by Billy Wong
Late one morning as they neared a stream ahead and Sam and Vincent reached for their canteens, Drea whispered, "Look." They followed her gaze to a boulder on the gravelly near bank. A bipedal... thing stood past it, partially obscured. Dark, lanky and hunched but not short. From what they could see of it—haunches, part of its legs and back—it resembled a furless monkey the size of a man.
"A daimon?" Sam breathed.
"Indeed."
"Did it see us?"
The creature stepped backwards and faced them. "No, but it heard us." Seeing its face, it didn't resemble a monkey at all. Hell, it hardly qualified as having a face. Instead the front of its head was all mouth, a gaping circular maw lined with row after row of pointy teeth. Around its neck ran a ring of eyes, lidless, just orbs bulging forth from the skin like warts. Its hands ended in hooked claws from which what looked like smoke or vapor rose. Instead of a screech or roar like Sam expected, a low droning sound emitted from its throat as it shambled forward, awkward yet deceptively swift. Goosebumps rose all over her skin. She had never truly understood what abominations they shared the world with.
Vincent gulped. "What do we do..." Drea strode towards it. "Wait, what are you-"
Her falchion left the scabbard in a flash. The droning abruptly stopped, and the daimon's head and right arm fell off—a diagonal cut through its neck and shoulder. Yellow blood jetted into the air, then the body crumpled while Sam gaped. "What? Its kind is among the weakest of daimons," Drea explained coolly. "No problem for me to handle."
More droning drifted over from a copse of trees. A lot more. Sam watched six similar beings emerge, dozens of eyes twitching as they studied the group. "What about now?" Vincent asked.
Drea looked tense. "I think..."
A deafening bellow split the air, and thudding footsteps approached from beyond the trees. Moments later, a massive form lumbered into view. It towered over the other daimons, more than half again their height, and was as bulky as they were lean. Arms and legs like tree trunks, torso like a boulder. Its hide resembled rough-cut black stone, and Sam wasn't sure if the diagonal protrusions jutting from its head were horns or extensions of its skull. It had even less of a face than its smaller brethren, if such they were. Where its visage should have been, there instead seemed to be a void filled with angry red light.
Drea's jaw hung open, and her eyes were big as saucers. So even she doesn't know what to do... "What now?" Vincent asked.
The giant stomped towards them, an immense sword that looked made of rock or bone in one hand. Sam hadn't even registered it had a weapon, so mesmerized by its other characteristics. The smaller daimons bounded after it, the length of its strides alone making it cover distance fast.
"Run!" Drea finally said.
Vincent sounded lost. "Where?"
"Just go!"
Sam glanced around, saw the ridge they had descended minutes ago. "Back that way, so we'll have the higher ground." Not that high ground might be much help, but she'd take any advantage she could. She dragged Vincent after her for a few strides, then he found his wits and ran on his own with her.
Halfway up the slope, she realized she didn't hear or see Drea running with them. She looked back to see the tall girl engaging the daimons. Drea dodged a claw swipe from a small monster, kicked it back and slashed the eye ring of another. It reeled sideways, grasping at its neck. The large daimon fired a thick red beam from the well of light that was its countenance. Drea dove aside, severing the arm of a lesser daimon in mid leap, and the blast lanced through a tree behind her. At first it seemed there was no effect, like it had passed through the trunk without doing damage. Then, as if the bark and wood had aged years past death in an instant, it snapped. The big tree crashed down. "What was that?" Vincent asked.
"Life destruction," Drea answered, "magic that rends the very lifeforce of anything it touches!"
"And you're fighting it? Come on, flee with us!"
Dancing between the strikes of small daimons, she said, "No, you go ahead." Claws gashed her arm, making her grab it. She sagged as with weakness. "I'll catch up." The giant struck at her with an overhead chop she was forced to block, stumbling her back. It shot another ray, black this time, from its face. She dodged, and it went on to bore a neat hole clean through a boulder behind. "And there's the destructive force blast some of them have."
