Fury of a Demon

by Brian Naslund

  Lok dropped to his knees, eyes bulging and struggling to breathe. Face turning red. Nola didn’t think that he was going to die, but she wouldn’t have made a wager against it, either.

  A few things happened very quickly.

  Elondron drew one of his knives. So did his two remaining men with open airways. Pern held his ground, despite being outnumbered and unarmed. But behind him, without prompting, the regulars of the Cat’s Eye tavern snatched up their knives and forks. Nola grabbed Grittle by the back of her apron and yanked her over to her side of the bar.

  “Appears we have a bit of a fix brewing here,” Elondron said. He looked down at Lok. “A real big one, if he dies.”

  Everyone was tense and quiet as they watched Lok. Most of Nola’s patrons were old or crippled or both. Not fighters. But there were a lot more of them, and nobody seemed eager to back down. Even Jakell and Vindy and the Papyrian sisters had knives in their hands and hard stares in their eyes.

  After what seemed like a very long time, Lok finally managed to suck in a proper breath of air. With great effort, he stood up. Pointed at Pern.

  “Gonna kill you, old man.”

  “Give it a try,” Pern growled.

  “Nobody’s killing anyone in my tavern!” Nola shouted, keeping Grittle behind her, but moving forward so she was between the two opposing sides. “We clear on that?”

  “Can’t let this pass, Nola,” said Elondron. “You need to make it right.”

  “Your man’s the one who threw the chair leg,” said Nola. “A bump to the throat’s about right, I think.”

  “That was a lot more than a bump,” Lok muttered, then pointed at Trotsky, who was getting helped up by Jakell while Vindy held a napkin to the gash in the side of his head. “Look. He’s fine.”

  “So are you,” said Nola. “Now how about all of you just fuck off for the day, yeah? Come back when cooler heads prevail.”

  Lok shook his head. Drew his own knife and pointed it at Pern. “I’m gonna open your wrinkly throat, old man.”

  A lot of shouting ensued, most of it coming from her patrons, expressing their unhappiness with that statement, and plans to open other throats in return.

  “Quiet!” Nola yelled. “Everyone shut up!”

  Nola knew that this had spoiled everything. One thrown chair leg, and it was all ruined. But there was no way that she was letting them murder Pern so she could make rent. No way.

  “Elondron,” she said. “You and your men need to get out of my tavern. Never come back.”

  Elondron absorbed that news with a devious smile. “We’ll leave. But we will come back.”

  “Just try it,” growled Dervis, coming up next to Pern. “See what happens.”

  “Please. You only got one arm, and you’re gonna be shaking for the sticky in an hour.” He smiled again, wider. “And that’s when I’ll come knocking.”

  Things stayed tense for another moment. It broke when one of Elondron’s men lowered his knife and pointed out the front window of the tavern with a shaking finger.

  “Is that one o’ the flying ships?”

  Most of the people in the tavern assumed it was a foolish trick, but Elondron squinted out the window, and his face changed into an expression that was full of genuine and abject panic.

  “Oh,” he whispered. “Gods.”

  That got everyone to turn around except for Nola, who kept her eyes on Elondron just in case he was a better actor than she gave him credit for. But all he did was let his mouth hang open in terror.

  “No-Nola?” Grittle asked, tugging at her apron. “Look…”

  Nola turned.

  There was a skyship coming in from the east. It had black sails and iron armaments jutting from its deck. The smell of burning dragon oil filled Nola’s nostrils as it got closer.

  “How did they get past the dragons?” Vindy asked, ducking down beneath a table, as if that was going to save her.

  “It’s impossible,” said Jakell. “The Blackjacks always protect Deepdale.”

  “Well, they’re not protecting us anymore,” said Nola.

  The skyship stopped a block away from the tavern. Nola saw black ropes drop to the street. They thrashed and snapped like snakes, then a series of figures slid down them in quick succession.

  They all wore black armor with animal fur around the collar. Their faces were painted blood red.

  Wormwrot.

