Demon Heart
Bryan Berg

Sir Ritehart fired his sling, and the hare that bounded across the grassy heath fell still. A hound retrieved the lifeless game, and Sir Ritehart turned to the scholar, Priestess Risa Melicles. "How long?" Ritehart asked.

Risa examined her hourglass. "Sixteen minutes," she replied, and the other hunters applauded. Two hares and a pheasant had fallen to his bullets. Ritehart won the hunt every year as far back as memory served, and none expected this year to be any different. The wizard Set stepped forward.

"Sixteen minutes?" he hissed, and his thin lips curled across his narrow face. "It is a little early for celebration, don't you think?"

"No one has forgotten your turn," Risa said.

"As well they shouldn't," replied the wizard. A crow sat upon his shoulder, as it had now for days. The black bird grasped a bit of cloth in its beak and pulled Set's hood down from his head. Set's bald head glistened in the hot, afternoon sun. He closed his eyes as the bird lifted from his shoulder into the sky.

Sir Ritehart watched with fascination as the bird circled overhead, winding up as Set wound his sling. Then the animal swooped toward the nearby grove. He squawked. Without opening his eyes, Set releases his first bullet. And then, another.

And another.

Ritehart and the others stood incredulous as one beast after another fell. Two hares. A pheasant and a fox. The crow flushed a sparrow from the grove. For no reason than to flaunt his skill, Set downed the sparrow as well. The little brown bird fell with a plop at Sir Ritehart's feet.

"Need I ask the time?" Set scowled, opening his eyes. "Or should I collect my prize now?"

The hunters stood dumbfounded. Ritehart was the first to congratulate the wizard. "Impressive work!" he said. How is it that--"

"I see what the crow sees," Set interrupted. Some of the hunters had already gone to gather his kills. "We are familiar, yes? I take only half the credit."

"Then you should receive only half the prize," Risa Melicles said, resetting the hourglass. Her face, as beautiful as it was, showed no pleasure. Still, Sir Ritehart knew he'd lost fairly and patted the wizard's arm. He'd forgotten that the old man liked not to be touched.

One of the hunters shouted from near the grove. He pointed across the hillside, but Sir Ritehart saw nothing. A foreboding wind fell from the north, and a shadow fell across the heath. Sir Ritehart squinted at a whirl of dust and leaves in the distance. The hounds barked wildly. "What is that?" someone said. Sir Ritehart shook his head. Horror gripped him as the whirlwind swept toward the hunter. It moved faster than any beast or agent of nature.

The hunter shrieked and ran. The thing within the dust cloud fell upon him--gray claws and yellow fangs. It shredded the man in an instant. All at once, Sir Ritehart and his fellow hunters fired a volley at the creature. No bullet, no arrow, seemed to penetrate it.

"Demon!" the Priestess Risa Melicles cried. Sir Ritehart had drawn his sword, and she pulled him by the arm. "No, wait! We must flee to the city!"

Some of the hounds attacked the demon. Others fled, whimpering. All of them succumbed. Sir Ritehart called his men to retreat. Set was already on his way up the hillside toward the gates of Uenden. A sharp eyed gatekeeper gave the cry, and the portcullis rose. The hounds had bought them some time, but now Ritehart could feel demon breath hot upon his back as he retreated. A thousand howling winds chased him up the grassy hillside, and the smell of the foul creature was like a sulfur pool. When Set stumbled and fell, Ritehart gathered him up and threw him over his back. He followed the others through the gate.

"Drop the portcullis!" Sir Ritehart cried. A thousand pounds of spiked iron crashed upon the demon at the gate. The thing screamed from its many mouths. Claws lashed and fangs struck out in every direction. Sir Ritehart set the wizard on his feet. He wiped sweat from his eyes, certain the demon would die. Instead, the whirlwind rose again. Lightning flashed, and a swirl of a million colors restored the hellish beast outside the gate. The city walls shook. Archers gathered to fire from battlements and loopholes. Nothing could kill the thing.

"Invincible," Risa said, chest heaving beneath her vestments.

