Jonis, Rowan Erlking [first e reader txt] 📗

over and hammered another stake into the Night Stalker’s heart just to be sure it would die. The thing thrashed once then lay limp on the ground, not even bleeding.

“And now we burn the body,” Cpl. Emas declared, nodding proudly at a job well done.

“Idiot.” One of the other men slapped him on the back of the head. “You don’t burn stalkers. They aren’t like parasites. They don’t lay eggs.”

“Learn to listen, stupid,” another snapped, tying up the net so they could drag the dead body off.

To clean up the street, they dragged the corpse onto the flat of a small cart they had parked around a corner. Heaving it on so they could present the body to the town patriarch, they tied down the net to the flat. For a flamboyant touch, one of the privates strung garlic all around the body, folding the creature’s arms across his chest like a mummy.

“Jonis?” Lt. Gillway called, following to where the young Cordril stood, leaning his head miserably against the rock wall. “Come on, we have to present the body.”

Jonis lifted his head. He gazed somberly at his friend. “I warned him. Why didn’t he listen to me?”

“He was motivated by passion. That’s all,” Lt. Gillway said.

Shaking his head sadly, Jonis asked, “Why does passion drive some creatures more than sense?”

“That,” the lieutenant answered with a shrug, “is a mystery, even among humans.”

 

They presented the body to the guards outside the town patriarch’s home. The guards took the creature with strong exhales of relief, instructing the soldiers to enter through the front gate and report to the town patriarch personally.

The town patriarch’s home was a luxurious place filled with crystal chandeliers, fine art, and imported rugs. The floors were waxed. The furniture sparkled and poufed in all the right places. Though he still used gas lamps in his home, it made the village patriarch of Harsall look like a pauper.

Escorted by a snide looking butler who peered down on them all as they entered through the doors, taking in their scuffed up boots, the military hunting team entered the front hall. Fifteen maids stood in a line. Some giggled at how cute the soldiers were, though all stared at Jonis with gasps of fear.

“Wait here for the master,” the butler said, and he walked off in a gliding stride.

With a glance to one another, the men stood at ease, resting their hands behind their back.

“Ah! The monster is caught!” The village patriarch came down the wide staircase from the balcony above, leading a morose-looking young woman by the arm. “The nightmare is over!”

“This one is dead, sir,” Lt. Gillway said with a proper bow, approaching him. “But there is chance that others will come unless the avarice driven murder that lures them here is discovered and the perpetrator is found.”

The patriarch released his lady’s arm and smiled. “Really? A murder? What makes you suspect a murder?”

Lt. Gillway spoke with a great deal of patience. “Sir, it is always murder driven by avarice that lures Night Stalkers after blood. Unless the killers are caught and brought to justice, more will come.”

Becoming flustered, the patriarch glanced at his lady who also grew out of sorts. She stepped from him and walked to the next room to sit down. “Are you sure? Do you think this town needs a regiment stationed here to protect it?”

“What it needs is justice for the murder,” Jonis muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” the patriarch glanced with a sharper eye on Jonis. He had not missed that a demon was in his midst.

Sighing, Lt. Gillway turned. “Yes, let me introduce our key hunter. This is P—Corporal Jonis Macoy. He is our expert on Night Stalkers.”

Jonis bowed low. “At your service.”

With the slimmest nod, the village patriarch marked Jonis with a firm inspecting look. “Yes, I was told you had a Cordril working for you. Is he the one who insists that the Night Stalkers will continue to come?”

Lt. Gillway nodded. “Yes, sir. And I trust his knowledge.”

However, it was obvious the patriarch didn’t have any regard for Jonis’s ideas at all. He turned from Jonis with a dismissing hand wave. “Well, I am sure he is mistaken. Now to dinner. Come this way, gentlemen.”

Normally common soldiers would not have even entered the patriarch’s home let alone had dinner with him, but being part of a specialized demon hunting team had its perks. The soldiers followed their host to the dining room. As opulent as his front hall was, his dining room surpassed it. There was crystal and porcelain dining ware imported from Angledoli, a country from the southern continent of Minor Gull, things adorned with jewels and gold. The plates had lapis stone imbedded along the rim. The bowls matched, topped with the finest silk napkins. Numerous silver forks, knives, spoons and picks were set along the sides of the plates. None of the soldiers knew which one to pick up first, which was the design of the patriarch in the first place. He enjoyed it when others felt awkward and small.

“Start on the outside and work inward,” Jonis hissed to the private on his right. “Pass it on.”

He picked up the furthest fork, lifting it and applying it to the salad on his plate.

The patriarch glared at Jonis, and then batted his eyes as if forgetting the Cordril entirely. He turned to Lt. Gillway and said, “So, where is your band off to next? You must enjoy adventuring around the countryside. I’m sure you’ve seen much of Brein Amon. If I were younger, I would go off and adventure myself.”

