The Tale of Daemonica

Friendly Dispute

   Daemonica returned to the Two Suns inn after her meeting with Skald, where she had grown accustomed to staying while in Andala. She already knew the owner quite well and learned that he could be trusted. Rascal, on the other hand, enjoyed honest care in his familiar surroundings with the stable master outside the city. Redviolet just had a nose for people. A hot dinner was waiting for her in her room, just as arranged, so she had time to dine in peace. After dinner, she changed into warm and comfortable clothing and draped a dark hooded cloak over her shoulders. She had left all her weapons this morning for a small bribe in the innkeeper's safe house. Where she was headed, weapons were not allowed. She was not comfortable weaving unarmed through the streets of Andala because of the constant feeling that she was missing something rather than out of concern for her own safety. Andala's security had been affected by the uprising, but she was well aware that the rebels were mostly upper-class people, and that most of the unrest therefore took place on the Royal Bank. With a little caution, the streets on the Small Side were safe, especially for someone who knew the way to her destination as well as she did. The night was still young, and more than a few people hurried through the streets to go about their business, while the fun was already in full swing behind the windows of the inns. Daemonica, with her hood pulled deep into her face, systematically threaded her way through the alleys ascending the slope of the cliff, on the flat top of which a fire beacon in Middar's hands blazed.

After a while, the circular building of the Patron of Andala's temple with its golden dome between four slender towers finally appeared before her, looking down on the harbor lagoon just below the lighthouse. After climbing the high stairs, she entered the silent temple, which, of course, was not her first time. Even so, as ever before, she could not help feeling her own insignificance whenever she found herself here. Beneath the many pillars supporting the vault, at the far end of the great temple, Middar bent over the faithful. His long hair fell into the face of his bowed head, and his arms were outstretched. Daemonica always wondered what the special position of his arms meant. If he was to be open-armed to anyone who asked for his divine grace, or if his arms opened in one of the traditional positions of magicians casting spells, were meant to be a warning to those who would somehow displease him. It was always like that with Middar. He was full of contradictions. Young and yet eternal, kind and terrible at the same time, punishing but forgiving. In the temple, golden bowls of fire were hung from the ceiling to illuminate it. It was done in such a deliberate manner that the play of light and shadow allowed anyone who looked at Middar to guess for himself, searching his conscience, how the god was looking at him. Daemonica, following her father's example and to her mother's displeasure, never gave much to the gods. Like him, she believed in her own judgments and actions rather than relying on divine interventions, though she had never dared question them herself.

And so, like everyone else, she entered the temple unarmed, though she did so out of respect for ancient tradition rather than for fear of divine wrath. Even at this late hour the temple was not empty. Sailors, ship captains, townsfolk, nobles, and commoners dared not neglect to visit it at least once in a while. They did so at any hour, despite the rumor among the people that Middar had far better things to do at night than to listen to the endless pleas of mere mortals. Daemonica watched the ancient god thoughtfully for a moment longer, listening to the quiet noises of the temple before heading for its rear. The great space around her exaggerated even the slightest sounds, and it was hard to know where any of them came from. There was a chill on the back of her neck for some reason. She glanced discreetly around the temple and absentmindedly reached for her weapon. She could barely keep from swearing when she realized she was unarmed.

'It's quite nice to see that that an easy bread and butter has not robbed you of your caution. Let's go.' Daemonica was not relieved, even when she recognized the voice that had spoken to her at close range. Even so, she followed him to the unobtrusive door behind the statue of Middar, through which they passed. They found themselves in a quiet, spacious room that probably served the needs of priests. At the moment, however, it was empty except for one, judging by the attire, high-ranking priest who was obviously expecting them.

Without a word, the he pointed to the far wall, to which they both faced. The sound of the priest's footsteps behind them was largely distorted by the large space of the room. Soon the stone wall rippled before her eyes, and instead a narrow, dark opening stood in front of them. Her companion vanished into the darkness before them without delay, and she had no choice but to follow him again. Cautiously she descended the worn stairs, while the entrance to the catacombs closed at once as she passed through. Only a musty, moist smell filled the impenetrable darkness, causing her to cover her mouth and nose with her forearm. Farther down below, the light of a single torch trembled. The darkness all around them harassed the flickering light from all directions, and it seemed odd that it was able to resist it. The hood that still covered her face began to cling to it in the stifling damp.

'Why are we here, Pete?' The sound of her voice was only a wheeze in the almost palpable damp.

