Le Jeune Guilavene

Chapter 7:


Something was happening. He could sense it at the very tip of his consciousness. A nagging feeling he had not felt many seasons now. Like warmth and electricity after a summer storm.
But it still was not strong enough.
He sent out an energy pulse, testing the strength of his prison. It held firm, but it was weakening. A sly grin crossed his face and opened his a crimson eye. Still an endless white, but if he looked close enough he could make out flashes of blue lightening.
Ah! That was it. That powerful electric shock.
Some fool had summoned him. Finally, finally he would see the sun and smell the air.
Finally, he would taste blood again!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The demon blinked and looked around. He had not had any expectations,
but he never would have imagined being summoned to... whatever this place was. He scanned the dark stone corridor, the architecture strange to him, until his gaze fell upon a pair of humans. He eyed them doubtfully, wondering what they were doing here. Servants perhaps? No, they were armed and looked ready to fight him. Stupid creatures.
His senses detected familiar energy and he turned his head towards someone else. Someone with his sword.
“And who the hell are you?”
“Van,” he answered without thinking, and flinched.
He really did not need another demon knowing his name. One was bad enough. The pale creature rose to its feet and stretched, unmindful of his nudity. He flexed his claw-like fingernails, watching them grow and retract with each simple movement. After several moments of personal inspection, he turned his crimson eyes back towards his summoner, ignoring the other men all together.
“So you are my captor this time?” he sneered.
It was human, the one who had released him. Not even an adult human. He was short, skinny, and colored like dirt and mud. Completely pathetic.
Understanding suddenly dawned on the little demon as he looked into those dark confused eyes. It had been a mistake. His summoner had not known what he was doing when he awakened him, perhaps he did not even know what power he held in his hands. A sinister smile curled over his teeth, revealing his pearly white fangs.
Van was immediately on his guard, bring up his weapon as the demon child stalked towards him.
“Halt, demon!” Allen commanded, his sword ready for attack.
The pale demon paused to regard them and then disregard then as he moved closer, his fingers twitching slightly as he drew nearer. The human boy did not run. He was a hunter and knew the dangers of running from a predator that was faster than you. The pale creature had to admit, the boy had guts.
And in a moment, they would scattered across the floor.
“Die!” he screeched in a inhuman cry, and sprang upon with his claws drawn and ready.
The dark child instinctively crossed his arms over his head to protect his face, the sword still clutched in his hand. The demon fell back, as if it had been kicked in the stomach while in mid-flight. He smashed against the corridor’s stone wall before falling to the floor, his pale limbs trembling from pain.
Slowly, it sat up again and turned to hiss at Van, but did not attempt another attack. Allen and Gaddes surrounded him in a heartbeat, their swords poised at his throat and spine if he should try and move again.
“Who are you, demon? How did you get here?” snapped the prince, pressing his sword dangerously close to its slender neck.
The albino turned its hateful gaze from its summoner to the blonde man and flashed him a grin, a high ominous chuckled rising in its throat but no reply.
Van studied him intently for a moment and then his ivory sword, still glowing blue and cackling with power. A theory grew within his mind and he was quick to test.
“Tell me your name,” the young hunter commanded, his grip tightening around blade.
The demon turned his bright red eyes back to him and grit his teeth, fighting the word coming into his mouth.
“Your name!” he snapped, more forceful this time.
It cringed and trembled as if in pain, its clawed hands clenching and unclenching, but he could not suppress his unnatural desire to obey this time.
“Dilandu.”
“Dilandu,” Van repeated, testing the name on his tongue.
It would appear his theory was right. For whatever reason, Dilandu was bound to the sword and was therefore bound to him. You think they would have mentioned this before giving it to him?! Another thought occurred to him. Could this be the magical power the Gold Sword had predicted for him?
He mentally groaned. He was getting a headache trying to sort all of this out and was still hungry. He really did not want to deal with this at the moment.
“Dilandu, return to the sword,” he commanded, holding out the blade.
A look of pure outrage crossed the creature’s face just before seemed glow light blue and disappeared. The ivory sword glowed more intently for a moment before fading into ordinary white.
The three remaining men all looked at each other, confusion written on their expressions. Van let out a deep sigh and bowed slightly to Allen.
“I’m sorry, your highness, but I have changed my mind about selling the sword,” he stated.
With that said, he quickly turned on his heels and dashed down the hallways, before they could collect themselves enough to follow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Allen and Gaddes stared out over the afternoon crowds outside the amphitheater and knew immediately their search would be futile. The boy was gone, taking with him a cursed object holding a demon.
