FICTION
JOSEPH ROPER
Tomislav Šilipetar, artist
THE WICKER DEMON
Rodiren held Sheera’s ankle, carefully inspecting the wound. “Vines. Green eyes, you say?”
Sheera nodded.
“The offspring of a wicker demon, no doubt,” Rodiren said. “How much sacred water did the stag offer?”
Sheera held up her waterskin. It was enough to keep them hidden for a time, but they needed more. The others fixated on Sheera’s waterskin.
Rodiren positioned himself between Sheera and the others. “I know you thirst for its energy. We’ll have more soon.”
Alcon, the huntmaster, joined Rodiren. “Will you go after the stag?”
Rodiren nodded. “I’ll need one lad to come with me.” He imagined the wicker demon he’d need to track down if the stag had already moved on. “Someone might need to return with the sacred water if the worst should happen.”
“Xander will join you,” Alcon said.
“Yes, father.” Xander bowed his head to Rodiren. He was the youngest and most slender of the young hunters, but he was also the quickest and most graceful.
Briera took the water from Sheera and handed it to Rodiren. “You’ll both need a swig for your journey.”
Rodiren took a swallow. The water soothed his throat and stomach. His body warmed and his face, fingers, and toes tingled as the energy flowed to every cell in his body. He took a deep breath and held it. When he exhaled and looked about, the colors of the forest were vibrant. He heard insects crawling beneath the blanket of earthen litter on the forest floor. It had been too long since he’d tasted sacred water.
Xander looked stunned.
Rodiren checked his long dagger at his waist, his short dagger in his boot, and the throwers on his forearms before grabbing his quiver and bow.
Sheera led them into the valley and pointed out where the vined creature had been. Rodiren inspected the brush and found imprints in the dirt that looked like a mass of worms had squirmed across. He pointed it out to Xander. “The young wicker demon left a trail here. The faint lines show its small moving and constantly working vines.” Next, he pointed to a small green blot in the dirt. “This cannot be seen without the water. Wicker demons leave small blots as they move.”
Sheera stared for a moment and shook her head. “The widdershins magic was performed around this tree.” She led them to a tree, and they carefully walked around it.
Nothing happened.
“An archway appeared last time. And the stag’s cavern of water was over there.”
“The humans have been looking for the lost child. They encroach more every day. I suspect the stag moved deeper into the forest,” Rodiren said.
“Now what do we do?” Sheera rubbed her temples. “I thought one waterskin would be enough.”
Xander placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
She smiled at him.
“Time to go, lad,” Rodiren said.
“Go? What for? The stag left,” Sheera said.
“That small wicker demon is the offspring of a much larger one. They cannot reproduce without sacred water. If we find the mother, we find her source.”
“Why must I carry all the waterskins?” Xander asked.
Rodiren inspected a squiggle in the dirt. “What do you know about wicker demons?”
“They are made of vines. Incredibly rare.”
“Are they a malevolent or benign spirit?” Rodiren followed the trail northeast.
“Malevolent?”
“They are malevolent to an extreme. The mother will seek to add us to her vines.” Rodiren stopped and looked back.
Xander gulped.
“So that’s why you have all the waterskins. Should I fall to the wicker demon, you’ll return to the tribe with enough water to empower them for many years.”
Xander nodded solemnly, then smirked. “Nothing can hurt you, old man.”
“You’re a good lad. Now. We’ll be picking up the pace. We need to find the mother before nightfall.”
“Are we close?”
“The small one that attacked Sheera wouldn’t stray too far from the mother. We must be close.”
The trail continued into an old growth portion of the forest. Rodiren focused on the forest floor where tracks and blots of liquid became more frequent. Then he heard what sounded like a sea of snakes slithering across the ground. Behind and all around were green vines. They wrapped around trees and draped across openings, rising from the ground like a fast moving tide.
Xander stared in horror.
Rodiren grabbed him and pulled him forward. “We’re being funneled to the wicker demons. When we face them, I want you to focus your arrows on the eyes of the small ones if they attack. I’ll deal with the mother. They’ll scatter if we finish her.”
Creaking vines stretched toward them. Rodiren pulled an arrow from his quiver and readied his bow while quickening his pace. The tracks on the ground looked like dozens of wicker demons had congregated.
“What do we do?” Xander pleaded.