"No creature is invincible!" Ritehart declared in disbelief. The wooden walls of the city trembled. Splinters whizzed through the air. Set, with his crow returned to his shoulder, agreed with the priestess.

"We must retreat to the castle," he said. "The stone curtain should hold him."

The people of Uenden poured from homes and shops. Some of them cried or fell upon their knees as the city wall shuddered. Others gathered weapons, but Sir Ritehart commanded them to retreat to the castle. Men gathered their horses to spread the word. Others collected food, and a wave of citizens was seen fleeing to the castle gates. Finding his white steed, Sir Ritehart ushered as many townspeople as he could find. Over two thousand men, women, and children found salvation behind the stone curtain just as the city walls crumbled. The demon leaped into the city.

"That's everyone!" Risa declared. "We must go now!"

Sir Ritehart pulled her up behind him. He galloped his horse across the bridge over a festering moat. Ritehart was certain some citizens remained, cowering in their homes. He looked back and heard screams as the demon tore open rooftops and smashed through walls. But it was too late for them. The bridge began to rise as he sped across it.

The knight never felt so helpless.


"There must be a way to kill it! Everything has its weakness, even the gods!"

The sky was cloudless, the moon full. On cool nights such as these, the people of Uenden usually built fires in the open. They danced and sang together around them. But tonight the multitude was still. They clung to each other in the courtyard. Children sometimes cried as the demon flung himself against the stone curtain. Dust rose from the wall. The rumbling was terrible, and the beast seemed as tireless as it was cruel. For now, the stone shield held fast.

King Urides arrived from the keep. He hoped desperately to offer some solution. He suggested sallying his men forward, but Risa Melicles argued against it. Countless archers had fired flaming arrows into the demon without effect. The creature swam across the moat to the berm, and so they poured boiling pitch over its shapeless body. The demon replied with vengeance. Its twelve mouths spewed a yellow cloud of gas. Warriors gagged and fell from the battlements. Those who survived remained blinded for hours. The king retreated to his castle.

"It's a Kliton," Risa told Sir Ritehart. They sat together with several others in a grassless area of bailey. Set stood over them, and a small fire burned nearby. Risa's face appeared yellow and grim by the flickering light. "A demon of Inos...or, somewhere," she said.

"Somewhere?" Set mocked. He scowled down at the priestess. "For all your scholarship and learning, somewhere is the best you can do?"

His crow chuckled in his ear, and Risa glared back at them. "I don't see you offering any solutions, wizard."

"What about our brave knight here, then? Isn't that his job? To slay errant beasts? Yes, I believe that's how the stories go."

"If it could be slain, I'm certain he would," Risa told him. "The demon wants something. There's no other reason for him to appear now."

"Perhaps he wants your knowledge, priestess. How sadly disappointed he will be."

Sir Ritehart listened to the two bicker in vain. The priestess had taken his hand in her own. She held on and squeezed, but no comfort could ease the sickness in his heart. When he'd heard enough, he pushed her hand away. "The wizard is right," Sir Ritehart said. "I can hear the murmur of the people around me. I can see their eyes. They expect me to do something."

"To do what?" Risa said.

"To save them!" Sir Ritehart shouted. He was angry, though not at her. He saw that she was hurt. "Risa...please understand. What good is it to be a hero abroad when I cannot help my people at home? What use is it to be the greatest hunter when I cannot kill this monster?"

"Second," the wizard Set muttered.

"What?"

Set shook his head. "Oh, just a mere correction. You are now the second greatest hunter, you see. Earlier today I--"

Risa Melicles kicked. Her heel struck Set's shin, and his bird squawked and flapped its wings as the wizard fell into the dirt. "I'm through with you!" Risa said. She stood and dusted herself off while the castle curtain thundered from a fresh strike. "I'm going to the library," she told Sir Ritehart. "Promise me you'll wait here."

"It would seem I have little choice."

"I'm glad you understand," Risa said, and she started through the crowd toward the keep. The guards all knew her. They snapped at attention to open the doors. Sir Ritehart watched her disappear, and then he listened.

