Jonis, Rowan Erlking [first e reader txt] 📗

faster. You can handle it, soldier.”

Jonis shrugged. Perhaps he could.

 

Chapter Twenty: Up to Danslik

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Very few magic users are pure in any sense of the word.”

 

 

 

 

Jonis did not get sick on the plane. Also, they had seats this time around.

Arriving in the Danslik airport, Jonis carried his bags down the steps to the ground and glanced at the rest of the team as a group of young men in green coats and small hats escorted them from the airplane to the terminal. Everyone in the team looked excited. The Danslik airport was white and pristine with a brilliantly shiny marble floor and newly renovated electric lights. The walls were just as clean. In fact, the air was so thin that when they stepped down, Jonis felt as if they were walking through buildings made from clouds.

At the airport entrance, they found a steam propelled taxi-bus waiting. It had brass handles and shiny wood veneer on the sides. A government escort dressed in the finest satin blue suit coat and tails stood with the driver. He bowed from the waist.

“Welcome. Which one of you is Corporal Jonis Macoy?” the escort asked, his eyes scanning the troop’s sunglass-covered eyes.

Lt. Gillway stepped back.

Jonis tried to hide his embarrassed smile. He stepped forward and bowed. “I am, sir.”

The man bowed once more to him with perfect control in his manner. “We were informed of your service to our country. I thank you on behalf of the Patriarch and the Council of Fourteen. You may take the seat of honor.”

Jonis glanced back at the others as he let himself be led to a cushy, seat in the front of the taxi. It really was no softer than the other chairs, but this allowed him to see the road. The others filed inside, elbowing one another in the gut and whispering jokes with snickers

The ride up into the city was like rising into the sun. The stones of the city walls got whiter and whiter the higher they went up hill. All the men put on their sunglasses so they could keep from being blinded in the brightness. The driver wore a special pair which looked almost plated with silver and shielded on the sides. It protected from the blinding white while making the road in front plain to see. They were stopped only once, given the right of way at every road up to the capitol gates. At the gates, the security guards to the palace—also marvelously dressed as if they had never fought a day in their lives—asked for their identification cards and passes.

The taxi bus rolled into the open square. The driver let them off into the wide-open space before the great doors of the capitol building.

Standing outside the capitol building, Jonis was speechless. His eyes drew up to the enormous pillars carved from the dazzling white stone. Too awed for words, not even able to describe how magnificent the building was, it made him feel small, like a dirty speck on this perfect clean floor. The doors stood open. His jaw hung as he peered in. Inside was more impressive than anything he had ever seen. The walls stretched high, as if to go on forever. Chandeliers of the most amazing crystal and diamonds hung from the ceiling, making that patriarch from Wingsley where they had killed the Night Stalker look like a beggar and his own patriarch of Harsall like an insignificant cockroach. It seemed no wonder to Jonis now that Night Stalkers were rumored to haunt the capitol. The place reeked of avarice.

Courtiers and aristocrats stood in the hall, gathered along the sides of the main walkway. Most were fanning themselves, watching the six soldiers as they entered the room. That’s when Jonis realized they were waiting for them. And at the end of the enormous hall, he saw a long table with fifteen men sitting behind it. The one sitting in the center was dressed more magnificently than the rest. His chair appeared to be made of silver, ornately designed with filigree and mythological designs—the back and seat padded with colorful velvet pillows. Two dignified men stood in front of the table.

One, who had a horn tucked under his arm, called out with a loud voice: “All welcome the heroes of Brein Amon! Parasite slayers! Hunters of demons! Friends to man! Servants of the Sovereign!”

“Welcome!” the large crowd in the capitol hall said together.

Their escort urged the soldiers to step to walk forward to the room, halting only ten feet from the main table. With due respect, each soldier knelt before the long table, bowing his head. They said together, “We serve you, our Sovereign.”

The man that sat on the fancy chair stood up. “Which one of you is Corporal Jonis Macoy?”

Jonis knew that was a command to rise. So he did, and answered him. “I am, Your Grace.”

“Come forward,” the Patriarch said.

Lifting his eyes, Jonis looked at the face of this man. He was young, maybe in his late twenties. Jonis had heard the Patriarch of Brein Amon was a young man, but he never suspected this young. Yet, there was nothing particularly interesting about his features that Jonis would have described as distinguished or eye-catching. But the look in the Patriarch’s eye was firm, as if he knew he was the master of the world.

Obeying quickly, Jonis walked forward to the table.

“Remove your glasses,” the Patriarch said.

Jonis took his sunglasses off, revealing his shining blue eyes.

A few breaths drew in.

