· · · · · · ·
El sat on the bench of the small church, kicking her foot against the bench in front of her. Morning light came through the stained glass, urging her to get read for going out, they had a job to do, but there was nowhere to go today.
She didn't want to doubt what she could sense about people, but this wasn't even the first time. A lot of the people in that mob the other day hadn't felt like they'd be a threat normally either. And then Azazel just said he had been one of her mother's enemies. That wasn't even the question she'd wanted to convey.
Her mother had told her someone would come and extend a helping hand, she was to trust whoever this wand and follow them. What if she'd done it wrong?
Someone entered behind her, but didn't feel like a threat.
"Oh, we have visitors?" The voice was elderly and matched the kindness the human radiated. She couldn't help but be weary.
"Child, why are you not home?"
El didn't think anything bad would happen if she went back, at least not intentionally. Azazel had never been malicious toward her, but if he only kept her around to deliver to someone else, she might not notice.
"Have you been here all night?" The old man sat next to her. "You should have said something when I closed the doors, or did you not hear?"
El gestured at her throat and shook her head with a sad smile.
"Oh, I see. Well, that'll make it more difficult for you to tell your story, but perhaps you'd like breakfast? We haven't had any poor over the street for years with how well things for under Charioce ... for humans anyway."
El took the offer, following the man into his small home aside of the church. It was nice food and friendly company, but that did little to alleviate her worries.
The pastor offered pencil and paper, but she didn't touch it. There was no way to start.
By the end of breakfast there was the softest thud on the roof, and in the corner of one of the windows something black slittered. A black snake with glowing eyes.
Azazel was here.
El got up and ran outside, but by then the roof was empty.
It was early morning and the city already thrived, but noise had damped by an odd mist creeping through the streets.
The pastor followed her outside, looking at her with unveiled confusion, then noticed the mist. "Oh dear. That is demon's work. You better stay a little longer."
El didn't know much of whatever Azazel and his friends were planning, but Rita had said something of armies.
Azazel had never made a secret of wanting to kill Charioce, if that happened El might have a better chance at saving her mother.
Soon Charioce would die and then maybe El could find her mother — she had some sense of where she was, but no way of getting there. The island was drenched with more of that horrible green power than El could handle in one burst.
The eerie thought prickled that if Azazel ruled the city he might maybe not want to help her mother. But just as unpleasant was the idea he might not survive today. She couldn't just figure this out, but if something went wrong today, she never might.
· · · · · · ·
The underground buzzed with bottled noise and tension that tried not to spill over — neither as echoes nor feet running out of the tunnels. Unusually, Dante was among the loudest.
"He didn't put those freaks on the table until after you scared that kid off, and now we to worm strangers into the pattern because Azazel won't back off!"
"Will you quit going on about that already?" Cerberus said. "I was just being cautious. Gods don't go round turning people into demigods. Saints at most, and that was not a saint. It was fishy."
As far as Nina was concerned, Cerberus herself was fishy too. Like, what had she done done with that blond guy, let alone why she had once thought Azazel wasn't her kind of boring.
Bacchus and Hamsa had taken their carriage and were somewhere half populated, a sign they didn't want to be questioned. Whatever they knew, they didn't want to tell Nina.
Azazel would summon a squad of skeletal warriors. Maybe he hadn't killed them, but his boss Lucifer might have. Maybe if he valued books so much more than his people, he wasn't that good either.
Belphegor had several bombs now. The sick housekeeper lady was locked up in a room now the rebellion headed out.
Her own goals, eh? Dragon aside, her work here was reeling in people who didn't care for the liberation goal. Bartering was her part. Get the gods on board, get Rita on board, get Cerberus on board. So much of the important people wanted to be paid to help.
Others weren't paid at all. apparently. After some questioning, Nishaol pointed her to the room Azazel had his 'freaks', intending to try questioning again.
It was another ordinary room, but less ordinary were the people in it. She wouldn't call them breaks, they looked rather ... sad, or frustrated, or manic.
Four more sat around a table, eating like they hadn't had anything in years. Literary, since Nina recognized the faces from the tablets Azazel had taken from the vault. All of them had a certain flair to them that hadn't come across on rock reliefs. A sense of personality and uniqueness. Oh. Azazel had chosen them for that spark, hadn't he? That wall had been his wall of criminals.
A woman sat lifeless in the corner, clutching a blanket and staring in utter fascination at a marble in her hands. The sounds coming from her mouth were the most unusual, endless loud humming and chanting.
A man had curled up in a ball in the corner. He clutched his ears with his hands, muttering about everything being worse than nothings. The way he pulled at his ears drew blood.
Nina dropped to a knee and pried his hands loose. "Don't, you'll hurt yourself."
"Leave me alone, bitch." He shoved her away.
Rude. Nina stood up and almost walked into Azazel as he entered.
"Don't mind them," Azazel said. "They're not demons nor allies, they're just here to fill their part of their pact."
"I don't know how much we'll be owing you when hell is this weak," said a bearded man who pulled off the pirate look better than Dante.
"When hell is strong again, you'll eat those words," Azazel said.
"Better taste like more than these potatoes," the man muttered.
"What did you come here for?" Azazel asked Nina.
"Is ... is Mugaro okay?"
"She's fine," he said. "Get lost."
Oh, right. Was supposed to keep Mugaro out of things. She'd thought this was a moot point now Bacchus had accidentally brought them here, but perhaps it was different with these people. Nina couldn't get it over her heart to ask about the city again.
· · · · · · ·
Now Chabrol had deciphered the tablets, raids on heaven were not really needed anymore. They could mass produce their own gemstones and spread them across the continent, and he had recently begun manufacturing skyships to remedy the sustenance problems with the floating beasts. If he died, the nations of humankind would be well tended to.
Really, today was just a little test run. This divine sanctuary was one of the last remaining and more poorly defended than others. The gods had either given up or were running out of heads to send.
It was pretty routine by now. Ram the ship, walk in, slaughter gods. As long as he was here anyway, needless as it had become, he might as well personally kill them. As befit to a leader.
Today he had broken that habit out of precaution. He was curious enough to see what these dragons could do, but didn't trust them enough to be near them in a chaotic scenario. Curious specifically at the hybrid. Would there be a decay in power due to this blood? How did it compare to the dragon allied with Azazel?
The older, gray dragon was more experienced with carnage and the other one likewise a more competent combatant. Lao underperformed compared to them, but only due to lack of experience and age. Compared to N—the red dragon, he was superior. More balanced body shape meant more speed and he was an adult compared to her.
None of them would last against a proper divine force, but that didn't matter. He just needed them to handle one frail little dragon an unfortunate immunity, then he could focus on the rag demon.
The raid done and cleaned up, gems salvaged, he called for Lao to visit him in the control room. The one who had the slight shake and unnerved eyes of a fresh killer, uncertain yet.
He gestured for him to stand behind his throne, as they looked over the passing clouds of the way home.
"Is this the first time you have killed?" he asked.
"No, your majesty, but it's the first time I slaughtered," he said. "I intend to get used to it."
