Endless Flight

by A. C. Cobble

  “What Rhys suspected last night is correct, I think,” she said. “The demon scouted our camp but turned away.”

  “Why?” asked Corinne. Her curiosity was winning over her desire to argue.

  “It saw me,” answered Towaal.

  “You think it could sense your power?” asked Amelie.

  “I wasn’t sure, but I believe this track supports the notion. We are better off assuming it’s true,” replied Towaal.

  “You need to come clean with us, now!” growled Grunt.

  “Do you remember the spark Amelie made when we first met in Northport?” asked Towaal.

  Grunt nodded hesitantly.

  Corinne remarked, “Handy little parlor trick, right?”

  “It’s not a parlor trick,” responded Towaal. “And I can make a much, much bigger one.”

  Corinne frowned.

  Grunt’s eyes widened in surprise. “A mage!” he shouted.

  Corinne looked at him then back at Towaal in shock.

  Towaal simply nodded affirmation.

  “Wait,” realized Corinne. “If you are a mage, then what is she?” she asked, looking to Amelie.

  “I’m still in training,” answered Amelie with a smile.

  “I thought that was just some gimmick,” mumbled Corinne.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” demanded Grunt.

  “Would you have joined us if I did?” replied Towaal. “People are suspicious of mages. They are nervous about what we are capable of. I’ve found it’s easier to only share that knowledge when it’s needed. Up until now, you didn’t need to know.”

  The man frowned but didn’t answer.

  Towaal continued, “You are right about one thing. An immature demon should not have the wisdom to be afraid of me or the foresight to scout our potential path. A demon that left tracks this size shouldn’t be acting like it is.”

  “So, what is it?” asked Ben.

  Rhys answered. “A swarm is led by an arch-demon. No one has been able to study the relationships closely, of course. There is speculation that the arch-demon is able to…direct the other creatures to some extent.”

  “Direct them on a scouting mission?” asked Grunt skeptically.

  Rhys shrugged. “That is the only explanation I can think of for what we’re seeing.”

  “What does it mean?” wondered Ben.

  “It means,” explained Lady Towaal, “that the demons are planning an ambush. They were smart enough to avoid our camp when I was awake on watch and they are smart enough to scout our potential path for a site to attack us.”

  “It was stupid enough to leave tracks we could find,” pointed out Corinne.

  Towaal smiled. “That is true. While they are displaying an unprecedented instinct for tactics, they are still beasts and not men. We need to turn it on them. If there is an arch-demon with sufficient maturity to think at this level, we should be very concerned. We need every advantage we can get.”

  ***

  The rest of the day was filled with nervous tension. Grunt held his crossbow as they walked and Corinne kept an arrow nocked though not drawn. Ben and the others left the hilts of their weapons free, but there were no other tracks sighted and no incidents.

  They stopped early that evening when they saw a concave rock wall beside the creek bed. It wasn’t quite a cave, but it was deep enough to provide shelter and prevented anything coming from behind them or dropping down on top of them, snow or demon.

  Going about the normal evening tasks of settling the camp was difficult. Towaal instructed everyone to try and appear normal.

  “The risk isn’t while the sun is out,” said Rhys, laying out his bedroll on a cleared patch of ground.

  “Try to get some sleep now,” advised Grunt to Ben. “Rhys is right. Once the sun falls, we need to be on alert.”

  At the risk of not appearing normal, all but two of them laid down to rest while the light was still out. They anticipated a long night ahead where they would pretend to sleep while waiting for the demons to attack. Depending on how long that took, they could be up all night.

  Ben found he had trouble sleeping. He couldn’t stop thinking about a swarm of snarling demons descending on them.

  They had made what preparations they could. With limited time and the frightening idea that demons may be watching them, they were limited in how ready they could be. Grunt and Corinne thought it would come down to an ugly, brutal fight—toe to toe, steel versus claw.

  After several bells of clenched teeth and furtive glances into the darkness, it was Ben’s watch. Rhys pretended to shake him awake and mumbled under his breath that it was all quiet so far.

