Daemon: The world beneath the cities

Essay by superficialHigh School, 12th grade October 2006

download word file, 3 pages 3.0

Downloaded 607 times

Jacque finally stopped his trudged walk, no not really, he had more so been jerked to a stop by the hand that had grabbed his collar and yanked it backwards. Was there nothing but hostile bones in these people's forms? Some how he doubted the likes of himself warranted any kindness from the inhabitants of Daemon. The initial force had made him trip and fall, his hands planting firmly on what now seemed to feel like slate. Between the dark nature of the rock and the lack of light in general he could not tell how ever, why he even thought about these things at these times was a humorous mystery to him.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see his captor return from a low bow. It dawned on him that he was in the room he had been taken to many times before. From the man's behavior Jacque knew she was standing right in front of him, unless of course the man just liked bowing for the sake of it.

Jacque doubted he could be as lucky. He kept in his position on the ground, fearing that if he stood back up now she or the man behind him would see it as an insult and be enticed to smack him back down or cut him down, Jacque rather liked having the use of his extremities. His knees began to ache horribly of the hard floor, the silence lead him to wonder what was happening. Was she waiting for him, was he supposed to be waiting for her? Or was she simply playing with him. The answer came while he was thinking in a thick crisp tone.

"Stand Jacque unless you don't like your legs in which case I would be happy to remove them for you." She said.

Jacque stood as quickly as his aching joints would let him. She meant what she had said he thought as he wiggled his left toes, of which there were only three.

He looked at her now, the same woman he had looked upon the times before. All he knew of her was that she was a Daemon of some but not great standing and that in relation to him she was a messenger. She neither ordered him kidnapped or ordered him here today; she met him and passed on the message from who ever had. It seemed all too strange to Jacque that he knew nothing of the people who had kidnapped him and who he now in a sense served.

"A service is requested of you Jacque, do you accept?" she said in a bored tone. Jacque fought to keep the smile from his face. The formality, left over from previous centuries no doubt, was just too much at a time like this, something that belonged in a surreal dream perhaps. He had no choice of course.

"Yes." He said his voice breaking as the fear began to seep back into him. What did they want of him? All he had ever had to do was keep an ear out for any attacks anyone was planning on Daemon or something of a similar worry. That's all any of the captured had to do, and most of them were never called down again unless they heard something which was once in every ten years if they were unlucky.

"There is a girl you know, the name of Oreena. Get her." The sentence was short and the first part had left Jacque too confused to have really taken in the second of the message. He stood there dumb founded for a few moments, Daemons never mixed with Anarchs if they could afford it, and it went against their nature. Before he was thinking straight he asked.

"But... what do you want with Oreena?" he flinched as he asked. It was an unspoken rule that you never asked, you were told. From behind him a shattering blow came from something metal, perhaps the hilt of a dagger. Jacque was out before he even hit the ground. When he woke he was being mercilessly dragged up the stairs again by the same man who had taken him down with one objective, to get Oreena. He reflected on whether he should ask what to do with her once he had 'gotten' her.