by Fox Lancet
“I advise you to make yourself scarce, Kaleb. I am in no mood for dealings with you and your filth.” Nefarion wore heavy knee-high boots similar to Syler’s and black canvas shorts that fell just past his knees.
Kaleb did not respond immediately and was reluctant to adhere to the request.
“You are not my Lord, Nefarion. You cannot banish me at your will.”
Nefarion’s face crinkled in anger.
“Normally I would enjoy bantering with you, Kaleb, but you have stolen what is mine and sent me wandering in a foreign realm. My patience for you is exhausted. Go flit off with your pathetic counterpart before I lose my temper, unless it is your will to die a slow, agonizing death this day.”
“Your threats have never convinced my dismissal before, what is giving you the confidence to order me around now?”
Nefarion had stopped next to Syler and now stepped forward, agitated fury seething from him. He reached behind and under his burgundy t-shirt. There was no hesitation when he produced a sawed-off shotgun, pointed it at his nemesis, and pulled the trigger.
The boom of the shot thundered off the houses, resonating through the neighborhood. Kaleb howled a blood-curdling scream, his left knee cap shattered, and gravity pulled him to the ground. Jacob shouted in surprise, but scooped up his captain, who yelped at the movement. Blood poured copiously from the giant wound, his lower leg dangling by a few tendons and muscle.
“My confidence stems from my having the upper hand.” Nefarion lowered the weapon to his side. “Do not make me ask again, Kaleb, or I will have to deal the death I have been reserving for a larger audience here and now.” Jacob glowered at the Demon King, his charge in too much pain to respond. No more words were exchanged and Jacob and Kaleb disappeared in a blur.
“Heal from that, you fucking parasite,” Nefarion mumbled in all seriousness as he tucked the heavy weapon back under his shirt. Syler put the back of his hand to his mouth, unable to stifle his chuckle, and motioned for his Lord to follow, hoping to clear the area before the shot came under investigation.
After walking briskly through the neighborhood in a prolonged silence, Syler wondered out loud:
“You did not question him of Saliea’s location.”
“Well, seeing that you know her name proves I did not make a mistake in neglecting to do so.” Syler led them down an alley running between fenced-off backyards and stopped at a parked car. The area was quiet save for a dog barking a few houses away. “I am pleased to have finally found one of you. This world is brimming with lifeforms.”
Syler nodded his agreement and replied, “I wish it could have been under less demeaning circumstances. In my defense, I had Jacob’s throat in my hands not moments before you found me. Wretched human disrupted the completion of my deed.” Syler entered the driver’s side of the unlocked vehicle. Nefarion slid into the passenger’s seat, the low roof bending his Mohawk. He pulled the lever beside the seat to recline it so he would not have to cant his neck. Syler began prying at the ignition with a switchblade, Nefarion watching carefully.
“You need not defend your situation. You had two of the strongest Seraphs to ward off. I am just pleased we were in proximity of each other to allow for my assist.”
The ignition popped off and hung from several wires below the steering column. He sliced one of the wires and shaved away its protective layer to reveal the live wire before stroking it together, creating sparks. The engine purred to life.
“Impressive. A skill I could have used many times since I have arrived.”
“I will instruct you in the process whenever you request.” Syler shut the door and put the car in drive, rolling it out of the alley. “May I ask how you knew Kaleb no longer had the key?”
“A woman I met informed me of events at the Gothic Theatre, that she believed Hunter was involved in it. When she disclosed the details to me I knew her assumption was correct and that Saliea was with him. The events took place days after Kaleb had taken her,” the last statement was snarled. “Hunter is with her now and she is unscathed, correct?” Nefarion demanded, glaring at his subordinate. Syler glanced from the road to his leader.
“Of course, Lord. Even despite their grating, Hunter has kept himself under control. Would you have been angered had he damaged her in retaliation for assaulting him several times?” Syler was interested in testing Saliea’s theory of Nefarion’s affinity for her without blatantly asking, concerned the question would not be admitted an honest answer.
