by Joe Jackson
“You’re starting to sound like me,” Kris chuckled. “Let’s move.”
They crept to the edge of the overlook, still a considerable distance from the tower. But just as the last light failed and eyes had to make the adjustment, it represented a good time to try to make the flight and land up there undetected. Bedlam was the goal, but not until they reached the tower. They couldn’t fight their way there, and fighting on the streets wouldn’t have the same effect – in fact, it would have the opposite effect than they were going for. What Kris wanted was for Curlamanx to feel exposed, not protected by a city full of people.
Corbanis leapt first and took wing. By all rights, neither of them should be able to fly, but their wings managed. Corbanis, even encased in his darkened plate armor as he was, lost only a few feet of altitude before he leveled out and began making his way to the keep. This was going to be one of the most grueling minutes of Kris’ life, but they were all in now. Once he double checked the security of his blades, he leapt off after his companion.
Kris saw Corbanis catch an updraft, and followed after. They were able to gain a bit more altitude, and once above their target, they were able to glide rather than fly. That limited the noise of their wings flapping, and conserved a lot of energy. There was only a pair of heavy flaps as they alighted on the edge of the tower balcony, and they crouched down and looked over the edge. It was a couple of hundred feet to the ground, but there was no indication they had been spotted. If anyone saw them, they didn’t raise the alarm right away.
Kris got to his feet and tested the latch on the door. “Oh, look at that. It’s locked.”
“Hang on, Aeligos gave me his lock picks,” Corbanis said. He pulled the shield off his back and slammed his girth behind it into the door, smashing the flimsy portal off its hinges with ease. “That was easier than he makes it out to be…”
The time for jokes was over, then. There were shouts of surprise from nearby, and both Kris and Corbanis drew their swords. The upper floor with the balcony was indeed a bedroom, but Curlamanx obviously wasn’t allowed to use his master’s chambers while Arku was away. There was, however, a succubus lying in the bed, and she jumped up to a kneeling position when the two warriors burst through the door.
Corbanis didn’t hesitate. The demoness’ head rolled from her shoulders as easily as the sword rolled in his sideways swing. Its blade cast a short flame in the blue of the pantheon, and Kris knew the weapon well enough that such meant there were more demons – succubi and incubi, perhaps other types – nearby. Corbanis continued to the doorway on the far side, which presumably led to the staircase down.
Kris paused only long enough to watch the succubus’ blood coating the demon king’s bed. Whatever the outcome of their mission, Arku was going to be incensed at his consort being killed, Kris had no doubt about that. That wasn’t his primary concern, however; Curlamanx was their goal. But with that thought came the realization that Curlamanx would be held to blame when Arku came back and found his woman dead, whether the demon king cared for her or not.
The Warlord stepped up to the door and immediately sensed there were guards behind it waiting to ambush them when it was opened. Black Diamond cleaved the door easily and there was a choked gasp from the other side as it continued into someone’s flesh. As soon as Kris ripped the blade from the doorway, Corbanis threw the portal open, but the door itself fell in half at his pull. Kris stepped off to the side, and twitched only slightly at the loud whap that sounded when Corbanis shield-slammed the surviving, charging guard.
The elestram fell back and down the stairs, and the two warriors rushed after him. They hardly reached the next landing before Corbanis stabbed the fallen elestram through the chest. It didn’t seem necessary to Kris; he was certain the guard’s neck was broken during the fall. But he knew Corbanis was fueled by vengeance at the moment, and Kris wouldn’t have to reiterate his orders about killing those who put up resistance. Just as that thought crossed his mind, he saw the balanced forces sigil of Zalkar draw itself on the demonhunter’s chest in glowing light blue.
“You swore a Blood Oath?” Kris asked, and Corbanis nodded silently. “He’s close.”
This level opened into another bedchamber, but was unoccupied. “Burn it,” Kris said, and Corbanis’ form was suddenly lined with flames. He set fire to the bedding and some of the drapes, and then they continued down the stairs.
