Perspective: Lorelei

The ship under me was as still as the ocean on this windless day. Markus and I were on route back to Ordia from Liseu. We’d left Navanaea in a rush after our encounter with the demon and Yothariel. This ship was even less comfortable than the Swordfish had been, but at least we’d be stuck on it for less time.

Yothariel and the demon had escaped. I wished they’d been stupid enough to walk into the Navanean royal guard and military. We’d only had time and resources to watch for the pair entering Liseu, or Sindomar up the Coast. I’d been told the Turquoise Coast was not a difficult region to operate in, just expensive.

Yothariel hadn’t shown up in either Turquoiser city or back in Ivlaet. She was too crafty for that, and there was far too much remote land for us to possibly cover in a search. I was glad for that in a way. I’d had quite enough of sand and desolate wilderness.

Unfortunately, while in Liseu, I’d received the worst kind of order: I was told to retreat. Yothariel was wicked, vindictive, and, worst of all, patient. I’d somehow traveled with Yothariel in human guise as ‘Seyari’ for months and she’d done nothing. But she had priorities, I was told. And that would make her easy to catch. This meant retreating for now. Again, what I was told.

Not that I was told how Mordwell was going to capture her! Or why! I leaned against the ship’s railing and pouted harder at the uncaring ocean.

I tried to tell myself I should be happy to be alive.

High Inquisitor Mordwell had warned me years ago that Yothariel was alive somewhere. The Church considered her dead, but he knew something no one else did. I didn’t think I’d ever meet the monstrous woman, let alone while chasing down a demon. Yothariel, according to Mordwell, hated everything. I slumped forward.

A large, warm hand came to rest on my shoulder. Markus, like most of the Church outside the Inquisition, knew of Yothariel as no more than a name in a book. Yothariel was hardly discussed by the Church at large. Just a mistake of the Inquisition; a half angel corrupted by demonic forces and responsible for a massacre that destroyed most of the order.

Yothariel had been silent for thirty-three years, but she was back and would no doubt come to finish what she started.

As a close associate of the Inquisition and his beloved grand-niece, High Inquisitor Mordwell confided certain things to me. He told about the half-angel traitor, Yothariel, and what she had looked like. She had golden eyes consumed by rage, and hair the color of polished steel. Yothariel, as I had seen her in Baetnal, had somehow hidden her wings, but her face and features perfectly matched the clear and bloody tales of my great uncle. The power she held was no joke either, even if it her aura hadn’t lived up to the legends.

Great Uncle Mordwell had told me to run if I ever saw her, and to tell him immediately. I did as he asked back in Baetnal, but the thought of leaving that half-angelic traitor and her demon partner free… I could still taste bile in my mouth.

We’d sent a messenger bird ahead before we left Baetnal and were told by the agents in Liseu to return to Ordia immediately. Whatever magic they used to communicate was something I’d never had the pleasure of being able to use.

Most concerning of all was that Mordwell’s message asked us to come to his estate in northeast Ordia. The place functioned as base for the Inquisition in the region. I had to admit, if there was anywhere Yothariel would attack, it would be the High Inquisitor’s estate.

That much made sense to me. I knew she’d been to his family estate many times before Mordwell inherited the sprawling place.

Mordwell had been close to Yothariel, once. The old man was tight-lipped about much of his past, but he told me the story of her betrayal. How he had turned and left her broken body for dead, unable to bring himself to end her life.

He considered the act of mercy his greatest shame. I grimaced at the thought that he was right.

I put my hand over Markus’s hand and felt the bumps of his knuckles.

Would I have the strength to kill Markus if he became corrupted? Would he have the strength to kill me?

I looked up at my love and smiled. Free of his helmet, the large man smiled back. I didn’t want to lose what we had.

None of this fixed the thought that had been bouncing around in my mind since Liseu: If Great Uncle Mordwell wanted to keep me safe, why was he having Markus and me go to his estate?

The question circled my head uselessly and staring out over the calm ocean didn’t help one bit.

I was sick of boats.

“Hey, Marky?” I asked my lover dejectedly.

“Yes, Lor?” Markus leaned closer to me.

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For once, the wonderful man wasn’t in his armor. That didn’t make him any less imposing to people who didn’t know him. He’d gotten us a nice, quiet section of the deck.

“Why would someone who wants to keep me safe, have me go into danger against the very thing he wanted to keep me safe from?” We were on a passenger ship, so I worded my question carefully.

“Maybe he thinks you’re ready to face that foe,” Markus replied easily. A delightful, if simple, answer.

I kept my frown and turned to look at Markus. “Well, if he does, then we’d better get reinforcements. I don’t know if the old man can fight anymore.”

“That kind of talk isn’t like you, Lor. We know what at least one of our foes can do. We’ll find what the other can do and their weakness, then use it against them.”

I sighed. Markus was so sweet, but for once, I wasn’t sure I could take this fight.

I kept my voice tight. “We’ll do that, then.”

Markus nodded. “Good.”

I took a look around the ship’s deck. On such short notice, we had to take a normal passenger ship instead of something arranged just for us. This meant we’d sat through a tense week of waiting in Liseu.

