Storm and Shadow: Demon Storm, #2

Prologue

Sweat dotted Ari’s forehead, his cheeks reddened from the roaring blaze in front of him. His eyelids were heavy as they lifted, then snapped open as he noted the burial pyre. The flames reached high, ascending into billows of thick smoke. He was on his knees. The core of the pyre warmed his face.

When had it been lit? He looked down at his hands, but the torch rested on the ground. Had he lit it...then fallen asleep?

Lord Ari?

He looked up at Roland, who leaned on his walking stick. Beyond Roland stood the villagers, gazing around in a haze. They blinked and rubbed their eyes as if they, too, had just woken up.

Roland, Ari gasped. What—

He recalled something. Just before he lost consciousness, he’d felt something in the air. Some strange magic; loose, capricious, and his aura could not stand against it. He had tried to fight it...but...

Roland grabbed his elbow and pulled him to his feet. All is well now, Lord Ari. I...can’t say what happened myself, either, but I have already checked everyone here. They are all fine and accounted for.

Ari looked to the pyre. The bodies burned; the dead would be cleansed so their souls could go on to the afterlife.

Kari...she would not go on, would she? Demons did not receive penance in Nalmi as humans did.

He clenched his fists. I did what I had to. If I didn’t, she would’ve...

I must write to Lucas at Angel Cross, he heard himself say. They will see the smoke. I do not want them to worry unnecessarily. And... Ari glanced around at his people, helping each other stand, some gazing at the pyre, others already leaving. We may need their aid.

Of course, Lord. Afterward...might I suggest we discuss all that has happened?

Gods, he felt so tired. He rubbed a hand over his face and shoved his fingers into his reddish-brown hair. How he longed to disappear into a dark place, to hide away from the pain threatening to rip his insides apart.

She loved me. But no...if she had, she wouldn’t have done this. Would she? She was a demon, but she was different. So different.

So why? I saw her myself, and I wasn’t the only one.

He was not a child anymore. He could not flee from these feelings any longer.

Yes, he managed. I will come find you later.

Very well, Lord.

ARI FINISHED THE LETTER to Lucas and sealed it before making his way to Roland’s temple. As he approached the doors, a woman exited, her face blotchy and red.

Ari knew her name—Susan. She was...a seamstress.

Lord, she whispered in a cracked voice.

Susan’s husband had been one to be placed on the pyre, and a child of hers as well. Ari’s breath burned in his chest.

Susan, he said. If there is anything I can—

She gave a short, sharp shake of her head. Oh, no, Lord. No...nothing can be done now.

She turned, leaving him in the shadow of the temple, where he belonged. With a sigh threatening to break him in half, Ari entered.

Roland was in his aviary. Ari nudged the door open enough to slip inside and let it fall shut behind him. He approached one of the Sage Hawks, but his fingers fumbled to attach the letter. Roland took over, tying string around the minuscule scroll with years of practice.

What do I do, Roland? Ari whispered as Roland finished. Surely I have failed everyone here. I was the one who allowed her to stay. I...

Roland shook his head. There will be some who feel anger, as is part of grieving, Lord Ari. Their anger is not for you, but for the unfairness of the world. This was not your sole doing.

Ari laid his hands flat on a nearby table and bowed his head. How can it not be?

Roland rested a hand on his shoulder. We all loved her, Lord Ari. We all saw the light she brought to you, and our village as well. She was not someone who would do this.

Ari raised his head. What are you saying?

Roland’s hand twitched before it fell. I think it best we discuss this more later when it is less fresh. For tonight, I want you to humor me. As night falls upon this dark day, you are no longer lord.

Ari turned as Roland released the hawk out an open window. What?

You will pray and meditate with me. Not as lord, but as the man you are. Feel your turmoil, and together we will unravel it, piece by piece.

Ari’s lips curled. As you wish, old friend.

They returned to the main temple and sat on the cold wooden floor facing each other. Together, their light outshone the candles lining the walls. Ari’s light was brighter, not only due to the birthright of his power but also because of the fury inside of him.

Why? He wanted to scream to the sky, to the woman who had lain dead at his feet. Why did you betray us all?

