Episode 67

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

Later that evening, after Lilian had learned about the demon king Tauroc from her father, she left her home and headed for Mrs Thoreson’s place at the north end of town. Her and Fritha were the last to arrive. Mrs Thoreson, Serena, Peter, Brother Thomas and Doran were all there and busy preparing the space for the night’s activities. They were in the library and were moving furniture back against the wall so that there was more floor space. The various rugs and carpets were rolled up and moved as well to reveal a beautiful dark wood floor. Doran gazed at the space with trepidation, “I feel bad taking chalk to such a well kept floor.” He held a chalk rock in his right hand and was looking nervously down at the floor.

Mrs Thoreson laughed, “This floor belongs to me and so I say it’s alright. Besides, it’s not the state of the floor that worries me most.” Lilian walked into the space at that moment and gathered them all together.

“Sorry I’m late, I’ve just been talking with my father. I was telling him about how frustrating this whole experience has been, about how no one at the grove believes me about Sage Fenric. He said that I reminded him of Freddr Horbling.” At the mention of that name, everyone’s faces lit up a little and they shared hopeful looks. “He’d never told me the story but apparently it was quite a popular one when he was a boy.” She told them all the story as quickly as she could, making sure to cover all the important details. The story did not get interesting however until the end, “It’s not really about Horbling, it’s about the traveller. He employs a demon to stop Severen from interfering.”

At that point Doran grumbled something about old stories and the way they portrayed travellers but Lilian kept going, not wishing to be distracted, “The demon we’re dealing with apparently is the only one strong enough to stop a god, it was trapped many years ago but it can’t be killed. It’s portrayed as a bull or a cow in pictures and stories.” Lilian had a hard time imagining a cow being particularly scary but then she remembered something one of the mercenaries from the hundred she’d employed two years ago had said. The soldier called Solveig had the helmet of a cow and asked Lilian if she knew how many people cows killed every year. Lilian had been shocked by the answer.

“What’s its name?” asked Serena, “Maybe we’ve heard of it.”

Lilian looked at the group and repeated the demon’s name, “Tauroc,” she said. She watched three faces fall at that moment. Mrs Thoreson, Brother Thomas and Doran all looked as though someone had just told them their dinner had been burned.

“Tauroc?” Peter repeated, “Never heard of it.”

Lilian looked at Brother Thomas who, judging by the colour of his face, seemed to be the most disturbed of the three older people.

“I… Well… I mean he’s not real though. So…” Brother Thomas stuttered and mumbled his way through a reply. He seemed to Lilian like he was getting further away and she noticed that his feet were walking back slightly. Strangely, he didn’t seem to be aware of what he was doing.

“I’m afraid demon’s are very real Brother Thomas,” said Mrs Thoreson, “Even Tauroc.” She began to look around with new eyes, “We should get everything out of here, ward the doors and windows, shut the curtains and lock the doors. Quickly now.” The group set to work. Brother Thomas seemed glad of the distraction but his face had not quite regained its original colour by the time they finished. During all of this Doran and Mrs Thoreson set about marking the floor and walls with chalk. They drew reference from several books and came to more than one argument as to which sigils they should be using. After an hour and a half the room was completely empty and the walls and floor looked like a thousand spinning tops with chalk bottoms had been let loose. Lilian examined the sigils in awe. Doran was clearly not just a talented story teller, but an artist as well. He had a deft hand and an eye for detail.

“Careful,” he said, seeing Lilian was about to touch one of the chalk markings on the wall, “even one broken line could spell disaster. Last thing we want is this Tauroc to think he can walk out of here.”

Peter was admiring the patterns in the centre of the dark floor, “so, these will keep him in this room?”

“That’s the idea,” replied Mrs Thoreson, “But the keeping is not going to be our biggest problem. Doran has done a fine job with these but what we must do now is work out how to summon him here. This could take quite some time. Maybe several days.”

Lilian’s stomach dropped, “Days?” she exclaimed, “But…”

Mrs Thoreson shot her look that quashed her small rebellion in an instant, “I know,” she said, “We do not have days. But I believe that this is the best way to tackle this. Draw Tauroc out and ask him what kind of bargain he has with Fenric. Then we find a way to match or best it, pushing Fenric out of the deal. Are we in agreement?”

