LITMIR.BIZ

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      He rubbed his shoulder, which still hurt a little.

      Esara looked pensive. “Demons are creatures of the Other World. They only come when they are called or when someone sends them. Then they can exist in this world and are unstoppable.”

      “But you stopped the demon. You, by yourself. You told me what to do and your voice was stronger than the demon’s roar.” Nill suddenly saw Esara through different eyes.

      “I can’t remember that,” Esara said quietly. “But that wasn’t me. No, to stop a demon you have to be a powerful warlock or mage, and even then success is uncertain. Demons are companions to feelings and memories. It must have followed your chagrin, your anger or your disappointment. I should have known that the dancing runes were presaging something... but a demon! I had not expected that. Whatever you felt, the only way to banish the demon was to replace your feelings with a different memory.”

      “But I wasn’t angry. Just confused. Does that mean that whenever I don’t understand something that demon is going to come?” Nill sounded uncertain.

      “No, only if the feelings are very strong and have been lying dormant for a long time. And if the person is accessible for the powers of the Other World.”

      Nill tried to understand what Esara was telling him. “So I’m one of the people who are...” Nill hesitated over the strange word. “Accessible?”

      “I don’t know. You did not meet in this or the Other World, but somewhere betwixt. I could not see the demon, so he wasn’t here. I could not see you clearly either, a part of you had already gone. There is an old song about Mortar the Seeker. He went to the mid-realm. That’s all I know.”

      “So you don’t know what it looked like? It was a beast made up of many different animals.” Nill eagerly described the demon in all detail and Esara drew defensive runes in the air, shocked.

      “If I could not feel his presence here, I would agree and say it was all a dream, for the demon you just described is called Bucyngaphos. And he is no ordinary demon; he is one of their three lords. The legends say that Bucyngaphos looks different for every person. Only two things remain the same in all accounts. For one, he is always made up of different animals, for another, he always stands on the legs of a bird of prey. But you must be mistaken.”

      “Why? I just told you what I saw.”

      “Only the old ones in myths from the early time of this world, when here and there were still the same, have ever stood face to face with the Archdemons. Since then the worlds of humans and the Archdemons have been separated, far apart. The mightiest demons a person can still call or summon are the demons of pure emotion. There is Odioras, the Demon of Cold Hate, Irasemion, Demon of Wild Rage, and Avarangan, Lord of Blind Greed. The demons of false love, powerless fear and lust for success are terrible creatures too, but I know little of them. The Archdemons are the keepers for these beings. They are from a world that existed even before ours. No mortal may call them, no warlock summon them.”

      “But he came to me. Isn’t that right?” Nill asked, feeling something akin to pride in his chest at being one of the chosen few.

      “He came to take you. But why? Why?” Esara hid her head in her arms and Nill’s pride deflated as he saw his mother’s desperation.

      The encounter with the demon lay over Grovehall like a shadow. On the outside, one day followed another. Esara attended to her duties and Nill wandered around in the hills. Only the evenings were awful, when they discussed the day or stared at the Stone of Prophecy, thinking of nothing but that terrible night. And when they finally went to sleep, even slumber did not grant them rest.

      Esara knew that it was not good for Nill to wander around on his own all day. Thus, she often took him with her when she had to fill up her stock of fruits, roots and herbs. Nill aided her while they gathered plants and sometimes his sharp eyes found rare roots Esara had been seeking for ages. But this was no adequate activity for a boy who grew stronger and bigger by the day. He still was smaller and lighter than the other children of his age but his face had begun to lose its soft, round shapes, and the first lines were starting to dig in around his mouth.

      The boy needs work, Esara thought.

      The opportunity came when by chance the Reeve obtained a herd of sheep as payment for an open debt. He would sell them to the next best buyer who offered a decent price, but until then someone had to take care of them. The Reeve could have entrusted them to a shepherd, but then the animals would have been separated every evening, and so the Reeve was quite relieved when Esara made a suggestion. From that day forth Nill led the animals into the hills every day, returning before the sun had set every evening. It was one of fate’s many vagaries that Nill was to take care of the herd belonging to the very man whose son had hurt him so profoundly. But the adults tended to know little about their children.

      Buyers came and went. Either they named a price too low, or they could not pay on the spot, or they offered to barter with wares the Reeve was not interested in. Four more harvests passed and nothing happened apart from the herd growing and Nill getting older. The memory of the demon faded under the sun’s glaring rays, and the nights lost their terror.

      Nill sat with the animals in the hills and waited. Esara waited in Grovehall. In the evenings the villagers stood outside their houses and cottages and waited. Everyone waited. But nobody knew what they were waiting for.

      Only a fool confuses waiting with faineance. The villagers went about their daily business, the hunters ranged through the bushes in the hopes of finding a few animals and the shepherds stood with a watchful eye by their herds. Nill, surrounded by his herd, looked up to the sky, as if he hoped to find something there. He studied the movement and the shape of the clouds, learned to interpret the birds’ flight, and discovered the taste with which the wind changed direction, and even its speech. The wind spoke differently to the animals, who told their stories with their ears, tails and bodies when they came to him or even argued with him. “He who looks for friends should look to the animals,” an old proverb went. But was that true for all animals?

      It was a day like any other, but Nill suddenly had the feeling that he was not alone. On a flat hilltop stood an old ram. He had come from nowhere, and with the glaring sun behind him he was nothing more than a pitch-black shadow to Nill’s blinded eyes. He turned his massive neck with his great horns slowly towards Nill, eyeing him curiously. The old ram was large, defensive and tough, and he came closer with a few hesitant steps. His withers were as high as Nill’s waist and the horns reached his chest. The hind legs were bony and skinny, as with all rams, but this ram’s ribs were also visible under the half-torn spring coat. It was a mystery to Nill how an animal could be so thin despite the good spring grass everywhere. But any tidings of pity died down as soon as he looked the animal in the eye. Nill had never seen eyes like that in a ram. They were slanted like a wildcat’s, large as those of a duskflyer’s and golden-yellow like the wings of a God moth.

      The ram circled around the herd, stared over to Nill, checked every single sheep and took a watching post close to the herd. This strange ram was much to Nill’s liking. It amused him to watch the ram, so he decided to let him be. It’ll be an animal that lost its herd and is looking for a new home, he thought in his youthful carelessness. But when Nill got up to take his herd to the other side of the hill to get them out of the direct sun, the ram stepped up. He was not having some stranger take over his newly-found herd. He lowered his great head, pointed his horn in his enemy’s direction and charged.

      A ram is not a wild beast that lusts for man-flesh. In a hustle in the herd a few sharp blows with a stick are usually enough to restore order. As such, Nill was surprised by the sudden attack, but not concerned. He let the ram approach him, side-stepped him and gave him a mighty kick that caused him to fall over. The ram stood back up again, shook his fleece, went a few steps backwards, scratched the ground with his hooves, lowered his head and charged again. The pounding of his hooves against the hard earth beneath gave Nill enough warning to turn about, the new attack merely passing his waist. Nevertheless, Nill fell over, rolled and got up, quite disconcerted.

      That

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