‘How’s that?’ Renna asked. She waited for his eyes to flick to the side as he decided how to evade the question. Love him or no, she would smack the top of his bald head if they did.
But Arlen looked right at her, his eyes dancing. ‘Gonna show you tonight.’ He reached out, caressing the wards of vision stained in circles around her eyes. ‘Gonna need your night eyes to understand.’
Renna took his hands and rose to her feet. She backed away, pulling him along until her legs struck the bed. They sank into the feathered mattress, and kisses quickly turned to caresses. Blood pounded in her ears, a thrumming that made her feel as alive as she did in the night.
The sun was setting as they came back to the taproom for supper. After they had eaten, Arlen rose and rummaged behind the bar. He reappeared a moment later with a heavy clay jug. ‘Demons like to rise in the fields out back. What say we have a drink while we wait for ’em?’
They walked together in the gloaming, watching the lavender sky darken. The Wellers’ fields were south of the town proper and ran for acres, mostly potato, barley, and sugarcane. The fields hadn’t been tended in years, but a wild patchwork crop still clung tenaciously to the land. There were wardposts at regular intervals throughout the fields. Most were in poor repair – worthless, but here and there she saw fresh ones, their painted wards still crisp and clear. Her eyes ran over the posts, finding the pattern.
‘You made this place a maze,’ she said. ‘Like the one in the desert you told me about.’
Arlen nodded, finding a clear spot and sitting. ‘Good for cutting demons off from the horde, and a moment’s succour is never more than a step away.’ He took the heavy jug and filled two tiny clay cups with clear liquid.
‘They have a spirit in Krasia that the Sharum sometimes drink before going into battle. Call it couzi. Say it gives a warrior courage.’ He held a cup to her. ‘I’ve found poteen to have a similar effect.’
‘Thought you said the Sharum embrace their fear,’ Renna said, sitting down next to him with the jug in between.
‘Most do, and there ent no better way,’ Arlen said. ‘But embracing leaves a body cold. Don’t want to be cold when I’m in a place like Sweetwell. Want to be mad as the Core itself.’
Renna nodded. That was something she could understand. She ignored the tiny cups, sticking her finger through the jug handle. She braced the container on her arm and brought it to her lips with practised smoothness, taking a long pull.
The poteen was as strong as Arlen warned, and she coughed a bit, but it was sweeter than her father’s brew, and the ball of fire that struck her belly soon calmed and spread warmth throughout her limbs.
Arlen dropped the cups, taking the jug and pulling as she had. They passed it back and forth until the light failed completely and the telltale mists began to rise, heralding the corelings. The mists began to coalesce into field demons, sleek and low to the ground, prowling on all fours like lions, faster than anything alive. A few wood demons appeared as well, the larger demons taking longer to form.
Renna got to her feet, swaying unsteadily for a moment before she regained her equilibrium. She moved towards a coalescing wood demon, carrying the much-lightened jug loosely with one finger.
She glared at the demon as she waited for it to materialize, thinking of the night she had spent locked in her farm’s outhouse, screaming as demons rattled at the door. She thought of the empty buildings, and the poisoned well behind her.
She took one last pull of poteen and stoppered the jug. With her free hand, she reached into the pouch at her waist.
At last the demon solidified, opening its mouth to roar at her. The orifice was great enough to swallow her entire head, with row upon row of pointed teeth.
Before it could let out a sound, Renna flicked her hand at it, tossing an acorn into the gaping maw. The heat ward she had painted on the acorn activated when it made contact with the demon’s tongue, exploding the nut with a flash and bang.
At that very moment, Renna spat poteen into the demon’s face.
She stepped out of the way as its head exploded in flames. The demon fell to the ground, thrashing as its barklike armour burned.
There was a laugh, and Renna turned to see Arlen clapping his hands at her. ‘Nice work, but I’ll do you one better.’
Renna smirked, and crossed her arms, stepping over to the safety of a wardpost. ‘Like to see you try, Arlen Bales.’
Arlen bowed. A field demon turned solid a few feet away from him, bigger than a nightwolf. It growled and tamped down, ready to pounce.
Arlen crossed his arms the same as Renna, standing his ground. His hood was down – he almost never put it up any more – but he still wore the rest of his day robes, covering the powerful wards tattooed all over his body. Field demons were fast as the wind, and without the protection of his wards, it seemed the demon would knock him down and savage him. Renna’s hand dropped to her knife, and she gripped it tightly.
But the field demon passed through Arlen as if he had been made of smoke. His body swirled where the creature passed through it, returning after a moment to sharp clarity.
Arlen took a brief bow as the demon recovered. ‘Nothing can touch me in the night now, Ren. Not if I see it coming.’
The field demon hit the ground and turned instantly, leaping back at him. Renna expected it to pass through him again, but this time Arlen flowed around the attack faster than her eye could see, wrapping an arm around the coreling’s neck and sharply arresting its momentum. He quickstepped around the demon’s back to avoid the flailing claws, maintaining the headlock with one arm. He reached his free hand around to draw a heat ward on the demon’s chest with his bare finger.
The line he traced came alive with fire as he completed the symbol, and he let go his hold and backed away as the demon was consumed in flames.
Renna gaped, but Arlen wasn’t finished with the lesson. He strode towards another field demon, provoking an attack. The demon obliged, roaring and coming at him with claws leading.
‘Of course, if I don’t see it coming in time to stop it …’ Arlen was knocked back several steps and grunted as the demon’s claws struck home, tearing into his abdomen.
Renna gasped as blood arced through the air. She pulled her knife and darted forward to interpose herself between Arlen and the demon.
But Arlen straightened and stopped her up short with a raised hand. The demon pounced again, but once more Arlen blew apart like smoke.
When he re-formed, there was no sign of his injury. Even his robe was mended. ‘… given a moment to catch my wits, I can heal just about anything that doesn’t kill me.’
The demon came at him a third time, but this time Arlen drew a quick warding in the air, and the demon was thrown back as if kicked by a mule before it ever got close to him. His new power seemed limitless.
But as the demon struck the ground several yards away, Arlen staggered in his bow. To Renna’s warded eyes, he had been bright with magic a moment before. Now the glow of his wards was noticeably dimmer.
Arlen caught the look she gave him, and nodded. ‘I draw wards on a demon, the coreling powers them itself. I draw them in the air, they draw their magic from me, instead.’
The demon came back at him a fourth time, but this time Arlen seized it by the throat and pinned it to the ground in a sharusahk hold. As he held it down, Renna could see the wards on his hands throbbing with power, and his glow began to return even as the coreling’s dimmed. The demon shrieked and thrashed, but Arlen held it as easily as a man might hold down a small child. The power in his hands built in intensity until the demon’s throat collapsed. With a flex of his muscles, Arlen tore its head clean off.