It was clear to Lilian that Mrs Thoreson was tired and had run out of patience. No one said anything out loud, they just nodded at her when she looked at them. Brother Thomas took a few seconds longer to nod than the rest of them, but in the end, he confirmed that it was indeed their best plan to date.

“So what happens next?” Asked Serena, keen and ready to start.

“Next we read this passage from this book,” she pointed to the book in her hand which was bound with dark leather and judging from the yellowed pages, clearly very old. Not for the first time that evening Lilian wondered how Mrs Thoreson came to know so much about demons, but then she realised that she was herself learning those exact skills at that very moment. “It lasts for about two pages and should be said at least once every ten minutes,” Mrs Thoreson continued, “it does not always have to be the same person so we can take shifts. Brother Thomas and Peter, would you kindly fetch us some food and water from the kitchen. Lilian, I want you to watch me make the first few readings, you’re taking over after me. Mr Doran, check the sigils again.” She took a second then to pause and look about the space. She reminded Lilian in that moment of a cliff diver, analysing the height and trajectory of the fall before taking the leap. “This is not going to be fun, or easy. If at any point you wish to walk away or you see something you really do not like, the rest of us will not judge you. But once we start, we do not stop. Not for anything. At least one must remain. Opening a door to the demon world means that anything can get through, we must act as callers, wardens and judges and we do not stop until we get what we want. A demon will sense our urgency and keep us waiting. They will sense our fear and play tricks on us. They will know we need them and they will do everything they can to make us pay for that need. We are stronger and better than them as long as we stick together. Do we understand?”

Once again, everyone nodded. But this time, that agreement came less readily. After a few nervous looks, the group set to work.

The first five hours went by without any sign of activity. By the third hour everyone had learned the incantation by heart. The summoning words were in an old and forgotten language and made a sort of poem that did not rhyme and that made little sense when directly translated. They made sure to always have two people awake and on watch for every third of an hour. One person would recite and the other would make sure each word was said correctly. The last thing they wanted was to go ten minutes having said a wrong or mispronounced word. Lilian did not know what would happen if that came to pass but seeing as they were dealing with demons, she was in no hurry to find out. They slept and ate in shifts and passed the awake time playing silent word games in a corner of the room.

After six hours had passed Lilian went to the window and looked out across the empty road. It was Doran’s turn to recite the words and he was being observed by Brother Thomas. Mrs Thoreson came over to the window to stand by Lilian. Lilian’s eyes narrowed at the view. There was something strange about it.

“It’s still so dark, surely the Sun is going to rise any minute now,” she said in a low voice.

Mrs Thoreson shook her head, “Doubtful,” she said, “we’re between worlds now. We will not see the sun again for some time.”

Mrs Thoreson went to relieve Doran and Lilian went back to staring out of the window. She had assumed that since they hadn’t seen anything strange that the summoning wasn’t working yet. But the darkness outside had a strange quality to it. The spell had started without her noticing.

At the ninth hour people’s patience started to wear thin. Serena snapped at Doran accusing him of stealing a bun she had made. When he denied the allegation Serena was forced to conclude that the bun may never have existed. More things started going missing and at one point in a haze of fatigue Lilian could have sworn she saw pictures forming in the patterns on the wallpaper. Every time someone lost there temper, or became incredible hungry after having only just eaten, or claimed to see lights in the top corners of the room Mrs Thoreson would bring them all back to reality with a stern word or a harsh look.

“Pay it no attention,” became her favourite phrase and she said it often. Lilian heard it so much that was prepared to shout at Mrs Thoreson to shut her mouth the next time she said it. But the old woman was prepared for her and as soon as Lilian got up from her seat on the floor and stomped over to where Mrs Thoreson was standing the town elder turned to stare at her and whispered emphatically, “Pay it no attention.” Lilian heard the words as if for the first time and shook herself out of her angered state and went over to where Fritha was sleeping on the floor.

Lilian lost count of the hours. It had not been a day, but it felt like it had been a week. Everyone was tired and irritable and the sound of the poem felt like listening to a child playing a broken fiddle. Just when she was becoming convinced that nothing would ever happen, Lilian stood up in shock, surprised by a memory and a thought combined. Serena looked up at her from the floor.

“Paintings,” said Lilian.

“What?” Serena asked, just as bewildered as the rest of them. Even Peter who’s turn it was to recite the words glanced over at her with a look of confusion.

