Place names are borrowed from the *Divine Comedy* and *Paradise Lost*.
Warning: Mild (triggering?) sexual content.
Enjoy!
Chapter 23
Bridging the Gap
Another creepy hallway. It was even darker than the first.
And colder… much colder.
Staggering, Pipit put forth an intrepid effort, attempting to distance himself from the demon lord as much as he could. But, it was dim, and he was disorientated, confused about what had just taken place.
Was this nothing more than a dream?
He wasn't sure…
The circumstances hinted toward an unconscious state. He could still be laid out on his lavish hotel bed for all he knew.
But, for the pain…If it were not for the discomfort that had left him helpless in the demon's arms just a short time before, and for the sheer reality of Ghirahim's sword strikes, he could have easily sided with the theory of a dream.
However, could dreams truly invoke such sensation? Everything that he had felt in both mind and body had been vivid; too intense for a mere dream.
Many an opportunity to relive the horror had presented itself to Pipit in the past eleven years. Not surprisingly, his unguarded subconscious had gladly deliciated.
How many hours of his slumber had been taken up by a veracious replay of that first incident with Instructor Calwren? Dozens? No, more than that. Hundreds was more like it, although thousands could very well have been more fairly suited to accuracy. Countless nights his memories had burst through the floodgates, proving that daily suppression often led to unrelenting nightmares.
Pipit suspected that, tonight, yet another peace-stealing dream had befallen him. At the same time, this circumstance was worse than usual.
Never before had his dreams been visited by him - the demon.
Pipit's fingers combed through his dark hair. Somewhere between shambling and jogging, his feet faltered. As the toe of his leather boot caught the right-hand wall, he tripped, barely holding to his equilibrium. His shoulder met the coarse stone, abrading traces of wool from his sleeve.
With asperous steps, he came to a stop.
Did what just happened…really happen?
Finally free of his misery's facilitator, Pipit released his hold on the emotion that had been warring for the upper-hand. Pushing against the wall, he gripped his face.
Grief-stricken, he slid down the wall, catching streams of tears in his palms.
The scene in the deserted corridor was perfectly still and serenely quiet, aside from Pipit's jolting shoulders and sharp gasps. Shaking his head, he crumpled down, disbelieving, overcome…
He didn't feel right. He felt like a little boy, tossed inside the shell of one much larger than himself, a body that he could never hope to fill out; an older, more mature mass of flesh and blood that he didn't deserve to inhabit.
The demon's assertion that Pipit had never cried over his own troubled past had been correct. But, tonight, the young man's tearless streak met its demise.
He was racked with several minutes of voiceless sobs. His lungs tightened. His heart pounded and his throat ached. Pressing his face to the wall and dropping his hands, he sat, drawing shallow, almost useless breaths. He shut his eyes, sending more salty drops down his cheeks. Not bothering to wipe them away, they dripped off of his chin.
The demon's cruelty and ruthless taunting had been enough to render even the most stoic of persons broken.
The painful reenactment laid claim to much of Pipit's despair. Yet, the majority of his distress was due to something worse - an undeniable realization.
This manifestation of anguish came not only because the memories themselves were agonizing, or because acting them out was beyond unthinkable. No. A harsh truth had been thrown in Pipit's face – something that he had known all along but didn't want to admit, something that had followed him around like a specter, looming, waiting for that evanescent window of opportunity…
With a gulp and a hiccup, he slouched, gasping, in shock, not knowing what he was doing.
Lifting his shaking hands, he strained to see his left index finger. It was free of Ghirahim's grasp, yet it still burned with the remnants of something awful, and not at all unknown to him. He drove the side of his fist into the wall several times, attempting to destroy the evidence.
Unfortunately, it resided in his mind, as well. That particular flame would be much harder to snuff out.
Searching for his composure, Pipit sighed, fighting back a fresh bout of tears. He had to get up.
Seconds away from giving himself the push that he needed, he hesitated.
His ears twitched at the sound of feet strolling toward him from behind. With a stuffy head and foggy eyes, he aimed an ear to the sound.
A nearly unnoticeable swish could be detected.
A soft rustle, a sweeping breeze, a distinguished fragrance. Then, a hand settling on his shoulder. He didn't resist it. He simply dipped his head, turning just enough.
Silence winnowed the still air. Pipit inhaled, sensing a face over his shoulder.
"I knew you wouldn't get far," the demon whispered, a fusion of hot and cold teasing Pipit's delicate skin. His eyes closed and his body furled toward the voice. "Your shame wouldn't allow for it, now would it?"
Adroit fingertips found the tip of his ear, fondling it, teasing, trailing down to the silver loop. Pipit bit his lip.
"I thought you were letting me go…" Pipit said in a choked voice.
"Just kidding," the demon crooned, pressing his chest to Pipit's back, overtaking him from behind. "But, soon, sky knight, soon." Both of the demon's hands rested on him, caressing his shoulders. The touch sent chills down his spine. He gave a heavy, agitated sigh. His head rolled, bringing his face to the demon's.
"You don't really want to leave, do you, sky knight?" Pipit squirmed, struggling against the intrusive touch. "Your first lesson, so many years ago, ended much differently than this. As I recall, and I'm sure you do too…" The demon's voice was saturated with lust. It was so sensual, so absorbing… "You left the junior knight academy sparring hall completely breathless, did you not?" His hand dropped to grip the human's chest. "Not just breathless, but throbbing, pulsating in a way that had amazed and enthralled you, opening your eyes to something brand new. Something your virginal body had never experienced before."
Pipit didn't move.
"You know, sky knight…" Ghirahim nipped at the young man's ear, reaping a shiver from him. "There's something…important that you might find fascinating about this instructor of yours…" In wonderment, Pipit gaped.
"What?" he rasped. "What do you mean?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" The demon chuckled. Pipit's face began to sizzle.
"Get off me!" he roared. Shaking loose the demon's grasp, he pushed off of the floor with his hands and feet, shooting forward. He had to get away, or he was doomed. But, with a regrettable two paces behind him, his enemy jumped ahead, latching a hand around his ankle. An exasperated cry flew from his mouth as he crashed to the floor, scrambling, scraping his fingernails against the stone. With the widest of smiles, the demon traveled up his frantic body, hand over hand, feeling its warmth, watching it fight, feasting on the sight and smell of its rising fear. Vapors the shade of his tunic swirled in the air, lighting up the dark.
Flattening the human to the floor with his bodyweight, Ghirahim pinned his once flailing wrists.
With the oxygen pilfered from his crushed lungs, Pipit tried to twist, endeavoring to ease the pressure on his chest.
"Why do you wage such a fierce battle against me, human?" the demon sang, squeezing Pipit's thrashing torso between his knees and rubbing his thumbs over his hands. "You should know by now that to injure you is not among my vested interests at the moment."
Furious, Pipit was almost unable to talk. The audacity, the unmitigated effrontery that it took to be this malicious was past the point of understanding. It was mindboggling.
This demon gave Instructor Calwren a run for his money in the 'impenetrable cruelty' department. The two certainly shared several perfidious characteristics.
No…Ghirahim was more treacherous than any man, including Calwren. Pipit's teacher might have given in to and acted upon his hunger for innocent flesh, but the demon thrived on embroiling a person in the inconceivable – a contained world of wretchedness. A place where old wounds were reopened, where ugly scars were uncovered, and where the dormant was needlessly enlivened.
And he did it just for kicks…
In fact, Pipit was so offended, so livid, and so distraught that his emotions began to shut down. Skewing, they transformed into something much different than what they rightly were. Self-preservation took the helm; a coping mechanism was put into play.
This villain's actions were so detestably nefarious and self-serving that it was, in a way, amusing.
Yes. Amusing. That's what it was. It was funny, after all, to be on your face in an unknown location, with a large, sadistic man sitting on you, overpowering you as if he was a bear subduing a field mouse.
It was hilarious, unquestionably, to be dragged away from a place of safety and thrown into a personal hell; to be at the mercy of someone who more than likely made wrongful, immoral conduct their designated way of life. Being made to believe that you had been set free, only to have that hope pulled out from under you like a rug, was practically hysterical.
So hysterical, actually, that Pipit just had to laugh. So, he did.
