Jonis, Rowan Erlking [first e reader txt] 📗

quickly from the animal as possible, mostly to keep from being crushed while it attempted to regain its footing.

Jonis picked up the broken piece of his military issue saber and frowned. “Damn.”

 Scraping the sword point quickly around himself, he uttered the incantation. “North. East. South. West. Ward encircle and protect from hate.”

Groaning and cursing worse than Jonis, the hunter pushed off the street and rubbed his scraped chin. His lip was bleeding from a welt at the corner of his mouth. Pushing off the stone, the hunter took up his long sword. He staggered to his feet. His eyes narrowing on the Cordril. With a heave, he lifted his sword and charged at Jonis.

Jonis clapped his hands together and shouted, “Shield!”

The blade shied off, inches from Jonis’s nose, sending sparks into the air.

Both men panted, staring each other in the face.

“So you know how to make shields,” the bounty hunter said. Throwing his shoulders back, he heaved deeply to catch his breath. “You can’t stay in there forever.”

Unable to admire tenacity that was causing him trouble, Jonis stuck his hand into his collar and lifting up his tags. “If you can read, I won’t have to. I’m Private Jonis Macoy. I am enlisted in the Brein Amon army.”

People gathered. Many of them had already seen Jonis’s shield-making skills, but this conflict was too interesting to pass by.

“You are not! You liar,” the bounty hunter snapped. He paced around the circle, glaring at every bit of the greasy, dirt-covered, and black ash-smeared boy who looked more likely to fall down from exhaustion than attack him, despite his clear understanding of demons. “You possessed the body of that poor private and are now pretending to be him. No Cordril would ever be accepted into the Brein Amon army.”

“Read the tag, stupid!” Jonis shouted desperately at the hunter, his shoulders sagging. “It says I’m a Cordril!”

He broke it off the chain and tossed it through the barrier at the man.

The hunter picked it up, blinking at the blue tag. The writing was clear enough. Stared at it for several minutes, he then scratched the bumps to make sure it was real. Jonis’s name was on it alongside an accurate picture etching.

Shaking his head, the hunter said, “No. This is a con. Cordrils are very good at cons. You had this made.”

Jonis moaned, slumping his shoulders lower. “I have not hidden that I am a Cordril. Call Dalis Camp. Talk to my superiors. If they can’t convince you, then maybe you should consult with the Patriarch of Brein Amon himself. He approved my entry into the army. Go on!”

But the man continued to circle him. He drew a piece of chalk from his pocket. A wicked look filled his eyes. “Nice try. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

He bent over and drew a large circle in white around Jonis. He marked the ground, reciting the spell. Jonis watched him do this, folding his arms and raising his eyebrows with a tilt of his head.

“What do you think you are doing?”

The bounty hunter stepped into the circle, clapped his hands, and said, “Wall!” He spun around and smiled, taking his place back outside the line. “Now you can’t go anywhere.”

Several people laughed. Some shook their heads, remembering the day before and how Jonis made the other circle, hopping in and out of it with ease.

Jonis stepped from his hate ward, stopping before the white line. He looked down at it.

“Congratulations,” Jonis said, nodding his head. “You made an excellent demon circle.”

The bounty hunter smiled, though he puzzled over how casual Jonis was treating his situation.

Jonis reached out with his hand as if to test the barrier with his finger—just a few inches from the smug hunter’s face. Then he reached entirely out of the circle and touched the hunter’s forehead. “Too bad they don’t work on Cordrils.”

The man’s face went immediately white. He lifted his sword to attack, but with less strength.

Jonis jumped back into his hate ward and laughed. “Missed me!”

“What are you doing, Private?” Lt. Laslow called over with a sound of disapproval. He marched down the street towards them.

Jonis’s face went red. He searched around for his gloves, spotting them at the unfortunate distance of across the street, not too far from the exhausted horse that had finally decided to take a nap in the middle of the road. The lieutenant picked one glove up and lifted his eyebrows.

“Aren’t you supposed to be wearing these?” He glanced at the white-faced hunter and the demon circle on the ground. Stomping to them, he stood between the hunter and Jonis, stuffing the gloves into the private’s hands.

“Who are you?” Lt. Laslow said, whipping around to glare at the hunter.

Drawing in a breath, the hunter propped himself up, using his sword as a cane. “I’m Sisrik Counz, bounty hunter and demon killer.”

The lieutenant blinked at him. “Really? Well, this demon is off limits. He is a soldier of the Brein Amon army. To kill him would make you deserving of death.”

Peering over the lieutenant’s shoulder, the hunter stared. “You can’t be serious. That is a Cordril!”

“We know that,” the lieutenant replied with bite. “Unless you have proof of some crime he has committed, I suggest you back off.”

“But he murdered Private Jonis Macoy! See!” Sisrik lifted the blue tag Jonis had tossed him.

Taking the blue tag from the hunter’s fingers, Lieutenant Laslow snapped, “He is Private Jonis Macoy. The Macoys are Cordrils. I did the research myself. No human family goes by that name.”

