Jonis, Rowan Erlking [first e reader txt] 📗

“Are you really a demon?”

Shrugging, Jonis decided it was best to reply. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so? Either you are or you aren’t. I saw you jump from that demon chain on stage. We all did.” The boy peered derisively at Jonis’s wrinkled jacket. “You look human except for your eyes. Why are they blue? What demon things can you do?”

“Hey! Leave that soldier alone!” a father shouted, coming towards them.

“I’m just asking questions,” the young man snapped back, glaring defiantly at his father. “He said ‘any questions?’ Well, I have some.” The boy looked back to Jonis. “And I want to know.”

“Quit prying and let the man go on his way,” the boy’s father said, reaching out for him.

“Man? He’s younger than me!” the boy said, pulling back from his dad. Then he looked at Jonis. “Aren’t you? I’m seventeen. How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” Jonis replied, blinking up at him. He prepared to retreat, if he had to.

Even the father stared. “Fourteen? That young?”

“I’m almost fifteen, if it will make you feel better,” Jonis said. He then took a breath and looked back to the teenager. “As for your questions, if a Cordril is a demon, then I am one. My eyes are blue because I was born that way. As for what I can do….” Jonis smirked and took a step back from them, glancing at the concerned father, “You don’t want to know.”

The father reached out for his son again. “Come on. Let’s go. Leave him alone.”

His son would not budge. “How come you are allowed in the Brein Amon army then? No demon has ever been allowed in the army before.”

Losing his playful smile, Jonis felt like groaning at the ignorance of the locals. Besides, he really wanted to go have that bath. His skin was starting to itch. “That’s not true. Several of my ancestors fought for the Brein Amon army in the war against the Sky Children. As for the rest, I don’t know myself. I can only assume that the Patriarch of Brein Amon has simply accepted me. I suppose he has some use for me.”

“Because you know magic,” one of the other boys said. His friends looked to him.

Bowing to the perceptive boy in acknowledgement, Jonis replied with a knowing smile, “Maybe. I do know that is why they sent me here. They knew I could handle a plague. I just wonder if they realized it was as bad as it really was.”

The boys’ father successfully drew the boys away now, whispering for them to leave the Cordril be.

Jonis took that as a cue to continue to the bathhouse.

He crossed the ruined remains of the hospital, peering at the blackened rubble before him. Kicking the charred rubble with his feet, he stepped through. The stone from one wall still stood like a smeared black tortured thing. The steps remained, though the ground was covered in broken glass and bones. Jonis about slipped on an old shoe buckle as he tried to get through, but he caught his hand on a bent-up brass bed frame that was half buried under stone and burnt wood. Removing his hand, Jonis stared at the black smear, then glanced at the handprint he left of the bar. 

“Great.” Jonis frowned, attempting to rub off the soot from his glove with no luck.

Raising his eyes to see if any one was watching him, since everyone else skirted around the ruins as if the dead would come back to eat them—Jonis noticed a gathering of a few men next to a black horse drawn carriage on the far side of the street. It was along the main thoroughfare. Among them, he recognized a familiar stout figure. The man wore a blue suit coat with fashionable tails and pearl buttons. A velvet riding cloak with gold tassels and ropes, swathed his shoulders, showing he was someone important—the patriarch of Ladis. A flashier man than the patriarch of Jonis’s home town.

The man was checking his pocket watch, while alternately gazing up at the sky as if to comment on the weather. Most of the other men with the patriarch, Jonis did not know—except one. The city planner. He was a lean sort of man, rodent-faced, with a pointy nose and a pair of newly crafted spectacles pinching just on the ridge with a chain to keep them from falling off entirely. He was also checking his watch. Then he looked straight at the ruined hospital. Despite his obviously poor eyesight, he didn’t miss seeing Jonis.

Speaking softly to the patriarch, the city planner made a small gesture with his wrist. At first with a flicker of surprise, the patriarch looked up. He hastily tried to mask the sneer on his face.

“Ah, boy! I mean, Private. You are early. And look at the state of your clothes. Have you not bathed yet? We have business to discuss.”

There was no point in avoiding the meeting now that he was spotted. Jonis walked across the blackened remains of the hospital to the still strangely white line and bowed to the city official. Under those critical eyes, he felt grimier than ever.

“Good morning, sir,” he said. “Actually, I was just on my way to the public bath. I haven’t been able to change in three days, so if you will please excuse me.”

“Hold on a moment,” the city patriarch said, waving him nearer. Jonis knew that just meant he should not leave his spot. The patriarch really did not want him that close.

Jonis waited.

“I need your expertise concerning this hospital. Are you sure all the worm eggs are dead?” the patriarch asked.

Jonis shrugged, wishing even more that he had not been seen. “When in doubt, I’d burn it again. Then scour the stone thoroughly with the solution I prescribed.”

He turned to go.

“Wait! I’m not finished,” the patriarch irritably called at him.

Spinning back around to face the patriarch, Jonis clicked his heels together and put on an attentive smile.