“Just what the hell happened?”
“I am not certain, Gaddes, but our young friend seems to have inadvertently summoned a demon.”
“Well, this sucks.”
“Agreed.”
Allen frowned and tried to think of plan of action. A sword controlling a demon had the potential to be extremely dangerous, both to the wielder and his victims. He was not an expert of cursed objects, but his time spent under the tutelage of the famous demon hunter Balgus had educated him to some of the dangers. The most widely known was that a cursed object fed off its owner’s energy, and the more it was used the more energy it took. If that demon sword sucked away too much of Van’s energy it could kill him and possibly release a very angry demon upon the populous of Austoria. It was imperative that they find Van and the sword as quickly as possible.
“Mm... I don’t think we will be able to find him, today. We would not even know where to begin to look,’ Allen admitted reluctantly, ‘But perhaps we can find out more about the sword? I cannot believe that the official would have knowingly given out a cursed object.”
“I don’t know. They are idiots.”
“Yes, I suppose they are, but even they aren’t that bad,” the prince said.
They spent the afternoon tracking down the registrator. The greasy little man reassured them he had no idea that it was a cursed object, and had in fact bought it from a reputable swords merchant by the name of Dryden Stefanus.
They found the sword merchant around sunset, just as the man was beginning to close up shop. The roguish-looking salesman was waving good night to his rather lovely helper as she bounced away, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she went. He turned to his new guests and regarded them through his yellow tinted glasses. Recognition dawned on him, and he grinned and bowed.
“Good evening, your grace, what brings you to my humble dwelling?”
“We’ve come for information regarding a sword you have sold,” Gaddes stated, eyeing the merchant suspiciously.
“Ah, I see. Would you gentlemen please step inside? My neighbors are gossips,” he said cheerfully.
The two friends shared a look and nodded, following him into the little shop. Inside, the store was very clean and tidy. It was tactfully decorated with dark polished wood and red velvet, the air smelling faintly of polish and leather. Swords of every style and age lined the wall, along with many more obscure types of weaponry not commonly found anymore. They were all in beautiful condition and masterfully designed, though not a single one was purely ornamental. It was indeed a very fine shop, and if the merchant proved to be honest, Allen thought he might come back again to browse the
merchandise more closely.
The man led them to a back room, filled with his more rare and valuable
weapons and sat them at a large circular table.
“May I offer you some tea or something eat?” he offered, politely.
“No, we merely want to ask you about the sword and then we shall be on our way.”
Dryden looked slightly disappointed, but continued to smile and took a seat across from them. He gestured for them to continue.
“Do you remember selling a sword to the Grand Registrator of Games?’ Allen began, ‘It was ornamental sword and had an ivory sheath with a great cat carved into it and gold bands.”
“Gentlemen, I do not sell ornamental swords. It is a matter of professional pride on my part. But I do believe I know what sword you are talking about. A very fine weapon, despite its fancy exterior. If you had examined in more closely you would have noticed the blade was double edged and made of very fine steel. The balance was a little off, but it is a very old sword. Why do ask?”
“There was a demon inside of it,” Gaddes stated blandly.
Dryden merely blinked at them for a moment, not quite understanding what had just been said to them. Then a most heart broken look crossed his face and he buried his head in his hands.
“I should have asked for more,” he murmured.
“What?:

The merchant quickly sat up and smiled cheerfully.
“I meant, what a shame. If I had known I would have reported it when I found it,” he said.
The two swordsmen shared a look.
“So you did not know that it was a cursed object?” Allen asked.
“No, no, of course not. Well... there was legend attached to it, but you know all these antiques have some story behind them. Most of them are all nonsense and are just made up by the owners to impress people.”
The prince raise a regal eyebrow.
“What legend?”
The merchant sighed, he wished they had let him make tea first.
“Alright. You want the whole story? The sword is said to hold captive a great demon prince. A demon called Zongi imprisoned him there for some insult he made towards his master, the Strategos,” he explained.
“Strategos? That name sounds familiar,” Allen said, trying to think of where he had heard it.
“It should. He is a very famous demon. He’s also known as the Demon Merchant. He is notorious for doing favors for humans in exchange to for their unborn children. In fact, that is how the sword ended up in the hands of men. The Strategos traded this powerful sword to some fool and took his twin daughters when they were born. Of course he did not mention the fact the blade was completely useless without his blessing. The idiot,” Dryden snorted in disgust.
“What do you mean by ‘blessing’?” the prince asked anxiously.
“Hm?”
“You said no one could use the blade unless they had the Strategos’ blessing. What did you mean by that?”
