Chapter 8 Rhianelle
The shadow of the tree lengthens as night drops its veil.
The forest is quiet in the twilight save for the sound of the undergrowth snapping from the weight of our Noctrals’ hooves.
Ragnar is praying at the head of our procession.
I hear transcription from various scriptures all over the world, holy and unholy.
I didn’t know that demons were so… devout.
“You’re the Demon Lord’s enforcer and you’re afraid?” Garrett asks, the corner of his lips lifting in amusement.
“I am,” Ragnar admits without shame. “The horrific legend of the forest is widely known even from the time I was human.”
“You were once human?” Aelfric asks with interest.
“A long time ago,” the male answers. “Ragnar is not even my real name. It’s the name of the man who bought my freedom from the slave traders. My real name is—”
He suddenly raises his fist for our envoy to halt in silence.
Garrett gives him a hard stare. “What’s wrong? Are we lost?”
“Worse,” the demon says with a slow shake of his head. “We are found.”
Something is breathing amongst the trees. A predator lurking in the dark. My valiant guard quickly flanks me left and right to protect me from the incoming danger.
I inhale a deep breath to calm my pounding heart. “Werewolves?”
Ragnar sniffs the air and nods. “This area is their hunting ground.”
A white wolf, bigger than a Noctral appears from the trees. Behind it, several more eyes gleam in the dark. They have us surrounded.
Its sharp teeth glint in the soft crystal light as it growls at me.
“Rachel, calm down. These are Kheirall’s guests,” the demon snarls right back.
I freeze over a guttural groan from Rachel’s throat. Ragnar seems to be able to understand her as he nods to every sound she makes. The pack of wolves leaves as quickly as they came.
“We’ve picked the worst night to be out here,” Ragnar says softly, staring at the rising moon.
“Wraiths, werewolves.” I hear Lord Ctibor complain. “Only the gods know what is lurking in these woods.”
“No, they don’t.” The demon shakes his head. “Not even the devil does.”
“You seem overly worried about this,” Rainer suddenly says in suspicion. “What aren’t you telling us?”
There is a heavy look in Ragnar’s eyes. He releases a breath. “An Ashmedai is out loose in this forest.”
One of the Fallen. A vicious form of demon that can level an army of thousands in the blink of an eye.
“I thought Kheirall was supposed to make sure they stayed in the Hollow,” Garrett says.
“Some find their way into the mortal realm called upon by foolish men.” Ragnar shakes his head.
“There is no better place for a summoning than the In Between where the magic is ripe.” Ragnar draws in a long breath.
“The Demon Lord has placed a spell around the forest to keep it from rampaging into the human world.”
That means it’s stuck here with us.
“Now that you know the truth, it’s not too late to head back to the keep.” The demon turns to me, his eyes pleading.
“My scouts inform me the road ahead is even more treacherous. We’ll set camp here,” Rainer decides for the group. He may seem calm, but I know he’s on edge too.
“Fine,” Ragnar says, dismounting from his horse. “We have the pack’s protection for the night. As long as we stay in Rachel’s territory, we’ll be safe.”
The expert Tluryan elves work quickly, setting up camp for our group. One of them tries to kindle a flame.
“No fires,” the demon snarls. “You don’t want to attract attention.”
Tallula stares at the unlit fire in our tent as if it will magically bring her warmth with Grianna’s blessing. The air is filled with the chattering sound of Lenna’s teeth. I place a blanket over her shoulders, hoping it will grant her some comfort.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” she says, huddling closer to Lady Deirdre. I stroke her brown hair gently.
Goosebumps tingle at the back of my neck over the Demon Lord’s parting words. Tonight is the Vlatteran, and the Ashmedai is on the loose. Fear grips me like a python at the very thought.
As I keep my senses alert for any coming danger, a familiar, comforting tune suddenly drifts in the air.
I cast a sidelong glance at my company. None of them show any sign that they heard it.
I try to cover my ears, but the beautiful melody lingers in my head.
It’s so soothing, making me feel like I’m safe, like I’m loved.
I can feel the song caressing me, like a finger running down my spine. A serenade dedicated to me.
I let it guide me out of the tent. The darkness of the forest beckons me to move forward, inviting me like a welcomed guest. It’s insane to be wandering the woods alone in the dark, but my body will not listen.
