The Garnet Key – Swords & Sorcery Magazine

by Jason Gallagher

in Issue 91, August 2018

It was on Semid’s eighteenth birthday that his grandmother gave him the key.

They were on the back patio. A wooden fence, turned a dull grey and warped with age, separated their little sanctuary from the other families crowded in the cluster of housing units. The high walls of the apartment buildings kept any sort of sun from reaching them, it being well past noon. On the plain metal table sat the best cake she could manage, a single candle waiting to be lit. She waved her hand over it, and a small flame sputtered to life.

He wished she wouldn’t do that. Every time she used magic, he felt the stares from strangers on the street, heard the whispers that drifted after him when he passed. And then, before he blew out the candle, she handed him the garnet, caged by crooked metal bars tied to a length of hemp string. He held it in his hands and looked at it, not really sure what to make of the gift.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” she said, the growing lines on her face crinkling into a smile.

He knew right away that he never wanted to understand. The hunk of garnet was uncut and unpolished, one end of it smoky where it mixed with other minerals. She’d probably made the wire cage herself. The bars had little kinks and knots, and he envisioned her frustrated attempts to get each of them straight. This time, her magic must have failed her. At her urging, he put it on, the fibers scratching the back of his neck.

It felt heavy laying on his chest, a burden he didn’t want to carry. Yes, his parents would have wanted him to have it, but they weren’t here anymore. He looked up at her and smiled. “It’s very pretty,” he said. He wasn’t sure what else to say.

She took his hands in hers, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything, just looked at him. It unnerved him when she did this, and she had been doing it more and more frequently. Then she sighed. “I know things have been hard. I miss them too.”

Suddenly, it came out: “I don’t want this.”

She didn’t say anything, just cut a slice of the cake and offered it to him. He took it, but he felt guilty. She didn’t cut a slice for herself. He knew she was hurt, but she didn’t understand. All that mattered to her was keeping up the traditions. The years of ridicule, the fall from wealth, and finally the accident that killed his parents — none of that would deter her.

But he’d watched it all happen since he was little. He’d endured the “demon lover” jeers from the other kids at school, and then the stares when they’d gotten old enough to know better. He knew that they weren’t necessarily “demons,” but he understood where the power of the crystals came from, and it wasn’t good.

From within her blouse she pulled her own crystal, a clear quartz. It hung on a much finer chain of silver. “I remember when I received mine. I was a little older than you, though not much.” She frowned. “Things have changed since then. I’m sorry I couldn’t find a finer chain for yours.”

Things have changed since then. That was an understatement. He felt anger building up inside him. His heart was beating faster, and it was getting harder to think clearly. He picked the stone up off his chest to look at it again, taking a deep breath. It felt like ice in his hand. He wished she’d decided not to give it to him, and he wanted to throw it clear to the far end of the earth.

“It’s a part of growing up,” she said. She set the pendant on her breast and laid her hands in her lap. She smiled in a way that was both sad and wistful. “The world moves this way and that, and all the while you have to stand for what you believe. Don’t let them shake you. Men can only reach their greatest potential when they open themselves up to the magic realm. You need that crystal to become the man you are meant to be.”

He’d had enough, and stood. “No. I’ll keep it for your sake, but magic killed Mom and Dad. And before that? Everyone hated them for it. I’ll keep it, but I won’t use it. I’m going to have a normal life, with a normal family, using my own strength.”

It was two months after that when she died. There seemed to be no reason for it, as she hadn’t been sick, and never confined to her bed. There just came a day when she didn’t wake up one morning. Her pendant was missing, though there were no signs of an intruder or struggle. The doctors with their crude examination techniques could only say that she’d died of natural causes. But what haunted the boy long after the tears were gone was how she’d known. She’d known she was going to die. Her gift had been given with the understanding that few opportunities remained to give it.