The merchant regarded him curiously, but answered easily.
“As in the Strategos has bestowed a gift or positive influence on someone. Demons leave a magical signature on those they interact with. Depending on their feelings that signature can have positive or negative effects. Sometimes both if the demon has mixed feelings. Uh... Why?”
Allen did not answer immediately. This new information passed through him and was picked apart bit by bit, trying to decipher all the possible meanings. For Van to have been able to wield that sword, he would have had to have the blessing of a demon? What could he have possibly done to get a demon’s blessing? A demon who steals infants, no less?! Was that why the boy had refused his offer to join the royal guards? Because he is under the influence of a demon? Could he be a spy? Could he even be a demon himself?
Questions without answers swam in his mind, making his head hurt. He groaned and rubbed his temple, regarding the merchant through his fingers.
“It would seem one of today’s contestants had the Strategos’ blessing, and is currently running around the city unsupervised with your demon sword.”
“Mm... well, that sucks. Are you sure you do not want some tea?”
The looks they sent him definitely said ‘no‘. He merely chuckled.
“Do not worry so much. This person was blessed by the Strategos, not Alba Kanai or Gurgaguras. It is doubtful they are going to try to torch the city or something so devastating,” he reassured them.
“I am sorry, but I cannot afford to be as flippant about this matter as you, merchant. I have a responsibility to protect this city and all those who live here,” snapped the prince.
“Ah, yes. I almost forgot that you are also captain of the Royal Guard. I feel safer already knowing such a honorable and earnest man is on the job,” Dryden said, in a tone that could not be identified as mocking or completely complimentary.
“Where are you going?” Gaddes asked, as the man got up.
“You might not want any tea, but I do. Tell me if you changer your mind,” the merchant said and bowed on his way out.
When he had left, the two friends turned to one another.
“What are you thinking, boss?”
“I’m thinking it is a good thing the boy turned down my offer,” the prince said flatly.
“What are you going to do about him?”
Allen sighed.
“I do not know. He is still technically a minor and not entirely responsible for his actions. We also have no idea what connection he might have with the Strategos. We cannot even be sure if all of this merchant’s information is accurate. T here are too many factors to consider,” he said tiredly.
After a moment’s thought he added, “I will put out an alert to have him arrested on sight. We will just have to question him and work the matter out that Th The sword will be confiscated and destroyed. Hopefully, our young friend has a good explanation. I really do not want to have to execute him.”
Gaddes looked pleased with his answer, and he felt a little better. The roguish merchant entered shortly after carrying a tea tray and set it before them.
“I could not help but over hear you say ‘young friend‘. This ‘young friend’ may not perchance be a gangly looking youth by the name Van, would it?”
They looked at him in surprise.
“How did you know?” Gaddes asked.
“I happened to meet him yesterday morning. A rather spirited young fellow with the ambition of becoming a demon hunter if I remember correctly. Uh oh. Now that I think about it, it was me who suggested he enter the tournament. Quite the coincidence, na?”
He laughed lightly to himself. Gaddes slammed his fist on the table.
“Shut up! This isn’t funny at all!” he growled.
Dryden stopped laughing, but he was still grinning emphatically. Allen felt a chuckle rise in his throat as he watched him.
“Boss!” his second in command said in exasperation.
The prince’s chuckle turned into a cough.
“Ah! See, you need some tea after all,” the cheerful man said and poured him a cup.
Gaddes rolled his eyes. This man was impossible and manipulative. A typical merchant.
“You said he wanted to become a demon hunter? How do you know this?” he
asked Dryden, trying to get back on topic.
“Because he told me so. I met him on the way into the city. I examined his sword- a very fine piece- and we fell into conversation. He mentioned he wanted to become a demon hunter, but I told him he would have to wait till next season to sign up for training. He had no money, so I suggested he enter the tournament. I am glad to hear he did so well. He really seemed down on his luck,” he replied.
He sat down and began to play with the tip of his ponytail, but discreetly studied their every movement and expression. He felt an opportunity was soon going to be presenting itself, and the dealer in him fully intended tadvaadvantage of it.
Allen was looking very serious as he glared at his cup of tea. His second-in-command, however, seemed more worried about Dryden’s discreet scrutiny than the current threat. He really did not like the gleam in the merchant’s eyes.
“If he is in favor with the Strategos, why would he want to join the demon hunters? Unless ... unless he is a spy,’ the royal guard’s captain deduced. ‘This might be more serious than I first realized.”
Dryden gave him a confused look.
Perhaps you shouldn’t jump to any conclusions until there is more information. You should probably just stick to your original plan and capture the boy first. I am sure this all a misunderstanding,” he suggested.
