The Tale of Daemonica

Even the Dreams May Hurt

   Following a narrow slippery path up a gentle slope, they moved slowly through the jungle. As always, Daemonica kept a cautious distance from Valace and his men. In the many months she had already spent on Ennufu, she had understood much. There was a significant difference between those who were allowed to call themselves Pirates and ordinary thugs. The Pirates were sort of officers and the cutthroats, just cheap ammunition for weapons, which had to be kept pretty dry (by low pay) and under careful supervision. Once in a while, the cutthroats would rise, and it was up to the momentary leader whether or not the revolt destroyed him. History has shown that many times the revolts have indeed led to a change of leadership.

Daemonica did not belong to either group. Lately she'd become increasingly irritable and annoyed, which she thought was because Valace hadn't paid her even once. Yes, he kept his word and paid all her expenses for her room and meals in the pub. He also made sure she had good equipment at hand, but he gave her no money. On the contrary, her reluctance to take part in some of his expeditions (she had never participated in the slavery of the villagers and had never joined in sea combat) was borne with growing displeasure. He didn't trust her, but she didn't trust him either.

The rainy season was over, and Pete and his ship could show up any day now. Daemonica had managed to raise some cash, thanks to Cadmair, who she sold the weapons and equipment she had captured and for which she had no use, but there had never been much money among the Roy inhabitants. The prices of food and all ordinary necessities far exceeded the value at which a weapon could be obtained. It was a brilliant pirate strategy to keep the city under control. Cadmair simply could not give her more, and what she had managed to save was desperately little.

Their expedition stopped at the foot of a hill that looked like a volcano. An active volcano, as it soon became apparent when smoke and ash billowed from its esophagus and lava burst into the sky in a geyser. The sun had set, and hidden beneath the lush foliage they waited for the scouts to return. Their group numbered several dozen of Valace's pirates. Some of them, though not different in clothing from others, carried only daggers at their waists. Mages, Daemonica thought.

She sat on the flat stone away from the others and watched the volcano spewing fire at irregular intervals. The coming fight was causing her a familiar excitement, which was becoming increasingly difficult to resist. Waiting meant struggling to the limit of her own strength to keep at least the remnants of her self. To ease the challenge, her thoughts returned to far more peaceful memories.

'Your wounds seem to be healed,' said Vassiles thoughtfully when they were reunited about a fortnight after their first meeting. 'But the scar under your eye will probably never heal.' He probed her shamelessly. 'Neither will the other,' Vassiles added, and said no more. Daemonica passed his allusion to the almost invisible scar on her shoulder, which she had received in her feverish dream from the duel with the Beast, in silence. Instead, she handed Vassiles a wicker basket of food and began to open a nice jug of red wine herself.

'Tell me already,' Vassiles said impatiently as they sat comfortably on the familiar bench. Daemonica told him everything accurately and coherently, without much emotion. Eventually, however, she reached the question of the strange fifth island she had seen after the first bloodshed with Valace.

'Yes, there really are only four Pirate Islands,' Vassiles said slowly. 'You were lucky enough, though. What you saw was the Lighthouse. In all ten years I've spent here, I've only seen it twice,' Vassiles paused, as if he had said more than he wanted to. He cleared his throat and continued casually. 'It's not like I'm wandering back and forth through the jungle,' Vassiles grinned. 'But I can confirm that it exists.'

'Lighthouse?' She wondered. 'I thought it was just a legend,' she clarified.

Vassiles said nothing. In fact, there was no need to add. No one who wanted to live sailed west from the Pirate Islands. Daemonica frowned, and they spoke of it no more.

She was frowning even now as another wave of excitement from the too slowly approaching battle lifted her to her feet. She looked impatiently in the direction of Valace's men. But they kept waiting in silence. Angrily, she took a few steps toward them, then, by the force of her will, she changed direction and headed for a tree nearby. She leaned against its smooth trunk and closed her eyes. The blood pressure in her veins eased slightly.

She visited Vassiles several more times. They often talked about Andala, never about their own past. She came back to him whenever she was sick of bloody nightmares and her own deeds. She slept in his net while Vassiles worked. Lately, however, Vassiles had been looking at her pensively, and their previously lively conversations had turned to silence. The last time they saw each other, he told her that it was getting hot in Roy and that when Pete showed up, he was going to sail with him. This irritated Daemonica, who herself was losing the battle to gather the sum which would get her out of here. She felt betrayed by Vassiles and hadn't visited him since. It's been a few weeks already.

