The next time they heard footsteps approach, they were ready. Callan moved the little girl, who still had not woken up, into Nogars’ care. Then he had Remy, Brine and Haldan, who was still feeling the effects of his earlier bout, stand in front of them protectively, blocking the girl from view. Mareet stood to one side of their little pincer formation while, Forgis, begrudgingly stood at the other. Callan stood in the center, his hands behind his back in a relaxed regal posture, ready to welcome the demons when they came.
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Their stance was an adaptation of a battle formation he had learned at the military academy. It forced the opponent to come at them from the front instead of surrounding and isolating them like they had last time. It would have been more effective if they had any real weapons, but all they had were rocks and stones. Still, last time they had been caught by surprise and their fear had overwhelmed them. This time Callan was determined to not make the same mistakes.
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As before, the red flamehead arrived with a group of six other demons. However, Callan noted that the demon he had called Entol was not with them. It seemed like the demon’s reaction to Callan’s pleas had some effect after all. The orange demon bent the prison bars open, and they stepped in. The red noted their formation and grinned at them mockingly. Callan grinned back observing something else that he had not noticed before. Apart from the red, none of the other demons seemed to show any signs of self-awareness. There was no scanning of their opponents, no derisive smiles, no tense movement of heads or limbs before a scrimmage. In fact, there was absolutely no expression on their faces and no reactions in their bodies. They were not even looking at the humans. They simply stared vacantly towards the back of the cave or the ceiling or the floor, slumped in their stances. Callan realized what they reminded him of, puppets.
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The red must have read something in Callan’s expression because his scornful smile slipped. It walked up to Callan till its chest was inches away from his nose, the smell of rotting skin more revolting that up close and looked down at him.
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“Well, prince. Are you going to try to fight us again?”
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Callan met its gaze, while his hands played with the sharp stones he was clutching in his palms behind his back.
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“Captain,” Callan replied in the disdainful voice he reserved for an insubordinate underling. “It’s Captain Pelegrin to you, demon.”
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The demon did not like his tone and caught Callan’s throat in its claws.
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“Seems like you have a death wish after all, Captain.” It spat as he tried to raise Callan’s body in the air.
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But Callan was waiting for it, eyeing the small rip of skin in its neck that exposed the soft muscles of his throat underneath. Fighting the breathlessness, he shot his right hand out and dug the piece of shrapnel he was holding into the wound, pulling his arms down savagely. A chunk of the flesh ripped from the demon’s neck, spraying Callan’s face with warm blood. The demon howled in pain, released Callan, and backed away clutching his neck. Callan grinned with satisfaction.
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So, they can be hurt. If that’s true, they can be killed too.
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More interestingly, none of the other demons moved to assist their leader. In fact, they had absolutely no reaction at all to Callan’s vicious attack.
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“So now you think you can hurt us, human?” The red growled, its claws still wrapped around its neck. “Maybe you think you can kill us too.”
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Then it laughed, a loud derisive chuckle that raised hackles on Callan’s arms. It released its neck. Callan and the rest of his party watched in fascinated dread as the large wound that he had torn across the demon’s neck and shoulders slowly sowed itself back up.
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“You cannot kill us, human, because we cannot die.” It smirked savagely. “But you can die. And I think I will kill you after all. Kill them all.” The red ordered and charged towards Callan.
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Callan spun out of the way but was not fast enough. The demon's claw dug into his back, tearing it open. Sharp pain lanced across his back and blood started soaking his tunic. Ignoring it, he circled around, stooped low and smashed his foot into the demons’ face with an audible crack. Behind him, he heard screams and growls as his men engaged the other demons. The red did not even flinch. It whipped its head and reached at him with his claws again. Callan dove between its legs, emerging on the other side and aimed a well-placed kick to the back of its knees. It buckled and fell, knees striking the ground first before it stopped its fall with its muscular arms. Callan was not having it. He kicked at the arm before the demon could react, and the demon’s body tilted to one side. Seeing his opportunity, he dug his knees to the base of its spine and sent it sprawling, face first, onto the floor, with Callan on top of it. Without thinking, he grabbed the red flaming hair and was pleasantly surprised, when it did not burn. He pulled back the demon’s head and pressed another shrapnel to its neck.
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“I may not be able to kill you,” he gritted savagely at the demon. “But I will cause you a world of pain, if you don’t order your puppets to back down.”
