Jonis - Rowan Erlking (web based ebook reader .TXT) 📗

Grobis really did give it to you. I had heard he retired. You know, that blade has been broken once. It looks like it has been through the mill now.”

Still on guard, Jonis regained control of his runaway breathing. “I’ve put it to good use.”

“Well, don’t use it on me,” Sisirk said. “I’m not going to kill you. The bounty on your head is piddling. A farmer’s fee. Not worth the trouble.”

Jonis lowered his sword. “Then what are you picking on me for?”

Bursting into a great laugh, Sisrik sheathed his sword. “It’s fun. Besides, you should know some men might kill you for free—or at least try to.”

That was a clear warning. Jonis knew it. He put his sword back in its sheath. “Why are you telling me this?”

With a grin, Sisrik walked up the steps to him. “Because, Captain Powal is my friend, and he likes you. Besides, I’m not stupid enough to take you on. I know enough about grown Cordril hunters not to bother. But you be careful. There are some men stupid enough to try it, and others that hate you more than I ever could. So, kid, watch your back.”

Jonis watched the hunter walk away, ponderng what he meant by that.

The setting sun now made the white stone seem orange. Jonis trudged up the steps back to the capitol building, showing his military pass to the guards at the gates. Inside, he stared at the pristine whiteness that reflected the sunset over the city rooftops, wondering at it and the recent events.

When he entered in for dinner, the palace staff ushered Jonis to the servant’s eating hall to take his meal instead of in the dining room. There would be no more honorable feasts with the Patriarch. The flashy welcome was already over.

Jonis ignored the other servants of the household skirting around him into the hall for their own meals as the food was carried to the table. He saw bread, some meat, and a few vegetables. With the normal fare again, Jonis knew that he was expected to settle in as part of the operation without any more to-do. Following the household staff to the door where others were gathered and eating quickly at the table, he stopped short.

There, Lt. Gillway stood in the doorway, glaring at him.

“What did I do? Why do you look mad at me?” Jonis exclaimed, passing by his friend to get a serving of food from off the table without making the other servants more nervous.

Lt. Gillway shoved an official paper at Jonis with a clenched fist. “Read it.”

Jonis took the paper. He read it silently, blinking twice then rereading the words. He drew in a breath.

Looking up, Jonis gasped. “Oh, Merkam. I am so sorry.”

“Shut up, Lieutenant,” Lt. Gillway snapped. “Because of you, I’m stuck in the city.”

Looking at the paper, Jonis saw it was so. The Patriarch had declared that Lt. Gillway was still needed to control the Cordril demon, Jonis Macoy, so that he would fulfill all military duties. It was as he had feared. It made sense now why they were never separated for different demon hunting teams. He had always been regarded as a threat. Sisrik’s warning jumped back at Jonis as confirmation. And now his friend was stuck in Danslik.

Immediately an idea jumped into Jonis’s head. “Well, just ask for your lady to move here! This city is very beautiful. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Oh, shut up!” Lt. Gillway dropped into a chair. “Here I am stuck babysitting you, when I could be having a life.”

Jonis frowned. “You never said being with me was babysitting before.”

Lt. Gillway ignored him, muttering over their muttonchops.

Jonis took his seat. He watched his friend as his own insides trembled with dread. Was this how it was going to be from now on?

 

Jonis went hunting that night. He killed two Night Stalkers, then turned their bodies over to the police. However, he felt no accomplishment or satisfaction from it. Walking home in the dark felt tragically lonelier than he ever felt in all his life. Here, he was a feared demon killer—and yet for the first time he felt he was betraying his own kind.

Killing demons to no purpose filled him with trepidation. The justness of the job lacked. What Jonis wanted more was to find the murderer that drew in the Night Stalkers and bring him to justice. But here, Jonis knew was merely a pawn for the politically powerful. And justice would become nothing but a fairytale.

Staring at the Stalkers he had killed, things did not feel right. Life did not feel right. In his heart, Jonis felt the walls of this city were his own personal demon trap.

 

Chapter Twenty-one: Up to No Good

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“A magic user cannot manipulate the orbit of the moon because it is out of the reach of our world’s flow,

but he can manipulate the rotation of our world making it look like the moon is standing still.”

 

 

 

 

 

Danslik was a very uppity town. Jonis was bored with it even after the first day. The soldiers were invited to parties at night to rub elbows with the upper crust—but the real reason for the invite seemed to be that they wanted bodyguards from the Night Stalkers. Jonis realized that he was growing as cynical as Sgt. Higges. Watching the women flirt and the men brag, being polite to his face and yet as backbiting as ever as soon as he walked to another part of the room, he was weary of it.