It was then that he knew why Link couldn't bear to confess the truth about this scoundrel, and what unspeakable things he had done.
The demon's eyes came down, aglow with curiosity.
"Something you'd like to share with the class, knight?" he asked. Judging by the sound of his voice, Pipit knew the ruffian was smiling. Making him wait, Pipit ignored his question. Arching his brow, Ghirahim let his grin fade. "Is something funny, human?"
With a suffocated chuckle and a smirk of his own, Pipit decided to speak up.
"Oh, a lot. A lot is funny," he fumed.
"Like?" the demon asked with unbridled enthusiasm.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Pipit mocked.
"Mm," Ghirahim droned, "watch that loose little tongue of yours, sky knight, or I'll put it to work in ways that would shame what you just did to that girl."
"You really wanna know what I find so funny?" Pipit asked, his forwardness grabbing his enemy's attention.
"You have sparked an exquisitive reaction in me, human." Ghirahim's tongue flipped assuredly.
"Well, first of all," Pipit began, laying a cheek to the floor, "I think it's pretty damn funny that no matter what you do, ever, you can never be the first to rape me." He held back a giggle. "'Cause it's already been done. A barrel of laughs, isn't it?"
"Uproarious," the demon calmly responded.
"Second, you probably think I'm scared shitless right now. But, I just realized something - I've survived it many times before. I'll survive it again."
"How brave of you."
"That's not all. Far from it. There's a whole laundry list of things I find amusing at the moment." Ghirahim frowned at Pipit's strident manner. "Most of all, I find the future scene of your horrific and gory death to be downright sidesplitting." Pipit set free a snicker. "Now that will be a thing of beauty." A flash of annoyance crossed the demon's face.
"You are shortsighted, human. Not only that, but your statement drips with irony." With a deft twist, Pipit was flipped onto his back, straddled by the demon. Inhaling, he felt his wrists recaptured by forceful hands. "When all is said and done, human, you, along with so many others like you, will be the one sampling this thing called death." The torrent of passionate words flowed from the demon's mouth like daggers, both threatening and foreboding. "Not only will you sample it, but you will savor it, thanking the Goddess that she has allowed it to take you, the only shield against the suffering that I will personally oversee."
"I don't believe anything that comes out of that vile mouth of yours," Pipit argued. The demon brought his sneer closer.
"What you believe matters not," he growled, grinding Pipit's spread arms into the floor.
"You really know how to fuck with people, don't you?" Pipit inveighed, observing the tip of the unsettling tongue before him. "You seem to have a flair for it. Trouble is, it's useless beyond just making people feel like crap." The pair's narrow eyes were deadlocked.
"Not as useless as one might suspect in his pitiably limited mind."
"What, you mean there's some underlying scheme at work here?" Pipit asked.
"I don't know," Ghirahim sighed, brushing their mouths. "What is your brilliant conjecture, knight?" His tongue slithered out, pushing Pipit's mouth open, tantalizing him. Less inhibited due to ire, he didn't fight it. "Stanch your words, human, and you might just learn something."
With his own agenda urging him on, Pipit assented, allowing the demon access.
"Mmm!" Pipit mumbled, gagging at first. Holding nothing back, the demon continued restraining his body, pushing him down with fervor. Hacking straight through his pleasure center, Ghirahim's carnal energy filled him, replacing an unpleasant feeling with oblectation.
There was no denying it – from his head to his toes, Pipit was blanketed by a wonderful sensation, much stronger than even the most gratifying feeling he had experienced with his curly-haired lady friend earlier that evening.
"Mmmmygddsses," he moaned, curling beneath the demon.
"Enjoying yourself, human?" The demon admired Pipit's astounded glare.
Blinking slowly, Pipit sensed a pleasurable withdrawal. His fingers grasped at the air. Ghirahim chuckled at his heavy breaths.
"It's always more fun when you're angry, knight."
With a tidal wave of pleasure washing over him, Pipit jerked, fighting against the demon's hold. He moaned again.
"Thank you for keeping me up-to-date, human."
"Up-to-date? I thought you knew everything already…?"
"Most."
"Why did you bring me here?"
"You will find out in time."
"What?"
"Your old instructor is not who you think he is, dear boy."
A sharp gasp pierced the quiet hall. Glaring, Pipit grew warmer. His anger rose. Pulling away, he freed his lips.
"What the hell does that mean?" His mouth was pursued once more. He flung his face to the side. "Is that why you brought me here?" In one rapid movement, the demon crossed Pipit's wrists over his head, pinning them single-handedly. His other hand came down to clutch his face. Pipit gritted his teeth and pulled. Furious that the demon so adored feeding him just enough information to kindle his curiosity, yet not enough to tell him anything, he slammed his feet to the ground, pushing up.
He knew that Ghirahim was about to join with him again, and that he was powerless to stop it. Fed up with battling his foe's unequaled strength and esoteric speech, he dug his heels in, determined to go down in a blaze of glory.
"Something along those lines, sky knight."
With zeal, Ghirahim came upon him.
"There's more to it than just some need to indulge an arcane desire, isn't there?"
Having trouble focusing through the pleasance that was spreading through his body, Pipit silently demanded an answer from the demon.
"Correct, human."
Pain penetrated Pipit's wrists as Ghirahim tightened his grip. The young man willed the ache away. Concentrating hard, his eyes drilled into the demon's. He pictured a blank slate; it was without end, filling his mind with its perfect, untarnished surface. He didn't let it out of his sight.
To Ghirahim's amazement, the human was not only submitting to him, but was beginning to return his affections, as well. Lifting a brow, the demon grinned, his mouth full of the sweet flavor.
"Turning the tables, are we?"
Pipit just stared, his face showing the inevitable side-effects of the contact. Forcing his head from the floor, Pipit tried to dig as deeply into the demon's mouth as he could. His eyes fluttered as the sensation increased. Breathing heavily, he groaned.
Rubbing his neck, Ghirahim knew that it wouldn't be long for this puny human. This was going to be highly entertaining.
"How singular you are… So different from your little friend in green… So subservient…"
Having already learned that the human liked it rough, Ghirahim rewarded him with a firm wrist squeeze, a tug on his earring and a sharp bite on his lip. Before Pipit could utter a word, his mouth was claimed once more.
"Still think you are in the midst of a woolgathering hallucination, my noble knight?"
Pipit moaned in response, shaking his head and shoving further into his adversary's mouth. Tickled by the human's accedence – and how unproblematic this mission had turned out to be – the demon played with him. Removing his mouth, he hovered just out of reach, grinning at Pipit's impassioned attempt to regain the pleasure that he was so obviously desperate for.
"I must say, this is unexpected, knight," Ghirahim voiced lustfully, "but fun." He watched Pipit's chest heave before coming back to his parted lips.
Several times, the demon lowered his head, drew Pipit's mouth like a magnet, and then retracted. He leered, relishing in the incontestable dominance.
"Enjoying your bonds, human?" Biting the inside of his cheek, Pipit nodded, bringing about another snigger from the demon. He adjusted his seat atop Pipit's lower half, purposely jarring him in his most sensitive areas. Pipit tried to keep a straight face, but the demon could feel the truth.
Beaming, Ghirahim asked one of his favorite questions.
"Is there something you need, human?"
"Yes," Pipit answered without even a hint of uncertainty.
"Go on, then." The demon's eyes burned with a terrifying intensity. Something inexplicable was beginning to emerge, to show itself to the young man. He swallowed a lump of worry. His imprisoned fingers wriggled.
"I want more," Pipit requested.
"Are you begging, sky knight?" The demon's heart was nearly bursting with rainbows. "What, may I ask, is the magic word?"
Pipit took a breath.
"Please?" he asked. After nodding, the demon hesitated, luxuriating in the exquisiteness of the plea.
Like a hot liquid, his power cascaded over the receptive human, prolapsing into his mouth, the birthplace of such captivating words. As expected, the young man made a pleasantly erotic sound, demonstrative of his intemperate need.
Helpless in body but not in mind, Pipit knitted his eyes shut and concentrated. He opened his mind's eye, an unnoticeable gesture to an enchanted demon. His mouth invited the demon's tongue in deeper, beckoning it.
Pipit's attentiveness was a flight risk. He clutched it with all of his strength.
