Demon Summoner II: Journeyman (2/3), page 14
Gustav and his master were no exception. This was the fifth day of driving from sunrise to sunset. Gustav had taken over driving the cart in the early afternoon so Martin could rest in the back. Those who traveled alone could not rely on such a luxurious division of labor and had to push themselves to their limits. Many people failed to keep up, abandoning carts, baskets, empty barrels, and broken boxes on the side of the road. Torstensson couldn’t afford to wait for anyone if he wanted to finally win this war.
The knowledge that the two armies were racing towards an inevitable final battle was an additional strain on the nerves. A tense silence had settled over the baggage train and the combat troops. They all knew this battle would decide the course of their lives. The fighters on the battlefield were not the only ones who feared death. Everyone who traveled in the shadow of the Swedish army—the families, the traders, the craftsmen, the prostitutes—knew that their lives would be forfeit if they were defeated.
Gustav couldn’t stop himself from dwelling on this fact. If they were overrun by the emperor’s troops his position as a Black Feldsher would not protect him. In their greed for loot, the mercenaries stopped at nothing. They murdered and raped as if intoxicated. That was the true face of war, and it had nothing to do with fancy generals and their card-table plans. With a sigh, Gustav stretched. Just as he was considering whether to eat some of the provisions he had stowed under the carriage seat, a cry rang out.
“Stop!” echoed through the line from front to back. It took a while for all the carts to stop.
“What's going on?” Martin peered blurry eyed through the window in the carriage wall and yawned. “Why did we stop?
“I have no idea,” said Gustav. It was getting dark, and apart from the surrounding forest and the closest wagons, he couldn’t see anything. He wished Mela were there so he could see.
His master stroked his three-day beard—there’d been no time to shave. “Something must be blocking the road to Prague.”
“Imperial troops?” Gustav asked.
“Who else would be able to stop an army this size?”
Panic and tumult began to spread. People extinguished their lanterns and torches. Nobody wanted to be an easy target for a musketeer or artillery fire.
“You know what that means for us?” Martin asked and cleared his throat.
Is he nervous? That can't be! Gustav remembered their first joint battle at Breitenfeld vividly. Martin had been the calm one, while he had constantly flinched under the thunder of the guns. “Work,” Gustav said.
“Exactly. I'll get the men together. Find a suitable place for the ritual. A small clearing or something. It's best to stay away from prying eyes.”
Before Gustav could ask how he should go about doing this in the middle of the baggage train, his master had disappeared into the labyrinth of carriages, wagons, and carts. “Well, Jolande, I guess it's just the two of us, huh?”
The mule bared its teeth, as if to say that Gustav shouldn't bother it with his problems.
It proved impossible to break free from the blockage of stopped wagons. They needed a secluded clearing, but the trees along the path were too dense. The marshy ground around the Jankova river was all ice and rock-hard frozen mud. Not ideal for drawing precise charcoal pentagrams.
The convoy began to move again. Horses neighed and calls flew back and forth over the heads of the drivers in both German and Swedish.
“Do you know what's going on?” Gustav asked the stocky driver of a beer cart who stood in front of him. His huge brewery horses were nervously waving their golden blonde tails as he approached the big wagon.
He took a long pull of the beer he was supposed to be transporting, wiped the foam off his mustache, and replied: “They’re saying that the Imperials are coming and are already attacking our rear.”
“Don't spread such nonsense,” said a rat-faced man on foot. He was carrying a huge box with several wooden rods sticking out. “Torstensson wants to bypass the Imperials so he can attack them from the side. We need to hurry so we can attack before they notice.”
“Ah, and where does a penniless grocer like you get this information from? Did you sell one of your scratchy brushes to Torstensson personally?”
They immediately started yelling at each other. Others soon got involved with their own rumors.
Before things got violent, Gustav disappeared back to the yellow cart. This wasn’t how he would find out what was really going on.
Jolande stamped her hooves, eager to move, but Gustav had an idea.
“We’ll just stay here,” he explained to the mule. “The road is the only flat and semi-dry spot in the whole area.” He guided the wagon to the side as best he could to let the others pass.
It was pitch black when they finally stood alone, the road lined with horse droppings and rubbish. Gustav lit the red lanterns. He could only hope that no one would dare attack a feldsher. He began collecting wood, lighting fires, and taking charcoal bags out of the cart to draw a huge pentagram.
“You didn't get far.” His master returned and greeted him with a questioning look.
“This is the only option that meets all your requirements, Master.” Gustav made a sweeping gesture with his arm to accompany his words.
Nose scrunched, his master inspected the area and finally nodded. “Maybe you're right. Quick, we need to hurry. Torstensson needs our help. He wants to go around the Imperials and attack from the side.”
There is a grain of truth in every rumor. Gustav had to smile.
“Our troops are in position behind the Jankova river, but a bypass is a very dangerous maneuver. The Imperials are already in position and ready to strike. If they attack, they could penetrate the Swedish columns and split the army in two. Torstensson wants to carry out his plan under cover of darkness, but we need to send him support.”