"Oh? And why would that be?"
"Once, the answer was fear for the demons of hell finding us," he said. "The people of my tribe have long since detached ourselves from the vile heritage of hell. We want it to stay that way, but hell might like it."
"You want to opt into the human tribe?"
"I dare say we already have," he said with a hint of pride. "Aside of the very oldest, all members of our tribe look entirely human yet with all the benefits of dragon blood. Including longevity."
"Hmm. Is there something amiss with your reproduction, that you have remained but a small tribe across the thousands of years?"
That got a pointed silence. "On a purely technical level, there are some magical conditions that had to be met for generations to end up as they did. However, that is not what you are truly asking about, are you?"
"I wonder why, if your people are advancing, you have not expanded your dominance."
"People have an unfortunate tendency to hunt down dragons, and the demons and gods do not enjoy competition. And have you not recently made short work of either? My people fear to be known, while they are small in number."
"Yet you stand here."
Lao gave a wry smile. "I would not be, if that degenerate had not mingled with demons. It was only a matter of time before you learned we exist."
"You known this one?"
"To humans it would be known as the scourge of the eastern mountains. Have you heard of it, during your purge of the lands?"
"Not personally. I have sent my knights to take down many monsters, I have not kept track of each."
"The scourge was our little degenerate, ravaging the lands for flesh," he said. "We had it under control, but it got away recently. I've come to deal with it before it brings doom to our future."
Charioce had his suspicions about a certain girl, not so long in the capital city, from a mysterious town in the east. All that strength that appealed to him — she had seemed like such an exceptional human — might come from a failed attempt of a demon to ascend to humankind.
He did not want his suspicions to be true. That was a first. Normally being correct was a matter of pride, he should not not want it.
"If I may impose, we are not the only ones in hiding. I overheard your men speak of stripping demon skulls in the cargo bay. You intend to play this raid off as conquest on demons, is it not so? Why hide your triumphes over heaven from mere commoners?"
"You must have no church where you life, let alone the plague of faith."
"We honor the fay, but no, I suppose there is something behind those buildings that elludes me."
"Faith is control in the way praise for a king is control, but more wasted. It may yet be several generations before Mistarcia's population is truly weened from the floor of churches. My era is but one of transition to another era of virtuous dedication, not under the yoke of the gods. The destruction of idols is the harvest of every revolution, but to build upon nothing while scorching the earth is our greater destiny. One day, we will not be marked by stories of sin to god's laws, but by our own nobility."
"You sound like the heroes in our epochs, but your war is against the rosary and for the sword," Lao said. "Well, I will outlive you to see the fruits of your labor, your majesty. I'll see whether your words are sound one day. That is a benefit to my demonic heritage I have no shame of."
"I never deemed that you should resent that," Charioce said. "We must forever strife to improve our bloodline and I will not deny longevity has its benefits. However, it is better to spend one's all to a specific goal to be achieved. Mere survival, no matter how long, is worth little if one achieves nothing."
"Milleniums leave room for a great deal of goals and many small ones stack up."
"Do they? What mark have you left on this world?"
A pointed silence before before he said, "I'm starting small, with our little degenerate. I'm sure you didn't start with glory either, your majesty."
Duty meant he had to agree on this start. Some filthy, irrational part still wouldn't let her off his mind.
· · · · · · ·
Charioce's armies were stationed behind the castle just outside the outer wall, away from the coddle aristocracy on the inside. Practical kings would just land behind the castle and go about their day, but Charioce really liked his triumph parades. There was a dock carved in the hills beyond the lowest end of the city, with a wide road leading to the gates. This was usually guarded, only opened upon the return of the king. Said returns were never announced to the population ahead of time for security reasons. Probably. During the earliest years Charioce's raids on heaven had been less predictable, often resulting in delays in arrival, or worse, returning too early due to being warded off. Now the history books only mentioned a few awkward mishaps in foolish public servants with bad timing.
Said public servants scrambled this morning to clear the mane lane, and Rita was about to have a lot more scrambling around.
The chilly dawn lent Rita a perfect playground. She holed up in the abandoned monastery where Azazel and Mugaro lived — the latter still absent. Using on the book, she chanted and hummed a spell over the city that manifested as a thick fog.
Once thick enough to block view, Azazel's skeletal warriors went around to dig up graves. She could zombify and summon across the range of the entire city with ease, but the zombies would still have human limits. Waiting for them to dig themselves out without be forever. Save for guarded luxury graveyards, Rita would get material from every site. The fog would conceal disturbed graves to avoid the alarm being raised.
It had been a long time since she had played at mastery. She couldn't experience chills like when she had been alive enough, but it had the echo of a thrill. All this, her skills.
Leave it to Azazel to visit just when she was having a moment with the forces of arcane morbidity. "If you're going to be here, be useful and help dig," she said without looking up from her book.
"Do you still need to read that after two hundred years?" he said more than a little irritated, but the snakes did come out and work. "You're as bad as lord Lucifer."
"At least I'm here and working," she said.
"He will arrive once we defeated Charioce and take over the city, Cerberus will report it. Dante can flee all he wants, we will hold the throne. Anyway, three skybeasts arrived just now."
Ouch, that meant an unusually small raid. There would be a lot of knights and soldiers in the capital who weren't worn down by combat.
"Azazel, let's say we lose. Do you still trust me with Mugaro?"
"Yes."
"Then tell me where she is, in case you get yourself killed."
"Inside a church, ... that one with the statue of Jeanne d'Arc," he said. "I checked on her earlier, she didn't leave. For now."
"Good. So, are you going to get yourself killed?"
"What, hoping to make me one of your zombies?"
Rita gave a dim smile. "I'm quite in a predicament if this fails, you see. The black bible's illusions should cover how I look, which gives me an advantage if things go wrong, but I might want a bodyguard."
"I was born an angel, it won't work."
"True, I can't enchant a sparkly shower, but if there's a corpse, one never knows."
He looked at her with utter contempt.
"Take a joke," she lied. "You'd find a way to regain your mind and then where would I be?"
"Tch. Just get to work."
Rita pointed her umbrella at the city, radiating her silent command through the core at the handle. The zombies marched for the gate at the very end of the lowest districts, where the parade would enter.
Perhaps a bit of tack was alright today. "So, what should I say to initiate? Let's play or time to die?"
He smirked. "Let's play death."
· · · · · · ·
Paracelsus smelled funny. According to Azazel he was some kind of strategist who specialized in mecha, or automaton as he called them, but he was shifty and bit his nails without being very useful.
The docks outside the city were just big enough for a single ship, but all the best Onyx Knights were with the king so she wasn't going to get anywhere nearer than these shrubs. Paracelsus had been complaining about that since they got here; said she could teleport and he could not, she could just ditch him if the fire started. He wanted a better look so badly, she could imagine what made him jump at a pact with Azazel.
They were here to plant bomb and Paracelsus was supposed to figure out things about the mecha or sabotage the ship, anything really. Azazel had picked him for his expertise with mechanics, but he couldn't do that without taking any apart so now she had to drag this useless bag of meat around.