“Paintings. It’s trapped in paintings. That’s why there were so many in the church, that’s why Fenric is having everyone paint a mural, Tauroc is living in paintings.” Without another word or explanation she ran out of the room and headed straight for the dining room. She knew there were a few works of art in there and she was looking for one she could easily lift off the wall. The rest of the house was just as dark as the library and she had to strain her eyes to find a painting of a house in the country. The small red brick building was in the midground and surrounded by trees. Lilian had no idea if her theory would work but this painting seemed as good as any to test it out.

She ran back to the library and leaned the painting up against the far wall, surrounded by a semicircle of Doran’s sigils. She turned back to the group who were looking at her as though she had just brought in a rabid animal, “Just trust me, it can’t hurt, can it?” She directed the question to Mrs Thoreson who shrugged. Everyone went back to their various business and games and Peter redoubled his efforts in repeating the poem correctly.

Lilian stared at the painting. She ate occasionally and she repeated the poem correctly when it was her turn, but for the most part she did not take her eyes off of the pictured scene. She began to feel like she knew every brick in that house, every leaf that made up the trees around it. It was a good painting and she could see why Mrs Thoreson would have it hanging in her home. She particularly liked the mist enveloping the distant mountains. But try as she might to see something there, nothing about it changed.

“I think it was a good idea,” said Serena. It was a couple of hours after the painting had been brought into the room and she had just played her third winning hand in Four Ladies against Lilian. “Like you say, it’s worth a try. That’s another game for me. You’re normally better than this.”

“Hm? Oh sorry,” said Lilian, “I’m just distracted.” Lilian looked back down at the floor where the cards lay scattered and couldn’t believe how she’d missed Serena’s ten in her last hand.

“I understand. I think everyone is a bit… distracted. It’s been an odd night. If it has just been a night. Still, if this is what it takes for me to beat you at four ladies then maybe we should summon demons more often.”

“Hmm,” Lilian answered absent mindedly, not really acknowledging the joke.

Serena turned back to the painting, “What if we tried a different pain…” Suddenly, she stopped talking. Lilian was still examining her losing hand and so failed to notice, “Were those cows always there?”

Lilian looked up and saw Serena staring fixedly at the painting at the other end of the room. It took her a couple of seconds to register what she had said but as soon as her mind cleared she whipped round to stare at the painting. There were cows there. In the field. Little dots of brown and white just down past the house. Lilian looked at them with wide eyes. Had they always been there? Surely yes. She just hadn’t noticed them. She counted four of them. There were four cows in the painting. She said the words to herself in her mind so that she could be sure of them if she ever doubted herself again. There were four cows in the painting. There were four cows. There… Lilian rubbed her eyes trying desperately to chase the sleep from her heavy eyelids. Looking back at the painting she counted the cows again. Five. There were five cows in the painting. Just like there had always been.

MUSIC - summoning the demon king

No. Something wasn’t right. She remembered six cows, not five. Where had the last cow gone? Or had it been three? Were the number of cows increasing or decreasing? Lilian stood up. By now the others had heard what Serena had said and were trying to do their own cow calculations. Mrs Thoreson was repeating the words but even she was keeping her eyes on the painting in the far end of the room.

Lilian’s mind was becoming increasingly foggy. She knew that the cows were important, but she could no longer remember why. Why was everyone just staring at these two cows? They weren’t moving. They were big and well painted and had always been in the foreground of the painting. Why had she brought this painting of a cow into the library anyway? Ah yes, she remembered, they were summoning something. A demon. So why did they need this painting of a large brown cow? Was it a cow? Or a bull? She couldn’t tell from the angle it was painted. It was just a large bull’s head, staring at them all from inside the frame. Lilian had been looking at this painting for hours now as if she was expecting the bull to blink or something. Why was she not looking away? Why not go back to the game of cards. Something was happening but she could not think what. Lilian’s heart began to beat quickly, everyone in the room was suddenly transfixed by this stupid painting of a solemn looking bull. Brother Thomas was walking closer to it, Lilian wanted to join him. She didn’t want the church Brother to obscure her view of it. It was such a beautiful painting after all, it would be a shame not to be able to see it. Lilian became suddenly aware of the amount of noise in the room. Was it raining outside? It sounded like the windows were being thrashed with lashing of the heaviest rain. It was a sound like the ocean, like a blaring white noise. Lilian nearly put her hands up to block her ears; it was so raucous. She could no longer hear Mrs Thoreson repeating the words. How long had it been raining like this? Lilian glanced at the window. As soon as the outside world came into view, the sound stopped.