Martin had brought men with him, including Enoch. None of them spoke. They were all older and equipped with old-fashioned weapons. Battle axes, two-handed swords, war flails, morning stars, but no firearms. These soldiers were no longer in their prime and were too poor to equip themselves properly. For them, every battle could be their last.
Gustav didn't dare to ask how his master had persuaded these poor souls to come with him.
Gustav and Martin completed the pentacle while Martin whispered instructions. “I wanted to take fewer men today, but Torstensson insisted on the maximum number I can manage. We usually leave demons in the pentagram until dawn so they can't do any harm in human form, but this time he needs them at night.”
“Isn't that dangerous?”
Martin grunted. “A little. They’re much stronger at night than during the day and you have to watch them constantly, so they stay bound to their spells.” With a pounding heart, Gustav nodded. That meant that his master would be going into battle with them. “Be that as it may, what they really want is to leave their human host and be allowed to feed, so they’re relatively cooperative. Never forget that if a person dies, the demon who is bound to him also dies.”
How could I forget that? Gustav briefly saw Mela’s face.
“Prepare the ash-blood mixture and lead the men individually into the pentagram. I will summon one demon at a time, but they must stay in the charcoal circle together until all the demons are summoned.”
“I could summ—”
“No,” his master interrupted. “You will do nothing of the sort. Don't forget who is the master and who is the apprentice. Let’s begin.” He rolled up his sleeve and held out a bare arm to Gustav. “And make sure the waiting men stay far enough away from the pentacle, so they don't notice what we're doing. It's best if they wait behind the cart. Feel free to offer them some liquor to help them stay calm. The demons don't mind.”
With his new silver dagger, Gustav made a small cut in Martin's arm and caught the blood in a bowl. It was more than the few drops that Gustav had needed. Summoning more than one demon required a more generous offering. Gustav stirred the mash and used it to draw a cross on Enoch's forehead.
“The ritual begins!” Martin shouted. “Each of you will receive a blessing that will lead you through the battle unscathed. Trust me, just as Torstensson does. He owes his success to this grace.”
“When will we get the fifty talers you promised us?” a gray-bearded giant shouted.
Fear and greed. Gustav realized how Martin had gotten to the men.
“After the battle. The general vouches for this personally.” Martin nodded to Enoch, who was the only one who knew what was actually about to happen. He stepped into the pentagram without a second thought.
Martin stuck a finger into the mixture and then into his mouth.
After a few moments, the strong man began to tremble and his eyes glowed golden. “Aha, it’s about time I was summoned again. I'm thirsty for human blood. Are you volunteering back there?”
Ignoring this banter, Martin invoked the spell. “Demon, swear that you will put yourself at the service of the one who summoned you and not harm him.”
“Yes, yes, and now let me out!” The demon in human form approached the line of ash and blinked his left eye rapidly.
“Stay right there. I forbid you to move. You shall not hurt nor touch anyone. Do we understand each other, demon?”
The demon rolled his eyes but stayed still.
“This is important if you're summoning multiple demons and don't want to draw a dozen pentagrams. This promise protects the next person who will enter the pentagram with the monster. Never forget that.”
Mouth dry with excitement, Gustav nodded and drew the ash-blood cross on the next man's forehead.
An icy wind arose, tugging at the fires and blowing away scattered lumps of charcoal. Gustav had his hands full stoking the flames, closing the spell circle again and again, and preparing the men for their mission. When he came back from the furthest fire his master was dripping sweat.
“I need a drink of water, boy.”
Gustav passed the skin to him. “Are you all right?”
Four demons stared out of the spell circle and eight nervous men out of the darkness. It was a bad moment to show weakness.
“Yes,” Martin huffed. “Yes … I …”
“What's going on?” Fear iced over Gustav’s stomach at the look on Martin’s face.
Martin shook his head sadly. “The Intellectus attack weakened me. Demon wounds heal quickly, but only superficially. They can sense when you've fallen victim to them before.” He sipped more water.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I hoped it wasn’t that bad, but every time I call a new demon, I feel the Intellectus’ teeth and claws again. He still has a certain amount of power over me through the wounds.” Martin grimaced. “It would be dangerous to continue. I might lose control of everything.”
Gustav's mind raced. “What do we do? Torstensson could lose without our help.”
Martin nodded grimly.
“Let me summon the other demons, Master. It’s the only way.”
“That’s a burden I don't want to place on you. I should be able to summon a few more. Seven or eight ought to be enough. The battle hasn't really started yet.” He tried to grin, but his mouth twisted in pain.
“We both know how dangerous it would be if you lost control of even one.”
“Yes. But I also know this war could end if Torstensson beats the Imperials today.” He ground his teeth. “We can’t fail this close to the goal. He's counting on me.”
“Trust me, Master. I won't let you down.”
Distant guns thundered. Martin’s last objections crumbled.
“At the first sign of problems, you stop immediately and send them back into the earth.” He raised his finger in warning. “It’s only because you have such remarkable ability that I’m allowing this!”
Gustav cut into his own arm as he nodded.
21
A Daring Maneuver
Gustav managed to summon four demons. He was sure he could have done more, but they no longer had any men left.