Sam tore her gaze from the impending tragedy and started up the slope again, trying to pull Vincent along. "You heard her."
He wouldn't move. "But I don't want to. I want to help."
She looked back, eyes moist at his show of courage. He wasn't even the fighter she was, yet would risk his life against daimons for a girl he'd only known for a few months. But she met his eyes and gently shook her head. "This is her choice. Don't disrespect her wish."
They sprinted up the ridge away from the battleground, thoughts of saving Eli as far away now as the ocean Drea might or might not have seen.
#
Drea parried a slash from the massive daimon, jumped aside from a punch and bisected a smaller daimon attempting to take her off guard her as she did. Red light flashed towards her face. She leaned back, the life destruction beam streaking overhead, and straightened to thrust at the onrushing giant. It stopped her point with the flat of its blade. They pulled back, threw themselves forward again so their weapons rang together in a deafening collision. A weak daimon tried to blindside her again. She hopped away from its claw swipe, realized it to be the one whose neck she'd slashed before. This time its head flew with a splash into the water.
The other lesser daimons hung back. "Humor me with some words," Drea said to the huge one while they stalked each other. "I know you can speak."
A deep voice floated from the void of its countenance. "So brave you are, to do such for your friends, and so skilled. I will remember you for a long time... though you be human, I regard you a worthy rival."
That was not bad, for a daimon. She flicked back her hair on the left side. "Does this change anything?"
The daimon's tone turned somber. "Then I will kill you."
So nothing changed. She grinned. "Try."
#
Sam ran down the field with Vincent at her side, both panting, no idea where they were going except away from that pack of monstrosities. Save Eli? What folly. They might not even save themselves long enough to get home, and they'd already lost Drea... crap. Drea had the map! She didn't mention it to Vincent. Their only priority now was to get far enough from the daimons that they'd forget about them, and then maybe... hopefully... find their way back to society.
From the trees in front of them to their right burst a daimon. One of the smaller ones, but terrible in its freakishness. "Where did it come from?" Vincent demanded, voice trembling on the verge of despair.
"It must have broken away from the others..."
"Do we run the other way? But that's-"
"No." Sam drew her axe. They could have fled in a different direction, that wouldn't take them back to the stream. But all of a sudden, she felt sick of running. "You were right, Vincent, and I was wrong. We shouldn't have left Drea." Her voice grew louder as she advanced on the daimon, her spirit seized with righteous fire. "If we can't stand firm against weaklings like this, or hold our ground even with the Duchess of Crushed Dreams at our side, who are we to challenge the Paladins or rescue Eli from them? I will not cower anymore! I will not flee! I will fight!"
She swept her axe at the daimon, a rancid scent from it assailing her nose. It jumped away, avoiding the blades before it struck back with its mist-enshrouded claws. They ripped her sleeve over her forearm, and she yelped. Had it torn her flesh too? No—she felt no pain, only the cool air on her skin and an odd numbness where it lay exposed. But seeing the speed of the creature, and that it wouldn't just stand there for her to hack down, her momentary surge of courage rapidly drained away. Her heart pounded, and she gripped her haft so tight her fingers hurt while sweat ran down the sides of her face. Shit shit shit..
. The daimon lunged.
Its claws scraped over Vincent's shield as he put it between them and her. "I have you, Sam! Let's do it!"
He thrust the mace into its sternum, pushing it back. She ran forward, swung at its head. It ducked and tried to slash her belly, making her backpedal. Vincent blocked its pursuit of her, warding multiple claw strikes with his shield. But then it grabbed the shield with both hands and wrenched it sideways. He stumbled, tangled his legs beneath himself and fell. Sam chopped down at its shoulder. It caught the axe just below the head, ripped it from her hands. No! It aimed a disemboweling stroke at her gut. She instinctively tried to suck it in...
Vincent's mace whipped up, just grazing its wrist, but enough to knock its claws off course. Sam plowed into it, grappling it, pinning one arm against its body while holding the other desperately out to the side. It struggled wildly, its wiry strength jerking her back and forth and letting her know she couldn't hold it for long. "Quickly, kill it! Kill it!"