He couldn’t forget the screams of his people, the crackling of fire, nor the high, sharp laughter as Kari leapt from rooftop to rooftop, spreading flames as she went.

Ari, Roland whispered.

He forced himself to breathe. His light dimmed; he saw her face, moments before his sword had entered her gut. Not the distorted, cruelly-sharpened expression, but the wide eyes brimming with tears and pain. The mouth set and trembling, not sneering.

Why would someone with such a countenance do what she did?

THAT NIGHT, ARI LAY awake. His bed was too vast and cold, his room too quiet. Had it been only a day and a half ago that she had lain here with him? Since he had curled his arm around her and pulled her close?

His throat burned; his chest felt so cold it was hard to breathe. He sat up and stared into the darkness.

Despite what he knew—what he had seen and heard—he could not forget Roland’s insinuation. She was not someone who would do this.

Of course, he would not have expected such insanity and cruelty of Kari a week ago. Even twenty-four hours ago, attacking his people was one of the last things fathomable. She was hurt and afraid, but she was not dangerous. She had proven that time and again.

But when she came back from the mountain that first time...she had spoken with him. When he was grateful to see her, she had spoken harsh words, her eyes aglow with scarlet light.

Kill me, Lord Ari. Kill me, or more will die.

She had kept her promise. While he stood frozen in disbelief, she destroyed buildings and hurt people. Her cackle had filled the air as his people screamed and fled. When he finally gathered the courage to ready his bow, she escaped into the forest.

Inevitably, she returned, as all demons do. Perhaps she would have finished the job, or perhaps Roland’s suggestion had a kernel of truth. Maybe Kari’s final pleadings were not false.

Regardless, Ari did what he thought he had to do. And now Kari was dead.

He dropped his head into his hands and allowed the flames in his throat to overcome him as he wept.

THE SUN WAS BRIGHT, far too joyously golden to shine on such a dreary village. Ari walked toward the thick of Raziac Village, Roland wobbling along at his side, and wondered at the fairness of the Gods. How could they cast the light of the sky down on them now? How could they allow such betrayal, such pain, only to remind them the world must go on?

Little Thomas has not gone on, his mind whispered. The list of casualties had not been vast by any means, but that name alone burned a hollow in Ari’s chest. Thomas. He was barely six. Why Thomas? Why any of them?

Lord?

Ari turned to Roland, who stopped in front of the apothecary. Sorry, Roland. I’m coming.

They entered the shop. Small, cramped, dusty. Jars stuffed with herbs, powders, dried organs, skin, and bones lined the shelves along the walls. At the stained counter stood Gerok, his wrinkled face breaking into a tired smile as they entered.

Lord, he greeted. Bishop.

Good morning, Gerok. Ari made his way to the counter. Roland and I will be making rounds for the next several days. I want everyone to know I am here, and that they are safe.

Gerok watched him with small eyes surrounded by thick folds of skin. He was getting very old. Ari made a note to find him an apprentice soon.

Word is you took care of...the threat, Lord. The youngin’s are saying that.

Ari’s chest tightened. Yes.

An odd thing, Gerok murmured, turning away from them. I seen many demons in my life. Before we came here, my father, mother, and I lived in a village north. My father fought them. You always knew when one was around. They had a way of making the air hard to breathe. Tense, y’know. But she...well, if I may say so, she was as un-demonlike as they come, Lord.

Ari nodded numbly.

We thank you, Gerok, Roland said. We will return tomorrow.

We’ll be safe here, Gerok said, disappearing toward the back of the shop. As long as our lord is here, I am content.

Ari followed Roland outside again. His legs trembled. He leaned against the wall beside the door.

Are you alright? Roland asked.

Ari shook his head. I feel the anger in me, Roland. The anger that allowed me to... He rubbed a hand over his face. Have I made a mistake?

His voice shook. Roland grabbed his shoulder.

You did what you deemed rational and fair within the moment, Lord. You defended our town as well as you could. There is no shame in that.

What if it wasn’t her? Ari muttered.

Roland remained silent.