'Quiet,' Pete said under his breath from the darkness. It was obvious that he didn't like his presence in the catacombs either. As they descended to the foot of the stairs, where a torch sputtered in the damp air, Pete put both hands on the slimy wall, trying to feel something. He was lost in the dark for a while, then returned a little later with two torches. He gave one to Daemonica in silence. After a few futile attempts they had succeeded in igniting the torches in the ubiquitous dampness and moved quietly down the narrow, ever-declining corridor, heading deeper underground. On the way they passed several turns, which Pete seemed to be counting intently before turning sharply into one of them. After a while Daemonica was relieved, for the sultry dampness finally gave way to a breath of slightly fresher, sea-scented cool air. She shuddered as it penetrated her damp garment and swirled her sweaty face. Daemonica wiped her sweat-soaked brow on the tip of her cloak again, following the flickering light of Pete's torch, when, quite unexpectedly, she heard the sound of waves crashing against the rock. A moment later they passed from a narrow passageway into a great hall, no doubt in the cliff below the lighthouse. For in its rocky walls were pierced several long narrow openings, instead of windows through which the night sky covered with stars could be seen. A large part of the hall was occupied by a lake whose surface was luminous and whose warm golden light at least partially revealed this vast space. Daemonica stopped in amazement. Yes, she knew that beneath Andala was a huge underground whose age no one dared even guess, and which was also famous for countless legends and stories about what and who was hiding in it. But she had no idea that it held places of this enormous dimensions.

'Amazing, isn't it?' It came from the other end of the hall, the true size of which would probably be difficult to estimate even in daylight. Daemonica woke up and followed the voice, trying to catch up with Pete, who was well ahead of her.

'I knew you were going to disappear from the face of the earth, but I certainly didn't expect you to do so literally!' Daemonica called out into the void and picked up her pace. The floor of the hall was smooth, as if smoothed by thousands of feet over thousands of years. Walking through the hall, she passed massive chunks of rock that supported its rocky ceiling, reflecting the golden surface of the lake. After a while she finally caught a glimpse of the tiny shape of Vassiles waiting for them in one of the many niches in the rock.

'What is this place?' Daemonica forgot her manners when they reached the old man, still looking around in amazement.

'The original Temple of Middar. It is said that it was founded in times only Middar himself can remember. It is also said that his first priests and supporters gathered here, while our wild ancestors still roamed the ruins of a long-extinct civilization. But now is not the time for fairy tales.' Daemonica frowned. Though he spoke in his usual relaxed tone of a man who had seen too much in his long life to dwell on futility, she felt he was not there to have a cup of wine together, as they had done so many times before.

'Why am I here?' She asked warily, Pete disappeared discreetly somewhere in the hall.

'We need to talk. Sit down.' He offered her a place on a stone bench against the wall of the alcove, on which lay only a leather bag and a lantern with a slowly burning candle. Daemonica fixed the torch to a crack in the rock and joined Vassiles.

'Before I answer your question, I'd like to hear what's happened to you since we parted. I know who you've become, of course. However, I am particularly interested in how it happened.' Vassiles said with unexpected kindness, partly distracting her vigilance. Daemonica didn't try too hard to hide the pride that crept into her words more and more as she neared the end of her story. Only Skald, to her own surprise, was not mentioned. Vassiles listened attentively, showing no movement of his mind, until suddenly Daemonica's voice trailed off in an echo of the sea waves crashing against the cliffs in whose bowels they were.

'Your carelessness about your own name and your utter loss of caution before the King will catch up with you.' Vassiles spoke after a moment. 'I would expect a greater degree of judgment from someone like you.'

'My past is only my past, now I live a new life.' She didn't know if she was more angry about his scolding tone or because she had only been reprimanded instead of the old man's recognition.

'But you're terribly wrong about that,' Vassiles replied calmly. Daemonia's throat tightened as she heard the old man's harsh words. Suddenly it seemed to her that everything she had thought was fixed of late was now flowing through her fingers again, knowing that her past had caught up with her.

'Why am I here?' She repeated coldly.

'Xix is under the influence of a power whose origins we can only guess at.' Vassiles ignored her mood.' All the city-states in the Wasteland from which I have reports face the same problem. Someone was deliberately stirring up riots there that desert cities have not experienced in a long time. It's probably been going on for years. You could argue with what we care about Xix, but the same can be observed in Raia, too.'

'You mean the uprising in Andala? There have been many of them before!' She couldn't help but grin at him, though she already knew Vassiles well enough to know that she would bitterly regret her impudence in the moments to come.

'You, who so proudly claim to be the defender of the frontier and the King's devoted servant, should choose very different words.' Vassiles looked hard at her. 'I don't believe you're dazzled enough by your own importance to ignore the state of the border forts, as well as the fact that there's most likely another invasion planned beyond our borders.' Daemonica said nothing.