"Do you hear that?" he said.

"What?" Set replied, rubbing his shin. "I hear nothing."

"Exactly," Sir Ritehart said. "The demon...he has quieted."

"Perhaps he requires a nap. That witch of priestess could use one as well."

The knight frowned. He cocked his head to listen, but all he heard were the whimpers of frightened children. "Anything that needs rest can be killed," Sir Ritehart said. "Send up your crow."

"Why?"

"You can see through his eyes, can you not? Send him to see what the Kliton is doing."

The wizard Set got up. He spat at the dirt near Ritehart's feet. "A sore loser, are you?" he said.

"What do you mean?"

"All my life, I stood in your shadow. You can't stand that someone actually beat you at your own game. Now you want the demon to kill my crow. Well, I'll not fall for your tricks!"

"For the love of--!"

"I'm going to my quarters," Set sneered. "You know, adjacent to the king. Where is it that you sleep, heroic knight?"

"The barracks," Sir Ritehart told him.

The wizard raised a bony finger and said, "Aha! And let you not forget it!"

Some things never changed. Set was one of them. He retreated to the castle keep, and Sir Ritehart curled upon the ground. He watched the moon. The castle walls soon thundered again. Sir Ritehart hoped his presence helped calm the people. There was little else he could do.

The smell of warm food imbued the summer air. Sir Ritehart's stomach rumbled, and he opened his eyes. The sun was up, and the sky was blue. A child of no more than seven brought the knight a bowl of spiced porridge. He stood far back out of respect, and his blue eyes were wide behind his dirty face. Sir Ritehart smiled and beckoned him near. The boy set down the porridge and scampered away, shouting to his friends.

"You see," Risa Melicles said. She approached from the castle, and her eyes were dark from lack of sleep. She carried a bound book of leaves. "You still inspire our people."

"If only I could help them," Sir Ritehart replied.

"You will," Risa said. "And I know how."

The priestess had been right. The demon was a Kliton, and his earthly form was invincible...almost. Behind a wall of fire there was a an underground sea. And beyond this sea there lay a temple door sealed by magic. Beyond the door, safely hidden away, was the Life of the Kliton.

"It's his heart," Risa explained. "His soul. If you can destroy it, the Kliton dies."



The first obstacle Sir Ritehart would face was the wall of fire. Nothing could extinguish it, but a hero could pass through it...if he wore the right armor. Only a suit worn from the silk of the yulan worm would. They dwelled in the fires of the sacred willow. Such willows grew in the courtyard--a gift from King Urides cousin--and they were immediately cut to burn. Meanwhile, a Hand of Glory was required to penetrate the magic seal of the temple doors. A hanged thief was required for such a hand, and the castle dungeon was not lacking for criminals. Such a martyr was chosen, and he seemed almost cheerful to aid his people just before his neck cracked at the end of a rope. His hand was chopped off and prepared by the priestess. That left only the sea to contend with. Risa Melicles acknowledged that this was the most difficult part of the task.

The sea, she said, stretched for miles. Since it lay underground, there were no places to surface for air. The copper gill of the lancefish was the only possible solution. "You need only apply the gill to your mouth," Risa explained. "Then, like the lancefish, you can breathe underwater."

"Where do I find this fish?"

"In Black Lake," Risa told the knight. "But we can't risk your life. Not if you are going to acquire the living heart and soul of the demon."

Sir Ritehart ignored her warning and gathered up what provisions he needed for the journey. Few soldiers knew the way to Black Lake. They were too young to remember, but Sir Ritehart had campaigned near Black Lake. He set out alone that very night with only a blade, a strong net, and a ready heart.

A postern at the rear of the castle led him outside. He sallied forth, hugging the shadows of the night. The demon did not see him. It was too busy hammering the castle walls and spewing its vile clouds to notice a single man. The knight returned in six days. He saw that curtain had worn at the Kliton's relentless blows. Cracks marked the wall like a web, and stone crumbled. The demon showed no sign of fatigue.