Ari exhaled heavily and straightened himself, brushing off his shirt. Let us go on.

They stopped by the butcher and bakery. Cragg needed nothing, glad enough to have his daughter safe. Gorth and Telda, as expected, were so supportive it made Ari want to crumble. He left before his knees threatened to fail him.

As they rounded the square to the smith, Julia exited the armory. She paused at the sight of them before offering a graceful curtsy. Her eyes glittered in a way they hadn’t for many, many weeks. Ari recalled what Kari had once told him, so many months ago. He knew Julia fancied him, but it had always seemed childlike. Unreal. If she knew more of the world, Julia would know Ari was not the man for her.

G’morning, Lord Ari, Roland.

Morning, Julia. How are you?

Her lips twisted, as if unable to say what she wished. Her brow scrunched, and she took a step closer.

My lord, she whispered. You are the one who is hurting, not me.

Ari’s gut and heart shrank, his mind fogging. Don’t say that.

He cleared his throat.

All of us are, I think. He offered a small smile, one Julia did not return. His insides quailed; she usually simpered at him whenever he smiled.

I may not have liked her much, my lord, but I saw the two of you. Such...such love, and light. A storybook pairing. My lord, I hate her for the pain she’s caused you.

This time, Ari took a physical step back; Julia followed him.

I thought she was different, for a demon. All of us did. We were wooed and blinded by the falsities she brought. But she... She gathered his hands in hers, her fingers long and smooth. She hurt you. She lied and betrayed you. All of us. Gods, if I could...if I could kill her again for you, I would!

Ari snatched his hands away from her. Julia’s eyes widened. She shrank before him.

Ari’s body was on fire. Her words were poison, but a poison he knew well. He’d felt her hatred before, the blindness and pain.

Roland stepped forward and took Julia’s hands within his own.

Your devotion to our lord is beautiful and just, but your anger is misplaced. We should never seek vengeance and pain of others. Please, child, come to see me later. We can discuss this further in prayer.

Julia’s eyes darted to Ari. She nodded, bowed her head, and left them.

Lord, shall we return?

How could one man do this? How could one person hold the grief and anger of everyone else, as well as his own, without shattering under it? True, few others had expressed such venomous fury, but he knew as well as anyone that their grief would soon turn to anger, then hatred. They would not be able to take the pain, just as he hadn’t, and they would seek a way to burn it away.

All his work, and the work of his father, would crumble. There would be no more peace.

Lord, Roland spoke again, softly.

I will go on, Ari said. I must.

By nightfall, they finished their round through Raziac Village at the barracks. Only Jarus, the man who attacked Kari on her first appearance in the village, echoed Julia’s wrath. Every other villager—every man, woman, and child—projected gratitude and worry for Ari.

Their sympathy and kindness tore him up in ways he couldn’t have fathomed. They should be angry; Telda’s bakery was destroyed, several homes were ruined, and loved ones were lost. He expected cheers for the demon’s death, not solemn smiles and gracious thanks. Even Linus, always the realist of Ari’s counsel, did not speak to Roland of righteousness or cold pleasure for the death of their attacker, but curiosity at the happenings.

I’ve seen cold-blooded, aye, and that girl was no killer. It’d tear her up inside to do what we saw.

Roland nodded. There are a few things that seemed quite odd to me. The fire, for one—

Ari left before they could finish their conversation.

THAT NIGHT, ARI SAT a quiet dinner alone. He would become re-accustomed to the silence and the vastness of his home, he told himself. It was really too large and empty for him. How had he borne it before?

I should have built a smaller home for myself. When Father passed, things were always too quiet. And now, without—

A knock on the front door broke the thought. He raised his head from his plate, pushed away from the table, and made his way to the front door.

As expected, Roland stood there, his ivory robes aglow in the night.

Come in, Ari said, and led the way back to the kitchen. As he dropped into his seat, Roland took a glance around the room before joining him at the table. How was your talk with Julia?

Roland pursed his lips. He reached across the table and tapped Ari’s plate. It was layered with untouched food, already growing cold. Eat, Lord.