My heart thunders in my chest, not out of fear but excitement.
I keep walking through the shrubs and the bushes to wherever the music leads me.
I snap from the siren call to find myself standing in front of an abandoned well.
No one else has followed me here. I blink at the peculiar structure that has summoned me.
The rudimentary bricks around it seem aged and worn.
I try to read the glyphs but it’s too faded.
The Un would usually protect me from strange enchantments.
I wonder why they didn’t even bother waking me this time. I pout at my patrons.
Stay, Rhianelle. They tell me. It’s safe here.
An odd sense of security envelopes me as I gaze into the darkness inside the well. The strange music lulls me to jump into the abyss. I shake my head and back away from the temptation.
This place is messing with my head. I quickly make my way back to camp.
The returning trail is easy to tread until a prickle of chill suddenly stabs me.
A haunting presence stalks the ground. I quicken my pace until my calves start to ache.
Fear washes over me at the sudden rustling behind my back.
My hand reaches for the pommel of the fine sword strapped to my waist.
Cedwyn emerges between the trees with a companion beside him.
“It’s you,” I mutter with relief. But the sense of unease still skitters on my skin.
“I found this human wandering the forest,” the young knight heaves.
I lift my head, finally taking in his new friend.
He is dark-haired and pale, dressed in black leather clothing.
I know very little of the mortal world other than the wild stories from Kahedin’s books.
But I do know that humans have a shorter lifespan and are a little fragile.
“Are you lost?” I ask softly in a tongue common to them, careful not to spook him. He shakes his head nervously. Perhaps he is one of Kheirall’s so-called tenants.
“The guy told me his name is Jack,” Cedwyn says with a shrug.
He is lying, the Un whisper to me. Run, Rhianelle.
Just as they whisper, a loud screech cleaves through the night. The sound is nothing like I have ever heard before.
“What was that?” Cedwyn asks.
It’s coming from the camp.
There is no calming my racing heart as I sprint as fast as I can.
Branches and wind lash at my face like a whip but I don’t stop.
I pray to the gods that everyone is alright.
Everything is in shambles and chaos the moment I step out of the trees.
All I can hear in the turmoil is the painful wailing and the clanging of metals.
Air rushes out from my lungs the moment I set my eyes on the gigantic fiend rampaging through the camp. Pale scales cover its grotesque body, with a pair of jutting horns and two rows of serrated teeth.
The Aldarelf of Ironwood has created a protection spell around the most vulnerable of us. I enter the safety of the barrier immediately, catching my breath.
“What in Astraea’s name is that?” she asks, her face ashen with horror.
“The Ashmedai,” the human answers, panting from the run. I’m glad he was smart enough to follow us into the shield. He will not survive on his own out there.
Shards and splinters of wood fill the air as the demon tears through the camp like the harbinger of apocalypse and destruction.
Rainer’s Grimsbane clash with the creature in a fury of blades.
Despite their varying relentless attacks, none of the weapons are able to penetrate the monster’s scaled armor.
The beast is like a rhinoceros with the agility of a rabbit.
I catch Ragnar at the center of the clearing.
“Stay inside! Get as far away from me as you can,” he warns, his eyes growing wide, turning more feral. His human skin sheds from his body, replaced by shining black fur and claws. I watch as the berserker morphs into a three-headed bear right before my eyes.
The Bodvar Bjadki.
Garrett joins him, going after the monster with the fierceness of a warrior from Kvatosh temple.
His stiletto manages to cut through the Ashmedai’s abdomen, but the creature remains undeterred.
My heart jumps to my throat when its claws strike him, swifter than a scorpion’s tail.
The knight barely evades the lethal attack.
The Ashmedai is faster and stronger than all of them combined. This is pure madness. A creature powerful beyond reckoning.
Eamon is directing his men out of the shield to subdue the monster with magic.
“What are you doing?” Ctibor asks.
“Don’t you see that raw strength? I have direct order from the Aeonians to bring whatever power we can find,” the Aldarelf replies with a manic look on his face.
Is he insane?
They say the Valorians are soldiers of gods; to die for the Aeonians is their highest honor. But Eamon is throwing away their lives like they mean nothing.
Rainer mutters a curse underneath his breath. “You’re drawing its attention towards us.”