The Trial: Journey's End

Written by: AtheistBasementDragon

Edited by: The Usual Gang of Drunken Perverted Idiots

Chapter 29: Demons

...Crescent Lake...

Bertra didn't lock the door to her shop even though it was closed. Instead she went about preparing tea. A smile on her face as she hummed pleasantly, her slender frame swept over the floor on graceful feet, her dress the color of sunlight with green accents, she was like sunlight shining through the leaves of the great trees above.

She laid out some sweet lemon infused biscuits, and turned a tiny frown down at them, 'Not as good as Nazarick.' She thought, and put aside the thought, nothing was, after all, and if he'd never been, well he didn't know what he was missing. Her tiny frown, with little corners of her lips turned down, reversed themselves, as she reminded herself, 'But I made them myself.' It was a point of pride, as a former scripture, she remembered fieldcraft, but never mastered true cooking.

When she'd finished laying everything out, she wiped her brow in a mockery of exertion and put her hands on her hips with her feet shoulder width apart and looked down at her handiwork. A perfectly set table for two a few feet away from the table where they'd be working on more of Lovien's manuscript.

She looked over her shoulder, the table there had inkwell, ink, a set of quills, red ink for her to mark corrections to his work, and... a bottle of unopened wine.

She briefly wheeled about and picked up the manuscript, it had improved... considerably, she brushed back her golden hair and flipped through the pages, his work was far better than she thought it would be based on his early statements. Now... days later, he scribbled over the pages like a man possessed, slapping them down one after another, requiring less and less input, and earning more and more praise as she played her little part and used the enchanted red ink to modify a few things here or there on the pages.

She never knew what impulse made her do it, when she had clearly reached unused pages... but for a reason unknown to her, she took the last page from the bottom of the stack, and found something written there. "Dedicated to those I lost, but also to the one who made it possible to find their memories, and make them live again. My golden angel in the bookshop."

She blinked... reread it, blinked again, and reread it. She was at once deeply moved, and deeply disturbed, and deeply hopeful. 'Can I... even really think of it? Do I dare? What do I tell him? Am I reading too much into this, after all, he doesn't express anything 'loving'. I'm overthinking things, he's just a friend.' She vowed then to put it from mind, replaced the page, and set it down just as she heard the door jingle at the entrance to her shop.

"Hello!" The familiar masculine voice said, and Lovien breezed through and walked toward the back.

"Back here!" Bertra said and stepped into view in the doorway, the lights were bright, and the tan wood reflected it easily, giving it all a golden hue. She drew back the chair from behind it, and gestured to the spot for himself. "Be seated, and let's get to work. Remember, complete a chapter with fewer than six mistakes, and I'll crack open that bottle after we've had tea."

He grinned brightly, "I'll earn that bottle before I'm done, and if I don't, maybe I'll come back to write another book."

"I'd like that, but... I'd like to have at that wine too." She said and waved her right hand toward the bottle as she rested her head on the palm of her left hand, "keeping a pretty girl from a drink is probably a crime under Queen Zesshi's rule... just pointing that out now."

Lovien laughed, "Well, better get it right then," he said and bit his lip as he wrote, staring intensely at the page, as if daring the ink to make or the paper to keep, a single mistake.

Page after page was slid over to her, until he'd finished three whole chapters, each one she despaired of him meeting the minimum, until the third of the evening, an oddly positive chapter, a rare moment in his life when he'd been happy. She marked five mistakes, fixing them quickly, and then without a word, she reached over to the bottle, and slid it over to him.

"Congratulations, you did it. Tonight, we can drink." Bertra said pleasantly.

"It's been a long time since I've had anything but... sure, I nipped the occasional taste when I was... North." Lovien remarked with a mischievous grin that made his face light up like a young boy who had managed to snag a pie off the window sill.

"Well..." Bertra looked over at the tea and the lemon biscuits and her mouth turned up with a moment's thought before it relaxed again. "No, you're right, we can have tea later and we have it every day, why put this off?" She asked pleasantly.

