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Yuval woke with a gasp, body covered in sweat. It was that dream again. For years now the face of that beautiful demon had haunted him. The elongated ears ending in points and decorated with earrings; the dark skin and the long, long, pitch black hair; the black, claw-like nails ready to torn down his enemies... and those eyes. Those gorgeous gold eyes with pupils slit like a cat’s, that shone with a light of their own, eyes that promised pain... and pleasure beyond his most unimaginable thoughts...
The face had haunted his dreams and his nightmares in more ways than one, proof of which was the hard on he now sported. With a heavy sigh, he reached down to touch himself. It still amazed him the response his own body had to the memory of that demon; a demon that by all means should have been frightening to anyone, but whom managed to wake in him only interest. Well, interest, and lust.
Closing his eyes he recalled that face, the strong angles of that jaw, the depth of his stare, the fangs hiding behind full lips. What would those fangs feel like on his skin? He shuddered at the thought, and his hand slid faster on his member, following the hastening pace of his dream-demon, as he imagined himself taking that mouth until, unable to hold back anymore, he spilled hard down that throat... and in reality, all over his hands.
He panted, eyes fluttering open, staring at the ceiling for a good, long moment. In all likelihood the demon would have torn him apart limb by limb before he did anything else. At least that was what the older wizards had said, that he’d been crazy to do such a summon three years before he should even be able to control such potent magic. His excuse – that the other boys had dared him try – had not been enough. His plead to have his demon returned had been denied. To add insult to injury, Yuval had been officially kicked out of Aelion, the one and only academy for wizardry in the whole world, at least if you were serious about learning magic and not just trying to be a third rate town-witch.
But that had been years ago. They had sealed his demon away in a crystal, claiming he was a danger and Yuval would not be able to control him. They had cried foul and called him names. They had banished him from the academy and forbid him to further practice... as if he’d listen to them. They had even tried to bind his magic. Yuval had traveled far and wide to unbind his magic, and then again to work under every witch and wizard; had stolen books and magical artifacts, had traded and bought them, had done everything possible to become the strongest wizard in all the lands. Now, after all those years, he was certain that he was the strongest, and to prove it he had set himself the hardest task yet: he would steal the crystal back from Aelion and he would free his demon. He would have him no matter the cost.
***
Bidding goodbye to his home was not the hardest thing he had done, nor was preparing for what was to come. He had prepared for that day, he’d done his research, and with each step closer to Aelion he revised every part of his plan carefully. He’d learned the maps by heart, knew every nook and cranny the castle offered – and every real and alleged passageway into it. He knew the types of traps he might find, how to detect them, how to overcome them, how not to trip them... he’d planned for everything, failure was not an option.
And so as planned, he arrived via carriage to the vast lake that surrounded the castle – and the village at its shore – just as the sun began to set. There he rented a room for a couple nights and had a warm meal. It’d been long since the villagers had seen him, and it had only been twice then, both when he was far younger. Yuval had grown since, no longer a mere child, now he had the face of a man, the mass of a man, tall and strong – he looked more like a warrior mage than a simple wizard. He did not fear recognition, but he had still decided to lay low and act like he was just passing by. He was, after all, just passing by.
Once done with his dinner he retired to his room. He waited awake until the night grew silent and the lights had gone off, and then, like a common thief, he left not through the door, but through the window of his room, climbing down with care to make as little noise as possible, and securing the cloak and hood around himself. Sneaking through the streets at the time was not difficult, he found no one but a few drunkards and harlots on the way to the docks, but once there it was another matter. Yuval followed the shadows from building to crate and past, trying to avoid sight of the sentries stationed before ships. He could not pick a boat that was close to the larger fishing ships, he would have to pick one on the farther corners of the docks. In passing, he startled a homeless man. With a signal for him to be silent, Yuval dropped a few coins in his hand and the man, with a nod of gratitude, let him go without raising the alarm.
The boat he found at the edge of the docks was in poor conditions. Yuval cursed his bad luck under his breath, but it was still within his calculations. With a few words and a hand gesture, the spell that would make the boat temporarily impervious to water was set in place. He pushed the boat off the bank and into it he hopped, using his own strength to row it ahead, should he need to save his energy for harder spells.