There were shouts from down below again, and several more armed guards made their way up the stairs to meet the attackers. Corbanis was better prepared for a tight-quarters assault, and Kris let him take the lead. The larger half-guardian effectively stymied one of the guards with his shield while he traded swordplay with the other.
Kris lined up his opponents and then, using the stairs behind them, launched himself clear over Corbanis, driving his foot squarely into the throat of the stymied guard. Kris drew his blades as he spun, and lopped an arm off the other. The first was gasping on the floor, and he turned and stabbed it through the chest quickly and pressed on down the stairs. Behind him, he heard the squelch of Corbanis ending the life of the other before he followed.
They descended two more levels, and Kris had Corbanis set those ablaze as well. It was going to make for an uncomfortable exit, but they had the advantage of being unharmed by the type of fires they were leaving. Not breathing for a couple of minutes was another matter, but they could likely handle that as well. Those weren’t the issues.
The issue was the fact that the levels were empty. Their enemies were falling back into a ready position, and Kris and Corbanis were about to walk into a pretty obvious ambush. Fighters were something they could handle, but Kris wondered how resilient his companion was when it came to arcane attacks. Thus far, they had been lucky, but if confronted by numerous arcanists, things were going to get dangerous.
“Think this is working?” Corbanis asked as they paused at an empty landing.
“If Liria’s been doing her part, I think it will. Either way, it can’t hurt. At worst, they’re going to be looking for us, and that means less people looking for Erik. At least we have a way off this planet if things get desperate.”
“How many more do we need to kill?”
Kris waved one of his blades around casually. “Probably not too many more. I think the fact that we got Arku’s consort is going to mean more than killing dozens of guards and soldiers will. Maybe we just push a bit further, let them fight us off, and promise to return?”
“That would likely get the message across, especially once whispers start to spread of our larger force somewhere near Dauchin-Rache. Lead the way, my friend.”
“Hello?”
Kris looked at Corbanis and found him staring back. Where had that voice come from? They paused where they were on the stairs, and both warriors put their backs to the walls. Kris gestured around, but Corbanis merely shrugged; it had been so fleeting, hard to pinpoint.
“Is someone there?”
The Warlord quick-stepped to the opposite wall and put his ear to it. “Who is that?” he called back in infernal, mindful of his voice carrying too far down the stairs.
“Please help me.”
“What is it?” Corbanis asked.
“Someone calling for help,” the Warlord said.
“This has got to be a trick,” the Tesconis patriarch said with a shake of his head.
“It does seem likely, but then… not the kind of thing I can leave to chance. You want to stay here and stand guard?”
The demonhunter nodded, so Kris pushed against the wall, ducking to the side as the hidden panel triggered a click when it opened. Nothing sprang forward or exploded, and he gave the latch only a brief examination before he climbed in and began to crawl down the passage. It was clearly meant to act as a bottleneck in case of escape, assuming it truly led to some kind of prison. But Kris’ doubts about that were erased a moment later when he realized it didn’t lead into a prison, but it was a prison.
The “cells” were bare
ly large enough for someone to lie down in, and that in turn meant they had to lay in their own filth if they weren’t let out for such issues. By the bones in some of the alcoves and the stench that the chimneys couldn’t dispel deeper in, Kris guessed they didn’t get out all that often, if at all. The first four cells had only decomposing remains in them, but there was a mallasti in the fifth.
Kris was so busy staring at the white coat marred with dried blood that he didn’t notice the other important detail right away: the cell had no door. She was caged into the wall by iron bars, but they were set right into the stone blocks with no obvious way to remove them. Why Arku would go to such lengths to imprison people was beyond him, but Kris didn’t need to know the answer to that question. Even if this mallasti girl was the worst of the worst criminals in Si’Dorra, this was a fate no one deserved.
“Get as far from the bars as you can,” Kris whispered, and she curled herself up as much as she could into the rear of the coffin-sized cell.
