A chuckle emerged from beneath Dmitri’s hood. “Ah, young Martin, you have so much to learn.”
“I’m not that young.”
“Yet I am ancient.”
The soft soles of their boots made no clatter on the cobblestones, and their simple garb earned no stares. They were invisible, no one, unseen.
Keeping the innocent safe while they slept.
The silence became too much for Martin to bear. “The creatures we kill speak like men. Were they ever men?”
“Yes, and no,” Dmitri replied. “Don’t limit your thinking. More beings draw breath than you or I can ever know. Who are we to decide that only our form qualifies as men? Like most species, there are also females of their race.”
“Females?”
“Yes. They are highly prized and rarely seen. They do not involve themselves in hunting.”
“One said he had a master.” Martin rifled through his memories of all he’d read in the priest’s book. Some more powerful creature controlled the pitiful excuses they dispatched. Martin barely contained a shudder. He’d never seen a master. Had no desire to.
“He did.”
“Have you ever seen a master?” The book contained some chilling tales of vicious, remorseless evil. Of course, the book also spoke of different “realms“ and “worlds.” What did that even mean?
If Martin could unread the book, he would. He could’ve lived his whole life not seeing the images portrayed in those drawings or reading the accounts of unfortunate souls who’d had the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The evil he’d read about. Whole realms destroyed. What was a realm? Didn’t much matter what they were if something destroyed it, along with millions of lives.
He’d never known such evil until the night he’d tried to save a woman. He’d wanted answers, wanted to meet someone like himself.
Martin should have been more careful about what he wished for.
Back home, hunters sometimes found an animal or even the remains of people left behind by some monstrous predator. Had demons existed in the mountains too? So many places for them to hide. Maybe they’d been there all along, and any unlucky enough to cross their paths didn’t live to tell the tale.
And died, never knowing what attacked them.
Martin slept easier before discovering the true nature of such beasts. Here, the priests took care of the deaths they couldn’t prevent with their hunts.
Dmitri stopped, the opening of his hood swiveling Martin’s way. “Notamaster.Themaster. Yes, I’ve encountered him, and barely escaped with my life. It’s why I and the other mages fled my home. Or rather, one of the reasons.”
Martin shuddered. “If the master is so powerful, why use minions to do their bidding? Why don’t they come themselves?”
“Hecannot. There is a barrier he cannot cross.”
“Why not?”
“Because of those like us.”
Dmitri ducked down an alley, leaving Martin struggling to catch the priest’s longer strides. They left the road, picking their way down an embankment until they stood beneath the stone bridge separating the city from the rest of the world.
Dmitri lifted Martin’s hand to the bridge support. He ran one of Martin’s fingertips over the smooth indentions in the stone.
“Runes!” Those were mage marks. If mages were considered evil and destroyed, why were their marks allowed to remain?
“Yes, runes. Most cities have them. Few would last long in these dark days without proper wards. Remote villages were never worth the demons’ time. This city, however, is a gateway and the easiest crossing point. The wards were designed to keep outsiders away. Unfortunately, as you can see, they’re failing.”
“Who created the wards? Can they repair them?”
“One thousand mages created these runes. You wouldn’t find one hundred with enough power in all the lands put together. We are a dying breed. And when we do…” Dmitri shook himself. “Stop asking questions. We have many more to check on this night.”
“You never really told me. Where do the demons come from?”
