Dreamers Do Lie

by Megan Cutler

  A second round of shrieks filled the air as the demon lumbered forward, cutting through the crowd with a swift swing of one arm. How long would it take to reach them?

  “We don't have time to argue,” Arimand bellowed. “Get Lady Kaylie to safety!”

  Eselt opened his mouth to protest. The demon unleashed a roar that left the entire square vibrating, buildings and all. Kaylie pressed both palms to her ears, but it didn't dim the horrific howl.

  “Sulard,” Eselt roared, “make sure this idiot gets back to the ship in one piece!” Then he grabbed Kaylie's arm, dragging her the first few steps until she found wits enough to run. She glanced over her shoulder.

  Arimand drew his sword from the sheath at his hip.

  “Please, my lady,” Eselt grunted between breaths. “I don't like this any more than you do. If he gets himself squashed, we'll all be undone.”

  Despite the growing weakness in her limbs, Kaylie jerked her hand from Eselt's grip. Instead of throwing herself forward, she turned back toward Arimand, the man who promised to protect her. How could she abandon him? He was the source of all her hope.

  Their eyes locked and he mouthed the word run.

  From what she knew of him, Arimand possessed extraordinary resolve. But how much would that help against a demon? What would happen to their little expedition if he didn't survive?

  The demon's head shifted and Kaylie's breath caught in her throat. It was looking for her.

  Arimand had already turned and lifted his blade. Kaylie dug her heels into the ground a moment longer. Clasping both hands in front of her, she growled between clenched teeth, “Don't you die on me, Arimand!”

  Then she turned, darting past Eselt even as he reached for her arm. Their guards scrambled to gather fallen water skins. Kaylie propelled herself through the holes in the crowd, Eselt's steady tromping close behind her.

  She had to do her part, had to escape before the demon located her. Yet a growing sense of dread consumed her as each step took her farther from her protector.

  Chapter Ten: Discord in the City

  Arimand faced the demon with rage rather than fear. Fear served no purpose. He couldn't wield it. Rage provided strength.

  “Keep its attention on us,” he told the nine men clustered beside him. “Eselt and the others need a chance at that water.” By now, its former owners had fled. They were unlikely to return any time soon.

  Bending, Arimand snatched a sizable rock in his left hand. The thump and shudder of the demon's bulk had shaken it free of a nearby building. He tested its weight for a moment before launching it. The rock bounced off the demon's shoulder.

  Growling, it focused on the path of the projectile.

  Following his lead, Sulard and his men retrieved pieces of debris and lobbed them at the demon's hairy chest. A couple even launched their spears, though they bounced uselessly off the creature's thick hide.

  The demon opened its mouth, revealing razor sharp teeth as it unleashed an outraged howl, then it dropped to all fours and charged.

  Arimand slashed uselessly at the head as he dove out of the way. The others all scrambled to escape, though one poor soul didn't move fast enough. The demon scooped him up and tossed him aside. His scream terminated when he struck the side of a building and slid to the ground.

  The demon swung wildly, knocking several gawkers to the ground. Sulard took the opportunity to sink his spear into the soft flesh of its forearm.

  The point didn't get far before the shaft snapped. The demon removed the offending weapon the way it might remove a splinter.

  Arimand dashed toward an exposed ankle, slashing three times in quick succession. Each slice bit deeper than the last, finally drawing the creature's attention.

  Again, Arimand dove as the demon's leg sailed in his direction. He landed on his shoulder, pulled into a tight roll and sprang back to his feet. He didn't dare give ground and pin himself against a wall. He needed to draw the beast toward the center of the square instead.

  Black ichor dripped from the beast's wounds, heartening Arimand's weary companions. Another round of debris flew toward the demon's head as more spears found vulnerable flesh.

  Arimand took advantage of the distraction, driving his sword into the folds of flesh behind a kneecap. Then he withdrew the blade and darted forward, slicing the inside of an elbow.

  Unfazed by these scratches, the demon rose on its hind legs again, making it more difficult to strike critical locations. As it advanced, it crushed one of the defenders beneath a massive paw. Two others broke and ran.

