THE DEMON AND THE LAKE

Firelight flickered over Siraina's chain-mail and flashed from her eyes as she hurled a small worn book at the campfire. It landed in a shower of sparks, inches from the flames. “Nothing!” she cried. “Not one spell that could counter what that cursed Gor is doing!”

The young warrior-queen turned back to Merick, her first-in-command, as he finished tending their travel-weary horses. Behind him, through the trees, flickered the campfires of her small company of guardsmen. “I have studied that book all the way from the tower at Turrinshold and found nothing. It was my last hope.”

Merick gave his horse a final pat and joined Siraina by the fire. “We still have the ceremonial ritual at the lake, my lady. Tomorrow, the Goddess will surely come . . . .”

“The Goddess should have come to me long before now,” snapped Siraina. This time, her words caused Merick to frown. Siraina met his disapproving look with defiance. “She has done nothing to help since Mother died, and you're as well aware of that as I am. I'm running out of alternatives.”

“She will come to you at the lake tomorrow. She must.”

“I must assume she will not. Gor is forcing a confrontation, and I need a plan. I need to find something that I can do, not wait and hope for supernatural help that may never come.”

Siraina turned to stare angrily out into the darkening wood. Her mother had died suddenly in an accidental fall, never having passed on to her daughter the secret of full oneness with the land that was required of her rule. Now, something terrible was happening. Why had the Goddess abandoned her in her time of grief, and now deserted her people in this time of horror? Even more, how could the Goddess have let her mother die?

She dared not reveal the hurt and fear she felt. Or the anger. Her mother had trusted the Goddess, and the Goddess had let her die. Siraina would not make the same mistake. She trusted only herself. She could, and would find the answer, a plan to defeat Gor, and she would do it alone. Tomorrow, at the lake, she intended to find out the truth about the Goddess. But tonight she must find a plan.

Siraina's throat ached from suppressed anger as she turned to retrieve the book from the edge of the fire. But then the ache spread, took fire in her heart, searing up her spine. She went rigid for a second, teeth gritted, fists clenched.

“Merick!” she shouted. “It's happening again! Very close!” The pain leveled to a raw burn and Siraina steeled her mind against it. She dropped to a defensive crouch, listening, scanning the forest that surrounded them. Her hand closed reflexively around the hilt of her sword. The campfire popped and spit loudly in the surrounding silence.

Then, a shrill inhuman cry sounded in the forest to her right. In one swift move, Siraina pivoted and drew her sword. She heard Merick draw sword behind her. Swords at ready, the two moved cautiously into the wood. Three of Siraina's guardsmen appeared behind them, but Siraina waved them back. Another piercing cry sounded, almost at Siraina's feet.

With the point of her sword, Siraina pushed back the dense undergrowth. “Oh, Mother of All, it's a rabbit,” she groaned. The pitiful creature's small body was contorted in agony, its limbs horribly twisted. With one swift, merciful stroke of her sword, Siraina put the helpless animal out of its misery.

The pain that had gripped Siraina disappeared. So it was always whenever Gor’s spells deformed any of the creatures of her land. And yet, she had only inherited a small portion of the oneness with the land that should have been hers when her mother had died. What should have been a joy, she knew only as a torture, and Gor was using it to wear her down.

Merick sheathed his sword and came to stand beside Siraina and the dead creature. Siraina's hands trembled as she pulled her sword from the body then plunged it into the earth to clean the blood from the blade. She glanced up at Merick, and voiced the grim question in both their minds. “I can't bear the thought that the next time it may be . . . “

“. . . human,” Merick finished for her. “I know.”

Back at the campfire after a guardsman had buried the body of the rabbit, Siraina's haunted eyes searched the forest edge. “I feel their pain, always only their pain. Why? My mother knew their love and joy.” Her voice shook with emotion controlled too long. “Gor has taken everything good from me. Even the trees are being twisted and tortured, and I must endure it.” Siraina turned her face, firelight glittered in her tears. “Next it will be my people.”

But suddenly, she turned on Merick, firm hands dashing the tears from her eyes, determination set on her face. “This must stop! I know what Gor wants. I think I have no choice now but to offer it to him.”

“No!” Alarmed, Merick reached out and gripped her arm. “My lady, you can't . . . .”