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Behind him, he heard Haldan’s scream of agony and then the Nogars’ yells of terror.
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“Now,” Callan shouted in the demon's ear.
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“Well done, Captain,” the demon replied in a conversational tone, as if it was not lying prone on its stomach with a dagger pressed to its neck. “But you are wrong. You are the one who is going to be in pain.”
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The demon’s arms revolved in its shoulders’ sockets. They reached out and grasped Callan’s neck before he could move out of the way. One of the sharp nails clipped his throat and a new trail of blood started oozing down his shoulders and chest as the demon threw him off like a rag doll. Callan landed on his side and felt pain shoot through his arm. The demon picked itself from the floor, agile as a shafu and stepped up to him and kicked him in the stomach with a foot. Callan coughed as the wind was knocked out of him. Then the demon’s other foot settled on his neck and started crushing it.
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“Captain,” he heard someone yell as he flailed helplessly for air. Spots started to appear in front of his vision and his heart started to slow down.
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“Captain, no.”
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“That’s enough,” a new voice commanded from somewhere behind him. “I said that’s enough, Merenthir.”
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The crushing feeling stopped, and air rushed into Callan’s lungs as the heavy weight of the demon’s foot was lifted off of him. He coughed violently for a while, his vision swimming from the sudden rush of oxygen to his brain. Then he stumbled on to his back, staring at the ceiling and breathing heavily, wondering how in Joha’s name was he still alive.
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A familiar, green-flamed head appeared in front of his eyes.
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“You really are a masochist, Prince Callan?” The bright grin on the upside-down face of the green demon was disorienting. “Why do you insist on trying Merenthir’s temper every time?”
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It stooped down and put its hands behind Callan’s back and arms, gently raising him up to the sitting position. Callan’s first reaction was to check the condition of his men. He was relieved to see none of them were dead, though they were all bloodied. Brine was holding on to his right forearm grimacing in pain and Haldan was slumped back down on the ground with his arms tightly wrapped around his bandaged chest. The girl, unconscious, was still with the Nogar, none of whom looked hurt. The demons, including the red, had backed away and now stood farther away from the humans. He saw the red give the green demon an intimidated look.
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“I am not going to let you take the girl,” he gritted at the green through the pain in his arm and back.
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“How noble?” it replied. “Fortunately, the girl is of no use to us now. Neither was her brother, as it turned out.”
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“What did you do to him?” Callan asked with furious disbelief. No use to them. After what they put the poor lad through? They are pure evil.
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“Ah.” It stood up. Callan followed him with suspicious eyes as it approached his men who were still standing in tight formation around the Nogar. Then it turned its head to look at him with an ominous smile. “You are a very curious man, Prince Callan, aren’t you? And very observant as well. Well, if you really want to know, I could give you a demonstration. How about with this one?” He turned to look at Brine. Brine’s face paled. “He is very interesting to me.”
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“No.” Callan pushed through the pain to climb to his feet, swaying a little where he was standing. “Take me.”
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“Oh, I will be taking you, Prince Callan. How else will you see the demonstration? But I need him for it.”
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“No.” His men reacted in unison, surrounding Brine immediately.
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“If you want him,” Remy spat. “You will have to go through us.”
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“This is not a request.” The green demon’s smile fell and its face hardened. It raised its hand. Callan saw his men’s eyes turn vacant and their expressions blanked, just like the puppet demons.
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“What did you do to them?” Callan demanded, horrified.
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“Don’t worry, prince. They will be back to their usual self soon. Well, all except this one.” It crooked a finger at Brine and the young soldier started walking towards it as if drawn by a string.
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“No.” Callan cried out, trying to step in to stop Brine, but the red demon stepped up behind him and gripped his arm holding him in place.
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Helplessly he watched as the green demon led Brine away like a mozi on a leash.
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“Merenthir, bring him along,” the green demon ordered as he stepped out of the barred cave with Brine in tow. “This should prove to be very educational for him.”
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Merenthir, the red demon, pushed him roughly towards the cave entrance. Heart thumping, he followed the demons out of the prison.