  Sulard cursed their backs, but it didn't recover their senses. He rallied the rest of his fellows to strike with him.

  The demon easily broke their ranks, swatting men aside like insects. Most of the city dwellers who hadn't run had fallen by now.

  “We can't keep this up,” Sulard panted as he skidded to a halt beside Arimand and fumbled for something sharp to toss at the demon's head.

  “If we run now, it'll follow. We can't lead it back to the ship and we'll have less room to maneuver in the streets.” Panic might make the masses move, but they would still be in the way.

  One of the demon's feet slammed the ground beside them. Sulard tripped, tumbling backward. Instinctively, Arimand flipped his blade upward to ward off the crushing fist. He slid to his knees, bracing against the downward force.

  The demon's momentum carried his blade deep into its palm. With a cry of outraged pain, it jerked its hand back just short of crushing him. Arimand clung to the sword, wresting it free of the demon's flesh as its hand drew away.

  A backhanded slap sent him skidding across the pavement. His back crashed against the wall of a building, followed a moment later by his head.

  Black and purple spots filled his vision. They danced a waltz for several seconds before his vision cleared. His damned body might be sturdier than his mortal flesh had been, but he didn't think he could handle many more strikes like that one.

  The demon loomed above him, triumph blazing in its inhuman eyes. “Now you die,” it growled, its voice low and rough. It descended to all fours and charged, mouth open, fangs dripping.

  A voice spoke beside his ear. A frantic cry he couldn't quite hear. Something smashed into his side. The jolt sent a second set of dots dancing before his eyes. Dazed and off balance, Arimand's body moved in response.

  He found himself on the ground, sword in front of him, one hand cushioning his head. He couldn't have blacked out; the demon would have devoured him by now. He shook his head to clear it, gritted his teeth against the answering lance of pain, and recovered his sword as he rolled to his feet.

  He stumbled as he fought to regain his bearings. He stood alone in the square. Those the demon hadn't slain had abandoned him at last.

  The demon rose to its hind legs, blood dripping down its chest.

  That voice… His stomach twisted, heavy with dread.

  Sulard.

  He glanced over his shoulder, tracing the crimson trail back to its origin. The half-mauled remains lay sprawled across a pile of rubble at the base of the building. His former companion must have taken his place moments before the demon's jaws snapped closed.

  The creature spat blood on the cracked bricks between them.

  Fire froze in Arimand's veins as cold rage seeped through his limbs, returning their strength. He should run, lead the demon on a merry chase before he disappeared into a crowd and doubled back to the ship. But what of Sulard's sacrifice? Would he be trapped in his ruined body for all eternity? Arimand doubted damned souls could bleed to death.

  He was helplessly outmatched, yet he surged forward, darting between the demon's legs as he slashed its ankles. He had to do something, had to leave some mark on the thing which destroyed his friend.

  He shouldn't have survived the first volley. The demon's claws passed within inches of his body half a dozen times. But it seemed distracted, its efforts to ensnare him half-hearted. As Arimand desperately panted to catch his breath, the de
mon's horned head glanced over its shoulder in the direction Eselt had taken Kaylie. If it was looking for her, reaching the ship might not ensure her safety.

  How could he stop it? He would need to climb onto its back to put steel through its skull. The thought took root, refusing to let go.

  He moved before his rational half had time to reassert itself, darting around the demon's legs, driving his blade into the soft flesh of its calf. He seized a handful of scruffy black hair to lift himself.

  As the demon groped for him, Arimand jerked his blade free and drove it into the creature's thigh, scrambling for another handful of fur. He got his blade as high as the demon's lower back before a curved claw clipped his leg and knocked him off balance. He clutched his sword's hilt, hoping he'd driven it deep enough to hold. But the blade slid free, spilling him to the ground.

  Fists still glued to the hilt of his blade, Arimand scrambled back to his feet and skirted the edge of a mammoth tower. His arms shook and his knees wobbled. If he'd been any higher when the demon dislodged him, he might not have survived the fall. Now would be a good time to run.