  The mercenaries drew weapons and fanned out along the street. One of them headed for the tavern with a grim purpose and kicked the door open with muddy boot. He slammed the pommel of his sword into the man nearest the door, spraying teeth across the floor. Six other mercenaries came through the door behind him.

  “Come quiet, no kill,” said the man who’d kicked in the door. He spoke broken Almiran with a thick accent that Nola didn’t recognize. “Make fuss, die with guts jammed down throat.”

  There was a moment of tense silence as the Wormwrot men realized they’d just barged into a tavern where every single patron was holding at least some kind of weapon. The man with the strange accent frowned, and the smallest look of uncertainty crossed his face.

  “Kill these foreign fucks!” Elondron shouted, then rushed forward with his knife.

  The whole tavern lit up with a war howl. One Wormwrot swiped at Elondron, but he slid to the side and rammed a knife through his ear. Left it there. Grabbed a bottle and smashed it against another Wormwrot’s painted face.

  “Nola, knife!” shouted Pern.

  She grabbed her heaviest butcher knife and gave it a clumsy throw. Despite her shitty aim and angle, Pern caught it by the handle and then rushed forward, cleaving a mercenary’s head apart. Everyone else rushed forward, shoving, stomping, stabbing, and kicking.

  “Nola!” cried Grittle.

  The man with the strange accent had snuck around the bar and yanked Grittle to the floor. He reared up with his sword, moving to stab her.

  Nola didn’t think. She threw a jar of pickles at his head, which shattered and got him to stop long enough for her to sprint across the room and start kicking him in the face.

  Once.

  Twice.

  And then a lot more. So many times she lost track and her thigh was aching when it was over and the man’s face was bloody, his teeth broken. He finally released Grittle from his grasp, groaning from the boot kicks.

  Nola grabbed Grittle and carried her to the far corner of the bar. Her shoulders were heaving. Her heart was racing. Her mouth felt like she’d been sucking on a copper coin. Gods, she was scared.

  But when she looked up, she saw that the other Wormwrot were dead.

  In all her life, Nola had never seen a man die. Now, in the space of one minute, she’d seen five of them murdered. Kicked one to the brink of death herself, seemed like.

  Outside, the ship was still hovering overhead and casting a shadow on the street. Wormwrot men were yelling and screaming at people in foreign languages, marching them out of their homes and buildings.

  “What do we do?” Vindy wailed.

  Nola looked to Pern, then to Elondron. Both of them had blood splashed across their faces, but didn’t appear to have an immediate answer to that question. Nola pointed to the alley door.

  “Out the back. Everyone.” She grabbed Grittle’s hands and placed them on the belt loop of her pants. “You do not let go of me, no matter what happens. Understand?”

  Grittle nodded. There were tears in her eyes.

  “It’s going to be okay.” Nola paused. “I promise.”

  * * *

  Everyone made it out of the tavern and down the alley to the first intersection without trouble. But things went to shit in progressive stages from there.

  The skyship had dropped men all over the city, so as soon as they left the shelter of the alley, Wormwrot men were on them—shoving people to the ground and binding their hands with lengths of black rope. Lok ran off on his own and got tackled by two soldiers. He resisted, and got his head slammed into the cobblesto
nes until he was either unconscious or dead.

  A mercenary grabbed Nola, then Pern grabbed the mercenary and dislocated his shoulder with a hard jerk.

  “Keep moving!” he growled through gritted teeth.

  “To where?” asked Jakell. He was holding Vindy’s hand tight.

  “We need to get out of Deepdale,” said Elondron. “This way. Quick.”

  Nola followed Elondron down another alley, but someone grabbed her ankle and pulled her to the ground. Her ear slammed against the road and she lost all hearing on that side. She wormed and kicked and eventually broke free from whoever had grabbed her. Grittle helped her back up to her feet.

  They reached the next alley and kept running. Nola’s face was blurry with tears and her ankle was screaming in pain. Grittle slipped in a dirty puddle and went down, yelping as she skinned her palms on the rough stones. Nola hauled her back up.

  “Keep going,” she whispered. “We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

  She was saying it for Grittle, but she was saying it for herself, too.

