· · · · · · ·
Calling the surrounding of Anatae hills didn't do it justice. The impact of Bahamut's fire had twisted the landscape against gravity, as if giant claws jutted from the lands. One day there might be tales of Bahamut sealed under the earth, clawing below to get out. Magic brimmed within the earth that otherwise would have long collapsed under its own weight. Here, the mecha and knights on horse were out of their element, but the wyvern riders had more range.
He had gathered about two hundred demons on the upper slope of one such a peak. Though it was night, fires had been lit all along the path here and on the surrounding peaks. There was nowhere for the rag demon hide, and an easy way to dispose of the corpses. Altogether, he had to concede his advisers had been right to lay the trap here rather than within the confines of the city.
The question was whether he would come at all. If the rag demon only sought to instill fear, this would not matter to him. However, were it a matter of pride or even his people, he would come. Charioce would wait.
And wait. No doubt the conflict would be tense and ultimately satisfying, but the time until its arrival was a cultivated bore. Now, he had quite cultivated an attitude of reserved control, so he had taken position on a central, visible point for his soldiers and knights, helmet off and wind pulled at his wide cape. If all would go well, he would not need to lift a finger tonight. Another nail in the coffin of those who had once trampled over humankind.
It was no surprise that this night, he had a visitor. Behind him stood the mirage of a demon, looming without shadow and unseen to anyone but himself. Long, leathery wings folded around him and robbed some of his sight; the pest could do little more.
Once the red moon was high enough to peak the top of the land claw, he gave the signal. His knights encased the nearest demon in a painful force field.
"Rag demon, show yourself!" His voice carried far down the slopes, finding no reply.
He plunged his sword into the demon and his knights threw the corpse down the slope. Three more deaths passed before his enemy appeared.
Rather dramatically, the rag demon manifested on an outcrop between them and the moon. Charioce could appreciate the theatrics, but there was also a practical side. When the rag demon jumped down, he pushed off against the rock and just plan jumped over the nearest knights while still maintaining the illusion he couldn't fly. Hah. Charioce had to admit that was rather practical to being underestimated.
His sorcerers opened lighting circles at once, leaving no chance for the rag demon to even kill anyone. Just as he jumped down, the force caught him and threw him against the outcrop. Fire whirled up, scorching the earth. Even the rocks groaned under the heat.
The nearest mecha raised its blade and threw it right on the spot the demon had to be, causing the rocks to collapse altogether.
All fell silent. This better not be all it took, that would make this mass look like overkill.
And it wasn't. One of the more massive rocks in the pile shifted.
"Wait," he said, before his knights would approach.
The rock cracked in half. After a little more shaking, the pieces and all around where thrown meters into the air.
As the fire and debris cleared, the last bits of rags incinerated and left was a demon only about the size of a human man, white in body and clad in black. The face was rather familiar.
"Ah, it is you."
In sheer rage, the demon screamed Charioce's name as black feathered wings erupted from his back.
Oh, this just got so much more interesting. He got himself a fallen angel. What a perfect opponent, he was almost tempted to fight him one on one. Almost. His duties didn't allow for games.
So he stayed even still as the rag angel shot ahead.
The way his enemy fought was remarkable in its sheer brutality. Two dozen knights fell before him, almost an afterthought as rows of magical, black serpents pierced right through their armor. Top class dark magic, freshly attested in the records of Anatae — not merely any fallen angel, but perhaps a demon lord too.
The rag angel swirled out of the way of the mecha's strikes, only to be struck by another. The royal sorcerers unleashed more lightning onto the place he fell, a ceaseless barrage that set alight him and a radius of about thirty meters. The ground tore open, yet the dark angel flew out of it untouched.
He flanked the nearest mecha, surrounding it with serpents turned to wire that puleld the legs together. The mecha fell over right as the angel conjured up a sword and pierced the helmet of the next one, destroying the power core. He diverted back at Charioce, now only cold hatred on his face.
More of those serpents slaughtered the last of the knights before Charioce. Two of the black serpentss reach him. Now Charioce drew his sword to cleave them aside. The temptation to engage the rushing demon was so great, he took two steps ahead and cut into the next hail of black serpents. Seconds only, yet he had to call on the force of dromos to lend himself inhuman speed. Not enough. He only had one sword, and the enemy ten of those things aimed at him. He'd be dead, if not for the tiny detail that his armor was charged with the stolen power. The serpents broke on it.
Two serpents came at his head. He hit one, but the other took off part of his ear even as he dodge. It twisted around behind him and he turned just in time to slice it through the middle.
He expected the rag angel right on him now, but he only heard a wrangled scream. The rush of violence subsided, he noted his Onyx Knights had caught the rag angel in their force field. Well, that settled that.
Slipping into his collected modus was so easy nowadays. The screams were little more than satisfying background noise. Gingerly, he touched his bleeding ear.
Hmmm. Here he'd thought he'd just wear the armor to not look measly compared to the others, no problem to leave the helmet away. Imagine if the rag angel had known from the start where to aim those things, he'd be dead. Stupid, careless mistake. He had known the rag angel hid abilities of himself and it had almost cost him.
The rag angel still screamed within the green sphere. Quite a thing he was, one could see the traces of angel heritage for more reasons than the feathered wings. There was only hell in his eyes though, and it refused to let him surrender. The force field would hurt no matter what, but the way he strained against it would make it worse.
