Demon Child Ch. 16

Aylanna reached into a pocket of her old dress and pulled out the purse. Carefully she unwrapped the delicate links of the gold chain with its strange milky stone, trapped within matching golden filigree. Jhardron held it up and stared into its depths, the subtle glints of the rainbow glimmered in the morning light, "This is a rare treasure, one that may inspire envy or greed. This is yours as well. You should wear it with your necklace so that no one will try to take it from you." He slipped it over her head, carefully arranging it so the palm sized gem obscured the medallion below. It felt heavy on her chest and she stared down at it, slightly nervous to have it so boldly displayed, wondering if this thing taken from the body of her father held any magic.

Jhardron wrapped the heavy rain cloak around her, hiding her finery and her demon hair. "Keep yourself covered until you are told otherwise." Aylanna nodded and gathered her old dress into a bundle and followed him out to the wagon, into the rain and the uncertain future. Kwal'kek handed her a leather bag and she gratefully stuffed her dress and other belongings into it.

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The last day the countryside changed. The land surrounding Bak Pan Amara was devoted to carefully groomed woodlands and meadows. Herds of strange white deer grazed placidly in the rain. Here and there, a lane would lead off the main road and, obscured by the veil of rain, Aylanna glimpsed ornate buildings surrounded by gardens.

Kwal'kek pointed at one, "Ghost Rider enclave," his hand swept along the horizon, "All the major houses of the Bak have residences near the city of our mother. Twisted Dagger is located on the east road."

Aylanna nodded absently, hardly heard his words. Her mind seemed crowded with foreboding. She pulled the hood of her cloak down, hiding from his lessons. Hidden under her hood, Aylanna tried to calm her mind, to turn it away from its struggle to see what lay ahead. She repeated her old mantra, 'A Bak warrior must always be in control of her heart, her mind and her body'. She reminded herself no matter what happened she carried the mark of the Twisted Dagger upon her arm and the necklace of a ha'akh upon her neck. No one could take those away from her. The rain fell relentlessly, drumming down on her head through her stiff cloak, drowning out even the sounds of the hooves of the horses on the stone road. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she did not notice the change, the slowing of the wagon, the hum of voices, until she heard a sharp shout to make way.

Cautiously peeking from under her hood, she was shocked to see buildings lining the sides of the road as far as she could see ahead, onlookers crowding covered walkways, saluting the parade of warriors as they passed. Craning her neck she stared at the city. The white buildings were heavily decorated with brightly painted frescos of flowers, birds, images of horses and warriors. The city went on and on, the wagon rolling past markets, side streets that showed only more buildings and people hurrying through the rain. Aylanna stared curiously at a finely dressed woman accompanied by a servant holding what looked like a round conical device on a long stick that sheltered her from the incessant rain. The woman paused and saluted the passing warriors, her eyes bold and measuring. Aylanna noticed her neck was weighted down with heavy loops of gold and beads. Softly she repeated the strange word to herself, "courtesan".

The further into the city the regiment progressed, the larger the buildings became, taller, more ornate with extensive gardens. The street became wider but the numbers of people diminished. Finally, they went through a tall gate, heavily carved with reliefs of running horses and the forms of armed warriors and Aylanna peered forward. Wide green lawns surrounded a gleaming white edifice. On either side of the wide avenue leading up to the building, brilliantly colored banners decorated with the symbols of the various houses hung down heavy and wet. The regiment rode straight for the tall building, heading directly for a dark opening in one side. As they passed through, Aylanna realized they were entering into a huge covered arena. She flinched as from somewhere, loud horns sounded, heralding their entry. Kwal'kek's words took her by surprise, "Remove the cloak. Reveal yourself." Nervously she pulled off the cloak and sat up straight. The regiment rode in a thundering circle around the oval floor of the huge echoing room and came to a stop, lined up in ranks, facing forward stiffly. The wagon was parked behind them.

Jha'hamatla Khan Lann Twisted Dagger faced a tall balcony overlooking the arena and called in a loud ringing voice, "The Twisted Dagger returns to their Aga Khan, supreme ruler of the Bak. We have fulfilled our duties. We bring tribute and await his judgment."

A man stood forth, "Your Khan awaits you in his chambers."

There was a pause and Aylanna sensed a ripple of confusion among the warriors. She could tell this was unexpected. A line of men and women, many of them from the northern races filed out of a pair of wide doors and approached the wagon. Jhardron called for the warriors to dismount, and the man on the balcony spoke again, "Only the officers will be allowed into the chambers of the Khan." Again, there was a ripple of shock that went through the regiment. Aylanna heard at least one of the younger warriors question why their Khan refused to see them, why he treated them with such dishonor. She heard another warrior hiss at the speaker to hold his tongue.

