Chapter 18 The Daemonguard #2
Her mystery, her subtle strangeness, made his mind burn with curiosity.
He kept going back to her story, over and over again.
Who had clipped her mana body? Who would carry out such a heinous crime on an innocent child?
The Dhastel family had always been loyal to Forsynthia, yet this discovery cast a shroud over their family name.
If Celise was their daughter, then she was no spy, no villainess, and no threat to anyone.
Who would want to hurt her—as a mere baby, no less?
He had never felt anything as powerful as his need to protect her.
Why? She was no one, just a slip of a thing without mana.
Yet her gentleness soothed something deep in his heart, something he couldn’t name.
When he touched her hand, his aching muscles eased, and his turbulent thoughts became settled and still.
He felt like he could breathe again. Like he had some chance of finding the man he had lost—the one who had lived before the war.
A shout from ahead of him drew Elias’s attention, interrupting his thoughts.
He saw movement on the terrace at the back of the dance hall.
He recognized Kiran’s white jacket from a distance.
Celise faded from his thoughts as Elias raised his hand.
A flash of mana ignited his palm so the men on the terrace could see his approach.
Flash hands. Kiran signaled in return, his red mana answering Elias’s blue.
The hunt was on.
Elias felt another grim sense of anticipation.
He had missed this; his skills had become obsolete over the past two years of political functions, speeches and parades.
The night brought back a flood of memories from the Abyss: destroying nests of daemons; soldiers culling their way to the heart of the monsters’ domain.
Reaching the depths of the crater, where the remnants of the ancient meteor pulsed with alien life, was the goal of their campaign.
Only at the very heart of the Abyss could they locate and kill the Daemon King.
Those memories were still fresh in his mind.
He was a warrior first, a duke second, and on this night, he was in his element.
With his half-plate armor donned, gun in hand and two shined swords sheathed at his belt, Elias joined Kiran Kindale and the four soldiers of the Daemonguard on the veranda outside the ballroom.
In the early morning hours, a thin veil of mist pooled in the lower parts of the grounds, obscuring his father’s daft idea for a maze.
The misty gardens lay before him, macabre and haunting, and utterly silent.
“I see you’ve brought your new toy,” Kiran barked as he approached Elias on the terrace. He indicated the gun in Elias’s hand. “Do you plan to test it tonight?”
“Seems like a perfect opportunity.”
“I agree. If it gets too heavy for you, I’ll gladly carry it—”
“Not until I’ve tested it first. It could . . . backfire.”
Kiran looked amused by his choice of wording. He raised a reproachful eyebrow. “If it blows off a hand, it might as well be my prosthetic,” he pointed out.
Elias hesitated. He glanced down at his own hands, thinking of the months of surgery and immense amount of mana it had taken for the doctors to attach his new limb. Kiran’s donation to his new body couldn’t be overlooked. After struggling for a moment, he released a long sigh.
“I suppose you have a point,” Elias conceded, and handed the cannon to Kiran, who looked ecstatic.
He twirled the gun around in his shined hand, the dainty gears of his knuckles clicking mechanically, his bronze fingers only slightly stiffer than their organic counterparts.
Then Kiran slid the gun into the deep inner pocket of his white coat.
It created a noticeable outline at the side of his breast.
Elias made a mental note to request a custom holster from Meister Barbaros.
“May I be the first to congratulate you on your engagement?” Kiran continued. “Have you set a date for the wedding?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Elias growled. “The girl is unconscious in the infirmary. She might come to her senses in the morning and flee the noose.”
“Oh please, you’re too self-deprecating. The girl was lucky to come across you in the gardens. It must have been terrifying for her to encounter a daemon alone like that.”
“I imagine it was,” Elias said quietly, his mind returning again to his moment of passion with Celise in the shrine. Somehow, he wouldn’t choose "terrifying" to describe the evening.
Kiran slapped him on the back. “I’m glad it all worked out, because I was having a difficult time choosing a bride for you. The obvious one was the fencing champion, Katrina Dhastel, but after she fled—”
“Katrina,” Elias murmured, frowning as he recalled the name. “She was the girl in red who met us on the steps.”
“Yes, that one. Why? Did you take special notice of her?”
“No, not like that.” Elias thought of Celise’s expression when her sister appeared on the staircase: a look of fear mingled with disgust and loathing.
It contained no familial love or tenderness.
