“If you should hold the devil, hold him well,
He hardly will be caught a second time”
Ernodal hummed tunelessly as he knelt in the soft earth in front of the blueberry bushes. His stained fingers lightly skimmed the remaining crop but they were several days away from being ripe. The small pile in his basket would be enough for now. Skipping lightly to his feet he turned around and almost walked straight into the two elves who had ghosted up behind him unheard. The closest elf hissed as he danced backwards to avoid being knocked over.
‘Watch where you blunder, half breed!’
‘My apologies Yannoth. I didn’t hear you approach.’ Ernodal grinned, partly to diffuse the tension but mostly because he knew how much his perpetual good humour confused the angry elf.
‘Of course you didn’t. Some of us can move with a degree of grace.’ Yannoth glowered as he smoothed down the navy and turquoise feathers which covered his leather jerkin. When he had preened himself to his satisfaction he turned to the elf beside him.
‘There is little of his father in him. His aspect is that of his human mother.’
Yannoth’s voice lost the harsh edge it always had when he spoke to Ernodal, but he still made the word ‘human’ sound like a curse.
The second elf was dressed in a simple white robe and his skin had the slightly translucent sheen that came with several centuries. He said nothing for a long time, seemingly content to just stare at Ernodal with blank eyes. Long moments passed as the trio stood there – Yannoth glaring, Ernodal increasingly uncomfortable and the old elf impassive. Ernodal started to say something to break the silence but the old elf interrupted him.
“Your father saved my life several decades before you were born. When was the last time you saw him?’
‘Over five years ago. He was here for a month or so’.
Ernodal didn’t add that this was the longest period he’d ever spent with his father.
Once again the old elf said nothing. Then his pale face flushed and he broke into a sprint away to the left. Nonplussed, Ernodal turned to Yannoth but the other elf was already racing in pursuit… towards a patch of rising smoke. In the distance the forest was burning.
Gasping for breath and nursing a stitch in his side after, Ernodal staggered out of the cover of the trees and into a nightmare. A huge pillar of crimson fire blazed in the centre of the clearing, spitting clouds of sulphurous yellow smoke which blotted out the sky. Misshapen hybrid creatures lurched out of the flames, screeching and hooting as they threw themselves at panic-stricken elves. Armed warriors were flooding into the clearing and charging at the monsters to give others time to flee. Yannoth was a blur of daggers and twirling feathers as he slashed at a hulking abomination with four hairy arms and the twisting body of a serpent. A volley of arrows ripped into a flock of small flying monsters, the rest of the flock scattering and swooping low to peck and scratch at unprotected faces. A bolt of incandescent lighting blew apart an enormous piglike creature as it loped towards a cluster of elves. The old elf soared over the devastation and sent another cracking bolt into the heart of the fire.
Crouching low to the ground Ernodal started to circle around the edge of the clearing. Gorge rose in his throat but he forced himself to keep moving on trembling legs. He could see other elves darting in to help the wounded to safety and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t try to do the same. Through a twisting gap in the yellow smog he saw a tall elf staggering drunkenly using his spear as a crutch. Whimpering with terror Ernodal dashed forward. He managed to get one arm around the wounded fighter and tried to prop him up, but the elf gave a long shuddering gasp and slumped forward, showing the horrific wounds where his back had been flayed to the bone. Ernodal fell to his knees and emptied his stomach in long violent spasms. When the cramps stopped he was trembling and covered with cold sweat but he forced himself to reach down and take up the fallen spear.
Swirling winds twisted the pillar of fire as the ancient elf floating above the carnage chanted a new spell. The remaining demons faltered in and tried to cover whatever hodgepodge eyes and ears they had. Disoriented and confused they were suddenly easy prey for the vengeful elves. As the last demon was put down the roaring bonfire spluttered and snuffed out, leaving a circle of blacked earth. In the centre of the charred ground two figures were waltzing slowly inside a ring of mutilated bodies. One of the dancers was hidden in a black cloak and hood, the wind outlining stick thin limbs beneath the flapping fabric. The other dancer was wrong in a more fundamental way than the other demons. This one was painful to look at and its form seemed to alter as it moved. One moment it was a wisp of red smoke coiling around the figure in black, the next it was a towering brutish mass of bleeding sinew and exposed muscle. Neither paid the horrified onlookers any more attention than the seared earth or scorched corpses beneath their feet.
