Lar meets the enemy of his enemy

“Road” was the name for this thing. It was the way of men to take the same paths until they trod the life out of them, leaving dust and ash and dead, stony ground. Given enough time, Lar thought, they would surely trample the earth bare.

Sometimes they left a few trees to line the road, and beside one of these Lar waited, on the road that led up to the temple of the men that was called “abbey.” Church-​men often went this way.

It was said that church-​men possessed remarkable magic—even unto the power to unblind a damned elf. However, it was also well-​known that church-​men did not carry weapons, and—though this Lar found difficult to believe—they were not permitted to attack in any case. Lar did not wish to fight.

When the lone church-​man had nearly reached his tree, Lar detached himself from its silhouette and strode out into the middle of the dusty road.

The church-​man did not even appear startled. He certainly did not appear frightened. Surely, Lar thought, such courage could only repose upon great magic.

“Good evening,” the church-​man said.

This was a greeting. Lar knew that men greeted one another by referring to the time of day. It sufficed to find the right word and attach it to “good”, difficult as that word was for him to pronounce.

“Good evening,” Lar repeated.

Now he would have to make the speech that he had been practicing all day. He had practiced the “f” sound until his bottom lip was tingling, and had even submitted to the embarrassment of practicing the spitty “th” sound before the snickering fourteen-​year-​old twins who knew English better than any of his people.

But it was more important not to embarrass himself before a man.

“Do you speak sometimes to elf Osh?” he asked.

“Yes, I see him often.”

“You tell this to him: when moon is dark, woman Hel tries to kill cousin of him, elf Dru. He finds somehow to tell to elf Dru. If he tells not, woman Hel will kill.”

Lar concluded with a scowl and a firm nod.

The man asked, “You wish me to warn Osh that his cousin will be killed?”

“Woman Hel will kill.”

“I shall warn him.”

Lar did not know “warn.” “You tell him,” he insisted, to be sure.

“I shall tell him.”

Lar nodded again.

The man did not duck his head and scurry away after this exchange. He was older, smaller, and sicklier than Lar, but he met him eye to eye.

Lar did not wish to try to stare him into submission. He did not think the church-​man knew fear, and worse, those glittering, bloodshot eyes seemed to stare through him into places he wanted to remain hidden.

Neither did Lar wish to submit. He lowered his gaze, but he did not look away. And then he saw something that interested him into unrehearsed speech.

“Is it book for summon of dae-​mon?”

“Is it what?” the church-​man gasped. “Certainly not! These are the Gospels. These are the books that tell about our Lord Jesus Christ—the enemy of demons!”

“Enemy of dae-​mon book!” Lar gasped. “Give to me.”

“I have not so many books that I may give them away,” the church-​man grumbled. “Can you even read it?”

“Woman Hel can read it.”

“Is she your friend?”

“She is my enemy,” Lar said grimly. “She is enemy of dae-​mon also. I am enemy of dae-​mon also. I need book of summon enemy of dae-​mon.”

The man clasped the book between his two hands. “Enemy of demon, you say you are?” he asked thoughtfully.

“Enemy of dae-​mon Dre.”

The man sucked in his breath.

“Elf Dre is dae-​mon,” Lar explained. “Elf Dre is my enemy.”

“Dre?” the man whispered. “Eight?”

“Eight…?”

The man tucked his book beneath his arm so that he could hold up eight fingers.

“Eight! Eight!” Lar said. “Dre is name for him. For spider also.”

“I see…”

“You see dae-​mon Dre?”

“No! I mean… With the mark on his face?”

Lar did not understand the word “mark.” He patted his left cheek and asked, “Face?”

The man patted his own cheek and repeated, “A mark on his face. I…”

He hesitated and looked intently into Lar’s eyes. This time Lar did not turn them away. His own secrets were less important than any help this church-​man could give him.

“…believe I saw this demon once,” the man murmured. “It was a woman with this mark on her face.”

“A woman?”

Hel had told him that Dre could change his form and even appear to be an animal. Perhaps he would go as a woman to see men. Hel herself had never seen his true face.

“A woman,” the church-​man repeated. “And the young Lady Iylaine saw him, too, but he appeared as the elf Vash.”

“Also, mark on face?” Lar asked.

“Yes. That is how she knew.”

Lar looked away so that he would be granted a moment to think. So Dre had taken other forms and gone among the men. What was he doing? All Lar knew of Dre’s activities was that he was obsessed with entrapping the Bright Lady.

“And Sir Aengus and his young cousins saw him,” the man continued. “He came as the elf Lar.”

Lar inhaled a snarling breath.

It had never occurred to him that Dre could take his own form. It had never occurred to him that Dre would dare. It was another violation. Dre was more evil than anything Lar could have imagined—and Lar’s imagination was particularly malevolent.

Before he could ask what Dre had done in the guise of Lar, the man asked, “Do you ever see this demon Dre?”

“I see him…”

Lar flushed in frustration and embarrassment. He had such difficulties with expressions of time in English, but this was not the time to be silent to spare his pride.

“Full moon… before.” He waved his hands behind him, trying to indicate the past.

“The last full moon?” the church-​man asked. “That is when he tried to kill Lady Iylaine. That is when he killed her father.”

So the “pretty young girl” Lar’s father had saved was the elf Iylaina. It was no wonder his father would save her, in that case. But he did not know why Dre would try to kill her, unless he had been thinking the Bright Lady might act to save her.

“Did he try to kill you?” the man asked.

“No. He talks to me. He talks to woman Hel.”

“Is he your friend?”

“He is my enemy. He knows. But I am tool for him. I am weapon for him. I am servant for him.”

Even in English the words were so distasteful Lar had to turn his head and spit.

“This is grave,” the man said. Lar did not understand “grave,” but he understood the man’s voice.

“I need book of summon enemy of dae-​mon,” Lar insisted. He even put aside his pride long enough to add, “Please!”

“That is not how it works,” the church-​man said with an unexpected gentleness. “But I can help you. I can help you protect yourself from him, and then we shall see what can be done. Will you come with me?”

Lar turned to look at the long road that led up to the temple of the men that was called “abbey.” The place held a particular horror for him, both because he feared the church-men’s magic and because Dartesas had climbed that hill to take the stolen child to the men and doomed himself thereby.

But the man saw him hesitate and added humbly, “Please?”