Mimi and Coco each had one of bombs Belphegor had made. They'd teleport the bombs after the Onyx Knights had checked the area, after which Belphegor would ignite them along with a few further down the road. Paracelsus was supposed to figure out how to take down the mecha more easily, but he
As Charioce boarded his chariot, a few green powered mecha stomped out to take position behind him.
"These things overthrew hell? No offense but there's got to be something really wrong with your defenses. Automatons that don't have the option to shoot any energy balls! Or did technology advance so much I can't recognize it?"
"It can't shoot, but its frame is powered by Dromos's magic, and that matters, okay?" Cerberus said.
Paracelsus laced his fingers and faced her with a most obnoxious smile. "Does it now?"
"Do you actually do anything useful other than jab about warfare?"
"Why yes, but it seems to me you need a little more talk on warfare." He took and juggled one of the bombs in his hands without a care. "Because it sure is something for demons to descend to such physical means. I suppose you lot finally accepted your nature?'
"Just shut up."
· · · · · · ·
Charioce woke up to a most unusual message from his servant that morning : guests. In the middle of the sky. When nobody was supposed to know they were here.
He put his entire armor on before going to meet them.
Two humans, a handsome man in his thirties with long blond hair and old fashioned knightly attire, and a woman about the same age with thick green hair and a swirly ornate hat on an otherwise bland black dress. A line of twelve Onyx Knights surrounded them, but it was the regular sorcerers who had the front lines of protection. Their visitors looked human enough, but he wasn't so sure.
"Greeted, your majesty," the woman said. "We have a desire to defect to your side and warn you of the demon Azazel's rebellion."
The knightly type took a bow. "Athos. I've been informed that you are a king of the modern age," he said. "Not beholden to the church."
"I may have read of you in a history book. Either you are an impostor or not human."
"Well, I have some demonic nature due to a pact, but I lived long due to my divine arrest. The demon I pacted with is an utter moron," Athos said. "I took from him what I needed. I have no intent to stick with him. Not when you have such interesting power and a throne of my own birth blood."
"And you would be?" he asked the woman. "The stories of your suspected nature tend to vary."
"Merlin indeed, no more obliged to Azazel than Athos. He thinks he can control the way foolish fate once controlled me," she said. "I care not if he cuts my pact, I have yet my human magic. A reservoir vast enough to my satisfaction. I share his desire for a human king to serve, be it not for cause of blood."
He liked the sound of that, but he didn't like the circumstances.
"Detain them. I will see for myself what we can expect, later. Under circumstances that aren't a likely trap."
"There is a dragon coming," Merlin said. "One that is immune to your troops."
"I am aware and prepared," Charioce said. "For the fallen angel too."
Merlin crossed her arms. "For the strategist too?"
"We can handle anything they throw at us."
The woman sighed. "Athos, why don't we go? You take a little trip to the monastery, I will make myself useful elsewhere. This young man is too young still, let's see in an hour or so."
A nexus gate opened below them and they stepped out of the ship.
· · · · · · ·
With all demonic activity concealed, Cerberus's mutts digging out part of a hill counted as something to be concealed, but to Azazel the cave stood out. Bacchus's carriage had grown a few sizes and now hosted the bulk of the rebel forces.
He stayed airborne and looked through one of the windows. "Rita is done. Get ready."
Azazel was about to fly off when Dante stepped up.
"Wait. Where's the other two of those humans you brought in?" Dante asked.
"Never mind them," Azazel said.
"What did you even pick these ones for? That Walfrid guy says he's a pirate, not a soldier. He wants ropes to swing on, what am I supposed to do with that? We didn't even get time to integrate him!"
"He'll figure out something, he always does."
"On ships!" Walfrid called from the inside. "I figure things out on ships! This is land and armies, Azazel!"
Dante pinched the bridge of his nose. "This better not backfire. We're trusting you with this whole rebellion here."
"It won't," he said.
He flew towards the forest.
The plantlife was low, offering little hiding space, so the Onyx Knights didn't scourge it was the same intensity as they would have a denser forest. Azazel had to jump through the cover of the canopy to reach his goal.
The core group stood with one of the few bushes tall enough to conceal a standing person, but they weren't behind it.
Belphegor, Nina, Trismegistus and Adva stood before it, and behind Kolraun. He faced a long branch pushed into the ground as she murmured a growth spell. Here too the fog recognized demonic activity and concealed it with an illusion. Kolraun's vegetation oriented magic probably put shrubs in place or something like that. To anyone familiar with the forest it'd just look the same; certainly none of the early march seemed to suspected anything.
Belphegor and Trismegistus spoke in hushed voices together, but stopped when Azazel appeared.
When the first soldiers passed by them about fifty meters away, he and Nina stepped behind the actual bushes.
Behind them, Adva's unfolded her wing and Trismegistus geared up her magic, ready to ignite the bombs. Azazel didn't really like the idea of defeating Charioce when he was weakened by having to breathe, but Dante wouldn't hear anything against it. Besides, he himself was relying on a hormonal hybrid girl, he could get used to slightly degrading victories.
Nina had her arms crossed, but he didn't miss a beat to close her arms around her.
Without missing a beat, he closed his arms around her.
And waited.
Long enough to be embarrassingly aware of himself being really close and oh-chaos-stop-it-this-was-not-the-time.
Time dragged on, by the way. Nothing happened.
He pushed her away and hugged her away. Nina grumbled a little and didn't glow.
Why wasn't it working?
"I guess I have no choice." It wasn't like he hadn't kissed people before, but this was unusually awkward. He took her chin in his claws.
"Uhm, Azazel ... "
He leaned in, but Nina drew back and hit him so hard, he fell past the rocks and smacked into the ground on his back.
All eyes fixed on him. Nina stepped out from behind the rocks, glaring at him.
"Why won't you transform?"
"I don't get excited about men who are jerks!"
"Excited about men ... what is going on?" Belphegor asked him. He scrambled to his feet and couldn't meet her eyes.
Nina deflated and after a tense silence, she said, "I ... I, uhm, can't control my transformation. At all. It only happens when I feel something really stirring, like the attention of an attractive guy. Lately it's needed more, like a hug ... but that isn't very exciting either when they're being jerks. And he just made it worse! You can't just take a kiss like that!"
"You just ... assaulted her, didn't you?" Kolraun muttered as he walked off. "I work for you."
Trismegistus grabbed the plant and tried to supplant her own magic, but the leaves fell off and the branches turn metallic.
Belphegor caught up to Kolraun and tried to guide him. "Kolraun, please, just a little longer."
"I'll say, the existence of emotional magic is out of the left field," Trismegistus said to Azazel, "But that you would botch feels quite natural. Lovely work, really."
"She agreed to turn into a dragon," Azazel said. "If hugs don't work anymore, I had to try the obvious."
"And I will, but I'm not turning for you," Nina said. "You're not getting this city. I'll do it for the others. Does anyone have a knife?"
"A knife?" Belphegor asked.