Today was bright and sunny, but with the sun overhead most of the passengers were belowdecks for the midday meal. The food here was disgusting, so Markus and I had brought as much of our own stock that would keep.

I left the railing and turned to go belowdecks for some shade. On the way we passed the only other people up on deck; an odd pair of travelers we’d met briefly. They were a short person whose ethnicity I couldn’t place and a willowy Navanaean man. The two sat together in an alcove in the shade. The smaller of the two looked to be winning the card game they were playing.

***

The rest of the voyage to Lockmoth was boring. Markus helped me get some confidence back over the course of the journey, but that only made me more anxious to arrive. I didn’t like to run from a fight, but if we were prepared, we could certainly take out a washed-up corrupted half-angel and a greater wrath demon too weak to act on their own nature.

The city of Lockmoth, as usual, was dreadful. Mordwell insisted the port was useful to easily move goods and people, regardless of origin or legality. I didn’t much care, honestly.

To me, the city was dirty, smelly, and the men at the docks who leered at me looked worse than diseased hogs. Salt-coated wooden buildings crowded together like bad teeth. I thanked Dhias the tide was in. When the river estuary Lockmoth sat on drained, the smell was literally indescribable.

The memories of the other times I’d passed through this port came with the memory of the stench. I’d learned so much since the first time I passed through Lockmoth. I’d grown more familiar with this port than I ever would have cared to.

On one voyage, I’d met Markus in Cavenze, in a small western border town. I remembered the demon we’d fought there together. At my insistent suggestion, Mordwell had hired Markus afterward.

The demon had been a hideous monstrosity, even for one of its own kind. A greater demon, but hardly even humanoid. That demon was a greater demon of wrath, just like ‘Renna’.

I couldn’t get out of my mind how different the two were.

The tide was going out when we finished disembarking. I hurried us along to our inn room quickly. I’d stayed at the place before, a sturdy, private stone building. The best part was how the place kept out the smell of Lockmoth’s harbor.

I dropped my bags just inside the door and flopped onto our shared bed face first. I felt Markus’ weight push the end of the bed down.

He knew something was bothering me.

Normally, I’d string him along a bit, but I was exhausted.

“Do you remember the demon we slew after we first met?” I asked into the pillow.

“What’s that, Lor?” Markus sounded worried.

I flipped onto my back and repeated the question, staring at the ceiling.

“I do,” Markus replied evenly. “A greater demon of wrath. A savage monstrosity.”

“Right.” I folded my hands over my chest. “What happened when it was first sighted?”

Markus exhaled slowly. He hadn’t lived in the hamlet the demon had destroyed, but he had lived in the neighboring town where it had been killed. He’d lost neighbors, and friends.

My upbringing in a proper house in Ardath was nothing like his life on a farm had been. I couldn’t imagine living in such a small home and working in the dirt all day.

Markus slouched and then drew himself up ramrod straight. “The demon killed a family at one of the outer farms. There were no survivors. Their neighbors were next, but the eldest son was in town for the weekend. He was the one who’d raised the alarm. But, by the time anyone came…”

“…The demon had slaughtered every last living soul,” I finished the sentence for him. “Sorry for bringing this up.”

“I’ve… moved on.” Markus replied.

“You’re still a terrible liar, Markus.” I tried to sound playful.

“Mhmm.”

We were silent for a long time after.

My mind replayed the fight in the town. I’d arrived to investigate and found Markus trying to rally the townsfolk to fight. He was in the town militia, but their leader didn’t want to go on the offensive.

He hadn’t needed to worry about that. The demon attacked the first night I was there.

I shouldn’t have even been there, but I was in Cavenze to investigate a rumored Lost Era ruin at a remote site. My team was called by the Inquisition to join with others and form a hunting party.

We were lucky to have more than me.

The demon had been a nearly three-meter-tall mass of misshapen spikes and limbs arranged like a human the same way a bramble patch was arranged like a bouquet.

Markus had helped us fight. The man was good with a sword, but even better with a shield. He didn’t have his armor then. He seemed like he was missing something without it these days.

When it was over, we’d won, but the town was heavily damaged. There were several dead, but things could have been much, much worse.

What struck me the most was the savagery with which the wrath demon fought. Like every demon, it was a mad, depraved thing. Unlike some greater demons I had read about, this one was primal, a destructive force with no higher thought.

The demon didn’t flinch when hurt. The monstrosity barely paid attention to whatever was hurting it, preferring to fling about in a rage. Its behavior was completely unnatural, like the way it moved itself around with terrifying speed and force despite having a lopsided mess of a body.

Renna didn’t seem at all like the other greater wrath demon I’d seen. She looked the part of an unusually humanoid wrath demon, but didn’t act like one at all.

Was she another kind of demon in disguise?

If she was, she was way more dangerous than I’d thought at first.

“Hey, Markus?” I started. “Do you think that… actually, never mind.”

“What’s on your mind, Lor?” Markus sounded tired.

“Nothing important,” I replied as peppily as I could. “Let’s go get dinner somewhere.”

“Are you sure, Lor? The tide’s out by now.”

I scowled. “Boo. We’ll eat here, I guess.”