Abstract images and blurred ideas floated before him in a river of mist.
He saw an enormous being with hair aflame… A blue, sylphlike spirit… The beginnings of an engrossing tale that told of long ago…
Then, he saw it; what he unequivocally had to know the moment that the demon had mentioned it.
The missing link to the mystery behind his and Calwren's strange relationship.
Fragmented details and snippets of secrets seeped into his mind.
In that moment, his bafflement matched that of the demon's. Still connected, the two bore into one another. Realizing what was happening, Ghirahim wasted no time in withdrawing himself.
But Pipit had no intention of leaving his task unfinished.
With arms still bound, he curled up, sucking the demon in further. He bit down on the dark tongue that was already halfway down his throat.
Jumping, Ghirahim grabbed Pipit around the face, shocked by the sudden sting. Pipit sunk his teeth in deeper.
More facts, incomplete but vibrant, trickled from one overexcited mind to the other.
Appalled, the demon obstructed Pipit's nose in the hope that he would relent.
But, like a vice, he clamped down even more, breathing through his teeth as though he was ascending a mountain.
Every second, more information was passed as Pipit infiltrated the barrier.
However, the deepening connection lifted the sensation to such a height that he was beginning to spiral out of control. Still, he slogged onward, taking whatever he could from the demon as fast as he could do it.
The gritty power struggle continued as Ghirahim released Pipit's hands to scrape at his eyes. Crushing the squirming muscle, Pipit flipped his head away, dragging the demon with him.
With the awkward position limiting his movements, Ghirahim snarled, wrapping his pale fingers around the human's throat. Repelling an urge to panic, Pipit held fast to his determination, not budging…so long as he didn't have to breathe.
Squeezing tighter and tighter, Ghirahim poured dark power like molten lava, bringing Pipit's stubborn enterprise to a close.
"Ah!" Pipit gasped, breaking away as the demon loosened his hands. Ghirahim's spent tongue retreated into its hiding place. Taken aback, he stared at the restless human, exploring his face. Luckily, his own efforts had successfully stolen his control.
Somewhat impressed by the human's suppression and willpower, the demon observed quietly as his body thrust itself up. He bounced the large frame of his enemy in one short-lived moment of pleasure.
Watching these silly humans succumb in weakness never seemed to get old.
And this human had been rather sly, demonstrating a crafty side that the demon hadn't expected. It was titillating.
With a racing pulse and a moaning cry, Pipit wrung the demon's red cloak and squeezed his eyes shut, reaching an amazing but unwanted climax. A momentary paralysis seized him. Sweat dribbled down his hot forehead. He rocked his head back and forth, feeling the demon's stroke on his neck. He hated being made a spectacle of, but he couldn't stop it.
Still out of breath and dealing with the vibrations that were rolling through him, Pipit flipped, army crawled out from under the demon, pushed to his feet and started running. A little smile stuck to Ghirahim's face as he watched his plaything escape. It was a shame to allow a guaranteed evening of sinful fun to just get up and walk away, but he had no other choice.
"You're not worthy of her, sky knight!" he shouted. The words echoed along the hall. He heard Pipit's footsteps diminish into the dim stairwell.
The demon sat back, contemplating the possible consequences of divulging what technically was classified information.
He shrugged, unworried. The human had filched nothing more than a few stray bits and pieces of his knowledge – factoids. Nothing to be concerned about.
Besides, his little hero friend would undoubtedly be studying up on all issues relevant to the spirit maiden soon enough, anyway, with the help of his little witch, of course. And, most importantly, his task was complete, lock, stock and barrel. This human was infected, just like the other.
He shrugged again.
"And you never will be, knight…"
…
With no reason to look back, Pipit's feet pounded the stone. As he followed the winding stair, he encouraged himself. No one else was going to do it.
"Goddess, give me the strength to stay on my feet…" He forced his way through the darkness, ready to welcome whatever it was that lay ahead; anything was an improvement over him. "Please don't let me collapse and start crying again like a little girl…" He sighed, scoffing. "Good gods, this is insane."
At the end of the coiling stairs, he stopped short.
"Holy…" It was dark, but there was just enough torchlight to illuminate the room that stretched out before him.
An amazing sight: a towering barrel vault roof, coated in hundreds of square feet of paintings – a death-defying testament to the courageousness of some very fine artists, most definitely.
The enormous dormers, responsible for imparting the weak light of a shrouded sun into the gallery by day, offered no help to the lost knight as he shuffled along.
Two rows of limestone pillars connected the vast floor to the ceiling. Like tall, cylindrical ghosts, they summoned him, marking his unforeseen path to the doorway. Glancing from right to left, he kept a close watch on his surroundings, making sure that the coast was clear.
This place was quiet. Too quiet…And huge. Anything could be lurking here…
He could be lurking here, prowling about like the creeper that he was. Pipit rolled his eyes.
"You let me go twice now," he whispered. "You gonna come and get me again?" He surveyed the hall. "Wouldn't be the least bit surprising." He passed by another pillar. "I still don't even know if any of this is real…"
Pipit grimaced, inaudibly cursing the uncomfortable, mucky feeling inside of his shorts.
"Well, that's cringe-worthy enough to be real, alright," he whined, shaking his head. "Gods…how the hell did that even happen…? That's just…wrong."
Pulling at the linen that was clinging to him in the worst way possible, he thought about what he had learned from the demon. It was too crazy to be true.
"Never even knew demons were real 'til this loopy bastard came along," he murmured. "This is just-"
A skitter from across the expansive room made him jump. Planting his feet, he reached his left arm behind his back, grabbing at nothing. Panting, he squinted, waiting for a shadow to materialize. But, nothing showed.
"Ah, that's right," he mumbled, dropping his hand. He started walking again. "I came here unarmed, and unarmored. Great." He picked up his pace. "Doesn't get much better than that…" His eyes flashed with the golden glow of the wall torches. Guided to the northwestern corner of the room, he spotted a heavy wooden door. However, curiosity tugged his gaze to the right.
A doorway, much larger than the passage to the outside, took up a substantial portion of the wall by the corner. A predominantly red hue presented itself beyond the archway.
Oddly drawn to the adjacent room, Pipit crept toward it. Poking his head through, he looked from side to side, viewing an extensive hallway. Rich, crimson wall-to-wall carpeting blanketed the floors. Dozens of evenly spaced wall torches burned. Turning to the left, he caught sight of a grand staircase that led to a mezzanine, similar to the one in the Crown Plaza.
This place smelled a lot like…him.
Pipit's face soured. He backed up, retracing the way to the exit.
It wasn't a bad smell, per se…It was sort of musky, maybe a little bit sweet with a hint of earthiness…Redolent in the way that it stirred up old memories.
Pipit flinched, catching himself in the act of contemplating the demon's odiferousness.
"Wow…" he chuckled, about to smack himself. "Pipit, you do know it's rude to think about a person's captivating aroma until after the third date, right?" With a soft creak, the heavy door gave way to the night. "Maybe the nutty professor is right…I do sort of talk to myself a lot. Especially in second-person." He pulled the door shut with a click, not wanting to be rude, even if this was a dream. "What was his name again…?"
Stepping lively, Pipit took a narrow set of stairs to the top of a dusty courtyard. The sky was blank, the trees were twisted, and the air was abuzz with a melody of unrecognizable insects. He took a moment to reflect, forming an articulate assessment.
"Weird…" he concluded. "Anyway, Hirageem? No, that wasn't it. Garahee…No…Damn. Well, it was 'Demon Lord Something'."
Wondering where the moon was, Pipit marched toward a slim opening in the curtain wall that surrounded the enclosure. A bastion, modest and proud, jutted from the middle of the wall in front of him. With no gatehouse in sight, he surmised that he had entered the rear outer ward, if he was dreaming of a proper castle, anyway.
He started to laugh, almost snorting at the recent goings-on between him and the demon. Some things were so terrible that to find the iota of humor in them seemed the only sanity-saving option.
"Is there something you neeeed, human?" Pipit mimicked in his finest demon lord voice, copying that unusual, suave accent. "Yes, there is," he answered himself. "I need to be punched repeatedly in the face until I wake up from the worst wet dream in the known universe."