“She could have flayed him until his skin was but fabric folded at his feet and I would expect her untouched.” Nefarion’s knuckles paled at the tight grip he had on the door handle. It snapped off a second later. The damage seemed to calm him and he let it drop to the floor and he continued more subdued. “Why? Did she attack him?” Syler smiled crookedly at the memory.
“Indeed, she did.”
Nefarion smiled briefly before becoming austere again. “What did he do to provoke her?”
“I am unsure of the incident they had the first night he attained her. At the warehouse, she wished not to be chained any longer and cut his arm with a concealed blade. Apparently she had several because when he attempted to break her vivacious behavior by forcing sex upon her, she stabbed him yet again.”
“He attempted what?” Nefarion roared, sitting up suddenly, the spikes on his head bending at a ninety-degree angle as his head met the roof. Syler did not flinch and shrugged.
“He did not succeed, Lord. I convinced him you would be displeased if he fulfilled the exploit. And I see that I was not mistaken.”
“You were not and the vile Demon will be punished for even considering the action.” Nefarion paused. “Hunter’s impulsive behavior can be as much a nuisance as it can be of value.” Syler cocked a brow and said nothing in response.
“It took Hunter and me many days to find her. We felt your crossing and it is evident you found her not long after. How did you locate her so swiftly?”
“Yes. I wondered of that myself. I suppose you did not see the same beacon as I when I first came onto this plane.” Syler shook his head, his features slightly strained. “When I first laid eyes on this city, I saw a red cloud in the distance that took a similar but rough form of a Succubus. It did not last nor did my clear senses. Contact with humans immediately diluted them,” Nefarion recounted as he leaned back in his seat, staring out the window and memorizing their route. “I just went in the direction I had seen the cloud and strayed as little as possible.” Syler nodded.
“What of Kaleb? Saliea claimed he had a chance to destroy you and he did not.”
Nefarion looked forward out the windshield. “Their laws state that he needs an audience to prove and glorify my demise. I also learned he has no interest in this world and wishes for us to take war back to ours.”
Syler snorted. “Of course he does. Weak peace-monger.”
Nefarion chuckled.
“Indeed. Sometimes I am disappointed that we have such a pitiful foe. Though, sometimes the ease of insulting and agitating them is quite entertaining. I can see here already we will have much more of a challenge.”
“So you mean to make an attempt at this world, rather than trap our enemy here?”
“Yes, I believe that is what I have decided. The war with the Seraphs has become dreary and I fear the other Legions are restless with the lack of war left on Trissana. Before long we will be battling one another. Here there is ample life to be harassed, recruited, or vanquished for many decades to come.”
“A sensible decision, Lord. I have already looked in that direction and have many starting points for you to consider if you wish.”
Nefarion grinned. “Of course you do, or you would not be my second-in-command.”
Syler slowed the car, pulling off to a side street two miles from the warehouse. He parked, but the pair remained seated.
“What sentinels remain at the gate?”
Nefarion growled, aware he had more than what should have been nec
essary, yet Kaleb had been capable of following him nonetheless.
“All but five of the lowest regiments stand on the other side. I also invited all of the legions to join us, to wait for me at the gate. Which reminds me that I must inform you that Calious is now part of the Elite. He commands The Horde and the gate at this moment.”
Syler nodded. “So the plan is already in motion. And Calious, he was the one who informed you of the breach?” Nefarion bowed his head in answer. Syler made the first move to exit the car, Nefarion following. After walking down the sidewalk in silence for a few moments, Syler spoke again.
“Lord, I believe we may have a setback concerning the gate.”
“What would that be, Syler?”
“The key has presented me with an anomaly.”
“Make your point.” His attention finally turned to Syler.
“Saliea and the Seraphs avert from one another. And she claims to be drawn intensely to us.” When Nefarion did not make any comment, he continued. “Either she is lying, or there is another key. The latter is more plausible, for the draw I have to her negates deception.”
“There must always be balance for any world to exist. After finding Saliea I realized this dilemma. However, our only concern lies in our enemy recognizing this fact.”