She reached for a pair of cups, and set one down in front of each of them, then popped the cork and let it fall carelessly to the floor and strike her foot before it rolled away. She poured the rich, dark liquid into the two cups, and then raised it up. "To all wonderful creations to come, whether they tell stories that immortalize the lost, or inspire hope for the future, or both."

"I'll drink to that." He said pleasantly and touched his cup to hers, then brought it to his lips, and she did the same with her own, and they drank happily.

They were still drinking happily, when they'd finished off the third bottle, and getting quite drunk. Bertra was laughing, even giggling, enjoying the youth this elven body had restored to her, when she leaned in to say... something, and suddenly her eyes flew open as she felt Lovien's lips press to hers.

His lips felt warm, enticing, inviting. For a moment, she allowed herself to savor attention that she hadn't had in years, to let his hands wander as he drew her closer, her breathing quickened and her heart beat faster, and she felt his own do the same. She felt his desire rising, and her own with it... but yet...

'Can I do this? Should I? I'm still... I'm one of the ones who had a hand in all the harm his people suffered... how would I feel if I knew I was with someone like that? No... I shouldn't, I need time to process this." She managed to think more clearly, though she felt her limbs struggle to respond through the alcohol induced haze.

'No, I need to stop this.' Bertra thought urgently, and when the kiss broke from her lips and she felt his mouth go to her sensitive ear, and the shiver of sudden pleasure ran through her as he touched a place so intimate, and his tongue trace down her neck, she struggled, and succeeded, to get out the words.

"Lovien... no. We need to stop... I can't... I..." She began, only to feel his body press harder to her.

"It's fine... you want this as much as I do... I can feel it..." He whispered roughly, and his hand came to her breast.

'If I weren't drunk... this would be easy, I'm a scripture damn it... how can this be happening to me...?!' Bertra felt his hand on the small of her back, slide over her ass and grip.

"Lovien... no! I can't... please!" She urged as she tried to push him away as he frantically drew her closer. She caught sight of his damaged ear, and a surge of guilt rushed over her as he pressed her further back toward the wall when he took her briefly paused resistance to be consent.

...Menowa...

On the third day of construction, there were even more workers, and even more skilled craftsmen. The shopkeepers who sold food, had independently decided to start bringing their food out to the area to sell, so Nua offered an extra copper to the laborers who ate on site. The work was proceeding rapidly, with the temple beginning to take shape, and during meals, Nua preached the will of her lord. She told stories of the butcher and the merciful, she told stories of the nightmare who was on trial not twenty yards from where they worked, and she spoke... of course... of Raymond.

"He shed blood for me, he threw his life, his power, his everything away, not only for me, but for all my people, because he thought it was right! What is wealth, what is power, what is justice..." She stopped in midsentence when she saw a hand shoot up.

"Yes?" She asked in annoyance from atop her box.

"That the same Raymond who is testifying today?" The shopkeeper asked.

Nua felt her eyes bug out of her head. "It... excuse me!" She said, and jumped off the box and ran for the pavilion as fast as her legs could move.

The crude and often broken stones vanished rapidly behind her, and she ran so hard that she skidded to a stop and slammed shoulder first into the entryway, and looked out over the audience. Numerous horns great and small filled her vision, but far down below, she managed to pick out two familiar figures at opposite tables. 'So it's true... some really did turn on her.' She felt a flash of pity for the Demon of the West, but that vanished in an instant when all thought focused on one man.

He was thinner, weaker looking than before, but dressed in his best, with a neatly trimmed beard, and he spoke with the same iron conviction that made anyone who was near him, stand up and listen.

Her hands flew to her mouth as it fell open and she shook her head in awe. 'It's you... it's really you... oh by god, you really are alive!' She felt her breath quicken, her heart pound, her entire body tingled and come alive in a way she hadn't felt since the day she left him behind and walked out of Kami Miyako.

