The Warded Man

Everyone froze. It wasn’t clear that Steave had felt the punch at all. He broke the sudden silence with a laugh, casually shoving Erny and sending him flying into the common room.

“You ladies settle yur differences in private,” Steave said with a wink, pulling the kitchen door shut as Leesha’s mother rounded on her once more.

Leesha wept quietly in the back room of her father’s shop, daubing gently at her cuts and bruises. Had she the proper herbs, she could have done more, but cold water and cloth were all she had.

She had fled into the shop right after her ordeal, locking the doors from the inside, and ignoring even the gentle knocks of her father. When the wounds were clean and the deepest cuts bound, Leesha curled up on the floor, shaking with pain and shame.

“You’ll marry Gared the day you bleed,” Elona had promised, “or we’ll do this every day until you do.”

Leesha knew she meant it, and knew Gared’s rumor would have many people taking her mother’s side and insisting they wed, ignoring Leesha’s bruises as they had many times before.

I won’t do it, Leesha promised herself. I’ll give myself to the night first.

Just then, a cramp wracked her guts. Leesha groaned, and felt dampness on her thighs. Terrified, she swabbed herself with a clean cloth, praying fervently, but there, like a cruel joke of the Creator, was blood.

Leesha shrieked. She heard an answering call from the house.

There was a pounding at the door. “Leesha, are you all right?” her father called.

Leesha didn’t answer, staring at the blood in horror. Was it only two days ago she had been praying for it to come? Now she looked at it as if it had come from the Core.

“Leesha, open the door this instant, or you’ll have night to pay!” her mother screeched.

Leesha ignored her.

“If you don’t listen to yur mother and open this door before I count to ten, Leesha, I swear I will break it down!” Steave boomed.

Fear gripped Leesha as Steave began to count. She had no doubt he could and would splinter the heavy wooden door with a single blow. She ran to the outer door, throwing it open.

It was almost dark. The sky was deep purple, and the last sliver of sun would dip below the horizon in mere minutes.

“Five!” Steave called. “Four! Three!”

Leesha sucked in her breath and ran from the house.





CHAPTER 6

THE SECRETS OF FIRE

319 AR





LEESHA LIFTED HER SKIRTS HIGH and ran for all she was worth, but it was over a mile to Bruna’s hut, and she knew deep down she could never make it in time. Her family’s cries rang out behind her, the sound muted by the pounding of her heart and the thud of her feet.

There was a sharp stitch in her side, and her back and thighs were on fire from Elona’s belt. She stumbled, and scraped her hands catching herself. She forced herself upright, ignoring the pain and driving forward on pure will.

Halfway to the Herb Gatherer, the light faded, and the new night beckoned the demons from the Core. Dark mists began to rise, coalescing into harsh alien forms.

Leesha did not want to die. She knew that now; too late. But even if she wished to turn back, home was farther away now than Bruna’s hut, and there was nothing in between. Erny had purposefully built his house away from the others, after complaints about the smell of his chemicals. She had no choice but to go on, heading toward Bruna’s hut at the woods’ edge, where the wood demons gathered in force.

A few corelings swiped at her as she passed, but they were still insubstantial, and found no purchase. She felt cold as their claws passed through her breast, as if she had been touched by a ghost, but there was no pain, and she did not slow.

There were no flame demons this close to the woods. Wood demons killed flame demons on sight. Firespit could set a wood demon alight, even if normal fire could not. A wind demon solidified in front of her, but Leesha dodged around it, and the creature’s spindly legs were not equipped to pursue her afoot. It shrieked at her as she ran on.

She glimpsed a light ahead; the lantern that hung by Bruna’s front door. She put on a last burst of speed, crying out, “Bruna! Bruna, please open your door!”

There was no reply, and the door remained shut, but the way was clear, and she dared to think she might make it.

But then an eight-foot wood demon stepped in her path.

And hope died.

The demon roared, showing rows of teeth like kitchen knives. It made Steave look puny by comparison, all thick twisted sinew covered by knobbed, barklike armor.

Leesha drew a ward in the air before her, silently praying that the Creator grant her a quick death. Tales said that demons consumed the soul as well as the body. She supposed she was about to find out.

The demon stalked toward her, closing the gap steadily, waiting to see which way she would try to run. Leesha knew she should do just that, but even had she not been paralyzed with fear, there was nowhere to run. The coreling stood between her and the only hope of succor.

