Darren Shan - Bec (Demonata, Book 4)

The Demonata

Darren Shan

Hachette

Anybody there? Goll shouts. When the silence holds, he adds, Weve come to help. Your boy told us you were in trouble. Were here to

He draws to a halt, since its obvious nobodys going to answer.

Its a ghost village, Ronan says.

Were too late, Connla sniffs.

Maybe not, Fiachna disagrees. They might be sheltering underground, in a souterrain, where they cant hear us.

You two seem to think people do nothing but cower underground, Connla snorts, nodding at Fiachna and Orna. Why dont you just accept the simple truth that when nobody answers a call, it means theyre all dead?

I prefer to hope for the best, Orna says stiffly, even when I can see just as clearly as you that its unlikely.

Smoke bread, Run Fast says bafflingly, leaning over so far that he almost topples into the lake.

Right, Goll says. We havent come all this way to turn back now. If nothing else, the crannog offers a place to rest tonight.

Unless its been taken over by demons, Connla says.

Unless its been taken over by demons, Goll agrees. But we have to check. Lorcan, will you swim across and come back in a curragh for the rest of us?

Lorcans the best swimmer in our tuath. Even when he was twelve years old, he could beat most grown men in a race. He steps forward now and studies the water, looking for demons. He cant see any but that doesnt mean its safe they often hide down deep during the day, to avoid the rays of the sun.

Without saying anything, Lorcan undresses quickly, then dives in and strikes powerfully for the crannog. We watch nervously, Ronan having notched an arrow to his bow, ready to fire instantly if his brother comes under attack.

Lorcan makes it to the crannog unhindered and pulls himself out, pausing only to offer up a quick prayer of thanks to the gods. He brushes water from his stubbly hair it comes off in rusty red drops, colored by the blood caked into his scalp. Then he unties a leather-framed curragh and rows across to where were waiting, hard strokes, one eye on the setting sun.

Lorcan, Goll, Run Fast, and Orna cross first. Then Lorcan rows back to pick up Ronan, Fiachna, Connla, and me. At the gate I test the air for the scent of demons. Its clear. I dont think there are monsters in the village but I cant be certain.

Will we try the gate or go over the fence? Goll asks.

The gates open, Fiachna says.

Goll squints, then chuckles. I was never the sharpest with two eyes, but with only one... He looks around. Well go in fast. Any sign of trouble, retreat to the gate. Based on what were facing, well decide then whether to fight or flee.

Deep breath. Weapons drawn. A signal from Goll. In.

* * *

No demons. No people either. Just a few chickens and lots of blood. While we stand a few paces inside the gate, Run Fast chases after the chickens, laughing. They squawk and flap away from him. With his speed he could catch them easily, but hes only playing with them.

Do you think theyre all dead? Orna asks, eyes narrow, nose wrinkled against the stench of fresh blood.

Unless theyre hiding, Goll grunts.

We should check the huts, Fiachna says.

Aye. Goll points at Ronan, Fiachna, Connla, and me. You four go right. The rest of us will go left. Well meet in the middle if alls clear.

What about Run Fast? I ask.

Goll looks at the boy chasing the chickens. I dont think hed be much help.

We set off quickly, each of us aware of the rapidly setting sun. Its almost the time of the Fomorii.

The first hut. Holes have been torn in the walls, so its easy to peer in. Floor caked in drying blood but otherwise empty. No trapdoor or hiding place. We push on.

The second huts smaller than the first. A tiny entrance. No holes in the walls. Dark pools of shadows. We stick our heads through the doorway, allowing our eyes to adjust to the gloom. Objects gradually swim into sight. Pots, a small table, a broken chair. Rugs on the floor there could be a souterrain beneath. We slide in, Ronan first, me last, looking up for winged demons hanging from the thatch. The men search beneath the rugs nothing. They file out. Im bringing up the rear, almost through the door, when something breathes behind me.

Beccccccc

I stopturn eyes wide heart beating fast. I stare into the shadows. I cant see anything but I know Im not alone. I want to duck out of the door or call for help but I cant. My tongue is frozen, not with fear but magic.

Long, terrifying seconds pass. Then, in a blur, claws dart out of the darknessa twisted face fiery eyesa savage mouth filled with rows of teeth the demon grabs me!

I NSTANT reaction magic. I dont waste time screaming. I bark a spell, my lips moving quicker than ever before. My hands heat up. Then, instead of wrenching my arms away, which is what the demon expects, I grab its claws tightly and try to scorch them to scraps.

It doesnt work. As my hands glow, the claws grasping me glow too. Brighter and brighter, the pair of us, a contest. For several seconds we are locked together, no words, my gaze fixed on my hands and the claws. Then I start noticing details not claws but hands. Smooth flesh, eight fingers, two thumbs. Dark flesh but not demon dark human dark.

I bring my eyes up but I cant see my attackers face because of the magical glow. A swift inner debate. Then I let the power drain from me. The light dies away. Shadows reform. It takes my eyes a while to adjust, but when they do I see that I was right its a man, not a monster. And hes smiling.

Good, the man says. You have magic a bit anyway and common sense. Youll do. Then he brushes past me, out of the hut, and summons the others with a far-reaching call. You can stop searching. Its safe. There are no demons here. Now come and find out why I sent the boy to fetch you.

* * *

The strangers name is Drust and as we immediately see by his long blue tunic and shaved, tattooed head hes a druid. After calling us together and telling us his name, Drust doesnt speak for a long time. Instead, he builds a fire and casts a spell to prevent smoke and contain the glow within the crannog, so as not to attract demons. After a while he takes hot rocks from the fire with his bare fingers and places them in a pit filled with water. When the water is the right heat, he drops in chunks of meat wrapped in straw.

We sit silently, eyeing Drust suspiciously, waiting for him to speak. Ive never seen a druid before. Wandering men of minor magic, yes, but never one of the legendary seers. His tattoos are amazing. Theyre a map of the stars, but they move like the stars do, slowly revolving across his scalp.

When the meat is cooking to Drusts satisfaction, he stands before us and runs a calculating eye over the group, one by one, judging. His eye seems to rest longest on me, but maybe I just imagine that.

Were all tense. We have tremendous respect for druids, but we fear them too. Theyre human, but something else as well, powerful, with rules and ways of their own. Weve heard tales of how they sacrifice children to the gods, breed with demons, build mountains, level raths, and divert the course of rivers.

Finally, Drust looks at Run Fast. He smiles at the boy, then clicks his fingers. Run Fast edges over to him like a dog to its master. Drust ruffles the boys untidy hair, his smile widening. You did well, Bran, he says.

Bran! I gasp. Is that his name? He never told us. We called him Run Fast because... Drust looks at me calmly and I come to a halt. Theres no menace in his eyes, but no warmth either. He studies me in much the same way that Ive studied dead demons in the past.

Yes, the druid says in an accent not of this land. Its Bran. He didnt tell you because hes incapable of remembering names. Drust speaks slowly, the words sounding strange on his lips. I dont think our language is his own.