“I must save my people.”

Merick paused and forced himself to act calmly. He relaxed his grip on her arm and took her gently by the shoulders with both hands. “Raina, no.” He spoke quietly, but firmly. “You can't believe that if you surrender yourself to him, he will spare you . . . or any of the rest of us.”

Siraina laid her hand over one of Merick's and gripped it strongly. Their eyes met. For a moment she could imagine they were once again the little girl and older boy who had played at swords in the stables. She had idolized him then, he was her most trusted friend now. “I will not die, my friend. Truly, if I do not win this, mine will be a fate much worse than death. But this game must be played and the risk must be mine.” She paused and looked away. “I am the only one he wants.”

Merick gave her a gentle shake. “How can you know that? Or trust that it's not just a trick?”

She pulled away and gazed into the fire for a long moment. When she looked up, her eyes were full of the cold corruption of dark dreams. “You don't know why he wants me,” she said.

She paced to the other side of the fire, opposite Merick, so that when she turned toward him, her face glowed red against the dark forest behind her. Merick stared at her and said nothing. “Do you?” she demanded.

Merick stood stiffly, frowning, his arms crossed over his chest. “I assumed,” he said coldly, “that he wanted what any male would want from a beautiful woman.”

Siraina laughed, a chill note of fear in her voice. “No,” she said. “He is, after all, a demon, not a man. I'm afraid it's much worse than that.” Her eyes lost focus, seemed to stare right through Merick. Firelight danced wildly upon her face.

Merick took a step closer to the fire. “Tell me, Raina.”

“He wants my blood, Rick. He wants to feed on my blood. He comes to me in my dreams. His voice haunts my sleep, comes into my mind, whispering of power and desire.” Slowly, as if in a trance, she held her arms out straight in front of her, wrists turned upward, her eyes unfocused, seeing some inner vision.

“My lady...in your dreams, what do you see?”

“I see a dark terrible face with burning eyes. There is heat all around me. Then, I feel clawed hands holding my arms out like this. He speaks and I see dark bloody teeth. ‘There is great power in you, Siraina,’ he says. ‘The power of the ancient ones burns in your blood. It calls to me, fills me with hunger, with the desire to taste it. Come, my lady. Surrender to me and I will teach you to feel the oneness with the land you rule, teach you to use the power you possess, a power you cannot yet imagine. Come to me...let me taste it with you.’ Then I feel his teeth close down upon my wrists and . . . “

“Stop!” shouted Merick. He leaped the fire and grabbed Siraina by the shoulders. “I’ve heard enough. Raina, how could you have kept all of that to yourself.”

Siraina gave a small shrug. “I had to.” She looked up at him, her gaze rational, but full of pain. “Don't you see, Rick? He knows me. He has been in my mind. He knows that I will...that I must...give in before I will allow him to torture the land and the people in my care. Soon I will have no other choice.” Her eyes fell on the book that still lay nearly within reach of the flames. “Except, maybe....”

Siraina strode purposefully to the fire and picked up the book she had thrown. “I remember . . . there is something in here about an ancient Ritual of Challenge.” For several moments she scanned the pages, her brow furrowed in thought, then looked up at Merick with a feral grin. “Perhaps I have found an answer, a plan, after all. Maybe, Gor will help us himself. Who else is strong enough to defeat him, but himself.” She laughed. “What a great joke on him!”

Suddenly, a now familiar pain struck Siraina. At the same moment, an anguished cry, human this time, sounded from the soldiers' encampment on the other side of the trees. Siraina steeled herself to the pain, nodded as Merick questioned her with a swift glance, then they both ran toward the sound. Siraina tucked the small ancient book into her inner tunic as she ran.

In one of the clearings where her men had camped, there was confusion. Several men were gathered around one who lay on the ground. Siraina ran up, followed closely by Merick. “Jimi!” she exclaimed. “What is it. How are you hurt?”

Jimi shrank away from her. His left arm was wrapped in his cloak, his body bent around it as if to hide it. “No!” he cried. “My lady, no. It's too horrible.”

Siraina looked up at the men who surrounded Jimi, men she had commanded for only two months. “Show me,” she ordered softly.

