Devil Ash Disarray (Devil Ash Saga Book 3)

by Mitchell Olson

  Ash passed an information kiosk and picked up a map. His to-do list of events had been the shortest, and now he saw why. In all of West Hell, there were only a handful of games and events to choose from. The Demon Rodeo took up most of the valuable space, and The Fire Arcade claimed the second largest chunk of West Hell real estate. Since he was closest to it, Ash headed for The Fire Arcade.

  When he wasn’t staring at his map, Ash caught a lot of looks from the surrounding inhabitants of the kingdom. The crowds grew thicker the closer he got to the arcade. Every time he turned his head he caught another person staring at him. The looks on their faces were always of surprise, delight, or, less often, disgust. Apparently some devils disliked humans, for some reason.

  One look, from a particularly elderly man, stopped Ash dead in his tracks. The boy’s heart turned to stone when he spotted the old man dressed in fine robes. A Noble, Ash figured. His face was wrinkled in loathing, his nose turned up at the half-human. For a brief moment Ash believed the old Noble to be harboring one of the greater demons, there to finish the job.

  But as Ash and the old Noble locked eyes, the boy detected a distinct absence of the demon’s particular brand of malice. The man disliked Ash, sure, but it was not the same as his earlier encounters with Otozek. No way the boy would ever forget the look on the demon Prince’s faces then. Compared to him, the old Noble looked like an angry puppy. The old Noble quickly lost interest in the stare-off. With a heavy huff, he turned away and took a bite of something that looked like a giant prune on a stick and walked away. Ash could finally breathe again seeing him go.

  More people’s eyes followed the boy as he came to an area many considered to be the ‘main drag’ of West Hell. The land stretched through a long, winding canyon. Hundreds of dwellings were carved straight into the canyon walls. Some units were multi tiered, like stacks of boxes along the orange and brown stone. The place always reminded Ash of an insect colony. Devils flew in and out of the units like bees coming and going from their hive.

  When it occurred to Ash that he was entirely surrounded by people with no chance whatsoever of escape, his heart rate increased. He could feel the eyes on him. The day’s heat must have been getting to him, because he was sweating like a wet mop being wrung. He saw people whispering to their companions as he passed by, gaping and gawking and pointing at him. It didn’t take long for his headache to return, dull at first but growing steadily sharper as the chatter from the crowd increased.

  Ash’s hand slid over the rectangular lump in his pocket. The tiny pillbox from Goddard had subconsciously become an item of comfort to Ash. He had to make sure it was still in his pocket at all times, since his odds of survival were pretty much reduced to 0% without it. The slight comfort the pillbox brought him did nothing to abolish the growing paranoia he felt as the crowd’s drifting conversations caught his ears.

  “…that’s him, right? The human?”

  “…his name’s Ash Crumpland, you know?”

  “…could have sworn he was older and better looking…”

  “…he’s just some kid…”

  “…I could take him in a fight…”

  “…maybe that cute death toucher is somewhere around here…”

  “…straight up thought the guy’s name was Ass for a while…”

  Ash tried tuning the people out. He focused on the overall dull static of the collective instead of individual strands of conversation. Remembering that his health would most likely take a sudden dive in the presence of the demons, he found the courage to move on.

  With his stomach churning Ash pressed on, approaching a busier section of the street where he could see the start of the arcade. Before him stretched a long curved hill that winded down and around several enormous rock formations. All along the pathway were booths of varying sizes. A nearby sign pointed toward the hill with an arrow, the text beside it read The Fire Arcade.

  Before he could reach the hill and explore the arcade, Ash felt something dripping from his nose. He wiped it with his hand and was surprised to see blood. Frantically, the boy scoured the area for anything to plug his nose with. He spotted someone pulling paper from what looked like a napkin dispenser at a nearby shish kabob booth. With his head partially tilted back to stop the bleeding, Ash made for the shish kabob stand.

  He had the napkin in hand when the sound of someone clearing their throat made him turn his head. The large hairy man behind the counter was staring straight at him, a sly grin on his face.