Twelve pairs of golden eyes stared out of the pentagram.
“We need to reach the troops and protect them in case of an Imperial attack.” Martin said. “We don’t usually lead them personally, but at night they won’t do what we command if we aren’t with them. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to fighting.” Martin gave one more warning. “Don't pay attention to any nonsense they spout. They’ll try to confuse you. Only talk to them when you need to give orders. Are you ready to release them from the pentagram?”
“I think so.” Taking a deep breath, Gustav, who did not feel ready at all to lead a group of demons to war, steeled himself and spoke the words Martin had taught him. “Demons, I command you to fight for the Union troops. Defend their men, women, and children. Show no mercy to the enemy. Obey everything your summoner commands. If you are ready to do this, you may exit the pentacle now.”
One after another, the demon-possessed men stepped out and ran toward Gustav and his master with raised weapons and grim faces.
Gustav planted his feet. They have to listen to me. They can’t hurt me.
“So, boys,” began a man with arms as thick as tree trunks. “Time for some fun. Who can I kill?”
“No one at the moment,” the surgeon growled. “Follow us.”
Halfway through the forest one of Gustav's demons started screaming as if he was in pain.
“What's going on?” Gustav hissed.
His other three demons joined in on the screaming and moaning. They screwed up their faces, rolled their eyes, and tried to touch their noses with their tongues.
“Shh! You’ll give us away!” The more Gustav shushed them, the louder they became.
“They’re testing you,” Martin put his hand on Gustav’s shoulder. “If you die—if their noise gets you killed—they can escape their host. Command them to stop.”
“I command you to be quiet.” Gustav ordered.
The noise stopped.
“Spoilsport,” one whispered.
They caught up to the combat troops and a short Swedish officer received them.
“Welcome, feldshers. I was told to expect you.” He looked skeptically at the dozen wild-looking men with their outdated weapons. “I was promised support.”
“And you’ll get it,” Martin reassured him.
The Swede didn't look convinced but didn’t ask any further questions. “Our job is to get these guns up Chapel Hill. It’s the highest point in this area. If we can put our artillery to good use, it will give us a decisive advantage over the Imperial troops.”
“Is the hill guarded?” one of Gustav's demons asked the squad leader. His human host had curly brown hair, and in his head, Gustav had christened him Curly.
He was surprised that the monster was thinking about such a thing, but then he remembered how perceptive and educated Mela was. They were not clumsy creatures, but highly intelligent beasts—which only made them more dangerous. The question was smart and well thought out. Every bit of information about what was ahead could be essential for survival.
The officer hesitated, again looking askance at the man, but Martin bade him speak. “You don’t need to worry about disclosing too much information, you can tell them.
“The hill is held by Imperial dragoons. We are most likely superior to them in terms of men and armament and should be able to take the hill easily.”
“Nice to know,” said the demon Gustav had nicknamed Potbelly. “I don't like having an arm shot off, it hurts when it grows back.”
Confused, the Swede stared at him.
“Be quiet,” Gustav scolded. I should have forbidden them to speak, but that would have made us even more noticeable.
“Just a joke, officer,” Martin chuckled. “Humor helps them deal with the stress, you know.”
Potbelly stuck out his tongue at Gustav. He knew exactly what he had done.
The Swede arched an eyebrow but let it go. “I suppose you know what you're doing, Master Feldsher. When your men fight, we always win. We need to get going.” He barked a command in Swedish and the squad of a hundred and fifty men and twenty cannons started moving again.
Gustav struggled to keep his steps silent and his fear in check as they crept through the dark forest. He imagined an enemy lurking behind every tree, waiting to ambush them or put a bullet in his back. The demons didn't seem to care who was out there and tried to circumvent every order to remain silent. They stomped on dry branches, coughed, snorted, and ran into trees.
“Just be quiet!” Gustav hissed. “And stay close to me.”
“Your men are quite undisciplined, Master Feldsher,” the Swedish officer complained. “I know what they're capable of, but—”
The end of his sentence was lost in a piercing whistle.
A moment later something lifted Gustav off his feet and exploded.
“The left Imperial wing is attacking!”
“Take cover and position the guns!”
Gustav only picked up bits and pieces of all this. His head slammed into a tree trunk, and everything went dark.
Voices slowly pierced the dark, bringing Gustav back to consciousness.
“See, I told you he was still alive. If he weren’t, we could have taken off these ugly meat sacks and marched off on our own.”
“Dammit. Why is this one so tough? I flicked one of them on the head once, just for fun, and he dropped dead on the spot.”
Gustav probed the back of his head and found a wet, painful wound. His warm, beaver-fur hat had disappeared.
“One time someone died right in front of me just because I jumped out from behind a wall and said boo. He let out a fart and fell over dead. We laughed so hard. Wonderful times. That stuff doesn’t happen anymore. Everything’s so fast-paced now. It’s all, ‘Kill him, take that hill.’”
“They’re strange, these humans. Kind of gross, too. Look how plain and bland his face is. No horns and just those two tiny eyes.”
