Demons. Aimee didn’t fight demons. For that matter, she didn’t fight anything. She spent her days sitting at a workbench, carefully constructing the next device she was assigned to make. Yet here she was, heart thudding painfully in her chest and sweat starting to drip off the tip of her nose. On the other side of the wall, she could hear the heavy footsteps of whatever had killed at least a half dozen soldiers.
Something sniffed like an hungry animal hunting prey. Aimee looked nervously ten feet down the wall where the doorway to the other room was. Laying limply in the doorway she saw the grisly torso of a soldier. The slashes of giant claws ran down the left side of the man’s chest. Despite the blood, she could clearly see the dark blue tunic with the image of crossed swords in silver. She wore the same design on her tunic. The dead man’s name was Gaston, one of the men she had came to the town with. Aimee’s felt relief, at least it wasn’t her best friend Karlac. Guilt followed. How could she allow herself to feel relief at the sight of the body of a fellow Imperial Guard member?
Another heavy footstep sounded. The demon on the other side of the wall was moving again. As she moved toward the doorway, Aimee gripped the device in her hand. What appeared to be a rune covered copper tube with a wooden handle, was five years of work for her. It was the most powerful magical construction Aimee had ever Crafted. As perhaps the most talented Crafter in the Empire, that was saying something. Of course, it had never really been tested in the field. Well, it will be now.
Clanking footsteps came from behind her. A man in heavy armor ran her way. He brandished a broad-bladed longsword in one hand. The other arm carried a shield emblazoned with a white sword over a golden circle, the symbol of the Holy Order of the Sword. “Get out of here! This is a matter for the Order!”
The sounds caught the attention of the beast on the other side of the wall. Aimee could hear it start to charge. This idiot might get them both killed. The creature burst into the hallway from the doorway ahead, one massive paw slipping a little on the pool of blood around the mutilated body in the doorway.
Aimee noticed the fangs first. Massive bloody fangs the size of daggers curved down from the beast’s snout. The rest of the creature looked liked a horrible parody of a mange-afflicted hound immensely scaled up in size. Tufts of gray fur mixed raggedly with bare hide studded by tiny bone plates. She could smell it’s fetid breath as it panted. Malevolent yellow eyes fixed on Aimee as the beast regarded her like prey.
The knight from the Order charged forward as Aimee brought up her copper-tubed device. As the man ran in front of her to attack the beast, he blocked her shot. “Clear out!” she shouted.
The demonic hound took care of the matter for her. With surprising quickness, a huge clawed paw slashed at the knight. He managed to raise his shield to take the blow, but the force still slammed him into the wall. Wooden lattice splintered and a deluge of shattered plaster came pouring down as the impact of the man’s armored body destroyed the wall behind him. He did not get back to his feet. Through the fog of plaster dust, the beast’s yellow eyes fixed their murderous gaze on Aimee again.
Aimee lined up the demon’s head through the copper tube and willed the it to unleash its magic as she closed her eyes. Inside the handle, a specially designed matrix crystal released every bit of the pent up magical energy it possessed. The device transformed the surge of mystic energy into lightning. A searing white line connected copper tube to demonic flesh for a fraction of a second.
The lightning flashed so intensely that Aimee could see it through her closed eyelids. A deafening thunderclap shook the walls and sent a rain of plaster down from the ceiling. A noxious smell of burned fur and flesh greeted Aimee as she opened her eyes to see the great beast laying dead before her. Field test complete.
Something else came through the doorway before she managed to take more than a single step toward the armored man. It looked vaguely like a woman, long straggly white hair hung loosely around a face of bone white skin mottled with pale green. Dirty and ragged clothes revealed more of the mottled skin beneath the tears. The demon’s eyes transfixed Aimee. Solid black eyes with no whites gazed unblinkingly at her. Aimee froze as she looked into those pitch black eyes.
“Where is it?” the voice hissed at Aimee. With her ears still ringing, Aimee realized that she couldn’t be hearing the demon, the voice was in her head.
“Where is it, Human?” the voice was louder, burrowing into her mind. As Aimee heard the voice in her head, the creature walked toward her. There was a sword in its hand.
“Where is it, Aimee?”
The sound of her name brought Aimee back into the moment. She had no great skill with a sword, but at least she had some training. Aimee dropped her copper device, and stepped backwards while she put her hand on the handle of her slim sword. With a shaky hand, she pulled the blade from its sheath. Unfortunately, she tried to move the sword up defensively before the tip cleared the sheath. The sword clattered to the floor at Aimee’s feet.
“You don’t know,” the voice stated as the demonic woman brought up her sword to strike.