  The demon's eyes met his and it snorted. Then it turned and bound into the city, leaping up the side of a building like a cat leaping into tree.

  It wasn't frightened. He couldn't have damaged a vital organ.

  That thing wanted Kaylie more than it wanted to kill him.

  Arimand relaxed his grip on his sword and returned it to its sheath. Then he bent double, gasping for several moments to catch his breath. Surely the others had reached the ship by now. He'd better not find those who had fled among them. There'd be no room for cowards when they reached the wall.

  He needed to get back. They needed to leave before the demon found their ship. The river was unlikely to protect them. They'd have to hope the demon focused on the city.

  Yet, he hesitated. Ignoring the ratio of crimson blood to black ichor splattered in the square, he approached Sulard's fallen body. If the man was still aware, still suffering, he had to help. Could he end his misery? If it were that simple, no soul would bother wandering Hell. He would carry him back to the ship, at least, where he could be among friends.

  Sulard lay still, no breath left in his body. His muscles were rigid, his skin ashen and rough as stone. Arimand reached down to check for a pulse, just in case. As his fingers brushed the cold figure, it shattered. A small blur of light rose from the broken remains, dissipating before Arimand was sure of what he saw.

  The remains of Sulard's body crumbled to dust. Arimand's gaze swept the courtyard. Other bodies dissolved, leaving only powder to mark their struggle. It seemed their damned bodies had limits after all.

  He abandoned the square and hurried down an empty street. He tried to ignore the pain behind his temples as he retraced their route to the ship. The demon could have done worse. At least the fall hadn't broken anything aside from his dignity.

  The river's oppressive heat guided his steps. Three streets away from the confrontation, the city dwellers went about their business as usual. A large crowd still milled at the edge of the docks, jostling for positions close to the ship. They pleaded with the men on deck, attempting to negotiate passage, screaming to be heard over their fellows, their voices a jumbled cacophony of nonsense.

  Arimand stood to one side, waving to catch the crew's attention. They lowered a plank in his direction and he sprinted to the top. Several would-be followers had to scramble off the plank as the crew withdrew it. A few ended up dangling from the edge of the docks.

  Kimuli nodded in his direction. “You look like you just clawed your way out of a pit.”

  As if awakened by his words, a dozen scratches and bruises made themselves known. Wincing, Arimand leaned against the deck rail. “I'm lucky to be in one piece. That damned demon was strong.”

  “Demon?” Kimuli's eyes bulged.

  “Didn't Eselt tell you?”

  Kimuli shook his head. “You're the first to return. We were starting to worry.”

  Arimand silently listed every curse he knew, though he didn't have breath to devote to them. “They should have returned by now. They were supposed to grab the water and come straight back.”

  “You fought a demon alone?” Kimuli's voice carried, catching the attention of several people below.

  Arimand drew him away from the edge of the deck. “I had help, but the demon killed most of my group. Those that didn't turn tail and run. Let the city keep them. They're no good to us.”

  “Sulard?” Kimuli hissed, eyes dark.

  Arimand hesitated, belatedly recalling Kimuli's protests when Eselt had chosen Sulard to accompany them into the city while demanding Kimuli remain behind. It was the first time he could recall the two men separating. “Dead,” he admitted.

  Kimuli's fists curled around the neck of Arimand's shirt. A sharp shake punctuated each of his words. “The hell do you mean dead?”

  Shoving his arms between Kimuli's, Arimand forced the man to release him. He stumbled back a step, catching himself on the doorframe that lead to the lower deck. “Just what I said. The demon mauled him. I went to check, to bring him back, but his body crumbled to dust. Some blue light floated out and disappeared. Maybe it was his soul. I don't know.”

  Kimuli's scarred face twisted. It looked like the man wanted to tear out Arimand's throat but he settled for clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. “You mean he's gone? Forever? Just poof, like he never was?”

