands. And faster than the Guide could have possibly moved, he was struck hard with its butt.
Blackness.
“I’m sorry Mountain Guide, but gold trumps honor,” the Hoarder muttered to the unconscious body, muddied and drenched in the dirt.
He went back to warding the cave mouth. A lot of the work had been done for him; he just needed to touch up and repair sections here and there. Lucky really, since the sun had already begun to set.
*
He retreated to the fire and the protection of the cave as the last hints of light drifted from the darkened sky.
He felt no remorse as he watched his escort lay motionless in the dark, instead turning his attention to the new ward drawn delicately in his notepad. He figured the demon this ward defended against hadn’t risen from the Core since the Return.
May never return.
But that wouldn’t stop the collectors fighting over it, using their gold as weaponry. The thought thrilled him. He’d be rich.
He tucked it safely away in his warding satchel, and looked back out to his Guide. It was then he realised the demons hadn’t risen. But that wasn’t too unusual at a height such as he was at. They chose to materialise further down, where they had more chance of feasting on human flesh, rather than each other’s. But they’d catch the Guide’s scent soon enough. And they’d take care of him, save him the job.
He lay back and closed his eyes, looking forward to the first decent night’s sleep in a few days. It was then the pain came.
Such pain he was sure a dozen demons were clawing at his head. But there were none on him. With tremendous effort, he rolled his body onto his side to face the cave mouth, to look his killers in the eyes and know which variety broke through his wardnet. Yet he saw nothing.
There wasn’t even a demon outside the cave. And it’s impossible for a demon to materialise through crete …That’s when it hit him. The terrifying but now obvious truth.
Whatever breed of demon the new ward was meant for, it wasn’t to keep the demon out of the cave, it was to lock it inside. The cave, given a stone floor by humans. They’d created a prison, for a breed so deadly they’d rather not face it in combat.
He’d seen wards such as these before. One way wards. The Krasians used them to trap sand demons in pits to await the sun.
But that would mean this demon has been trapped here since the last demon war. The Hoarder realised, terrified. I bet it’s angry, and hungry.
There was nothing he could do. He raised his hands to his head and found to his horror his ears had erupted with blood. It was sound. His ears still rung with the bellow of the demon, fast approaching from somewhere deep in the cave, its walls carrying the noise and multiplying its intensity.
How powerful it must be to afflict so much pain from a distance.
He attempted to muster all his will into a crawl, but he could not even do that. The pain too much, the sound overwhelming. Not that he had anywhere to crawl too. His only defence was that which he erased from the cave.
He cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks. It was pain, fear, regret; all rolled into a single emotion and released through his own roar.
And then it was upon him.
*
The guide’s eyes blinked open six or seven times before he sat bolt upright, realizing suddenly he was out in the naked night unprotected. He darted for the cave, deciding he’d deal with the Hoarder when he was inside and safe from corelings.
But as he drew closer, he was repelled from the cave. A noise so powerful it felt like it was cutting through his skull. He could see just inside the cave mouth, a beast of some kind leapt upon the Hoarder and dug its three-clawed hands into his back, pulling him backwards into the firelight.
The guide could see it now, in all its ferocity.
It was humanoid, though from its stance and fighting style, looked as if it would be more comfortable using all fours to move. It was slim, but packed with muscle, appearing to be close to bursting from its frame. It looked like a thin man had recently packed on a tonne of disproportionate muscle.
At first glance, the Guide thought the demon to be sweating by the fire, but soon noticed that it was in fact its natural appearance, its skin covered in a thick slime. It would fling off with every turn the demon made, creating a slimy battleground.
With another tug, the demon dragged the Hoarder further back into the cave to finish him. The Guide wasn’t about to let his chance slip away, and so he ran full speed to the warded mouth. He knew running back down the mountain would only get him so far before the demon caught up. He needed to lock this prisoner back in its cell. While it was occupied.
The noise was still painful to his ears, but he pressed on. He knew his actions in the next minute would decide whether he lived or died. He pulled the pebble from his pocket and began the process of implementing it back into the already established wardnet.
He had but a line to perfect when the roar increased in volume. He turned and saw the demon inches away from its victim’s face, let out a howl so powerful, the Hoarder’s head burst in an explosion of blood. His ears were first, then his nose, eyes, and mouth, all leaking blood like a coreling’s fountain.
When its victim was down, the demon looked up. It locked stares with the Guide, and it was the first time the Guide truly saw it. As he stared into its face he saw no eyes. There was nothing. Just a set of ears, pushed far back into its skull, and a mouth, the predominant feature – nearly taking up its entire face space, with four fangs and two giant piercing teeth in-between them.
It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. It was the definition of evil. It had to stay chained.
He turned back to the ward but the demon let out another howl and charged. As expected, it ran on all fours, pouncing like a dog.
Just like the Hoarder’s, his eardrums burst. Blood erupted from them like lava would a volcano. He clutched at them, but it did nothing to stop the flow.
He would not let this thing loose!
With a last display of willpower, he finished the final line of the ward. And fell to the floor.
The demon leapt at him, smelling its escape after so, so long, but as every other night, the magic of that ward repelled the demon. Its face smashed against the invisible barrier and it was flung back fifteen feet, landing in the flames. They did not affect it of course, but the demon had lost nonetheless.
It would never escape this place. It lost its chance.
The Guide pushed himself to his feet and grinned at the demon in the cave.
“I’ll call you a Sound Demon, or Howler, yeah, Howler’s nice.”
The demon’s huge jaw opened to let out a scream, but nothing got through. The ward stopped its sound-based abilities from getting through too.
“I’m going to find a ward to kill you. And then I’ll be back,” the Guide said, wiping the blood from his ears. “That’s a promise.”
Thanks to Charlie for sending in that gripping story! I love the character of the Hoarder and the trapped Sound Demon. Great job!
Posted on June 3, 2012 at 8:00 am by megelizabeth
Filed under Contests, Create a Coreling, Daylight War, Desert Spear, Fan Art, Fans, Meg, Warded Man
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