Rubbing his eyes, he exited the bailey. He found himself navigating a long set of stairs that sidled down a huge, steep motte. The mound was massive, requiring three minutes of brisk walking to traverse. His boots smacked into the smooth stone, letting off a sound that seemed too authentic to be imaginary.
"This is one tiring dream," Pipit complained, huffing. "Don't think I've ever been this tired while sleeping before…"
Standing at the foot of the hill that he had descended, Pipit turned, viewing the magnificent structure in all of its regalness. He was reminded of some of the more impressive buildings in Superna. The architects had gone all out, designing each edifice with realism in mind. Rising turrets and curving battlements, expertly fitted with arrow loops, were a common sight. The honoring of tradition and attention to detail greatly complimented the state's long established sense of discipline.
Picturing the innovative structure of the city, the image of his hotel came to mind. He thought about his bed, and the satiny sheets that he had fallen asleep on; the ones that now covered the body of a certain young woman…
"You really think I used her?" he asked, leaving the castle behind. A dirt road, several-hundred feet beyond a wide open field of shortgrass, became his next target. "Well, shows how much you know…"
Pipit stepped charily, heedful of the many chuckholes that marred the extensive, slender plain beside the road. This place was a minefield for someone lost, alone, and on foot.
"I think we used each other, at least a little bit," he confessed to his boots. "Pretty sure she doesn't know my name, either." He glanced around, feeling exposed out in the open. "A guy interested only in himself doesn't execute a carefully constructed 'for-her-pleasure-only' grand finale like that, either. My tongue is still half numb. In your face, Mister Reemaheem."
Pipit couldn't scoff enough over the demon's bizarre interests. This love play of his was something else. Of course, it wasn't about a true sort of love; it was about the love of mental torture.
"Dude, BDSM has its place…but it is not with you." He let his overworked tongue dangle in disgust. "Then again, it wasn't with Calwren, either…And a whole mess of good it did me to try and avoid that, so…"
The surface beneath Pipit's feet went from springy to firm as field turned to road.
"Maybe I'm the one who needs therapy," he mumbled, recalling what he had said to Link during their flight to the Skyloftian army base. "I'd probably end up with 'logomaniac' as my therapist, though. I'd bet anything I would. 'Something you need, human? Don't let my roaming hands be a distraction, now…'"
The presence of faint light combined with the absence of an illuminated celestial body puzzled him. This place was much darker than even the darkest nights he had experienced on the surface, in hot pursuit of his best friend. Here, the light was almost nonexistent, yet, it was there, nonetheless.
It was as though a wraithlike version of the moon was hovering above his head, hidden somewhere in the sky. Its light was visible, yet ill disposed.
Eventually, Pipit's grievance yielded to an awed hush. The dirt road overlooked an endless, arid plain, its horizon painted with a ceaseless chain of highlands and peaks. He had no idea how he was able to see that far into the distance. This place was inexplicable.
A road sign slowly came into view. He brought his speed up a notch.
He looked down, noticing that another road had appeared, intersecting the one that he was on. He stopped in the middle of the four-way to study the multi-directional sign. He looked first at what the sign had to say about the direction that he had come from.
"Pentapolis…Five-hundred miles," he read. "Hm. Guess I'm not going there." His eyes lowered. "Palace of Light: four-hundred-thirty miles. Not going there, either. Acholos, Thermidor…both over two-hundred miles…" He straightened up. "Why do these names sound familiar?" He craned his neck to read the part of the sign that pointed out into the wilderness. "Plain of Caina." He glanced at the never ending blackness. "Definitely not going there." Thought-provoking names such as Ruins of Forcatha, Doloroth, Erebus, Antenora, Watchtower Malacoda and Azotus caught his eye. "Burning Sands? Woods of Suicides? Sounds lovely…"
He lifted a pointed ear into the air.
"I think I might be able to hear River Phlegethon…It's pretty far, though." He switched his eyes to the opposite side of the sign, the portion that urged travelers to turn right, to veer off of the main road. "River Acheron: two miles. Maybe that's what I'm hearing." He read on. "Plain of Antenora, Pit of Abaddon, Tartarus, Great Columns…Gods, these things really sound familiar." Brushing it off, he looked at the fourth part of the sign. It pointed straight ahead. "Acheron Woods: two miles. Well, that doesn't sound helpful…Town of Acheron: three miles." He gave a contented nod. "Much better. Acheron or bust."
Cracking his knuckles and adjusting his collar, Pipit crossed the intersection, carrying a newly formed mental map in his head. "Not that I know who or what is waiting for me there."
With a destination decided on, Pipit charged headlong into the night. Running now, he flickered his eyelids, chasing the languidness away. He did his best to ignore the disagreeable coldness that was clinging to him.
His thoughts raced along with his feet. He thought about Link, and what might have happened to him during their time apart. He considered the three days that he and Midna had gotten to know each other a bit better while Link was on the surface. He tried to come up with an explanation for the mysterious power that she had displayed before the demon lord in the temple. Whatever it was, it had commanded his respect in a rather extraordinary way. Thank the Goddess she showed up when she did…Pipit had been sure that he and his best friend were about to be forced into something unbelievably awful.
And Zelda...Why did the jerk have to bring up the Lumpy Pumpkin incident? It wasn't like Pipit had planned to entertain such dirty thoughts about the pretty little blonde, especially while he was with that other gorgeous lady…whatever her name was.
Matching his breathing to his rhythmic stride, Pipit's face edged somewhere between skeptical and cynical.
"It'll probably never work…" he panted. "She's not even my type, and I'm sure as hell not hers…" He pursed his lips. "What does she see in me, anyway?"
After five minutes of running, the sparsely laid trees started to thicken, closing in on him from both sides. The lambency of the approaching town swelled out of the dreary landscape like an aureole. Flashing through the gaps in the warped trees, it seemed so inviting…
Suddenly, a shrill howl rang out from the depths of the forest.
Looking to the right, Pipit pushed his legs even harder.
"What the hell was that?" he cried. He quickly began to regret the estimated two miles between him and the town.
Another piercing sound rose out of the hinterlands, making Pipit's blood curdle.
"What is out there?" he wondered, panning the land over and over again.
A clamor, panicked and wild hurtled through the trees. Every inch covered by the knight brought the raucous closer. He stared at the ground, feeling an unmistakable juddering, amazed.
Something big was coming…
Up ahead, a tight assemblage of bushes by the roadside convulsed. A nearby tree wagged and swayed, bringing with it another terrifying shriek. Pipit slid to a stop.
The shadow of something menacing exited from the woods. Bright green eyes glared in his direction.
Shrinking back, Pipit sidestepped before diving behind a nearby tree. Crouching in the dirt, he pressed his back to the trunk. He peeped out from the vegetation.
Breathing heavily, he sat completely still, hoping that the creature hadn't spotted him on the road.
The ground shook once more, but this time, with a deep rumble that sent a tremor through Pipit's feet. He set his hands onto the tree, leaning forward to gain a better view.
The massive creature crossed the road and disappeared into the trees before bursting out again.
Frozen, Pipit witnessed the unnamed monster as it pounded toward him. He held his breath, confused. The creature was scampering, limping, perhaps running from something.
In time with the thudding of feet, Pipit heard the clinking of bones and the popping of joints. As the creature neared, he couldn't quite believe what he saw – this monstrosity had almost no flesh on its noisy frame.
Then, he learned that the ferocious looking beast was not alone.
Shooting out from the same area that the first creature had escaped from was another beast, just as imposing as the first, but bigger. Unlike what it seemed to be chasing, this creature was taller, with long, thin legs and a thick body. With grace it accelerated to a gallop, its hooves digging into the ground as it zipped along.
With a four-beat gait as fluent as the wind, the animal narrowed the space between itself and its mark.
Just when Pipit had decided that unhappy chance had caused an ordinary chase between predator and prey to fall into his lap, an unexpected sight proved him wrong.
Just as a loftwing would often escort its beloved human, this long-legged beast was carrying someone. A person, presumably.
A chorus of hoof beats, crackling, and excited breathing filled the area. Pipit didn't move as the emaciated creature lumbered past him. After turning to gape, he looked back at the possible-human and his animal companion.
Sparing no celerity, they charged forth. In tune with the rocking strides of the beast, the person moved smoothly.