She leaned hard against the stone, unable to truly stand as the scene played over in her mind, parting ways with Enlaith and Misu, walking alone on the long great road, the people she'd met, the things she'd done... she almost walked away.

'It's enough. Enough to know he's alive for now, I can come to him alone later, seek a private audience...' She stopped herself in midthought.

'No... that's something the old Nua would have done, afraid to be seen, afraid to be heard... I'm not that now, let him hear me.' She said, and straightened up, he hadn't seen her, he was looking up at the adjudicator.

She took a deep breath, held her hands up to her mouth so that it was open and would echo louder, and she leaned forward part way, then shouted in a voice to tell the heavens themselves she was there. "Raymond! Raymond Zarg Larrenson!" She yelled as loud as she could, heads started to turn, she didn't give a damn. "I told you! I told you! You did it Raymond! I'm free! I'm free and I made it out! And I told you I'd find you again!" Quizzical looks met her from thousands of faces... from all over the empire.

Raymond turned away from where he looked from the podium, and his mouth parted for words that he couldn't say yet.

Not until she started to run.

Nua bounded down the stairs like a deer through high grass, and as she did so, Raymond stepped away from the podium, snapped his arms out as far as the chains on his wrists allowed them to go, and rushed over the stone beneath, meeting her at the base where stairs met stage.

She flung herself forward and embraced him. "I told you! I told you I'd find you again one day you big dummy." Nua felt happy tears run down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him against her.

"Nua... Nua, I can barely... I don't even know what to say... I hoped but, well I never thought I'd see you again." He said with a cracked and broken voice. "I heard you were alive, that you'd been doing well for yourself, but I had no idea you were here of all places!"

"Ahem..." Demiurge stood up and looked over at the pair, "I'm sure there is some touching story shared between the Cardinal and the freed slave... but I believe we have testimony to hear?"

That brought them both back to reality, and Nua stepped away from him, back to where the steps were, and stood patiently watching. Not seating herself, not moving, only watching as he allowed a minotaur guard to escort him back to the podium.

"Apologies for the... interruption." Raymond said, "As I was saying, the problem as we saw it was that we needed more strong humans, so it was proposed that in our alliance with the Elf King we allow him..."

...Devor Empire...

Caxacta walked the fort as evening set in. The sun was slowly descending across the sky, and the 'spare' had been selected, and when the sun went down, it would be time for the ritual. He looked over into the forest. Not a sound to speak of that shouldn't be there. Cut thirty feet back, the damn tree held no predators that could take him. The enormous bearman yawned as boredom began to follow the passage of tedious minutes.

The stakes of the fort were twice as tall as the tallest minotaur, and within, the captives were all chained to stakes that were deeply embedded into the ground and enchanted for good measure. From within, there was still the music of weeping and wailing. Minotaur captives called for their loved ones or tried to quiet their crying children. He snorted. "Stupid cows." he muttered. He felt a slight rumble to his stomach at a particular wail.

The gate opened nearby, a large tigerman emerged, "Good haul, not a great hall, but a good haul." The tigerman said.

"Yeah..." Caxacta remarked, but you know, "Motecu... the ones who were supposed to go to the fortress haven't come back yet, what do you think is taking them so long?"

The tigerman scratched his face as he thought it over. "Don't know, maybe they ran into some real resistance and all got killed?"

The thought hung in the air, and then neither could hold the straight face and they started laughing. "Very funny, very funny Motecu. Alright, your shift, keep an eye on those 'dangerous trees' they look ready to attack." Caxacta replied with a wink as he went inside and the gate closed behind him, leaving the Tigerman alone to look for escapees that couldn't exist.

Darkness began to cover the land, and as it did, he watched the lionwoman, Captain Tlamix, approach the area where the minotaurs sat, chained and lowing like the cattle they were.

"It's time. Get over here." She said in the rough growl that lionmen all had. She unchained a minotaur woman, who stood from the group with slow resignation.

"You'll keep your word? Mu'Trieu will live?" The minotaur asked.