When she died, Semid was taken in by the family of one of his classmates. Though he was eighteen and had almost finished schoo, he had no way of earning money and his grandmother had left no money behind her. Despite Semid’s family history, he and Rudien had become close friends in school. Rudien’s parents had agreed to help him until he could get a stable income. After the numbness of grief had started to wear off, he actually came to enjoy living with them, eating dinners spiced with exotic herbs whose aromas drifted about the house, sleeping in a soft bed that never leaked stuffing and was draped with warm knitted blankets, playing catch with Rudien in an expansive backyard covered with lush, green grass. Visiting Rudien had always been a treat. For now, it was his everyday life. He promised himself that this was the life he’d create for himself.

He kept his key hidden under his shirt. Of course, they could still see its outline under the fabric and understood what it meant, but they never discussed it. They were gracious enough to pretend that the magical tradition that had made outcasts of his parents never existed.

It wasn’t long after that when the nightmares changed. He’d often had nightmares, visions in which he was being burned to death for his own use of magic, which he’d never actually done. Sometimes, he saw his grandmother’s corpse with unsettling clarity, lying in bed when she’d first entered into eternal sleep. Those nightmares had been clear, with all the vividness of life that sent his heart racing when he awoke.

Now they were hazy. The darkness had only the faintest red glow to it, as when there are clouds overhead but they have parted just enough to see the sunset. There was a man, or a figure like a man. He was dark, and tall, and he wore a long cloak tattered with gashes through which the red haze pulsed. In one of the dreams, he reached out to touch Semid, and his hand was a great claw, with each finger ending in a sharp point.

This night, the demon finally touched him, plucking the garnet key from his neck. It shone in the darkness, and the man laughed, a deep and sinister sound. Semid awoke.

He was breathing hard, his chest heaving. In the bed nearby, Rudien stirred.

“Mmf…okay?”

It took a moment for his breath to calm down. He was sweating, even though he felt chilled to his core. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s nothing.”

“That dream again?”

He nodded, though Rudien couldn’t have seen that in the dark. He had an empty feeling in his gut, one that told him his dream was more than a vision. When he brought his hand to his chest, the garnet wasn’t there. Though he wouldn’t have taken it off, he sat up and lifted his pillow. Nothing.

He panicked, tossing the pillow onto the floor and sifting through the sheets closest to his head. It wasn’t anywhere to be found. He took a few deep breaths, trying to reason through it. Maybe last night he’d done something different. Put it in the dresser, maybe? He got out of bed to look.

“What are you doing?” Rudien’s voice was muffled and slurred, not fully awake.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep!” he whispered, but he couldn’t hide the urgency in his voice.

Rudien pushed off his covers and got up.

“It’s that crystal, isn’t it? The one you always wear?”

“It’s not important. Go back to bed.”

Rudien didn’t respond, simply lit a lamp and started sifting through the clothes strewn around the floor. His patience was admirable for someone who’d just been woken from sleep.

Eventually they had to face the only conclusion. The garnet, the last reminder of his family, of his grandmother, was gone. Semid didn’t mention to his friend what he knew: the demon had stolen it from his sleep.

It rained the next day, a cold drizzle that soaked into your bones. Semid didn’t mention the garnet pendant, and Rudien didn’t ask. When Semid turned the wrong corner on their way to class, Rudien called, “I’ll tell them you’re sick?”

“Thanks!” Semid waved back to him.

Anxiety flexed its grip on Semid’s chest as he walked. He believed that he’d been visited in his sleep by a demon, and the only place to learn more about demons was the temple. Certainly his teachers wouldn’t indulge such a fantasy, and likely Rudien’s parents would have pretended to know nothing. The educated scorned the old religion. Well, he didn’t like it either. All his life he’d pushed that religion aside, but losing the pendant was like having his grandmother die all over again. On the way to the temple, he could see his grandmother’s still face in his mind’s eye, her gray hair lying cold and dead on her pillow. Then, her eyes flung open, and she insisted, over and over, that he must not lose his key.