He managed to get Black Diamond free from its sheath, and used one of the other cells’ openings to turn it around in his grip. He couldn’t muster much of a swing with it, but the diamond-bladed sword didn’t need much. It cut through the first of the bars with minimal effort, and Kris continued with the other five. He then did the same up high, opening the cage the only way he could.
Lucky for this girl I have this sword, he thought. That is, if I believed in luck at all.
She crawled out of the hole and threatened to smother Kris as she tried to cling to the only vestige of freedom she’d likely seen in some time. She was emaciated; he could see and feel that even through her robes. She smelled putrid, likely a combination of sickness, infection, and the fact that she had to wallow in her own filth. Kris gestured for her to follow, and helped her along, dragging her by the hands where he could.
Corbanis pulled Kris out by the feet when they reached the stairwell, and he put a hand to the end of his snout when the mallasti girl emerged. “Gods above, was she in a cesspit?”
“Pretty much,” Kris said. “Change in plans. Get her up top and out of here before the fire and smoke are too widespread to get her through.”
“What about you?”
“Let me see how much of the original plan I can still finish.”
The demonhunter nodded. Kris expected an argument in light of his Blood Oath, but the Tesconis patriarch seemed to be too disciplined to argue. He hefted the girl over a shoulder and grimaced as he did so, but there was shock on his features when he looked at Kris one last time. “I thought mallasti were supposed to be heavy…,” he muttered. “We need to get her to safety and feed her.”
“Get to it, I’ll be right behind you,” Kris agreed, patting Corbanis’ shoulder to send them on their way. Once they rounded the bend up the stairs, Kris looked back down and scowled. He tapped his left shoulder, drew his second blade, and stalked down the stairs.
The entire situation went against all of Kris’ instincts. He was alone, outnumbered, in enemy territory, and fighting an unknown number and complement of opponents. On the other hand, there was one fiber of his being that said this was the place to be and the thing to be doing. His father was the “god” of freedom, and despite his conflicted feelings on what his father truly was in the grand scheme of things, that devotion to freedom was in Kris’ blood. That Arku was a despotic king who ground his subjects under his feet was bad enough…
To find people entombed in the very walls of his castle, though? That was a sacrilege that had to be answered. This was no superstition or theological scare tactic; the creation of the undead, particularly haunts, specters, wraiths, and poltergeists was very real. To find that Arku entombed his own people in walls to trap and torture their spirits was something Kris could not just walk away from. And in the back of his mind, he wanted to spit when he considered the demon king had just left the city.
I wonder if we could catch up to him, he thought. We’re not prepared for it, but I’d sure like to give it a shot.
Rounding the final bend of the stairs, Kris found an entire squad waiting for him. There was no sign of Curlamanx, but half a dozen elestram, two mallasti, and a couple of valirasi were in position to meet the invaders. The jackal-folk were armed with swords, the valirasi with spears and crossbows, and the mallasti appeared to be gathering arcane power about them. Kris looked from face to face, his enemies oddly calm, not snarling or scowling at all.
“Where are the others?” one of the elestram demanded in infernal.
“Probably attacking your duke by now,” Kris answered in the same tongue.
The jackal-man looked to his companions, and that was all the distraction Kris needed to start the festivities. Glory Stream flew end over end and took the elestram in the chest, and he fell in a lifeless heap amidst the stunned forms of his companions. Kris took up Black Diamond in both hands and eviscerated one of the valirasi through the barricade it stood behind, the black sword destroying barrier and man effortlessly.
Kris spun with the momentum and tucked his wings behind himself, wary of the other crossbowman landing a shot into one of the unprotected membranes. Encased in his paluric plate armor, Kris really only had to be concerned with his wings, being overwhelmed, and the arcane power of the mallasti. With that in mind, he shrugged off the hard impact of a crossbow bolt and lunged for one of the hyena-folk.
The mallasti fell to its rump and scrambled away, and it scattered from Kris’ thoughts just as quickly. Instead he hacked violently at the elestram to his left, then stabbed backward under his wing, forcing the flanking swordsman away from his back. He threw a scissor kick as the one before him came in again, catching it low in the shin to distract before his other foot came up and snapped the jackal-man’s snout up in a spray of blood. Kris shoved him back and followed in the man’s wake, using the momentum to get to the golden blade still lodged upright in the first one’s guts.
