Chapter 68. Hunting Demon

hou cracked open an eye, stirring from sleep to the sounds of surreptitious voices.  The last thing he remembered was being carried by Khunzar as their small band traversed the rugged landscape.  They had run afoul of Kournan scouts and had been forced to press on long after the sturdiest of them was begging for respite.  For hours they had stumbled through the inky blackness of a deep defile, feeling their way past stone and brush, not daring to make a fire for fear of drawing their pursuers. 

Privation had been unkind to Zhou’s body, and though Yajebe, the monk, had mended his wounds, only time and rest would restore him fully.  He remained still amid the blankets and packs where he had been left to recover, aware of the small sounds of others sleeping nearby.  He lifted his head and gazed around him, seeing Azuri’s hooded silhouette propped up against the rock wall fast asleep.

“We can go to my village, it is a few leagues northeast of this canyon,” came Yajebe’s gentle voice, “They’ll shelter us and the Kournans would never harm an innocent farming village.”

“These are not the Kournans of your childhood,” Ishalha said brusquely, her voice hushed to avoid disturbing those who slept, “If we go there, we risk the lives of your kin.”

Zhou picked out three figures gathered at the opening of their rocky shelter.  Khunzar’s towering bulk stirred as he spat out the cloves he had been chewing.

“Why not fight them?” the warrior rumbled quietly, “If the scouts never return, the Kournans will most likely assume desertion.  The war is not popular at home.”

“Normally I would turn to fight.”

“Normally,” Khunzar snorted, “You relish your secrets overmuch.  Speak of the reason for our cowardly retreat.  Your riddles are wearisome.”

“Before we left Kamadan, I spoke to one of my informants.  The Kournans consort with demons,” Ishalha murmured, “This is not to be discussed among the others.  Those scouts had one with them.”

“I saw no such thing,” Khunzar replied.

“Doubt my word at your peril,” Ishalha said, “I know what I saw.”

“By the Five,” Yajebe whispered, “How do we know if we have lost their pursuit?”

“We don’t,” Ishalha said, “and it might be the demon can find us regardless.  Aheem is a greedy criminal, but I believe there was some truth to his claim that the Kournans wanted the demon hunter.”

“Is the Canthan a demon hunter?” Khunzar asked.

“Yes, I see the light of the gods upon him and I fear it is what draws pursuit.  Wake the others, now.  Give them food and water enough to keep them moving until dawn.”

“So cruel,” Yajebe sighed, “Bei needs rest badly.  He is in constant pain.”

“I’ll carry him,” Khunzar said, “Stop fretting like an old fish wife and help me get them up and moving.”

“Fish wife,” Yajebe tutted, “Is that any way to speak to the holy man who keeps you standing in the heat of battle?”

Khunzar chuckled and Zhou lowered his head at their approach, feigning sleep.

“Fish husband, then, for all your carping.”

Yajebe groaned and chuckled with the easy mirth of long friendship.  Zhou tried to sit up when the monk knelt beside him but Yajebe pressed on his shoulder and motioned him down.

“Stay here and relax. I’ll bring you food and water and something to dull the pain.  Let me examine your jaw and ribs.”

He tried not to cry out in pain when the monk’s well-trained hands went instantly to the painful swelling on the left side of his face.

“Easy, my friend, there’s bone fragments loose in there and I saw you were having difficulty eating earlier today.  I could just murder those Corsair,” Yajebe grumbled with a voice that contradicted his ability to do so, “When we get to Vabbi, we’ll have you mended up in no time.”

“I can walk a little,” Zhou protested, “I don’t want to slow us down.”

“I snatched you from the jaws of death barely two days ago and I don’t plan to do so again any time soon.  No, you’ll let Khunzar bear you.”

Zhou watched miserably as the small monk’s shadowy figure retrieved a stone mortar and pestle from his kit and he began grinding up a reeking herb.  It was true he was in pain, but it was not as if pain was anything new for him.  He had ways of dealing with it that did not involve becoming helpless.  It hardly seemed fair that his protectors might die to a demon that was seeking him.

“You should abandon me if a demon comes,” Zhou told the monk.

“Eavesdropping, were we?” Yajebe chuckled, “I don’t know what people are like in Cantha, but around here, we do not abandon the sick and wounded to die alone.  Now drink this and stop fretting.  You may well be incapacitated for the nonce, but the rest of us are equal to a fight.”

“If that is so, why does Ishalha insist that we flee?” Zhou asked, “This stumbling along in the dark is only making all of us weaker.”

Yajebe patted Zhou’s shoulder, implying that he would rather not speak of it.  He helped Zhou sit up so that he could drink the bitter draught and chase it down with a round of flat bread wrapped around a lump of cold beans.  Chewing it was a nightmare but the monk insisted, pointing out that Zhou could ill afford to continue without food.  Moistening the bread made no difference and he quietly nibbled what he could stand of the beans and tossed the horrible bread into the shadows while Yajebe was preoccupied with helping the others.  Once the food was being put away Yajebe returned to his side and urged him to stand amid the packs to await Khunzar as if he were a drowsy item of baggage.

“We’ll get to Vabbi soon,” the monk reassured him out of earshot of the others, “then we can slow our pace.  The Kournans will not follow us there no matter what is helping them.”

He hoped Yajebe was right because the alternative did not bear thinking.  Hopefully Vabbi was a town of sufficient size to have fortifications and men at arms.