"She will not be eaten, this I promise, that is the value of the sacrifice." She said calmly.

A young minotaur child was wailing relentlessly as her mother pushed her gently into the arms of another, "No! No! Mama! Mama!" She struggled and kicked in the arms of another female.

"Look after Mu'Trieu... someone..." The now unchained minotaur woman said, and stepped away, the child was the only one of them still making noise as they were frozen in uncertainty.

A few feet away, there was a large stone table, and the minotaur woman followed the lioness captain over to it, she did not resist as the scant clothing she had was torn away, and she obeyed when the lioness pointed to it.

With glistening eyes, the cattle lay passively on the table, and looked up at the stars that were just coming out, as if they were an audience come to watch her.

Captain Tlamix stood over her as the various types of beastmen gathered around, not far away, Mu'Trieu was still crying out, but through the crowd, neither could mother see daughter, nor daughter see mother.

Rumbling and growling in various tones went up. "Oh father sun and mother moon! We feast as you feast, eat as you eat, and live as you will it! To give you strength to rise again, we give blood to your bride, that she may feed you. As you feast on the blood of our sacrifice, we will feast on her flesh, so that we too, may rise strong again with you. Accept this willing offering of blood, and know that we are faithful and strong!"

"Faithful and strong!" The crowd of beastman warriors echoed.

The lionman looked down at the unrestrained, naked minotaur woman who just kept staring blankly up at the sky. She didn't shift at all until Captain Tlamix loomed over her face.

"This is minotaur courage. Get a good look... because one day, someone like me will come to kill you all." The minotaur sacrifice said, and took a deep breath.

'Yeah... that'll be the day. What could possibly challenge the three?' Tlamix wondered with a humorous dismissal, and then she brought her claw down at the center of the woman's chest, and sliced it straight down. The passive minotaur let out a cry of pain as her flesh tore, and Captain Tlamix swiftly reached in, wrenched open the ribcage, and tore out her beating heart as she thrashed on the altar.

A few feet away, the child minotaur was screaming in horror at the sound of her mother's dying agony, and the rest were transfixed, mute with horror as they saw the heartbeat its last in the hand that held it aloft.

It turned to ash and was horrifically gone, blown away in the wind as the captain used her magic. Then and only then did the captive minotaurs bemoan their fates ever more loudly.

"Now... drain the blood, and eat the rest!" Tlamix shouted brusquely.

The younger ones went in first, bearing the clay jars they'd need to catch the blood, while the older ones cut where they knew they needed to. Others made space between themselves and the minotaurs, to ensure the prisoners could see what was happening.

Their terror would keep them quiet. Caxacta relaxed as he saw their spirits start to break. 'Four raids now, and not once have I seen the cattle's spirits rise after they got to witness this. Stupid cattle, you'd think one would have the will to fight back.'

Caxacta shook his head dismissively, and when the jars were carried away, the carving up of the meat began, pieces of flesh were handed off, passed around, until everyone had gotten something. More than a few went over to where the minotaur captives were crouched on the ground, and ate in front of them, just to further exacerbate the terror they were instilling.

Some had gone completely catatonic. When it was done, all that lay on the altar were bloody bones, which the one Caxacta recognized as 'Mu'Trieu' stared at blankly with enormous unblinking eyes.

The skull detached from the spine, and fell with a thud to the ground, before tilting over and facing where her daughter sat, with empty eye sockets staring blankly at the one she'd died for.

...Outside the fort...

"You heard everything... didn't you?" Mu'Ulm asked softly from where he and Neia crouched in hiding after they withdrew further into the forest.

She nodded. "I did, but the time wasn't right."

"You didn't save her because the time isn't right?" Mu'Ulm asked with a rumble of unhappiness.