'And I don't think you'd be naive enough to believe Arnvin's striking reluctance in fighting the rebellion in his own capital. I can assure you that if His Majesty wanted to, all unrest would be contained within a week, no matter whose head ended up in the executioner's basket.' Vassiles paused. Her suspicion that the old man knew the King more than he was willing to admit was confirmed. But she was not going to make it any easier for Vassiles to give the real reason for their meeting. Now Vassiles' patience was wearing thin.

'Don't try to pretend you're completely stupid. And I sure hope you're just pretending. No one knows what caused these sudden riots. Arnvin lets them boil in the hope that someone's leg will slip, that someone will make a mistake and reveal who they're for. He doesn't care about people, but only about his own selfish interests. I know what I'm talking about.'

'Do you? So that's why you hid from him on Ennufu for ten years?' Daemonica saw that she had hit the jackpot.

'It's none of your business!' Vassiles exclaimed, his voice trembling with excitement.

'That is my business, for I serve the King, and you speak like a traitor!' Vassiles's features hardened, and his face showed an indignation she had never seen before. Still, with obvious effort, he controlled his anger when he spoke.

'The King is but a figure in a field far greater than you can see, and you don't know what you're saying. Don't you dare judge things you have no idea about. Play a soldier and admire Arnvin's charm all you want, after all, I myself once succumbed to him aswell. But keep in mind that you, too, can very easily become an exile in your own country.' There was another wave of resistance in Daemonia. She didn't want to listen to Vassiles' words, didn't want to face the realization that she'd been fooling herself all along. The tension between them could be cut.

'Who do you serve?' Daemonica struck hard.

'Raia. I can't tell you more. Not yet.' The old man said firmly.

'Then I can't trust you.' She replied icily.

'One of the tracks we have leads to Cedris, Daemonica.' The old man looked her straight in the eye.

'What do you want from me?' She hissed through her gritted teeth.

'I want you to be alert. I want you to find the traitor in the ranks of Cedris.' Slowly but emphatically, the old man finally stated the reason for their entire meeting.

'Do you really want me to betray the trust of my friends and stalk them unscrupulously?!' Daemonica rose above Vassiles at all her height, and even he, accustomed to many things, unwittingly recoiled beneath her righteous anger.

'I merely ask you not to be fooled by the veneer the traitor waves before your eyes, for I know there is one. I didn't say it had to be one of the officers.' Vassiles said mildly.

'This is too much. You count on my gratitude for saving my life, but there are things I won't do.'

'If I have to use something as low as a reminder of what you owe me in order to make you come to your senses, I will. But I'd rather you get your mind and do what I ask you to do willingly.'

'I won’t spy on my friends.' The candle in the lantern burned out. Vassiles stood up heavily.

'Our time is up.' He said coldly. 'Let's go.' He picked up the lantern and started toward the shining lake without looking back. Daemonica, startled that he had not pressed her further, thoughtlessly grabbed the torch and, feeling like a child after a well-deserved rebuke, started after him. With a sigh, the old man paused on its bank, silently watching the golden water. He spoke only when Daemonica stood silently beside him.

'Do you know what makes it glow?' Daemonica, though for many reasons eager to know the answer, resisted the temptation to ask him. Vassiles went on unbidden.

'It's not magic or a miracle. It's just plants that grow in its waters. It doesn't matter if they're magical or just a freak of nature. Perhaps it seems to you that I'm asking too much... Sometimes we don't want to see the truth, even if it's lying right in front of our eyes until we trip over it. But then it's too late.'

'Do they only grow here?' Daemonica asked unexpectedly.

'No. They are said to appear in places blessed by Middar himself. Of course, these are just old wives' tales.' Vassiles turned to her, startled. 'I tried to study them once. Not here. Unfortunately, removed from where they grew, they perish instantly.' The old man, true to his contemplative nature, would probably have allowed himself to be carried away by expert considerations if Daemonica hadn't interrupted him.

'I will do as you ask.' But Vassiles's question about what had caused her to change her mind so suddenly remained unspoken.

'They're here,' Pete said under his breath, not far from them. An arrow bounced off the pillar they were standing at. Several more fell into the water ahead of them. A group of figures appeared on the opposite bank in the dim light.

'These are the King's soldiers.' Daemonica wondered, who was now hiding behind the pillar with Vassiles.

'Yes.' He said calmly. 'Stay where you are and watch what happens.' The moment he spoke, a second group of warriors appeared on their left and immediately attacked the king's men. The surface of the lake darkened, and tiny ripples began to crash against the shore at which they stood.

'Are we just going to stand here?'

'No.' Vassiles straightened the strap on his shoulder.

'So what do we do?' Several large bubbles appeared on the surface of the lake, and an unexpectedly large wave licked the base of the pillar behind which they were hiding.

'We run!' Vassiles exclaimed, and at a speed she would never say to him, and that she already knew him quite well, he set off after the torchlight in the hand of nearby waiting Pete.