Without even the slightest warning, the demon dashed right back at him readying a punch from below. Rylan guarded with both arms and leaped back, the punch forcing him even further than he intended against a tree. Immediately after followed a chop from which he ducked but behind him he heard the tree collapse loudly. He grappled the demon and attempted to smack him against the ground but with a swift, slippery maneuver the demon got on top and pushed Rylan head first towards the ground. His eyes frantically searched for something to aid him but alas, it looked like the fight would come to a hasty end. Or so the demon thought, because Rylan prompted his fists against the ground and then smacked backwards with his elbows, hitting his opponent in the ribcage. That gave him enough space to roll forward from that same motion and escape from the clutches of doom.
“The more I fight you, the more my battle thirst rises.” He regained his balance with a wide grin on his face but was surprised to see Rylan right before him with a punch flying at his face. He was smacked right in the temple yet again, flying into the tree stump.
“Don’t waste your breath talking during a duel.” said Rylan as he fell over him, punching him in the guts with his left arm while the glowing hand clutched the throat of the demon with an iron grip.
“And you should hit with that ethereal arm of yours…” whispered the demon, smacking his chest with his palm and making him cough a great deal of blood. Rylan refused to let go of him and continued to smash his abdomen. His opponent knocked him in the head with his and grasped him from beneath his armpits, holding him in the air. “You have lost.” With one swift motion, he turned him around and sent him into the ground, leaving him lying there unconscious. The man had a triumphant smile on his face but blood was dripping from both his nose and mouth. He fell on his back and lied on the ground for a while to restore his strength. The regenerative powers of a demon are far higher than that of any other being in the world and so it took him only an hour to regain his stamina. He swiftly stood back up, grabbed Rylan on his shoulder and his sword in the other hand, leaping up into a tree dashing from branch to branch through the forest, heading north.
Chapter 10 - Sinister allies
H e stared at her naked body drifting in the shadows. That golden hair couldn’t belong to anyone else but Rilwen and yet she did not face him as she vanished into darkness. He was standing on a small platform, the only thing visible in that void. Cackling voices shunned him and towering shadows rose from the abyss, staring at him with cold, pygmy eyes. Their twisted grins were chilling the marrow in his bones and as the voices were getting louder inside his head, their abominable masses came crashing down on him, dissipating into thin air. Rylan was now surrounded by his party as they were all striding across the platform. They were nearing the edge of it and he shouted at them to stop but they seemed deaf to his advice. As they took their first step seemingly into the abyss, a narrow path was revealed to him and he decided to follow them. A cold wind was blowing from behind and when he turned his gaze around, he could see the floor slowly and silently collapse in his wake. Upon turning back, his allies were gone and he raced across the platform, unable to outrun his doom. As there was nothing else physical surrounding him, he went into a state of numbness. He was on the brink of losing all faith but a faint light shone in that devouring abyss. It was his own light, his hand shining ever bright. He stretched his right arm forward, visibly ripping through the shadow engulfing him. But the abyss did not forgive and struck him in return. He felt a powerful blow to his chest and all the air left his lungs. He was left suffocating as he drifted through that void. His arm was getting blurry and he could feel his eyes slowly closing. No matter how much strength of will he mustered, he could do naught but give in to darkness.
He coughed violently as he was brought back to his senses. He was riding in someone’s arm and could only see that person’s rear. It had a broad back covered in fur and long, muscled legs which sprinted across the land with an almost feline grace. From somewhere above he could hear the flap of wings and as he turned his gaze he noticed a most fearsome creature with bat like wings, flying at the same pace with them. He also noticed movement in his peripheral vision and upon looking he realized they were escorted by an entire horde of demons of all shapes and sizes. To his own surprise, he wasn’t in the least afraid of them. His only concern was his missing weapon which he immediately after noticed in the other hand of the fiend carrying him.
“You woke up just in time to marvel at the splendor of our new citadel.” uttered the furred demon, pointing with Rylan’s sword forward. He looked over his shoulder and was left in awe at the sheer immensity of the fortress before them. Now that he had a moment to observe his actual surroundings, he realized the land was barren and the earth itself was darker than normal. Giant cracks ran through the coarse ground and the air was stale and putrid. Upon taking a breath, Rylan coughed again, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth and his nostrils.
“Is this the mighty warrior you are so proud of, Kara’lak? I will be surprised if he reaches Xhutul alive.” A cawing voice said from above. The speaker was most likely the winged demon flying along with them. His raspy, defiant voice was annoying to say the least.
“He is the best I could find and I am sure he would easily outsmart such an ignorant soul like you, Hakan.” answered Kara’lak the furred fiend. He spoke about him with pride even though he was used only as an insult for his winged companion.
“Is Xhutul another demon or is it the name of your fortress?”
“Xhutul is the name of your doom-” Cawed Hakan but was swiftly interrupted by the other demon.