"What's the matter? We're done here. Just give up already."
The answer was some grunting and more screaming of his name. He left off the XVII, it didn't even feel personal. Just another little bundle of rage, as typical for demons.
He gave the signal to end it.
The narest mecha raised its sword and bore down so hard, the rag angel was driven into the ground.
The shield faltered.
"No, keep it going." At his words, it flickered back on, lightning the results.
A dent was made into the body that should leave gore all over the place, yet with terrible cracking, screams and the sound of flesh, the body pulled back into its own shape.
Hmm. During the invasion of Cocytus, there had been a number of demons they'd been unable to kill with ordinary weapons. It hadn't been a time for experimenting, but perhaps now was.
"Do it again."
The rag angel cried out as the blade descended once more, cought up blood and making a deeper dent into the ground, but the blade itself didn't even break the feathers on his wings.
Interesting.
"My king, please stop this," someone said behind him.
He didn't turn to Kaisar. "Why would I?"
"It's a waste of time. One cannot kill a fallen angel with ordinary weapons. Believe me, I've tried to kill this very demon with my own sword, and the lady Jeanne later confirmed only weapons of holy or curse magic can affect them."
"He does seem to be bleeding."
"I suspect that is the pressure of the body itself being contorted."
"That may be. I suppose we might just take him captive ... " Kaisar seemed relieved at that. "... but first I want to see whether we can get through with our own magic. Perhaps with enough wounds, we can simply bleed him out."
He nodded at the Onyx Knights, who intensified the field. The screaming become choked.
Kaisar flinched. Charioce saw it just from the corner of his eyes.
"How do you know this one, exactly?" He asked.
"Azazel is the demon who killed my father. I've ... I've followed him for a while with this suspicion, but I wasn't certain it was him."
"Ah. I suppose that explains your reluctance to provoke him too much," he said, while actually supposing more went on. Azazel was recorded as one of the demons Jeanne d'Arc had killed ten years ago, during the invasion on Anatae. Her most famous heroic act, killing Azazel and Pazuzu, which had made it so easy for people to write off her transformation into a witch as nothing but some demonic plot to taint her name. Personal history or not, such should have prompted the captain of the Orleans Knights to raise the alarm.
Now Jeanne's old enemy was here, somehow alive, somehow connected to her holy child. It reeked of fate's hand. Charioce couldn't stand fate.
"Again," he ordered the mecha.
"My king, it won't work," Kaisar said, more urging now. Charioce didn't care whether it worked.
As the blade raise once more the slightest tremor in the earth made Charioce freeze. His surrounding vanished behind ghostly black wings. The tremor increased and for a moment, Charioce had the sensation claws of the land itself curled inward, crushing everyone.
Within a blink the darkness was gone, just in time to see the blade descend off balance. The impact right next to the rag angel launched him into the sky on exploding rocks and dispersing field. It propelled the rag angels into a tall arc, over all the troops, speeding into the darker slopes below.
Thanks, fate. Just trying to save the world here, but noooo, things had to get difficult again.
· · · · · · ·
He couldn't move, yet he had to.
"Azazel!"
The voice tore him back to consciousness. His muscles twitched and he opened his eyes, finding Mugaro half blocking the sky.
"Mugaro ... you weren't supposed to come here."
As he strained to sit up, he noticed Nina kneeling on his other side, her gaze averted.
Azazel had landed on a narrow slope between two fangs of the landscape, where the earth had cracked and strained under the unnatural weight. Only a little sky was visible and the moonlight didn't reach here. How they had found him here was a riddle that all but confirmed Mugaro had extrasensory abilities — long suspected, never clear enough till now. Great. Just what he needed, more people to worry about.
"Girl, take Mugaro away from here."
Mugaro shook his head and pointed at Nina and himself, then both hands at the city and to here. Oh, right, that was it. Nina hadn't just follow Mugaro, he'd brought her to help.
"She can't and she won't, we already know that," he said, and then to Nina. "If you think I'm going to let myself be dragged away from here just because Mugaro wants it, you're wrong."
"If you think I'm going to let you get yourself killed—"
"Still counting!" The voice rolled down the slopes, leaving a weak echo in the passage. Right after it was a strangled cry, followed by a body tearing rocks along as it rolled down.
Azazel braced his wings against the ground and forced himself on his feet. That was about as far as his wings took him. One wing stroke and feeling every bone strain, he knew he wouldn't fly again. Could he walk up fast enough?
Pain shot through his abdomen and he staggered.
Nina scampered before him, arms wide to block the way. "Wait!"
"Get out of my way." He tried to sound commanding, but it came out more like a choked breath.
"I'm not getting out of your way." She didn't even look at him. "Fighting with those injuries, you are certain to die."
"Even if I die ..." He stepped aside and batted aside the arm in his way. "I will go."
He got exactly two steps further before the pain forced him to stand still. Though the material of that damn blade itself couldn't harm him — neither blessed nor cursed — it had been charged with the crude magic of Charioce's green power, congregated just below his ribs on impact. The flesh didn't mend as well as it should.
"Rag demon! Do you hear me? Come out, or I will slaughter the rest."
"Is that him?" Nina asked.
"Yes," Azazel wheezed. "He had over a hundred demons up ... less now ... if I go up there he'll lose interest in killing them."
