Fiend and Magic Man Slumped against a mossy rock the Mage gazed through the fire to the large rounded stone opposite that had clearly been used by others setting camp in this area before. He looked on anxiously and called out; “I know you’re there. Stop this foolish dance and come in to the firelight where I can see you.” He waited but received no response. This made him ill at ease for the friend, or indeed fiend that he knew was hidden from view was vicious by his very nature in being. The Mage had come to know him over many decades being haunted by him. He had known his fiend to enact terrible havoc and savagery upon the lesser, limited men who dwelt together in towns and villages. He had no love of those brief beings and had himself tormented and tortured some of their number in his time. Men, however, had their uses; and his fiend made for difficult living in a world where simple men’s artifice allowed him the freedom to carry out his own mystical endeavours. The Mage also knew his fiend would delight in tearing his throat should he ever be so foolish as to fall asleep while the fiend was near. It sought out his power and appeared to covert the staff the Mage carried – though he could never understand why as it was merely his walking aid. Many was the occasion that each would come so close to their goal - to rid the world of the other – though each would surely fail. Too long it had continued; the fiend was courting him, teasing, scheming, and he had never triumphed. Nor indeed had the Mage, despite his best efforts. His tired eyes looked on through the dancing light and growing frustration and anger welled up inside him as he sit there, exhausted in the cold, damp night. “Come out, Demon!” From behind the stone, the demon crawled. It winced in the brightness of the firelight and came to sit tentatively across from his Magic Man. Its sense for self preservation kept it poised and ready to attack though it was pleased for the shield that the fire provided. It snarled and spat and made its foul noise at Magic Man as was its want, at which the man across from the fire bleated like the woolly beasts of the mortal’s fields. It never understood what Magic Man expected him to do as like all mortals his instincts were indistinct. Many moons past, the Magic Man called the Demon into this world. It knew that it existed before but not in any way that reconciled with this existence. It had always hungered for chaos and destruction and knew that it lived in this state. Coming here, it had so much to rend to nothing, so much violence and hatred to inflict; this world called out to be burnt to ash. Magic Man bleated again, more softly this time. It watched for his grip to loosen on his staff but though his eyes blinked heavily the grip remained firm and resolute. It had learnt not to trust Magic Man when he closed his eyes. It had gotten close to him more than once but Magic Man, filled with guile, had always managed to escape the glorious savagery it longed to impose upon him. Magic Man had never given it instructions. It would have done his bidding had he shown it what to do. Since it was free, it would seek out horror and chaos to revel in but was always drawn back to his Magic Man. It wanted to fight with him, to live in chaos with him, to work for him, to kill him and give him pain. Why Magic Man always chased him and tried to stop Its endeavour It could not fathom. It was angered by this and as those thoughts now rose in Its conscious It snarled at him again. It saw Magic Man jolt upright and grasp that mystical staff that he always held so close to him in a fighting stance. Magic Man was fierce and this nurtured an alien attraction in the Demon. It jumped up onto its stone, crouching low and poised to leap through the flames, snarling. AUTHORS NOTE: Written in around 2008 this germ of a story was written as part of a short creative writing course. I don't recall the brief for this story but it's one that I would like to return to at some point. Criticism and feedback both very welcome.