The Demon Lord And His Hero

The moment Syryn arrived home, he noticed the glaringly absent form of a gold idol from their dining table.

"Where is Goldie?" He asked Alka.

"Goldie?" The plant mage turned around with a tong in hand.

Syryn gestured to the empty spot where his monkey had been sitting not many hours ago.

"Oooh that," Alka replied. "Riha is using it as a paperweight. He said it was bad luck to keep a fertility idol in the kitchen."

"Did he need a paperweight?" Syryn asked. "Should I buy him one?" Ever since the mage had realised how much he'd neglected the selkie, Syryn had been trying to think up ideas for Riha's entertainment.

"Calm down, Syryn. I need help with the shallots if you aren't too busy right now."

The mage washed his hands and got to chopping the shallots while Alka boiled a whole chicken.

"By the way, Rowan has returned the pot to me, with the corpse plant in it. What did you tell him to convince this change of mind?" Alka asked.

Syryn had sweet-talked Rowan while the anti mage's blood was directed to the lower regions of his body. It was a dirty trick but it worked. He wasn't sure how many more times Rowan would allow it to happen so he had to use that strategy sparingly.

"I begged him and he relented," Syryn answered. "Rowan is soft to my pleadings when I pull his strings correctly."

Alka nodded. "Good job, Syryn. Now, where do we find a corrupt priest for hire?"

Both were thinking about Qairu. Alas, he was unwilling to come by the manor after what had taken place between him and Alka.

"I'll ask around," Syryn replied. "There has to be someone willing to break a law or two if paid enough for it.

"Hmmm, how about the location of the corpse tree?"

"I was planning to plant it right next to Riha's room, for maximum protection."

"Or maximum danger," Alka reminded him.

"The only danger we should be wary of is a spectre. No spectre will be born because the tree will only be allowed to attain a level of growth where it begins to produce a ghostly aura," Syryn explained. It was a safe plan if they ensured that the tree was blessed every month.

"But how will Riha sleep when he's being pressured by such an aura?"

Syryn was the fastest in the house when it came to chopping ingredients. He pushed a small hill of shallots into a bowl and handed it to Alka. "He'll get used to it after a few weeks of nightmares."

At Alka's look of disapproval, Syryn grinned. "It's just a nightmare. A few weeks of bad dreams and spiritual discomfort in exchange for the safety provided by a corpse tree. It's worth it, Alka. Think about it. Who in their right mind would want to approach Riha's room when they feel that cold and repulsive aura?"

If the corpse tree was allowed to grow further, the aura would disappear. But Syryn wasn't going to let it happen. When push came to shove, he was willing to fight the tree like the last time he and Alka faced one.

"Find the priest," Alka said with a serious look at the mage. "Then we'll decide if Riha gets to sleep next to the tree. And that too only as long as he doesn't object to it."

---

Syryn was drifting on a boat. There was a cheerful whistling tune in the air and it was at odds with the gloomy grey sky.

'Thunk' came the sound of something hitting the side of his boat. It rocked precariously and Syryn rushed to stabilise it.

Don't fall into the water. Where is Rowan?

Syryn couldn't feel any magic inside him. When he called for ice, it was silent. He called for fire, silence. Not even his demon answered. Syryn was all alone.

----

The mage was awakened by the sound of Rowan moving about in their shared room. Why did he think that it was okay for him to put Riha through the experience of having bad dreams? Two nights on the boat and Syryn was already dreading sleep. He was wrong. Nightmares could ruin your day.

"I had the dream again."

"Good morning," Rowan replied. "The whistling?"

"Yeah. I know there's something waiting inside the water for me. It can overturn the boat but it doesn't do that. Why won't it just end my misery?"

Rowan glanced at Syryn as he buttoned his shirt. "It sounds like a stalker is after you. I may have a solution but I'll have to first confirm its feasibility."

Syryn groaned into the pillow. "Why me? Couldn't it have stalked any one of you? Why pick me?"

"Good question."

"What's this solution you're thinking of?"

The anti mage slotted his divine staff against his hip. Syryn eyed the staff knowing that Rowan would obtain a powerful weapon from the temple when he married a priestess. He batted away the guilt that crept upon him. There was a time for everything including guilt.

"Rowan, letter," Syryn reminded him. "For Art."

The anti mage studied Syryn's naked form on the bed. "You exchange a lot of notes with Artemus."

"Jealous?" Syryn raised a brow.

"Why wouldn't I be? I don't get letters from you."

"We live together."

He received a smile in return. Rowan was teasing him.

"How long do you intend to play mage hunter, Rowan?" The blond was biding his time with the intermediate ranked mage hunters when he had the power to be commanding the kingdom's army.

"As long as it takes for you to remember, Syryn."

The mage blinked in surprise. "Remember? What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm not sure either," Rowan said with some helplessness.

Syryn was even more confused now.

"Are you under the effects of a seal of oath imposed upon you by some supernatural being?"

The blond's response was a tight smile. "That's a very specific enquiry. If I was under such an oath, I could not give you the correct answer."

And that sounded like a confirmation to Syryn. Rowan was under an oath. He wanted to say something to hint to Rowan but when he opened his mouth to speak, Syryn forgot what he had intended to say. Mouth hanging open, the alchemist narrowed his eyes at Rowan.

"I must be getting old," he said to the anti mage.