There was no rain or water on the window panes. And beyond them the street was bleak and quiet. Lilian was glad of the quiet. The noise had been bothering her even though she could not tell when it had begun. She looked back at the painting. It was the painting of a farmhouse in the middle distance, surrounded by trees. In the background were some misty mountains. Everything was quiet and Lilian felt calm.

The breath came from behind her. From behind all of them. Lilian could tell from the deepness of the sound that it was coming from something with large lungs. Fear began to creep slowly into her body. Normally she would expect Fritha to make her fear sensing sound, but the feinhound was busy growling at something behind her. Lilian felt a bead of cold sweat begin to fall down her forehead from her hairline. Slowly, she turned around.

Somehow it had gotten into the room. She had not seen it enter, she had not heard its steps. But it was there, at the far end of the library, shovelling the last few pieces of a pie that it had found near the back. At first, Lilian thought it was a man, a large man no doubt. At least eight feet tall with a back as wide as the side of a small house. Each muscle stood out defined and strong. Its arms were like tree trunks, with deft and dexterous fingers, men’s fingers, at the ends of them. It wore no shirt, but its lower half was covered with a wrapping, a patterned green and blue material fastened by a large pin on its waist. What stopped Lilian thinking of it as just a large man, was its head. Sitting squarely on top of its massive shoulders was the head of a bull. White with brown patches, horned and horrible. Its big lips slapped their way around the pie and Lilian could see its long tongue work its way out of its mouth to eagerly taste the contents of its hand. It was relaxed, paying no attention to the people surrounding it and even though it shot Fritha an occasional look with one of its big brown eyes the feinhound did not seem to bother it.

Presently, It spoke, “Good pies these, have thee more?” Its voice was low and gruff. It looked from Serena to Peter, to Lilian. It snorted and repeated the question, “Have thee more?” Lilian snapped out of her daze and was about to speak, about to offer it another when Mrs Thoreson stepped forward.

“You can have another later, and more besides. You’ve taken one without asking already but I’m willing to let that go if you help us.”

Tauroc, the demon king, looked over at her as if noticing her for the first time. Lilian watched its wide brow twist into a scowl.

“I smell more. I’ll take more,” it uttered the words like a threat.

Mrs Thoreson stepped forwards and her tone became harsh, “You’ll take what is given and be thankful.”

The demon stared at the old woman and she stared back defiant. For a brief moment Lilian thought they might break out into a fight but after a few tense seconds Tauroc rolled its big eyes, “Very well,” it conceded. Then quickly its right hand shot out towards Mrs Thoreson as if it was trying to strangle her from ten feet away. Mrs Thoreson seemed gripped by an invisible force. Lilian thought she was in pain and she was seconds away from intervening when the strangest thing happened. Tauroc whipped its hand back and in that second Mrs Thoreson transformed. The deep lines and wrinkles in her face fell away. She stood up more straight, her clothes became baggy as she lost weight all within a moment. It was as if the demon had snatched a cloth that had been covering her. Lilian was looking at a young Mrs Thoreson, no more than thirty years old.

“There,” said Tauroc, “now where is that second meal?” it went back to sniffing the air and looking about the room. Lilian could not take her eyes of Mrs Thoreson.

“Foolish imp,” the now young woman said, “I did not ask for this.”

“Thou did not have to, it is what you all wish for. I give it gladly. Fifty years for some food. I’ve given less for more.”

Mrs Thoreson stomped her foot and began to shout, “Give me back my years, this instant or we shall cast you back into the painting and burn it, we shall burn your church, burn your books and I shall be spending these fifty years making sure no one ever speaks your name again. Give me back my years.”

Tauroc paused. Lilian caught sight of his big lip curl into a snide smile. He shrugged and flicked his fingers back at Mrs Thoreson. Her age fell back upon her. Her cheeks were dragged down, her waist filled her dress and the skin on her hands loosened to the point that Lilian was familiar with. It was as if a lifetime of experience had been draped over her body. Lilian could feel her hand begin to shake. She had seen her share of power in her life, but this was something else. Fritha, sensing fear came over to stand beside her. The size and weight of the feinhound leaning against her did bring some comfort and Lilian was able to focus again.