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The demons led them through a series of long narrow tunnels. As they walked, the patches of blue glowing moss grew denser and more frequent, sometimes covering entire sections of the walls and ceilings. At junctions, long fine tendrils hung from them like curtains, pulsing with sparks of blue light. The air was damp, and Callan was soon covered in sweat, which mingled with the wounds on his neck and back, making them burn. The sickly sweet smell of rotting meat hung like a foul smog in the air and along with the humidity, it started to become increasingly uncomfortable to breathe. Callan hoped the demons would lead them to an open area. He was desperate for some fresh air. But he doubted it considering that they did not seem to be affected by the suffocating surroundings. Several times, he tried to catch Brine’s eyes who was walking several feet in front of him. But the demons kept a relentless pace and from the stiff way Brine was walking, it seemed like he was still under the green’s spell. They crossed several chambers with more tunnels leading into different directions. Surprisingly, all of them were empty. Callan wondered where the rest of the demons were. There had been a much larger horde that had chased and captured them.
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Eventually, they came upon an archway built into the tunnel walls. The gate was built of large blocks of rough stones that seemed to have been glued together forming an arc. The front faces of the stone blocks were polished smooth so that they glinted in the light of two blue torches that hung on either side of the gate. Twisted ruins in a language Callan did not recognize had been carved into them. Beyond the gate, the tunnel was immersed in a dense blue fog. As they crossed the threshold of the arch, the green looked back and smirked at him.
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“Prince Callan of Faldora, welcome to my kingdom.”
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Callan’s blood chilled as the fog dissipated around him revealing a macabre gallery. Hundreds upon hundreds of human shapes of various sizes clung to the walls and ceilings, frozen in stone. Their limbs, heads and torsos were contorted in grotesquely impossible poses and their faces were twisted in howls of agony that reminded Callan of the screams he had heard. Veins pulsing with blue sparks wrapped around the figures like roots of a tree, joining and getting thicker the higher they went, vanishing into the distance. As they stepped deeper into the passage, the statues crowded around them. The details on them were too realistic to have been carved with mortal hands and Callan staggered in his step as a terrifying realization hit him.
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Are these all the humans they have abducted?
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“What is this?” He breathed through a dry throat.
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“These are my subjects.” The green demon stretched his hands out to stroke the heads of several children that were sticking out from the stone walls. “Mute, enduring and unfailingly loyal. The ideal subjects for a king. Wouldn’t you say Prince Callan?”
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Its touch was gentle, almost caressing, and it had a doting smile on its face, as if it was petting a pet. Callan shuddered, too horrified to reply.
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The maze of human sculptures opened into a circular chamber whose center was made up of a thick angular white column, carved with parallel horizontal and vertical ridges and grooves. Ruins, like those that had been engraved on the gate, were etched at the junction of the ridges. The ceiling of the chamber, Callan gaped, was made up of ropes of human statues strung together with limbs twisted around limbs, feet emerging out of cracked gaping mouths and hands clutching onto hair and torso. And everywhere, lips were open in screams of pain and horror. Thick trunks of blue ensnared these sculptures, wrapping around their bodies like giant serpents and thin tendrils spread from them covering their surfaces in webs. The thicker veins extended all the way to the central column and disappeared into it. Lights pulsed along these tendrils and trunks merging together as they flowed into the white column and were absorbed. Callan turned on his heels looking around in morbid fascination.
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“What do you think?” A whisper tickled the back of his ear. “Beautiful, isn’t it? I thought someone of your intellect will find this fascinating.”
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The green demon stood behind, grinning from ear to ear. Callan backed away. The demon walked up to the column and placed his palm on it.
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“You created this?” Callan asked.
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“We created a great many things, Prince Callan, wonders that to this day continue to astonish your kind. But this, this was our greatest achievement”, it stroked the surface lovingly, even as its voice became bitter and sorrowful, “until it was taken from us and defiled by the humans. But soon the day will come when we will regain all that we have lost.”
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Callan shuddered at its ominous words and the threat implied within it. If the stories were really true, if the demons were as powerful as the tales said, he couldn’t imagine the destruction they would wrought if freed upon the land.
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“Why?” Callan stepped towards the demon. “Why are you doing all this? What is it that you want?”
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The demon turned towards him. “Haven’t you been listening, Prince Callan? We want our home back.”
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“Your home? Do you mean these tunnels in the mountains? You can have it. No one even knows they exist. Why attack humans and kill them for it?”