He had reached three quarters of the way there before the first protection spell was to be found. It was a simple confounding spell, meant to make him lose his way and instead make him sail back to shore, but Yuval knew better; he’d encountered many before on his trips, and knew to recognize them when he felt one take hold of his psyche. Another chant and another symbol drawn in the air granted him clarity of mind and eyes, and he reached the rocky shores of Aelion’s island with no further hindrance. Around he rowed to reach the side, find the cave that had been in some maps – there, further ahead, the crack in the rock was barely visible, and it barely fit his boat. Unguarded, long unused, but not entirely forgotten. He rowed within this cave until he reached the old passages, a spell got him through a few locked doors, yet another disarmed a trap, deeper in, and up the stairs, he stopped short of triggering an alarm. Some old style thieving skills took care of that one, and a spell or five removed the rest. But he was barely out of the underground passageways by then, and he knew the sun would soon come up. He had to make a choice. He could wait the day out in the passageways, but feared being missed in the city... he could risk it in the daytime and try to recover the crystal then, or he could try to rush through it now, and hope to be back in the passageways before anyone would see him.
Yuval pondered his choices quickly, but with care. Keeping up a spell to shield his appearance so he could move during the day would take a lot of energy and it might not fool higher wizards fully, so he would leave it as a last resort. He could not risk waiting until the next night. He would have to try and rush through.
His choice made, he peered out the passageway and into the dark storage chamber, and then quickly but carefully made his way out into the academy itself. The place was large, but having come through the lower levels, he was already much closer to where the crystal was likely to be stored – along with all the other magical artifacts. Reaching the vault was not difficult, stripping spell after spell of predictable wards, Yuval could not help but think the old wizards had gotten comfortable in their ways. When the large double doors of the vault finally opened for him, Yuval was left speechless. He’d often heard of the many treasures to be found there, but he had somehow not expected... this.
Wall to wall, floor to ceiling, the vault was filled with books and items that reverberated with magic. Some looked mundane, like the books and the knife, a ladle or a simple chair; some downright horrific, like the severed human hand burnt to a crisp, or the head with the sewn in mouth, with eyes that tracked every move; others yet were clearly magical, glowing with energy. Like his crystal.
There, further ahead, almost to the middle of the vault, was his crystal. Blood red, it glowed beautifully. Yuval no longer had eyes for the rest of the treasures when he saw it, and unable to stop himself, hurried at once to it. He knew something was wrong the moment his hand hovered over it. This was a magical crystal, yes, but it was not his crystal.
“You took long to come,” the voice came from behind him, old and crimped.
Yuval swerved to look at his old instructor, the one who had captured his demon, the same one who had kicked him out of the academy.
“Did we not forbid you to return here? Ah, but I knew you would – for this.” Old boney fingers wrapped around a chain at his neck, and pulled from within the layers of his robes a crystal much like the one he’d just seen: Oval, multi-faceted, a bright blood red, but tainted with the ghost of some sort of black smoke. It moved within it, alive.
This was the right crystal. This was his demon, he could feel it.
“That is rightfully mine, old man.” Yuval said, licking his lips, eyes fixed on the crystal.
The old wizard let it rest against his chest, his other hand rested on a staff which seemed to hold most of his weight. “You still don’t understand the danger... ”
“He’s but a demon, I could tame him.” Yuval argued.
“Not any demon!” the high wizard argued, looking at him like he would any spoiled child. “Did you not see those eyes? The claws. The marking on his forehead-”
“I saw.” Yuval cut off, impatient.
“It all spells death. It’s too strong a demon for a mere human to tame, let alone a child like you. It is amazing you could even summon it.” The wizard shook his head, tapping the crystal. “It feeds on us. Even now, trapped away, it is sapping my energy constantly. Every day it brings me closer to death, not even the best of us has been able to banish him back to whence he came.”
“Then give him to me. What do you care if he eats me to death? You know he’s mine by right, old man. Summons are bound, and I summoned him.”
“And once he eats you alive, he’ll be free to destroy this world. No, my child,” the high wizard said. He raised the hand with his staff, mumbling the words of a spell, in the blink of an eye a ball of green energy exploded Yuval’s way. “I cannot allow it!”
