The two children nodded and Slate took them by the hands, guiding them back indoors and seating them around a table grown from the wood around it. He set about going to his cart and grabbing parchment, quills, and ink-wells.
All alone with the children. I wonder what lesson you have planned for today? Slate’s Passenger echoed in his mind.
Some basic survival skills, He thought back.
Like killing, ripping, and tearing prey?
No. Hunting is too advanced for them. If anything maybe I can convince Isaac to teach them how to make some simple snares - he seems the woodsman type.
Aww, you’re no fun.
Slate returned to the children who waited anxiously as he set up their work stations before sitting opposite them. "Class is in session!" he smiled and pulled out a lump of clay, slapping it onto the table. "I’m going to be teaching you how to survive in the wilderness today. So we’ll be taking a closer look at some of the edible plants in the local area, and maybe even how to fish. But first…" He held his hand above the clay and pictured in his mind the desired shape. A small flash of red radiated onto the clay and it began to warp, changing shape and texture until it was no longer clay - but instead a small sculpture of a dragon made from bronze.
"Oooh, a dragon!" Matthew exclaimed.
Slate nodded, "Yes. You saw a dragon today! So I figured you should learn a bit about them. And take notes please, this is your writing practice for the day…"
Over the next few hours Slate gave the children a discourse on dragons - quite literally everything that any person knows about dragons came flooding into his mind as he thought of the desire to know more about the topic. He slowed at spots to check the children’s handwriting and help correct mistakes, but by the time lunch came around each child had several sheaves of parchment filled with simple and slightly sloppy handwriting. He went back to the cart and grabbed some trail biscuits - hard, stale bread that didn’t ever really expire, and took the two students outside, eating as they walked. They went along the river, and Slate would stop every few minutes to point at a plant and talk about its uses in medicine, as a poison, whether it was edible or not, and its trade value. When he got to the part about harmful uses, the Passenger spoke in his head.
You should really focus more on the poisons. Think about how amazing it would be having children assassins at your disposal. No one would suspect them.
I’m not raising assassins. If anything they could maybe become apothecaries, Slate thought back.
Mary pulled on Slate’s robe after a few hours of walking along the river. "Professor, how can I do spells?"
Slate stopped and blinked a few times before looking down at Mary, who was holding a palm up and seeming to try and concentrate - just like Vythin last night. Slate stopped and took a seat in the loam. "Well, Mary, some people are born with the ability to cast spells. But they are rare. Most people who can use spells have to go to school for it. It’s like your numbers, but a lot more difficult."
"Then how come Matthew gets to shoot purple?" Mary asked.
Slate looked over at Matthew who was grinning. "I’m sorry Mary, I’m not sure I heard you right. You said he gets to shoot purple?" Slate asked.
Mary nodded and pointed a finger, making a pshew noise with her mouth. Nothing happened. Matthew raised his hand and pointed at the river, making the same pshew sound. Much to Slate’s shock a beam of bright purple streaked from the outstretched finger and impacted the current, splashing and sizzling.
He immediately went over to Matthew and put a hand on the boy’s temple, expending his heat and asking himself, where does his power come from?
The response that came to him gave him chills.
Pact, Paradise, Demonic.
The knowledge struck through him like a chord and he felt shivers down his spine.
Oh would you look at that, the boy bound himself to a Demon! How fun. His Passenger taunted.
Will you shut up? This can’t be right. Slate thought back.
You’re a god of knowledge. Doesn’t that mean that you always get the right answer?
Slate muttered, "as far as I know I do" and pulled his hand away from Matthew, who just looked at him with a smile.
Mary went up to him and pushed him slightly, "No fair! I want to do spells too!" She turned to Slate. "Please Professor? Can I do spells too?"
Slate just sat there dumbfounded. "Give me a few moments Mary, I need to think... Let’s walk back to the house."
He began walking as he thought, but as always his Passenger had something to say. Feel like teaching children how to bind their soul to an otherworldly entity?
No. I need to figure out how Matthew made this Pact. Where did he even hear about a Demon from?
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Well...I may have had something to do with it.
Slate furrowed his brow. You what?
The Passenger cackled. Don’t you know? Well, how could you - you were sleeping at the time after all.
Slate’s expression turned to anger as he thought back, You’ve been taking control when I sleep?
The Passenger sighed. I can’t take full control anymore like I used to. But, I can still make you talk in your sleep. As you said, ‘inquiring minds will inquire’.
Slate blocked out the Passenger in his thoughts as he looked down at Matthew who was making pshew noises as he fired beams of purple into the river. Mary pouted alongside him, stomping as she walked.
I need to tell Vythin when he gets back. A Demonic pact is never a good thing. Slate recalled learning about Demons in school - the servants of Umbra who resided on The Dark - one of her three afterlives in the creation above. Creatures of pure desire unbound by restraints. Powerful, but intended to maintain her realm full of those who fell victim to their deepest desires without regard for those around them. A punishment to some, a blessing to others. Pacts are made when the person has something to offer the Demon.
Slate spoke, addressing Matthew. "It’s your turn to teach your teacher. What did you do last night?"
Matthew replied, "Well, just like you said in your sleep! I poked my finger and drew a circle with a weird letter in the center. Like an ‘A’ and ‘M’ crossed."
As they neared the house Slate ushered Mary along, "Go ahead and go to your room. I need to talk with Matthew for a minute." Mary reluctantly walked ahead, still stomping in a fit.
Slate knelt down to Matthew’s level. "What happened next?"
