I woke up by the oasis and peered into the water to see the figure of teenage boy. This is the form I had taken? Pathetic. I had red dye the color of blood streaked through my white hair and the demonic tattoos of the Scortha covering my body. On second thought, I couldn't have picked a better boy to be in charge of.
Memories of his flooded and blended with my own and I felt slightly disoriented making me grab my head. I had been the first Scortha and had died over a hundred years ago, but as a full-blooded demon. We lived in limbo until we could be called forth to aid a another demon and gain control for a time.
"Jaspen?"
The voice seemed familiar to me, but not really. Who was this Jaspen? I turned to face the approaching figure.
"Who?" I asked.
"My name is Demni, Jaspen."
I looked at him sternly. "I am Scortha Iblis."
The man looked at me, surprised. I knew it wasn't out of surprise that there was someone possessing the boy, but my name.
"I am part of the king's royal guard and trained the boy you now control. We are leaving for war now. The king has given you one of his stallions."
Why would the king take a liking to this Raksheesh- to this Jaspen kid? Memories flooded me about how he was a close friend of the prince.
I nodded. "I am coming."
Demni threw me a battle ace "The boy's adoptive father made this for him."
I caught it and ran my hand over the fine craftsmanship.
"Iblis, the night terror, or not we need to move out."
Perhaps I could be friends with this Demni fellow after all. He seemed like the kind of man I would befriend when I was alive. I fell into step beside him.
"Who is his real father?" I asked.
"I do not know."
"Why the secrecy?"
"The man feels it won't end well if he told the boy and I respect him enough not to press the matter."
"I respect that."
*****
By twilight we came to the camp and I was shown to the Scortha part of camp. I was tired and I found my cot easily falling asleep before dinner was called.
"Psst," came a whisper later on. "Psst... Jaspen. Where's Jaspen?"
I sat up and sighed. Why must my host have such an uncommon Raksheesh name? I got up and went to the tent door to see a slim muscled boy around my host's age.
"Who ... who are you?" he asked surprised. "You look like my friend, but some of you has changed."
"My host's name is your friend, my prince, but my name is Iblis and I will have control of your friend till I either die or this war is over."
The prince stumbled back shocked.
"With all due respect, my prince, you shouldn't be here I don't think. Scortha rules say that I am not supposed to have contact with non-Scortha influences."
The prince looked white as a sheet.
"You were known as Iblis the night terror... My father told stories about you. Why would you choose Jaspen?"
I smirked. "I was drawn to him. We have much of the same story other than I was a greater demon and not a Raksheesh."
I had been ruthless in my glory days, sometimes pulling stupid stunts with my fellow Scortha at night by sneaking into the enemy camp and cutting their soldiers down where they lay. I had died doing one of these stupid stunts when a soldier I thought was dead stabbed me through the heart with his last dying breath.
"As the prince, Iblis, I ask that you do not do anything too reckless with my friend's body. If he dies, I will have the shaman make sure you are trapped in limbo with no chance of ever walking in another person's body ever. Am I understood?"
I smirked bowing to my prince. "Crystal clear, your highness."
With that he turned on his heel and left. The prince's threats didn't scare me, but he did gain my respect. He had a loyal heart for his friend that was only a Raksheesh. Times were changing. When I had lived, things had been different. Slaves were above Raksheesh and were seen as a bad omen and taste to their parents. Royalty didn't befriend them, but this prince was different.