"What kind of king is he?" That was the first time he ever heard the strain of hatred in her voice. Good. Even if she didn't want to help him, she might help others.
He started walking again. "If I die, use your power for the demons."
"Don't!" Nina grabbed him by the arm and pulled. This being a slope, he lost his footing and tumbled down. Nina didn't let go, so was pulled along. As they rolled she put her arms around him, the thought shot by she might die from cracked skulls, and he put one arm around her. The other he used to brace against the ground.
This led to a painful landing on his back and her straddling him. She was fine. He was less so than before, his wings did not like being weighted on now.
"Hey, girl, get a grip," he grumbled. "Didn't you hear what I said?"
"I did! Just hear me out!" She sat up a little, and for a few long moments she looked at him. It was the first time she looked him straight in the eyes. "The truth is ... "
She took a deep breath, and said, "Tell no one. Absolutely no one."
"Hnng." This was beginning to get very awkward. Even in the dark, the red of her face stood out.
And then she pushed her forehead against his collarbone. "Hug me."
... what.
"Why the hell would I?" Wait ... this ... this might have something to do with those conditions to her transformations ...
"Because. Hurry up! Hug me!"
Help.
It wasn't strictly speaking the holding her part. He'd done that twice now. But they had been different situations, okay. He hadn't been paying attention to her so much as to the avoiding getting hurt. This was just ... awkward. Too awkward. Worse than the pain.
His eyes darted around. Rocks here. Mugara smiling over there. Heaven above. Nope, not getting help.
He had no choice, did he? So he spread his arm, couldn't stop the wrangled noise from his throat, and embraced her. Despite himself, he found his face in the crook of her neck and his wings popping out.
This was ... not the worst. Kinda soft. For about four seconds before the emerging pink light burst Nina into the air.
As she shot off like some reverse meteorite, it left him dented more into the ground.
Mugaro soon leaned over him, smiling way too radiantly. Almost like he was proud.
It took Azazel a few seconds to process what had happened while the sounds of chaos started rolling down the slope. His mind helpfully deposited his thoughts on Lucifer.
This was it. If Charioce died tonight, he'd have to face Lucifer within a week tops and explain all this. Really, Lucifer wouldn't even need to add annoying annotations to the history records. It just wrote itself : the great Azazel, scourge of humankind, brought about the salvation of demonkind by being beaten into a miserable pile but that was okay because he hugged a girl and that fixed everything.
Would it, though?
High above a wyvern rider passed, and a horrible little detail crept out of his memory : Nina couldn't fly.
· · · · · · ·
The dragon knew the here and now : a world built on kindred magic, rife with blood of those she had to save, and her enemy perched on the claws of the great ancestor's shadow. Such a small being, so much hatred concentrated in one place. The metal, the scent of fear, the promise of death if she did not retaliate. She been in this world before. There was only one way for it to end.
That one, the leader, he had to die the most and she could do so.
Her power converged into solid form, pushed scales and tail and the breath of fire into the cold night. When she set foot down on the earth, it was with fresh heaviness and a will to fight for life.
Scattered between the metal enemies were groups of demons, their scent distinct from the humans. They were new to her, but the understanding they had to be saved permeated her drive. She couldn't unleash her fire on them, lest the wrong ones die. Many already had died, it shouldn't be more.
All humans geared up at once. Golden fields raised at her, firing meaningless power at her. She incinerated the magic with precise, targeted fire that never hit ground.
Taking a step towards the nearest line of prisoners, she swiped away their guards. They scattered in fear, stumbling down. Their hands tied, they weren't able to move well. She took position between them and the humans, lest their fire hit them.
The other humans abandoned their posts with the other prisoners, gathering against her. More of the golden shields were raised and she charged ... to find it a trap.
A green forcefield surrounded her, pulling her back. She braced against it as a heavy mecha approached, blade drawn. The shield was new, but the giant not. She turned her stomach up, caught the blade at it descended between her front paws and broke the force shield with her tail and hind legs.
They landed with the mecha atop her. She rolled aside, throwing it off. It tried scrambling to its feet as others approached.
In the moment of chaos, her sight fixed on the leader. All others were around him, positioned to defend and the charge at his voice. She jumped onto the unstable mecha, which collapsed under her as she used it to jumped higher up the slope. Rocks slid below her, but she scrambled further.
More of those mecha charged. She shot fire at the unsteady ground below them, her magic mixing with that of the ancestor to tears the rocks loose. Avalanches tore down below them.
Screams filled the air behind her. She stopped. Both enemies and some of the fleeing demons had been caught in the wreckage ... that was wrong. Not supposed to happen. Spirits, she wasn't used to fighting like this.
If she ended it now, though, she could focus better on those to be saved.
The enemy came down from his perch, said something pointless as she charged up again. She opened her jaws, almost in range to burn him down, when another tiny figure darted in the way, sword drawn before the enemy.
She stopped again, sliding back a little on the slope.
A typical human, but familiar. The hair stood out, she knew this one ... knew he was connected to a friend, whose strange, dead scent still clung to him. No mistaking, she wasn't supposed to kill this one either. Better no fire.
Fortunately he was tiny, did nothing but stand there and she just happened to be a massive long necked dragon. She just took a few steps over him, let him hit uselessly at her throat and snapped at her real target.