  Elondron, Jakell, and Vindy were ahead of her now. She wasn’t sure who was behind.

  Jakell ducked behind a set of crates and pulled out a set of keys.

  “What are you doing?” Nola hissed, when Jakell started to open the door.

  “This is my shop,” he said, opening the door. “We’ll hide inside.”

  “Wormwrot are everywhere. Your shop won’t hide us forever. We need the Gloom.”

  Pern sidled up next to Nola. Trotsky was behind him. No sign of Suko or Kiko or anyone else. Was that it? There had been twenty people in the tavern.

  Jakell got the door open with a click. “Do what you want, we’re hiding in here. There’s a good spot.”

  He and Vindy went inside, and Jakell pulled up the carpet of his workshop, revealing a trapdoor underneath. Nola gave Pern and Trotsky a look. “What do you think?”

  “I’d reach the Gloom if I could,” said Trotsky. “But with my knee, I can’t believe I got this far.”

  Nola turned to Elondron. “Give me a minute. I want to check it out.”

  Elondron wiped his brow, leaving a dirty smear across his forehead. “No promises.”

  Nola took Grittle’s hand and went inside the workshop. Jakell had a decent-sized crawlspace beneath the floor that was lined with shelves of canned food.

  “Jakell,” muttered Trotsky. “How did you save all this?”

  “Huh?” asked Jakell, who was struggling with the trapdoor. “Oh, well. Everyone needs shoes. Except Silas fucking Bershad. C’mon. Everyone get down here.”

  Vindy went first, then Jakell. He extended his hand.

  Nola grabbed Grittle’s hand and pressed it into his. “Go.”

  Grittle clambered down. Look up at her and extended her hand. “C’mon, Nola!”

  Nola squinted at the space. There was only enough room left for one person. Any more, and they wouldn’t be able to close the hatch.

  “Trotsky, you go,” she said.

  “What? No, you need to stay with your sister.”

  “It’s like you said, Trotsky. With your knee, you’ll never make it out.” She looked at him. “And I need a warden to protect my sister. Understand? You keep her safe.”

  Trotsky gave her a slow nod. “I will.”

  Nola knelt down. “Grittle—”

  “No!” her sister cried, batting at her with her hands. “No, no, no. You can’t leave me!”

  “Grittle. Stop. Stop it.” Nola put both hands on her shoulders. Got her to stop struggling. “I need you to be strong now. I need you to be brave.”

  “I’m so scared.”

  “I know that you are,” said Nola. “I’m scared, too. But you’re going to be safe in there until I get back. I’ll go get help. I’ll get Lord Silas.”

  Grittle sniffled. “Do you promise?”

  Nola’s voice caught in her throat. “I promise.”

  She kissed her sister’s forehead. Hugged her tight.

  “Now go. Go down with Trotsky. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Once they’d managed to crunch themselves into the crawlspace, Pern helped Nola close the trapdoor and throw the carpet over it again. They locked the workshop behind them.

  Elondron was still outside. He opened his mouth to say something cruel, no doubt, but stopped short when he saw Nola’s face. He gave a little nod. “I can get us out of the city. Then we can track down the Jaguar Army and bring them back.”

  “How?”

  “Canal gate. There’s a route we use to get in and out of the city unseen.”

  She nodded. “Lead the way.”

  Wormwrot were everywhere, but they managed to avoid the patrols by sticking to the alleys and side streets, using the shadows and the refuse as cover. By the time they reached the canal gate, Nola was completely covered in mud. Her lungs were burning. The acid feeling of terror was burning through her stomach. Pern was wheezing in a way that made it sound like his lungs were full of dust.

  Problem was, there was a score of Wormwrot waiting there. They were rounding up anyone who tried to leave the city and throwing them into a big wagon.

  “Why are they bothering to take prisoners?” asked Pern from their hiding spot behind a broken wagon.

  Elondron shrugged. “All I know is that I’m not in a rush to become one.”

  “But we’re never getting past them,” said Pern.

  Nola looked around. Tried to think of something.

  “The canal,” she said. “We can get out that way.”

  “Swim the tube?” Elondron asked. “You’re crazy.”