That took all the thunder out of the hunter. He kicked the ground in personal disappointment.

“Now, Private,” The lieutenant rounded on Jonis with a glare. “Go wash so you can help the city planner. They have been yelling for you.”

Jonis clapped his hands and shouted, “Shield off!”

A whiff of dust spun around him. He stepped from behind the lieutenant and went back to where had dropped his duffel bag at the beginning of the fight. He skirted around the hunter.

The bounty hunter just watched him, still too unable to speak for the shock. When Jonis had gone inside the building, the man squared his shoulders and dusted his knees off. He took several glances back, shaking his head before returning to his horse. It trembled as it got to its feet.

“I can’t believe it,” Sisirk muttered. “A Cordril in the army.”

“I couldn’t believe it either,” the lieutenant admitted, following him. “But he saved this city and kept the deaths to a very low number. By today, if he had not come, our town would have been overrun.”

The hunter snorted. He led his horse by the reins to the side of the street where it could rest without getting hit by a rushing automobile. “So what? Cordrils are famous demon hunters. But they are usually vigilantes and charge a high price. A Cordril in the army? Does the Patriarch actually think he can control him?”

Looking at the city bath as if he could see through walls, the lieutenant pressed his lips together. “I don’t know. So far, the boy is impressionable and eager to please. But he is young. I don’t know what he believes in.”

Sisrik the hunter nodded.

“I’m glad to see somebody is looking at him with a critical eye.” He peered again to where Jonis had gone. “Be careful. I predict one day the Patriarch will call in hunters to get rid of him. Private Jonis Macoy is but a tadpole now. If he starts to want power, he will become dangerous. It is a bad thing he knows magic. A very bad thing.”

 

Jonis scrubbed off the three days worth of dirt and sweat as quickly as possible. He returned to the hospital site as spanking fresh as he could be. Stuffing his broken sword into his duffel bag, Jonis entered the rubble and crossed over to where the city planner stood with a surveyor. His eye set right on the hunter who also was there, standing in the street, talking to one of the city advisors not far away.

“Ah, at last!” the city planner snapped when he saw Jonis. He waved over to the burned building. “We have decided to clear this area and put in a permanent demon circle with a monument in the center. The monument will memorialize all the dead. You are to make the circle permanent. How do we do that?”

Still watching the hunter, Jonis said, “That part is easy. We need to clear the space, wash it, and get some white stone quarried and dragged here. If we set the stone deep in the ground, it will last forever.”

“And the fancy writing?” the city planner asked, following the gaze of Jonis. He smirked when he noticed whom Jonis was watching.

Jonis shook his head, thinking of something else as he replied, “That has to be stone too, imbedded in the ground. I can scratch out where the stone has to be cut and placed, but I have to put it in for the spell to work.”

“All right then,” the city planner said. He shoved a city map into Jonis’s hands. Jonis looked down at it, yanked from his thoughts. “Go to each of these places and mark out where demon circles will be. I will order the stone and have it shipped. Masons will aid you in the work.”

Taking the map, Jonis sheepishly nodded. “I’ll go to the gates first.”

“That’s a good lad,” the city planner said, smirking condescendingly at him.

They watched Jonis run off like an errand boy, eager to complete his task—and of course to make good distance between himself and the demon hunter. The days before, they saw Jonis as larger-than-life—a demon to be reckoned with. But now, with his nervous habits, skirting from the hunter and ducking his head like the fourteen-year-old boy that he was, they smiled to themselves with assurance that the world had been set right once more. And once more they were the lords of it, and not this mouthy youth who knew too much for his own good. Demon or not, skilled at magic or not, they were not going to let this blue-eyed child reach hero status. They refused to allow themselves to feel indebted to him.

 

Jonis traveled back to the office with as much haste as possible. He preferred to complete the work as soon as possible. Sticking his head in the doorway, he asked a secretary to give him a ride to the gates.

One of the men just laughed at him, leading Jonis back outside. Taking the keys, he stuck it into the ignition and waved over to the seat.

“This turns it on. Hold the handlebars to steer, and pull the throttle to give it some fuel. Use your foot to give it fuel here. Those over there are the brakes. Go easy on them or you’ll flip off the scooter.” He slapped Jonis on the back and walked back to the office door. “Wear a helmet and don’t go too fast.”

Jonis looked back at him, having become speechless at his crash course in driving.

But seeing he had no other choice, Jonis climbed astride the scooter and flipped on the ignition switch. It shook underneath, making an old ratting noise that did not sound good. Already nervous, Jonis did as instructed. In minutes, he rolled down hill to the city edge, putting along until he felt more comfortable steering the bike. His balance, of course, was perfect—something he had never lost.

 

It was a long day. Jonis went from place to place on the map, resting only for lunch. He marked the ground with white chalk, putting in the writing where it belonged according to the cardinal points of the compass. A few times he noticed the hunter following him, watching him, and glaring with those beady dark eyes. And at the end of the day, when Jonis returned to the office, he found the hunter’s horse tied outside. The animal trotted skittishly to get away from him as Jonis parked his bike