  Ben sat and made a show of stretching. Once he did, he realized that his muscles and joints were nearly frozen from lying still in the cold night. He stretched in earnest while Rhys flipped back his bedroll.

  Rhys passed him a silver flask and offered, “Something to warm you up.”

  “Should I be drinking right now?” queried Ben.

  “At any minute, a swarm of angry demons could be descending on this camp, trying to tear our throats out and drain the life-blood from our bodies. We don’t know how many of them there are or when they might hit us.” Rhys looked in Ben’s eyes. “Have you ever had a better time for a drink?”

  Ben shrugged and took a small sip from Rhys’ flask. He coughed harshly and handed it back to the rogue. The fiery liquor reminded him of Myland’s brew in the first Free State.

  “Sorry,” apologized Rhys. “I’m saving the good stuff for myself.”

  Rhys turned and crawled into his bed roll, keeping one side open and his longsword within reach.

  Ben shook his head at his friend’s antics and moved to sit by a large boulder that had been tumbled down the creek sometime in the past. Ben’s role was to sit and keep watch for a few minutes then pretend to drift off to sleep on the boulder. He’d keep his eyes open just a slit and watch for any movement.

  The rest of the party was lying down, pretending to sleep in their bed rolls. As soon as Ben shouted, they would be on their feet and prepared to fight. They didn’t think the surprise to the demons would be an advantage, but they hoped to lure them in while everyone was prepared. If you’re going to face a demon swarm, it’s better to do it when you are expecting it, and not get surprised later.

  Ben noticed Amelie’s eyes reflecting the firelight and hoped that he was the only one who could see it. He couldn’t blame her. It was almost impossible to lie still and wait, bell after bell.

  He smiled and winked at her. He chuckled to himself when her eyes snapped shut and faint snoring sounds emitted from her direction.

  Relaxing as much as he could on the hard, cold boulder, Ben leaned back and rested his head against the rock that made up the shallow cave they were in. He put one hand on his longsword and tried to let the tension in his body dissipate. It wasn’t really working, but maybe it would be enough to trick a demon.

  Half a bell later, he almost jumped off the boulder when a slender, dark shape quietly floated down from the opposite creek bank.

  Against the white show, the profile of a small, winged demon stood out clearly in the moonlight.

  Ben’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. He fought hard to not make any sudden movements. They wanted to be sure an attack was happening before showing they were ready.

  Completely silent, the small demon darted forward and stopped on the far side of the creek. It stayed there briefly, then retreated and swiftly ascended the bank, disappearing from Ben’s sight.

  Getting its friends, he thought.

  He didn’t have to wait long. Two minutes later, several dark shapes plummeted off the creek bank, landing with soft thumps in the powdery snow. They charged across the flat.

  “Now!” shouted Ben, leaping to his feet.

  Piles of firewood burst into flame at the same time the demons hurtled over the creek, jumping wildly to avoid the narrow stream of water.

  Grunt’s crossbow thumped an
d Corinne’s bow twanged. There was no time for multiple shots before the demons got to them, but Ben saw at least one crash to the ground, shrieking a pained cry.

  The light from the firewood piles illuminated the creatures as they made it across the creek. Towaal had lit them using her magic and heat from the campfire.

  Unfortunately, cold, which they had in abundance, wouldn’t damage the naturally resistant demons. The icicle trick she used on Lady Ingrid would also be useless. Towaal explained it took too long to form the frozen material and direct it. Ingrid had been stationary and the demons were moving as fast as a prime race horse.

  Ben tried counting their attackers but didn’t have time. A small wave of demons was on them within heartbeats of his companions rising to their feet.

  Rhys rushed forward and met them first. Grunt flanked him on the right and Ben on the left. They hoped to keep a space to allow Corinne to continue firing arrows. Towaal and Amelie were behind her and away from direct contact. Amelie’s rapier and defensive fighting style would be ineffective against the brutes. Towaal didn’t need to be close for what she had planned.

  Rhys slashed back and forth neatly, carving into two of the things and pushing them back, gaining the women valuable space to work behind them.

  An arrow flew over Ben’s shoulder and caught one of the dark shapes in the shoulder. It kept coming.

