“Heresy!”  

Kahl shook his head in his seat amongst the other Cabal members. Already this Sitting deteriorated into little more than a shouting match as the Arms couldn’t reach consensus. He looked up as Kharon Regiel began speaking again, thin tendrils of spittle flew across the lecturn.

“These are lies and treasonous words spoken in front of a full Conclave! Little more than baseless accusations by those who are so obviously unaware of the truth!”

A snort echoed across the floor and Kharon’s head snapped around to the source of the sound.

“You have something to add Sitter Hope?”

Kahl looked across to the Sitter. Devon Hope, Shoulder of the Arm of Compassion was a stout man, but known for always speaking the truth. Kahl edged forward a little. This should be interesting, he thought to himself.

Devon stood from his wooden seat and straightened the creases out of his robes, sky blue and edged in gold, before stepping out into the small amphitheatre in front of Kharon.

“These words have the sound of prophesy, more than anything.” He didn’t speak loudly, yet his voice carried to all parts of the Hall. “He that holds the daemon is the daemon but sunders darkness into light. That is the words spoken by the beast.”

Kharon looked ready to explode, a vein throbbing on his forehead, but Devon raised a hand.

“We have all fought the daemon, every one of us here has lost something to those beasts, and yet here is a creature that in its death throes speaks to us in our own tongue, speaks words that seem to defy all logic and seem like lies to us.” Hope walked over to chained and bloody figure before the lectern and gestured, “But what would Hunter Shale gain from this. What motivation would he have to bring these words to us, if not for the protection of mankind? Why not examine these words in greater depth?”

Kharon could hold back no longer, “Because we all know that these fiends cannot speak our tongue, and those who have are little more than flesh shells that hold the smouldering beast within. His damodre should have taken his life there and then. By all accounts the Words of Banishment were spoken wrong, Shale failed in his containment wardings and innocents died before the creature could be banished. He failed in his duty!”

Hope nodded and continued in his softly spoken voice. “Aye we can all agree that Hunter Shale failed in his duty to stop the beast. Aye, he was the only figure to emerge from the depths of the infested house where nothing more lived and he shouldn’t have. I still argue these words feel like prophesy and must be studied in more depth. I say turn Shale over to the Arm of Truth and let them get to the heart of the matter.”

“Fool!” snapped Kharon. “Where do you think Shale has been these last few days? In solitude? Meditating on his actions?”

Devon raised his hands in supplication.

“No!” exclaimed Regiel. “He has been questioned at length about that day and the days thereafter, and all he speaks are the same few damning words. I call for a consensus. Hunter Shale must undergo the Banishment, and then executed. What say you, Conclave?

Kharon had pointed at the huddled figure in front of him but stared intently at the gathered group seated around the amphitheatre. The dull drone immediately reached his ears immediately as the other members turned to one another to discuss the talk of the morning. Only one figure stared back, Kharon’s most talented protégé Kahl Rhiane. He looked down, deep in thought and slowly stood before clearing his throat. It took a few moments for the others to realise what was happening and quiet down.

“The Cabal recognises Hunter Rhaine.” Said Kharon

Kahl nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement, “Master Kharon, Honoured members of the Cabal, I have but one question to ask before you decide to cast your vote. You were all Hunters once, but have any of you seen a Daemon not manifest during questioning, during the purification rites, during torture? I haven’t, and this leads me to question why.”

Kharon stood with his mouth half open. His own apprentice was siding with Hope on this matter. Kharon glanced in Hope’s direction and could see him nodding in agreement as were others in the Conclave. This had to stop.

“Hunter Rhaine,” said Kharon smoothly stopping Kahl in his speech. “We all know that the Daemon is foul beast constantly tearing at the Veil attempting to manifest in our world. We all know that once here they do not give up willingly. The evidence presented here before this sitting is overwhelming. True, there are no visual signs of manifestation in Hunter Shale, but the creature lingers deep within his breast and hides now in the hope that we stay our hand. We cannot allow that risk to walk freely among our fellow man. What would become of us if we fail in our duty to keep the Veil complete? Thralls to the beasts that dwell beyond? Daemons ourselves? We cannot hold in our duty because we might be wrong. The price of failure is too high.”

Kharon stared intently at Kahl as he spoke these final sentences. Kahl nodded his acquiescence and sat back down. “Let us reach a consensus.”

Throughout the chambers members of the Conclave reached their decision and made consensus. Kharon was not surprised to see that Kahl had abstained, but was happy that a decision had been reached.

“At the dawning light in three days time, I sentence Hunter Shale to undergo the ikah riachyn and then be flayed and dismembered afterwards. Each piece of his body will be purified before being cast into the Flame of the Cabal to remove all trace of the foulness within. So the Conclave has spoken, so its will shall be done.”  

Shale slumped further into himself at the end of the pronouncement, little more than a hollow shell of the man he once was. Kharon spared him little more than a glance, but indicated to the damodre nearby to take him away. Many of the Cabal had already begun to exit the central hall, but Kharon noticed that his apprentice still remained seated as if deep in thought. He pursed his lips in frustration before heading back to his personal rooms.

###

Kahl stopped outside the heavy wooden and paused to straighten his robes, before knocking.

“Come.”

Kahl opened the door and stepped through into a richly ornamented room. A fire flickered, spilling it’s warmth across the room and taking the autumn chill out of the air. He remembered the first time he entered this room, with its imposing paintings of previous Heads, gilded mantelpieces, and other fine furniture. Over time many pieces have changed to reflect the current Head, but the paintings always remained.