Presently the demon king stood up. At his full height his ears almost touched the ceiling. The bulk of him took up so much space Lilian was glad they'd removed all the furniture. He looked down at all of them individually and curled his lip again.

"Quite the gathering here. Pride, vanity, fear and guilt. What are we celebrating?"

This last question was directed at Lilian who summoned all her bravery and stepped forward. For some reason, she was reminded of her first meeting with Bried and her gang. Her and Mr Attorcop had gone to see the head of Freedos' crime syndicate in the hopes of finding information. They had needed to extract information without letting on what they really wanted. As soon as a demon senses what you really want, it's sure to come with a price.

"So this is Sage Fenric's puppet? I must say, I thought I would be more impressed." She directed this statement casually to Peter who was looking at her as though she'd lost her mind. Tauroc glared at her. Lilian could tell by the tension of the muscles in his neck that she'd hit a nerve. Good, she thought, anger leads to mistakes.

"Fenric? That fool worships me as a God. If there were puppetry, twould be he with strings on his back.”

Lilian scoffed, “Save us the theatrics. We already know the nature of your relationship and what it is he has you running around doing.”

Tauroc raised a furry eyebrow, “Well then, if thou hast it all figured, why summon me here? I am not famous for my wit at parties.” The demon king laughed, a low and grunting chuckle that shook several loose panels on the wall.

Lilian did not want to paint herself into a corner, but she knew that eventually they would get down to brass tax, “you’re here on our calling and you will be banished when we’ve done with you. Tell us now, what is Fenric’s price? And are you willing to have it matched?”

The atmosphere in the room became very close. Tauroc large eyes flicked between Lilian and the rest of the congregation. He was probably not used to being ordered around by a young woman. It was as though he was expecting someone else to interrupt, for the group to fall down fighting. But they were steadfast and Tauroc was after all a demon, and demon’s are not to be trusted.

“Matched?” the demon repeated, “neigh young one, I may be duplicitous but even the demon king has some standard. I may yet be persuaded but my price for betrayal is double than that for my service.”

Lilian pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, “We shall see,” she said softly. A piece of advice Mr Attorcop had once given her flashed in her head, ‘no deal is always better than a bad deal’. If worse came to worst she would banish the demon and take the loss. They already had the suspicion that Fenric had employed Tauroc confirmed, now it was just about making the most out of the interaction.

Presently, the demon in the room seemed to become momentarily distracted. He glanced towards the window for just a second. Lilian sensed the distraction. “Are we keeping you from something?” She asked.

Tauroc looked back at the window, “what is this place?” he asked, and then walked to the window and gazed out at the strange, dark version of Benlunar.

“This is our home,” replied Lilian, “this is why you’re here. Fenric has come and plans to use you in its undoing. We’re going to stop that from happening.” Lilian had expected her words to have more of an effect. But the demon king just kept staring out into the darkness.

“Strange,” he muttered, “something out there. I sense it.”

“It’s our home, our community,” Brother Thomas suddenly spoke up, finding courage from within the depths of his faith, “the love here is what you sense, it gives us strength, strength to deal with the likes of Fenric and you demon.” He practically spat the last word. Lilian was glad to see him overcome his fear, but worried that their guest might be growing tired of being disrespected.

Tauroc looked at him out of the corner of his eye, as if a cat in the corner of the room had just woken up and stretched, “Perhaps,” he whispered. Then, his body shifted and he turned back to Lilian, deeming her to be the serious one. He rolled his boulder shoulders and flicked his ears about like he was batting away flies. “Thou,” he said, walking towards Lilian, “Timeo-canis electi. Thou talkst of deals, then let’s have it.” The cow man walked back towards Lilian, sending shock waves through the wooden floor with every step. “I tire of talk. If Fenric is here then your town is good as dead. He does the bulk of the work, I just give him some power to convince or trick the influential. If you’re all fighting him, then you’ve more power than you think. If he summons me, I’m bound to do his bidding, but it is a rare occurrence.”

Lilian tried to take this all in and strategise, but it was a lot all at once. She tried to formulate a clever response but was too desperate to ask the question she’d been burning to ask from the start. She fell to temptation, “What?” She said, “What does Fenric get you to do if he summons you to a town?”

The demon king’s bovine features twisted into a flat toothed smile, “Destroy it.”