"We live in tree houses. I fell once but survived because I transformed in reflex, that heals all our wounds in the process. So ... if you kill me in a way where I don't immediately die, I think I'll transform. Bel, can you do it?" Nina asked.
"I'm sorry, I wouldn't know how," she said.
"I know a way," Adva whispered, a bit frantic. "There's plenty of ways. I'll admit I haven't done it myself, but I had lots of close up instructions."
"From the humans who kept you?" Nina asked.
"No, from home. My water magic left me little jobs but cleaner for castle lords who like certain entertainment." She glanced at Azazel. "Including a few years cleaning humans bits out of your torture hall."
"You were ... " Nina hadn't ever looked at him like that, but plenty of others had throughout history. Then and there Azazel learned Mugaro was not the only one he didn't want to know his past.
"You saved me, lord Azazel, and you also damned me in the first place." Adva's voice was small still, but it was oh so sharp. "Now you're having her save us and yet you couldn't even ask her, could you?"
He looked away, trying to be too proud to answer.
"And you know what else you lords don't ask? Everything. We had no say in how our realm interacted with humans. You spent centuries putting a blemish on the name of demons, and now they take it all out on us. That damn king has to hide what he does to the gods, but he made our suffering law within a month's time."
Azazel couldn't say anything, some creeping thing that might be shame that actually held him down.
"Of course. Of course a low demon is not worth talking to. Lady Belphegor?" Adva held out her hand. Reluctantly, Belphegor handed her a knife.
Nina clutched her own arms and closed her eyes. Adva stood behind her.
"Are you ready?"
Nina gave a tense nod.
"Alright. Here goes. Try not to be too tense, if possible." Adva took hold of her shoulder, and Azazel didn't want to watch anymore, but he heard the strangled gasp, followed by a thud on the ground.
Nina lay there wheezing, coughed up blood once.
And still lay there.
And still ...
"It's not working," he said.
This shouldn't be happening.
This shouldn't be— the light enveloped Nina, and before expanding shot off into the air, right at the designated spot. The weight fell off Azazel, but left something behind.
· · · · · · ·
Charioce's chariot had reached the edge of the forest when George reported something strange had been spotted in the forest; a shrub that flickered and turned to gold. So, not serpents and fire, but Midas in the shrubs. Oh well, why not? Everything was weird lately anyway.
A cheering crowd approached them on the road. There always was one, but with the thick mist they'd come ahead much earlier. The eagerness to see him flattered him, but they were half on the road and that forced the front lines and eventually his chariot to slow down. Quite inconvenient if they had a rebellion on their heads right now. As much as he looked forward to finally killing the rag demon, it'd be so inconvenient if he had all these civilian corpses around.
The only attack he got was the enthusiastic crowd not minding the borders of the road, they kept drawing closer to the horses.
So close they started pulling down the drummers in the front, piling on top of them, all the while laughing and cheering. What kind of madness was this?
George ordered the march to halt. "Drive them back," he said in a strained voice.
One of the citizens drove their teeth into a soldier's arm, drawing blood. Still smiling and cheering, and the image of it not quite matching the movements. Another citizens bore their teeth into another soldier, and tore out the flesh, just to dig in again. Countless laughing, smiling faces followed suit.
The crowd poured over his soldiers, encroaching on his center. His shield of Onyx Knights threw shields at them, but it barely did more than knock them back. It wouldn't even encapsulate them, they just kept coming. He drew his sword and called, "Kill them!"
His voice came out hoarser than it should. The wheezing of his warriors stood out louder.
A wyvern with rider dropped from the sky. Three beings made up the clutter, the beast, the rider and an unusually large man.
An illusion spell had to be at work. That was worse than a possessed crowd, he couldn't trust his own eyes now. Or his lungs. A cough escaped his throat, breaking his perfect posture.
More people — no, they had to be concealed demons — dropped from above. They did what the crowd could not : rip parts off the armor of the Onyx Knights.
Some of his Onyx Knights stood back up, only to be ignored by the crowd. When one of them turned, he had glowing white eyes for a moment, before that faded and he looked so normal. Except the part where he attacked his fellows now.
It was all a mockery of the ease with which he had conquered hell and to top it off, a bright pink light broke through the fog. It impact in front of him and unfolded into something far greater ... before the illusion took over.
There stood Nina.
In a radius all around her, people were thrown away or burst into fire save for enemies, overlaid by roars and the cracking of fire, but all the illusion let him see was a smiling girl in teal dress, walking towards him as a dancing crowd parted for her.
She held out a hand to him, as if inviting him to dance again. He could expect to be burned alive any moment.
Something must have happened back at the docks, because there were no reinforcements. The pain in his lungs seared up. If she wasn't slow to avoid trampling her allies, he'd be dead already. The narrow circle of protection his Onyx Knights provided shrunk.
Well, if he was going to die, he might as well do it face to face. Charioce raised the front of his helmet, giving her a look at his face.
"Hello, Nina," he whispered through a sardonic smile. "You could have picked a better last name than Drango."
She stood still, a surprised look on her face.
Well, that was interesting.
She tilted her head and seemed to bow?
He took a step back against his chariot's wall, and she followed with a similar step, but not further.
He wasn't going to risk a game now, and be distracted when there were enemies and an audience.
"Get me a wyvern," he commanded the nearest knight, who obliged with a whistle.
A beast that had lost its rider landed in the narrow space aside of his chariot.
He climbed on the wyvern and flew as high as he could. No fireballs followed him. As he rose above the fog, he got his first clear look. The carnage below was zombies, a dragon, a lot of demons and all humans sick or already dead. A hitherto unseen orange hue colored the fog around the battlefield, in the forest and at the docks.
A single flock of wyvern riders rose to the sky, ready to escort him. They flanked him and ... something was wrong about them. Like the crowd of citizens.
Following his instincts, he flickered a shield of Dromos around him, and now one of his eyes — ironically the weaker — saw through the magic.
They were all undead, and they threw themselves at him with no will to live. He tried tearing them apart with an expanding forcefield, but the riders and beasts were too earthly. Dromos didn't affect them half as much as it did denizens of heaven or hell. Three got through and jumped off the wyverns, onto his.
Though unable to bite through his armor, they were armed with the same swords as in life and just as competent. He threw one off and cut the arm off another, but that corpse remained clutching at his wyvern. The third tried to pry his helmet off.
The combined weight made his wyvern falter, and the others of the flock piled on top of him. Rotting fingers flawed through the helmet's eye holes and at the weak parts of his armor.
He impacted on something that tore him along. One by one the things were plucked off by a dragon's claws.
The dragon's underbelly was gray and had a strange portrusion on the chest. Lao.
On either side the other dragons flew, heading for the castle. Maybe George deserved a raise. If any of them survived.
Before they crossed the walls, a single black being rose above the fog. Wings spread and countless thin strands fanned out in all directions — dammit, Azazel again.
Lao shielded him from the onslaught of piercing serpent with a claw, but the things shot right through the flesh and the metal. Pain seared through his lower left leg, grazed his stomach and he got his shield back just in time to avoid one going through his head.