"Hyah!" a commanding voice called over the boisterousness. Pipit's eyebrows came up.
"A woman…" he mouthed.
As she neared Pipit's position, more details made themselves clear.
In a flash, her left hand shot up to grab the upper limb of a bow, slung over her shoulder and across her back from left to right. In a single movement, she twirled the bow, grasping the hand grip and retrieving an arrow from the quiver which was strung beside where the bow had been a moment before.
Pipit watched as the woman, with pin-straight form, drew an arrow to her ear, bending the limbs of her bow.
Bypassing every obstacle that would surely foil an unskilled shooter, the woman aimed, shot, and struck the fumbling creature, impaling its hind leg. A pained yelp and a whimper cracked the air as it nearly fell, continuing its escape with waning steps.
Whizzing past where Pipit was hiding, the hunter quickly caught the poor creature, running alongside it with ease. Slinging her bow over her left shoulder, she jumped from the back of her tall companion, her arms waving in circles as she soared. With a crazed shout, she landed on the injured creature, stopping it in its tracks. Pipit popped up, dying for a better look at the action.
Clinging to the back of her prey, the woman wrapped her arms around its neck, choking it. It jerked and sputtered, refusing to fall.
But, it eventually toppled, rolling along the road with its enemy stuck to its back, kicking up a cloud of dust. Pipit scraped nervously at the brittle tree bark, wondering which of the two was going to die. His knightly instincts ordered him to intervene, but something warned him against it. This woman knew what she was doing, dodging the crushing weight of the bag of bones before her, and evading its snapping, toothy jaws…
The battle seemed to go on forever. It was exhausting to watch. Pipit was astonished that this person was still alive.
At last, the brawl wound down. With the hideous creature laid out, the woman kneeled beside it, laying her hands on its head. Pipit noticed a decrease in the creature's movements. The woman's actions had ceased, as well.
Several seconds of unnatural silence filled the rift in the forest. Pipit gawked, as still as stone.
Then, the silence was suddenly shattered. A bloodcurdling war cry exploded from the woman's mouth as energy blasted from her hands, gushing into the helpless creature, tearing it apart from the inside out. The sound was otherworldly as the flesh, bone and fur burst outward, shaking the ground and leaving the woman with the remains of an ill-fated beast. Too wowed to look away, Pipit was at a loss for words.
The gruesome scene ended as quickly as it had started. As far as he was concerned, a dream was the only possible explanation for what had just happened.
He couldn't remove his eyes from the woman as she sat, stooped over the proof of her victory, breathing as though she was oxygen-deprived.
After a short time, she brushed herself off, plucked a small bone fragment from the ground and stood to her full height. Studying what he could see of her, Pipit observed a tall, slim frame. Her hair fell past her shoulders, but the darkness obscured the color.
"Hmm…" he hummed.
All of a sudden, the woman turned, sending a solid gaze straight toward her secret admirer.
Pipit gasped, dropping to his rear end and skittering behind a bush, scraping himself along a mass of thorns as he did so; but, he didn't care. He'd rather deal with a prickly bush than someone with superhuman strength, able to tear an animal asunder with bare hands. Her bow and arrows were still sitting neatly on her back, for goodness' sake…
His back, on the other hand, was lacking the scabbard that should have been holding a sword.
How she had even learned of his presence, he had no clue.
En route toward his location, the woman stepped cautiously, dipping momentarily out of sight as she left the road and entered the underbrush.
Fanning her fingers, she looked to the right, and then to the left. No one. She took another step. Her eyes dropped to where the concealed spectator had sat moments before.
Her head came up. She shimmied forward.
She whipped her bow off of her body, still looking around. Reaching her right arm back, she grabbed for an arrow…
"Don't," Pipit advised as his right arm encircled her chest. She stiffened as his body pressed to her back. He thrust a small knife to her throat. Taller by a few inches, he looked down over her shoulder. "I'll kill you even if you're hot. Don't think I won't." She stared ahead.
"Who are you?" she asked, tilting her head. Her smooth, feminine voice was arresting.
"You first," Pipit demanded, tightening around her.
"Are you CS or resistance?"
"Huh?" He paused. "Neither one."
"The only ones who are neither one are wanderers."
"I guess you could call me that," he told her.
"Okay, well…" She sighed. "In that case, I'm not your enemy. You can let me go."
"Oh, really? How do I know I won't be shredded to bits like that pitiful thing you just took down?"
"Oh…" She gave a little laugh. "I was merely ridding my camp of a rather insidious terror. That thing that you just saw was guilty of injuring several of my men. With no protection beyond ourselves, we look out for each other. Know what I mean?"
"How did you do that, anyway?" The woman grinned at the curiousness of his tone.
"It's a special skill held only by a few," she explained. "It's something that can only be passed on from a carrier to a recipient. It doesn't happen often…" She turned her face closer to the tall foreigner. "It has the potential to…consume lesser men."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that it's a monstrous power that must be handled very delicately. It's not for everyone." She lifted her eyes. "I am the sole carrier in my group, for now. That's the only reason why a captain is out here in the boondocks…In the middle of the night, I might add."
"Um…" Pipit started, still unsure. "How did you know I was here?"
"I caught a glimpse of your fear before the energy faded." Pipit didn't say anything. "So, you're definitely not CS?"
"I don't even know what that is," he admitted.
"It stands for 'collusion'. It's a general term we use to classify anyone against the resistance – what I am a part of."
"The resistance? What are you resisting?"
"You mean, besides the blade that's practically mangling my neck? Withdraw it, and maybe I'll tell you." Hesitating for a moment, Pipit let the knife drop. He ran his thumb along the grip, grateful that he had stashed it in his boot before leaving Skyloft, but regretting that he hadn't remembered it until now. It might have served him well against the demon.
Even with his blade in hand, Pipit knew that he was taking a chance. No matter what this woman said, she was still a stranger. A fully armed stranger whose fighting skills were frightening.
"Put your bow down," Pipit said before she had a chance to turn. She glanced behind her.
"Put your knife down." She waited.
"I'll put it out of my reach. Okay?" As she nodded, he bent down, placing the thin blade into a pocket inside of his left shoe. By the time he had straightened up, her bow and quiver were at her feet.
With both weapons down, the tension dissolved. Somewhat.
Then, the woman turned.
Despite the heavy darkness, Pipit no longer had any trouble seeing her. When he finally looked at her, he felt as though he'd been rabbit punched.
Her chin was low and her eyes were piercing as she stared at him. Her fingers waggled as they had when he had waited for her behind the bush.
She stood only two feet from him, licking her bottom lip. What a luscious lip it was, too…
Pipit blinked the distraction away. Then, another eye-catching feature bombarded him.
Her hair. It was curly, sleek, and very, very dark. So dark that it appeared black. As black as a midnight sky.
"What's your name?" Pipit asked, feeling a bit awestruck by the close up view. It was unforeseen…especially her striking green eyes. The corner that connected her plump lips lifted in subtle yet unmasked amusement.
"You first, knight," she returned, her gaze traveling from his feet to his head. She inched closer. "I recognize your tunic. I've seen it before. And your accent…I've heard it before."
"Uh, P-" he stammered, gathering the various parts of his mouth together. "Sorry, I think my entire face went a little numb for a second there." He grinned and shrugged. "Pipit." Looking at the forest floor, she moved closer. They were already pretty close to begin with… "And your name?"
"Lilith," she answered.
"Ah, okay, Lilith…Have we met before?" Bridging the gap between them, she brought their bodies together.
"Do you really have to ask?" She raised her face to his. "Am I truly so forgettable?" Her hand made its way to her neck. It trailed down slowly, sensually, while her thickset eyelashes paraded about.
"Forgettable? Pssssh, noooo," he said with a nervous grin.
"Well, I know we haven't met, even if you don't. Because, I know I would've remembered you." With assertiveness, she took his hand, running a fingernail across his palm. Swallowing a mouthful of air, he winced.
"Oh, well, thanks…" With a light tug, she closed the space, pulling him into an unanticipated kiss.
"Mmm!" Pipit exclaimed before fleeing the lock of her lips. "Is that the standard greeting around here or something?" Her face radiated innocence.