Yannoth was already sprinting towards the dancers, daggers flashing. With a roar the elven warriors charged to support him. Slightly slower than the rest Ernodal had only taken a few steps when Yannoth crossed the ring of corpses, so he was further back when the ground erupted in a spray of green mist. Yannoth toppled backward foaming at the mouth as the poisonous vapours rolled outward and swallowed the oncoming elves. Warriors dropped their weapons and clutched desperately at streaming eyes and swelling throats, battlecries becoming moans of horror. Ernodal staggered as the smog coiled around him, scalding his exposed skin. Fighting panic he stumbled blindly, eyes streaming with tears. His foot caught on a slumped body and he toppled out into a patch of breathable air at centre of the circle.
The demon and the hooded figure were writhing together in an obscene embrace, frantic grunting growing louder and faster as the moans of the dying elves started to fade. Weakened by fright and nausea Ernodal stabbed clumsily with the spear. It was a clumsy strike, driven more by disgust than a desire to kill, but the tip punched though the hooded figure as if there was nothing beneath the fabric. A piercing scream from the black robe was drowned out by a bellow of rage which sent Ernodal sprawling to the ground clutching at his bleeding ears. As the hooded figure convulsed a pair of furious yellow eyes fixed on Ernodal and pinned him to the spot. His last impression was of an enormous crimson figure advancing on him as the smog coiled round and he backed out.
Yannoth was staring at him with angry yellow eyes. Ernodal tried to grin but he felt his face crack and split in two. He tried to hold his broken skull together but fire poured out of the wounds and burned his hands.
‘The mongrel carries the taint of the Fiend. It would be a kindness to kill him before he wakes.’
‘The young half human saved us all. I’ll not see him slain for bravery.’
The dull pain in his head brought Ernodal slowly back to consciousness. He tried to raise a hand but he was tangled in soft cloth. Sunlight stung his eyes as he tried to prop himself up but a gentle hand pressed him down. The old elf in white was kneeling by his side.
‘We do not have much time. What you did back there was very gallant. You have saved many lives, but there is a cost to your actions. The others have left this place and you cannot follow them, nor can you remain among us. When you interrupt a ritual such as that the magic can be released in uncontrollable ways. Somehow you have absorbed a fragment of the demonic power. It may fade in time, but I fear that it will grow and consume you. Elves will see this. They will shun you or kill you on sight.
You may be able to break this curse. Amongst your mother’s people there are those who have been reckless enough to study these matters. Travel to the human lands, to Vicetina, speak with the scholar of demon lore. They may know of some cure other than death.
I am sorry Ernodal. I wish I could do more for you but this matter is more important than any of us. I must warn the other settlements what has happened here, what nearly happened here. Rest now. I will be gone when you wake…’
Ernodal knelt in the mud, eating the last of the blueberries from the bush. He’d liked baking because it gave him a chance to think, a chance to try things for himself. No one had ever said so, but baking was one of the things he was allowed to learn as a half human. No master would ever deign to teach him music or magic, field craft or swordsmanship. His human blood meant that he could never truly be accepted. He hadn’t been ashamed of this or held it against the others. He was what he was, they were being true to themselves in the way they acted. So he’d baked and cooked and thought about what he would do when the time came to leave. He’d been happy here and in no rush to leave this community of creative and passionate and snobbish elves.
Now those elves were dead or gone, chased out or torn apart by demons. And Ernodal was marked in a different way. He could feel the demon with the yellow eyes like he could feel the sun or the pull of gravity. It was faint and distant but there was a link between them, a red mote in his vision if he turned to look at it, a prickling in the back of his mind if he turned away. And presumably the demon could sense him too.
The old elf had advised him to look for a way to break this curse, but Ernodal felt in his bones that this wasn’t the right path. The demon would hunt him forever whether the bond was broken or not because Ernodal had taken – was still taking – something from that monster. Ernodal concentrated on the link and felt something into him, pressure building in his head and sparks flickering at his fingertips. He could take power from this. He could stop others from being hurt.
Ernodal finished the last berry, turned to face the link and gave it his biggest, most annoying grin. He’d taught himself to cook and bake, learning as he went. Elves always said the best hunters were self-taught. Time to see if you could teach yourself to hunt demons.