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The green demon laughed, a menacing chuckle that reverberated through the chamber.
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“These tunnels? You think these tunnels are our homes?” Its face hardened into an expression of hatred and disgust. It rushed at Callan and grabbed his throat. “Our home is outside these infernal tombs. Our home is all Airaat. And we shall have it, all of it, even if we must cut down every single human in our path.” He then released his grip on Callan’s neck and smiled wickedly. “But that is not your concern Callan. You will not be alive to watch the destruction of your people.”
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Before Callan could retort, the demon turned away from him and clapped. “Well, I think it’s time to show Prince Callan what we do with humans. Fetch the sacrifice.”
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“Is that wise, Lanore?” Merenthir, the tall red demon, frowned at Callan.
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Lanore raised its eyebrows at it. “Do not question me, Merethir. Just do as you are told.”
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It was hard to tell due to its dark face, but Merenthir looked abashed at the admonishment. He gave his head a quick nod then shoved Brine towards Lanore. Brine was still under the spell Lanore had put on him, and he walked stiffly towards the green demon, stumbling in his steps, his face as slack and expressionless as before.
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“No.” Callan grabbed Brines’s arm. Brine struggled in his grip but there was no strength in it and Callan pulled him behind himself. “Don’t hurt him. Take me instead.”
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Lanore raised his hand at Merenthir, who had made a move towards Callan.
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“Prince Callan, I do admire your loyalty towards your men. It is quite touching, considering you are royalty, and he is merely a peasant. Unfortunately, I am saving you for something very important. So, for now, the poor peasant Brine will have to do.”
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Callan backed away towards the column, pushing Brine behind him as the rest of the demons surrounded them. Brine still did not show any sign of distress and Callan couldn’t make up his mind whether it was a good or bad thing. He furtively looked around himself trying to find any gaps in their formation which they could rush. Lanore stood to his left while Merenthir in front of him. Three demons were guarding his right. He knew he did not stand a chance against Merenthir and he had yet to learn of Lanore’s powers. Though, with the way Merenthir deferred to Lanore, it was reasonable to expect that Lanore was the stronger of the two. He decided to take his chances with his other three.
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He sprinted towards his right, hoping to surprise the demons with his charge long enough to break past them. Suddenly a fist buried into his side from behind, winding him. He clutched his sides, struggling to stay upright, as he felt Brine tear his hands away from his grip. The punch had reopened the wounds on his back, and they burned fiercely, further sapping away his will and energy. He shakily turned around to find Brine with his fist still raised at him poised for another blow.
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“Prince Callan, youngest captain in the history of newil Johastian army, looks like your men don’t hold the same loyalty for you,” Lorane mocked him.
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Brine’s expression had not changed, and Callan knew he was not in control of his actions. But, boy, did those sharp bony knuckles hurt.
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Lanore strolled up to Brine and wrapped his arms around the young soldier’s shoulders, while Callan felt the powerful grip of Merenthir on his own arms, rooting him to his spot.
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“Come along now little pet,” Lanore cooed, leading Brine towards one of the walls of the chamber that was covered in human sculptures.
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“No, please,” Callan cried out, struggling helplessly in Merenthir’s grip.
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Lanore beckoned two other demons to join the pair at the wall, then shoved Brine in between a small gap in the statutes. The two other demons clasped his hands and feet holding him in place.
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“I suppose Brine should get a chance to say his goodbyes.” Lanore turned around and smirked at Callan. “Tell you in his own words how disappointed he is with you for not keeping your oath to protect their lives.”
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It pressed its palm on Brine’s forehead and his face came back to life. The young soldier looked about himself in daze and then started struggling fervidly in fright.
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His eyes found Callan’s and he cried, “Captain, what is happening?”
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Callan, with a sudden burst of desperate willpower, tried to tear away from Merenthir’s grip. The red demon punched him on his other side, and he collapsed on his knees, his eyes watering.
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“Captain,” Brine shouted, his eyes bulging with fear. “Help me, Captain. Please. I do not want to die. My baby, Captain, my baby.”
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Tears streamed down Callan’s eyes. He tried to get up, but Merenthir yanked his hair in a fist and pressed his other hands heavily on his shoulders, keeping him down. Through teary eyes, Callan found himself watching Brine’s petrifying fate.
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The stone wall around Brine seemed to melt.