Her jaws closer not around metal, but a solid, stinging green forcefield. She increased the pressure, desperate to bite through. Shoving the other human aside, she set both claws at the side of the shield. It. Had. To. Crack. Now.
It cracked. Now the human inside screamed at last.
Her jaws closer around metal and ... couldn't get through again. The same magic of those force fields resisted her here. Her jaws hurt and patience low, she instead slammed the body onto a nearby rock.
The enemy slumped down yet still got ready to raise another shield. She snapped at him, intent to grab the unprotected head between her jaws. He must've dodged because her jaws closer against metal again. She couldn't see clear enough, but the head was on her right side.
Just as she tried to ram the head against the nearest rock, the forcefield emerged from his arm and forced her jaws open. It was the pain as it cut into her tongue that made her throw him.
His head landed on a rock and he quit moving. There was plenty of blood, and now, free space.
She geared up the fire in her throat and seared the earth. A white blur shot before the fire and awful, inhuman wailing filled the air.
When the flames clear, there lay a charred unicorn. A little further that weird hair human dragged the unconscious enemy into a crack of the earth.
No, not again! She fell in the cavity, clawing at it with all might.
Why was someone who was with friends be helping the enemy? Fire itched in the back of her throat, begging her to burn them down.
She got no chance to decide. A forcefield closed around her again. The cavity distanced.
She braced all her limbs against it, further, more, soon it'd break. Just a little more, then she'd burn them down.
Those precious few seconds weren't enough. A wyvern landed at the cavity. More humans pulled out the enemy, onto that beast. They flew away.
Gone.
The field cracked under her power. Running at full speed, she lurched at the wyvern, but it wasn't even close.
The enemy vanished into the darkness. She gave chase down the hill, intent to follow it all the way, but soon lost sight of it and with that, focus to remain. Intent gone, so did the burning fire that kept her going as a dragon.
· · · · · · ·
While Belphegor had known the resistance existed for years, she'd never been sure what exactly they did. Not much, it turned out. They helped refugees hide and channelled them out of the city whenever possible. A very cautious definition of possible. Tonight they planned to sit back entirely to avoid trouble. Dante urged her to stay still, insisted her drive was just newbie spirit, but screw that. She hadn't even consciously decided to be part of the resistance, it just had to be.
"I can hardly believe I'm going to do this," Dante said as he followed her. "Look, this is a huge risk. You're smart and healthy for a demon in this cursed city, we could use you on the long run. There's no resisting humans if we die."
Old, true creed, but not tonight. "This will be different. Lord Azazel and his dragon will change things. We need to be ready to help whomever we can, however we can."
She got a heavy sigh and his footsteps behind her. At least he followed her.
There was one elevator here, and there she got a lot more resistance than from Dante. The owners were already shady, but the outright no, get lost she hadn't expected.
"Please, help out. We must grab everyone we can and get them down here before any mobs form," Belphegor said again.
Malphas and Divesepid just stared. "Why?"
"We have a crisis here! There will be many injured who can't make it down the stairs, or even be safely led through the streets! Someone of your size, Divesepid, could help carry people! We'll likely be spotted anyway and—"
"Yeah, let someone else be spotted," Divesepid mumbled.
"We had Dante being all passionate a few years back too," Malphas said with a humorless smile. "It'll pass."
"Did you have a massacre of this magnitude back then too?"
"No, this is pretty new," Divesepid said. "In terms of form. We've seen plenty of other types of bloodshed by now. Look, we're gonna be here if someone wants down, nothing more. I'll do it for free this night, that's all you're getting."
"Their choices. Let them be," Dante said. "Let's take the stairs, we'll be faster."
Belphegor had to concede, but it didn't feel right.
A small voice reached her as she was a few steps up the spiral. "I'll help, if you don't mind."
It was one of the women she'd helped hide just the other day. She shivered on her feet and her bandaids were bloodsoaked. No shape for heroics. Yet when she spoke, there was a harshness to it that didn't fit the frail image. "I need to help."
"You're barely even healed. I don't think that's a good idea," Belphegor said.
"A good idea? I've got nothing to have ideas about except my friends. They were taken. We hadn't found a home yet, so they just snatched them from the streets. I got away only because I still have my wings. Let me help, I'll go back once I find them."
Belphegor closed the distance between them and said, "Listen to me. The rag demon is lord Azazel. He's incredibly powerful, I'm sure he'll manage. It's better if weaker demons stay out of the way, so he has less to protect."
Her eyes widened. "Azazel? Why would he even? No, thanks. I'll fly alone then."
Belphegor frowned at the poorly concealed spite, but focus on the revelation that Adva could fly. It was so rare for any demons who still had their wings to be around. She would be of use to the resistance, once it got off the ground. Her practical side told her not to squash this kind of spirit, and won out.
"Alright. What you can do for us is fly low and guide anyone who escapes back to a point we'll choose. What is your name?"
She nodded. "Adva."
She said nothing more as she followed.
Not so soon they arrived at one of the smaller gates. There were only two guards this night and night watch had been thin on the way. Good. Most forces had been allocated to the murder scene.
"I can handle one of those quickly, can you take the other?" Dante said.
"No need." She took out a small pipe from the many pockets of her coat and a vial from another. A third pocket produces tiny darts. She filled the darts on the spot with a tranquilizer. "This is going to simulate a hangover once they wake up. Adva, this will be our point. Steer clear."