The patriarch was not fooled. He could tell Jonis felt no more comfortable in his presence than he did. Though, in Jonis’s eyes, he could tell the Cordril knew his place.

“I also want to know, is this fire circle you make permanent?”

Jonis shook his head. “Oh, no sir. Most magic circles are only for the moment. This fire circle will fade after a few days. I had to remake a fire circle nearly every time new recruits came around at Dalis Camp.”

“Why?” gasped a tall middle-aged man in a properly tailored work suitcoat fit for a factory chief.

“To prevent demons from coming into the camp of course,” Jonis said with a deferring nod to him. “I had to make a permanent demon circle there. And letting them out to burn them is a risky venture. Of course, with me gone, they’ll have to think of something else when the new set arrives. Maybe they’ll start using demon chains to drag them around.”

Scratching his chin, Jonis mulled over that dilemma to himself, wondering if it would cause the doctor more trouble.

The men pulled back and whispered among themselves.

“Go wash!” The patriarch waved Jonis away.

Bowing, Jonis hardly hid his grin. “You are too kind.”

He skipped over the rubble and away to the bathhouse.

“Was that a Cordril running free?” a man’s voice asked from above. “Is he your demon problem?”

The city officials turned around. They saw a swarthy man astride a brown stallion which stood on the street just a pace away. The man’s saddle was fully packed with weaponry. He was armed with crossbows, pistols, a bowie knife, several strips of bullets—as well as a few other things, along with a dangerous sword strapped to his back. The man gazed down at them then peered at the burnt building. He scratched the stubble on his chin. “You’ve had quite a fire here.”

He slid off his horse. Walking over to the ash, he crouched down, examining the painted white line, marked with Jonis’s boot feet in charcoal. Sniffing, he nodded. “A demon fire. You burned corpses here.” He looked up at the puzzled faces of the patriarch and compant. “Oh, I’m sorry. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sisrik Counz, bounty hunter—skilled at killing demons. I had overheard that you had a demon infestation here. It seems I missed the party.”

The city patriarch nodded, a satisfied smile returning to his face. “Yes, thank you for coming. But the Brein Amon army took care of the problem. Your services will not be needed.”

The bounty hunter snorted, glancing around. “Since when did the Brein Amon army know about how to handle demons? They always hired out.”

One of the advisors waved to where Jonis had gone. “Ever since the army inducted a Cordril who knows magic. That’s when.”

Sisrik turned, peering over the rubble to where the man pointed. Then he walked back to his horse, mounting.

Taking firm hold of the reigns, Sisrik said, “A Cordril in the army huh? Are you so sure he was recruited or just one that possessed a solider. Haw!”

He rode off before they were able to answer.

Jonis was on the street of the bathhouse when he heard horse hooves gallop into the thoroughfare. No rolling carriage wheels rumbled behind hit. Curious, he turned to see the source of the noise, but also to get out of the way—which turned out to be timely. Just inches from his nose, came a sword, swiping the air.

Jonis ducked, dipping into a crouch. He dived off the road and tumbled over the cobblestone.

Panting for breath, he pressed himself against the nearest wall and peered back at the man on horseback. The man jerked his horse’s reins to turn it around, his horse whinnying irritably in protest yet obeying.

The man astride the horse pointed his sword it at Jonis. “You foul usurper! You cannot hide, Cordril! Murderer! Shed that form you possess!”

“Woah! Hold on!” Jonis jumped back into the street. He retreated towards the hospital. “I only killed demon worms! I swear!”

To Jonis, it didn’t seem that the man was listening because the rider urged his horse into another charge, heaving up his sword and swiping it at him.

Diving below the blade’s reach again, Jonis rolled then crawled across the ground, looking for a possible doorway he could escape through. Unfortunately, nothing but wall went on for several yards. All the other entrances were rapidly filling with curious watchers. He could see the hunter with the sword down the street, turning his horse around again. This time he prepared to take off Jonis’s head.

“I will not let a Cordril live in this town!” The hunter shouted.

“Hold it! Hold it! I was stationed here! Sent by Dalis Camp! I swear!” Jonis reached in for his tags for one last attempt to reason with the man. “Look! I’ve got proof!”

“Lies!” The horseman plowed towards him, hunching close to the neck of his animal as if his plan was to trample Jonis instead of hack him to bits in the road.

An instance from his long memory flashed in Jonis’s mind—how to deal with horses that were to kill him, and men on them that had the same motive. As Jonis’s heart raced in his chest, watching the man and beast charge, Jonis tore off his gloves, silently begging forgiveness from Mr. Farren and all his commanders at Dalis camp. He drew his sword with his left hand, then switched hands, waiting for the charge.

Their swords sparked as blade and blade clashed together, throwing both Jonis and his thin military weapon to the side of the road. Jonis reached out as if he were grasping for life, but he barely touched the side of the horse. The same time, he could hear the top half of his saber clatter to the cobblestone.

It was almost instantaneous that the horse also collapsed to his knees, tossing its rider into the street ahead.

The hunter clattered painfully to the ground, scraping a few feet across the stone before coming to a stop.

Getting up first, Jonis staggered away from the road as