Kayl Rhaine

Day Two

Kayl stopped outside the heavy wooden and paused to straighten his robes, before knocking.

“Come.”

Kayl opened the door and stepped through into a richly ornamented room. A fire flickered, spilling it’s warmth across the room and taking the autumn chill out of the air. He remembered the first time he entered this room, with its imposing paintings of previous Heads, gilded mantelpieces, and other fine furniture. Over time many pieces have changed to reflect the current Head, but the paintings always remained.

Sitting at a desk next to a closed window, Donnal Ragiel looked up from the parchment he was writing in. “Ah, Kayl please take a seat. I won’t be long.”

Kayl nodded and seated himself in a wooden chair near the fireplace and stared into the flames and absentmindly rubbed his leg.

“Still bothering you, Kayl?” said Donal softly and indicated to Kayl’s leg.

“Hmmm.” muttered Kayl looking at the direction of Donal’s outstretched arm. “Oh! No, it has healed fine. No stiffness or lingering pain. The new techniques worked well.”

“I am glad to hear that. I shall pass on your words of praise to Healer Rayn. She will be happy to hear that is has healed well.” Donal seated himself opposite Kayl. “However, I don’t think you are here to talk about old injuries.”

Kayl stared at Donal, his piercing grey eyes almost glittering in the fire light. “No, Master Ragiel. I wish to talk about the events of today.”

“Hurrumph!” snorted Donal. “You of all people should know the difficulties we face. Your last Banishing did not go well and nearly got you killed. Had it not been for Liarys you possibly would have faced the same trial as Shale had you made it out alive. At least you weren’t sloppy with your wards.”

“That’s just it Master,” answered Kayl. “Why must we execute a man for sloppy wardings. Yes, he failed to save the family who needed his help, but there is no sign of the Daemon. None! Nothing manifested during questioning; it did not even rear its head when the host was sentenced to the ikah riachyn.  If nothing else that must show that Shale is clean of any taint.”

Donal slammed his fist down onto the arm of his chair. “It shows nothing, Kayl, nothing! Nothing, but a cunning creature hiding from true death and biding its time before it attempts an escape from the confines of the flesh. You know better than this.”

Kayl looked into the fire, deep in thought. “Aye, I know how bitter the daemons can be, I know how well they can hide. I still believe that Shale’s only crime is failing in his duty to protect and to cleanse.”

“Bah!” spat Donnal. “Even if, if mind, that were the case, he would still face death for his incompetence.”

“Aye,” agreed Kayl, “but at least his death would be quick and honourable. The ikah riachyn pains the speaker greatly during the process, let alone what it is does to the poor soul bound by the daemon!.”

Kayl stood and walked over to a small table near to the wall. He picked up a stoppered bottle and poured himself a glass of the amber liquid. He proffered a glass to Donnal who waved his hand to say no. Kayl shrugged and drained the liquid in one quick pull. After filling his glass one more time, he returned to his seat in front of the fireplace.

“ Then I have but one request.”

Donnal looked him in the eyes.” If it is within my means, it shall be granted.”

Kayl returned the stare and sipped from his glass. “I wish to study Shale until his death. I wish to be there during the banishing to observe what occurs. I wish to know the truth.”

Donnal looked away first and slumped back into the plush armchair. “It would not be proper, Kayl. You know that cannot be. Whatever resides…”

“If anything.” interrupted Kayl.

Donnal glared at his former apprentice, eyes glowing in the firelight, and continued. “Whatever resides within Shale’s body will be looking for an opportunity to escape. We cannot allow it to walk across this land anymore.”

“That is true, Donnal.” replied Kayl. “We all know that the Daemon is a tricksome creature who will tear at the Veil until it is has been ripped to tatters. Each new tear allows more of their foul brethren through. If you say the beast resides within Hunter Shale then I must yield to your deeper wisdom. I request, nay, I invoke the right of ikah riachyn. A Hunter has been claimed by the Veil, a Hunter must perform the rite. I request to be that Hunter. Do not deny me this, Master Ragiel.”

Ragiel sighed, “I am sorry my apprentice, you are still not yet fully healed. Besides, it has been decided by the Conclave that another will perform the ikah riachyn. Already he is undergoing the Purification Rites and is preparing his wards for the sentencing.”

Kayl threw his glass into the fire and it shattered on the hard stone wall, the amber liquid held within flared brightly as it hit the flame. “In my heart, I think this is a mistake. If you are correct and Shale is manifesting then it must be studied. What if more daemons are already roaming the world contained in shells such as Shale? We must learn how to recognise them!”

“This’ began Donnal, “is a woeful, one of kind event. The factors that were involved with this could only effect a Hunter, a sloppy Hunter at that. Your average daemon would not cunningly hide like this without good reason. We are not just Banishing this creature back beyond the veil, we are going to tear its soul apart with the ikah and finish it for good.”

Kayl stood, shaking his head. “This is a mistake.” With that he turned and left the room, closing the door with a slam.

Day One

Kayl stood having finished drawing the last of his sealing wards around the small hovel he had been hired to clear. He stretched out his lithe frame, weathered by time; his soft leather clothing creaking quietly in the still air. Beads of sweat slowly trickled off his shaven head and rolled down his bare chest, following a course of natural imperfections on his body and the demon wrought scars left behind after other banishings.

His deep voice ebbed and flowed through the chants to prepare the way for the daemon’s banishment to begin. Kayl’s warding tattoos writhed across his body in time to the chant, flowing from one pattern to the next, each completing the vital links to protect his soul from possession. When the chant ended, a shriek rent the air from the small wooden house. He looked to his clutch of Damodre arrayed behind him, his grey eyes, like deep and dark pools, filled with the power of the wardings within.

“Ready for this?” he spoke as he reached for door.