"For me, at times. But, only when I want it to be." She towed him down, going for round two.
"Whoa, hang on." He retreated a bit.
"Problem?" Her sincerity floored him.
"Yes, I have a problem," he said. "I'm feeling exceptionally used tonight, actually, by people I don't even know." She nodded. "And I don't get what you're trying to do."
"It's a test," she explained. "My test. I wanted to see what you'd do."
"Test? Did I pass…?" She giggled.
"Well, you don't want me to touch you, so I'd say yes, you pass."
"Phew, well, that's good," Pipit breathed. "But, honestly, it has more to do with, uh…" He held his hands out.
"What?" Lilith asked.
"I'm a mess…"
"You what?" She cocked her head.
"How can I put this nicely?" He scratched his head. "I jizzed all over myself…" He immediately grimaced at the distastefulness of his words. She shook her head and laughed.
"Hm, well, how very colloquial of you to say…" She crossed her arms and gave him the eye.
"Yeah, I've been told that euphemisms are not my strong suit," he said.
"I appreciate your honesty, though. Are you saying it just happened? Like now?" Flustered, Pipit couldn't separate the candor from the sarcasm.
"Gods, no…Maybe a half-hour ago, I'm not sure…" She leaned forward.
"May I ask what you were doing a half-hour ago?" Her grin fluctuated as she tried to keep her laughter under control.
"Uuuum…" Pipit looked away.
"It's okay, I'm just screwing with you," Lilith declared. "I get it. You don't need to explain."
"You get it?" He bit his tongue.
"Yes. I'm eighty-years-old. I've lived here my whole life, and I've become privy to the ways of the powers that be."
"You're what-years-old?" Pipit took the opportunity to give her a very thorough once-over. She lifted a gloved hand, temporarily dismissing his question.
"You're a knight. In the realm of demons. That in itself brings the would-be guessing game to a screeching halt before it even has a chance to take off. You probably didn't even know where you were until I said that, did you?" One brow rose as the other sloped over her sparkling emerald eye.
"No," he said quietly, barely registering the revelation.
"Right." She pulled her hands behind her back. "A lost human, in this realm, roving around the woods not even two miles from the abode of a certain someone…" She rocked on her toes. Pipit suddenly looked worried.
"Well…" His mouth kept moving, but nothing came out.
"So, where did you come from, mister knight?"
"Hey, quit teasing…" Pipit said, pouting. "I feel crappy enough as it is."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bruise your fragile ego."
"I just wanted information. That's the only reason it went as far as it did."
"You mean, with Lord Ghirahim?" Pipit tossed an arm in the air.
"Gah! That's the flagrant criminal's name! Thank you."
"So, what happened?"
"Well, I put two and two together. I knew that he could read my thoughts by shoving that god-awful tongue down my throat, so, I cleared my mind so he wouldn't catch wind of my plan. I figured I could use his power to my advantage, if I did it right." His eyes drifted for a moment. "I must've done something correctly, 'cause I got what I was looking for." Lilith's face lit up.
"What was that?" she asked. Pipit met her gaze once more.
"Actually, uh…I was really hoping to get out of these woods, to this place called Acheron…'Cause I'm trying to get back home, so…"
"Acheron…" Lilith whispered thoughtfully. "While you might find someone there who's kind enough to assist an outsider, I'd say you're better off with me." Beside her sassy grin, a tiny dimple appeared.
"You're gonna help me?" His doubt in her credibility was unmistakable.
"Of course."
They looked at each other for a few moments, sizing each other up and contemplating.
Pipit filled his lungs with warm, dry forest air, thinking that the person before him was one of the most gorgeous things he had ever come across. Lilith did the same.
With the threat of an ominous night nipping at his heels, Pipit reached an undeniable conclusion: he needed this woman's help. This odd, puzzling and slightly devilish woman…Yes, he needed her help.
"As long as we can chat on the ride back to my camp." She smiled expectantly.
"You're inscrutable, did you know that?" Pipit asked with a chuckle.
"Am I?" she quipped, scrunching her nose.
"How about I carry your weapon for you?" he proposed, scooping her items into his arms.
"If you promise not to murder me with my own arrows."
"Ha," he replied. "As the Goddess is my witness, I swear that I couldn't shoot one of these arrows to save my life."
"Seriously?" With one eye stuck to him, she led the way to the road.
"Yes. The last time these hands held a bow and arrow was probably four years ago, on a hunting trip in a heavily wooded section of the North Province in Skyloft. Needless to say, the only one that ended up injured was me. I somehow managed to send the arrow in the direction opposite to where arrows are supposed to go…" Lilith gave a sympathetic giggle.
"Ah, you caught fledging in the face, eh?"
"Very much," Pipit replied.
"You probably didn't nock the arrow right. That's normally all it is. I could teach you how to do it."
"Oh, yeah?" He stayed close behind her. "That's awful chummy for someone who doesn't know me at all."
"Well, I like you," she said. Rotating her head, she placed two fingers in her mouth and whistled.
"But, if you help me overcome my coordination issues then this priceless ability of mine to sustain head injuries will be tragically lost. We can't have that, it's my party piece." The pair listened to the clip-clop of approaching hooves.
"Accident prone?"
"In certain circumstances." In an instant, Pipit's focus was diverted. A gigantic animal had joined them, slipping through the darkness. With an enamored sigh and a nuzzle of her nose, Lilith reached for the thin strip of leather that hung from the creature's muscular neck.
"Pipit, meet Astaroth." She rubbed the whiskery muzzle before her. A hot snort hit her cheek.
"Hi, Astaroth," Pipit said cordially. The animal nickered in response. "I've heard stories about these herbivores, mostly in the ancient texts. Man, I never thought I'd see one in the flesh…"
"A horse?" Lilith brushed a chunk of coarse auburn mane aside, revealing an intelligent caramel eye. A starkly white blaze spilled down Astaroth's chestnut face. "Nothing compares. Nothing."
She laid her forehead against his jowl, stroking its velvety softness and whispering sweet nothings to him. Like any male with half a brain, he sucked up the love. "He's the most beautiful colt you'll ever see."
"I don't mean to interrupt your make out session," Pipit said, "but, um, where are we going and how are we gonna get there?"
"So raring to go. That's one characteristic I have no problem holding in high regard. I adore an adventure." Her sultry tone mixed with the keen glimmer in her eyes made Pipit want to drool, but he refrained. "Let's hop on. I can be the first to show you the ropes of horseback riding." She shuffled to the colt's left side, gesturing for Pipit to follow. "I was in such a rush to pursue that stalhound that I didn't bother to tack up before leaving. I was caught up in the heat of the moment." She laughed at herself. "Just as well. It makes for easier tandem riding."
Like a fish gliding through water, Lilith hopped onto her horse's back, using a tuft of mane for leverage. She lowered a hand to Pipit. He looked around.
"Is this a good idea?" he asked. "Personally, I see myself plunging to a horrible death, here…"
"Don't be a baby," she joked. "I know he's no loftwing, but don't worry. I'm gonna help you."
"You know about loftwings?"
"Of course. It's how you sky-dwellers get around. An inferior method compared to the grandness of a horse, for sure…"
"Uh huh," he murmured. Giving in, he took the woman's open hand. With bewildering strength, she hoisted the young man up, sliding him into place.
"Wow," he noted. "You must work out."
"My life is a workout, knight." She slung her bow and arrow over her shoulder once more. She grabbed the reins, placing one in each hand. Astaroth tossed his head, anticipating what was to come. He pranced in place, earning a flinch from Pipit.
"There's that eager spirit you mentioned…" he said tensely.
"Don't worry," she repeated. She clicked her tongue, gently urging the horse into a walk.
"So, this camp of yours. Who occupies it?" Pipit asked.
"Oh, about seventy-five people."
"Any guys?" He drummed his fingers on his knees.
"Of course. Were you hoping for an all-woman camp?" She smirked.
"Actually, uh…" He rubbed his neck. "You think I can borrow some shorts from somebody? 'Cause…for real…" Lilith had to laugh.
"I'm sure something can be arranged!"
Veering left toward the Plain of Caina, the trio entered the northwestern corner of the Acheron Woods. Lilith expounded the importance of staying out of sight. Utilizing the protective properties of the landscape was always worth doing, even if it resulted in a roundabout trip; especially for a resistance fighter.
