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The Lioness of Shadi
18 - The Demon of the Fallen Tree

18 - The Demon of the Fallen Tree

The great wailing and gnashing of fangs split the otherwise silent night air, but the distorted echoes through the buildings of Sa Dul told Ilati nothing of where her quarry was. With the darkness beneath the crescent moon and the bloody light it shed, the advantage was most certainly with the demon.

Ilati took a deep breath and tightened her grip on her sanctified arrows as she watched the road from the east. She tried to focus as Eigou had taught her, not with her own two eyes, but with the inner perception he insisted was key to seeing into the world of such creatures.

The priestess closed her eyes, adjusting her hold on her bow and arrows. With only five, she had abandoned her quiver in case it slowed her down, preferring to hold her arrows in the hand holding the string. Then she heard it, a clatter on the street below so much closer than she had expected. She flicked the first arrow up and caught it, drawing it back without hesitation. The small symbols of protection etched onto her thumb ring burned hotter and hotter as the creature approached. Her perch on the roof of the granary would not be hidden long.

When she opened her eyes, it took biting her own lip almost hard enough to draw blood to avoid a gasp. Rippling and writhing, the hulking figure of shadow moved through the dimness in an undulating path, growing fresh limbs with every step and absorbing the old. Its many eyes flashed like a lion’s in the moonlight, a maw full of needle-like fangs dripping ichor onto the city streets that burned and corrupted even the stone. Ilati had never encountered a beast so large, greater than even a bull. A thick mane of darkness wrapped around its neck, but its back and tail bore deadly-looking spines.

Not for the first time, Ilati felt her death close at hand.

Be brave, Ilati, she told herself. Be worthy.

She drew the arrow back further, anchoring at her cheek rather than her chin, and held her breath. In this, her aim mattered more than it ever had before. She let the arrow fly with a flick of her thumb and index finger. Light flashed as the arrow soared, like a crackle of lightning.

The arrow struck the demon in the hindquarters rather than the heart she had aimed for. Jaws opened and a wail shrieked forth that left Ilati deafened and stunned for a moment. It was muscle memory that drew her next arrow to her even as the horrible sound drove like a red-hot needle into each ear. Her eyes flooded with tears of pain and the muscles of her wounded leg quivered. Suddenly, her shot was not as clear. She pulled back away from the edge of the granary, hoping against hope it hadn’t seen her.

A snarl told her otherwise. The ladder leading up to the roof disappeared, a horrible cracking telling her exactly what had happened: the demon had seized it and broken it. She had a ten foot drop on all sides to reach the street, and that was no salvation. Ilati let her arm slacken as her heart pounded with fear, hands trembling on the string. Even without a wounded leg, that was more of a jump than she dared make. A drop perhaps, but then she would have the demon upon her.

In a moment, it didn’t matter.

The flash of seven rage-filled eyes at the edge of the roof announced the demon’s arrival as its claws dug into the mudbrick of the granary walls, hauling itself upward with her arrow still embedded in its flank.

There was no time to think. Ilati drew her arm back and let the next arrow fly, holding her ground. This one struck the demon in the shoulder as it hauled itself up onto the granary roof. She could see the purity of the salt spreading in the wound she had created, a place of crackling light on the evil one’s hide.

It was not enough, even as a second wail split the night air. She was more prepared for it now, but ice ran through her veins and her body screamed for her to flee even though she couldn’t move.

Ilati had no time to draw the next arrow. Ebony muscles flexed and the creature leaped straight for her like a great lion.

She hurled herself to the side, colliding with straw baskets and the narrow edge of the rooftop, arrows clenched in her fist. Ilati forced herself up onto her knees, coming truly face to face with the demon as she fumbled to draw her next arrow. Its breath reeked of old blood and rotted flesh, sparking memories of the dead in her mind. Huge claws dug into the hard roof, flexing only feet from where she stood.

“Your pitiful sting will not save you. I am not so easily slain, mortal,” the demon growled. Instead of leaping at her, it lashed out with a single, twisting limb that seemed to have far too many joints.

Ilati’s third shot went wide as the claws struck not her arm, but her bow, ripping it from her hands. The demon snatched up the weapon before she could even react, snapping it contemptuously and hurling the shattered wood and sinew off the edge of the building.

Now unarmed, Ilati felt a surge of anger pour through her veins, overpowering even the fear left by the demon’s shrieks. “Neither am I, child of my mother,” she hissed. When it went to claw at her face, she grabbed a pot from the edge of the roof and swung it as hard as she could. The pot shattered, but it saved her face. She scrambled back across the roof to the far edge in an effort to create distance.

The demon growled deep in its chest. “Your death will be one of many. I will destroy Sa Dul for its crime. I look forward to the taste of your flesh, mortal, as I will taste all who dwell in this place.”

Ilati’s brow furrowed, but she knew she had no time to question. The creature already hunched its massive form in preparation for another pounce.

Behind and below her, she heard a sharp whinny. A sudden, burning connection awoke inside the priestess, like the familiar crack of lightning. Again when the demon pounced, Ilati hurled herself to the side. She went too far, sliding off the edge of the flat roof. One of the arrows went flying as she dangled by a jarred shoulder, barely stopping herself from plunging to an injury that could have spelled her end.

The demon whirled and lashed out at her hand, claws extending out further than a lion’s.

Ilati closed her eyes, whispered a prayer of thanks, and let go. She landed hard on a moving horse’s back, a sudden oneness exploding on contact through every fiber of her being. Youtab charged for distance beneath her, the courage of the horse far beyond anything that the demon’s howl of anger could frighten.

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Ilati tightened her thighs as much as she could to stay on, crouching low on the racing horse’s back as Youtab charged to the west, turning a sharp circle near the well to face the direction of the demon. There was no need for whistle cues or the pressure of a knee: where Ilati began and ended was lost in the oneness with the wild horse.