  Ben stepped up and squared off with one of the thin varieties. Just like the one in Snowmar, it reached out and tried to catch his longsword. He let it wrap its hand around his blade. Then he twisted and yanked, slicing off fingers. This time, he continued his movement and drew his blade across the demon’s neck, cutting almost to the bone.

  A gurgling scream penetrated his ears, and the thing fell backward, clawing at the fountain of purple blood pumping out onto its shoulder.

  Ben turned and took a wild swing at the back of a demon facing Rhys, catching a meaty piece of its shoulder, spinning it around. Rhys darted over and thrust his blade deep into its back.

  Grunt was alone, facing the last two standing demons. He was holding them at bay with his heavy bastard sword. An eviscerated body of a third demon showed why the other two were reluctant to get too close.

  Ben took a step to help him but was startled when Corinne shouted, “Ben, down!”

  He turned to see her loose an arrow right at him. A heartbeat later, he realized it was going high, right above his head. He heard it impact a body and another thin demon crashed down on top of him, flailing violently. Claws dug painfully into his back, gouging flesh and forcing him to the ground.

  Ben shoved it away and rolled in the snow, trying to gain distance to use his sword.

  Behind him and across the narrow creek, a deep voiced roar split the night and shook his bones.

  The small demon paused momentarily and Ben took advantage, leaping forward off his knees and cutting it down.

  Several more booming roars followed and his blood ran cold. From the other creek bank, seven ox-sized creatures sprinted toward them. They were bigger than the one in Snowmar, and they moved like wolves on the hunt. They were the largest demons he had seen. At least until he saw what loomed behind them—a massive shape he struggled to comprehend. Standing twice as tall as him and with wings extending the width of a small house, it started moving forward.

  “Oh, shit,” muttered Rhys.

  It was an arch-demon. Ben swallowed hard. The thing was huge. He glanced over and saw Rhys was standing near a heavily panting Grunt. The demons Grunt had been facing now lay dead on the ground.

  Both men’s swords rose and they set themselves, prepared to meet the next wave. Ben struggled to force down a surge of terror as the huge black shapes easily cleared the small creek.

  “Aim for the neck!” yelled Rhys.

  A crackle and pop split the air. The hairs on the back of Ben’s neck stood on end. Lady Towaal joined the fight.

  A brilliant blaze of ball lightning burst around the men and rolled forward into the charging demons. Earsplitting howls of pain stabbed into Ben’s head.

  The first demon in the charge cartwheeled backward, flames bursting from its chest where the lightning impacted it. The iridescent bolt of energy traveled back and jumped from demon to demon, cascading through the first seven and making them dance like marionettes on a string.

  The lightning leapt from the first wave and imploded in on the arch-demon coming behind the others. It was still on the far side of the creek and was enveloped in a brilliant web of exploding, hissing light.

  An incredible roar tore out of the demon’s throat. The sound and vibration was enough to send Ben stumbling back several steps.

  For several sustained heartbeats, the lightning continued to pound the massive creature. All energy focused on blasting into its body, again and again.

  Then suddenly, it stopped. Ben heard Lady Towaal thump to the ground behind him.

  All was silent but for the crackling pop of small fires dancing on the bodies of the demons. The air was filled with the awful, acrid stench of burning flesh.

  In the fading bonfires they had set, Ben could see smoke rising off of the bodies. Nothing moved out in the creek bed.

  “What in the…” started Grunt. He stepped forward to examine the bodies, visibly stunned he was still alive.

  A bestial roar exploded from the arch-demon, loud enough to shake showers of snow out of the trees behind it. It staggered to its feet, flames licking its wings where Towaal’s lightning had torched it. One then two shuddering steps forward, and the creature hurtled into the sky, its tattered wings flapped to propel it toward the companions.

  Grunt, in front of the others, raised his bastard sword, but then jumped backward when the huge demon landed right where he had been standing.

  The ground shook under Ben’s boots with the impact of the landing.

  Grunt yelled an unintelligible battle cry and stepped forward, swinging his huge sword at the beast. One swing was brushed aside by a heavy-clawed hand, but then the next sunk deep into the demon’s side.