Vincent bashed it in the back of the skull, freezing it in Sam's arms. He struck again, and it dropped to its knees. Sam let go, hurried to retrieve her axe. There was a squishing sound as the mace made contact a third time. The daimon flopped into the dust. Sam got there and raised her axe, but stopped realizing it was dead.
"You saved my life," she said, staring at Vincent.
"You saved mine too. If you hadn't been there when I tripped, I would..."
"You did better than me. Are you a more seasoned fighter than you let on?"
He denied it with a vigorous shake of the head. "It's the shield. Drea said it would come in handy."
"We have to go back for her," Sam said in a flat tone.
"What? But she's probably already dead."
"You didn't want to leave her, remember. So now we right that mistake by going back."
He shook his head again. "We could barely beat one small daimon. What can we do against five more and that big one?"
She bit her lip. "We have to hope Drea is still alive, and that our distraction can make enough of a difference. That's all." Vincent gave a resigned nod, and they jogged back the way they came."
#
Drea stood before the mighty daimon, breaths coming shallow and ragged. She couldn't hear it breathing, but it too had slowed, and she sensed the end drew near for one of them. Blood dripped from both their frames where they'd struck each other, hers red, its a black sludge to match its obsidian skin. She shivered from the numbness spreading from her wounds into the rest of her body. Cheap, irritating magic. "Come on then," she said. It barreled forward, knocked her back with a blocked slash and fired its black force ray. She hopped aside, but it continued shooting out instead of abating like before and swept sideways after her. She ducked, then leapt over it when it came back around low. It continued to whip around tearing up the landscape, carving trenches into the ground and felling more trees behind her while she dodged. Finally it stopped, and she dashed at the daimon. It cut a tall boulder horizontally in two, batted the top half at her with the flat of its blade. She cleaved apart the chunk of rock only to see her opponent following right after it, sword seeking her chest.
Fast, but not fast enough. "Gotcha," she said as she jumped high over its thrust. She spun sideways, her falchion doing a full rotation before careening down at its head. It raised its sword, but her blow sheared through it near the crossguard and into one of the hornlike skull protrusions. It ripped down through the spike, seeking its countenance. Her blade slowed. Before the daimon's existence ended, it flipped the broken hilt over in its hand. Too late, she saw a short blade spring out from the pommel as it came up towards her. Darn it.
Just as Drea's falchion breached the red glow of her foe's visage, searing pain exploded through her while the reversed hilt punched deep into her upper abdomen. She gritted her teeth against it and continued to force the blade down, powering it all the way through the daimon's face. It toppled, shaking the earth with its fall, then its head exploded into noxious smoke. She stood hunched over it, the hilt remaining impaled into her torso. Looking up at the three lesser daimons that still watched, she asked, "I don't suppose you'll let me go for a valiant effort, will you?" They closed in. "I thought not." Her vision blurred, and she smiled to herself. "At least those kids ran when I told them to. Otherwise, they'd both have died for nothing..." The daimons pounced at once at her bent, bleeding, transfixed form.
She spun out from between them, the nearest's claws glancing off her shoulder pauldron before she gutted it. The other two paused. One was the daimon whose arm she'd severed. Kind of interesting how it had lasted this long after being maimed early. They advanced on her. So persistent. She leaned gasping on her sword, waited for one to get in range. Almost... almost... boom. Her blade whipped up out of the dirt and split a skull in half. The last daimon, One-Arm, turned to flee. She almost considered letting it go for irony's sake, but no. She tugged at the hilt stuck in her. Sheesh, that hurt. But she dragged it from her innards, gore dripping onto her boots, and threw. Her enemy collapsed as the blade sprouted from its spine.
