Inner Demons

Prologue

Dass ich es vorziehe mit Menschen zu leben

anstatt sie umzubringen

ist der einzige Grund, weshalb Ihr noch am Leben seid.

Gott will es!

Heimataerde — «Gott will es»*

The cold night wind rustled the tattered flags scattered across the city.

Shutters banged somewhere. The city seemed deserted. Well, now it was dead.

Four riders dismounted and let their horses run free, for even these stupid animals probably couldn't bear the sight of hundreds of dead townspeople lying in the streets, alleys, and on the steps of their own homes. Bodies were everywhere. Some were impaled on flagpoles or stone ornaments now hanging from the walls of buildings. Terror was frozen in the faces of the dead.

The twilight sky was slowly darkening; there was no one left to light torches, but it wasn't necessary - the western part of the city had caught fire from an abandoned hearth; the eastern part was sinking into the night. Somewhere a frightened dog howled, now a stray. Its dead owner probably lay nearby, perhaps never having had the chance to grow up.

"No one was spared, these creatures," said a middle-aged man in long red robes, belted with rough hemp rope, as he emerged from around a corner. "Not even the children. Truly beasts."

He spat angrily, surveying the work ahead of him and his men. Some of the dead would be buried in mass graves; others would likely be burned to prevent their bodies from decomposing and filling the air with a stench so foul it would make the gravediggers faint.

"How many were there?" one of the four newcomers asked unexpectedly, his tone indifferent as he pushed back his hood. He looked little more than thirty, but there were already gray streaks in his dark hair.

"I'd say one," the Inquisitor shrugged and grinned. "A creature also slaughtered the neighboring village. It seems we're dealing with the same beast.»

"I hope you understand that a mistake will be costly?" the second of the quartet said indignantly.

"More costly than three destroyed cities and their surrounding villages? I doubt it. God Almighty will punish that monster."

"No doubt, but instead of waiting for your god's benevolence, you keep sending us letters! You summoned us, but now you act as if we don't belong here!"

"Aden, be quiet. These people are very vengeful. You don't want to find yourself on the rack by mistake in a few days, do you?" the third traveler smiled broadly.

"Go to hell!" the second man shouted angrily, pulling off his hood. A hideous scar marred his face, resembling the mark of an attack by a wild beast. Half of his left ear was missing. "We must do something about this creature; it's clearly gone mad with bloodlust! Consuming the souls of sinners is one thing-they brought that on themselves-but a rabid wolf roaming through villages and slaughtering your entire flock? That's too much. Why do you look at me like that? Do you not care about them?"

The first man sighed and ruffled his companion's curly, slightly disheveled hair.

"Aden, you are too young. Mark my words, if you go after every demon you meet, you won't live long."

The young man wanted to argue, but didn't get the chance.

"Teacher! Teacher!"

A very young boy in simple dark novice robes ran toward them, having lost his headgear somewhere, leaving only a tonsure on his head. The novice almost tripped over a severed corpse, slipping in the blood and falling into a crimson puddle, but he quickly got up, not noticing that he was now covered in blood from head to toe.

"Teacher! It's him!"

The Inquisitor grimaced, but not at the sight - the boy had already exhausted his patience.

"Who?" he asked indulgently.

"It's the king himself!" The boy hobbled over to the group and handed them a broken sword that seemed to belong to one of the city guards. It had black stains on it. "I checked everything several times! And I found traces of several smaller creatures, but they probably just helped."

He wrung his hands and shifted nervously from foot to foot, realizing that he was behaving inappropriately and that he was in for a good scolding from the monks once this was over.

"Adan, quiet. These people are quite vindictive; you don't want to find yourself 'accidentally' on the rack in a few days, do you?" The third traveler smiled broadly.

"Go to hell!" The second shouted in frustration, pulling back his hood. A hideous scar marred his face, like the aftermath of a wild animal attack. Half of his left ear was missing. "We must do something about this beast! It's clearly gone mad with bloodlust! Devouring the souls of sinners is one thing, that's their fault, but a rabid wolf tearing through villages and slaughtering your entire flock, that's too much. Why are you all staring at me? Do you not care about them?"

The first sighed and ruffled his companion's disheveled, slightly curly hair.

"Adan, you are too young. Mark my words, if you keep attacking every demon you meet, you won't live long."

The young man opened his mouth to argue, but didn't get the chance.

"Teacher! Teacher!"

A very young boy in the simple dark robes of a novice ran toward them, having lost his headgear somewhere, leaving only his cowl. He almost tripped over the severed body of some poor soul, slipping in the blood and falling into a crimson puddle, but he jumped up, seemingly unaware that he was now covered in blood from head to toe.

"Teacher! It's him!"

The Inquisitor grimaced, not at the sight, but as if the boy had already exhausted his patience.

"Who?" he asked indulgently.

"The king himself!" The boy stumbled toward them, holding up a fragment of a sword that seemed to belong to one of the city guards. Black stains were visible on it. "I have examined it several times! And I found traces of several smaller creatures, but they probably helped."