"That's right." Neia folded her arms in front of her defensively. "I can't see in there, if I used my father's aura indiscriminately, there's a good chance I could have killed the captives. Or there might have been something in there that could fend it off, there are a lot of strange powers in this world, and I am not a god. Remember, doing that tears me apart, what if I use it, and then we're surprised by someone else and I can't fight anymore? What if someone else in there is a Hellwalker and can resist powerful auras? Too many unknowns, and even with this equipment, I doubt the two of us alone can take on that many when they're on guard."

Mu'Ulm's body relaxed visibly and he sat on a low branch, "So now she's dead, what do you want to do?"

"We wait, there's a hierarchy of priorities for a soldier, and these are clearly professionals, in an entrenched position, if we want to kill them all, we need to wait for them to get to the last priority. Sleep. They've just eaten..." Neia said with disgust, paused, and then went on, "so that won't be long. Once they're asleep, we can begin to strike. There was no evidence of ranged weapons at the fortress, so I doubt they have any here."

"So?" Mu'Ulm asked doubtfully.

"So..." Neia grinned and patted her bow, "this."

He went very quiet, though not from confidence, still coated with blood, her face looked more like that of a beastman than a human. It wasn't anything she did, every move was tranquil, quiet, almost like an evil force that was serene and content with itself.

The hours passed in silence until pitch black was everywhere. "Now we go." She said, stepping smoothly over and ducking under branches, while Mu'Ulm struggled somewhat with his size, horns, and equipment, and she slowed down to give him time to catch up.

They reached the edge and Neia drew out her bow and nocked an arrow. "First... we whittle them down a little." She said softly, and watched, counting the guards that patrolled the outside.

"No upper platforms, no towers, we'll take a few down here, first." Neia whispered. "When I take the first one down, you run up quietly, grab the body, and get it back this way. They're not in line of sight of each other, so we can wipe out the whole group one at a time."

Mu'Ulm huffed softly, and watched as the bow was drawn, and the arrow loosed. "Go." She said.

He looked, the beastman was still standing.

"I hit him, just do it." Neia said softly, and Mu'Ulm stood and began to rush forward, a second later, the beastman fell forward limply as the arrow pierced his brain.

Mu'Ulm snatched the body, it was a bearman, he mentally groaned, but hefted the beast onto his back, and ran hard and fast back towards Neia's position.

He saw her drop, and he imitated her gesture, the darkness covering him, he prayed to Kiril that it wasn't one of the catmen coming around the side of the fort, with their perfect night vision, it would be impossible to hide.

He glanced over his shoulder, relieved when he saw it was a pandaman.

It went past, and he rushed back to Neia's position, rolling the corpse past her.

"Hurry up, go get the next one!" Neia whispered fiercely, and he turned around to see she had already popped up to a kneeling position and sent another arrow flying.

He wheeled about and rushed forward as if chasing the arrow, which in a sense, he was. The pandaman took the hit through the brain like the last one, and so it went, until there were five bodies lying behind where Neia had hidden herself.

Mu'Ulm grunted out a heavy, "Now what?" and crouched down beside her.

"We get the next shift." Neia said as if it were obvious. "That will buy us an hour or two, depending on how long their patrol shifts are."

An hour later, the gate opened, and five replacements emerged, shut the gate behind them, and waited for someone to come around the corner to relieve.

Neia smiled coldly as she popped up to a kneeling position. [Snakeshot] She said, and loosed an arrow into which she had imbued some of her mana. It went forward, tearing through the left temple of the one on the far left, then straight through the rest, only the one on the far right had a moment to understand that something had happened, and he turned to see his friends falling, just in time to take the arrow in his eye, and die.

Mu'Ulm watched, impressed, as she stood up and began to walk toward the fort. "That buys us an hour, and now there are ten less."

"Why not wait for the next shift to replace them? Maybe we could just do that all night and get a good forty of them?" Mu'Ulm proposed.

Neia shook her head, "No, someone will notice that nobody came back in, and then they'll be on guard."

"Now, get their weapons if they've got any, seems a lot of these like to use claws, but I'm pretty sure I saw some of them used spears and swords." Neia ordered brusquely as they came closer to the simple fort.