Re-armed with both swords, Kris stalked around the outside of the room, bringing all of his enemies before him again. “Try arcane power, maybe?” he asked, holding his blades out to the sides in challenge.
The attack came suddenly, yet predictably. The mallasti favored electrical attacks, and Kris was prepared for it. There was no dodging a lightning bolt without knowing it was coming well in advance, but he didn’t have to, driving it harmlessly aside with willpower. His enemies stood slack-jawed, and Kris brought his swords up to rest on his shoulders. How could they know he had trained under Celigus Chinchala himself, a demon king many times greater than the one they served?
Still, as much as Kris’ vengeful instinct was screaming at him to make Curlamanx pay for what Arku had done to the mallasti girl, he had to vacate the premises soon. The goal was to make Curlamanx feel vulnerable, as he’d said, and not to kill the demonic duke and plunge the entire realm into chaos. If Liria had accomplished her task, this strike was going to cause the duke to rally his defenses or, better yet, look for Kris and his team instead of Erik.
And the dead succubus upstairs has got to make Curlamanx concentrate on us, Kris thought.
The trick now was to make his enemies think they had turned the tide against him. If he was to simply withdraw, they’d know it was a diversionary tactic. What he needed was…
As if in answer to his thoughts, an erestram entered the chamber and shoved its smaller companions aside as it made for Kris. He met its aggression with his own, but took care to use Glory Stream as much as he could. If he destroyed its weapon with Black Diamond, that would ruin his hope of using the erestram as a reason to leave. He followed much of the same routine he had when fighting the other erestram days before, and as expected, it slammed him with its knee.
Kris hit the wall behind him but scrambled sideways towards the stairs. The erestram made to follow, but Kris shocked it by stepping in rather than away. He sliced along its forearm with a mock-desperation swing, just enough to annoy it, then ducked and spun out of the way of its war scythe coming around. Then he was away
up the stairs, the air thickening with smoke and heat as he ascended into the levels above, now fully ablaze.
The erestram hit him in the lower back with a blind swing through the smoke, but it didn’t follow him any further. Kris grimaced, a bruise no doubt on the way after that hit, but he knew he’d be able to heal it once he could sit still. But that required he find five minutes to sit still. He had some distance to go for that.
Corbanis was hopefully at the rendezvous point already. Kris ran up the stairs, planning to alight east of the city, then make his way south into the forests to meet with his friends at the designated place. He still needed to get word to Liria, but Sonja would be able to handle that once they were all together again. As he’d explained to Corbanis, escape was the most important thing right now, and thankfully, the impromptu burning of the upper levels was going to facilitate that.
The Warlord counted the landings as he made his way up, and eventually made his way blindly through the door into what he assumed was Arku’s bedchamber. The smell of burning flesh told him he was where he thought he was, and he returned to holding his breath as he cut through the room toward the balcony. He leapt from the railing and tried to stay within the rising smoke to camouflage his egress, and that only took him slightly off course from where he intended to land.
Corbanis was nowhere to be seen, so Kris got his bearings and spotted the stand of trees deeper in the forest where he was to meet his companions. He left the sentries still bound and gagged when he passed them; eventually, their companions would come to relieve them, and then they could tell whatever story they wanted. Whatever they said, it was likely to enhance the plan Kris and his companions had concocted; chances were good they weren’t going to admit to being overwhelmed by two men. No one should have a clear indication of how many Citarian attackers were truly out there.
When he reached the rendezvous point, there was no one there. Kris looked to and fro, but though he saw signs the others had been in the area under his low-light vision, he was alone. He considered himself fortunate, at least, that he wasn’t being actively pursued by anyone. The night blindness of the valirasi played to his advantage, as they would have been the only ones that could have tracked him. Using the smoke as camouflage should have rendered his egress untraceable.