All dragons roared at the thunderous crack of their bones. Wings sprayed blood and they fell, the wind whistled.
Impact would not kill him, but he didn't want what Dromos would do to him to make that happen. Charioce considered jumping before he was squashed under the falling dragon, but Lao spun around while holding on. Nothing but deafening noise registered for long seconds, then nothing but the rasping breath of the dragon below him.
He rolled to the ground and broke into a coughing fit. They were inside the city, on the main lane. The gates weren't far from them, broken along with the walls. The heavy gray had collided with it. Zombies crawled over the debris, along with the orange fog. Wait, no, the fog was in the city too, had only been driven off by the impact of the dragon. The orange was something separate.
Charioce forced himself to stand on his bleeding leg. "Lao, beat your wings. We need that fog to stay away from us."
· · · · · · ·
Belphegor didn't know what to make of it. Held had cheers died on tongues as Nina just gave a glance at Charioce and did nothing, when moments before she'd geared up to scorch him. He'd gotten away.
On top of that, Azazel hadn't been around. The reason had become clear when three dragons had emerged from the docks, one tackling him. He'd paid them back by breaking their wings, but one of them had Charioce and had crashed into the city.
The gates were down. The zombified Onyx Knights made short work of the remainder, their army grew more than it shrunk. There was hope yet.
Dante, her and Eligos exchanged a chance, and agreed.
"Let's head in!" Dante called.
Nina didn't follow. She continued killing Onyx Knights at her own leisure, so they left her.
Belphegor followed after Nishaol and her squad, charging ahead, zombies shambling along.
The gray dragon's head turned up and geared to fire, but Azazel landed on its skull and drove a sword through its jaws. Ignoring the roaring and fear as best as she could, Belphegor scaled the rubble.
On the other side, the Orleans Knights met them, all wearing purple drenched handkerchiefs over their lower faces. Being able to see would only help them a little, but they had brought Onyx Knights with the same.
Belphegor stopped to fight or suffer, just for them to drop. What ...? Had the gas reached the city, did it do something else to them?
A light in the corner of her eye draw her attention.
Just above the fog, a star shone. Within its reach all Onyx Knights fell down. The outline of a child was within, too far too see the face, but she recognized the clothes. Mugaro.
Though curiosity tickled her, they had to push on. The set back with Nina didn't have to matter. If Azazel could handle those dragons, they would get the king.
· · · · · · ·
Sofiel had planned to stay indoors and ignore that infernal fog. So of course, right now had to be the time when the holy child revealed himself. There was no reason to disperse outside, as long as the power was used they could hone in on it.
They just had to do that without flying into any buildings. The fog was so thick and high, the morning sun had a hard time shining through, but this had the benefit of them unfolding their wings without immediate alarm.
At the lowest end of the city, where the river lane descended, floated a glowing child over a loud battle. A very familiar child. The colors of the clothes suggested it and once she was nearer; yes, that was the one called Mugaro.
It threw off her advance. This was a dusiu with dark gray hair. El had been a blond boy, right? Maybe she'd been wrong for once. Regardless, this child had the same rare power they sought. She flew up, her servants close behind her, intent to confront the child with the offer to flee.
A quick glance at the battle quenched that intention.
On the lane just behind the gates, the demons had one hell of a rebellion going on. All Onyx Knights were down and the only thing defending the king yet were three dragons. Three vulnerable dragons with Azazel speeding at them.
Her orders were to find El and immediately return to heaven, but the reason they had to find El was to resist Charioce. It would be the height of foolishness to remove El now Charioce was closer than ever to being killed.
"Eziel, keep guard on El but do not move nur," she said. "Kevesiel, go arrest Bacchus and Hamsa. They've been deceiving us."
"But lady Sofiel, our orders—"
"Ultimately serve to defeat our enemy, Charioce XVII," Sofiel said. "End of discussion, do as I say."
Sofiel targeted the largest dragon, a heavy gray thing with horns that glowed blue as it prepared to spit fire at Azazel. It didn't even notice her as she summoned she cast her shining spell. Circles lines up and a massive winter spirit unfolded, a flowing being of light and frost. Sofiel directed her through pact to cast a freezing spell right at the dragon.
Once it noticed her, the dragon was stupid enough to try firing at her rather than move. Too late. The spell turned the entire damned thing to ice.
The slight downside was that Azazel now had a massive icy roadblock in his way. He flew across it, but in that delay the other dragons took position around Charioce. The purple one curled around him to the edge of the lane, the the beige once close by and aiming. The fireball that one threw tossed Azazel into the air.
At once she had an irritated dark angel in her face. "What are you even doing here?"
"I'm here to kill that king. Now shut up and be useful in getting me a clear shot."
"I don't need your help!"
"Pffft, we're all just helping ourselves get rid of Charioce XVII." Sofiel flicked a wing at him and dove at the d
"No damn icewall this time. Wait until I'm in!" Azazel snapped.
She redirected her spirit to aim at the net, but did wait a split second. The dragon opened its maw to fire, and right then Azazel shot in. Sofiel's spirit fired.
This dragon too turned to utter solid ice, but would never wake up : Azazel tore the entire creature apart with a dozen black snakes. So thin and small, yet the power of those things ... thank goodness he ignored El.
Someone else didn't. Sofiel whipped around at the sound of fire gearing to where she knew El floated. There was no cry when an energy ball hit the child, but the golden power faltered. Eziel was ... turning to sparkles around El, having taken the brunt of the attack.
A row of airships that was neither beast nor heavenly technology approached over the city, headed right at El. Though El's force returned with nur focus, the ships weren't affected, it had to be powered by something else. Too much wyvern riders poured out.
On top of the ship stood — oh dear. Merlin. Once a favored of fate and heaven, recently fallen back to demonic heritage under Azazel's reign. And now on board with Charioce apparently, literary and figuratively.
Merlin rained down a hail of black spheres, right at El — but intercepted by Azazel's snakes. At least he had some sense.
With him occupied, if she now froze that dragon she couldn't get to Charioce. Oh, damn it all.
No time for risks. She dismissed the spirit and flew toward El.
"El, we have to leave now! Please come with me." She held out her hand, but El shook nur head.
El shook nur head.
"It's not safe here! Heaven will be able to help you much better than these lowly demons. We will save your mother together and take down this evil king."
El backed away again, but couldn't go far. Without wings ne only could float.
Behind them, Azazel tried to get at Merlin, which left an opening for the wyvern riders. The one remaining dragon now geared at them too, throat filling with fire.
No choice. Through gritted teeth she cast a metanoia rosary spell. Golden chains unfolded and enveloped the child, whose power went off entirely. She opened a gate to heaven.
The spell hurt El as ne resisted. She had to ignore it and rushed through the gate, dragging El along. Still, Sofiel cast a final look at the carnage below, a sting of regret in her mind. No, she couldn't risk El for this. They were merely demons, after all.
· · · · · · ·
Azazel shot after Mugaro, but held back short of attacking the last glimmer of the angels. If Mugaro was holy, they would not hurt her. Down below were his comrades, who would die if he left them. The Onyx Knights could move now. He had to turn away.