Sir Ritehart snuck through the postern. He found his people shaken and frayed. Some had gone mad. Others stared at the ground in front of them, awaiting their doom. Still, there was hope. The castle's finest seamstresses had gathered enough yulan silk to weave a suit of armor resistant to fire. The Hand of Glory was sufficiently blackened, and its fingers curled like a dead spider to hold the magic within. Sir Ritehart unwrapped a square of damp cloth. The lancefish within was still alive. Risa sliced into it with a silver blade to remove the gills.

"When you reach the entrance to the sea," she said, "you must hold these between your lips and teeth. Breathe through them, not your nose."

The wizard Set grumbled. "It's hopeless," he said. "It's all for naught. We'd be better to escape through the postern. Sir Ritehart should have stayed away while he had the chance."

"And how many have died trying?" Risa snapped. She looked back at Sir Ritehart. "I feared the fools would spoil your return. Here. Let me help you into the yulan armor."

The suit was heavy. It glistened in the sunlight, yellow and orange threads tightly woven across each other. Risa stood back and looked at the knight. She couldn't help but laugh.

"Silly, is it?"

"More ornate than I'm used to seeing you," Risa replied. Her smile faded. "You need only wisdom and bravery now. You have everything else that you need."

"All but one thing," Sir Ritehart said.

In an act that would have brought him to the gallows on any day but this, the bold knight leaned in his glistening armor and kissed the priestess. Then he turned and mounted his white horse.

"Sir Ritehart," Risa said.

"Yes, m'lady?"

She smiled up at him. "When you return, and I believe you will...make certain that never happens again."

"I'll cherish the memory," the knight replied. And so with the gills of the lancefish, a Hand of Glory, and the yellow armor of the yulan worm, he set out once again into the black of night.



The map Risa had drawn led through low-lying marshes and swamps to the east, then into mountains of the north. He descended into a ravine. There was stream at the bottom, and to the west of the stream stood a tall fissure cut from solid rock. The fissure smoldered and glowed. Here was the wall of fire. It burned with an intensity greater than any natural flame. Sir Ritehart's horse whinnied at its roar. The knight dismounted and tethered his beast in the shade near the water, promising to return soon. Then he pulled the coif his of worm-spun mail over his face, and he gripped the sleeves over his hands. He approached the fire, blind but certain that every part of his body was protected. The roar of the fiery wall was horrendous. The heat was almost unbearable. The knight hurried through unscathed. He emerged on the other side and uncovered his eyes to find a small grotto enclosed by rock. A small pool or well mirrored the blue sky. Removing his armor down to a tunic and breeches, Sir Ritehart stuffed the gills of the lancefish into his mouth. He descended into the pool until the water washed up over his head. He found that he breathed freely through gills, and so he descended further. A watery cavern awaited him deep down. Feeling his way through the slippery dark, Sir Ritehart followed the meandering cavern for miles without any need for air.

The cavern arched toward the daylight at last. Sir Ritehart crawled into the open air. Cold and dripping wet, he found himself in a place unlike any other. A green valley stretched to unseen distances. There were deer and brightly colored flowers. He saw dragonflies as large as his arm, and trees dripped honey from their stems. Perhaps this was the Land of Promise as told in legends, but he had no time to ponder. The object of his quest lay before him: a temple of stone with massive pillars and stairs that led to doors of gold. He raced to them and pulled. The doors would not budge, and so he removed the blackened Hand of Glory from inside his tunic. Holding it by the severed wrist, he tapped at the door saying:

"Heed the call Of the hanged thief's fall! Open lock-- To the dead man's knock!"

The fingers of the hand opened, as did the doors themselves. Heartened, the knight tossed the expended hand aside. He dashed inside the temple and raced to an altar of marble and gold. Risa had told him he would immediately recognize the heart of the demon-soul. It could be a pebble, she said, or some small animal. But Sir Ritehart found nothing of the sort.

Upon the altar stood a statue of a man.

The man had seven arms.

One arm was extended.