Around the temple, the trees grew a little bit taller, the bushes grew a little bit fuller, and the flowers grew a little bit more vibrant and colorful. It was as if some holy power had infused the soil of the sacred site with life and vitality. The temple itself was squat, with a dark slate roof and red painted walls that glowed despite the clouds overhead. As Semid walked up to it, he felt it had a presence, that it breathed and that a heart pulsed somewhere within.

The interior of the temple consisted of a small foyer where people could leave their shoes and a large, open space for prayer and worship. In the center of that space was a small shrine: a bowl of water and a cloth to cleanse the hands and a small idol carved out of wood. The only other person in the room was a monk with his head bent in prayer. Semid cleansed his hands, then knelt a good distance from the monk for his own devotions.

Though he knelt and bent his head to his clasped hands with his eyes closed, he hoped the monk would come and disturb him. At least he would wait that way until he heard the monk stir. Images of the demon flashed through his mind again, its long black claws reaching out to carve gashes in his skin. Inside, he felt a hole had opened up in the part of his chest where the key used to rest.

Unable to bear the visions longer, he opened his eyes. The monk was standing over him. “Why do you pray, son?”

As if the monk had unlocked his mouth, Semid told him everything, from the day his grandmother had given him the pendant. The monk listened, his head still and his eyes narrowed as he seemed to concentrate on the boy’s words. When he’d finished, the monk nodded, then turned and walked away. Assuming he was meant to follow, Semid got up.

They walked to the back wall, which seemed odd, as it had nothing of interest, not even a window. The monk paused for a moment and looked back at the entrance to the sanctuary, then turned his attention back to the wall. He pushed at the wall, and a panel clicked and adjusted just a small bit backward. Semid was astonished. The monk slid the panel aside, which rattled and screeched as if on rusty wheels, then stood aside so he could enter.

The monk followed, and when he shut the panel it was pitch black inside. A flame sputtered to life on a candle in the center of the small space. The boy looked at the monk, who wasn’t standing anywhere near the candle and had no flint in his hand. The monk grinned. “That is the power of the pendant you seek. People have forgotten what the old religion can do.”

Semid wanted to ask more questions, but he was still stunned by the presence of a hidden room at the back of the temple. It was the sort of thing he’d have run home to tell grandmother about, or rather, Rudien about, but he understood there’d been a tacit agreement in coming back here that he wouldn’t speak of it to anyone.

The monk walked to the candle. There was also a small bowl and cloth there, as in the main sanctuary, and in addition to cleansing his hands, the monk also washed his face. Then he stepped aside and gestured towards the bowl. “It is necessary to cleanse oneself of sin before speaking to a demon.”

Semid didn’t ask why, just did as told. The water was icy cold even though the room was warm and suffocating.

“The pendants are keys. Those keys unlock our connection to nature, they let us work with the elements of fire, wind, water, earth.” Semid saw the monk’s pendant flash orane in the candlelight. “Your grandmother was wise to give it to you before she passed on. It is too bad she couldn’t live to help you realize its potential.” Semid didn’t mention that she’d tried to, but he wouldn’t listen to her.

The monk knelt on a reed mat facing the small altar. There was another mat opposite the monk on the other side of the altar. Semid knelt there.

“Pray, son. I will open the gate to the forgotten realm for you. Remember the dreams you had. Make the demon real in your mind now. He will come, and we will take back your key.”

Semid bent his head and closed his eyes. He found he was shaking — he didn’t want to see the demon again. He was afraid his visions in the sanctuary would come true, that this time the claws would be real, and they would bite his skin. The monk began to chant, strange syllables that hissed like snakes and growled like wolves. Though the flame had been small, it began to crackle and spit like a bonfire. Semid didn’t dare open his eyes.

In his mind’s eye, he summoned the demon with such detail that he felt goosebumps prickle on his arms. This time, a jewel hung at the demon’s chest, a bright red garnet that burned with blood red light. Though he saw no eyes in that black face, he knew the demon saw him. The thing laughed, then reached out with his great claw and touched the boy’s cheek. The point of it pierced his skin, and he felt blood trickle down to his neck.