“Silence, you obsolete insect!” roared Kara’lak with a booming voice. He was angered by petty, nonsensical talk. “It is indeed the name of the dark citadel you see.” Silence fell afterwards and they continued until they reached the great gates, encrusted with dark pearls and rimmed by spikes. The doors swung open slowly with ominous creaks, letting out a deathly chill and a noxious stench. Rylan looked around at all the demons getting in before them as they were the last to enter. He stared in despair as the massive iron gates closed behind them and he was now trapped in the surprisingly thriving city of Xhutul. It was nothing like what he expected. This city fortress was comprised of a multitude of great halls, each serving a purpose. This first hall was the living quarters of all low ranking demons of all sizes and shapes. Some of them even looked like normal human beings, save for their horns, tails or hooves. The ground and the demons here were filthy but the architecture itself was both frightening and marvelous. From pillars with sculpted skulls to great archways and towering walls. His gaze turned to the ceiling and even there it was full of winged monsters, roaming in and out of their nests.
Kara’lak took him through the living quarters all the way to another district of the fortress. At the border between them was a dark archway with inscriptions in the foul language of the demons, for not all of them could speak the common tongue. Rylan was most uncomfortable in that submissive position and with all cold, starved gazes fixed on him. The new hall they entered was much more illustrious and Rylan even let out an exclamation of awe.
“The halls of our regent lord.” whispered the demon as he finally let him down and forced him to bow all the way to the ground. Rylan only managed to sneak a glimpse of the feared lord and he was more than he could fathom. His very presence challenged his will and his war gear drew away all light from its vicinity. A dark halo crowns his helmet and his fingers tap the armrest of the throne he sits upon. His tireless, vengeful glare stares down on Rylan and a triumphant smile covers his face. The silence is interrupted by skittering sounds as massive spiders start crawling from hidden cracks and corners toward them. He looked to his right only to see Kara’lak still prostrated before the lord but then his gaze switched to all the long, hairy legs heading toward him.
“If I challenge and defeat their regent lord, I might be able to take control over the fortress and render the remaining demon forces usele
ss.” He thought as he slightly arched his back and prepared his legs to leap over the furred demon and take back his sword. A vision flashed before his eyes just as his train of thought reached that conclusion. It was of him, fighting against this abominable force but the odds were against his favor. He was impaled on his sword and swiftly decapitated with a chop of his dark gauntlets. Suddenly, he was brought back to reality by a dreadful laugh and by the sound of heavy steps across the floor. As much as he could see from his position, the scrawny legs of the spiders had stopped in place but a pair of black greaves was headed straight from the throne, stepping down the stairs. Each step was shaking his very being to the core and all his senses were on edge. Blood was pumping in his veins and his right arm was glowing brighter than the sun. His soul was the only thing radiating, piercing the darkness in defiance. His legs pushed him off the ground like springs and he leapt over Kara’lak, grasping his executioner sword and putting it up in front as a shield. The dark lord was already gone from sight and he felt warm around his abdomen. His eyes moved down at the tip of the runed blade coming out of his body. The blow itself was not fatal but the curse put upon the sword drained all his mana and even the once glowing arm faded to nothingness. His vision was growing blurry and his knees were shaking in exhaustion but he managed to pull himself out of the blade, wavering on his feet. A voice like the wind and empty like the void mocked him.
“You have high aspirations for a mortal but your human shell holds you back. I will have you resurrected as a mighty warrior to spread my will, which is the will of our great Demon Queen.”
“Don’t you dare mess with me!” yelled Rylan while spitting blood and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the same and only hand which now held his mighty sword.
“Is that so?” The hissing voice replied. He was staring right back at the gleeful eyes filled with murderous joy but he was not amused, in fact he was cornered. In his peripheral vision he noticed Kara’lak was frozen from the surprise of his actions. “You fool, that was a vision of the fate that will befall you. How do you wish to stand against something that was set in stone?” There was no longer any trace of a mouth as the dark lord spoke but his voice devoid of all emotion was thundering unlike before. Rylan sprung from his place once more striking at his side and was barely met with a parry.
“You fiends bolster better than you fight.” He turned his sword around and swung with vicious fury, smashing into the crested plating of the chest. Sparks went flying and the dark lord seemingly raised his sword from below in an attempt to cut off the only remaining arm but as Rylan dodged away was met with the cursed blade through his abdomen once more. The excruciating pain he felt forced him to vomit blood but he still raised his sword as a guard against the incoming hit which would’ve left him without a head.
“Tsk.” His opponent was angered by his pointless struggle and so he spun the sword with one hand, grasping him by the neck with the other. The sword tore through his flesh, leaving a long wound across his body. Once more he stabbed him but this time higher, taking pleasure in Rylan’s pained grimace. The dark lord pulled out his blade, splattering the blood from his blade on the cold floor of his hall and pierced once more, one final time… through his heart. The light in Rylan’s eyes was gone. His massive sword fell on the ground with a loud clang. All that could be heard was the sound of blood dripping on the floor, amassing into a pool.
“You fool.” thought Kara’lak as he finally stood up while keeping his gaze to the ground. The demon lord threw the lifeless body away and wiped his blade clean as he walked back towards the throne. As he sat down, the joy from killing Rylan was gone and he looked rather infuriated as he slowly caressed the dent in his chestplate.