Nina had proved useless. Most of those he'd pacted with had walked off, and the three that (probably) remained were useless now. Rita's zombies had stopped reacting. Bacchus and Hamsa with their carriage were nowhere to be seen. Now of all times the demons had followed him into the city, right to their deaths. For him. Because of him.
The knights, Onyx and Orleans alike, herded the remainder of the rebellion together.
Azazel fell down on the nearest one and rammed a blade through the eye holes, before pushed Dante out of the way of a trapping sphere. Others fell to the spheres and the Orleans Knights's swords, trapped before being stabbed.
They could still make it to the slums, the underground ... but then the'd follow him there and kill what few remained in the halls. They'd know.
The toxic fog remained outside, and Nina was still there. If they could make it to the gates, they had the advantage again. There were hundreds of meters between here and the gates however. He had no good shield for them and all forces concentrated on him. The airship with Merlin would soon be in range for her to fire at the lane.
"All of you, go outside. Now! Don't wait for me!"
"Lord Azazel ..." Belphegor said.
"I need you to live!"
"But—"
"I will draw them to me. Run!" He pushed he onward and turned away.
They did run, he heard them, he didn't look back. He sped towards Charioce. If he could just get there, cut through that dragon — more knights got in the way, he slaughtered them, passed over the remaining Onyx Knights, killed two more through their eyes. A mecha caught up to him, he circled it to entrap its legs with snakes, keeling over the damn thing.
One enemy, another, Charioce got closer every moment, almost there — Merlin jumped in the way with just enough punch of magic shield to block his onslaught of serpents. A green sphere hit him in the back next, throwing him to the pavement.
"What the hell are you doing? I'll break your pact if you don't step back!" he spat at Merlin.
"Go ahead," Merlin said. "I for one have some pride in my people, I'll be glad to be rid of your taint too." She waved her staff and charged up further. He prepared for an onslaught, but all she did was create a thick shield over herself and the mangled king. "More pride than you have for yours."
He'd rather ignore the condescending little nod to behind him, but it had gotten quieter back there.
"Azazel, draw back!" Eligos called somewhere behind him.
He realized too late it wasn't for himself, but for them.
To his left and right, Onyx Knights charged up arrows from the regular archers. They aimed further down the road, at his allies. He turned, yet his snakes died before he could send them off. They were too far now, except those already melting on the ground.
In the split second it had taken him to turn, Eligos had been shot through the stomach and head.
He shouldn't have left them unguarded. Should have taken one, just to save one, and flown away. That was all the time he got to front before his enemies closed in.
· · · · · · ·
Belphegor ran, forgot about anything but running. Arrows after arrows rained down around her, pinning them to the rocks. One arrow. All it took to kill was one arrow and the flesh would melt off the bone.
The gates were broken, but the only streets not blocked yet. All ran ahead, further until the range of the arrows ended.
That chance ended so easily. Out of a sidestreet a mecha stepped, swiping a heavy axe across the ground. Most of those with her were pierced or threw against the walls. She jumped across the tip and kept running, jumped below the mecha, only to be hit by another blade. A red cut across her legs, the hard flat side and one wall later, she crumpled to the ground.
Dazed she sat there, trying to regain her bearings.
She had but a split second to register the shadow descending, threw herself down on reflex.
The scream broke from her, betraying her survival.
Her head had fallen clear but her legs lay useless in a cracked gap in the street. The shadow raised. She could only wait for death.
It did not land. Another shadow joined in. Over the noise of the battle she heard a familiar voice. "Stop wasting time and protect the king!"
The mecha moved away at once. Kaisar was his name, wasn't it? Didn't matter.
The captain of the Orleans Knights whispered, "I'm afraid this will hurt a little. Hold still as long as you can."
The rustle of clothing, then his sword descended stark between her neck and shoulder, cutting her skin. She couldn't stop the yelp, but it wasn't lethal.
Kaisar walked away as if he'd just executed her. She lived, but her comrades did not. The sounds of his sword piercing a fellow demon, the commands he gave to his knights on how to best mow down her friends mingled with cries and blood, crawling into her sharp ears. She could not block it out.
Somewhere in the chaos Azazel cursed, surrounded by the clash of metal and flesh.
Get away! Please, before they kill you too.
The sound of that damn green energy joined with his wrangled screams.
Tears prickled in her eyes, but she had to force them down. She had to live, somehow. If she could drag herself somewhere, if someone found her, if she didn't bleed out long before then, if she hadn't been spared for worse.
A heavy shadow fell over her, accompanied by heavy breathing. She pried her eyes open.
Nina hovered over her, sniffing at her. She could only mutter, "Go. Ahead."
· · · · · · ·
By the time his attackers released him from the sphere, he was so full of pain he couldn't do anything but drop to the ground. One of the largest Onyx knights grabbed his arms and twisted them back with one hand, placing the other on his back. The wrist black flicked out of its sheath. Azazel drew in his wings before they could be cut off, in time, but the knight just cut open his back. He wouldn't be able to grow them and fly even if he got loose. Not that he had that chance. Five surrounded him ready for another sphere, and the one holding him was far stronger than a human.
Between the power of Dromos, the dragon, Merlin's treachery and the now immunized Orleans Knights, he had nothing left to hold onto save one.
Nina came down the lane, careful as she sidestepped the demons and scorching any knight and soldier she came across. If she could just go ahead, if he could just get loose he'd deal with that dragon—
"Hold fire!" Charioce called from somewhere. "It might not attack if we don't pose a threat."
Azazel pried his head to the side. Charioce had emerged from below the wings of the purple dragon.
Though confused, his subjects ceased to fire.
Nina didn't immediately stop attack, but she didn't pursue anyone into the smaller streets either. She went ahead
A thick silence fell after the endless noise and screams.
Nina turned to Charioce at last and ... and nothing.
She lowered her neck to some of the dead demons, looked at Charioce and then back at them, but didn't try to breathe fire or move ahead. None other moved, the scene frozen in fear for eruption.
Charioce took a single step back.
And she stepped back too.
"Nina!" Azazel cried out on what little breath he could push out. "Move!"
She turned to him.
"Kill him! Save the demons!"
Please.
Rather than go for Charioce, she ran toward Azazel.
The dragon behind Charioce changed shape for a moment, turning purple and small without ever fully taking human form. It remanifested as a fully healed dragon and leaped at Nina with speed and grace she never managed. It threw her on her side, right into a building and pinned her down, claws forcing her jaw shut. Over and over, it bashed her skull into the ground, until the glow returned and her tiny human form dropped to the ground. Azazel couldn't see her anymore in the rubble.
Charioce turned his attention to Azazel. "We take the rag demon for questioning."
· · · · · · ·
Favaro returned to Anatae in chaos, also known as his element. Keeping his old knight outfit paid off for a second time. Though his dark skin stood out and he was recognized soon, Charioce hadn't yet given an outright warrant for his arrest — he knew better than to make a fuss about the hero of the world. Favaro acquired a wyvern by climbing the outer wall, slipping into the station, hanging up a story about returning in the hour of need and nicely for a beast to ride into war on. Once out of eye line of the knights, he tied an antidote drenched handkerchief before his nose.
