Chapter 5
​The Line You Cross

It was cold.

It was a bitter night. The baronies around Callgar could be warm in their spring days. In the spring, their fields flowered. The barons lit great bonfires to celebrate the time of plenty. All could find a hearth in late spring.

Spring had not come on fast enough. The land was still held in the grip of winter. Those without a castle or a manse were forced to huddle in their abodes, cradling around what meager fires they could build. Worse still were those without hearth and home. They huddled in ditches, underneath fallen trees, anywhere to get away from the frozen winds.

Two did not have that option. These two rode through the wind and snow. Their horses were covered in cloth and wool, trying to keep the cold from seeping into their mount’s bones. They had too far to go before night fell.

One of the Riders was well known, even as far north as Callgar. The grizzled man was as hard as the weather he rode through. His coat hung about him, and his flopped hat threatened to tear off in the wind.

Then there was his face. A gray beard, flecked with frost. Those eyes, even squinting could pierce through the whole north. It was Harsk, the legendary Rider. A savior of sorts, whether he wanted the title or not. And he had come to the Callgar baronies.

Everyone knew Harsk and his Ride. He specialized in ridding the land of demons. Anything that crawled out of the Pit thought long and hard about jumping back in when he rode through. Succubus, rage demons, even full blown princes of the Pit, it didn’t matter. Harsk cut all down. Save one.

The second Rider curled into her cloak as best she could. Most of her life she had spent further south. She was used to the hard heat down on the Western plains, the sweat and swelter that came with the warmer climes. This was different than beastly heat. It cut at her, despite the heavy clothes she wrapped about her.

If it were up to Kait they would have turned in for the night. Any night. Harsk hadn’t let them stop at an inn, or try and beg some bedding in a loft or barn once. She figured it was because of her. If she removed the hood, most polite folks would have simply slammed the door in her face. The less polite would go for a sword.

Under the hood was a seventeen-year-old girl. Her white hair hung down in a braid, curled around her smooth blue skin. Her black eyes looked out, looking for any sort of refuge. Her horns brushed up against the cloak. Yes, Kait Demonborn was not as welcome as Harsk would have been.

It wasn’t fair. Kait had been Riding with Harsk for five years. She had killed several demons herself, and considered herself an equal of most of the Riders, save maybe one or two. And people knew that. But it had to be a trick. She was too young, the only female in the Ride, and worse still part-demon. No one would hold their door open for them tonight.

Harsk kept pushing his horse forward, ignoring the wind. Wind didn’t stop demons from terrorizing. The cold wouldn’t stop them from tearing apart another baron’s son. They needed to get closer. Kait and Harsk had been tracking this demon through all the Callgar ranges, and it had to be close by. He could feel it.

Kait rubbed her horse on the mane. This horse was shorter than Harsk’s mount. It pushed through the snow on stubby legs. Its mottled yellow hair clung to its flesh in the cold. Clari-Ann the gob-horse snorted as another patch of snow fell on her nose. She was bred in goblin tunnels, built to run through underground caves colder than this. But this damned snow was going to drive her insane.

“Night’s coming on quick,” Kait said. Harsk nodded, and kept moving.

Kait spurred Clari-Ann on. “Your horse is faltering, Harsk.”

He stopped, and considered. He had lost a few horses in his Rides. Quite a few. But that had always been in battle, when blood flowed and decisions had to be made to save oneself or the horse. He had never been so callous as to ride a horse to death.

This one was a harder job than most. It was farther than his range, and not his usual type. Harsk preferred to go further south, keeping the more common folk safe. Let the demons have these spoilt barons while they run their little kingdoms.

But they were people. And after the fifth barony had been ravaged in six months, Harsk couldn’t ignore it. The Everwynns, absolutely torn apart. Barely anyone survived the latest attack.

No. He needed to find this demon. And they were close, he could feel it. Harsk dismounted, and started to rub his horse down.