“Overconfident, self-righteous bastards need to be taught a lesson even if it means dirtying my gauntlets.” He sighed loudly, dismissing the circle of arachnids around them with the flick of his wrist. “Have him resurrected by Qlaphox and then sent into imprisonment for until I send someone after him.” Kara’lak nodded, picked up the corpse and silently left the hall. The dark lord pointed his hand at the pool of blood, evaporating it into black smoke and then he stood up from his throne. His greedy eyes were set on the blade towards which he slowly strolled across the hall. He stopped right before it and put one of his boots over it as a sign of domination. “To think this crude slab of iron would leave such a deep wound.” He hesitated in place, taking away his foot and bending down to inspect it. He ran his fingers across the length of the blade feeling something abnormal. “What is this?” He whispered still confused as to what he was feeling about the peculiar weapon. He didn’t want to admit reality and so he swiftly retracted his fingers and kicked away the sword into a dark corner of the hall. He laughed curtly and before standing back down he signaled for someone. One of the spiders from before appeared from behind a large pillar and he whispered something in the demon tongue. Two more spiders appeared and the three arachnids left for where the sword was located, taking it away with them. He shook his head and stood back down, resting his head on his right fist while tapping the armrest with his left fingers in a monotone fashion.
His claws scratched the stone floor as he stepped into the gloomy room. It was messy and dirty beyond belief but for a demon that was the standard. The red, lupine eyes searched for someone or something and his gaze fell upon a large table filled with the partially devoured entrails of what used to be an elf.
“Why do you disturb me, mongrel?” said a hoarse, high pitched voice seemingly coming from a mass of fat not far from the table, hidden in the shadows. The blob of fat suddenly stood up, revealing legs and arms in an amount higher than that of any conscious being. One of those arms outstretched all the way to the lifeless body in the arms of the furred demon. Kara’lak opened his mouth ready to chomp on the greedy hand which immediately pulled back. He growled and shook his head, knocking things around him with his antlers by accident. The beast sighed and with a loud puff of smoke, he turned into human form.
“The regent lord said to revive the corpse of this human warrior.” A wide grin appeared on the face of the fat demon and Kara’lak growled menacingly, staring at him with unforgiving eyes. “If you do anything to his body I will make sure you won’t be able to practice your foul arts forever more.”
“Can’t I add a few tentacles in the stead of his stub?” asked Qlaphox with a defying smile on his hideous face. “No matter, I will have need of your mundane abilities. Unlike us, he has a soul which you’ll have to retrieve from the realm of the dead. Tarry too long and you’ll become a wraith.”
“How do I –” Before he had the time to finish, Qlaphox pointed towards an empty, circular doorframe mounted on a wall. The frame was inscribed with runes which he could barely understand. What he could make out of them were the words door or portal and death. With a swift phrase and a blast of dark energy from one of the fat hands, the demon opened the portal for him. “How will I know where to find it?”
“None of my business.” answered Qlaphox dismissively as he started preparing the body of the deceased with the same awful grin. Kara’lak bit his lip, untrusting of the demon and transformed right before passing through the siphoning vortex in the doorframe.
The demon was hit by a blast of cold wind as soon as he got on the other side. His entire felt numb as if it belonged to someone else. His essence was splitting away from him and even moving was a difficult task in that domain. The stench of death was ever present and as he slowly moved forward was met with unusual occurrences. Debris was floating around and that was when he realized he was on a small floating island. There were countless of these platforms floating across the sky slowly without a sound but no way to reach them. The sight was marvelous even for a demon which has lived as long as Kara’lak. Far on the horizon, a bloody red sun sent its rays through the branches of an oak tree. As he inspected the edge of his island he noticed breezes of sparkling mana flying gently everywhere. All of a sudden the ground rocked violently and he
fell over the edge and into the abyss. Instead of falling he simply floated around and without great effort he turned around and grabbed onto a tuft of grass, pulling himself back on the island. The cause of his fall was a large rock which collided with his. He had to focus because there was no telling how much time he had before turning to a wraith. Firstly he looked back to make sure the portal was still there but his heart skipped a beat.
“I’ll just get on with my task.” He thought seeing as the portal he came through was gone. The demon dashed to the edge of the floating island and leapt with the aid of his momentum. He was slowly drifting towards the base of another platform. He grabbed onto the roots sticking out of from the dirt and slowly made his way up top, next to the oak tree. He now had a higher vantage point from which he could scout the area. There wasn’t much in the direction from which he came but if he continued forward, at some point the islands grew in size and were brimming with blue shining crystals, emerging from the very ground. He leapt across platforms with ease until he reached the mysterious place with crystals. He could even see his reflection in them but something was off. Even though he was in his demon form, the visage he was staring at was that of his human… the visage from before he was turned. He had keen, green eyes, dark brown hair and an aquiline nose. His messy locks were being blown by the arcane winds and when he reached for his face, even his fingers were made of flesh and bones. He looked for a larger crystal, one twice his size and admired his bare, supple body without any fur on it. For the first time in ages he was happy again, but there was something in the back of his mind. He could hear faint whispers around him even though there was no trace of a being, living or dead. He continued onward across the maze of towering crystals which reflected the light’s rays. He could feel no warmth from the sun, only a constant chill freezing his toes and hands.
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