The men gently, but firmly held down the struggling, weeping Jimi and stripped away the cloak. Siraina took a sharp breath, but did not flinch. One of the men turned away. Where Jimi's hand had been was now a twisted mass of flesh and bone. She nodded to the men and they covered it again.

Siraina turned to Merick who stood behind her. “Now it begins with my people. Now I have run out of time.” Her voice was grim and carried the weight of terrible responsibility.

“Raina, what about your plan,” said Merick. “I thought you had found something in that book. You must ask the blessing of the Goddess . . . .”

“If I must go to the Goddess, then it has to be now, tonight,” said Siraina. “Alone. Please stay here and do what you can to make him more comfortable.” She nodded at Jimi. “He is not the only one. All over my land I feel it happening to others, men in the village taverns, women in their cottages, children in their beds. My plan may or may not work, but I will face Gor at dawn tomorrow, regardless of the outcome.”

She strode away from him into the night, little more than a child, but a warrior and a queen in the making, their only hope in this nightmare. “Goddess keep you,” whispered Merick as she vanished into the trees toward the sacred Lake of Stars.

* * *

The Lake of Stars was surrounded on three sides by pale snow-capped mountains. The water that night was brilliant with the starry reflections from which it had its name. Starlight danced upon the water with a dazzling display, but Siraina stood upon the white sands of that holy shore feeling betrayed. The ceremony she must now perform required her to chant the ancient ritual words of prayer, but her heart was on fire with anger and distrust. For a moment, she laid her hand over the book tucked into her tunic. I have a plan, she reminded herself, and it will work, Goddess or no Goddess.

She took a deep breath and began the chant. Her voice, empowered and hiding nothing of her emotions, rang out across the waters and echoed back and forth between the mountains.

“Mother of All Names,

Mother of All Things,

Beloved Goddess,

Hear my prayer.”

She drew her sword, kissed the hilt and held it high. It glowed softly golden in the starlight, one clear jewel in the center of the hilt glittering with the captured light from the thousands of stars in the lake and sky. Then Siraina began the chant of calling.

“Mother of All Names,

Mother of All Things,

Come to my call, I pray.

The Voice of your children calls.”

Siraina's clear voice rang out with determined force, yet her singing was true. The melodious chant echoed over and over across the starlit waters until it seemed that many voices sang together in exquisite harmony.

A hush fell gradually as each echo died until Siraina stood in heavy silence. She sheathed her sword and shivered a little in the chill of that ponderous quiet. Then, far out, at the center of the lake, there was movement upon the water.

Reflections of starlight quivered, and spiraling slowly in intricate patterns, rose from the water into the air. Hovering just above the water, the reflected light formed shimmering mists that danced and swirled together into a denser cloud of light. This swirling cloud floated slowly across the surface of the lake until it gathered itself into one bright being before Siraina. As the Goddess appeared, her true form mostly hidden within the swirling mists of light, Siraina fell to one knee. She drew her sword and laid it before the holy feet of the Mother of All.

The Goddess bent and touched Siraina's cheek, raising her eyes to Her own. Siraina gasped. The eyes of the Goddess shone brighter than her starry raiment, but they were Siraina’s own mother's eyes, one violet and one blue.

Siraina twisted away in shock. Tears spilled down her face. “You are cruel to mock me in my grief,” she said, her voice bitter with pain. “My mother loved and worshipped you with all the devotion in her soul, but you have repaid her with death and deserted her people. You are no loving mother to the children of this land.” Siraina covered her face with her hands and wept as she had not allowed herself to do since her mother’s death.

The Mother of All bent again and stroked Siraina’s hair in a gesture of comfort. “It is good, daughter, that you allow yourself to cry out your bitterness and grief.” The voice of the Goddess was beautiful and gentle. “There is much you do not understand. I do not control the forces of life and death, they have their own purpose and reason. In time, you will see that your mother is with me still, as are all of my children still alive in the memory of the land that is one with me. I did not desert her or the people that are yours now to care for. My love has always been closer to you than the air you breathe, but your anger and rebellion have darkened your heart. It is this that has brought the demon to you and cut you off from oneness with the land.”