Every day she spent in Roy, Daemonica looked out of the window in her room hoping to see Pete's ship, which Vassiles had described to her, but which was still not coming. In her increasingly dark thoughts, she slowly began to doubt that any Pete even existed. In her mind, she imagined Vassiles amused by her naivety. A wave of anger rose in her again.

'Bored?' Valace's voice at her ear jolted her from her thoughts. She could feel his warm breath on her bare neck. How could she get caught off guard like that? Valace deftly held her hand, reaching for the hilt of her sword. The blood raged in her veins. Whenever he was close to her, she was utterly ecstatic at the idea of them fighting side by side again. She knew Valace felt the same way. She could not move, his proximity overwhelming to the remnants of her judgment.

'Valace, the scouts are back!' Came from the darkness, which was all around them now. That saved her. Valace immediately started toward his men, Daemonica at his heels. One look at the scouts was all it took for him to start the action by waving his hand. They proceeded scattered up the slope of the volcano, trying to hide behind lava rocks from landslides caused by trembling earth rather than from some hostile eyes. Their first destination, she knew, was the long stairway up the slope of the volcano that led to the ancient temple. At the bottom of the stairs they paused for a moment while Valace met another scouts.

'I've been planning this for a long time,' Valace smirked that morning, with everyone involved boarding in front of him in his Red Palace. 'There are probably treasures of infinite value hidden in that temple. I want them along with the head of the witch who so boldly claims them. Unfortunately, over the years she has occupied the temple, she has created a sufficient network of secret and public supporters to supply her with slaves, my slaves, for her disgusting rituals. After a long wait, we finally managed to infiltrate the sect and found out that just today all of them will be pretty together in the temple.' Valace went silent. It was needless to say more. This way he would get rid of an unpleasant rival and possible traitors in his own ranks at the same time.

So now they were climbing cautiously up the ancient staircase on either side of it. Before long, however, the stairway split into several narrow paths with bridges that avoided and crossed ancient lava streams that were slowly beginning to fill. Their movement became a run through a hot field until they reached a narrower but higher flight of stairs that opened into a cave in less than half of volcanic cone. Valace whistled briefly at its entrance and burst in.

When Daemonica and the others followed, they found themselves in a huge cave in the volcano's esophagus, into which a giant hole had been pierced, now spewing lava more and more frequently. Inside the cave were about 100 people, who were watching a woman standing some distance ahead of them already quite close to the hot stream. A small group of other people stood near her. A not so wide rift in the ground separated the woman and the group from the rest of them. Several massive stone columns supported the ceiling, they would soon provide welcome support. The people in front of them were so absorbed in what the woman was doing that they didn't notice them at first. Once inside, about ten pirate mages sealed off the entrance and cast protective spells on them, which were, of course, limited in time. Valace, who had never wasted any time, whistled thinly again. It rippled in the group directly in front of them as Valace's men, infiltrated among the sect members, attacked. At the same time, the group Daemonica was in joined the fight. It took a moment for the woman behind the crack further into the cave to realize what was happening. That moment was enough for them to wipe out all the wizards they knew about.

Just then, a young-looking witch with a very ugly expression on her face grabbed one of the poor men beside her and slit his throat artfully. Dark shadows began to crawl out of his blood as it touched the ground. But Daemonica and the rest were still busy fighting the sect members that included, among other, more than a few pirates-traitors. Their mages, meanwhile, began to deal with the monsters sent toward them by the witch, still holding the victim's body. Valace, Daemonica and several other men broke through quite close to the rift. The witch didn't miss it. She tossed the exhausted body aside and held out her hands to a group of utterly terrified victims. Several of them were literally swept into the maw of raging volcano. Ahead of them, high flames burst from the fissure. Valace and Daemonica turned to the cave entrance at the same time to find that their mages had been eliminated.

Daemonica was furious seeing what the witch was doing. When Valace looked at her, he saw that her skin had turned black. Valace was always ready to use any opportunity to his advantage.

'Bring me her head,' he said calmly, but loud enough for his men around them to hear, 'and I'll pay you its weight in gold.'

'In Raia currency,' Daemonica said with difficulty.

'Deal.'