Drea coughed out dark blood. It looked like she was hurt pretty bad, not that the waves of pain shooting through her middle couldn't have told her that. Wait just a second. Hadn't there been six small daimons in the second bunch? She could only recall killing five. Then the kids... she limped for the slope she had seen them run up. She hoped the daimon unaccounted for had simply escaped, and not gone after them. But considering it had left before the battle with its allies was decided, probably no such luck. She needed to hurry, if Sam and Vincent weren't already dead.
She ascended the top of the ridge only to spot the two jogging towards her—the latter's mace dripping with daimon blood.
Well. It seemed she had underestimated them after all.
Chapter 4
Taking in Drea's awful wounds while she walked slowly towards them, Sam's stomach twisted with disgust and dread. The warrior bore long cuts on her arms, chest and side from blade and claws, the nastier ones gaping open to reveal raw crimson flesh, but the large puncture in her abdomen seemed a greater concern. Blood had poured out to soak her leather shirt and breeches below it, and continued to flow. She collapsed to her knees. Vincent ran forward, caught her as she fell back. "How is she?" Sam asked, fearing the answer.
Drea made some sound, unrecognizable from a distance. "She says she's fine," Vincent said.
Sam got there just in time to see her head loll to the side, eyes closed. Her chin was covered in blood from her mouth. "Fine? She's unconscious." Or worse.
"T-that's what she said." Vincent's voice shook. the poor boy clearly having no idea what to do. Neither did Sam, mind racing without direction. We need to save her, but how? Her wounds are too bad, no way she lives without a real healer. How can we even survive long enough to get to a city if there are more daimons about? Who will help us rescue Eli now?
She saw Drea's chest rise and fall, indicating she was alive for now at least. But another rivulet of blood escaped her lips. "I think she's dying..."
Her eyes widened when Drea opened her eyes and spoke. "I'm not dying. Just a bit tired to be responding to everything you say right now. You know, this might be a good time to use those injury treating skills I taught you."
Vincent laid Drea down on the bare dirt and Sam sat beside her to do what she could. She sew closed the deeper gashes, rubbed dressing on the shallow ones Drea said stitching wasn't necessary for. Then she swallowed as she got to the real wound. The bad one. It didn't seem so devastating at a glance, looking smaller than many of her cuts, but seeing how much blood had come from Drea's mouth she knew it'd gotten her good. Sam pictured the blade ripping through her insides, tearing vital tissues apart. Her hands trembled and tears ran down her cheeks as she fingered the edges of the hole. "What do I do... about this?"
"Are you crying over me? So overdramatic. Just close it up. I'll handle the rest."
Sam sealed it with needle and thread, head light and sniffing
all the while. She was convinced that strong Drea would die, that succumbing to such a dire injury was inevitable out here. "Y-you were incredible beating those six daimons," she said while she could, voice breaking.
Drea fixed her with an annoyed look then. "For the last time, stop treating me like I'm on my deathbed! I won't die. I've had worse than this."
She started. "Worse?"
"Yeah. I'm tougher than shit."
"Is shit tough?" Vincent asked.
Drea laughed, and Sam found herself doing the same. "It can be if you haven't been eating well."
He patted her shoulder. "You really are the great warrior you alluded to. My apologies for doubting you. Still not sure I believe you've seen the ocean, though."
Sam frowned. "She certainly is strong, but you were right too. She's just a human like us and now, she's terribly hurt. Sorry for dragging you out here, Drea, and causing this to happen to you."
"I don't fault you. I freely chose to volunteer my help."
"So what should we do now?"
Drea put the tip of her sheathed sword to the ground. With its aid she stood, making Sam and Vincent's jaws drop. How could she... Her face was ashen, but her voice steady as she said, "Now? We go on. I'll try not to slow you down too bad. If we catch up to the Paladins, though, you might actually have to contribute." She nodded towards Vincent's still-bloody mace. "I'm glad to see that you can."
"It was t-tough, but we managed," Vincent said.
"What if we encounter another of those big daimons?" Sam asked. "Not even you can defeat another in your state."
"We probably won't. Unless they're part of a war effort, those types are very territorial. There shouldn't be another for many leagues."