Siraina used her sleeve to wipe the tears from her face. Her throat ached. She kept her face averted from the Goddess. “My mother never had a chance to teach me the secret of how to be one with the land. And the demon wants the power of my ancient blood. None of that is my fault.”

“My child, your mother was a very good queen, beloved by me and her people, but she never could have attained full oneness with the land. You are destined to be much more than she was. You have inherited the blood of the ancient ones. In this, the demon has told you the truth, and he can gain much power from you if you do not defeat him.

“But he has also lied to you. The ancient power of oneness with the land runs in your veins, it is part of you, not something you have to be taught.

“You have the power inside you to become the first true Voice for the people of this land in many generations. By becoming one with all, you may truly speak for all. But this power is only released through complete surrender to me, to the land. As long as you refuse this, you will be cut off from it.”

The Goddess reached out and touched Siraina’s tear-stained face. “Your grief shows how great your love is, and I honor you for that. And I honor you for the courage with which you have endured Gor’s torments.”

Siraina felt the Goddess’s touch fade from her cheek. She looked up as the shining form receded a little distance from her to hover over the lake. A perfect reflection was mirrored by the still water beneath. The voice however was as close as if by her side. “I know your plan, my daughter, though you lock your heart away from me. You are clever, but cleverness alone will not save you. Beware this, Siraina, Queen of Turrinshold, Chosen Voice of my Children, no demon keeps a bargain. Make him swear to obey the rules of the challenge and the binding afterward. Make him swear upon his mother's name. It is the only oath a demon cannot forswear. But even then you cannot hold him to it unless you know his mother's name.”

The Goddess vanished into millions of tiny flying stars and disappeared back into the lake and the sky. Siraina heard one final whisper in her ear as one of the tiny stars brushed past her hair. “When you can accept surrender, the land itself will tell you what you need to know.”

* * *

When Siraina returned to the camp, she sent riders out through all her land to summon the afflicted to the Lake of Stars. She refused even Merick’s company and spoke to no one of what had happened at the lake.

The words of the Goddess played themselves over and over in her mind. She did not understand. She had no power she could use, no one else to turn to now. Her only hope was to go ahead with her plan.

First she paced, then sat by the campfire with her head upon her knees, as she pondered what she had been told. Finally, she fell into a restless sleep, rousing only a little when Merick’s strong but gentle hands guided her to the unrolled blankets of her camp bed. “Wake me at dawn,” she whispered, and heard his reply of “Yes, my lady,” before she slept again.

* * *

At dawn Siraina walked determinedly back to the Lake of Stars and again she stood upon that holy shore alone. She knelt at the water’s edge and washed her face. For luck and courage, she braided her hair with a length of violet ribbon her mother had given her. Then, she bowed down, her face almost touching the white sand. “Goddess, forgive my anger,” she prayed. “Please help me save my people. Help me understand.”

She stood and with trembling hands took the ancient book of magic out of her inner tunic. Carefully following the exact instructions in the book, with the point of her sword, she drew a circle around herself in the sand. She read, then spoke aloud the spell of protection to activate the circle. It was, she suspected, a spell that might be of little help against Gor’s powers and that the small amount of protection it could give, would work only if she won the challenge. Finally, she reread the Ritual of Challenge and put the book back inside her tunic. She was ready.

She took three deep calming breaths, then held her sword up high, the blade pointing straight down toward the earth. With a loud cry she plunged the blade deep into the sand. “Hear me, Gor, Demon of Hell,” she called. I summon you to the ancient Ritual of Challenge. Come stand before me and be tested.”

For several minutes there was no response, but then, a black slimy vapor oozed out from under a rock near where Siraina stood waiting. Slowly it crept across the sand and circled outside the edges of Siraina's circle of protection as a beast might prowl around a campfire. At last it drew itself up, took solid form, and the demon, Gor, appeared before her. His face split into an evil grin that showed sharp, darkly stained teeth.

“A formal Challenge?” he crooned. “You are full of surprising bits of information, my lady.”

Siraina swallowed and shifted her feet into a more sturdy stance. Gor was even more hideous than he had been in her dreams. His great purple tongue snaked out at her as he stroked his throat. Siraina's hands tightened into fists. “I, Siraina, Queen of Turrinshold, and Chosen Voice of the Children of the Goddess, do formally challenge you, Gor, to a test of three trials.”