  “Good morning, Mr. Kaplan,” the man said, eyeing the boy with great interest. “May I ask what you’re doing with that piece of tissue paper?”

  “I got a nosebleed,” Ash said, wadding up the paper napkin. “So I’m using a tissue to plug it.”

  The kabob stand owner said nothing, and Ash thought all was well. The boy stuck the rolled up wad of paper into his bleeding nostril and lowered his head slowly. Everything seemed plugged.

  “Five skorch,” the kabob stand owner replied, holding out an open hand for the payment.

  He’s gotta be scamming me, thought Ash. No one pays for napkins!

  “But that guy didn’t pay for one,” replied the boy, pointing his finger at the man that had grabbed a napkin in line just before him.

  “Don’t worry about that guy,” the kabob stand owner replied. “He’s a thief. He’s always stealing from me. He’s a gall-darn criminal. You will be too if you don’t pay up for that tissue paper!”

  The kabob stand owner thrust his hand at Ash and waited patiently. Customers in line to get a shish kabob were forced to wait on this stupid charade of a scam.

  “Five skorch is insane!” said Ash. “No way it costs that much for a stupid napkin. I won’t pay that. You’re clearly trying to rip me off. Is it because I’m a human?”

  Instead of answering Ash’s question, the kabob stand owner went quiet and averted his gaze. A moment passed where Ash thought the conflict might be over. He almost walked away then. But the defeated expression on the man’s face turned into a smile, and once again Ash heard him speak.

  “Look there,” he said. Ash followed the man’s gaze to see a Royal Guard patrolman, not far away. “If I tell that Royal Guard you’re refusing to pay your tab, who do you think he’ll side with?”

  “You’re joking…” Ash said, wide eyed. The man’s grim expression made it clear that he was not. “Probably you! They hate me.”

  Ash dug in his pocket for a five skorch coin. “Can’t believe I’m actually going to pay five skorch for a lousy napkin. Thanks a lot, bloody nose.” There were several coins in his pocket and it was impossible to tell them apart from touch alone. Ash had to pull a random coin out first, and as luck would have it the coin was a ten skorch coin.

  “Ten skorch,” the shish kabob man said after seeing the coin. At this point, Ash was so fed up with the situation he flipped the coin as rudely as he possibly could at the guy. The shish kabob man didn’t catch the coin, which went soaring over his head. He finally left the boy alone and rushed off to collect his precious scam money.

  Ash walked away just feeling lucky that his nosebleed problem was under control. He wanted to move on and check out The Fire Arcade finally. He moved like a rocket to the top of the hill where the arcade could be seen, stretching out for what seemed like a miles down into a rocky valley. At the base of the trail was a small park with a stage where a band played old-timey music on bizarre instruments.

  But the main attraction at The Fire Arcade was of course the games. As Ash headed down the slope, carefully dodging festivalgoers and foot traffic, he absorbed the sights and sounds of the various arcade games happening in the booths around him. The view from the top of the hill didn’t offer the best look at what exactly went on inside the box-like booths. Walking directly in front of them, Ash was finally able to see the games.

  Each booth was decked out with its own stock of prizes near the front to lure in potential players. There were stuffed dolls of every size and color for the childr
en. For the more mature player, most booths offered a wide selection of cheap knives, dull swords, and flimsy armor. The games didn’t have any names assigned to them, but as soon as Ash walked past a booth, the employee there would be sure to let him know the rules.

  He passed a row of games that involved moving several colorful balls through a maze of pipe work. The catch was that you could only move the balls by using your own flames. Not only did you have to navigate five balls through a pipe maze, but each ball also had to end up in the correct colored cup in the end. It looked like a challenging little puzzle that he could learn a thing or two from.

  Almost every game involved the use of the player’s own flames. Ash saw games where the players had to use their flames to push metal cutouts of some kind of demon shaped like a centaur across a racetrack. Another game had players trying to knock over a stack of heavy-looking metal cans with a fireball. He passed by a strength tester, similar to the ones he used to see at carnivals on Earth. A bell sat at the top of the tower, the objective of the test being to ring it. The Earth version of the game had contestants using a heavy hammer, but in Hell’s Fire Arcade the only way to ring that bell was with your own flames.