  Purple blood flowed out. Grunt snarled, yanking hard to clear his blade, but the demon caught it with one hand. The creature reached forward with its other hand and gripped Grunt’s arm.

  Rhys flew at it. Swinging to avoid Grunt, he slashed and cut deeply into one of the demon’s arms, springing loose the hand that was on Grunt’s sword. It still had Grunt’s arm though. It rose to its full height, taking Grunt with it. Dangling in the demon’s powerful grip, his legs kicked helplessly in the cold air. The creature grabbed his other arm. Roaring in the hunter’s face, it slowly tore him apart.

  Guts, gore, and the remains of what had once been a strong, powerful man, rained down onto the trampled snow.

  Rhys, unable to reach high enough on the demon or around Grunt’s body to deliver a killing blow, chopped into the demon’s other side. Now, twin rivers of purple blood flowed down its ribcage and legs. It didn’t seem to slow it.

  The demon swung at Rhys, half of Grunt’s body still in its clawed hands. The rogue ducked low to avoid the decapitating blow.

  Ben stepped forward, unsure how to attack the monster.

  “Stay back,” warned Rhys, calling over his shoulder at Ben. “Guard for other demons while I’m out,” he instructed.

  Ben, unsure what Rhys meant, felt a thump in his chest and saw Rhys’ longsword ignite with a glowing white light. Over Rhys’ shoulder, Ben could see the sigils on the blade were blazing forth with the light of a small moon.

  The demon, dropping the remains of Grunt’s body, covered its eyes and stepped back.

  Rhys surged forward and, with one mighty blow, cut through the towering creature’s leg, severing it at the knee.

  Squealing in an unexpectedly high pitch, the demon dropped down. Rhys spun in a full circle and with incredible speed. He hacked the demon’s massive head from its body. Almost a pace wide and with horns extending the length of Ben’s arm, the head landed heavily on the ground.

  Smo
ke trailed from Rhys’ longsword and Ben was startled to see the demon’s purple blood burning off the weapon, leaving it as clean as when Rhys pulled it from his scabbard.

  Recovering from the wind up and swing, Rhys stumbled a few steps to the side like a drunk after a long night in the tavern. He dropped his blade, the light extinguishing immediately, and fell full-length, face first in the snow.

  ***

  The putrid scent of burned demons filled Ben’s nostrils. He nearly vomited at the unpleasant aroma. Instead, he choked back the wave of bile in his throat and crawled out of his bedroll.

  Corinne, sitting on the same boulder Ben was when the attack started, looked his way. Her eyes had a far-off look, like someone who spent the last couple of bells realizing there was a lot more to the world than they thought. Ben understood that look.

  “Anything?” asked Ben.

  She shook her head silently. Of course not, thought Ben. If there had been other demons or another attack, she would have woken them.

  In front of him, the carnage of the night before was splayed out in a visceral tableau. While Corinne continued to stare sightlessly, Ben walked forward and observed in the light of day what he had only seen by firelight the night before. Nineteen demons and one hunter lay dead. Ben didn’t even remember facing all of the creatures, but there they were. He avoided the red splatter where Grunt had gone down and walked amongst the demons instead. Most had wounds from Rhys’ and Grunt’s swords. A few had arrows sticking out of their bodies. The biggest ones had burns from Lady Towaal’s lightning.

  The arch-demon was charred nearly head to toe, impossible to see the night before. It had gapping wounds were both Rhys and Grunt had cut it deeply. Its head, lying propped on one side by its long curving horns, came up to Ben’s waist. He shuddered and stayed back, certain it was dead, but still unwilling to go near those incredible fangs.

  Uncomfortable after examining the head, he walked back to Corinne.

  “I didn’t even shoot,” she said morosely.

  “What do you mean?” asked Ben. Her arrows were jutting out of several of the monsters behind him.

  “That thing.” She pointed to the arch-demon. “It literally tore my friend in two. I didn’t even shoot it. I just sat there, too scared to act. How can I call myself a hunter if I’m too scared to face a demon?”