The Demon Cycle Books 1-3 and Novellas: The Painted Man, The Desert Spear, The Daylight War plus The Great Bazaar and Brayan’s Gold and Messenger’s Legacy. Peter V. Brett
just as loud as the others.
After the music came acrobatics, and magic tricks. Along the way, Keerin made a few jests about husbands that had the women shrieking with laughter while the men frowned, and a few about wives that had the men slapping their thighs as the women glared.
Finally, the Jongleur paused and held up his hands for silence. There was a murmur from the crowd, and parents nudged their youngest children forward, wanting them to hear. Little Jessi Boggin, who was only five, climbed right into Arlen’s lap for a better view. Arlen had given her family a few pups from one of Jeph’s dogs a few weeks ago, and now she clung to him whenever he was near. He held her as Keerin began the Tale of the Return, his high voice dropping into a deep, booming call that carried far into the crowd.
‘The world was not always as you see it,’ the Jongleur told the children. ‘Oh no. There was a time when humanity lived in balance with the demons. Those early years are called the Age of Ignorance. Does anyone know why?’ He looked around the children in front, and several raised their hands.
‘Because there wasn’t any wards?’ a girl asked, when Keerin pointed to her.
‘That’s right!’ the Jongleur said, turning a somersault that brought squeals of glee from the children. ‘The Age of Ignorance was a scary time for us, but there weren’t as many demons then, and they couldn’t kill everyone. Much like today, humans built what they could during the day, and the demons would tear it down each night.
‘As we struggled to survive,’ Keerin went on, ‘we adapted, learning how to hide food and animals from the demons, and how to avoid them.’ He looked around as if in terror, and then ran behind one child, cringing. ‘We lived in holes in the ground, so they couldn’t find us.’
‘Like bunnies?’ Jessi asked, laughing.
‘Just so!’ Keerin called, putting a twitching finger up behind each ear and hopping about, wriggling his nose.
‘We lived any way we could,’ he went on, ‘until we discovered writing. From there, it wasn’t long before we had learned that some writing could hold the corelings back. What writing is that?’ he asked, cupping an ear.
‘Wards!’ everyone cried in unison.
‘Correct!’ the Jongleur congratulated with a flip. ‘With wards, we could protect ourselves from the corelings, and we practised them, getting better and better. More and more wards were discovered, until someone learned one that did more than hold the demons back. It hurt them.’ The children gasped, and Arlen, even though he had heard almost this same performance every year for as long as he could remember, found himself sucking in his breath. What he wouldn’t give to know such a ward!
‘The demons did not take well to this advancement,’ Keerin said with a grin. ‘They were used to us running and hiding, and when we turned and fought, they fought back. Hard. Thus began the First Demon War, and the second age, the Age of the Deliverer.
‘The Deliverer was a man called upon by the Creator to lead our armies, and with him to lead us, we were winning!’ He thrust his fist into the air and the children cheered. It was infectious, and Arlen tickled Jessi with glee.
‘As our magics and tactics improved,’ Keerin said, ‘humans began to live longer, and our numbers swelled. Our armies grew larger, even as the number of demons dwindled. There was hope that the corelings would be vanquished once and for all.’
The Jongleur paused then, and his face took on a serious expression. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘without warning, the demons stopped coming. Never in the history of the world had a night passed without the corelings. Now night after night went by with no sign of them, and we were baffled.’ He scratched his head in mock confusion. ‘Many believed that the demon losses in the war had been too great, and that they had given up the fight, cowering with fright in the Core.’ He huddled away from the children, hissing like a cat and shaking as if with fear. Some of the children got into the act, growling at him menacingly.
‘The Deliverer,’ Keerin said, ‘who had seen the demons fight fearlessly every night, doubted this, but as months passed without sign of the creatures, his armies began to fragment.
‘Humanity rejoiced in their victory over the corelings for years,’ Keerin went on. He picked up his lute and played a lively tune, dancing about, but then the tune turned ominous, and the Jongleur’s voice deepened once more. ‘But as the years passed without the common foe, the brotherhood of men grew strained, and then faded. For the first time, we fought against one another. As war sparked, the Deliverer was called upon by all sides to lead, but he shouted, ‘I’ll not fight ’gainst men while a single demon remains in the Core!’ He turned his back, and left the lands as armies marched and all the land fell into chaos.
‘From these great wars arose powerful nations,’ he said, turning the tune into something uplifting, ‘and mankind spread far and wide, covering the entire world. The Age of the Deliverer came to a close, and the Age of Science began.
‘The Age of Science,’ the Jongleur said, ‘was our greatest time, but nestled in that greatness was our biggest mistake. Can any here tell me what it was?’ The older children knew, but Keerin signalled them to hold back and let the young ones answer.
‘Because we forgot magic,’ Gim Cutter said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
‘Right you are!’ Keerin said, snapping his fingers. ‘We learned a great deal about how the world worked, about medicine and machines, but we forgot magic, and worse, we forgot the corelings. After three thousand years, no one believed they had ever even existed.
‘Which is why,’ he said grimly, ‘we were unprepared when they came back.
‘The demons had multiplied over the centuries, as the world forgot them. Then, three hundred years ago, they rose from the Core one night in massive numbers to take it back.
‘Whole cities were destroyed that first night, as the corelings celebrated their return. Men fought back, but even the great weapons of the Age of Science were poor defence against the demons. The Age of Science came to a close, and the Age of Destruction took hold.
‘The Second Demon War had begun.’
In his mind’s eye, Arlen saw that night, saw the cities burning as people fled in terror, only to be savaged by the waiting corelings. He saw men sacrifice themselves to buy time for their families to flee, saw women take claws meant for their children. Most of all, he saw the corelings dance, cavorting in savage glee as blood ran from their teeth and talons.
Keerin moved forward even as the children drew back in fear. ‘The war lasted for years, with people slaughtered at every turn. Without the Deliverer to lead them, they were no match for the corelings. Overnight, the great nations fell, and the accumulated knowledge of the Age of Science burned as flame demons frolicked.
‘Scholars desperately searched the wreckages of libraries for answers. The old science was no help, but they found salvation at last in stories once considered fantasy and superstition. Men began to draw clumsy symbols in the soil, preventing the corelings from approaching. The ancient wards held power still, but the shaking hands that drew them often made mistakes, and they were paid for dearly.
‘Those who survived gathered people to them, protecting them through the long nights. Those men became the first Warders, who protect us to this very day.’ The Jongleur pointed to the crowd, ‘So the next time you see a Warder, thank him, because you owe him your life.’
That was a variation on the story Arlen had never heard Warders? In Tibbet’s Brook, everyone learned warding as soon as they were old enough to draw with a stick. Many had poor aptitude for it, but Arlen couldn’t imagine anyone not taking the time to learn the basic forbiddings against against flame, rock, swamp, water, wind, and wood demons.
‘So now we stay safe within our wards,’ Keerin said, ‘letting the demons have their pleasures outside. Messengers,’ he gestured to Ragen, ‘the bravest of all men, travel from city