“Their stupidity does not present itself often enough,” Syler stated dryly. The pair began strolling northward.
“Unfortunately, but at this point we may bide our time, assuming they have not come to this conclusion just yet.”
Nefarion looked up at the orange sky, the sun behind the mountains in the west, its rays grasping at the sky in a reluctant farewell. A swift breeze brushed their flesh with cool air, hints of the coming night riding in its wake.
14
Torturous Events
“I despise you.” The large, black Demon pushed himself off the dirt, his eyes gleaming brilliantly. Their light cast a red glaze across anything he looked at, including Aisleen, who leered at him. She held up a fragile-looking hand from her seat on the ground. Calious waved it away.
“You have helped yourself already, I am confident you can manage again.”
She ignored him and stood, taking his hefty forearm in her spindly fingers. A sigh escaped him that contradicted the contemptuous look he gave the female Seraph, her delicate features still marred with dry blood. Without another word, he removed his arm from her grasp and began climbing back up the steep incline that they had slid down some time ago. Calious was mildly surprised that no one had come in search of him, seeing that much time had passed. Only one moon remained suspended in the sky. When he and Aisleen had disappeared down the hill, all three had been elevated.
Calious had only ascended a fraction of the climb when he heard the swoop of large wings and felt Aisleen’s arms twine around his chest, under his arms. Her magic skittered across his leather hide and he suppressed a moan. They were up the side of the peak in moments and she set him on the ledge, landing elegantly beside him. All the Demons were where he had left them, few regarding their return. Calious was not sure how to interpret the response. He thought he would receive accusing or amused stares. Rather he got a few imprudent glances.
“No one cares. I told you there is no shame in what is between us.” Her words were barely audible.
“Perhaps not to them, but to me there is endless shame,” he grumbled and dropped his dulled gaze to her. Oddly, the wicked Seraph grinned, the dry blood on her cheeks cracking. Calious squinted suspiciously at her.
“Tell yourself whatever you need to reassure your malignance.”
“I need to do nothing of the sort. Being part of The First Legion Elite is enough to affirm my status until my death.” Calious’s Demonic eyes scanned The Horde, the hundreds of bodies seething and breathing like one giant beast. Finally he found what he was searching for and steadied his gaze. Aisleen had made no contrary retort and he turned his head toward her without averting his eyes from his target.
“Would you like to join me in attempting to extricate information that we know we will not receive, but will lead to an enemy’s agonizing pain regardless?” When he had finished evoking the invitation, his eyes flicked toward Aisleen.
“Would I?” She subdued her astonishment smoothly and Calious noticed her disguise a refrained movement to touch him, turning it into a casual gesture of acquiescence to his offer. “Please, lead the way,” she drawled fiendishly.
“Gladly.” Calious stepped forward, putting the healer at his back to let her follow behind him as he sauntered determinedly toward Kaleb’s deliverer.
The female Seraph was still unconscious, blotches of her own dried blood tarnishing her smooth white skin. Eight Pride soldiers encircled her, another two crouching casually on rocks on either side of her. The number of soldiers seemed gratuitous as her right wing had been partially severed from her back and dangled loosely by slimy blue tendons. She would be making no escape by flight.
In contrast to Aisleen’s azure, waist-long hair, the new Seraph had white hair that cascaded down to the start of her gaunt legs. Also, the veins drawn through her sheer wings were a pale blue and shimmering gold, whereas Aisleen’s were a brilliant blue and glittering silver.
A pained groan parted the female’s slight lips that matched the color of her skin. She stirred softly, but did not come to. Calious watched her disdainfully.
“Move her to the clearing on the other side of the peak. And tie her between two lone trees on her knees. It is time for some amusement.”
The soldiers guarding her responded with fanged smiles and bowed their heads. Rapsnel, leader of the Pride regiment, took the comatose Seraph by one of her frail ankles and ordered one of his soldiers to follow suit with the other. When he left the order at that, Calious grinned proudly as the two Demons dragged her prone body through the merciless litter of the forest. Rapsnel could have more conveniently had someone carry her, or even had two others take her arms, but chose to have her carelessly jostled to her new location.