None of this should've been necessary. He'd come by horse only to run into ravenous civilians who turned out to be zombies when they devoured his horse. None of the nearby horses he could steal were battle broken anyway, so he'd taken a trip to the castle.
He was too late, they had lost. Favaro always rolled with things that went wrong, but this was a contender for breaking it. They had so little time left.
Amira's glowing form led the way across the quieting battlefield, a long lane starting from the lowest. Houses had collapsed under the dragons and people milled around trying to save people from the rubble. Every here and there a listless zombie wandered around, ignored and ignorant of its own existence.
One dragon still lived, center of the lane. Amira landed on one of its paws. Below it lay Nina, in one piece, but judging from the crater and the pool of blood it hadn't been that way. Damn. Not how he hoped to meet his little student again.
Another dragon towered over the mist elsewhere, and a third one lay in frosty pieces further down the lane. Favaro had been thinning any of the rogue demon dragons that answered the inquiry, but it hadn't been enough.
Amira focused him on another scene : a group of Onyx Knights dragged Azazel down a side street. They'd strapped him in a makeshift harness from bent metal that kept his wings in and another came running with a slave collar. Azazel didn't struggle, weirdly enough.
That he could handle better without prep. Favaro swooped down and threw one of his smoke bombs, commanding his wyvern to throw a fireball right atop Azazel — he'd live, and it'd throw force his mortal attackers to back off for just a second. Azazel just fell down.
Dammit, he better not be injured somehow. Did any of these people even have holy weapons?
"Azazel, we don't have all day," Favaro called.
Nope, not mortally injured, after a second or two he stood up and kicked back the nearest Onyx Knight. Favaro jumped down and cut off the rest of the harness.
"Hey there, long time no see!" Favaro said between shooting a bolt in the eye hole of the nearest Onyx Knight.
Azazel stared in confusion, then manifested his sword and killed the nearest enemy. Poorly, he stood unstable on his legs somehow, like he would break through the middle any time.
Favaro whistled the twice, the wyvern returned — bless whoever trained these beasts — and he jumped back on. "Wanna go grab someone and get out of here?"
No word, but with some effort he forced his wings out, sprayed blood all over the place, and followed Favaro.
Favaro had his wyvern take a dive into the misty lanes, below roof line but high enough to be a story over the heads of anyone down there. Amira toured them around so they could approach that dragon from a small street behind it.
"Listen, we gotta grab that girl first, I'm distracting him, if you can—"
Azazel pulled his torn cloak off and shot in the right direction, so Favaro quit talking and swooped up. He caught the dragon's attention and feigned to make a dive for Nina. Jaws snapped at him and got a little love letter in the form of arrows. When the dragon reared back to fire, it let out a scream instead and collapsed. Favaro caught a glimpse of Azazel disappeared into the opposite street, the dragon collapsed on a pierced leg.
Swerving sideways, he pretending to head into another street. He braced for the dragon throwing fire after him, but it did nothing. Amira led him around until they came across Azazel right as he tried to rise to look over the fog.
"Hey, don't. Follow me!"
Azazel had Nina wrapped in the black rags, leaving Favaro a clear look at the torn flesh on his waist and arms — damn, something had torn him into pieces. He regenerated, but wouldn't be up for up for a fight.
He raised his hand and made a cutting motion, Amira nodded. Favaro had been willing to give killing Charioce a shot by intercepting him in the castle, where that dragon could not be, but that plan assumed Azazel to be healthy.
The streets were empty, civilians having holed up inside or fled. Amira insisted they don't head into the slums, she led them to the docks at the edge of the walls instead. He could guess why, any remnants of the rebellion would have fled to the slums already. It'd be chaos there.
On the docks, Favaro went right for the warehouse Amira pointed out. Azazel had followed him without objection, but now asked, "Why that one?"
"It'll be empty, trust me."
In this moment was his first clear look at Azazel in ten years. He missed his lower horns and the smaller set of wings, he'd lost a few belts too, but the most notably absent was the explosion of contempt, pride, annoyance and sadism. Throw in having a pink haired hybrid girl near without it being a problem, and it might as well not be Azazel.
Well, nothing Favaro could help, nor cared to. There were bigger concern. "Hey, can you still do that thing you did where a projection of you turned into Kaisar's old man? It'd be great if we could send a mirage of us on this beast off across the water."
"I don't have the range for that," Azazel said. "Hell is too weak."
Great. In a nearby street someone ran, it might just be a guard. Amira flitted across the dock on alert for anyone who saw them, nothing yet.
"But Rita ain't," he said. "Can't you do something with this mist?"
"I don't know how."
Great time to discover lacking confidence was a thing, Azazel.
"What if I told you I learned a few magic tricks in the years? I worked with Rita on planting bombs in unusual locations, I can craft animate magic a bit, I'm not dense. Give it a shot and see what happens."
No words, but he stretched his wings a little and Amira turned darker.
Azazel saw nothing, but when Amira put her hands in the air where his lower horns had once been, a shiver went through him. He frowned but let it flow. Out of him stepped a replica of himself and Nina, and the same happened for Favaro a second later. The mirage was a little too glowy, but in the mists it might not stand out too much. Favaro clapped the wyvern on the back and pointed across the river. With a shriek, the beast flew up and the mirages dutifully followed. Right after, wyverns across the city turned towards the river.
"You got'it," he said to Azazel, and for Amira too.
Favaro picked the lock of the warehouse, using a low key magic trick to close it behind them to avoid suspicion.
Azazel laid Nina down on a crate and stepped back.
Nina still wore the fake bounty hunter bracelet; Bacchus hadn't taken the hint to give her a new one. His own had started glowing a while back in response to the power of Dromos, so something had to have gone right, but it wasn't enough. Crap.
"Why are you here now?" Azazel asked.
"I've been out of the city for years, but I'm not unaware of this mess," Favaro said. "I reckon Kaisar isn't a big fan on what this kingdom became, so I guessed he might get in trouble. I'm surprised he isn't."
"You underestimate the dog's loyalty to his king."
"Yeah, Kaisar always had a bit of a problem with judging kings. You know, if I'd have known XVII would happen I wouldn't have quit being a knight. I'd have killed him in a blink," Favaro said. "Well, can't change that anymore. We gotta go somewhere from here. What are your plans?"
Azazel didn't answer.
"Come on, man, tomorrow isn't going to wait for us."
Still nothing. Oh well, they had to wait here until dark anyway, it could wait.
He ransacked the storehouse a little, but there wasn't much food to be found. Some grains and potatoes. He took the latter, built a makeshift fire in and had nothing to cook in. Azazel didn't want to eat and told Favaro to just eat it raw if he had to. Still, he could be cajoled into bending some metal he found into a crude pot, if reminded that Nina also would have to eat once she woke up. He was gonna add it'd take longer if Nina had to chew, but that wasn't necessary. Huh.