“Warm them up, and get a little bit of food,” Harsk commanded. “We leave in an hour.”

Kait frowned. Night would be nipping at their heels, if not full upon them in an hour. She started to rub Clari-Ann down, a little harder than normal. Harsk would leave without her.

This should’ve been the entire Ride. A dozen men, Harsk and Kait, riding down on this demon. Scour the countryside, find the resting spot and burn the damned thing apart. It would be so easy.

But Harsk had sent Carson to the West Coast. Something about sea demons plaguing the fishermen near the Los Waste. Splitting up the party, and sending just two in this cold. If it wasn’t Harsk she would have argued.

They were back on their horses and riding again in an hour. Clari-Ann glanced at the other house. He huffed his way through, but kept going. Night fell, and Harsk lit a torch. They kept going.

Kait knew what this was. A test. Harsk was always setting up little tests for her. Having her fight the other Riders when she was eight. Having to wrangle Clari-Ann and go on a week-long journey alone at nine. At eleven she had to kill a demon alone just to prove she could Ride. This was another test, making sure she was still committed.

She was committed. This demon was as good as dead.

Harsk stopped at the base of a hill. He looked up the slope through the trees, and doused his torch. Kait rode up next to him and followed his gaze.

Nestled in the side of the hill was a small cabin. A simple two-room building, lit by a warm fire visible through a window. Simple, happy, content.

And completely deserted in this weather. Harsk had seen a fair share of men and women huddled together in the cold. None had come close to the cabin, preferring the biting wind to risking this place. Something was here that drove them all away.

He started up. Kait grabbed his arm, and looked at the horses. They would give away everything in this snow, or freeze if left alone. The two spent another hour finding a spot to tether the horses and set up a small fire to keep them warm. If it got out of control, Clari-Ann would know what to do.

With all the waiting around, Harsk had to fight his way through the snow in the dark. The light was a beacon now, drawing him in. He was close, he could feel it.

Notes filled the air. Kait frowned, trying to pick it apart from the wind. There it was again, music. Whoever it was up there was playing music. Not the best she had heard, but not bad.

Harsk let them in. No knocking, but no sneaking about either in this snow. Since it was here, they needed to deal with it now.

This demon was sitting by the fire. He was dressed in a fine silk doublet, green trousers and slippers. His hair was coifed about him, something he must have done himself in this weather. Horns poked out the top of his head, splitting the hair in a manner that was fashionable. His dark skin shone in the firelight.

The fiend’s eyes were closed, his hands holding the flute. A beautiful piece, crafted of silver and well-polished. The demon’s fingers played across the keys, trying to go through the medley. His fingerings slipped once or twice, but not enough to ruin the piece.

Kait listened in, focused on the song. It was a dirge, soft and sad. The long phrases rose and fell as the demon played it. She tried to capture every note. She tried to understand.

Harsk focused on the room. The demon was seated in an old wooden chair, pushed near the fire. There was also a couch and a stool, with a simple carpet on the wooden floor. Across from the fireplace was a simple bed, slid up against the back wall. On the bed and stool were several books. Not summoning spells or grimoires, but romances, classics. Thumbed through and open for easy use.

On the other side of the cabin was his kitchen. Counter space with cupboards above and below. A copper pot sat in the stone oven, ready to melt snow down into water. It was a well-furnished kitchen, with enough provisions for a few days.

No one else. This had to be him.

The demon finished the song, and set the flute down on the stool. He sighed, and turned to the fire.

“Whoever it is, please come in,” He said. “The fire is warm, and I rarely get visitors.”

Harsk drew his sword and led the way in. “No, no I doubt you do,” He muttered. “Folks don’t take kindly to being killed and left on the front porch.”

“I’d never leave kills on my front porch,” The demon said. “That scent would be unbearable, and I’d never get rid of the stains.”

“So you’re him?” Kait asked. She drew her own dagger. Pointed it straight at the beast. “The fiend that’s been killing all the barons?”