Halfway there, and several rocks and hostile plants later, the female Seraph began to wake with several soft, agonized moans.
There were sixty Pride soldiers, all of which followed pointedly, pleased to be the regiment to witness the female’s torture. The valley where she was being taken was just below Strace Peak however, and many more would be able to watch from a distance.
Before parting, Calious was sure to herald the repercussions of any more violations on the gate while he was out of its view. The warning most likely unnecessary, seeing Wrath had been disinterested in the upcoming event. Their lack of attraction did not surprise him. Both his original Apathy regiment and Wrath were in place at the top for the very reason that once given a task, there was nothing that could sway their attentions.
By the time the female Seraph was strapped accordingly between two trees standing out from the denser tree-line, she was conscious, her head lolling from slim shoulder to slim shoulder. Calious’s blood boiled, thrilled by the vision of her helpless, damaged form. His seething eyes dropped down to Aisleen, who stood gallantly on his right, also consumed by the sight of imminent torture. She felt his gaze and her head snapped in his direction. When she met his eyes, her chest rose and the corner of her mouth turned up in a pleased grin.
“Your skin could use a fresh swath of Seraph blood,” his voice grumbled from his throat, inviting her to make the first move. Her half-grin coalesced into a wicked smile before she was tucking her bottom lip in her teeth, nearly bouncing with excitement at his subtly noble gesture.
Aisleen danced up to the other Seraph and grabbed the roots of the silky white hair at the nape of her neck, yanking the female’s head back sharply. The Seraph’s lids were heavy, but her dead-blue eyes peeked out from under barely-there white lashes. Aisleen did not loosen her grip and placed her free hand on the base of the other Seraph’s neck, applying mild pressure.
“Hello, good sister. What may I call you?” Aisleen inquired gently into the captiv
e’s ear, her native language rolling off her tongue gracefully. The Seraph healer blinked slowly, attempting to focus on her surroundings, battling with her eyelids to pull back wider.
“Where am I?” The question fumbled from the incoherent Seraph after three attempts.
Aisleen smiled. “Somewhere safe. Now tell me your name, healer.”
“L-l-lenees,” she moaned. “I do not feel well.” A pause. “In so many ways.” Her words started coming together more clearly and her bald brow furrowed. “I feel so wrong, inside. And I feel so much pain.”
“Open your eyes, wretch,” Aisleen reverted back to the Demons’ repulsive, mangled language and pulled back to get a clear view of Lenees’s face to drink in the response.
Her features crinkled in despair and a small cry fell from her lips. A low hum of pleasure exuded from the spectators surrounding her as they breathed their approval at her reaction. The sound ignited the Seraph’s eyes into their defensive white luster.
“Get away from me,” Lenees shrieked and wrested weakly against her restraints. The hum turned into a mass chuckle, Demon bodies shifting eagerly. Aisleen released her and stood straight, laughing gleefully.
“Perhaps we will. But for now you are going to keep us entertained,” Aisleen spoke again in Seraph tongue, unsure whether the other female knew the Demon language. She then reached over Lenees’s shoulder and tugged on her wounded wing ever so lightly. Lenees cried out. The cry was echoed with several Demon barks and growls. Aisleen glanced over at Calious, who was standing several feet away, his attention rapt on her and her victim.
“I am no one’s plaything. Release me, you wicked traitor,” Lenees demanded as firmly as she could in her delicate language and smooth voice. Aisleen ignored her, her attention still directed at Calious.
“Commander, come, have a turn.” Calious’s red eyes soaked in Aisleen’s visage before turning them hungrily to Lenees. The sight of a female Seraph intent on damaging her own was staggering. He ran a purple tongue over his fangs and crept hesitantly toward the pair, ideas of what he would do to Lenees tumbling through his mind. His eyes continued to pass back and forth between the females; one standing imposing and strong beside the second, weak and feeble.