The resistance and what it entailed was the first subject in Pipit's long line of questioning. Who or what were they trying to impede? How many fighters existed altogether? Who were they? How long had they been living the lives of rebels? What were they ultimately trying to achieve? Lilith provided answers to every one of his inquiries.
"We oppose the war, plain and simple," Lilith said, steering her horse through a grove of knarred, white birch trees. Pipit looked around the arborous graveyard. "There's no complicated premise, no abstruse basis or profound principals. We consider ourselves eternally pitted against our king, and the lofty goal that he aspires for. The demon king is considered divine. I'm sure you can imagine how our stance is viewed by the faithful sector of society."
"The war that hasn't been declared yet, you mean?" Pipit asked.
"It might not have been declared, but it's coming," Lilith assured him. "Every ancient text, in your realm and mine, foretells of it."
"I've heard extensive teachings on the war during the era of the Goddess-"
"The war of unmatched scale and ferocity," Lilith interrupted.
"Well, yes. I've heard the stories for years, but…"
"But, that's all they were to you- stories." She aimed an eye over her shoulder. "Legend, and nothing more."
"In a way, I guess."
"You humans are so ignorant. What is the purpose behind shrouding the sky realm in confusion? What can possibly be gained from feeding the children misinformation…Lies about their origins?"
"I wouldn't call it lies, per say," Pipit countered, put off by her accusations. "We were all given the information-"
"Under the guise of folklore – a pretext for the true, unadulterated account of what really happened." Growing impatient, she squeezed her heels into Astaroth, pushing him into a trot. Taking some of her earlier advice, Pipit curled his hands around her torso.
"Maybe we got a watered down version of the actual events," he said. "That's the way it's always been. The sacred text was always available to us, and a lot of people studied it on their own time. And I don't just mean scholars. Still, I can't think of too many people who've read through the whole thing, besides the Headmaster at my academy. Pretty sure everyone besides him has always treated it as legend."
"Well, you will learn, soon, I'm sure," Lilith said with confidence. "For the purposes of this conversation, though, I can tell you this: very few humans died in those battles because very few fought. Her Grace, or Hylia, whatever you want to call her…" A hint of contempt laced her words. "…She was careful to protect her flock. You humans made out quite well. Can't say the same for my people." She stared into the trees.
"I know that the enemy…" He paused. "I mean, your people were-"
"Slaughtered? Massacred in hordes? All in the name of a maddened autocrat posing as an honorable ruler? That about covers it. It took over three-thousand years for our population to recover, to get to its pre-war level. You say you know, but you don't really. It doesn't hold the same weight for you as it does for me. This is reality for me, not a mere fable."
"That's a long time. Why so long?" Lilith smiled to herself.
"I'll tell you when we get to camp."
"'Kay. So, the reconstruction of your race," Pipit continued, hungry for facts. "Is that the reason why this war of revenge is about to be set in motion?"
"Oh, it goes beyond revenge. I don't even want to voice what I believe my king's plans are for the surface and sky realm. It's too despicable to say aloud." Pipit gaped at the back of her head, unintentionally grinding the red fabric of her uniform between his fingers. "Even if you have only a vague familiarity with the sacred text of your race, you ought to know that this dark time was predicted long ago. How many prophecies speak of the rejuvenation of the demon tribe and the restrengthening of their once latent king? It is time, human, whether you or anyone else likes it or not."
"I'm not sure I quite get you," Pipit said. "You're obviously discontented with humans as a whole, and their Goddess, and what she did three millennia ago…" Lilith turned her eyes down. "…Yet, you're willing to risk your life to resist the only thing that would bring vengeance against us, to vindicate those who have died. Why?"
"The war, and my king, threaten my race. Anyone and anything that gambles with the life of an honorable demon, I will not support," she replied. "Even if the odds of winning stand firmly in our favor."
"You trying to say your realm is tougher than my realm?" Pipit asked with a sardonic head wag.
"Well, there's really no way to tell, is there? The army of this realm is unrivaled, certainly. But, when treed, even the weakest mongrel can dredge up some spunk."
"Wow, your faith in humankind is both heartwarming and inspiring." Lilith broke into another mirthful laugh.
"I don't mean to make it sound as bad as that," she eased. "I would expect the sky armies and knights to put up a valiant fight on every front. In fact, I depend on it."
"You do?"
"We both want the same result: for this war to be over as quickly as possible. Or, ideally, for that first skirmish to never see the light of day, at all. That's precisely what I, and so many others, are striving for right now."
"How? I can't imagine you'd kill your own people."
"Oh, no, definitely not. We use peaceful means to hamper an army that grows stronger every day, along with its king."
"How, though?"
"Are you always burning for knowledge like this?"
"Only when I get sucked into what I thought was a fictional place…up until tonight," Pipit told her. "I hope you don't find me rude."
"No, not at all," she said with a smile. "I'm just not used to speaking about the covert operations that take place. And, well…" She shrugged somberly. "Sometimes people do die, although we try and prevent it. Sometimes a scuffle will occur when we are out on a mission. Sometimes a CS unit will succeed in hunting down one of our campsites. It's known to happen on rare occasion, no matter how many times we pack up and relocate. So many soldiers – either resistance or otherwise – have been sniped in the woods. It's a nightmare, really. Bloodshed is the last thing we want."
"Not into guerilla warfare, I take it?"
"That's not what we're about. But, the resistance is large, and made up of thousands of fighters. There are factions. Some are more violent than others. Like I was telling another human not even two days ago, there are groups that live in the foothills, ambushing army bases and killing at random. Even though we're not affiliated with them, our government lumps us all together, dubbing us 'the defiance', not resistance…If any of us are unfortunate enough to be captured…" She shook her head in dismay.
"Gods…" Pipit said. "So, this is your whole life?"
"Only at night. But not every night. When present, I lead the unit. Someone else takes charge when I leave. I provide my people, as well as those in nearby units, with information…military or otherwise. I have connections."
"What do you do during the day?" Squeezing her left leg against her horse, she pushed him into a smooth canter. The trees had thinned, gradually giving way to a vast plain. Pipit grasped her tighter.
"I'm an army captain," she disclosed. Pipit gasped.
"You lead a double life! That's crazy!"
"Oh, it's crazy, alright," she chuckled. "To constantly be on edge that I may be found out and prosecuted, made into a scapegoat, and punished for every crime ever committed by the dregs of the resistance. My father is one of the most powerful men in this realm. If he knew that I was aiding and abetting the 'dirt-faced, wanton immoralists', as he so lovingly calls us…"
"Wow…"
"We've got a thirty-minute gallop to my camp in the Doloroth Woods. I really stuck my neck out to chase down that stalhound. I came within a couple miles of Lord Ghirahim."
"Yeah, I personally am comfortable only when I'm at least five miles from the guy," Pipit added.
"Well, you have much less to worry about than a double-crossing company commander does. If human-to-demon addiction was my biggest concern, I'd sleep much, much better at night, let me tell you."
"Wait, wha?" Pipit asked her.
"I'll explain it more when we get to camp." Cutting the conversation short, she shouted, galvanizing Astaroth into a hasty gallop. His feathery feet batted the air. His gait picked up so quickly that Pipit had to grab Lilith's arm to steady himself.
Clinging to her for dear life, Pipit bounced around behind her, unable to see the look of pure happiness on her face. It was impossible not to enjoy making an assay of the knight's bravery. Allowing her pride and joy to blow the young man's loftwing out of the water was a delight, as well.
More black shadows lined the edge of the wide open plain, giving Pipit something to focus on other than his emergent fear.
His brain swirled with memories of home. He wondered if, and how, he would ever make it back to the sky. What would he tell Link if he ever faced him again?
He thought about the demon, and the grotesque images that he'd gained from him.
He dwelled on Calwren for a while; a good, long while. Cradled by the cadenced pace of the horse, he was able to relax. He shut his eyes.
Before he knew it, their speed had begun to ease. Their treeless surroundings had become filled by a pinery, saturating the air with a wonderful scent. Brown pine needles littered the ground, snapping and crunching beneath iron horseshoes.