From behind the creature, Aimee saw the knight had starting to get to his feet.
“I do know where it is.” Aimee said, hoping to distract the demon woman.
“You lie.”
Aimee managed to jump to the side and avoid the first swing. That was all she needed as the knight charged toward the demon woman. It turned toward him too late. He brought his broad bladed sword down in an instantly lethal blow that nearly split the creature’s torso in two.
The knight loomed over Aimee. At all of five feet three inches, Aimee was quite used to people having to look down to talk to her. He was handsome with a strong chin, bright blue eyes, and shoulder length blond hair. However, the handsome face regarded her with a look of distinct annoyance.
“What are you doing in here?” he demanded.
Aimee fixed him with a glare and pointed to the symbol on her chest. “I’m a member of the Imperial Guard. There’s a Guardsman in here who needs help. I’m doing my duty! The Guard didn’t get called to this town to just stand around!”
“I think you are a little late for helping out.” The knight pointed to Gaston’s body.
“Someone else, obviously!”
Two more men came running toward them. Aimee recognized the first name as Gerard, a fellow member of the Imperial Guard. The other man had dark hair and wore the same heavy armor as the knight presently glaring at Aimee.
“What was that boom, Aimee?” asked Gerard.
Aimee reached down to retrieve her copper device. “That came from this.”
“One of your constructions?”
“Don’t tell the captain,” said Aimee. “Gerard, Karlac is in here someplace. I heard him call out.”
“He’s outside Aimee, he blasted out a window and ran out of the manor.”
Aimee’s mouth fell open. “You mean he’s not even in here?”
“Here is your sword, you seemed to have… dropped it.” The blond knight handed her the slender weapon.
Aimee clipped the gun to her belt and took the sword from the knight while fixing him with another glare.
“A Gihaft,” said the dark-haired knight as he looked down at the white and green demon woman. “Always a bad omen, Martin.”
“Perhaps Edmund, but for certain it is a good reason for the Guard to leave this to the Order. Demons are our domain.”
Aimee pointed to the body of the great demonic hound. “That thing–”
“Vargat,” interjected Edmund.
“Thanks. That Vargat would have eaten you if it wasn’t for me!”
“I was merely knocked off my feet, I would have been fine. You don’t have the training to deal with demons. First bit of advice, don’t drop your sword when facing a Gihaft!”
“I’d like to see what you would do with that voice drilling its way into your head!”
Edmund moved quickly to change the conversation by turning to Aimee. “You said there was a voice in your head?”
“Yeah, she kept asking me where it was. She knew my name.”
“Enchantment,” said Edmund. “She must have been enchanting your mind. Do you know what the Gihaft was looking for?”
Aimee shook her head, “No idea.”
A bang from elsewhere in the manner brought all of them to attention. The bang came again, like someone hammering on stone.
“Edmund and I will handle this,” said Martin as he moved quickly toward the doorway to hunt down the noise. Edmund followed him.
After a beat, Gerard unsheathed his sword and moved after the knights. “The job of the Guard isn’t to watch the Order protect our people.”
Aimee twisted the ring she wore on her left hand. She wasn’t much of a fighter and her device was now useless with a completely discharged crystal. Her captain would probably want her to get out of danger. Nonetheless, she was still a member of the Imperial Guard. Sword in hand, Aimee followed after Gerard.
Another loud crunching impact sounded through the manor as Aimee stepped around the dead body of the Vargat and Gaston. The room beyond appeared to be a parlor in a state of chaos. Broken bits of furniture littered the room along with ripped paintings and some chunks of plaster from the walls. Dead soldiers from the town militia were scattered around the room. The floor was slick from blood.
A cracked mirror along one wall reflected back the gaze from her hazel eyes. Her brown hair shoulder-length hair was damp with sweat and strands of it clung to her heavily freckled face. A snowy layer of plaster dust covered her.
“In the other room!” Aimee heard Martin shouting at the others.
Aimee hurried to catch up. Already, she heard the clash of metal. She ran through the doorway into a dining room. Martin and Edmund were both fighting creatures that looked like people with heavily scabbed and wrinkled gray skin. They had ragged clothing like the demon woman and were armed with swords. A third ran out from the other doorway of the room and Gerard met him in battle. Aimee charged over to help Gerard.
The creature Gerard fought blocked a blow, holding the flat of his blade in his off hand. He shoved away Gerard’s sword and smashed the pommel of his sword into the side of Gerard’s head. Gerard crumpled to the ground. The creature raised his sword in one hand to chop down and finish Gerard. Aimee surged forward and just managed to get her sword in the way. The creature’s blade slid off of hers to strike a toppled chair. With its other hand, the creature punched Aimee hard on the side of her face.