She aimed. With two sift blows, she hit them in the neck.
Dante sighed in relief. "Impressive trick. I heard of your inventive spirit, but I didn't know you were into chemical things."
"I got into it in the red light district," she said. "Need drives creation as much as curiosity."
They pulled the bodies below the gate, into the shadows. Adva vanished across the open road as fast as she could at a walking pace, pretending to only be a human traveler. Once she reached the nearby cluster of trees, she took off.
They waited a long time. The noises on the hills died down and soon after, Adva's shadow crossed the line of the nearby forest. One might mistake her for a bat if one didn't know better. Slower than before and frequently landing, she must be guiding someone. At the edge of the forest though, she crossed the distance as fast as she could.
Landing with Belphegor in the shadow, she said, "I've found a group who escaped, they're right on my tracks, but uhm ... there's someone with them. Again. I don't know what to do about him."
Belphegor got a hunch soon confirmed.
Again, the captain of the Orleans Knights escorted the escapees. This time he went by unicorn, much more visible than before. The group followed them, looking more in Adva's direction than his. When they spotted Belphegor and Dante, they rushed towards them.
"Did you see lord Azazel?" Belphegor asked Adva.
Adva shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. But I did see two of my friends."
Belphegor gave a quick glance over the moon covered faces. All tired, fearful and many bleeding, a few supported by others. None of them were familiar, so that meant Adva'd seen corpses. Her throat thickened, she could only hope she wouldn't find Azazel as a corpse too. "Alright. Everyone, move with us."
Dante ushered them through the gate, into the shadows, while Belphegor stayed outside. Knife drawn and pipe hidden below her other arm, she kept eye on Kaisar.
He'd steered his unicorn below the gate and remained in the show, regarding the falling guards as if waiting for movement.
"They're knocked out, not dead," Belphegor said. "Do us a favor and pretend you saw them drink this night."
He gave a tense nod. "Take the next group through the farmer's gates. These ones will change shift soon."
Her gut instinct was to expect a trap, her reasoning suggested otherwise. How to make sense of this human at all? What was his tie to Azazel?
"You're the last lady that Cerberus ... uhm ... "
"Sold you. You can say it. We all know the exchange here." Belphegor gestured around her, at the city.
"You are her then." He got off the unicorn and took a step closer.
She flicked the blade and he stopped. "What's going on up there? Where is lord Azazel?"
"I have not seen him since he fell down the slope, but he will be fine, I believe. This may sound strange, but he has divine friends beyond that dragon."
"What is your deal? Do you do this because you owe lord Azazel, or does he have leverage over you?"
He had a pained look for a moment. "I ... I try to pursue a life different from what I once did, driven by revenge. I do not wish for anyone to die, be it human or demon, but over the years, I've fallen into complacency. It is strange that of all people, it was Azazel to shake me from it, to point out I was failing the chivalry I had sworn to uphold as a knight."
"Oh." It sounded too good to be true, even though Belphegor had once met humans he spoke like this. In better times. The present age seemed to do nothing but strip all the good away.
"Regarding what I and my knights have done, it was wrong. Please forgive me," he said.
The audicity he had to ask her for that, when every day the king he guarded shed more of the blood of her own people.
"I don't need your words, king's dog. It means nothing."
"It does. I really am sorry, I'd like to offer my apologies, but I don't know the right way," he said softly at first, only for this voice to rise. Half visible in the moonlight, his face almost looked like he meant it.
"Sorry? No you're not," Belphegor said. "I've seen your people around the red light district. You're favorites because with you around the worse scum behaves, but I've seen them walk on when cries came from the alleys or upper rooms and look away when someone came bruised down the stairs. What you do is chase down escaped slaves, protect humans alone, and let us rot. Don't you dare apologize when you've done nothing to make me believe it means anything."
It poured out like venom, but at the end of it she felt only drained. Tears stung in her eyes. It wasn't enough. No amount of speaking, swearing, cursing would make up for anything. Earth had become to demons as hell was to humans, and there was nothing she could ...
... she could do what was known as demon creed. Two knights and special ropes had been needed to restrain her. Even if he drew that sword, she had a fair chance to take his life.
But what good would it do? He'd just be replaced, and she'd have to fight off ideas for the rest of her life on whether she'd done the right thing. All that happened was a pathetic sob from her throat. No, no, keep composure.
He held out a handkerchief.
By all chaos, what was wrong with this man? The bit of cloth looked like the most ridiculous response to everything she felt — her home torn away, her people dead, everything that had come down on her even in her less awful fate in the red light district. She wiped her own tears and turned away.
· · · · · · ·
Azazel woke up to blinding sunlight and to the wrong familiar place. Rather than Rita's office, he still was in Bacchus's carriage. When had he fallen asleep?
"Charioce survived, just to get that out of the way," Rita said somewhere behind him. "The surviving hostages got away into the slums, for the most part. There were members of the rebellion who brought in a lot of them, if I'm not mistaken."
So, it wasn't over. Nina had failed.
"Why are we here?"He pushed back up on his elbows. The old undead demon sat in a corner of the carriage and Rita's ravens perched around a visibly uncomfortable Hamsa. On the parallel couch lay Nina, fast asleep still.
