Jax Quelmsworth
By Derek K, age 11
Sabrina checked her quarterstaff grips one last time and held it in her standard attack pose. I checked the house floor plan one last time. She glanced at me. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
She held a hand on a hilt of one of her throwing knives.
“You got your flares?”
“Jax, of course I have my flares. I’d sooner go outside without pants than forget the flares.”
“Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”
The house in front of us looked like a place where demons would reside. The whole place was black. The shutters looked like cat toys shredded and bent. Part of the roof had caved in. Bricks were cracked and jagged. Ivy covered the chimney. The top of the chimney had been blasted apart. And it was night.
I grabbed my sword and kicked open the door.
A demon stood, leering at me. Imagine a goat with red eyes and a forked tongue. Oh, and they spit acid too.
I swung my silver steel alloy sword and cut through the demon. The leering thing spit a stream of the acid they’re famous for. The door frame melted, and Sabrina jumped in.
Right as the door frame collapsed, Sab made it. Our exit didn’t.
Sabrina said a word not suitable for me to repeat here and then proceeded to state the obvious.
Before I could reply, she said, “And, Jax Quelmsworth, keep that snarky remark shut away.”
I whistled and then lit the lantern.
Sab said, “Hold still.”
I heard a thunk, and a dead demon fell in front.
“Little beasts are worse than rats,” said Sabrina.
I grabbed a bottle of dark liquid. “This will give the leery scamps something to think about.”
I cracked the top of the bottle, pulled up the stick inside, and threw it. The stick’s friction caused a spark. And this stuff is highly flammable.
The bottle exploded, sending bits of flame everywhere. The old table inside blew apart, sending old wood into the gloom. Spider webs caught on fire, and an old armchair burst into flame. The room had been a sitting room before. The fireplace mantel collapsed, bringing down a box and a small painting. A larger painting was ablaze and a fine couch on which the likes of noblewoman would have sat on would now have set their dresses on fire.
A plate of old, stale pastries was aflame. The demons were screeching as they each kicked the bucket.
I ran into the room and ran for the kitchen, located in back of the house. Several demons jumped at me, screaming with hatred. I kicked the flaming door down, ran in, grabbed an old bottle of wine, spun around, and slammed it into a demon’s face.
My sword bit into demon after demon.
A loud shriek sounded, and I ran for the threshold, and found Sabrina doubled over. “Little monster bit me!”
I started swinging, but my arm was tired. The demons understood this; trying to pull a fast one n us.
I dropped my defense and a demon jumped.
I held up my hand in a futile attempt to ward it off.
Then, my hand started glowing blue. The demon got a face full of blue orb. Several more lunged, and they each got a face full of blue light. Sabrina’s wound had closed up, and the demons were gone.
Sab stood. “Looks like 12,000 quid for us.”
“Agreed, but for good measure …” I pulled the second flame grenade off my belt.