  Ash was certain he could ring the bell if he tried. He was tempted to give it a go, except that a nagging feeling of paranoia still weighed on his mind. He couldn’t let his guard down even for a moment. The demons could be watching. He was fairly certain they wouldn’t jump him in the open street, but at the same time he couldn’t depend on that reasoning to hold up forever. Sooner or later they’d come for him.

  It was only a matter of time.

  Ash was scouring the crowd for suspicious activity, his eyes drifting between the people and another intriguing flame game. The game in question had up to four players competing to see who could boil a cauldron the fastest. The steam it caused would then melt a ball of wax that held together a spring-loaded arm. When the winner caused the wax to fully melt, the arm shot up and struck a loud bell, announcing them victorious. They’d then get to choose between taking home a giant stuffed demon-octopus or a decorative twelve-inch dagger.

  The boy was distracted by the game when he heard a commotion on a side street. People were shouting, and not in a happy way. There was genuine fear in their cries. He could make out some words like “Watch out! It’s loose! Get back!”

  Then he heard the words he most dreaded: “Wild demon coming through!”

  Ash’s hand found the tiny pillbox in his pocket once again. It failed to provide him any comfort this time. The demon’s shrieking grew louder, and so did the shouts of warning coming from the men chasing it. The crowds divided in fear as a humongous demon galloped straight for Ash. It was only a block away but closing in fast. Four muscular legs that ended in hooves. Jet-black fur with a streak of white across its belly. Its extended snout ended in an elongated, fang-rimmed mouth. On its forehead, a long jagged trident of horns stuck out. The demons eyes were dark red, with even darker bloodshot veins running across them.

  The fearsome demon Unique Horn raced down the narrow gravel path towards Ash as panic-stricken spectators dove into nearby booths to get out of the way. The half-human was plagued by paranoia and froze to the spot. Could the demons have sent this beast at him to get him to move elsewhere? Were they springing a trap? Or was this unique horn demon one of them? There were too many questions and not enough time for thinking. All Ash could do was back up as the beast approached.

  Ash could smell the creature’s breath as it came close enough to assault his nose. The demon locked its bloodshot eyes on Ash and lowered its head. The trident tip of blade-like horns pointed straight at the boy. Ash stepped back until he hit a wall, the demon still closing in on him. His stomach began to tremble and his knees buckled.

  He prepared to jump for it, and hopefully land on a nearby roof. That became unnecessary as the demon’s handler showed up and got between the demon and the boy. The unique horn handler held a long pole. The tip of his pole ended in what looked like a close replica of the same trident horn on the demon’s head. The handler locked his trident with the demon’s unique horn and used all his strength to hold the beast at bay.

  “Sorry about that, boy!” the handler called to Ash as he struggled. “This wild beast is heading for the rodeo, and he’s not too excited about it!”

  Two more handlers showed up, armed with their own trident poles. They helped surround the unique horn demon, poking the beast in his sides to make it submit. When the beast was more docile, the team of handlers led it away back down the side street toward the demon rodeo.

  When Ash had caught his breath and ensured that his heart had indeed not left his body through his lowest opening, the boy made a mental note. I’ve got to check out that rodeo, he thought. I’ve got to see who’s crazy enough to get on that thing. No way you’ll ever see me try to kill myself riding one!

  Though his breath had returned and his heart rate slowed, Ash’s legs still shook like towers of jello. He found a bench to sit down on only a few shaky steps away. He kept a trained eye on the crowd before him, observing the talents of the various festival workers. One trio of beautiful women performed an impressive juggling trick, passing flaming pins between the three of them like it was easy. Close by were tables where artists sat in front of their canvases.

  An excited young man with a huge grin approached ash. The guy made an odd request that Ash join him for a picture. Confused about the process and too polite to decline, the guy dragged Ash over to an artist’s table where the two sat before the man and his canvas. The artist heated up his drawing tool, a wooden pen with a sharp metal tip at the end. The skilled artist then burned the thick wooden canvas like he was painting, etching in black burns the faces of the two boys.