“Hmmm,” sniffed Gor. “I might agree to one trial.”

“Three!” insisted Siraina. “The ritual demands three.”

Gor studied the yellowed talons on one hand, then shrugged. “But I only feel in the mood to do one.”

Siraina bent and pulled a small jeweled dagger from her boot. She drew the blade lightly over her extended wrist leaving a thin trail of blood. “Two,” she said, “no less.”

Gor watched with hungry desire as the blood trickled down her arm and dripped onto the white sand at her feet. “Done,” he rasped. “Begin. What is your first Challenge?”

“Not so fast, demon. I also require an oath from you that you will not cheat. Swear on your mother's name that if in two tries I can name something that is beyond your power to do, you will leave me and my land and my people alone forever.”

Gor laughed a hissing kind of laugh deep in his throat. “There is nothing that I cannot do, my lady. I am the most powerful demon in Hell. You only delay the inevitable.”

“Nevertheless, I demand these two trials.”

“And when I meet your trials?”

“Then I am yours.”

“You will like Hell, my lady.”

“You get ahead of yourself, demon. I repeat. I require an oath from you.”

Gor growled and said nothing.

Siraina held her cut wrist up and let three drops of blood fall upon her tongue. Gor quivered with rage and desire. “Swear the oath!” cried Siraina.

“I swear it,” he hissed, “on my mother's name. Now name the first Challenge.”

Siraina pointed with her dagger toward the lake. “Make this lake in magic power the exact opposite from yourself, so that anything which enters the water which is under a spell from you will be reversed, so that it may destroy anything of you or your power forever.” She smiled coldly at the demon. “Do you think you can do that?”

“Easy,” said Gor, snapping his claws. He mumbled a few words. “Poof, it's done. Let's have the next one.”

“Oh, no,” said Siraina. “I need to see proof. I have a whole land full of people who need healing from your spells and I will not continue until I see that every last one of them is cured by this lake. Now, begone! I will summon you again when I am ready to continue.”

Gor snarled at Siraina, his eyes red and burning. But with a hissing cloud of smoke, he disappeared.

* * *

For two days, Siraina and her men helped her people as they came to bathe in the lake. They arrived from all over the land, on foot, by wagon, mothers and fathers or husbands and wives carrying their afflicted loved ones in their arms, for many could no longer walk. Siraina watched with tears in her eyes as each expression of fear and pain turned to release and joy when the waters worked their healing miracles. All were healed. Gor had indeed met the first challenge.

* * *

At dawn on the third day, Siraina stood again within the circle of protection, thrust her sword into the sand beside the holy lake and called forth the demon. This time she did not stand alone; her people stood behind her.

This time Gor appeared suddenly in a roaring column of fire. A murmur of fear ran through the crowd but all stood strong at Siraina’s back. No one would let their lady stand alone today.

“This is your last chance, my lady,” sneered Gor when the last of the flames had disappeared. “I see you have proved that I met your first challenge.” He leaned in very close to Siraina. She could feel and smell his hot stinking breath on her face. “I hope you can think of something a little harder for the second.” He smiled, showing her his terrible, blackened teeth.

Siraina shuddered at the nearness of those horrible teeth. Days of little sleep and the continuous physical and emotional energy she had spent to help her people had left her near exhaustion. Her mind was filled suddenly with the visions of Gor from her dreams. Again his voice tormented her with his bloody desires. She saw him take her arm and saw his teeth bite into her wrist.

Unconsciously, she took a step backward and nearly lost her balance. The heel of one foot almost smudged the line of her circle of protection before she was able to clear her mind and find her balance.

Gor laughed out loud and threw his arms wide. “Warrior-Queen indeed,” he scoffed loudly. He took two exaggerated steps backward, away from Siraina. “I’ll stand back so I don’t frighten you, my dear. You may continue with this farce as soon as you feel up to it.”

Siraina clenched her fists, steeled herself inwardly and stood up straight in the center of the circle. She took a deep breath and brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes. She could not fail this now. Nodding her readiness to Gor, she spoke the proper words for the next part of the ritual, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. “I concede that you have won the first challenge. Hear then, the second and final challenge.” Siraina paused and extended her arm to point at the Lake of Stars. “I challenge you to go jump in the lake.”

