A Succubus

SUCCUBUS.

Tristan shuddered. He had hoped the wanted poster would be for some weak imp or satyr. Succubi were dangerous creatures capable of enthralling men in seconds. Sir Reginald in his prime would hesitate to fight a succubus, would Tristan be able to face one and live to tell the tale?

Tristan's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in hours. I suppose I don't have much of choice he thought. The poster contained additional information on where to find the demon; the succubus was close, with luck, Tristan would be able to fight and kill before dusk. Once he was confident he knew where he was going he unhitched Bucephalus and began ridding to the abandoned tower where the Succubus made her lair.

The sun was setting beneath the forest and Tristan kicked himself for only stealing the horse when he fled. Sir Reginald had become a glutton, gorging himself meats and pastries. His pantry was well stocked and Tristan would have been able to take a handful of food this morning without raising suspicion. Bucephalus too looked hungry and tired. The horse's pace was slowing and he grunted for food. Tristan patted his steed gently. Once he killed the Succubus, he would make sure the horse got well fed and well-groomed.

The pair approached the Succubus' tower. It was derelict, built by a long-dead king for a scantly remembered war. Most of the surface had been reclaimed by nature, vines hung around the structure and ferns occupied the former path leading to the tower. The grass reached to Bucephalus' knees. There was a faint light gleaming from the top of the tower, the sole sign of occupation. Tristan got closer and saw the light glowed purple, suggesting a magical origin. The sensible person would see a magic flame and turn back, Tristan thought, but he was and brave, so would try his luck against the monster.

Tristan departed Bucephalus and made his way closer on foot. He scanned the area for runes drawn into the ground or other such indication of a Succubus's trap but saw nothing. Either the creature was arrogant and assumed no one would willingly come to her lair or her booby traps were too subtle for Tristan to notice. He hoped it was the former.

The door to the tower was made of wood and around the edges had been withered away by the elements, rusted metal connected it to the rest of the building. Tristan pushed on the door lightly and it opened without causing a sound. The first floor lacked any furniture or items, it was an empty room made from stone bricks. To the back of the room, a spiralling staircase began, which Tristan assumed went all the way up. He stepped forward and started his ascent up the tower.

Each room should more signs of life but the Succubus remained absent. The second floor had tables and boxes that Tristan didn't investigate. The third floor was a library. The fourth had vials full of strange liquids and smelt of exotic herbs and spices. Runes were etched into the floor and a steel cross with attached cuffs for restraint lay on the far side. A chill went down Tristan's spine. What would be his fate if he failed to kill the Succubus?

At the top of the staircase was a steel door much better preserved than the one at the entrance. It too was adorned in runes and other symbols Tristan knew to associate with pagans and the occult arts. He drew his sword. Was the Succubus even home? Nothing had prevented Tristan from getting this far, perhaps the tower was empty and the purple fire was just some ruse. Or maybe the Succubus was there, could Tristan still walk away? Escape the tower and return to Sir Reginald and beg for his forgiveness. Tristan threw these thoughts out of his head. This was what he always wanted. To fight evil and be a hero. He readied himself.

Tristan took one final deep breath and pushed open the door.