  The process took over twenty minutes. Longer than Ash would have liked to be sitting vulnerable. His eyes never rested for more than a minute. When the artist was finally done, the pair stood up and examined his work. The boy who requested the picture looked spot-on, capturing an almost life-like resemblance to the guy. Ash’s portrait was all mixed up, none of the proportions appearing the correct shapes or sizes.

  “That doesn’t really look like me,” said Ash, giving the artist a skeptical look.

  “Then you should have sat still during the process like I told you to,” the artist snapped. “No refunds. Next!”

  “Great,” the guy who paid for the picture said sarcastically as the artist handed it to him and shooed the pair away. “No one will even be able to tell it’s you. What a waste of skorch.” The guy walked away, tossing the wood canvas into a nearby burning barrel for rubbish.

  And thanks for wasting my time, Ash thought. Not like I’m busy tracking greater demons that could eat everyone here or anything.

  Ash reached the bottom of the hill and the end of The Fire Arcade. The boy stood at the back of the large gathering of people crowding the stage to watch a musical act. Some lady played a humongous stringed instrument while two men banged on drums, one steel and one wooden. The woman sang passionately in a language Ash was not familiar with.

  The musical act competed with the nearby demon rodeo for audibility. The rodeo must have already started, because the shouts of excitement and applause from the crowd were loud enough to be heard even over the band. Ash decided to finish watching the band’s act, and then move on to check out the rodeo.

  As he stood at the back of the crowd tapping his foot to the rhythm, the shadow of someone flying overhead circled him. Ash became aware of his stalker only after she landed next to him, grabbing him by the shoulder. The boy spun in shock, faced by someone he was getting to know well by now.

  “Raley,” said Ash, surprised to see the girl. “What are you doing here?”

  Aralia tucked her wings into her body and crossed her arms, averting her gaze ever so slightly. “Just flying around,” she replied, acting laid-back. “I don’t have much to do now that the team’s been broken up.”

  Ash felt a sting of guilt a
t the girl’s words. He never liked the idea of leaving Aura to explain their team’s disbandment to her and Uverstarr. He’d hoped he could eventually talk to her in person about it, but now was not the time. Come to think of it, Ash was uncertain if there’d ever be a good time. He might not even last that long.

  “Sorry about cancelling everything,” Ash said, forcing a weak smile. “Something incredibly important came up. It was totally out of my control.”

  “You plan on making it up to me?” the girl asked, turning up her nose with a playful air of entitlement. “Or do you just want me to buzz off?”

  The band on stage finished their final song as the crowd erupted with cheers and applause. For a moment, the demon rodeo could not be heard. But as the performers marched off the stage, waving and bowing to the fans, the noise died down and Ash could finally hear his own thoughts.

  “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” the boy said, dead serious. “As soon as I’m done with my current mission. But for now, it’s really important that you leave me to it.”

  “Oh, I get it,” Aralia replied, turning her body to the side. “You don’t think a punk girl like me could be of any help to you on your super important mission.”

  “No, that’s not it,” Ash replied, distraught. “It’s just that it could end up getting pretty dangerous is all. I’m only looking out for Uverstarr’s and your safety.”

  “Uverstarr and I can handle ourselves,” said the girl, facing Ash once more with a determined look. “We could help you. Five is better than three, right?”

  “I’d rather not risk your guy’s lives,” Ash replied, trying to avoid her puppy-dog eyes. He spotted a sign with an arrow pointing down a nearby path. The sign read Demon Rodeo, and Ash decided it was time to make his move. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll come talk to you later.”

  The boy waved goodbye and turned to go. He started walking, hoping the girl wouldn’t follow. He moved across a narrow walking path that cut across an elevated cliff face like a catwalk. He passed over stone buildings carved right into the rocky landscape, passing shoppers and vendors, parents and children. Every couple minutes he’d glance behind him and spot the orphan girl still following several meters behind him.