Matthew looked down and kicked at the dirt a little bit. "Well, then a head popped up in the middle of the circle. A weird looking man with horns and blue skin. He said ‘I’m Arglenaut’ and asked if I wanted to learn how to do spells. So I said ‘yeah that sounds cool!’ And then he had me write my name just like you’ve taught me on a neat floating paper."
He did sign a Pact. Damn. "Did he ask you to give him anything?" Slate asked.
Matthew shook his head, "No. He just said that I should help people."
Slate pondered for a moment. A Demon who wants to help? That can’t be right. It must have been playing a trick. Slate stood as he heard a small scream. Mary! He ran to the house and bull-rushed the door open, his heart pounding. He saw a dull blue glow emanating from the children’s room under the door and slammed it open. Mary was kneeling on the ground, trying to pull away from a small circle of blood, the disembodied head of a blue skinned man with horns floated in the center. It turned to look at Slate, and its eyes went wide as it vanished. Mary scuttled back against the wall and began to cry.
Slate wiped the circle away with his foot and went to comfort Mary, picking her up and rocking her. "It’s okay, it’s okay...I’m here, nothing’s going to harm you." He wrapped her bleeding finger.
"Hey, why’d you send Arglenaut away?" Matthew was standing in the door behind Slate.
Slate turned around and barked at Matthew, "Your sister was scared! You did something really bad that you shouldn’t have done."
Matthew backpedaled and went into the main room as Slate redoubled his attention towards Mary, who was beginning to calm down.
She sobbed as she spoke, "I’m sorry...I just wanted to do spells also, but that thing was scary."
Slate brushed her hair and sat down on the bed with her. "It’s okay, I got rid of it. It’s not going to scare you anymore. Why don’t you lay down and take a nap." He put her on the bed and pulled up the blankets, singing a small lullaby he remembered as a child as he did so;
"When the seas are rocking and the tide grows long,
When the waves and boulders are covered in fog,
When your day is done and the ships come home,
I’ll find you there no more to roam..."
Mary fell asleep after a few minutes as Slate continued the lullaby, having exhausted herself with the field trip and emotional turmoil. Slate silently made his way out of the room and shut the door behind him. Matthew was sitting at the big table and had pulled out a few toys that Slate had made days prior, playing but obviously upset from being yelled at.
I can’t risk them both trying to contact an otherworldly creature. Hmm...knowledge can be given, can it not? And knowledge then could be taken away.
Slate focused himself and centered his mind, focusing on the singular task as he felt the heat swell in his chest. Forget everything you know about Arglenaut and summoning circles. He focused those thoughts as he pictured Matthew and Mary. The red heat flashed from his body and he gripped the wall for support as he felt weak for a moment. Now to test if it worked.
He walked up to Matthew and sat down. "Matthew, do you mind doing a little more writing today?" Matthew nodded his head. Slate continued, "I want you to write down every name that starts with the letter ‘A’ that you can think of." Slate pulled out some parchment and a quill as Matthew put aside his toys and set to the task. After several minutes relief washed over Slate as he did not see any name even resembling Arglenaut. I’ll assume it worked then. He smiled at Matthew, "Excellent work! Tell me, which name would be the best name for a pet?"
Matthew thought and looked up at the ceiling. "I like Alfy."
Slate smiled. "Okay then. I'll make you a pet."
Matthew perked up immediately and jumped off his seat. "I want a rabbit! No, wait, a kitty!"
Slate patted him on the head and chuckled, "But you have to promise me something. No more coming into my room when I’m sleeping unless there’s a big emergency like the house is on fire. Deal?"
Matthew nodded emphatically, "Deal!"
Slate left Matthew to play with his toys as the hours passed. He stepped outside and foraged for plants, making a few fishing lines to catch some meat to supplement dinner. Whilst in the mud next to the river he created a small pile and shaped it into the form of a cat. He held a hand over it and channeled his heat as the clay hardened and shifted. The small construct came to life and began to walk and swish its tail. "Alright now, you're going to be a good companion to the kids and keep an eye on them for me." The clay cat nodded and nuzzled up against Slate as he went back to the small house. Slate presented the cat much to the excitement of both of the children.
Eventually the three sat down to eat then retired for the evening, Slate ensuring to lock his door with the small cross-bar that was above the frame after tucking the children and their new construct-pet to sleep.
Hey Slate, do you mind if we talk?
Slate disrobed and laid down in bed, pulling up the covers as he leaned back and rested his head in his hands. I suppose we can talk…briefly.
I made you sleep-talk last night to teach the kid Demonic summoning. I didn’t expect that specific Demon to answer. I know Arglenaut. His father is the Demon Prince of Greed. Really nice guy, we went to school together.
Slate frowned, I don’t recall ever making a Pact with you. Also, Demons go to school?
The Passenger chuckled. No, we never made a Pact. As for school, we have to learn somehow, don’t we?
Slate chuckled as he stared at the ceiling, following the flowing patterns of wood as it swirled down the wall. Right, the voice in my head that isn’t my own, and maimed a man, in addition to burning down the house as a child; is now telling me that he knows the Demon that one of my students made a pact with. Why should I believe anything you say?
The Passenger laughed, Trust me, or don’t trust me. I’m bound to you. And you’re stuck with me until the day you die.
I’m going to get rid of you, one day.
I’d like to see you try, the Passenger said with a smug arrogance... but behind that arrogance there was a sense of desperation…or fear.
Slate rolled over and shut out the voice, focusing on the pattern in the wooden wall until he drifted to sleep.