When Demons Walk Read Free Page A

gold-laden vessel had washed up on the desolate weed-coveredsands, and the king of Southwood had used the precious metal to form the great doors of the Castle.
    Stories were told of the dead who walked the beach, searching for their loved ones to the creaking of the drying dock-timbers. There was enough truth in that to keep the beach clear of all but the most desperate slum-scavenger at night. By the light of day, the sands of Spirit Beach were fair hunting for all who were willing to fight with their fellow thugs for what treasures the sea had left behind.
    When the western docks had been in use, the giant bell on the cliffs rang out as the waters began to recede, and the few ships that had chosen to race the tide would unfurl their sails and their masters would hope that they hadn’t waited too long and stranded themselves on the land where they would be destroyed by the abnormally swift, crushing waves of the ocean that reclaimed the empty bay within moments of the turning tide.
    Some claimed it was magic that caused the drastic tides that depleted a bay almost four fathoms deep, but the Old Man had explained it differently. Something about the converging of deep sea currents and the great sea wall that protected this bay of Landsend, as she recalled.
    It had been a long time since the bell had been rung, as the Cybellian overlords preferred the shoaly bay on the eastern side of the peninsula upon which Landsend was built. They were uncomfortable with the dangers of the Spirit Tide, and Purgatory, once a small blight in the center of the city, had quickly spread its leprous mantle to encompass the abandoned western docks. Several years earlier the heavy bell had fallen from its mounting and landed in the sea to be swallowed by the shifting ocean sands, but the frame on which it had hung was still standing.
    Near the docks, higher cliff peaks rose in the air, looking far larger than they did during normal tides. Sham made her way through the rocks of the cliffs, finally lying down on her belly to reach the undercut ledge below.
    From the ledge, safely hidden from view, hung a rotted ladder that owed its continued existence more to her magic than any integrity left in the wood and rope. She used theladder to climb most of the way down the slime-coated cliffs. At the last rung she hung by her arms and dropped two body-lengths to the soft sands below.
    Warily she scanned the beaches for the predators that sometimes hunted here, though it was dark enough in the shadow of the cliffs that she wouldn’t be able to see anything until it was upon her anyway. She had never discovered anything hunting here herself, but she’d come upon places where something had fed often enough that she remained cautious.
    Pulling the shadows more tightly around her, she found the entrance to the cave system that riddled the ancient limestone cliffs, carved by the countless years of water pounding at the wall.
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    â€œW HAT IS THIS ?” she asked, stretching to place her fingers on the edges of the runes that marked one of the openings.
    Maur, his chestnut hair tinged with grey at his temples, smiled down at her. “Wards, child. To keep people out.”
    She thought about it for a moment. “They’re not complete, are they?”
    Pleased, the mage crouched beside her. “How would you finish them?”
    She frowned at the patterns before her and traced a rune below the last one. As she finished, magic flared and she snatched her fingers back. The opening solidified until she faced a wall where a cave had been.
    â€œGood girl,” Maur laughed. Standing up, he ruffled her hair with one hand as he unworked the wardings with another.
    â€œWho put them there, Master?” she asked.
    â€œNow that’s a story,” he said, leading the way into the tunnel. “I first found this cave by chance when I was a young man. Have you ever heard the stories of Golden Jo?”
    She tilted her head and grinned.