Its hand held a silver chain.

From the end of the chain was suspended a wicker cage.

The cage had door, and that door was open.

There was nothing inside.

Sir Ritehart fell to his knees before the altar. His people were in danger. The quest had only wasted time. He crawled over the altar, looking here and there for any sign of the demon's soul. But there was no pebble, no small creature tucked away.

Sir Ritehart looked back at the wicker cage.

A bird's cage.

Sir Ritehart cursed the wizard and his crow. Now he knew why the demon had appeared so suddenly. He dashed from the altar, stuffed the gills into his mouth and swam back through the watery caverns. He emerged in the grotto at nightfall to reclaim his worm spun armor. But it was not there. He searched frantically, clawing the ground beneath the stars. He knew where he'd left it. Where was it? Who could have--?

"Is this what you're looking for?" came a voice.

Sir Ritehart looked up from the moist ground. He saw a figure, a black silhouette set against the wall of fire. Though he did not recognize the man, he knew the voice.

"Bring it to me, Set!" Sir Ritehart cried.

The wizard chuckled. Ritehart had always hated his laugh. Now, he had reason.

"I already have my own armor, of course," Set told him. "I used it when I stole the demon soul. But...I rather like your armor. Such craftsmanship compared to mine. The seamstresses did fine work. Don't you agree?"

"Give it to me!" Sir Ritehart commanded.

"No," came the reply.

The knight got up. He moved toward the wizard. He wanted to kill him, but the wizard stepped back quickly toward the fire. "Why, Set?" Sir Ritehart cried. "What do you want?"

"Want? Oh, I want many things. Mostly what has been yours. I want to win the hunt. I want the undying admiration of my people. I want Risa. Mostly, Sir Ritehart, I want to be rid of you."

Ritehart shouted in disbelief. "For that, you'll see our city destroyed?"

"Oh, no. Even I'm not that cruel. I'll destroy the demon when he breaks through the walls. You can be assured of that, former hero."

With that, the foul wizard turned and disappeared into the wall of fire. Ritehart raced after him. He dove into the flame. The fire chewed at him. It burned his hair and blistered his skin. But he had hold of the wizard, No agony could make him let go. He pulled the weaker man around, and wrestled him from the flames. The open air felt like ice. The struggle was brief. Sir Ritehart got back his own armor, but he wasn't finished. His anger was too great, and he tore Set's own armor from him and threw it through the fiery wall.

"What have you done?" the wizard screamed in anguish. "You can't leave me here!"

Ritehart dressed himself in his own yellow suit

"Enjoy eternity," he said, then marched through the flames.



Sir Ritehart returned to the castle keep just as the curtain was about to fall. He had no hair now. It had all been burned away. His face blistered and bled. Blackened flesh peeled from his arms. Risa wept at the sight of him, but he wasted no time in hurrying up the tower and into Set's room. He found the crow and snatched it from his cage. The bird squawked and pecked at his scabs. Sir Ritehart took him outside. The sun was rising. The air was still, but then the demon flung himself into the wall one last time.

Stone crumbled and dust rose. The people ran screaming as the demon spat venom and charged. Sir Ritehart stumbled toward the creature. He held up the crow in both hands, and he twisted.

The demon stopped cold for just an instant. Its multitude of eyes grew wide, and then it screamed with all the fury of the heavens from its many mouths.

Sir Ritehart tore a wing from the crow. The demon's limbs snapped.

He tore off its beak, and the creature's fangs shattered into dust.

All that was left of the thing was a convulsing heap of flesh and gristle. When Sir Ritehart snapped the crow's neck, the demon burst into fire. Smoke rose into the blue sky. The horror was reduced to a pile of ash in the courtyard. The crow, too, had vanished. Sir Ritehart collapsed to the earth. His flesh was all but burned away, his blood boiled like broth in his veins. Risa Melicles applied ointments and balms to soothe his remaining hours. But Sir Ritehart felt little pain. His eyes saw only the eternal green valley, and there was already the taste of honey upon his scorched lips.

End

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