“Mm. You are right.”
Allen rose to his feet and Gaddes quickly joined him. The young prince bowed respectfully.
“We thank you for your assistance. I t is greatly appreciated,” the blond said sincerely and began to leave.
“You are welcome. If you get that sword back would you mind selling it back to me, it would be a shame to lose such a priceless artifact,” Dryden asked, beaming into his tea cup.
Allen looked back at him and ruefully shook his head.
I am sorry, but the sword with be destroyed. It could be very dangerous in the wrong hands.”
A horrified expression crossed the merchant’s face, but Gaddes noticed his grip on his cup did not waver or tighten.
But you can’t! That will release the demon for sure!” Dryden exclaimed.
“What do you mean?”
“The sword is the actual prison for the demon. If it is destroyed the demon will be freed, and what you fear will come true.”
The prince looked suddenly pained.
“I fear I am not very knowledgeable in matters relating to demons. If Lord Balgus was here I would leave this matter to him, but he left to train his cadets at Rolves. This is a very tricky situation,” he muttered and began to massage his temple again.
Dryden just found his opportunity.
“I have an idea,” he began.
“I bet you do,” muttered Gaddes under his breath.
The merchant ignored him.
“It just so happens that I have an educational degree in demonology and am quite educated with both demons and cursed objects. I am more than willing to offer my services to you... for a price of course.”
“Of course.”
Dryden gave the other brunette a dark look.
Allen looked thoughtful for moment, unsure of the merchant’s intentions and exactly how high a price he was likely to demand. He did not have much of a choice, however. If he did not handle this situation quickly and effectively there could be serious repercussion effecting his beloved city. He sighed.
“Very well.”
The merchant handed him back his cup of tea, a huge grin spread across his face.
“Good. Now lets discuss my price.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Van had fled from the amphitheater, he had run head long into the market crowd. It was jammed packed with people on their way back from the very tournament he had won. Many of them recognized him and stopped him in the streets to congratulate and compliment him on his excellent match. His first intention had been to try to find another food stand and work for something to eat, but he soon found that unnecessary. He was invited by a group of young fans to lunch at local restaurant, and he quickly excepted.
Despite his impatience to examine his bizarre prize, he knew he needed to eat while he still could. So he sat patiently with the over zealous boys as they described in exaggerated detail what they saw when he fought. It seemed to him so immature and childish in their loudness and simple amusement, even though some of them were slightly older than himself. He felt very alone suddenly, and when their food arrived he focused on his food instead of speaking. Not that they noticed.
The revered young swordsman thanked them politely for the meal, but declined their offers of room and board for the night. He still had the Strategos to worry about and he did not wish to repay their hospitality with his potentially lethal problems. Van said he might see them again at the next tournament and they seemed more than appeased at the idea. Alone, he wondered the city with only the scraw to keep him company.
About an hour before sunset, he found a little man-made stream running right through the center of Palas. It was clearly there for recreational purposes, because as he followed it several little parks with meticulously maintained gardens and bridged sprang up on either side. Around dusk, he found a little patch of green grass along the stream with several tall floweriusheushes hiding it from view. It was also conveniently deserted. Most of the recreationalists had left to begin their relatively long trek back to the housing district of the city before it got dark.
Van sat there and studied the ivory sword in dying light of the setting sun. His anger at the stadium had clouded his sense of appreciation for the weapon. What he had previously thought was only a pretty piece of junk was, in fact, a very brilliantly designed piece. The blade, which he had not bothered looking at before, was curved just a little more than was usual, but was still incredible sharp on both sides. He pondered any possible reasons, and his only conclusion was it was much easier to slit someone’s throat without having to change the swords position. The thought made him shiver.
There were no hand guards to keep ones hands from sliding down the handle to the blade, but there were small grooves where his fingers wrapped around and kept the movement down to a minimal. The only real flaws Van could find in the design was that the sheath was too heavy and blade was slightly heavier on the curved side of the blade. Nothing that would impair the fighter who practiced regularly with it.
But the sword’s craftsmanship was not what occupied his thoughts. No, what really kept his mind reeling was the demon inside of it. The Sword Card had mentioned a magical thing, not a magical person! A thing he could probably handle, but a demon? Well, perhaps he could handle that too. Perhaps he would have to.
Van turned his brown eyes to the flock of ebony spies watching him from the safety of some trees. They regarded him and his new weapon cusly,sly, their beady red eyes never blinking. It was dusk and they still had not left as they usually did. The young hunter knew Folken would come for him tonight. Even in the middle of Palas, he could not hide from him any longer. If he kept running, the demon would just find a better way to track him and if he fought... as things stood now he would not stand a chance.
