battle. Call it couzi. Say it gives a warrior courage.’ He held a cup to her. ‘I’ve found poteen to have a similar effect.’
‘Thought you said the
Sharum
embrace their fear,’ Renna said, sitting down next to him with the jug in between.
‘Most do, and there ent no better way,’ Arlen said. ‘But embracing leaves a body cold. Don’t want to be cold when I’m in a place like Sweetwell. Want to be mad as the Core itself.’
Renna nodded. That was something she could understand. She ignored the tiny cups, sticking her finger through the jug handle. She braced the container on her arm and brought it to her lips with practised smoothness, taking a long pull.
The poteen was as strong as Arlen warned, and she coughed a bit, but it was sweeter than her father’s brew, and the ball of fire that struck her belly soon calmed and spread warmth throughout her limbs.
Arlen dropped the cups, taking the jug and pulling as she had. They passed it back and forth until the light failed completely and the telltale mists began to rise, heralding the corelings. The mists began to coalesce into field demons, sleek and low to the ground, prowling on all fours like lions, faster than anything alive. A few wood demons appeared as well, the larger demons taking longer to form.
Renna got to her feet, swaying unsteadily for a moment before she regained her equilibrium. She moved towards a coalescing wood demon, carrying the much-lightened jug loosely with one finger.
She glared at the demon as she waited for it to materialize, thinking of the night she had spent locked in her farm’s outhouse, screaming as demons rattled at the door. She thought of the empty buildings, and the poisoned well behind her.
She took one last pull of poteen and stoppered the jug. With her free hand, she reached into the pouch at her waist.
At last the demon solidified, opening its mouth to roar at her. The orifice was great enough to swallow her entire head, with row upon row of pointed teeth.
Before it could let out a sound, Renna flicked her hand at it, tossing an acorn into the gaping maw. The heat ward she had painted on the acorn activated when it made contact with the demon’s tongue, exploding the nut with a flash and bang.
At that very moment, Renna spat poteen into the demon’s face.
She stepped out of the way as its head exploded in flames. The demon fell to the ground, thrashing as its barklike armour burned.
There was a laugh, and Renna turned to see Arlen clapping his hands at her. ‘Nice work, but I’ll do you one better.’
Renna smirked, and crossed her arms, stepping over to the safety of a wardpost. ‘Like to see you try, Arlen Bales.’
Arlen bowed. A field demon turned solid a few feet away from him, bigger than a nightwolf. It growled and tamped down, ready to pounce.
Arlen crossed his arms the same as Renna, standing his ground. His hood was down – he almost never put it up any more – but he still wore the rest of his day robes, covering the powerful wards tattooed all over his body. Field demons were fast as the wind, and without the protection of his wards, it seemed the demon would knock him down and savage him. Renna’s hand dropped to her knife, and she gripped it tightly.
But the field demon passed through Arlen as if he had been made of smoke. His body swirled where the creature passed through it, returning after a moment to sharp clarity.
Arlen took a brief bow as the demon recovered. ‘Nothing can touch me in the night now, Ren. Not if I see it coming.’
The field demon hit the ground and turned instantly, leaping back at him. Renna expected it to pass through him again, but this time Arlen flowed around the attack faster than her eye could see, wrapping an arm around the coreling’s neck and sharply arresting its momentum. He quickstepped around the demon’s back to avoid the flailing claws, maintaining the headlock with one arm. He reached his free hand around to draw a heat ward on the demon’s
‘Thought you said the
Sharum
embrace their fear,’ Renna said, sitting down next to him with the jug in between.
‘Most do, and there ent no better way,’ Arlen said. ‘But embracing leaves a body cold. Don’t want to be cold when I’m in a place like Sweetwell. Want to be mad as the Core itself.’
Renna nodded. That was something she could understand. She ignored the tiny cups, sticking her finger through the jug handle. She braced the container on her arm and brought it to her lips with practised smoothness, taking a long pull.
The poteen was as strong as Arlen warned, and she coughed a bit, but it was sweeter than her father’s brew, and the ball of fire that struck her belly soon calmed and spread warmth throughout her limbs.
Arlen dropped the cups, taking the jug and pulling as she had. They passed it back and forth until the light failed completely and the telltale mists began to rise, heralding the corelings. The mists began to coalesce into field demons, sleek and low to the ground, prowling on all fours like lions, faster than anything alive. A few wood demons appeared as well, the larger demons taking longer to form.
Renna got to her feet, swaying unsteadily for a moment before she regained her equilibrium. She moved towards a coalescing wood demon, carrying the much-lightened jug loosely with one finger.
She glared at the demon as she waited for it to materialize, thinking of the night she had spent locked in her farm’s outhouse, screaming as demons rattled at the door. She thought of the empty buildings, and the poisoned well behind her.
She took one last pull of poteen and stoppered the jug. With her free hand, she reached into the pouch at her waist.
At last the demon solidified, opening its mouth to roar at her. The orifice was great enough to swallow her entire head, with row upon row of pointed teeth.
Before it could let out a sound, Renna flicked her hand at it, tossing an acorn into the gaping maw. The heat ward she had painted on the acorn activated when it made contact with the demon’s tongue, exploding the nut with a flash and bang.
At that very moment, Renna spat poteen into the demon’s face.
She stepped out of the way as its head exploded in flames. The demon fell to the ground, thrashing as its barklike armour burned.
There was a laugh, and Renna turned to see Arlen clapping his hands at her. ‘Nice work, but I’ll do you one better.’
Renna smirked, and crossed her arms, stepping over to the safety of a wardpost. ‘Like to see you try, Arlen Bales.’
Arlen bowed. A field demon turned solid a few feet away from him, bigger than a nightwolf. It growled and tamped down, ready to pounce.
Arlen crossed his arms the same as Renna, standing his ground. His hood was down – he almost never put it up any more – but he still wore the rest of his day robes, covering the powerful wards tattooed all over his body. Field demons were fast as the wind, and without the protection of his wards, it seemed the demon would knock him down and savage him. Renna’s hand dropped to her knife, and she gripped it tightly.
But the field demon passed through Arlen as if he had been made of smoke. His body swirled where the creature passed through it, returning after a moment to sharp clarity.
Arlen took a brief bow as the demon recovered. ‘Nothing can touch me in the night now, Ren. Not if I see it coming.’
The field demon hit the ground and turned instantly, leaping back at him. Renna expected it to pass through him again, but this time Arlen flowed around the attack faster than her eye could see, wrapping an arm around the coreling’s neck and sharply arresting its momentum. He quickstepped around the demon’s back to avoid the flailing claws, maintaining the headlock with one arm. He reached his free hand around to draw a heat ward on the demon’s
Similar Books