Aylanna shrank back nervously as the strangers began to unload the wagon carrying the boxes and bales back into the opening they had come from. Jhardron's face was rigidly stoic as he spoke rapidly with Jhu'kresh, "Take them to the Twisted Dagger Enclave, await my orders there." He turned to the wagon, reaching for Aylanna without any words, just taking hold of her upper arms and lifting her out and dropping her on her bare feet. As his hands touched her, she could feel the rage seething in his spirit. His words were clipped, "Follow behind me."

She found herself stumbling along behind him, contending with the waves of anger she could feel surging through him as he marched through endless confusing corridors that turned and twisted in a bewildering maze. Sometimes they climbed up stairs or passed through large rooms. There seemed to be people everywhere, guards tall and heavily armed were in evidence at every turn. Repeatedly, Aylanna felt the weight of curious eyes as she passed by. More than once, she caught a furtive movement as someone moved back out of sight, hiding themselves behind tapestries or shutters.

Jhardron stopped abruptly, Aylanna almost colliding into him as Jha'hamatla spoke in a stiff, formal voice, addressing a guard blocking his path, "We have been summoned to the Khan's chambers." The guard stared at them with dark enigmatic eyes, their heavily decorated spears held up blocking the way. Aylanna could feel the rage in Jhardron building to an explosion. She could see his fingers twitch in an almost involuntary movement toward the hilts of his scimitars. Again Jha'hamatla spoke, his voice pitched loud, but his words still formal, "I am Jha'hamatla Khan Lann Twisted Dagger. We have come to swear allegiance to the Aga Khan. We have been summoned to his chambers; you would be wise to admit us."

This time the guard blinked, looking beyond them and Aylanna turned to see an older tall man, still strong and in his prime approaching up the hall, a serious expression on his face. He called out, "My brother, it is good to see you." She watched curiously as Jha'hamatla and the other man, she guessed Jhar'drakon, Jhardron's father embraced and vigorously pounded each other on the back in greeting. Then the new man turned to Jhardron, embracing him as well, his voice warm if somewhat more reserved, "It is good to see you, my son. I hear good things about your leadership."

Jhardron nodded, his face still grim, "My father, what is the meaning of this? To have the regiment dismissed like beggars on the doorstep..."

Jhar'drakon held up a warning hand, his eyes casting about. His voice was low, "This is not the time. Take some comfort in the knowledge that it is not just the Twisted Dagger who has not been welcomed. The Khan's ears have been filled with the whispers of suspicions, suspicions of an assassin's plot. He has not left his chambers in many months."

His eyes met Aylanna's staring at him with open curiosity and he raised a surprised brow at her. "He will see you soon. He is curious to hear of your triumphs. He wants to hear of the Ramaldi kings death; and he has heard rumors of a demon you have tamed." His eyes stared back, boldly assessing her. "I think he will not be disappointed." Aylanna could feel her face heating, her eyes slipping away from his.

It was not much longer when the wide doors were pulled back and the guard stepped to one side. The room was large, the wide ceiling held up by a double row of columns, the walls covered in hanging banners and tapestries. The room was so wide that the corners were in shadow and Aylanna could see the furtive movements of people back there. The contents of the wagon was piled in the center of the room, the Ramaldi gold spilled out and strewn across the floor.

Her eyes were drawn to the figure sitting on a tall dark wooden chair. He sat ramrod straight, his eyes burning with intensity. Dressed in a warrior's loincloth and a gilded leather breastplate, he was laden in gold ornaments. Knowing he must be close in age to the vital man that was Jhardron's father, Aylanna was shocked at how much older he looked. He was skeletal thin, his head smoothly bald, and his eyes feverish. Something moved behind his chair, bent, crablike, dressed in the deepest black. Aylanna shuddered in sudden dread, something monstrous lurked there. But before she could recoil, she felt herself being propelled forward and pushed hard down onto her face atop the scattered coins and trinkets that had been the Ramaldi treasury. Her nostrils twitched at the faint scent of death that still clung to the cursed treasure and she fought the urge to scramble away from the sensation of the cool metal on her skin.

His voice rasped in his throat, "The Twisted Dagger arrives late. The rains have fallen for many days."

Jhar'drakon spoke, his voice calm and just slightly proud, "They were burdened with great treasures for you, my old friend."

The Aga Khan's chuckle was like dry bones rattling, and Aylanna felt her hair prickle on the back of her neck, "Yes, your son proved himself a fine leader. He led his regiment to many victories and has indeed returned in triumph. Any father would be proud of such a son." There was something in his tone, or perhaps in his heart that resonated strangely to Aylanna and she fought the urge to look up at these two men.

The Aga Khan spoke again, "Tell me, son of my friend, where is the head of the Ramaldi king? Why do I not see it among my tribute?"

Jhardron's voice was cool and Aylanna was puzzled at how he skirted the truth, his words, "My Khan, there were many dead, decayed beyond recognition. A witness swore the king was among them but I was not going to bring you an anonymous head, making grand statements about how this one piece of rotted meat was the head of your enemy, and not another."