The pain forced a gasp from his lungs, and he opened his eyes. The candle no longer blazed; it glowed even though Semid could no longer see the flame. The demon was there, looming over the monk. He started, wanted to warn the monk of the danger, but then he saw the monk’s eyes. They glowed like molten rock. The monk opened his mouth, and that too glowed with a dangerous light. He spoke, but it was no longer the monk’s voice:

“You have great courage to summon me.” The deep sound rattled the walls of the temple. “I have greatly enjoyed the gift of your key, but I have long hoped to enter the world of men. I will consume your soul, and then I will take your body as my own.”

Semid felt chilled through to his core, as if he were submerged in an icy lake. As the demon moved closer, all of his motions were mirrored in the monk, whose face was lifeless, like a doll. The monk, with his molten eyes, reached out towards him, and so did the demon. Semid wanted to run, but he couldn’t even stand up — his legs had become like water. The demon scratched his other cheek, and this time it brought the claw to its mouth, tasting his blood. The monk mirrored all this, and it sent chills down Semid’s spine to see the monk taste his fingertip with delight.

The demon reached out with both claws, cradling Semid’s head, and brought his black face close. He heard the rush of breath and felt his muscles begin to slacken as something deep down in his core was sucked out of him. He wanted to scream, but he could make no noise. Tears welled up his eyes, and he thought of his grandmother and his parents. Had they, too, fought demons like this? He’d failed, and he was overwhelmed with the unfairness of it all. How could a simple crystal be worth this price?

As he felt his last grip on his body loosening, he thought of the love his grandmother had given him, and how he’d spurned it. Now was his last chance to redeem himself. If his familty had dealt with demons for generations, surely he could fend off this one. The thought gave him warmth, brought him a little strength. The demon seemed to recoil at this, and the sucking abated.

The monk coughed and sputtered. “Take the key!” Seized by a sense of uIrgency, Semid reached out and took the key from the demon’s neck, breaking the hemp string. The demon grabbed his arm, the sharp claws cutting into his skin.

“Now take the demon inside yourself!”

“What?” But the demon was reaching for him again, its black aura threatening to cloak his eyes in darkness forever. He didn’t know what else to do, so he tightened his grip on the pendant, opened his mouth wide, and breathed in. What entered his lungs was cold like their air of the darkest night of winter, and it tasted of metal. he breathed in for longer than he ever had in his life, and instead of filling his lungs, the air flowed down his arm, making the hairs stand on end, and into the pendant. He breathed in until he had swallowed the entire demon and his his soul was safe again.

The room returned to complete darkness. He was breathing hard, his chest almost bursting with each breath, and he could hear the monk was too.

“Light…the candle,” the monk breathed.

The old religion. He waved his hand, as he’d seen his grandmother do so many times, in the direction he thought the candle was and pictured it coming to life. A small flame sparked into existence. Across from him, the monk smiled.

“I’ve never summoned a demon who’d taken a key before. That was an…interesting…experience.” He walked over and laid a firm hand on Semid’s shoulder. “You did well. Come back sometime. You’re a student of the old religion now.”

Semid managed to catch up with Rudien on his walk back from school. Rudien must have noticed his big grin, because his eyes went straight down to the boy’s chest where the garnet was proudly displayed outside his shirt.

“You found it! But should you have it out in public?” Then he noticed Semid’s cuts. “Ouch, what happened? Where was it?”

“It wasn’t in an easy place to get. Come on, I want to show you something.”

He put his arm around Rudien’s shoulder and directed him towards a patch of grass that stood still in the summer heat. He waved his hand, and a cool breeze rushed past them, bending the tips of the grass to the ground. Rudien’s eyes widened.

“I’ve got a great story to tell you.”

Jason Gallagher’s work has been seen in The Ansible. This is his first appearance in Swords & Sorcery. Learn more about Jason Gallagher at http://jwgallagherwriter.com/.