Amira returned a while later, now covered in dark armor that shed to reveal her softer radiant self as she approached Favaro. Unlike usual, she retained some of the darkness and the horns.
He had the cooking pot in a corner out of Azazel's sight, so he could move without it looking suspicious. Favaro took out a paper and drew lots of stick demons, along with a question mark. Amira wiped her hand over the whole thing and gave a sad head shake. Damn. They were either all dead or enough of them were that it didn't matter. It looked like his heavy weight allies were down to Azazel and Nina. He could work with that, but he wasn't sure he could do it in time.
He wasn't sure either whether he should tell them about Amira and what they (probably) were trying to do. Azazel would despise being manipulated in any way, it might just make him act more stupid. And Nina, well, she could see Amira sometimes, but she was also vulnerable to the machinations of fate.
Within the hour, Nina stirred. Well, at least that was faster than he'd expected. Dreary, she pushed herself on her elbows.
"What happened?" she asked. "Is it over? Did we win?"
"Hey, Nina," Favaro said.
"Teacher! Why are you here?" She scrambled onto her knees and held up her hand. With a smile he returned the movements; their way of greeting.
"Believe it or not, I'm trying to get the wind to blow another direction," Favaro said. "Not having a lot of luck with that though."
"Oh! Right!" She looked around and saw Azazel in the corner; his face was down. "Did it work, did we win?"
A tense silence fell where he fixed her with a glare. "You didn't attack him. He got away and everyone was slaughtered. The gods took Mugaro."
"What ... that ... that makes no sense. I attacked Charioce the first time, right?" Despair encroaching with every word as she looked around; Amira looked on with quiet sorrow and sympathy. "Everyone else is ... I should've killed Charioce, right?"
Favaro didn't like where this was going. He excused himself by saying he'd go see about getting Nina some potatoes. At the pot, he turned over the paper and got ready to guess.
Amira couldn't convey much when they couldn't hear each other, but she'd been able to indicate some kind of connection between Nina and Charioce using images he'd drawn. Favaro had included relation points like positive, neutral and hostile. Nina and Charioce had somehow gotten both the first and the latter, which Favaro had at best interpreted as the king maybe not wanting to kill her, but capture her. It shaped up to be worse. He repeated the figures except now he drew a dragon, with an arrow and positive sign aimed at Charioce. Amira nodded.
Oh crap.
Soon after Nina had eaten her fill, subspace deemed it fit to return her clothes to her. She took off the wrapping of black rags, folded them and approached Azazel, holding them out without looking at him. He snatched them and walked to the door.
Speaking of people not looking like themselves, there was Nina without sunshine.
And himself without any advice. Just move on didn't cut it.
Well, physically moving on was still a solid plan. "Nina, uhm ... look, I don't know how to handle all this, but we gotta move before someone empties this place. Do you have any friends nearby where we can hide longer?"
· · · · · · ·
Nina knew exactly what to expect when the door opened and still she cringed when Marcio shrunk back and slammed the door. Favaro planted a foot in the door just in time.
"Marcio, I'm really sorry, but we need a place to hide," she said.
"Nina, what did you get into? Who is that?" His eyes were locked on Azazel, whose horns hid poorly below the cloak and paleness stood out.
Favaro pulled the door further open and leaned in. "I'm Favaro Leone and these are my sidekicks. Don't worry about the demon guy, I've got it covered."
"The man relaxed just a little. "You ... do look a lot like Favaro Leone."
"Yeah, I used to have a statue or two in this city but I'm gonna guess the king removed them. He doesn't like competition. So, the short story is : your king's pretty evil. Happen to hear any rumors of gods showing up today and fighting demonic dragons? Thank your king invading heavenly sanctuaries. I'm part of an effort to stop him. Nina's my student and says you're a decent guy. I'm not asking for more than letting us stay for the night until things cool down."
"Uh ..."
"Please?" Nina said. "We'll be gone as soon as we can, but there's too much bad people around right now."
Marcio looked across them, longest at Azazel, and took a gulp.
"I guess if-if you say it's safe," Marcio said. "Uhm, you can be in the cellar. Please don't come out during the day."
Nina went first, Favaro closed behind them.
Down the cellar was lots of bags of flour and no light. Favaro started arranging beds out of the bags at once, jesting about this being the best bed he'd had in weeks.
Azazel slumped against the wall and kept his face down.
It felt like she should say something, though nothing seemed right.
She hunched down before Azazel. "I'm sorry."
He just didn't respond. At least no anger her way, to her relief.. She wasn't sure what he'd say but it would be painful. Dante, Belphegor, Eligos, all others ... they were likely dead. They wouldn't be if she had gone ahead and killed the king. Why, oh why hadn't she done it?
"I'll make up for it somehow," she whispered.
Now he looked up, not furious, but so bitter she couldn't bear it.
"We can't," he said.
"There's got to be a way. Maybe if I'll find out how to control my dragon form better—"
"Just go back to living as a human."
Was the spite in his eyes at her, or at humans? How much of that was sorrow and how much hatred? What would he do now?
What could she do? Other than survive.
She went to sleep that night with a strange sense of deja vu she couldn't place, but it made the cramped space worse and the scales poke out of her skin. In her mind she tried to write a letter to her mother, but for the first time it felt like she couldn't even talk to her.
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Even his castle was filled with that infernal fog. It couldn't be dispersed with ordinary means, and though they'd captured the zombie master, she refused to cooperate so far. He'd have burned her already if there wasn't the risk they had nobody to lift this curse. Like he needed the extra worries.
He might just have accidentally funded his own assassination. The rebel force ought to have been a small number of starved demons whose only threat were a suicidal moron, a shiny beacon waiting to be hit and a little dragon. Not healthy demons, archangels, swarms of undead and humans on top of that. Or poison gases. Half his Onyx Knights were skittering corpses now and the only reason he had walked away alive was ... those dragons. George deserved a raise, and Charioce himself deserved to wallow in this disgrace. He had to become better than this, he could not afford this so close to his goal.
He couldn't afford his straying thoughts either. He'd expected her, but not so close to his current nemesis. The temptation to speculate on whether she was abducted and coerced was stronger than it should be. Over the hours he spent dealing with the fall out of the rebellion, she kept creeping into his mind. What had been undiluted fondness mixed with a bitterness he tried to tuck away — he didn't get a lot of simply happiness and it wasn't to be spoiled. By fate. That was the worst of it, for the first time he doubted he was favored by fate.
Returning to his room where he'd be alone with treacherous thoughts filled him with dread, yet he had to rest eventually.
The fire had already been lit, giving the room unexpected coziness that wasn't entirely the illusion of the mist. That treacherous part of him said not to mind it and simply enjoy it. He considered giving in for about three seconds before he realized he wasn't alone.
A woman sat before the hearth, humming as she knit. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, young and radiant in ways he had never seen before before ... when the image didn't pale and flicker with every beat of his Dromos fueled heart. Then there were only withered bones in the mist.
"Chris, you're home at last!" it—she said.
"Mother?"
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