Sighing, Ari took a bite. It was glazed carp, glistening with honey; as soon as it touched his tongue, it was dry and tasteless. He swallowed, took a swig of his ale, and raised his eyebrows at Roland.

Roland sighed. We spoke for a few hours. Her grief lies in her worry for you, Lord.

Of course, as they all do. Ari poked his fish with his fork. But soon they will begin to turn. They will wonder about the future, what I will do to prevent this from happening again.

Roland did not speak for several long moments. Ari forced himself to chew another piece of fish.

The anger she harbors is not placed on Kari, or at least not the one we knew.

Ari snorted. ‘The one we knew’...how can you keep pretending there was more than one?

Roland leaned closer. Did you get near the one who attacked us?

Ari’s brow furrowed. No. I shouted for her, but she ignored me. She stayed well away, out of the range of my arrows. He clenched his fist tightly around his fork; his knuckles whitened. Not...not that I could shoot well, in any case.

And yet, when she reappeared, she came straight for you. She did not flee and hide, did she?

"She...she was acting a part. She wanted to get close to me. She wanted to finish what she started!"

Roland’s eyes were too soft. We both know the ease with which she could have killed any of us from afar, my lord.

Her lightning? Ari chewed his lip. She could hardly call it. She was still learning.

And yet, there were a great many flames brought forth. I heard no thunder and saw no lightning...only the flames.

Ari stiffened. Roland, I can’t talk about this.

We must.

Damn it! Ari yelled. He shoved away from the table and jumped to his feet. I did my duty, I protected us! Why must I relive it?!

Roland’s gaze followed him, ever-patient and calm. Because it is tearing you up, Lord, and this is how we heal our grief. You protected us, yes, but at the cost of something great. You loved her.

A harsh bark of laughter tore from Ari’s mouth. "Yes! And now she is dead. Her body is burned, and her soul can never return. And yet you are here, telling me...what? What are you telling me, Roland? That she did not attack us? You believe her visage was false?"

Roland was so still, composed when his lord could not be. Certainly, a thing to consider. What do we know about magic users?

Ari staggered and grabbed the back of his chair. Roland, I—

Only one element can be learned at a time, Roland answered for him. And—

And each has a sub-skill, Ari snapped. Water, healing. Ground, defensive capabilities. Fire...fire...

He dropped his head into his hands. The Fire Witch.

Fire’s sub-skill is illusory magic, Roland whispered.

No, Roland! No. You can’t tell me...

Others in the village whisper the same sentiment. They remember the woman who used magic flames to attack us, just before Kari’s ‘attack.’

They can’t, Ari rasped, desperate. It can’t be true. How...how could anyone believe different of a demon?

Roland stood from the table. You are afraid, my lord. Not only of your grief, but for the mistake that may have been made. I think...it would be best if we all grieved together.

Ari’s arms shook. Grieve together?

Roland nodded. We will call a meeting tomorrow for all able-bodied residents. We will discuss what has happened. Only then can we begin to heal. Those who have loved and lost need this...that includes you, my lord.

I can’t, Ari wanted to say. He did not want to ponder what-ifs about what had happened. He knew the facts—he had killed Kari, and there had not been another attack since her death.

But the guilt burning inside him was so much. Eventually, it might be too much for him to handle alone. Even before Roland’s musings, part of him questioned it: what was the purpose of Kari returning after attacking? Why did she feign innocence? And why did she come to him so willingly, knowing he could end her life?

He longed for Roland to be wrong. Surely, Kari had come back for a clear shot at him. He’d sent his best warriors and guards away to protect the villagers. Any intelligent demon would know it best to face him alone.

Yet he recalled the confusion in her eyes when he shouted accusations at her. He had known her for a year; she was not such a great actress.

Roland was right. He was running from the possibility of a mistake. The chance that he had taken the life of the girl he loved, and who learned to love him in return.

How? he whispered. How can...

Roland touched his hand. With time and by leaning on one another, my lord.

Ari stared at his carp, a quarter gone, and slowly nodded.

Roland tucked a hand into a pocket of his robes. I found this in the temple, shortly after you moved your father’s portrait. It is fitting you have it now, I think.