Sitting at a deck next to a closed window, Kharon looked up from the parchment he was writing in. “Ah, Kahl please take a seat. I won’t be long.”

Kahl nodded and seated himself in a wooden chair near the fireplace and stared into the flames and absentmindly rubbed his leg.

“Still bothering you?” said Donal softly and indicated to Kahl’s leg.

“Hmmm.” muttered Kahl looking at the direction of Donal’s outstretched arm. “Oh! No, it has healed fine. No stiffness or lingering pain. The new techniques worked well.”

 

“I am glad to hear that. I shall pass on your words of praise to Healer Rayn. She will be happy to hear that all worked fine.” Donal seated himself opposite Kahl. “However, I don’t think you are here to talk about old injuries.

Kahl stared at Donal, his piercing grey eyes almost glittering in the fire light. “No, Master Kharon. I wish to talk about the events of today.”

“Hurrumph!” snorted Donal. “You of all people should know the difficulties we face. Your last Banishing did not go well and nearly got you killed. Had it not been for Liarys you possibly would have faced the same trial as Shale had you made it out alive. At least you weren’t sloppy with your wards.”

“That’s just it Master,” Answered Kahl. “Why must we execute a man for sloppy wardings? Yes, he failed to save the family who needed his help, but there is no sign of the Daemon. Nothing manifested during questioning. It did not even rear its head when the host was sentenced to the ikah riachyn and death. Surely, if nothing else that must show that Shale is clean of any taint.”

Kharon slammed his fist down onto the arm of his chair. “It shows nothing, Kahl, nothing! Nothing, but a cunning creature hiding from true death and biding its time before it attempts an escape from the confines of the flesh. You know better than this.”

Kahl looked into the fire, deep in thought. “Aye, I know how bitter the daemons can be, I know how well they can hide. I still believe that Shale’s only crime is failing in his duty to protect and to cleanse.”

“Bah!” spat Kharon. “Even if, if mind, that were the case, he would still face death for his incompetence.”

“Aye,’ agreed Kahl, “but at least his death would be quick and honourable. The Ikah Riachyn is reserved for the banishing and pains the speaker greatly during the process, let alone the other proclamations that are to happen.”

Kahl stood and walked over to a small table near to the wall. He picked up a stoppered bottle and poured himself a glass of the amber liquid. He proffered a glass to Kharon who waved his hand to say no. Kahl shrugged and drained the liquid in one quick pull. After filling his glass one more time, he returned to his seat in front of the fireplace.

“I ask for one request.” Murmered Kahl.

Kharon looked him in the eyes.” If it is within my means, it shall be granted.”

Kahl returned the stare and sipped from his glass. “I wish to study Shale until his death. I wish to be there during the banishing to observe what occurs. I wish to know the truth.”

Kharon looked away first and slumped back into the plush armchair. “It would not be proper, Kahl. You know that cannot be. Whatever resides…”

“If anything.” interrupted Kahl.  

Kharon glared at his former apprentice, eyes glowing in the firelight, and continued. “Whatever resides within Shale’s body will be looking for an opportunity to escape. We cannot allow it to walk across this land anymore.”

“That is true, Kharon.” replied Kahl.  “We all know that the Daemon is a tricksome creature who will tear at the Veil until it is has been ripped into tatters. Each new tear allows more of their foul brethren through. If you say the beast resides within Hunter Shale, I must yield to your deeper wisdom. I request, nay, I invoke the right of Ikah Riachyn. A Hunter has been claimed by the Veil, a Hunter must perform the rite. I request to be that Hunter. Do not deny me this, Master Kharon.”

Kharon sighed, “I am sorry my apprentice, you are still not yet fully healed. Besides, it has been decided by the Conclave that another will perform the Ikah Riachyn. Already he is undergoing the Purification Rites and is preparing his wards for the sentencing.”

Kahl threw his glass into the fire and it shattered on the hard stone wall, the amber liquid held within flared brightly as it hit the flame. “In my heart, I think this is a mistake. If you are correct and Shale is Manifesting, it must be studied. What if more daemons are already roaming the world contained in shells such as Shale? We must learn how to recognise them.”

“This,’ began Kharon, “is a woeful, one of kind event. The factors that were involved with this could only effect a Hunter, a sloppy Hunter at that. Your average daemon would not cunningly hide like this without good reason. We are not just Banishing this creature back beyond the veil, we are going to tear its soul apart with the ikah and finish it for good.”

Kahl stood, shaking his head. “This is a mistake.” With that he turned and left the room, closing the door with a slam.

Kharon’s damodred poked her head in to see if all was okay, but he merely waved her off and stared deep into the flame.

###

Deep in the bowels of the Conclave fortress, the man named Shale looked at the rough hewn ceiling. Far above he could feel raw, red hate emanating; a hatred that no human could possess.

That was his gift, the gift he had hidden from the Cabal for many years. He had a talent for seeking out the Daemon-Hosts; to feel their hatred for humanity and to remove it before it was able to manifest.

This time all went wrong, the creature he went to Banish was prepared for him. Shale could barely remember the trap being sprung, the death cries of his damodre and the innocents he was sent to protect. He could only remember the words that were burned into his skull as the creature plunged its clawed talons into his head.

By rights, he should never have survived. By the Maker, he should have died in that home with all the rest. But by some grace he survived and delivered the message that plagued him for the last few weeks. Finally, it would be gone and he could rest.

But the hate would remain.