Knowing he would have to bear the burden of conversation for the entire team, Lt. Gillway responded as genially as possible. He nodded with a grace that he had learned over the years.

“Well, our next stop is a village that has been reported to be inflicted by a strange heart-eating demon,” Lt. Gillway said. “We think it might be a Gole, but they usually attack the head first if they are really hungry.”

“Please,” the lady sitting next to the patriarch said, covering her mouth with a napkin. “Not at supper. I cannot abide blood stories.”

“Yes,” the patriarch said with a sad look in his eyes, gazing on her. “There has been enough death.” He cheered up at once, rubbing his hands together. “I know! How about if one of you sings us a song! I hear the soldiers of Brein Amon love to sing great songs around the bar. Share some with us!”

All the soldiers looked to Jonis except for Emas, who just shrugged.

Jonis smothered a smirk at Lt. Gillway and rose from his chair. “If you wish, I can sing some songs for you. If you’d like, I can even play on your piano a piece that my great, many times, grandfather knew. He was an entertainer in a roadside inn for a while.”

The patriarch cringed, caught in his own game. He nodded sadly, unable to ignore Jonis any longer.

The young blue-eyed man grinned and started to sing an ancient ballad, laughing inside at how this devious aristocrat squirmed.

 

Out as the sun rose over the hills,

There lived a young lad that skipped through the shire

Early each morn to visit his love

Who happen to cause her dear father some ire,

He happened to cause her father some ire….

 

 

Chapter Eighteen: Hunting Answers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“To lure anything that is demonic, one has to resort to extreme measures.”

 

 

 

 

The village of Hergiset waited for the military demon hunters to arrive, standing near the village gates. The village patriarch wrung his hands. Many mothers sobbed, their voices reaching the trees above and getting lost in the leaves. Their gates had gold chains and paper spells draped around as prescribed to ward off Goles. Besides them, men stood at watch with their swords in their hands. Lt. Gillway hailed them as soon as they stood ten feet before the threshold.

“Hello, sir! I am Lieutenant Gillway. The demon hunters have arrived!”

The guards said nothing. They pulled back the lock and pushed open the large wooden doors. The doors creaked open.

Jonis peered into the weeping crowd, glad they could not see beyond his shades. He had gotten so tired seeing people flinch upon the sight of him that first year as a hunter. It was pure genius on the lieutenant’s part to have sunglasses ordered as part of the uniform, not only to prevent a negative reaction, but also to keep the demons off their guard. As soon as demons knew a Cordril was in their midst, that was when troubles began.

Acting boldly, Lt. Gillway marched forward to business at once. “Who is the village patriarch? He summoned us to deal with a demon problem.”

The patriarch stepped forward, extending his hand in a solemn handshake. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I am Patriarch Erren. I will take you to see the bodies right away. You will see what we saw.”

They marched straight through the village.

Jonis kept his eyes open, watching the crowd and everything else. That was his job. They had learned that though villagers mostly cooperated with the military, often they kept back secrets that could be incriminating. Like in the case of the Night Stalkers, sometimes the demon problems they had were in fact self-inflicted. There was an abnormal flesh-eating demon that came all the way north from Maldos due to filthy waste management in one village. In another, there was a worm infestation entirely unrelated to the Ladis plague caused by one man’s disgusting hygiene habits. Jonis had learned then that many of the demon worm infestations were in fact the result of a simple parasitic infestation handled wrong. But here, all he saw were healthy mourners and a few preoccupied faces.

He paused. Through the crowd, he noticed one girl turn away, looking more worried than happy to see them. Continuing on, Jonis watched for more uneasy faces. There were a few, but none that looked demonic. He smelled the air. It was clean and fresh. Nothing.

The soldiers walked through the main thoroughfare to the edge of the fields, peering around at the scene where the dead was found. All five men had been discovered with their hearts ripped out, lying together in a grove of trees mixed with tall grass. Crouching to the ground, Jonis felt the soil, smelled the dirt, listening only slightly to the desperate report the patriarch gave. “…found with their chests ripped open, as if with steel talons. There were claw-like gashes on them. I’ll show you the bodies in a moment. Some looked like they were all attacked here. I don’t even go out here now with out ten body guards.”

“Tell us about the victims,” Lt. Gillway said, listening intently as a private wrote down the facts.

“I’ll show you the victims. Then you can tell me what happened,” the patriarch said, leading them from the grove.

Jonis lingered. He sniffed the air.

Nothing. The odor of the sap from the trees was too strong.

He listened instead to the wind.

All he could hear was the rustling of the grass, which had grown high. It was the perfect place to lay a trap.

Drawing the broadsword he got from the old magister, Jonis carefully walked down the rows of trees, listening to his environment