On and on they travelled through the timberland, passing by stonewalls and crossing worn out pathways. The trees seemed to become bigger, wider and closer together, until they reached a glade.
In this remote crook of the forest, an empty tract of land spread out. Peeking through the trees, Pipit quietly observed the activities of dozens of strangers. The loud crackling suggested a roaring fire, but no blaze could be seen aside from what emanated from a rounded stone assemblage. It was wide at its base yet no taller than the inhabitants of the camp.
"That's just our makeshift oven, although we call it a 'hearth', because it sounds homier," Lilith said, following his gaze to the light. "The use of fire has to be limited when in hiding. Luckily, it's normally too dark to see the smoke that rises above the canopy, but flames can be seen quite easily. It would be a shame to lead our enemies right to us."
"You mean, your nighttime-enemies, but daytime-friends?"
"In my case, I suppose," she said. "So, we've become quite proficient in the art of oven-making. Notice how the fire is super hot, has plenty of room to expand, but doesn't give off a bright glow." She swung her right leg over Astaroth's neck and dismounted to the left.
"Yeah," Pipit answered, copying her movement and landing on his feet. Lilith pulled the reins over the colt's head.
"These people are survival experts. That's putting it lightly." Once again, she led the way with the two males in tow.
Walking along the outer edge of the camp, they attracted many probing stares. Pipit returned some of them, but quickly decided to keep his eyes to himself.
"Is this all seventy-five people?" he asked.
"I run a tight ship, not a prison," Lilith said. "It's pretty rare for everyone to be here all at once unless we're moving, which we always do at night. During downtime like this, many go off and enjoy some alone time together, if you know what I mean. Or, perhaps get some archery practice in. Some people have 'day-jobs', like me, so they're not always here. Sometimes a group will be off on a mission, or rendezvousing with members of other units. It's also worth mentioning that some soldiers will transfer to other units. Sometimes they quit altogether. The resistance isn't for everyone, after all…"
Eventually, they arrived at the area designated for the equine members of the camp. Removing Astaroth's bridle, she gave him a firm slap on the rump, sending him into the grassy area. In spite of the limited visibility, Pipit was able to count forty horses.
"Ready to check out the camp?" Lilith asked.
"Sure, but uh…Are you gonna tell me how to get back home, soon?"
"Of course, silly," she snickered. "You said you wanted to borrow some clothing. Well, come on over and we'll see what we can do." As she turned back toward the camp, Pipit followed.
Stepping into the softly lit glade, they heard the subtle din of voices fizzle out. Everyone's head had turned to investigate the newly arrived pair. Some people looked downright afraid.
"No worries, everybody," Lilith called out. "He's a friend. A traveler who I came across after finishing what I'd set out to do." She nodded toward Pipit, signaling for him to come with her. Trying to ignore the scrutinizing eyes, he kept his head low. He could practically feel the searing looks of some of the women.
"Jinn," Lilith said, addressing a tall man in dark linen. Kneeling over a pile of laundry, he stood up. Pipit looked up at him before Lilith spoke again. "Believe it or not, this guy mends clothes like nobody's business. So, naturally, we handed the job over to him." She grinned at the demon. Pipit studied his extremely pale skin and white hair. He looked far too similar to Ghirahim. "Do you have an extra pair of men's underthings in that heap?" Jinn gave the knight an odd glance.
"Of course, Captain," he said, obviously wanting to please his leader. Returning to his miniature mountain, he salvaged an article made of soft, white material. Lilith gladly took it.
"It may be a little big," she said, turning to Pipit, "but, it'll do. Better than, um…" Looking down, she gave a slight head twitch.
"Yup, thanks," Pipit said, taking it. He did his best to present a polite smile to Jinn, but the demon's skeptical expression proved that his efforts had failed. Pipit was more than happy to exit the area.
"So, uh, how do I get back to the sky?" he asked, walking beside Lilith and viewing the layout of the camp. It was a large oval, with the hearth in the middle, surrounded by tent after tent, with people scattered everywhere. No matter what they were engaged in – sitting, standing, talking, eating, working – they all gawked at Pipit, mystified.
"You won't be going directly to the sky," Lilith corrected.
"I won't?"
"Of course not. This realm doesn't connect to the sky. It connects to the surface." They made their way toward the hearth and the people that had gathered around it. "I'm going to direct you toward one of the bridges between here and the surface. From there, you'll be able to find your way home. But, first…" They stopped beside the fire, joining the rest of the group. "…Are you hungry? Do you need anything?"
"Uh…" Pipit solidified against the ravenous stares of several women, all of which had long, white hair. Most of them were taller than he was. "Uh, I think you're asking the wrong person."
"Hm?" Lilith asked, almost smiling.
"Them…" Pipit answered. "They look pretty hungry."
"Oh. Yes, well, you're a man among demonesses at the moment, knight."
"So I see…"
"I should probably enlighten you on a demoness's affinity for human men." Pipit took in an eyeful of breasts, and seemingly never ending legs, all covered tautly in form-fitting uniforms. He cleared his throat.
"Please do…" After placing a glass canister in Pipit's free hand, Lilith grabbed herself a thin metal plate, stacked high with a generous portion of foraged vegetables, bread, and a fat slab of the catch of the day.
"You looked thirsty," she commented. "Let's go sit down."
"Sure."
"That's Mara," Lilith said, pointing. She picked her meat up by the bone and ripped a piece off with her teeth. "She's the best hunter we've ever had. This right here is thanks to her." She winked toward the distant demoness.
"Okay," Pipit said. "Why do you look so different from them?"
"Oh, I'll explain that in a minute, too," she said with a mouthful.
"Okay…cool." They entered a small circle made up of several unoccupied rocks for sitting. Pipit sat and took a sip of his water. She was right – he was more dehydrated than he'd realized.
"So…" Lilith said, leaning over the plate in her lap. "Demon women have a natural inclination toward human men." She tore a piece of bread. "They're looking at you because you have something that they need." She took a few moments to chew while Pipit waited.
"And that is…?"
"They want your seed," she said.
"They huh?"
"Do I really need to pick that apart for you?" He nodded, and she sighed. "They want to sleep with you, get in your pants, take advantage of you. Take your pick."
"Really?"
"Yes, really." Instead of replying with, 'Methinks mine eyes hast found heaven', he said,
"Damn, what kind of a camp did I come to?"
"One with demonesses."
"Well, I've already messed around with two different people tonight. Adding a third would bring me into new record territory." He shifted his eyes. "Actually, no, it wouldn't. If it were three people all at once it would be a new record." His eyes shifted again. "Actually, no, that's not true, either. I'm just gonna shut up now." He took another drink.
"Oh, no need to shut up." She swallowed. "If there's something you wanna tell, go right ahead."
"Is it a bad thing that I would probably give them my 'seed' if I wasn't already a mess?" Lilith tried not to choke.
"Hey, that's your business," she said with a giggle. "I won't stop you. If you feel like doing your part to repopulate this realm, be my guest."
"Damn you, Lord Rearagleem," he mumbled. Still, he knew he was better off behaving himself.
"Well, more importantly…" She dabbed at her mouth with a cloth before flipping her black curls behind her. "You probably want to know where you'll surface when you cross over to the surface. Right?"
"Oh, yeah, definitely. I'd also like to hear more about this human-demon addiction stuff-"
"I've never entered the surface realm myself, but I've seen it through several gateways. I'll explain it in a minute."
"Okay."
"Maybe you'd like to learn about my soldiers," she said. "Why they're here. They each have their own story, of course."
"Whatever you wanna tell me."
"Also, before you go, if you wanted to, you know, philander a bit, I'm sure there's innumerable ladies here who wouldn't mind. There's a nice warm pond a few hundred yards to the north. Just say the word and as many women as you want will probably beat you there." Pipit nearly dropped his drink.
"Don't scare me away from this camp before you have a chance to show me that bridge, now…"
"Hey, I'm just saying," she said, nonchalantly nibbling at her food. "But don't impregnate every one of my women. I can't have them all melon-bellied at the same time. Would make for some cumbersome missions."
"Yeah…" Pipit said, looking away. "Maybe you should just show me where that gateway is…now." Lilith just smiled. Her demon half just couldn't resist a little jovial temptation.
"You men are ridiculous."