Mu'Ulm followed the order, and had a bundle of spears and a sword in one hand, there was little to be had, but it wasn't hard to work out what was going to happen, and every little advantage helped.

[Ability Boost] Neia whispered, and jumped up to the sharp tipped wooden wall, landing carefully balanced on top of it. She pulled out another arrow, and scanned for targets. Tents were plentiful, a handful of guards loomed over minotaurs who were flopped out unconscious, sleeping, passed out, or simply catatonic. There was a small female one staring blankly still at a skull that stared blankly back at her.

Neia thought back to the war with Jaldabaoth, the boy the Sorcerer King had killed when the demihumans had used him as a hostage. 'Sacrifice one, to save many...' She thought sadly, it would be cold comfort for her to know that her mother hadn't been rescued, in order to ensure everyone else could be.

The beastmen that stood near the Minotaurs were all variations of felinemen, tigers, lions, panthers... but they were few, and Neia was coated with beastmen blood. Outside, Mu'Ulm was no doubt already coating himself with beastman blood to disguise his scent.

She nocked an arrow, and sent it skyward, it came down, and shattered a jar just out of their line of sight.

She used their brief distraction to jump down, and open the gate slightly to admit Mu'Ulm, they raced quietly along the outskirts of the interior.

They came to the first tent, Neia put her finger to her lips, and the behemoth behind her slowed down. She pointed to the second tent, and then to him. He moved to the rear of it. She then pressed her ear close to the fabric, listening with care. He did the same, and then he set the weapons aside, and drew the white ax.

She stowed her bow and drew her sword, cutting the fabric was easy, and he did the same. The tearing was very slight, the sound of cursing from where the jar had shattered drowned out that little noise.

Mu'Ulm didn't need to be told what to do, he looked around the tent, there was the sound of snoring. One by one, he silenced it. He put his axe to throat after throat, cutting off the vocal cords so that even though they awoke at the sudden pain, they couldn't shout for help, with his enormous strength, he held them fast, ensuring that the last thing their eyes saw, was the hateful glare of a minotaur staring down at them.

There were eight alive in the tent when he entered, there were none alive when he went back out the way he came.

He emerged a moment later, to find Neia stepping out at the same time.

They could hear the sound of conversation among the ones watching the minotaur villagers.

"What the hell is this thing?" A catman asked, holding up the arrow to his companions.

"Beats me, but it's got an adamantite tip, so it must be something of ours, nobody else has access to that anywhere near here other than us." Another answered. "That what broke the jar?"

A low growl met that, "No, it's soaked with blood because it wanted to take a bath and the jar just broke with it in the middle of it. Whatever it is, it isn't natural, someone made this, and someone used it. I think we'd better wake the Captain."

"Really...?" One of the guards answered unhappily.

"Over that little thing?" Another added.

"No you twits, over whatever used it, we might have an infiltrator here." The more cautious one replied.

"It's not a minotaur weapon, look at how small it is. It's like it was made for the long pigs." One of them said dismissively.

"Maybe it has something to do with why our comrades from the fortress raid are slow getting back. I don't like this. Go alert the guards at the gate, ask if they've seen anything suspicious. I'll go wake the captain." The cautious one replied, then added, "And don't let the cattle move."

Mu'Ulm wanted to laugh as he cut another throat in his third tent as he listened to them go on. 'The arrogance... oh, the arrogance... fools, foolish foolish fools...' He thought as a pantherman died under his ax.

When he emerged, again in time with the bloody human, she held up a jar and opened it. He looked at her with questioning eyes, and she opened the top. The smell of hard liquor hit him, and he understood. He began to look for similar jars, and finding a few, the two of them went to additional tents, and began to douse them. The smell of blood and death so close to those who were awake, minimized the smell of alcohol as they frantically worked in shadows.

