She glimpsed a light ahead; the lantern that hung by Bruna’s front door. She put on a last burst of speed, crying out, “Bruna! Bruna, please open your door!”
There was no reply, and the door remained shut, but the way was clear, and she dared to think she might make it.
But then an eight-foot wood demon stepped in her path.
And hope died.
The demon roared, showing rows of teeth like kitchen knives. It made Steave look puny by comparison, all thick twisted sinew covered by knobbed, barklike armor.
Leesha drew a ward in the air before her, silently praying that the Creator grant her a quick death. Tales said that demons consumed the soul as well as the body. She supposed she was about to find out.
The demon stalked toward her, closing the gap steadily, waiting to see which way she would try to run. Leesha knew she should do just that, but even had she not been paralyzed with fear, there was nowhere to run. The coreling stood between her and the only hope of succor.
There was a creak as Bruna’s front door opened, spilling more light into the yard. The demon turned as the old hag shuffled into view.
“Bruna!” Leesha cried. “Stay behind the wards! There’s a wood demon in the yard!”
“My eyes aren’t what they used to be, dearie,” Bruna replied, “but I’m not about to miss an ugly beast like that.”
She took another step forward, crossing her wards. Leesha screamed as the demon roared and launched itself toward the old woman.
Bruna stood her ground as the demon charged, dropping to all fours and moving with terrifying speed. She reached into her shawl, and pulled forth a small object, touching it to the flame of the lantern by the door. Leesha saw it catch fire.
The demon was nearly upon her when Bruna drew back her arm and threw. The object burst apart, covering the wood demon in liquid fire. The blaze lit up the night, and even from yards away, Leesha felt the flash of heat on her face.
The demon screamed, its momentum lost as it fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt in a desperate attempt to extinguish itself. The fire clung to it tenaciously, leaving the coreling thrashing and howling on the ground.
“Best come inside, Leesha,” Bruna advised as it burned, “lest you catch a chill.”
Leesha sat wrapped in one of Bruna’s shawls, staring at the steam rising off tea she had no desire to drink. The wood demon’s cries had gone on a long time before reducing to a whimper and fading away. She imagined the smoldering ruin in the yard, and thought she might retch.
Bruna sat nearby in her rocking chair, humming softly as she deftly worked a pair of knitting needles. Leesha could not understand her calm. She felt she might never be calm again.
The old Herb Gatherer had examined her wordlessly, grunting occasionally as she salved and bandaged Leesha’s wounds, few of which, it was clear, had come from her flight. She had also shown Leesha how to wad and insert clean cloth to stem the flow of blood between her legs, and warned her to change it frequently.
But now Bruna sat back as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, the clicks of her knitting and the crackle of the fire the only sounds in the room.
“What did you do to that demon?” Leesha asked, when she could stand it no longer.
“Liquid demonfire,” Bruna said. “Difficult to make. Very dangerous. But it’s the only thing I know that can stop a wood demon. Woodies are immune to normal flames, but liquid demonfire burns as hot as firespit.”
“I didn’t know anything could kill a demon,” Leesha said.
“I told you before, girl, that Herb Gatherers guard the science of the old world,” Bruna said. She grunted and spat on the floor. “A scant few of us, anyway. I may be the last to know that infernal recipe.”
“Why not share it?” Leesha said. “We could be free of the demons forever.”
Bruna cackled. “Free?” she asked. “Free to burn the village to the ground, perhaps. Free to set the woods on fire. No heat known can do more than tickle a flame demon, or give a rock demon pause. No fire can burn higher than a wind demon can soar, or set a lake or pond alight to reach a water demon.”
“But still,” Leesha pressed, “what you did tonight shows how useful it could be. You saved my life.”
Bruna nodded. “We keep the knowledge of the old world for the day it will be needed again, but that knowledge comes with a great responsibility. If the histories of the ancient wars of man tell us anything, it’s that men cannot be trusted with the secrets of fire.
“That’s why Herb Gatherers are always women,” she went on. “Men cannot hold such power without using it. I’ll sell thunder-sticks and festival crackers to Smitt, dearly, but I won’t tell him how they’re made.”
“Darsy’s a woman,” Leesha said, “but you never taught her, either.”
Bruna snorted. “Even if that cow was smart enough to mix the chemics without setting herself on fire, she’s practically a man in her thinking. I’d no sooner teach her to brew demonfire or flame powder than I would Steave.”
“They’re going to come looking for me tomorrow,” Leesha said.
Bruna pointed at Leesha’s cooling tea. “Drink,” she ordered. “We’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes.”
Leesha did as she was told, noting the sour taste of tampweed and the bitterness of skyflower as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Distantly, she was aware of dropping her cup.
Morning brought pain with it. Bruna put stiffroot in Leesha’s tea to dull the ache of her bruises and the cramps that clutched her abdomen, but the mixture played havoc with her senses. She felt as if she were floating above the cot she lay upon, and yet her limbs felt leaden.
Erny arrived not long after dawn. He burst into tears at the sight of her, kneeling by the cot and clutching her tightly. “I thought I’d lost you,” he sobbed.
Leesha reached out weakly, running her fingers through his thinning hair. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered.
“I should have stood up to your mother long ago,” he said.
“That’s undersaid,” Bruna grunted from her knitting. “No man should let his wife walk over him so.”
Erny nodded, having no retort. His face screwed up, and more tears appeared behind his spectacles.
There was a pounding at the door. Bruna looked at Erny, who went to open it.
“Is she here?” Leesha heard her mother’s voice, and the cramps doubled. She felt too weak to fight anymore. She couldn’t even find the strength to stand.
A moment later Elona appeared, Gared and Steave at her heels like a pair of hounds.
“There you are, you worthless girl!” Elona cried. “Do you know the fright you gave me, running off into the night like that? We’ve got half the village out looking for you! I should beat you within an inch of your life!”
“No one’s beating anyone, Elona,” Erny said. “If there’s blame to be had, it’s yours.”
“Shut up, Erny,” Elona said. “It’s your fault she’s so willful, coddling her all the time.”
“I won’t shut up,” Erny said, coming to face his wife.
“You will if you know what’s good for ya,” Steave warned, balling a fist.
Erny looked at him and swallowed hard. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said, but it came out as a squeak. Gared snickered.
Steave grabbed Erny by the front of his shirt, lifting him clear off the ground with one hand as he drew back his hamlike fist.
“You’re going to stop acting like a fool,” Elona told him, “and you,” she turned to Leesha, “are coming home with us this instant.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Bruna said, setting down her knitting and leaning on her stick as she rose to her feet. “The only ones leaving are you three.”