  “We used to do it as kids on dares,” said Nola. “It’s not that hard, the current does most of the work.”

  “The fuck it does.”

  “It’s our only way out of the city.”

  Elondron chewed on that. “The current does most of the work?”

  “Right.”

  “I’m in.”

  Pern scanned the canal. Every breath that he took was a dry wheeze. He looked back at the guards. They weren’t shoving anyone in the wagons currently, just watching the different streets.

  “I’ll distract them.”

  Nola frowned. “You sure?”

  “They’re not killing people. Not yet, anyway. Better to take my chances in the wagon than try to hold my breath in that tunnel.”

  “All right.” She turned to Elondron. “Look, I know we were inching toward a bit of a problem back there, but—”

  “Forget it,” he said. “We’ve got a bigger problem now.” He paused. “It’s my city, too. Last thing I’m gonna do is let the fucking Balarians take it. We get out, then we get to the Jaguars.”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  Pern gave her a nod. “I’m ready.”

  The old warden took a moment to collect himself, then broke from cover and charged the gate, bellowing out a war cry that turned into another wheeze. Only two Wormwrot responded to his charge at first, but when he tripped one of them and slipped past the other, more rushed him.

  That’s when Nola broke for the canal.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Pern get stiff-armed and dropped to the ground. Someone pinned his arm behind his back.

  By the time one of the mercenaries noticed Nola running for the canal, she still had about fifty paces to go.

  Shit. Faster. Faster.

  Nola heard shouting in a foreign language. Then the clomp of boots behind her. She cleared the road, then the overgrowth that bordered the canal.

  Leapt into the air.

  Someone grabbed her by the hair. Ripped her to the ground.

  Elondron had all his momentum going toward the canal, so there was nothing he could do when the man who’d grabbed her hair clotheslined him with a sheathed sword. He slammed into the ground next to her.

  Nola gasped for air. Elondron clutched his chest.

  The man who had hit them wasn’t wearing face paint. That made it easy for Nola to see that both his skin a
nd long hair were as pale as freshly fallen snow.

  “It appears we have caught a pair of fish,” he said in fluent Almiran.

  Nola was still too stunned to do much besides sit on the ground and gasp, but Elondron was apparently faster to recover from being snatched back to the earth with sudden violence. He lunged toward the pale man, who caught him by the throat. Lifted him off his feet.

  “Brave fish, as it were,” he said.

  Elondron didn’t respond. Couldn’t, really, with the man’s hand clamped around his throat.

  “Silas Bershad will find out what you’ve done,” Nola hissed. “And when he does, he’ll come back for us.”

  The pale man responded with a smile. “I’m counting on it.”

  He glanced over the lip of the canal, down at the rushing water. Turned back to Elondron.

  “Tell you what,” the pale man continued. “I will let you take your chances with the river, under one very simple condition. Should you survive, you will find Silas Bershad and deliver a message to him. Do you agree to these terms?”

  He relaxed his grip on Elondron’s throat just enough for him to rasp out two strained words.

  “What. Message.”

  “Tell him that Vallen Vergun now rules Deepdale. And so long as I do, none of her people will see the shelter of a roof or a bed. None will taste any food. Meanwhile, I will take each of my daily meals from their flesh. And I will continue doing so until he comes to see me, or I run out of people to eat.”

  Nola’s throat went dry. Vision blurry with panic. That’s why they weren’t killing anyone. This insane man was going to eat them all.

  Nola thought of Grittle. Prayed to all the forest gods she was still hidden.

  “Do you understand this message?” Vergun asked.

  Elondron nodded.

  “Good.” Vergun threw Elondron into the water with casual disregard. He landed in the canal’s rain-swollen and brown water. Disappeared.

  While he was momentarily distracted, Nola got up and ran.

  She wasn’t heading in any particular direction. Just away from that insane cannibal. But she only made it a few strides before someone grabbed her by the back of the neck and threw her to the ground again.

  She looked up to find the battered face of the Wormwrot whose face she’d kicked in at the tavern. He was smiling at her with a set of black, broken teeth.