There was a creak as Bruna’s front door opened, spilling more light into the yard. The demon turned as the old hag shuffled into view.

“Bruna!” Leesha cried. “Stay behind the wards! There’s a wood demon in the yard!”

“My eyes aren’t what they used to be, dearie,” Bruna replied, “but I’m not about to miss an ugly beast like that.”

She took another step forward, crossing her wards. Leesha screamed as the demon roared and launched itself toward the old woman.

Bruna stood her ground as the demon charged, dropping to all fours and moving with terrifying speed. She reached into her shawl, and pulled forth a small object, touching it to the flame of the lantern by the door. Leesha saw it catch fire.

The demon was nearly upon her when Bruna drew back her arm and threw. The object burst apart, covering the wood demon in liquid fire. The blaze lit up the night, and even from yards away, Leesha felt the flash of heat on her face.

The demon screamed, its momentum lost as it fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt in a desperate attempt to extinguish itself. The fire clung to it tenaciously, leaving the coreling thrashing and howling on the ground.

“Best come inside, Leesha,” Bruna advised as it burned, “lest you catch a chill.”

Leesha sat wrapped in one of Bruna’s shawls, staring at the steam rising off tea she had no desire to drink. The wood demon’s cries had gone on a long time before reducing to a whimper and fading away. She imagined the smoldering ruin in the yard, and thought she might retch.

Bruna sat nearby in her rocking chair, humming softly as she deftly worked a pair of knitting needles. Leesha could not understand her calm. She felt she might never be calm again.

The old Herb Gatherer had examined her wordlessly, grunting occasionally as she salved and bandaged Leesha’s wounds, few of which, it was clear, had come from her flight. She had also shown Leesha how to wad and insert clean cloth to stem the flow of blood between her legs, and warned her to change it frequently.

But now Bruna sat back as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, the clicks of her knitting and the crackle of the fire the only sounds in the room.

“What did you do to that demon?” Leesha asked, when she could stand it no longer.

“Liquid demonfire,” Bruna said. “Difficult to make. Very dangerous. But it’s the only thing I know that can stop a wood demon. Woodies are immune to normal flames, but liquid demonfire burns as hot as firespit.”

“I didn’t know anything could kill a demon,” Leesha said.

“I told you before, girl, that Herb Gatherers guard the science of the old world,” Bruna said. She grunted and spat on the floor. “A scant few of us, anyway. I may be the last to know that infernal recipe.”

“Why not share it?” Leesha said. “We could be free of the demons forever.”

Bruna cackled. “Free?” she asked. “Free to burn the village to the ground, perhaps. Free to set the woods on fire. No heat known can do more than tickle a flame demon, or give a rock demon pause. No fire can burn higher than a wind demon can soar, or set a lake or pond alight to reach a water demon.”

“But still,” Leesha pressed, “what you did tonight shows how useful it could be. You saved my life.”

Bruna nodded. “We keep the knowledge of the old world for the day it will be needed again, but that knowledge comes with a great responsibility. If the histories of the ancient wars of man tell us anything, it’s that men cannot be trusted with the secrets of fire.

“That’s why Herb Gatherers are always women,” she went on. “Men cannot hold such power without using it. I’ll sell thunder-sticks and festival crackers to Smitt, dearly, but I won’t tell him how they’re made.”

“Darsy’s a woman,” Leesha said, “but you never taught her, either.”

Bruna snorted. “Even if that cow was smart enough to mix the chemics without setting herself on fire, she’s practically a man in her thinking. I’d no sooner teach her to brew demonfire or flame powder than I would Steave.”

“They’re going to come looking for me tomorrow,” Leesha said.

Bruna pointed at Leesha’s cooling tea. “Drink,” she ordered. “We’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes.”

Leesha did as she was told, noting the sour taste of tampweed and the bitterness of skyflower as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Distantly, she was aware of dropping her cup.

Morning brought pain with it. Bruna put stiffroot in Leesha’s tea to dull the ache of her bruises and the cramps that clutched her abdomen, but the mixture played havoc with her senses. She felt as if she were floating above the cot she lay upon, and yet her limbs felt leaden.

Erny arrived not long after dawn. He burst into tears at the sight of her, kneeling by the cot and clutching her tightly. “I thought I’d lost you,” he sobbed.

Leesha reached out weakly, running her fingers through his thinning hair. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered.

“I should have stood up to your mother long ago,” he said.

“That’s undersaid,” Bruna grunted from her knitting. “No man should let his wife walk over him so.”