He wondered about that. The two girls didn’t look related, but they obviously belonged to the same family.
Sibling rivalries were common in aristocratic families, but Celise didn’t seem like the type of girl to hate someone without reason.
Damnable dust, I must get her off my mind.
“I’m not interested in Katrina,” Elias snapped. “I simply proposed to the girl I held in my arms; that is all.”
“Which is why you turned out half the archives looking for her family name.” Kiran smirked at him in a knowing way that set Elias’s teeth on edge. He glared at his adopted brother, but the man only smiled. Kiran looked delighted by his discomfort.
“Alas,” Kiran continued, “My evening was much less eventful. After the Dhastel girl fled the ball, I thought I would swoop up the lovely Ambrosia Verabon. I found her to be a fine dance partner, but she reminded me of your first fiancée. What was her name? Raelia? Very charming, yet somehow sinister.”
“Raelia Riverton,” Elias sighed, “and I don’t appreciate you reminding me of her name. I am trying to forget it.”
“Right. Sorry, old chap.”
“Enough talk of brides and ballrooms,” Elias grumbled, noticing the rest of the Daemonguard milling around nearby, obviously eavesdropping. “Let’s get back to business. Attention! To rank!”
“Sir!” The guards saluted and formed a neat line, standing at attention near the balustrade.
Kiran fell into place at the end of the row.
Elias’s eyes traveled over the members of the Daemonguard at his disposal.
He recognized the four officers—he had promoted them personally: Ravenna, Fenrick, Riordan and Cherry.
They formed a special task force for high-risk missions around the kingdom.
All of them had served in the Abyss, though Cherry, the youngest, only caught the tail end of the campaign.
She had spent six weeks in the pit before the Daemon King was defeated, but her talents were extraordinary.
Ravenna and Fenrick were married, he recalled. Riordan was Fenrick’s older brother, and both were mixed blood from Dresengard. The brothers were tall, lanky and golden-haired, while Ravenna was as dark and dramatic as her name.
Cherry had short auburn hair and indigo mana. She specialized in defensive tactics. She was young, perhaps the same age as Celise, but he had never seen a daemon break through her barriers. She had the rare ability to see shadowhide daemons, which made her indispensable as an operative.
Elias addressed the soldiers in a formal tone: “As you all know, a group of daemons has infiltrated Gravenmere Castle. Who brought them and how they came to be here has yet to be seen. I found tracks in the ruins of the old castle, in the mud near the lake shrine. That’s where I engaged and defeated the first daemon, a yellow tumbler, beside the pond, but I suspect there are more.
Consider this a traditional hunt, just like we would execute on the tertiary levels of the Abyss. We shall embark at once.”
The soldiers all saluted as one.
“Follow me,” Elias commanded in a clipped tone. Then he started down the staircase, crossed the flagstone pavilion, and bolted into the garden maze, the squad jogging behind him in single file.
As he walked, he recited low under his breath:
“Hidden behind the moonlit veil,
Eagle, fawn and otters dance.
Your gift awaits the midnight hour,
A dark reminder of your past.
Tonight, the scales shall be righted.
A visit of abyssal doom
to seal the grave you should have entered.
More awaits within the tomb.”
“That sounds familiar,” Kiran said by his side, overhearing Elias’s somber chant. “Is that not the ominous riddle you received in the mail yesterday?”
“It is.” Elias repeated the riddle one more time, a bit louder for Kiran’s sake. His brother-in-arms looked thoughtful.
“Whoever wrote that letter put a lot of effort into arranging all of this. They must have a strong personal vendetta against you. It’s not easy to transport a daemon—or several daemons—so far from the Abyss.
It’s more than a hundred miles away. Whoever planned this must have had a lot of help.
Do you have the riddle on you, by chance? ”
“No. Berrybean spilled tea on it.”
“That rascal.” Kiran winced. “Did I hear that right—‘More awaits within the tomb’?”
“Yes.”
“There’s only one tomb on Gravenmere grounds.”
“I know. Let’s head there directly.”
“Yes, sir.”
Elias prowled like a wolf ahead of the small group.
He drew Blacklight, carrying it before him like a torch through the hedgerows of the empty maze.
Certain daemons could camouflage themselves, becoming invisible in the darkness, but Blacklight’s illumination could reveal them.
The length of the rod was matte black and shimmered with a dull purple color from his mana.