Daemonica waited for nothing and ran toward the wall of fire. A shadow rose above her head. Before she reached the fissure, the shadow broke free of her, smashing through the barrier of fire, and Daemonica leaped after it through the gap in the fire it had created. The witch was taken aback only for an instant. A moment later she extended her arms toward them again, but the invisible blow was easily blocked by the Beast. There was no time for the witch to cast another spell. Daemonica picked up speed, and in the run she caught up with the Beast to rejoin. She bounced off the ground and aimed the point of her sword at the witch. The blade of her sword glowed red from the volcano's flames and reflected for a moment in the witch's eyes before she beheaded her.

Daemonica staggered slightly. Absently she touched her hip, wet with warm blood, but the wound was not deep. She looked at the witch's body. She held a dagger in her hand, and her red robe darkened at her hip. Daemonica turned away from the body and gazed toward the group of terrified victims. None of them dared look at her. A drop of blood from her nose fell on her hand remaining on the hilt of the sword.

Daemonica realized that she had to get out of here immediately before she did something terrible. Fiercely clinging to the last shreds of her sanity, she grabbed the sword and head of the witch and started toward the rift. First she threw the severed head over it at Valace's feet, then she leaped over it herself. On the other side, she looked at him darkly and said only: 'Tomorrow.'

Valace nodded silently.

Then she continued toward the cave exit. The surviving pirates parted before her, but she was no longer aware of them.

As she hurried down the stairs and the narrow paths, the fire seemed to burn all around her. Boiling lava rolled down in ever-increasing streams. Her mouth was full of her own blood, and there was a red mist before her eyes. She was sick. At last she found herself at the foot of the volcano, leaving the lava field safely behind. She wiped her still bleeding nose on the sleeve of her shirt, which was white just yesterday, and charged into the jungle.

It took her all day to get through it. She was unfamiliar with this part of the island, and the narrow path they had come along was unpredictably lost before her eyes. By the time she reached the city, the sun was long over the horizon again. She was very fortunate that the gate was still open. The guards were probably still waiting for Valace's return. Fortunately, the sentry outside the gate paid no attention to her; they already knew her. In its convenient shadows, avoiding people and potential conflicts, she passed in less than half an hour through the city of which twisting and hidden paths she already knew very well.

Relieved, she slammed the door of the familiar room behind her and braced the doorknob with the back of the chair, on which she fell wearily just after. Directly in front of her was a window to the harbor, from which she watched the night falling. When it got dark, she went outside to wash and then straight back to her room. She had no thought of eating, even though the worst seemed to be over. When she was about to lay down in her bed, she realized that the wound on her hip had disappeared. Absolute exhaustion descended on Daemonica as she finally lay in bed. She stared at the ceiling without thinking for some time, but eventually sleep overcame her.

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   She involuntarily climbed the stairs up the slope of the volcano to the cave of the temple. She knew she was dreaming yet another dream. One of those she'll remember. Daemonica had no choice but to climb the dark stairs again, through the flames, up to the cave entrance. She walked between the massive stone pillars and came to the rift. Sorcerer was standing where she had beheaded the witch yesterday. Behind him, the lava flowed steadily up the volcanic gullet. Sorcerer's long black hair fluttered in the waves of hot air. His robe was dark and his expression deadly.

'You're walking the wrong path.' He said icily.

Daemonica stopped in front of the crack she had not yet dared to cross. But she looked at Sorcerer without fear, and exclaimed with previously unknown insolence: 'What entitles you to judge that?'

Sorcerer continued to stare at her impassively.

A wave of anger surged in her. The blood raged in her veins.

'Do you want to fight me, Daemonica?' said Sorcerer mockingly, but there was a challenge and a threat in his voice too. Only now did Daemonica realize that she was holding a sword in her hand. She gripped its hilt tightly.

'I dare you to try.' Sorcerer added.

'You can not scare me. You're dead, a mere dream!' She aimed the point of her sword at Sorcerer.

'Then let me prove to you that even the dreams may hurt.' Sorcerer replied matter-of-factly, while he clenched his right hand into a fist with a slow, casual movement.

A sharp pain ran through the scar in Daemonica's right shoulder. The sword clattered to the ground.

'You've been warned,' came to her ears before she woke up. 

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   Daemonica sat up sharply in bed with her hand on her shoulder. Under her fingers, her blouse was soaked with warm blood that flowed from an open wound in the scar. Her entire right arm was paralyzed by pain. Quickly, with her other hand, she tore a piece of linen from her shirt and blocked the wound. Only her rapid breathing could be heard in the room.

In the golden dawn outside the window, the slender silhouette of a ship was approaching the harbor.