Jonis spent his eighteenth birthday entertaining a group of ladies at a masked ball with stories of adventure and demon hunting. It was fashionable among the wealthy and decadent to scare themselves silly with tales of gore. Obliging them, Jonis gave his renditions of their hunting jobs—with color. Lt. Gillway attended the balls with him, but Jonis’s old friend maintained the company of the other men, avoiding Jonis more each day.

Their lost friendship hurt Jonis the most. Lt. Gillway turned bitter about having to stay in Danslik. Besides losing his happy-go-lucky personality, his friend had also lost his predilection for gambling among the dodgy yet flamboyant fops they had come to enjoy in the towns, remaining within the safe yet wealthiest groups at the parties. The lieutenant avoided Jonis altogether unless he had to be with him in public for face sake. To Jonis’s logical mind, Lt. Gillway’s behavior entirely defeated the purpose of keeping him in town, especially since the whole purpose had been for Lt. Gillway to watch him. In fact, Jonis begged the Patriarch to let Lt. Gillway go.

The Patriarch refused.

“You and that man are a team,” the Patriarch said plainly. “I cannot split up a team. You two started this together. You must finish it together. I feel very strongly about this.”

Jonis decided that it was lost cause—at least for that week.

He attended the Patriarch’s court almost every day in the morning, whether the Patriarch wanted him around or not. Jonis had no work in the day, kept to Night Stalker duty nearly all night. So, at times when the Patriarch did not expect him, Jonis took it upon himself to re-present his petition for having a magister sent to each town and village in the nation. Each time, the Patriarch would brush it aside, ignoring the issue. Not until after the first month passed did Jonis at last get a solid response—and he did not like it.

“Lieutenant Jonis Macoy!” the Patriarch shouted, his calm demeanor vanishing with a flush of red to his cheeks and forehead. “I cannot send out magisters to every town. Do you know what damage that would do to the business of the existing magisters? Magisters need business. You should not take a person’s job from them. Do you understand?”

Jonis went white. He hated that argument. Mr. Farren had used it. Many of his commanding officers had used it. He refused to listen now. Tired of substandard results, especially when he knew a more effective way to handle things, it just did not make sense to perpetuate things as they were.

“But, Your Grace—”

“My word is final! We allowed you to set up the demon hunting teams on a temporary basis to clear out infestations and plagues that the magisters could not handle,” the Patriarch ground through his teeth with tired impatience. “You have gotten rid of the last real threat in Brein Amon. After this year, they will be disbanded.”

“You can’t actually believe that!” Jonis exclaimed, tossing all courtly manners aside and stomping past the heralds and attendants to the front of the room. “The demon populations are rising! We found out about that bird infestation on a fluke. It has been festering for years. Who is to say that there aren’t more out there?”

“You will be silent!” the Patriarch bellowed.

Jonis clamped his mouth closed, glaring straight ahead. The Patriarch did not like it when people averted their eyes, no matter how upset they were.

“The Sky Children are all but gone, Cordril,” the Patriarch said in a very dangerous voice. “And your kind are nearly all extinct. The demons of the world are dying. Soon we will not need magisters at all, but scientists only.”

“With all due respect,” Jonis hissed back, his blue eyes glowing behind his sunglasses. “You are wrong. Demons are on the rise. I’ve seen it first hand.”

“You will not disrespect me!” The Patriarch jumped to his feet.

The others in the room pulled back, most ducking their heads, waiting for the strike of a fatal blow.

But Jonis remained where he was, clenching his teeth.

“Get out! Take off those ridiculous sunglasses and go do your work!” the Patriarch barked, pointing to the wide doors.

Lifting his eyebrows and raising his chin, Jonis promptly turned on the balls of his feet, then bowed and walked through the door—though he had not removed the glasses. Normally, he would have cowered at the thought of offending this supreme ruler. But something struck him as he heard the old excuse that he was taking someone’s job spouted out at him once more, a realization that consumed his thoughts and filled his body with trembling rage. The Patriarch did not care about the people of Brein Amon at all. All he cared about was money and power. And that was not the cause he wanted to serve.

It was not even sunset when Jonis stepped off the capital grounds. He trudged towards the luxuriant neighborhood where yet another party was being held that night. Partygoers were already at the salons getting their hair and makeup done. Some attended tailors for that additional stitch to their suits. Their carriages and cars lined the main roads of the shops, driving Jonis into the smaller paths for some privacy to his darkening mood.

Jonis wearily sighed, resting against a stone wall with a tired eye.

The air had little pieces of fluff floating from the trees. The reddening sunlight shone around them like glowing halos. Already he could see moths fluttering near the lamps that were beginning to light. Odors of evening dinners wafted with it. He glanced over into one yard, letting his thoughts drift like the seedlings on air, as his gaze fell on the dark-skinned island girl dressed in rags pulling out weeds