His only hope lay in the sword and the demon inside of it. If he could somehow fully control it, he might be able to use Dilandu against the Strategist until he was prepared to face him. He would not allow his demon to kill him, of course. That was something he had to do himself to avenge his father and reclaim his honor.
Well, there was no time like the present to get started.
The boy racked his brain for moment, trying to remember exactly how he had summoned the demon in the first place. He had handled it rather thoroughly before it had done anythinHe tHe tried holding it in the same position he had used to hand it to Allen, but nothing. He tried taking off his gloves and touching it. Still, nothing.
“Come out, you stupid demon!” he growled in frustration.
Immediately, the sword began to glow. It did not take nearly as long as it had the first time for the demon to appear. There was not even a flash. There was a sort of ‘poof’ sound and some bluish smoke, and there the demon was, sitting on the grass and glaring at him hateful. Van felt rather disappointed.
“Who are you calling stupid, you insipid little fool?” Dilandu snapped.
The boy raised an eyebrow. The albino was in no position to call him little. Looking at him now, Van noticed a lot he had not in the darkened corridor of the amphitheater. For one, he was just as short for his age as he himself was. Also, this rather snappish creature was ridiculously cute. His eyes, while red and still kind of creepy, were large and round like little kid. He had a tiny button nose. And what he guessed was suppose to be a scowl, looked suspiciously like a pout to him. All this on a round face and baby soft skin. Hmm ... perhaps he should have sold the sword after all.
“What are you looking at, pervert?!”
Oh yeah, he had forgotten the demon had no clothes.
“You’re a lot shorter than I first thought. Did living in a sword stunt your growth?” he asked blithely.
A muscled twitched just under his red eye.
“No you retard! I’m a demon! I decided to stop aging a long time ago!” he hissed.
Van raised an eyebrow and ran his eyes quickly over his slender form.
“Perhaps you should start again.”
“Bastard!” Dilandu screeched and leapt for him.
The young human tightened his grip on the sword and held it before him. The albino fell back with a yelp, rolling a ways into a bush. Hm, that was incredibly simple. The dark haired boy looked at his sword and to the demon, smirking.
“Do you understand who is in charge now or do I have to order you to jump
into the stream?”
The demon glared at him as he climbed out of the bush. He glanced at the stream, grimaced, and sat a few feet away- pouting.
“With that out of the way, lets get down to business. I am Van. You are Dilandu. I’m being pursued by a demon. You are going to help me fight him. Any questions?”
“Who the hell do you think you are?! Like I would ever fight against my own kind for some scrawny little peasant boy! I am a prince, for the love of Gods! You should be groveling, right now!” the demon ranted, continuing to vent all of his frustration before he was inevitably forced to shut up again.
But it never happened.
Instead of the little human commanding him to shut up, he sat there and listened patiently to his very long and detailed rant of exactly why he was so much better than the boy and the injustice of someone of his station being forced to serve him. When he was finally certain he had stated everything he wanted to say, he stopped and looked at the human for a response. The boy regarded him thoughtfully, and Dilandu thought just for a moment that he would come to his senses and release him.
“That’s nice. But you’re still going to help me,” he finally said.
“Were you not listening to a thing I said?!” the albino snapped.
Van nodded and smiled.
“Yes, but I am not in a position to let you go right now. My life is at stake, and personally my life has more significance than the freedom of some irate demon brat,” he explained.
Dilandu was about to say something vindictive, but the boy had turn his gaze upward and pointed. The demon followed boy’s arm to a flock of scraw watching them from a tree.
“They have been following me for almost twenty days now, and where they are their master is never far behind,” Van said, watching Dilandu from the corner of his eyes as the albino studied the birds curiously.
“Only the strongest of demons can charm birds as smart as these,’ the
pale boy stated, and looked at Van suspiciously. ‘What could you have done
to piss off a demon that powerful?”
The dark child looked away, staring at the falling sun, his eyes distant and sad. Perhaps if he was fast enough, he could cut his throat before he could retaliate. Too late.
“It does not matter,” Van said.
Dilandu made an irritated sound and look back up at the birds.
“Will you at least tell me who you want me to fight against?”
“He’s a Strategos by the name of Folken.”
The demon snapped his head back to him so quickly, he reflexively raised his sword in defense. Dilandu did not attack him, however. Instead he stalked slowly closer, his bright red eyes shining with excitement.
“What name did you say?” he asked, a dark sinister smile crossing his face, truly befitting of a demon prince.