“Two? And a woman at that?” The demon raised his hands above his head. “If I could turn around?”

“Go ahead,” Harsk said.

The demon faced the two of them. His eyes were as red as his doublet. He looked resigned, not evil.

He gazed at the two for a moment, and laughed. “Is that the legendary Harsk I see before me? The Rider, coming to kill me?”

He looked at Kait. “And then you must be…?”

Kait lifted her hood off, showing her face. The demon smiled, and bowed. “Kait Demonborn. I am in the presence of two amazing personages. I am honored.”

He pointed to the counter. “If you were to open the cupboard, you’d find a magnificent scotch that has been sitting for who knows how long. Just waiting for an occasion to drink.”

“I think we shall pass.” Harsk fell into his fighting stance.

The demon sighed, and reclined in his chair. “Can I make it a last request? I know the barons want me dead, but surely you could wait a few minutes. You will not return to the surviving Everwynn’s for a few days at least. And in this cold…how did you get here?”

“Horses,” Kait said. The demon shook his head. “Well, whatever you decide, that door can be expanded. Be kind to the poor beasts and let them in tonight. Whatever you decide.”

“You hold a lot more compassion for horses than you do barons.” Kait muttered.

“Yes, indeed.” The demon’s eyes flashed. “Especially those barons.”

“Too mortal?” Kait asked. “Too good?”

“Too good?” the demon stood up, his face a fury. “Too good? Are you trying to be funny? Is this a last stab they sent you to give me? A slap in the face? Well, I won’t have it, you hear? I’d see them all dead first!”

“You’d have to get through us first!” Kait shouted.

“And how dare you defend them!” The demon shouted back. “Those bastards, those incomparable cretins, I wish I had not spent a day resting when I could have been out killing them!”

“Don’t try to justify yourself,” Kait said. Why was she trying to argue with him? He was a demon; she should be attacking him. Why not?

“You killed them because you’re a demon. And they held goodness within them.”

The demon started to open his mouth. And stopped. He stared at her, and then Harsk. He softened, and leaned backwards.

“You don’t know?” The demon asked. “You don’t know why I killed them?”

“You’re a demon.” Harsk said.

“Yes. No! Yes, but that’s not all.” The demon clutched his head. “All the past, all the pain, it was fading. Now it is rising up again. Stop it, I need to tell the truth!”

The demon screamed. A shriek that sent Harsk and Kait reeling. It shattered against the trees, shaking boughs loose and crashing them to the ground. The demon rolled on the ground, scratching at his face.

“I am not Xaxlop!” He screamed. “My name is Eustyn. Eustyn!”

Kait rushed over to Eustyn. On instinct, she dropped to the floor. She cradled his head in her hands. Anything, do anything just to stop that infernal screaming.

He came to a rest. Suddenly, Eustyn shoved her away, and dove for the bed. Kait fell back. Harsk slashed at the fiend. Eustyn danced away, jumping onto the bed.

Kait steadied herself, and readied her knife to throw. She spun to face the demon. Eustyn held a book to his chest, cradling it like a child.

“Eustyn,” He breathed. “I am Eustyn.”

Kait stared. The book was The Tales of Eustyn the Bard. Classics, tales of daring adventures, true love, sword fights, honor. Nettie had read a few to her. Why was Eustyn clinging to the book like a lover?

Harsk readjusted his stance, and faced Eustyn. “Demon.”

“My name, is Eustyn.” The demon looked at them both. He remained curled around the book, scared. “If you would have my life, have all of it. Understand.

“I am a demon. And I am a killer, and far worse. I have torn apart families, sent nations warring, and did my best to pervert this world to evil. And I reveled in it. Xaxlop was a name to be feared. A name that commanded respect.

“And then, something changed.” Eustyn laughed. “I can’t tell you what it was. It wasn’t revelation. Not someone showing me kindness. After so long on this earth, I calmed. Killing was losing its flavor. I looked elsewhere.”