Yuval barely had time to react, dodging sideways and rolling out of the way, he sprung to his feet. He did not bother with a staff, they were meant to focus your energy and make magic easier, but Yuval had long since learned to channel his power not through elements of power, but through his own hands. Fingers crackled with something akin to electricity, and he shot back. The high wizard blinked out of view and back into view again, just a bit away. It looked like he’d disappeared, but it was only magically-heightened speed. Two could play that game.
Green energy clashed against blue electricity, creating sparks, fighting for dominance. Magic blow for magic blow, they were matched.
“You’ve grown so much stronger,” the high wizard said. “Such a pity your talents are thus wasted.”
“Not wasted,” Yuval said as he dodged another green orb of power, this time skidding to the left, to where a sword was encased in glass. With an elbow he broke it, with the other hand he took the sword.
“No!”
Yuval leapt, the sword making an arch on the air as it came down and hit hard against the staff, raised just in the nick of time to prevent the blow from slicing the wizard clean in two, but Yuval could feel most the wizard’s magic was focused on not having the sword slice through the staff, and therefore himself.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.” The old man rasped.
“Oh, but I do,” Yuval called. He spared a hand from the sword to instead clasp his fingers around the necklace, catching the man off guard.
“No!”
“Come forth –!”
The crystal cracked.
“No!!” The high wizard suddenly stopped the spell. The sword, imbued with magic – both its own and Yuval’s – cut through the staff like butter... and through the old man’s shoulder, at an angle, reaching deep towards his chest. The man gurgled.
Yuval hadn’t expected the sword to cut so cleanly and easily through the old man. Surprised by this, Yuval’s spell had been interrupted, and though he ripped the necklace from the old man’s neck, the demon was not yet freed.
“No... ” The old wizard’s voice came weakly one last time. “... Doom us... Fool... ”
Yuval stumbled back, carrying the sword with him. He had not really meant to kill the old man, and yet there he lay now, dying. He’d been willing to risk his own life to prevent him from recovering his demon.
“You’re the fool one, old man,” Yuval whispered, taking a few steps back. “You didn’t need to die for this.”
He turned on his heels and ran, crystal still held firm in his grasp.
Although Yuval expected the way back to be met with plenty a wizard ready to kill them, it seemed the old man had not bothered to raise an alarm, and the vault had likely served to hide the bouts of magic dispelled in the room – as it was designed to do. Holding tight to the crystal and the sword, Yuval ran all the way back to the passageway, knowing he was working against the clock as he could already hear the first stirrings of life. The boat came next, this time using magic to speed it back to the docks before he’d be noticed.
The sun was rising by the time he approached the docks, it meant people would be around already, the market likely setting up and the fishermen already setting out, so he took his boat further away from the docks, to the shore, and chose to walk from there. He hadn’t really left anything behind that he might need – some herbs and nothing else. He’d traveled light on purpose.
It didn’t really dawn on Yuval that he was still carrying the sword as well until he hit the shore and had to drag himself out of the boat, and the weight of the bloodied sword along with him. He looked back at it. He’d carried it as if in a trance, aware only of the crystal on his hand, and not what the other still held. He pocketed the crystal briefly, and ripped a piece of his under-robe to clean the metal of the sword. It was two-sided; silver, no doubt, with ancient runes carved in it. The hilt was thick and long, with a silver dragon winding over the wrapped leather, its wings spread to the sides to guard the hands, the dragon mouth open at the center, its tongue the blade. It was a two-handed sword. The pommel a beautiful engraved design on the outside, the bottom of it a ruby. Yuval was certain he could feel the dull hum of magic from it, and surely, if it was kept in the vault it was likely to have been important, powerful, or even dangerous. And now...
... Now it was his.
Yuval took off his cloak to wrap the sword in it. He had nowhere else to carry it, had no sheath for it, and did not want to carry it in the open. He stuck his free hand back in his pocket and let his fingers play over the facets of the cracked crystal.
“Soon,” he promised in a whisper, starting to walk once again.
Shore gave way to forest, and Yuval kept off the main paths for a while, afraid of being pursued. Eventually they would find the old man, the missing crystal, the missing sword. It was a matter of time. He probably had nothing to fear yet, but he didn’t want to tempt fate.
As he walked through the forest to the next city, his fingers played with the crystal. He was half tempted to free the demon already, but he could not do it. Not yet, not so close to the wizards’ academy. He had to be patient and wait.
Soon, when they were safe.
Soon.
“Just a little more... ” he whispered to his demon.