Gor twisted his head around and looked at the Lake of Stars. “That lake?” he squeaked.

“That lake,” asserted Siraina.

Gor turned his back on the water that would destroy him if he so much as touched it and hissed at Siraina. “You have cheated! That is not something I can't do. It's something I won't do. It's not the same!”

“Looks the same to me,” stated Siraina calmly. “Looks like you lose.”

Gor threw back his head and howled. He glared at Siraina with eyes blackened with fury and raised his arms. The sky darkened and a funnel of wind began to swirl outward from around Siraina’s feet. Sand, caught up by the whirling winds, flew in all directions. Siraina’s people huddled together, shielding their eyes with their hands from the stinging, flying sand. When the wind abruptly stopped, the circle Siraina had so carefully drawn was obliterated. With another howl, Gor lunged at Siraina with outstretched claws.

Siraina dropped and rolled aside and pulled her sword from the earth. She raised it just in time to fend off a slash that would have raked her face. Fighting with all her strength and agility, she could barely keep Gor's sharp claws away from herself.

Lightning flashed across the sky and a column of air around the combatants began to shimmer with heat. Sweat poured down Siraina’s face. Her arms were tired. She was out of breath and out of time. The Goddess had been right. Demons never keep a bargain.

A vicious swipe across her sword arm drew blood. Gor laughed triumphantly. Some of the people screamed. Her men tried to help but were blocked by the column of heat created by Gor's magic.

Siraina fought on with growing panic. But wait, there was something she had forgotten. The Goddess had said there was one vow a demon could never break. Gor had broken it. Her sword met the claws with the last of her strength and she fell. Gor loomed over her, teeth bared in hunger lust.

Mother of All, she prayed. I have failed. Without you, I am nothing. Nothing. I see now. At least I will die knowing the truth. I surrender myself to save my people. Tears ran down her face. Mother of All, save your children!

A lovely quiet voice sounded in her ear. “You are mine. You will never be his. Surrender yourself only to me.” Time seemed to slow and stand still. Siraina emptied herself and received the Goddess and oneness with the land. All of motherhood filled her. And knowledge. Her cry of “Sibbol!” echoed across the sky.

Gor dropped trembling to the ground. “No!” he screeched, as a huge black form rose up from the ground at his side. Siraina scrambled away as the giant female demon towered above them. Siraina caught one amazing glimpse of familiar violet and blue eyes, before Sibbol snatched Gor up by the ear. “No, Mother!” he screamed, but Sibbol snarled her answer as they both vanished with a thunderclap.

There was a long moment of astonished silence, then a great cheer went up from the crowd. Merick rushed to Siraina's side and helped her stand. She felt weak from relief yet a strange and wonderful new strength filled her. It seemed to come from everywhere, from the earth, the lake, the plants, the very air. Merick paused, as he met her eyes. A look of awe came over his face and he fell to one knee, bowing before her. “My queen.”

Siraina at last understood. Until now, until she had surrendered herself to the land and her goddess, she had not been truly queen. Her heart filled with love and respect for the people that had believed in her, and followed her anyway, trusting in her to find the truth for all of them, and the love and joy of her people and the land flooded back to her in return.

And she knew something else. Now she had her mother's eyes. The eyes of the Goddess, one violet, one blue.

Lovingly, she raised Merick to his feet. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she raised her hand and the cheering crowd fell silent. “Let us give thanks to the Goddess,” she cried in a clear, strong voice, “for it is she, not I, who has delivered us.”

All the people went down on their knees and the multitude of voices lifted up the chant.

“Mother of All Names,

Mother of All Things . . . “

Siraina saw the face of the Goddess in her mind's eye. Without a doubt, there was great love in those eyes, violet and blue, that had been her mother's, and were now hers, and had also been Sibbol's. Yes, she thought. Truly you are the Mother of All Names and All Things. Even demons. She lifted her sword on high. Sunlight poured down to meet it, sparkling away from the jeweled hilt in a thousand prisms of colored light. “Praise be to the Mother of All,” she cried, and all around her, like a mighty echo, her people took up the cheer.

The End

Review