He clutched the book even tighter. “Here. I looked in here.

“These stories, the stories of Eustyn, spoke of something different. Of emotions that I could not begin to imagine. A need for honor, for true love. The idea of goodness was not something to sneer at. It could be an aspiration.

“I tried it. I changed my name, forsook the Pit, and travelled North. I tried to be good. Read anything I could get my hands on. Built this cabin, and waited for goodness to come.

“It did not come. What did come was the needs of the Pit.”

Eustyn shuddered. “There is in me a need to kill. It festers, a plague that cannot be torn from my body, no matter how I try. Denying it would lay me in bed for days, racked in pain and chills. I thought I would die.

“Then I saw a baron.”

He sat up. “There are barons. And then there was he who held sway here. Baron Sommesly. A disgusting pig of a man. He was looking in for another girl to take to his lair. Or a boy, his tastes were amenable to both. Looking into his soul I could see he had partaken in every perversion imaginable. Even I had not witnessed several.”

Eustyn smiled. “I tore him apart with my bare hands.

“I spoke from experience earlier. It is impossible to get bloodstains out of the wood. I had to rip up the front porch and replace it. Something that was done with relish and freedom. I felt better, better than I had in years. I had the one thing that had been missing from my life. Purpose.”

He looked at Kait. Eustyn had calmed, and nodded. “Every kill they have attributed to me, I have done. I tore them apart. Every craven little speck of mortality that dared to hide behind a title, was not safe from me. I could look into their soul and witness their deepest darkness. And if they were evil, they died.

“Do you know what the Everwynn’s did? Why I slaughtered half a family? None knew what the baron and his family partook in. They never will. The babes are buried in the walls and beneath the foundation stones. Those maidens were burned in the ovens, as was the cook that came down to cook dinner too early. All done because they had power, and their victims didn’t.

“Well, I had power. And I felt a need to use it. I am a demon, what was their excuse?”

He closed his eyes and laughed. He laughed as Harsk cut off his head. Harsk felled Eustyn, and kept chopping at his body. Kait screamed. The head rolled off the bed towards her feet. His red eyes glassed over, looking straight at her.

Harsk severed the torso in two. When he could not swing the sword any longer, he collapsed. He spat at the demon’s corpse, and nodded to Kait.

“Get some of those logs. We’ve got work to do.”

Kait looked at the head. And then to the body. She picked through the remains for The Tales of Eustyn. She pulled the book out of the blood, and placed it on the counter.

“Kait,” Harsk said. “He’s still dangerous.”

“To bastards,” Kait replied. “To monsters and far worse.”

“He lied.”

“Bullshit!” Kait said. “If he was like the others, he’d have had me by the throat when I tried to help him.”

“And what were you thinking?” Harsk roared. “Leaving yourself defenseless like that? You could have been killed.”

“I don’t know!” Kait said. “I don’t know about any of this.”

She held her sides, and looked at Harsk. “But I think you know he was telling the truth.”

Harsk didn’t say anything. Kait nodded.

“Eustyn was making the world a better place. The only way he knew.”

“He’s a demon,” Harsk said.

“A demon who was learning. Who was trying to understand what it was to be alive, to be good.”

“He was a demon.” Harsk said. “And the only way they’re good is when they’re dead.”

“Like me?”

They glared at each other. The fire crackled and started to die down.

Harsk hefted his sword. He took a rag out and started to clean it. “You’re not coming south, are you?”

Kait shook her head. Harsk sighed, and turned towards the door.

“I’ll unhook Clari-Ann and send her on your way. That body is too mutilated for that demon. He’ll be in agony for eternity if you don’t burn him.”

Kait stared ahead. Harsk made it to the door before she spoke.

“Why didn’t you just kill me when I was born?”

Harsk left without a word.

She would not see the tears on his face. If she did she would have blamed it on the wind.