Neia then took a rope from nearby, soaked it in the substance, and tossed it lightly into the darkness, letting it land softly on a tent she'd doused. Mu'Ulm waited, crouched behind supplies as she made ready. When she was done, she pointed from him to the gate, and struck a fighting pose, then pretended to make a war cry.

He grinned. 'So... I'm the bait am I? Fine. This bait bites back.'

She held up her hand and pantomimed chopping at the tents where some still lived in alcohol tainted tents.

He nodded silently and drew his ax, and then she held up five fingers, and counted down, four... three... two... one... and then he ran, his ax swung out and sliced the ropes holding the tents up, just as shouting went up from the gate, Neia snatched up a torch from where it sat casting a dim light on the other side of their position, and threw it to the base of the alcohol soaked rope. The flame sprang up and raced along, bursting into wild flame and going from one tent full of beastmen to the next in rapid succession.

Mu'Ulm ran by firelight to the entrance of the gate where the bodies were discovered, and he bellowed out something not heard on Devor ground for over two hundred years, a minotaur warcry.

Massive by any standards, Mu'Ulm was a wall of minotaur muscle and within the flesh, a mountain of rage, he cut down the cheetahman that stood shouting the alarm at the entrance, sending his head spinning away, the camp sprang to the alarm as Neia rushed back, grabbed several weapons, and hid herself to wait as Mu'Ulm drew attention to himself.

"Kiril's Wrath descends on all your fucking heads!" He shouted with rage and held the white ax in his hand and braced himself with his massive shield. He let loose with two more war cries before the beastmen came enough to their senses to respond with aggression at the sudden emergence of a Minotaur Champion.

He clashed the ax against the magic shield and the beastmen began to respond, within the collapsed tents, screaming and pain were evident, and Neia quickly moved among the fallen tents that burned those within, and thrust her adamantite sword into moving bodies, while the remainder of the camp fell on the lone minotaur warrior that dared to challenge the might of the beastmen.

The minotaur captives snapped out of their nightmare dreams and woke to one in reality, unable to move, unable to truly see at first, they cried and screamed for help, the elder protecting the younger, the mothers and mothers to be protecting their young, until at last they came to realize it was one of their own that was doing the killing.

Fire danced over the raging bull's face as he swung his ax and beastmen died, he bashed them hard enough with his enchanted shield that more than one went flying off with broken limbs, and it was as though the spirit of Kiril had descended on one of their number.

Neia grinned, 'I knew he'd be good at this.' She drew her bow and began pumping arrows into the backs of those who struggled to get in on the behemoth, arrows sprang from heads and they dropped like mayflies whose time had come, she killed a dozen more before anyone realized she was there.

It was the captives who realized it first when they heard the voice.

"Break and fall one and all..." She put power into her words, the horrible reverberation of the evangelist was impossible to miss as she walked closer, firing arrow after arrow, putting down the guards who struggled between their obligation to guard the prisoners and the urge to fight.

When they fell with arrows in their skulls, Neia stood over their corpses, bloodstained face and body reflected in the light of the flames of the camp, she looked down at them, "Come with me, if you want to live." She reached down to the waist of a guard and yanked a key loose, and tossed it to one of the dumbstruck minotaurs.

The beastmen were hammering away at Mu'Ulm, who stubbornly refused to show his back, and kept them in front of his shield, but some at the rear recognized the threat that emerged unexpectedly from the behind, the minotaur prisoners worked frantically to unlock their chains, and Neia pointed to the small number of weapons she'd dropped nearby.

Out of arrows, she drew her blade and whispered, [Endurance of Unlife][Death Grip][Grim Hand][Agility Boost][Wrath and Retribution] And the eyes of blue became black voids in which only red points glowed to fill those who saw them, with utter terror.

"Kill them all! Kill them all! Kill them all!" She shouted in her wrath, and flung herself at the handful that were charging the minotaur prisoner area and this new and unlooked for, unfamiliar enemy. Her sword cut through the first, and she ducked beneath a claw only to, with the grace of a dancer, spin and leap upward, thrusting the blade through the neck of her attacker and with the strength of the undead, propel him onto his back and use his body as a springboard to land on the lionwoman who caught her.