"The slums are buzzing with talk of the dragon who saved them, and the place is swarming with knights. I had my servants pick up a few things to treat you here."
"Did you see Mugaro?"
"He insisted on going shopping, even though we're overflowing with food."
"And the old guy?" Azazel asked. It wasn't usual to see him and Hamsa apart.
"Bacchus went to divert a problem," Hamsa said. "There's other gods in the city now, scouting for something."
Probably finally getting ready for a move. As long as they kept their inevitable failure out of his way, he didn't care what they did. Maybe Mugaro had seen them and wanted out of the way.
Rita continued treating him and he suffered through it. She very much lived by the creed that gentle doctors make stinking wounds, but he was convinced her own lack of pain swung that too far into the rough direction.
Before leaving, Rita did a quick check on Nina and found nothing wrong. Either she hadn't gotten injured during the fight, or she healed when transforming. Either spelled good news, because she'd be ready for the next move.
Nina's reluctance to join up hadn't been distaste, but inability. Surely there was a way to work around that, given her trigger was abundantly available and he was a personal embodiment of it.
"When's she going to wake up?" Azazel asked. "We need to talk."
"Normally she's up before the dawn," Hamsa said. "But when she turns dragon she sleeps much longer."
Wait a minute ... "She'd changed the other day when I visited too?"
"Yep. We later asked her about the dragon thing later and she wouldn't tell us why, exactly, but I don't think it was good. The guy thing flusters her, this was different. You know anything about that?"
"No." Oh chaos please let there be ways to turn her into a dragon that weren't so horribly degrading.
Not that he couldn't handle a little awkwardness if it was necesary. He just needed to work on his serenity. Azazel had once seen Lucifer go for five years with the same expression, it couldn't be that hard for just five minutes. He'd work on it.
The door swung open. In stepped Mugaro not with groceries, but a cloaked visitor.
"Lord Azazel! I can barely believe it, you really are here!" Belphegor slipped in and closed the door. "We didn't find a trace of you elsewhere and then I saw the child ... you really are allied with gods? This is ... "
She trailed off as she looked around at the colorful inside. The magical lamp caught her attempts and she tapped it with her fingers, causing it to swing. She smiled as if it was something valuable.
Only then did she looked at the other residents. The still sleeping Nina passed her notice quickly, as she knelt before Hamsa.
"Hey, miss ... " Hamsa said, nervous.
"Bel ... " She stared at Hamsa. "Are you ... why are you a duck? You are a god, true?"
"Of course I am a god! I was simply reincarnated this way, but that makes no difference to my nature!"
"I always just thought gods were very flashy," she said. "Not that I've seen many, but their emmisaries were."
Hamsa puffed up. "Excuse me, we're just holding back for the sake of mortals. You have no idea how flashy my real form is!"
"It's a giant duck," Azazel said, because he had a reputation as a wicked demon to uphold. "He even blows up the stupid crown."
Hamsa huffed and Belphegor chuckled. He wasn't sure at whom. For a demon, she took the presence of gods very lightly.
She sat on the one empty couch, careful as if it might sting and never really relaxing.
"Since you freed me, I have joined the resistance," Belphegor said. "I wanted to ask you why you have not been part of it when you are dedicated to the wellbeing of your people?"
"Is that guy Dante still running it?"
"Yes. He's been very helpful, but how does that have to do with your absence?"
"Dante couldn't be of use for what I did before as the rag demon. Regular demons like him and you couldn't possible keep up, but for where we are headed, I will need the help of the resistance. The dragon alone is powerful, but cannot fly. We need to get to Charioce before he can get away."
"So you'll join us?" She looked so elated, it was undemonic. "Who else will? The dragon belongs to some kind of beast master, right? Some people spotted a small figure nearby, and the dragon took care not to hurt any demons even as it laid waste to the humans. It must be an amazing control they have, because the figure was only about the size of a child!"
"You have a report on what the dragon did?" She nodded, confused. "Tell me as much as you can."
· · · · · · ·
Nina woke up in the familiar brightness of the carriage, though things smelled unusually decaying. The cawing of Rita's ravens drew her out of sleep entirely. She tried to sit up.
"You saved me yesterday."
Azazel? She turned over and there he was, on the other couch. No shirt, just bandages, looking very f—nope, not doing this again. She huddled back in her blankets and faced the wall.
"Did I save the others too?"
"A lot of them. We don't have a count yet," he said. "Charioce is alive though. What went wrong?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"That I don't know. I can't remember and I'm pretty sure I can't reason as a dragon all that much either. When I become a dragon I lose my mind and I can't remember anything I do."
"You spared the demons and targeted Charioce, that much we know. And he got away, probably because you let Kaisar live. He saved Charioce."
Now the biting tone wasn't lost on Nina, not after years of disappointment people had in her. "I'm sorry."
"Just how sensitive is that, uh, trigger anyway?"
"Well, if I looked at you now, I might just turn into a dragon again."
"That would be a problem."
Nina heard ruffling of cloth. As she looked over her shoulder, Azazel had pulled one of the blankets all over himself. He'd crossed his arms under the sheet from the looks of it. She imagined him looking very miffed, causing a giggle to escape.
"What? I'm fixing the problem. We're not done talking. What exactly are you? Some kind of shapeshifter mage, or are you cursed?"
