Bec

“Why?” I whisper, continuing to draw strength from the stars.

“You won’t be able to contain so much power. Your body will unravel. You’ll die.”

“I can hold it together,” I sigh. “With this much magic I can do anything.”

“No,” he says firmly. “It will destroy you.”

I don’t want to believe him. I don’t want to stop. But I can see the truth in his expression. He’s not a jealous teacher intent on holding me back—he’s a worried ally trying to save me. Reluctantly I pull back and cut off the seductive flow of power from the stars. The world dims around me. I become human again.

Drust’s hands close on my shoulders and he squeezes warmly. “You did well,” he says.

“I did it,” I reply, hardly able to believe it now the moment has passed. “I made the magic work. Your magic.”

“Yes.” He doesn’t let go. He looks troubled. “I’ve never seen someone make the leap from novice to adept so swiftly. The demon said you stole magic from him. The power that involved…”

“I didn’t mean to steal,” I say quietly. “Is it a bad thing?”

Drust shakes his head and smiles thinly. “No. Just unexpected.” He releases me. “Now, let’s get everybody settled down and restore the masking spells. There may be other demons nearby who might not be so willing to retreat as Lord Loss.”

“Do you know what he was?” I ask. “Why he could speak? What he meant about death and sorrow coming tomorrow?”

“We will talk about him shortly,” Drust says. “First the spells. You can help me cast them this time. Listen carefully, then copy what I do.” And he shows me. And I try it. And it works. Easy.

“Lord Loss is one of the more powerful Demonata,” Drust says. We’re all lying close together. It’s late in the night but nobody can sleep, not after what we’ve so recently witnessed. “He’s a demon master.”

“You said they couldn’t come through yet,” Fiachna notes.

Drust nods thoughtfully. “When the first demon master forces its way through the tunnel, it will widen. There will be a flood of demons more powerful than those who roam the land now, eager to get in on the killing while there are humans left to kill. They’ll be savage, unformed, monstrous. We’ll know when they are here—the screams of the dying will fill the air.

“I don’t think Lord Loss came through the tunnel, or that he crossed any time recently. He could speak our language. Even the powerful demon masters cannot do that without much practice. I believe he has been here for many years, walking among us.”

“How?” Orna gasps. “The demons only started coming last year.”

“No,” Drust says. “Some came before that. There are ways for humans to summon them. They can never stay for long. They usually kill recklessly, then slip back to their own foul realm. But this one seems at home here…” He falls silent, then says, “Much of our knowledge of the Demonata comes from the Old Creatures. They walked the land once. This was their world. They instructed the early druids, told them about demons, taught them how to fight. But they did not teach us all that they knew. Perhaps they couldn’t, since they were gods and we were only humans.

“As far as I was aware, demons could not roam this world freely unless a tunnel was open. That is what the Old Creatures taught us, and we have seen evidence of that in the many centuries since they withdrew from our company. But I see now that there are exceptions to that rule. Lord Loss must be one of them.”

“Are you sure he was a demon?” Goll asks. “He looked more like a Fomorii to me, judging by the old legends.”

“He was definitely a Demonata,” Drust says. “But he is different to most. The majority revel in bloodshed. The masters are like the weaker demons which you’ve seen—crude and wild, interested only in slaughter. Lord Loss appears to be more cultured. Cruel rather than brute. He could have killed us but he didn’t. Instead he spoke of sport and future suffering. He—”

“The stones!” I blurt out. I’d been thinking about him trailing us by day, moving among us at night, when an image clicked into place. “I saw him at the ring!” When the others look blank, I tell them about the demon I saw when we were trapped within the circle of magical stones. “There was one who didn’t pay attention to Bran when he was running around and dancing. He was by himself, floating in the air, watching the rest of us. It was Lord Loss. He’s been following us since then.”

“But why?” Orna asks.

“Sport,” Drust replies, face dark with worry. “I think this demon is as vicious as any of the others, but he feasts on the agony of humans instead of their blood. Sorrow excites him. He must have sensed the promise of pain when he saw you and has been following ever since, waiting for the misery to start.”

“Then it will be a long wait!” Goll huffs. “I won’t be played by a demon. Now that we know he’s here, we can fight him.”

“Maybe,” Drust says gloomily but his eyes are dark and I can see the embers of fear in them.

CHILDREN OF THE DARK

We march at the same pace as before, but anxiously now, aware of the demon’s warning that death would strike today. We’re tense, prone to snap at the slightest irritation. When Connla passes a simple insult about Goll’s blind eye late in the morning, Goll responds by criticising Connla for falling asleep while on watch. The pair almost come to blows and have to be separated by the rest of us.

Ronan and Lorcan are the calmest. The brothers have little fear of death. This is just part of the big adventure for them. I think they’re half-hoping we are attacked, so they can kill more demons.

My lessons continue throughout the day. I was afraid the magic would desert me when the sun rose, that I wouldn’t be able to draw upon the power of the stars. But Drust teaches me to ignore the state of the sky and draw from it regardless of whether it’s day or night.

“The stars hide but are always there,” he says. “We’re weaker in the day but not as weak as demons. Most of them can’t draw from the stars at all while the sun shines, but we can.”

Since I made the breakthrough, I’ve come on like a child who’s taken her first step and is now toddling everywhere at high speed. I find it easy to move objects—stones, branches, even Bran. I make him rise while we’re resting, move him a few strides across in the air and set him down without him even noticing. That tires me but it doesn’t exhaust me and I recover quickly.

Drust says I’m one of the strongest at doing this that he’s ever seen. I ask if there’s a limit to what I can lift and move. He says there are always limits but he has no idea what mine might be. I suggest trying to uproot a tree but he says it’s too soon for so ambitious a test.

I’m not as accomplished in other areas. I learn how to create fire and hold it in my hands, either as a torch or to use as a weapon. But my flames are pitiful flickerings, nothing like Drust’s solid columns, and they singe my fingers.

I develop protective spells, like the one we use to mask ourselves at night. But these are more complicated, designed to shield me from physical assault. If they work correctly, a demon won’t be able to harm me with its claws or teeth, only with magic.

There are spells to protect me from magic too, but they’re even harder to learn. I make a small amount of headway with both sets of spells. Drust is pleased with my progress, but it’s tough work and leaves me feeling drained and grumpy.

“What about spells of attack?” I ask in the afternoon, thinking of the night ahead, worrying about the dangers we’ll face.

“Survival is our only concern right now,” Drust says, then looks around. We’re not close to any of the others, except Bran, who walks behind me like a faithful hound. Drust lowers his voice. “You must think only of your own well being if we’re attacked. Don’t put yourself in danger, even to save another. I need you, Bec. Your people need you too. Don’t waste your life trying to save someone who isn’t important.”

“You don’t want me to fight?” I ask archly. “You want me to stand by and let my friends die?”