He placed a shiny gold ring on the table. With shaking hands, Ari lifted it. It wasn’t unlike the ring he wore when he sealed letters, though while his was engraved with a bow and arrow, this ring had a sword and sun.

My father’s ring.

Roland touched his shoulder. Remember the lessons of your father, Lord Ari, he said, then left with a quiet goodnight.

Wrapped up in his thin sheets, Ari slept fitfully. He woke in a cold sweat several times, sure he would see Kari’s face in the darkness beside him. Each time, he rolled away from her absence with a pained groan. 

UNDER A BRIGHT, CLEAR sky, Ari stood on a makeshift stage beside Revi’s memorial. It was a simple stone carving of wings—to represent a heavenly host, though Ari thought more of fiery birds than he did of angels—around a small garden Ari himself tended to whenever he found the time. It was a meager way to honor the demon who had changed everything; Revi had been the demon to alter the vengeful outlook of a very childish young lord. Though he would have liked for his friend to have a grand send-off, this was all they could offer. Revi’s body had disappeared, so they could not follow the Raziac tradition of burning him.

If not for the weight on his chest, Ari would have smirked at Roland’s gall for calling the meeting to be held at here.

Linus remained by his side while Roland greeted the villagers who crowded around them, some of them staring at the stone carving. Ari tried to smile at every face he met, but it felt more like a grimace. He twisted his father’s ring around his middle finger.

Straighten up, boy, Linus grunted. Ari realized he was slouching. He threw back his shoulders and lifted his chin. Though the heaviness was not dispelled, he breathed a little easier. Better, Linus praised gruffly.

Finally, it seemed everyone in Raziac was gathered. And then, one by one, they spoke.

They talked about their pain. The damages done by the fire were many, and though repairs were being made, no one could restore the lives lost. Grieving wives, husbands, brothers, and sisters, spoke as best as they could through tears. Parents held their children tight. Each sob and trembling word were a pin in Ari’s heart, but he remained stoic. His own tears could be had later.

Others expressed fear of a future attack but were quieted by more who insisted their lord and the demon hunters would do their best to keep them safe.

One young man asked, What about other demons? Do we no longer let them within our borders? Like in my pa’s youth?

As silence fell over them, threatening to smother them all in its speechless panic, Ari spoke.

We will not change our policies. One attack in a decade doesn’t change anything. Demons are not inherently evil—we have seen this for ourselves.

The young man’s lips pursed, but his eyes spoke of reluctant understanding. He nodded.

And on that note, Roland said when no one else spoke, if I may, my lord?

Ari’s throat tightened. Now they would come to the real issue—the circumstances around why the attack happened. He tilted his head for Roland to continue.

We must discuss the...er...larger question that I am sure is on everyone’s mind: We were seemingly attacked, as many of you saw for yourselves, by...Kari Kasente.

A shudder rippled through the crowd, filling the area with a tension Ari couldn’t decipher. He looked at the faces around him, trying to spot the anger and hurt he felt. To his stunning surprise, he saw little of it. Most of his people were confused, uncertain—but not angry.

Ya can’t tell me the lord believes this, Telda spoke from near the back. Her eyes lit up, determined. Tha’ poor girl, attack us? No. It was trickery of a sort, I’m sure.

What trickery? someone else asked, a male Ari couldn’t easily identify. Like magic?

Aye, Telda answered. Anything else. Tha’ girl...she wouldn’a done this.

Ari stared at Telda until her eyes met his. She smiled.

She believed this with everything she was. This woman, who loved Kari too, could not be talked into believing Kari had attacked them.

Does it even matter? another voice spoke, and Ari found a young woman’s haughty face deep within the crowd. Lisanna, a farmer’s daughter. If she did it or not...we can’t change what happened.

Ari looked to Roland, who met his gaze with a solemn expression. Lisanna was right. Even if Kari was innocent—and they had no proof either way—it changed nothing. She was dead.

His heart threatened to rip apart, right in front of all of them. He wanted to scream, to rip at his hair, to fall to the ground.

He managed to contain himself, trembling as he waited for Roland