The gratitude she felt for Youtab’s rescue could have moved mountains.

“We have to fight it.” Ilati put a hand on the horse’s neck. “You can set me down and go.”

Youtab pawed at the earth, already in the war dance of the Sut Resi horses. The message was clear: the priestess would not fight alone. Ilati felt the horse’s muscles twitch beneath her, readying for a charge as the demon undulated down the side of the granary. The horse was ready for combat, divine blood fearless in the face of such evil. People watched from doorways and windows on all sides as the demon let out another wail.

This time, connected to Youtab’s strength, Ilati felt only a surge of determination. She leaned forward with the only remaining arrow gripped in her left hand. The mare needed no further instruction: she exploded forward into a charge straight for the creature, moving with the speed and deadly grace of the greatest of Sut Resi horses.

The demon howled and threw itself forward to meet the charge, but Youtab veered before it could react even as Ilati leaned into the demon’s path, holding the arrow forward. The priestess focused every ounce of will on the obsidian head, reaching out in the same split second for the power of her goddess. A flood of power surged down her arm, a sudden wind enveloping her in the half a heartbeat before they met.

She struck it with the crack of lightning, thrown from Youtab’s back by the impact. Ilati tried to turn it into a roll as the demon flung her hard down a street, curling her left hand against her body. That whole arm was bloody from claws and singed from her goddess’s power, not to mention the bruising all across her body from the roll and the glow of lightning after-flash in her vision.

Youtab whirled and charged back in her direction as the demon slumped to the ground. The horse stopped herself just beside Ilati, leaning down her head and seizing the priestess by her clothes with teeth. Ilati was grateful for the help getting to her feet, as her wounded leg was quivering under her weight. She leaned against the horse, using Youtab as a crutch.

“Let us be sure it is finished,” Ilati said, limping back towards the demon as blood rolled down her arm.

The demon twitched and writhed on the ground. It strove to grab the arrow buried in its heart with its claws, but the power painted onto the short shaft seemed to burn it every time it tried. “What sorcery is this?” Its struggles grew weaker and weaker as the purity of salt spread, but clearly it was not dead yet.

“Give me your name, demon, and I will spare you for the love of my mother.” Ilati’s voice sounded harsher than usual from her ragged breaths, eyes flint hard as she stared at the wreckage of the demon.

It looked up at her, seven eyes reflecting crimson in the light of the moon. It had no face, only a shadowy suggestion of a maw and teeth that gleamed numberless in its jaws. “I am Ezezu, o daughter of tempests.”

“Be still, Ezezu, and do no harm.” The name buzzed with power on her tongue and the demon immediately went still.

“I will harm none save your command, and should I strike at you, may our mother rip me to pieces and banish me to Ersetu.”

Ilati dared to pass within its reach, still using Youtab for support. The horse stomped hooves menacingly, but the demon did not react with violence. She gripped the shaft of the arrow sticking in its chest. “Why have you come to this place? You spoke of Sa Dul’s evil as if they had wronged you.”

Ezezu growled, clearly enraged, but did not lash out. “Destruction, fueled by greed, and a wound to me that they cannot heal.”

“Speak of this. Tell me what was done.”

“A tree, o lady of tempests, grew just beyond the bounds of their vineyards of grapes that have brought them such prosperity. Never have they wanted before for food or drink, clothes or tools. Yet they looked upon the great nobles who traveled from Sarru to the great cities of Kullah and envied their wealth, their fine jewels, their sweet scents. To purchase such extravagances, they expanded their vineyards and uprooted this tree. They burned it in their fires with no thought to the offering. My place of resting, my dwelling, my tree.”

Ilati pursed her lips. “Did you entreat them before you savaged them, Ezezu?”

The demon bowed its head in a nod. “When they brought their axes to my home, I begged them in the guise of an old man to spare the tree. I warned them their cruelty and pride would bring them ruin if they did not make a pleasing offering and a new home to the one who dwelt within. They laughed and chased me from their presence with insults and the beating of sticks.”

The priestess wrenched the arrow from the demon’s chest, ending the spread of the purity of salt. “How may they repay this offense without their destruction? They have wronged you, but deserved or not, this will not grant you what you desire.”

Ezezu growled. “I desire their suffering.”

“And what of a home? What of your peace?”

The demon reached out with its claws, but Ilati refused to flinch. It dragged a heavy, lion-like paw over her wounded arm and the blood clotted. “What do you offer, o lady of tempests?”

“If they made you offerings and a home, would you relent?” Ilati appreciated the healing, even if her arm still throbbed in agony. “I will impress upon them what we have spoken of.”

“If they pray to me every year equaling the number for which my tree stood proud beneath the sky, if they pour out libations from every batch of wine and offer me grain in every harvest, I will restore their fields to them and purify their waters. What they offer I shall return seven-fold, good or ill.” The seven eyes that gleamed in the light seemed sincere to Ilati. She kept her grip on her arrow, switching it to her better hand.

“Most generous, Ezezu. I will tell the people of Sa Dul. How many years did your tree flourish beneath the sun?”

“Twelve and twelve. They have a day to decide, o child of my mother.” Ezezu slumped to the ground. “If they reject my terms, my desire to make peace will be at an end.”

“I understand,” Ilati said. She leaned heavily against Youtab’s side, stroking the horse’s neck with her burned and bloodied hand. She still held the arrow. Perhaps it would have been wiser to kill the demon, but Ilati knew she would regret the action knowing what had transpired. “I release you from my presence, Ezezu. Return to the wilderness. I will meet you here again at the well with their answer tomorrow night.”

The demon bowed its head again and melted away into the shadows, ripping out the arrows as it went.

Ilati hoped she had not just made a terrible mistake.