  “I don't know.” Arimand held up both hands, palms facing outward. “I don't know how it works. I just know he's not with us anymore. I'm sorry. I know you were friends. But we have bigger problems to deal with right now. Lower the plank.”

  Kimuli's jaw worked as if he intended to tell Arimand off. Instead he spat, “What the hell for? Every time we extend that thing, we risk being overrun.”

  “Someone has to go find Kaylie.” There wasn't much point in continuing otherwise. “And as the only member of the crew who knows where to look, the honor is mine.”

  “A stiff wind would knock you off your feet.”

  “I'm aware. And if it weren't for Sulard, I wouldn't be standing at all. That demon is still in the city, looking for the same people we are. We've already wasted too much time.”

  “And what do you plan to do if you encounter it again? Who's gunna die to save your ass this time?”

  Arimand narrowed his eyes. “You volunteering?”

  “Not a chance.” Kimuli barked a laugh before he called over his shoulder, “Lower that plank, men. Arimand lost something in the city. Move fast.”

  Chapter Eleven: Twisted City

  As darkness consumed the city, the streets grew harder to navigate. Kaylie's sense of disorientation deepened with each corner they turned and crossroads they navigated.

  In all the chaos, their guide had managed to stay with them. Or she'd taken advantage of a quick sighting and rejoined the group as they slipped away from the madness. Iwora deflected Eselt's rumbled demands for information by assuring him this was the safest path back to their ship. She would accept the saving of her life, along with one of their stolen water skins, as payment for her assistance.

  Eselt said little in response. Without guidance, they'd be doomed to wander the streets aimlessly. But even with Iwora's help, they were lost. She could lead them deeper into the city and they'd never be able to tell. Shouldn't the river's brightness be visible between the great stone towers by now?

  “I hope you've come up with a way to break through the crowd,” Iwora sneered into the silence. “It's going to be as mad as that demon attack. I think I can hear the mob demanding passage downriver from here.”

  “Is that where you wanted to go?” Dwenba shot their guide a harsh glare. “We'd feel the heat on our faces by now if we were close to the river, child. What are you playing at?”

  Iwora laughed, a hollow sound. “How long have you been suffocating on that sweltering river? I thought you'd be grateful for a few minutes away.”


  Dwenba glanced at Eselt. “I saw a turning several streets back that looked brighter than these. Let's go back and take it.”

  “You could,” Iwora crossed her arms in front of her chest, “but it cuts through the territory of a dangerous gang. Given your recent acquisitions, I thought you'd rather avoid it.”

  “Mind you don't try to make a fool of me, child,” Dwenba hissed. “I've been in Hell long enough to recognize when someone's playing with me.”

  For a moment, their guide's face twisted, though with disappointment or rage, Kaylie couldn't tell. Iwora seemed wise enough not to respond. She helped them to retrace their steps a few streets and chose a new turning, though not the one Dwenba mentioned. They continued in silence.

  As night fell, torches flickered to life of their own accord. They hung beside the towers' gaping doors and flickered through the narrow windows. Lanterns loomed over the streets, but no light touched the shaded alleys. Kaylie kept her eyes carefully forward, trying to ignore the sounds drifting from those dark passages.

  “Why do you want to move down that godsforsaken river in the first place?” their guide asked when the silence grew too much for her.

  “Why should you care?” Dwenba countered. “You aren't interested in the journey.”

  “It's a thing of interest,” Iwora replied, a different quality to her voice. “Demons don't come into the city like that. You must have something they want.”

  A shiver ran up Kaylie's spine.

  “Are you even paying attention?” Dwenba snarled. “We should have taken that turning.” She whipped around, pointing at a corner they just passed. Several members of the surrounding crowd tripped over the group as they drew to a sudden halt and grumbled as they redirected their course.

  “How dare you question me! You come from downriver; I have spent a century mapping these streets, carving a realm of influence for myself. Do you think survival here is as easy and simple as it is in the wastes, where you can grow food and hunt for it?”

  Eselt set his hand on the hilt of his sword and leaned toward Dwenba. “I don't like this.”