Redcliffe Castle

Salem

My own heartbeat echoed in my hearing as I strode down the hallway. The stench of death clung to me like a second skin, like a pervasive aura. It sickened me...it sickened me that it existed, and that I knew this would not be the last time. If the Circle of Magi and the city of Redcliffe were any indication, the road to the ending of the archdemon would be paved with death and hell.

I am going to face a child whose teacher not only failed to teach him to protect himself, but caused the boy to be susceptible to the demon when his father was nearly killed. What no one knows, what no one might believe, is that the demon within this child might be the sole reason that Eamon Guerrin still draws breath. If that is the case...then defeating the demon might destroy the arl. Maker, give me strength.

I stood in the hallway, staring at the closed doors, wondering where Connor might have run to. It only made sense that he would flee from those assailing him...and go to the side of the one the demon emerged to protect. I continued following the hall to the room at the end, where Isolde said Eamon lay ill. There were bodies littering the floor here, as well, guards who had probably only attempted to enter this room to ask questions, killed by the impetuousness and fear of a child wielding the power of a demon.

Jowan was right about one thing, I mused, I am not strong enough to face a demon. Neither, however, are the people of Redcliffe strong enough to face another assault. If I can give the city peace for a night, no matter the cost, I will let them sleep safely. I will give the wounded time to heal. And I will pray...I will pray with all that is within me that the Circle will answer my call for help and save father, mother, child, and city.

I opened the door to Eamon's room. It smelled of herbs and tinctures, stringent antiseptics, and the cloying stench of decay. The windows were nailed shut, keeping any and all light from the room, barring fresh air from entering. A fire burned in the hearth, illuminating the dust floating through the air. This was not a sickroom...it was a deathbed, and the child standing before his father knew such a thing all too well.

I ignored Connor and pulled a knife from my belt, quiet, so as not to alert the boy and the demon to a weapon being drawn. I walked to the window and pried up the nails, throwing the boards away and allowing light and air into the room.

"What are you doing!?" Connor roared, his voice lacking the undertones it possessed when he ordered Tegan to attack us.

"Your father is unwell." I replied, keeping my tone even and non-threatening. "Darkness and stale air will not help his recovery, only hinder it. Who ordered this done?"

Connor shook his head. "I do not know." He said, soft. "Who are you? Why are you in here?"

"My name is Salem Cousland." I stacked the fallen boards beneath the window and went to the next, beginning to pry those up as well. "Our fathers were friends."

Connor nodded, gazing down at his father's haggard visage, his own countenance falling. "I met Teyrn Cousland when I was a boy." He murmured. "He was a nice man...he let me join his men in the training yard and hold his sword. I had such a nice time...until mother got scared and said I would hurt myself."

I paused in my work, my throat tightening, heat scalding me behind my eyes. His words could be nothing less than truth...it was exactly what my father would have done. He allowed Fergus to join the men in training when my brother was seven. And, when I expressed interest, he ignored all social mores and permitted it...much to my mother's chagrin.

"How is he?" Connor looked up, his wide, innocent eyes meeting mine, and I forced myself to remember that, with any misstep, the demon might return. "Your father, I mean."

I rested my head against the rough boards blocking the window. "He...he died, Connor." I breathed the words, feeling the same horror retake my heart that gripped it when Howe's men burst into the room and Duncan was forced to drag me away, screaming.

I ripped the last board away and dropped it to the ground. Connor turned away from Eamon's bedside, his eyes lifting to mine, flaring with an unnatural light.

"Fathers should not die." His words emerged on a snarl, his lip curling upward in disgust. "They should not fall asleep and never wake, they should not leave their children to weep and to question, they should not fall prey to the scheming of evil men!"

I drew myself up and attempted to quell my fear. I was no longer speaking to Eamon's son.

"No, they should not." I agreed.

"What are you doing here, in this room!?" Connor snapped, the low, menacing notes of the demon echoing through the room. "This is a protected space, and you are not welcome here!"

"I am here to help you and your father, Connor." I spoke to the boy, hoping that my words might reach him behind the facade of the demon's resurgence. "I am here to help protect him."

"You reek of death and blood!" He shouted. "You are a herald of death and a harbinger of destruction! You are here to destroy me!"

Connor's arm whipped out and a wave of energy slammed me against the stone of the wall, driving the breath from my lungs. I crumpled to the floor, gasping, fighting to pull air into my lungs. Connor walked closer and stood over me, the demon's energy rippling around him, manifesting itself in response to the threat it felt from me.

"Draw your weapons, human worm." The demon ordered. "Test your power against my own and see my words proven true."

"I have...no desire...to harm you." I managed to rasp, disentangling myself from the sheathes of my swords and throwing them to the side. My knife followed, proof of my intentions.

"That's a lie!" The demon roared, and another burst of energy flew from Connor's fingertips, slamming into my abdomen.

I retched and doubled over, gasping. I gritted my teeth against the pain, forcing myself to rise above it, remembering my promise. I would not lose. I had no hope of winning, but I could not lose to this demon. The people of Redcliffe could not afford another night such as the last one.

"I...do not...want to...hurt you." I gasped.

"Liar!"

Another blast of energy lashed against my exposed back. I heard something crack and pain splintered down my ribs. I bit back a scream and planted my hands against the floor, struggling to keep myself up. I could not lose consciousness. I could not succumb. I could not let this demon free again, but I had taken too many injuries in too short a time. Deflecting the physical assault was paramount.

"Test...me." I growled. "See if...I am...lying."

"You are a weakling and a coward." The demon taunted. "I shall derive great pleasure from the breaking of you."

I fought back the pain, managing to sit up and look into the demon's eyes. Connor's lips spread into a sickening, demented smile. The smile worn by the demons of desire such as those I met in the Circle tower. The boy's eyes crackled with arcane power and I could smell the grasses of Highever as my vision wavered. I prepared my heart to be broken and my soul to be torn asunder.

I prepared to re-enter hell.