Aimee fell hard to the floor, tasting blood in her mouth. Once again, she had lost her sword. She rolled onto her back, expecting to see the scabbed creature about ready to skewer her. However, her opponent was now fighting Martin. Aimee looked around desperately and finally spotted her sword nearby. She lunged for it and started to get to her feet when something heavy smashed into her back. Again, she hit the floor hard.
The thing that had hit her turned out to be the body of her foe. Martin had run the creature through and it fell right where Aimee had been lunging. Aimee twisted herself over while Martin moved the creature off of her. “Are you okay?”
“Never better,” said Aimee as she wiped her blood off her chin. The inside of her cheek and lip had been cut, but she was relieved to find no missing teeth as she probed the inside of her mouth with her tongue.
Edmund looked down at the creature he had just killed. “A Dral, that’s at least a two dozen in the town so far. Dark days.”
Martin offered a hand to help her up, but Aimee refused it, getting to her feet on her own. Gerard was sitting up, but he didn’t look good. Blood flowed freely from his head, covering the side of his face. Aimee hastily removed her pack and rummaged for a length of bandaging cloth. She wrapped the wound carefully. “He’ll need to see a healer,” she said.
Edmund leaned over to look at Gerard. “I’ll help him.” Carefully, Edmund pulled Gerard to his feet.
“The kitchen is through here,” Martin pointed to the doorway opposite the one they had entered. “There is an exit to the outside there.”
Martin led the way. Gerard was shaky, but he managed to walk with help from Edmund. Aimee trailed behind. The kitchen was in shambles. Fragments of earthenware bowls and containers crunched under the soles of Aimee’s boots. Bags of flour had been torn to shreds, leaving a layer of powder over the destruction. Edmund guided Gerard through the devastated room toward the door.
Martin stopped to examine the remains of a smashed brick oven. He picked up a heavy hammer next to the broken bricks. “The drals were smashing this oven. That must be what we heard. Why would they want to destroy an oven?”
Aimee examined the pile of bricks were the oven once was. She picked up a couple of broken bricks and felt the rough stone in her hands. “Demons are your domain, why don’t you tell me why they did this?”
“Maybe they were looking for something.”
“It’s a good thing you’re here, Martin. We Guard members could have never put that together.”
Another Order member ran in through the doorway leading to the outside. His armor was splattered with blood and he was panting to catch his breath. He looked young and a little shaky. Aimee suspected that he probably hadn’t seen fighting before. She probably looked much the same to him; the adrenaline rush from the battle still had her on edge.
The young knight addressed Martin, “Sir Halgard, more men are coming. We heard what sounded like a thunderclap. I believe the rest of the town is secure.”
“That’s good news. Tell the commander that we still need to secure this manor. We’ve only been in a few rooms and found a Gihaft, Drals, and a Vargat,” Martin told the young knight. “I’ll be along in a few minutes, I’m trying to figure out what these demons were doing.”
The young knight’s eyes opened wide. “You killed a Vargat by yourself?”
Martin looked over at Aimee, hesitated, and finally said, “she killed the Vargat.” Aimee smiled brightly at the young knight and waved. His eyes opened wider still.
“Just go tell the commander, Darvell.”
Martin returned to digging through the bricks and rubble as Darvell left. Aimee joined in, sifting though the loose and broken bricks. She had absolutely no idea what they were supposed to be looking for. One by one she moved bricks into a neat pile next to her, getting them out of the way. On the verge of declaring this pointless, she picked up a brick that felt…wrong. The texture was too smooth and the heft was different compared to the other bricks. Aimee moved from kneeling to sitting down, legs crossed. She held the strange brick in her lap, examining it carefully.
Everybody had a magical talent of some sort, though for most it was little more than a spark. Aimee’s talent was Crafting, the making and using of mystic artifacts. Her talent was more of a raging fire than a spark. Back in the academy, her mentor, Lord Morgen, had told her she was the most talented human Crafter he had ever encountered. Using that considerable talent, Aimee ran her hands along the brick, probing for the signs of mystic Craft.
She could sense the traces of Crafting in the brick. She concentrated as she closed her eyes. Fleeting glimmers of another person’s hands appeared in her mind. The hands were gently working magic, Crafting the object. Aimee reversed the motions and felt the magic unravel warmly under her hands. A little brick-shaped metal chest rested in her hands when she had finished. It had been well concealed, but not well enough to fool Aimee.
“I think I found it.”