Hmm, what to say? Her people lived in secret for a reason, but those reasons was the human. Azazel wasn't likely to be a threat more than Rita was, he'd never sell her out to any knights.
"I'm not a demon, and this isn't a spell I cast on myself. I'm from a tribe of sapient dragons. Transformation is part of our nature."
"Dragons living together?" Azazel said. "I never heard of that."
"You wouldn't have, we're really good at being a secret. We got to be. Not so secretive though that I couldn't be born. See, my mother's a human. I'm half blood. I've got all the strength of a dragon, but I can't transform at will. I only transform when I intensely feel certain things that are kinda the stuff that pushes other thinking away, and, uhm ... the most frequent of that is getting heartbeats over pretty guys. It's weird, isn't it? I know it's weird, but I can't do anything about it. Don't tell anyone, okay?"
"That you turned into a dragon?"
"No! That it's because of, you know. Hot guys."
"Can you be summoned?"
That's all he had to say, after she poured out her secrets? It stung a little, but at least he wasn't making fun of her.
"No, I don't register as a dragon in the arcane system enough, that's why I'm even allowed to run all over the place. I can't get caught up in any summoning spells even by chance. That's really about the only advantage I have. I'm such a mess, I don't think I'll be very useful."
"That's not so," he said. "If you can't control yourself, I'll control you instead."
"Ha? What do you mean?"
He leaned onto his side, reaching out his clawed hand, and the blanket fell off and spirits why did this have to be one of the things turning her dragon why. "Let my touch lead you to peak."
Oh no. Nooo, not here not now. Scales pressed through her skin and her spine tingled, ready to grow a tail.
"Stop talking so weird!" she shrieked. "I'll turn into a dragon if you don't stop."
"Please not now." So blasé. "Is getting annoyed with boring talk one of your other triggers, or what?"
Did ... did he not know what he sounded like?
"No! The others are ... more difficult. You can't do those." Maybe he could, but she didn't really want him to try now or any time.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
Now ... now what? He was asking questions as if she'd agreed to join, but had she? She supposed she had jumped into the fray for the demons, it wasn't a weird idea.
The door opened and Mugaro entered.
"Did you show her the safe route?" Azazel asked.
"Hey, Mugaro!"
Mugaro smiled at them both, and nodded at Azazel.
"Anyone else see you?" He shook his head.
"Good." Azazel got up and grabbed his shirt, while Nina quickly turned away. "Mugaro, stay with the doctor. Don't follow me. Got it?"
What?
"You're leaving Mugaro?"
But he was already out the door. Spirits, that man was impossible in more than one way.
· · · · · · ·
A soft hum sprang to life as the machine geared up on her magical fire. Belphegor took a step back and enjoyed the warm orange glow filling the glass house. Inside was nothing but puts on shelves, but that would change soon.
Dante walked by her room and she dragged him in to show off. "Look, I have it working. We'll have our own food soon!"
He managed a wrinkled smile, clearly not believing this would work. "I thought the glass only worked with a sun around."
Point, as they were inside a cave, which was why she'd be channeling some of the local magical water here soon.
"I got word from Olivia's faction," Dante said. "They don't want to come to Anatae without proof Azazel's presence means something, or whether he's even really here. Azazel wasn't known for his care."
"He will be," she said with utmost confidence.
"Perhaps," Dante said. "Altogether it's strange how things change. It's only been short years, but I'd settled into it being longer. Everything has been centuries for me, why wouldn't the reign of mankind be? Yet here after a mere five years, we might reclaim our lost freedom on the back of only Azazel and a nameless beastmaster? Where do we even go, if next week the king is dead and the kingdom ours?"
"I do not know," she said. She had many ideas on what she'd like humankind to be, that had been her thing for centuries, but actually putting them to fruition hadn't been a realistic expectation.
Dante faced her. "Belphegor, you handled last night pretty well. More will join now we have hope. I will need a second in command. Will you?"
"I would be honored," she said. And a little overwhelmed. Here she might have a position of power at long last to do something with those ideas.
With a grin, he clasped her shoulder. "We're ramshackle, so I can't adjust your name or give you any new curses, but I'll have it known you are to be obeyed."
There were only twenty of them, Dante didn't need a second in command yet, but once the resistance grew ... Then Belphegor could worry about how Dante's choice was entirely based on how she was the nearest person who hadn't slumped into complacent acceptance of how futile their resistance was, rather than any leadership skills.
The first steps were small.
Over the years, the demons had burrowed deep below Anatae, the way they had dug out their homes in hell. In earlier times, the tunnels had been collapsed by the humans, but this led to instability above. Burrowing was technically forbidden, but one just had to avoid being caught. Keep the tunnels stable and humans no longer searched for them. Their savior here was Arachna, who could spin and craft rock covered webs to conceal extra tunnels, solid enough to fool humans but easy enough to remove for a demon. This allowed them to gather with lights on, make plans undisturbed, store things, even as the slums were occasionally scourged.
As first step to her position, she gathered up all their members, save the guards, into the makeshift mesh hall. It really was little more than a damp cave near the foundations of the other walls. She told who ever would hear what she knew of Azazel's actions, so by the time everyone had gathered the hall was buzzing with excited whispers.
"Azazel really was here?"
"I did see him at the arena, I told you!"
"You mean all along he's been fighting for us?"