“Calm yourself, lad. When we kill the mother, her hold on the forest will fall.” Rodiren followed the tracks through a narrow opening into what felt like a tree dome, with a thick forest canopy blocking out all sunlight, save a faint glow that filtered through the leaves. Horrid scents of moldering earth and rot hung in the air.
In the center of the tree dome waited the mother wicker demon with smaller ones ranging in size all around her. She was the size of a tree, her trunk a tangle of hardened white vines that looked like twisted bones. Skulls of her victims had grown into her trunk. Her top was a tangle of slimy green shoots that hung lank down her sides.
The wicker demon’s eyes glowed as Rodiren approached. The mother rose and one of the smallest ones squealed and ran away. The mother’s vines shot from the bottom of her trunk and caught the small one a moment later.
A scream pierced the air, forcing Rodiren and Xander to cover their ears. In an instant, the mother’s vines had engulfed the small wicker demon. It crumbled under the pressure like a melon being crushed under a horse’s hoof.
“What kind of creature kills its own young?” Xander asked.
The mother wicker demon let out another screech and the others scattered to the edge of the forest.
“Drop the water skins and prepare to move.” Rodiren pulled back an arrow and loosed it directly at the right eye of the great wicker demon.
The wicker demon slapped it down with a vine and her eyes brightened. Rodiren loaded another. He and Xander both loosed arrows. Moments later the wicker demon was descending upon them. They backed away, but the forest closed in around them.
The wicker children screamed gleefully.
His instincts told him to run, but Rodiren was frozen. The glowing eyes approached and Xander grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away, but it was no use. His feet were rooted to the spot. Thick vines slowly wrapped around Rodiren, like massive constrictors. Rodiren gripped his long dagger and severed the vine.
The wicker demon screamed, and another vine wrapped around his right arm, forcing him to drop the blade. With his free hand, he took a thrower from his forearm. A vine wrapped his entire body, leaving him in darkness.
His heart thumped against his ribcage, and sweat beaded on his scalp. He tried to focus on escaping. On staying conscious. Then he felt wiggling pressure in his ears and heard the whispers of the wicker demon. Images crept into his mind. He saw their tribal home of Zara burning to the ground. A hand reached for him through a small opening in a wall. A hand he’d held and kissed ages before men even lived on the continent. His life partner’s blue ringed hand. He couldn’t get her out. Couldn’t save the village from the wonton hate of man.
Rodiren’s lungs begged for air. The wicker demon was distracting him from escaping. And he was dying. He fought through the memories and gripped his thrower. Rodiren called for the power of the elves. Warmth traveled from his heart into his limbs. He pressed against the vines with all of his might. They creaked as the wicker demon attempted to tighten its grip. Rodiren let out a deep bellow and burst the constricting vine into clumps.
He focused on the glowing eyes as his arms freed and hurled the thrower. It flew straight into an eye and an explosion of fleshy green and splintered wood sent him to the ground. His eyes closed, and the world faded.
When Rodiren awakened, he was back home. Briera pressed her hand against his forehead.
“You can heal again,” Rodiren croaked.
“Xander brought you back.” She held up a full waterskin. “And he brought five full skins.”
Rodiren sat up. “I thought it was over for me.”
Xander knelt next to him. “Not yet, old man.”
Rodiren smiled and tousled his hair. “You’re a good lad.”
J.R. Roper is the author of The Morus Chronicles, a four-book series for middle grade readers. Awards include a Moonbeam Award for best series, a Foreword Reviews IndieFab Finalist in juvenile fiction, and others. His short work has appeared in Coffin Bell Journal, ChildGood Magazine, and Caffeinated Press. His personal essay, “Over the Edge,” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
Artist Tomislav Šilipetar was born in Zagreb. In 2014 he graduated from the Academy of Fine Arts in Zagreb in the class of Igor Rončević-Painting Department. In 2015 he became a member of HDLU. In addition to many group exhibitions, he has had a number of solo exhibitions in Croatia as well as other countries. He is the winner of the rector's award for excellence in 2013. The paintings are mostly made in acrylic, and the themes vary from solitude and isolation to human existence in the society that condemns. It favors the simple colors, and the line that goes perfectly with the total preoccupation of getting out of the 'boxes' of academy. In 2016 he gained the status of an independent artist.