There was a trace of madness in the Aga Khan's words, "Then how do you know that the king is dead? Your witness could have lied. The murderer of my son could yet be alive."

Jhardron nodded, "That may be true, my Khan. But I am satisfied that he is dead. And if I am in error, than he is lost in the northern lands, a poor wanderer, an outcast from his lands, hated by his people and his gods. I doubt he lives but if he does, he lives with an empty heart."

Aylanna wondered at Jhardron's words. They weren't exactly the truth but they weren't exactly a lie either. He seemed to be talking around the facts. A low gurgling voice muttered and then swelled, "The boy speaks the truth. The Ramaldi king died at the hand of an assassin, a betrayer's knife in his heart." There was a moment of silence and then there was a scraping sound of movement, a lurching dragging step that moved closer to where she lay. The sense of wrongness about this person, this thing made Aylanna's skin crawl and she felt herself tensing. The Khan's voice was distracted, confused for a moment, "Assassins, yes, it's fitting. But I have had my vengeance stolen from me by the hand of a betrayer. Who will pay for the life of my son?"

The strangely garbled voice spoke smoothly, changing the subject, "My lord, a treasure awaits your pleasure. The Twisted Dagger traveled clear to the northern sea. They bring you many curiosities. They even have captured a living demon." The thing that was speaking was close, too close and when she felt its touch, Aylanna could not remain still. She rolled violently away, a small whimper of revulsion welling up. Her foot struck the long sword in its covering, knocking it over; rolling down off the crate it had been placed upon. It hit the floor with loud clang, and rolled free from its shroud. No longer covered with rust, it had been cleaned, polished and sharpened. It flashed in the light of the torches, drawing the eyes of all in the room. There was a mutter among the watchers in the shadows.

Aylanna huddled on the far side of the pile from the strange creature, staring at it with wide frightened eyes. The man was bent, twisted, his crooked spine pulling him down in a perpetual crouch. He had a single black burning eye and his hair was patchy, growing in grotesque clumps down low on his forehead. Between the clumps were strange, light colored, bulbous growths of flesh. He wore a long black cloak that hid his arms and legs, but his body seemed as misshapen as his face. He was staring at her intently with his one eye. A dry little voice in the back of Aylanna's head wondered if all witches seemed to have only one eye; the witchdoctor who had raised her had been blind in one eye, his sightless eye white and frightening. This witch's face was hideously deformed, his second eye socket hidden behind the strange growths that covered the left side of his face.

His voice was slurred, wet and hissing when he spoke softly, almost to himself, "Yes, a demon indeed. It seems quite wild."

There was a second murmur and Aylanna looked up to see the Aga Khan pulling himself to stand. He seemed to sway for a moment and then moved stiffly toward her. Remembering Jhardron's words, she flattened herself to the floor. From where she lay, she could see the hilt of her father's sword lying near her face and the fingers of the Khan as he reached down and took hold of it. She found her eyes following up the hand as it lifted, her neck turning to watch, her eyes wide, mesmerized. The Aga Khan held the sword, clearly straining to hold it up and refusing to accept his weakness. He swung it experimentally and staggered, almost falling. Again, there was a swell of the sound of whispering. Several people lunged forward to catch him but it was Jhardron who took the sword from his hand. The Aga Khan shook off the hand of Jhar'drakon, clearly frustrated with his weakness. He stared down at the gold, "This gold is cursed. I want none of it. Have it sent to the temple, tell the priestess to pray for the life of my son."

This time, the murmuring of the onlookers was clearly audible. Aylanna wondered if she had misunderstood. His son was dead, how can the priestesses pray for his life? Did they have magic to bring back the dead? Or had the Aga Khan slipped into madness. Then she sensed something from Jhar'drakon, Jhardron's father, a rush of fear and something else, something hidden. And at the same time a flash of rage from the twisted wizard. The Aga Khan turned and returned to his chair, almost falling into it, "I claim the ha'akh as my own. Have her taken to the women's quarters. The artifacts shall be put on display in the main dining hall. Let the heralds proclaim that the Twisted Dagger has served well and honorably. They will be rewarded for their loyalty. Now, all of you get out. Leave me." He waved his hand dismissively.

One of the guards reached down and took hold of Aylanna's arm, lifting her up and dragging her away. Her eyes met Jhardron's, wide with terror and protest. He blinked, made an almost imperceptible negating shake of his head and turned away. Her legs seemed weak and she could hardly feel the floor beneath her feet. Again there was an endless maze of corridors and then she was deposited before a door. The guards here were women, huge women, dressed as warriors. The guard's words were short, "A new ha'akh."

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

For those of you new to this story, I have included many words of the Bak language. The meanings of most are easy to determine from context. A ha'akh is the lowest rank of servant to a warrior regiment.

Please do me the kindness of leaving me feedback and comments.

Enjoy, xantu