"I met the rag demon when he broke open the trade post I was at! To think it was lord Azazel all along."
Dante stood at the speaker's platform with a dim smile on his face, waiting for Eligos. When the named stepped into the hall, Dante pulled him near the platform and said, "Ah, there my adviser is."
"I'm an advisor now?" Eligos groaned. "This crap is really getting to your head already."
"Oh come on. You have these great skills, put them to some use. I know adviser is a step down from minister of warfare, but we have to make do."
"I don't know, our ranks are a little out of sway," Eligos said dryly. "I suppose we could have new ranks now things have changed."
Between them, not much had changed. The familiarity between old friends stood out, and Belphegor felt a tad like an outsider.
Where Dante was a broad, powerful gray man weathered by war, Eligos was a pale man with sleek black hair and no horns, master of rooms and plans. If his eyes hadn't been pitch black, one might mistake him for a very pale human.
Dante had founded the resistance, but without anything to organize, Eligos had joined only to hide. As a strategist and the equivalent of a knight in Cocytus, he was wanted by humans. After hopping cities trying to find a way back into hell, he'd arrived here at some point. He'd looked like crumpled paper drifting through halls before, now he looked steady.
Belphegor recited to herself she had a place here too, now. Operating alone had always been her way, but now she took position at Dante's other side.
Azazel had said he would come after catching up with the dragon. He didn't let himself be awaited long.
Soon Azazel was led into the hall by Adva, who made herself small as soon as possible while Azazel remained in a beam of light, clear to all eyes. He stood tall and proud, the bandaids on his face doing little to nothing to mar the hope of a savior.
Yet, just as he opened his mouth to speak, Dante spoke up. "You are alone?"
"Yes," Azazel said, a little prickly. "I am here to get your help. We will overthrow Charioce on the festival of victory, when they dare to celebrate our fall. You will all get ready to reclaim the pride of our nation. We will trample of their arrogance when they think they are at their peak. Charioce will die in my hands knowing he cannot subjugate demonkind."
Weak cheers errupted, caught between euphoria and a deeply ingrained need to be quiet down here.
Eligos said in a most drawn out tone, "Realllly? During this festival, there's one point to catch the king, which I shall presume you mean. The parade. That's it, right?"
"Of course."
"You want to attack a heavily guarded parade full of fresh soldiers, when we could be attacking right after one of their raids left them exhausted?"
Oh. Belphegor had to admit that of all the parades they could choose, the celebration day was the most inconvenient one.
"Furthermore, we know absolutely nothing about this dragon," Eligos droned on. "Who summons it? How well trained is it? What are its limits? Really, everyone? Are we going to simply let this brat walk in here, dictating what we are to do?"
"I am Lucifer's second in command for a reason!"
"Oh yes, you fallen angels stick together of course. With all your power you certainly can afford friendship politics, but you may have noticed we have a little crisis here. You wouldn't be calling for our help if your dragon alone was enough."
"I have experience with invasions well enough to not hedge my bets." Azazel sounded perfectly strong in conviction, but Belphegor gave pause now. The rest of the hall likewise wasn't as enthusiastic anymore. It spurred Eligos on in his irreverent tone.
"Yes, Azazel trying to overthrow Anatae worked out so well last time. Let's entrust our fate to the guy who kept flying into the fire of Jeanne d'Arc and threw a whole army to die onto Anatae's walls. I happened to have questioned the soldiers returning from his invasion on Anatae, and I believe there was something about being hit by Jeanne d'Arc while being a clear target and not mounting any counter attack?"
"Honestly, I was there," a small voice came from the crowd. Azazel glared at the speaker, but Eligos gestured for the demon to stand and continue. "Uhm, he was playing with some humans. He didn't even notice the saint was there even after she killed Pazuzu."
A discontent murmur went through the crowd. Cheer quickly turned to questions on whether Azazel could even be trusted.
"Yes, indeed. I did mark up Azazel as someone to be very cautious about with entrusting armies," Eligos said, giving a meaningful look at Dante.
Dante stepped off his rock and crossed his arms, eyes locked with Azazel. Tension filled the air now, as it became clear Dante wasn't going to back off of his barely held leadership now. "Eligos has a point. You just show up and say you can use that dragon? Why didn't you just use it right away, rather than get beaten up first? The survivors say the dragon didn't even arrive till you got thrown off the scene."
"Lord Azazel, surely if there is a summoner somewhere, we can meet them?" Belphegor said. "We would have to include them in our plans regardless of what reasons you and them might have to be secretive."
"Exactly," Arachna muttered from her corner. "Summoning dragons is risky business, one never knows what they're gonna get unless one has the right name, and unlike our berserkers, they are not trained. Do we even know it's the same dragon each time? Is it a trained dragon at all? Would it turn on us if we become aggressive?"
A silence fell during which Azazel looked a strange mix between deeply offended and very much put on the spot.
"I may guess that this dragon's summoned in some secret ritual that the summoner really doesn't want to share?" Belphegor said.
"... yes," Azazel said through gritted teeth.
"Then arrange a meeting. For all I care the summoner shows up wrapped in sheets. We're not doing anything until we know how exactly that deal with the dragon works," Dante said.
Azazel looked more pissed than she'd ever seen him, but did turn back the way he'd come. "Meet me at the old quarry this evening."
· · · · · · ·