Yet the Patriarch smiled, peering at Jonis’s face. He drew his own decorative saber from his side scabbard, one encrusted with jade and emeralds, and interlaced with silver. Jonis stood still as the man lowered the sword flat to his shoulder, barely touching the blade edge to Jonis’s uniform. A maddening flash of memory shouted for Jonis not to trust the Patriarch—that this man would sooner chop his head off than honor him. Still, another memory from his ancestor Yadis Macoy, with amusement, remarked that that flimsy sword could barely make a dent in his collar. If anything, Jonis had better fear the man’s sly gaze. Indeed, the more Jonis looked at the country’s young leader the more he realized the Patriarch had an intensely inspecting look in his eyes. And though the man’s words spoke with honor, setting Jonis apart as a demon hunter for the nation, a lieutenant in the army, and a protector of the Sovereign, the Patriarch’s eyes said that he would kill Jonis if he ever fancied to.

“Arise, Lieutenant Jonis Macoy.”

Jonis had not realized that he had been kneeling. He arose.

The Patriarch was smiling, satisfied for a number of reasons. “You and your former team will join us. Tonight, you will sleep in the capitol, and tomorrow you will be informed of your new duties.”

Bowing again, maintaining eye contact, Jonis said, “Thank you, Your Grace.”

He stepped back to his group.

The privates patted Jonis on the back. Lt. Gillway shook his hand.

 

That night they all feasted in the most amazing dining room they had ever seen. The food was exquisite, filling Jonis’s somehow increased appetite. He never felt so hungry. Blaming it on the high altitude and his thundering heart, Jonis ate voraciously, freely toasting the Patriarch with his goblet full of mixed juices. The serving staff had been annoyed when Jonis had made the request for a nonalcoholic drink—but with explanations set aside, they did as he wished.

Dinner conversation among the wealthy guests went around Jonis, not addressing the actual one that had ended the bird infestation. Only the Patriarch dared to speak directly to him. And when the man did, all listened.

“So,” the Patriarch said after swallowing a modest bite of roasted pheasant and sipping from his goblet of wine, “You used magic to kill off all the bird demons?”

Jonis sighed, returning the polite conversation. “Yes, Your Grace. Only, not all the bird demons there were killed. One got away. And of course, there are always others around the land. I suggest a heightened watch for feathers out of the neck. Including, if not especially, military personnel. People have come and gone from that resort. I have no doubts that we killed off the majority of them, but I am sure many bird demons are still out there. We cannot let them nest.”

The Patriarch nodded, raising his fork with another bite of bird. “No, we can’t. I’ll make sure bird demons are the first things we look for on people. You have already taught many how to kill them. A sure shot is all it takes, right?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Jonis cut off another piece of his pheasant, making it modest enough not to expose his hunger. “Aim for the head. The bodies are nothing to them. The birds will abandon them if they think they are in danger.”

“Are you not hungry, Lieutenant Gillway?” the Patriarch asked him.

The lieutenant was slowly cutting his meat, staring at the plate and thinking. He looked up. “Sorry, Your Grace. My mind is occupied.”

“Ooh!” chimed in a private. “I bet his mind is on that certain someone!”

Jonis smirked.

Grinning, the Patriarch leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I heard about your request. Are you sure you do not wish to continue with your task force?”

Looking up, Lt. Gillway nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. I think it is about time I settled down. I have had enough of demon hunting.”

Drinking long from his wine goblet, the Patriarch licked his lips. “I’ll need some time to consider your request. You have been of great service for the nation.” He glanced at Jonis. “But maybe your task is near completion, and I might be able to relieve you of duty.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lt. Gillway said.

Jonis smiled at him. Thinking, he turned and took a breath. “Your Grace, I also have something to propose to you. I mentioned it once before in a letter, but I was given no response. Have you received my letter about the magister program I suggested?”

The Patriarch’s eyes automatically went dark. His gaze remained placid though. “We will not discuss that business at dinner. Now is the time for amusement and rest. Drink and eat! Save business for a duller time.”

That was a flat ‘shut up’. Jonis knew it.

“Pardon my breech of conduct, Your Grace,” Jonis said, ducking his head. He quickly stabbed another piece of pheasant and jammed it into his mouth.

 

The team parted after dinner. One of the palace advisors drew Lt. Gillway aside, passing along written information for where his team had accommodations made for them within the city. The privates and Cpl. Emas grinned and started towards the main doors to finally find rest in a bed. Jonis was about to go with them, but the butler marched up to him, leading out a hand. “Lieutenant, come this way, please. I will be escorting you to your quarters.”

“My quarters? But what about—?” Jonis gestured to the other men. They had glanced back once at him, though they continued on their way with a departing wave.

“From now on, you will be quartered in the capitol building,” the butler said.

Jonis frowned. He cast Lt. Gillway one last longing glance before turning to follow the butler. His travels had ended. This was where he needed to be now.

Going from the eating