The lionwoman was powerful, and knocked Neia's sword from hand, proving long training and deadly skill, but the momentum of the human who, in defiance of the natural order, had pounced on her, carried her onto her back, and Neia's thumbs found glowing golden eyes. They got one good look at the void and red points, before the thumbs came down, and pushed eyes of gold down into the skull, hooked behind the bone, and pulled apart, opening the head and spilling the brain like the contents of a melon being cut open.

Mu'Ulm's eyes had gone red with battle mania, berserker rage had more than tripled his already considerable strength, his ax ignored their armor, their weapons could not pierce his shield and what blows did come in, seemed to simply glance off his breastplate, and his bashing with the big round shield broke limbs through flesh and sent deadly bearmen crawling away in hopes of safety that no longer existed.

The powerful beastmen felt their strength sapped by the cursed voice that ripped through their souls, and more became aware that they were under attack from both sides.

Shouting increased, and the desperate minotaur villagers, having freed themselves, snatched up the weapons, and ran like figures possessed of unholy hatred, flames spread wildly by stray sparks, as if the very fire itself hated the Devor, tents were alight, and the unthinkable nightmare did not begin to die, until the courage of the beastmen broke, and they tried to flee.

The beastmen were still ten or twenty in number, and they ran from Mu'Ulm and the hopeless notion of getting through the gate, and ran from the Minotaurs, rushing toward the rear wall thinking to leap or climb, if they could be said to think at all, and then, and only then... was the coup de grace engaged, when she was sure there was nobody she wanted to rescue that would fall by foolish accident.

The mountain of her father's aura crashed down on the handful of beastmen, casting them down to the ground, roaring in pain at the pressure and the noise of the thunder in their ears.

Neia felt her flesh begin to rip from the exertion, but against so few... it was manageable with relative ease. She approached them one by one, and shoved her sword through their backs, piercing lungs or hearts.

The minotaur prisoners, eager to exact retribution, went to participate, only for the giant in the impossible armor to order loudly, "No!" they hesitated, though twitching at the hooves to move.

Finally there was only one left alive.

One that seemed very strong, as she could still move. "Pl-ease." The vaguely feminine voice had the gall to say.

Neia knew the sound, the one conducting the ritual they could hear beyond the wall, the one giving orders.

The lioness managed to raise her head, with great struggle and effort, and looked with dismay at the face framed and reflected by dancing flames. "Human... a mere human..." She looked into the whorling void as Neia wiped her blade contemptuously on the lion woman's fur, and sheathed her blade.

The human's hands went under her chin and held her up, so that she could not help but see the points of red light. "I see you... I will always... see you." She smiled almost lovingly, and spoke in a gentle voice, and the lionwoman began to scream as the pain ripped through her body when Neia's fingers tightened, and another life was ended.

Neia cut off the aura, and walked slowly over to where Mu'Ulm was standing with the captives.

The minotaur villagers stood, staring in mute fascination between the two unexpected rescuers.

"Good job, Mu'Ulm." Neia said and held out her hand.

Mu'Ulm took it proudly and shook it firmly. "We have shed blood together. I said this before when you spared my life, but I am your minotaur, in all things. Your god is Kiril, whatever name he goes by now, he's got to be our god, there's no other way that this miracle could be... and you... no matter how much you deny it, I 'know' you ARE Kiril's Angel." When her grip released, he fell to his knees and bowed his head in reverence. The peasants who stood around in dismay, lost and confused, frightened and hopeful, watched the one that they had briefly thought to be Kiril come again, kneel before the blood monster that stood in front of the behemoth of their kind.

"Get down, you heathens!" Mu'Ulm snapped hoarsely, and hesitant to disobey, they knelt before the bloody angel he'd named as Kiril's own.

'OK... what the hell just happened here?' Neia wondered as she struggled to catch up to the sudden shift.