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“Vermick, come forth,” Lanore called out. “Your offering awaits.”
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A pair of hands emerged from the liquid stone, grasping Brine’s shoulders and throat, and started to pill him in.
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“No, no! Please, Joha, save me, no,” Brine screamed, thrashing against his restraints. Then suddenly, he howled in agony, as grey spikes started emerging out of his body. Blood dripped from his mouth and wounds as the spikes bent around him. His body shuddered violently, his screams of agony filled the entire hall, as inch by inch, he was pulled inside the wall. Callan squeezed his eyes shut but was unable to block the sound of torture. Finally, the screams stopped and when Callan opened his eyes again, Brine was gone.
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The portion of the wall, where Brine had disappeared, continued to swirl with ripples and then another figure emerged from it. Dark arm and claws, charcoal body and feet and a head ablaze with fiery blue eyes and hair. It stumbled out of the wall, straightened up and stretched its limbs and torso. Then it looked around its surroundings until its eyes found Lanore. It grinned.
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“Sanarthi Vermick, welcome back to the world of the living.” Lanore clasped the new demon's shoulders.
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Vermick bowed its head.
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“Take Vermick to the recovery chamber,” Lanore ordered the other two demons with it. “Rest my friend and recover. We will talk soon.”
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Vermick bowed its head again and started to follow the two demons out of the chamber. As it passed Callan, it looked down at him curiously and Callan gasped. The demon wore Brine’s face.
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“Brine,” Callan shouted. “Brine.”
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But the blue haired demon did not heed his call and continued walking, disappearing in between another maze of sculptures. Callan did not understand what had just happened. Had the demon killed Brine or just taken over its body? It had not recognized him as the Entol-demon had. Was there any essence of Brine still left inside it?
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“Well, Prince Callan?” Lanore asked him with a pleased smile. “Ingenious, isn’t it?”
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“Ingenious?” Callan spat in his helpless fury. “You call this ingenious? This is depraved.”
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Lanore bent down to his height and gripped his chin. Its lips were split in a demented grin. “And who do you think is responsible for it? You. You humans did this to us. And now you will revive us.”
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Callan’s eyes widened in enlightened surprise.
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These sculptures. They are not humans. They are demons.
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“And now, I think it's time you fulfilled your purpose.” Lanore shoved his face aside savagely and stood up.
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Merenthir grabbed him by his shoulders and hoisted him. Callan swayed with weakness, his blood-soaked tunic sticking to his back. The red demon twisted his arms, gripping it with one hand and then shoved him with the other. Callan hissed in pain as the demon’s claws contacted his wounds and stumbled forward. Lanore and Merethir started leading him in the opposite direction of the tunnel through which they had entered the chamber. Callan wondered what horror was in store for him. But his mind kept wandering to Brine’s desperate plea for help and the promise he had given the young man. Now his child would never know its father. How stupid he had been to even consider this mission? How arrogant to think, he could save these people let alone the rest of the Meyrin? All he had managed was to get his men killed, one after another, all those men who had a wife, a son, a daughter, a father, or a mother waiting for them, depending on them back home. In his pride, he had not only destroyed the life of his men but their families as well. And now he was going to die, screaming, and writhing in pain, in these damp dark demon infested tunnels and no one would ever know what happened to him. There was no one waiting for him back home. He had severed those ties long ago. But still, he had hoped one day he would find someone of his own to come home to and now that would never happen. He remembered his promise to Eachen and laughed silently.
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Not engage the demons, huh? Well, we are engaged alright and none of us are going to survive it.
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He wondered if Eachen would be able to convince the conciliary to send help, and even if they did, would they be able to stand against the might of the demons. And at last, he thought of Tyrin and that maybe he deserved his fate after all.
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Callan had not been paying attention to where the demons had been taking him. So, he nearly crashed into Lanore when their party suddenly came to a halt. The green demon turned around, mouth agape and its eyes ablaze.
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“What is it?” Merenthir asked anxiously from behind him.
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“Tarakeen. Tarakeen calls for help.”
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Then Lanore disappeared. Callan blinked. The green demon had simply vanished into the air. Feeling his hands were no longer restrained, Callan whirled around, to find that no one behind him either. Merenthir and the rest of the demons had disappeared as well, and he was left standing alone in the dark tunnel.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
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