(Six parts. 8500 words.)
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
One
Brogan had long ago grown tired of running. Yet, some infuriating instinct passed down through generations kept him from surrendering to exhaustion. Through forests and mountains, across grassless plains and vile swamps, Brogan fought to stay ahead of certain death. He slept with one eye open, fearful that each moment would be his last.
Impossibly, his hard-earned freedom had been stolen by a single man. A stubborn human warrior that he had assigned a most fitting name.
The Hunter.
Brogan wasn’t sure what had incited the Hunter’s bloodlust. He was sure that the Hunter could not be dissuaded, that he could not be outwitted, and that he would not be easily defeated. The Hunter cared not for treasures locked within crypts and castles, nor for preying upon the enticing monsters the other humans so adored.
For there was only one thing that would satisfy the Hunter.
As the years passed, Brogan had accepted the hard truth that the Hunter would never tire of chasing him. Equipped with a myriad of enchanted weapons and powerful spells, it was beyond foolish for the demon to stand and fight. Brogan’s best chance was to keep moving. Eventually, like all humans did, the Hunter would grow old and die.
At a muted sound, Brogan lifted his mouth from the icy river. Pointed ears rose from his angled head, seeking the source of the distant noise. His luminous eyes studied the opposite bank of the river. The pair of deer residing there a heartbeat before had fled. Meaning…
A gleaming arrow streaked by, passing inches from Brogan’s exposed neck.
The demon dove into the shallow river, narrowly avoiding the next magical missile. His body quickly adapted to the drastic change in temperature, allowing him to push off from the riverbed with his muscular hind legs and propel himself away from the Hunter.
As always, Brogan had anticipated the Hunter’s appearance, had been plotting his potential escape since sneaking down to the river to hydrate. Unfortunately, he could only stay in the water for a few moments. Ahead, the river increased its pace as it left the mountainous plateau and dove toward the human settlement below.
Brogan waited until the current was nearly unbearable, then powered himself through the water and emerged on the opposite side of the river. Glancing back, he saw the shadowy figure of the Hunter standing statuesque, his bearded face illuminated by the glow of yet another enhanced arrow.
The demon lowered his head to avoid the missile before racing toward the distant tree line. Fortunately, the Hunter was not amphibious. In the time it took the human to cross the frigid water, Brogan would disappear into the dense forest.
Using his copious experience, he would falsify his trail and, with any luck, send the Hunter in the opposite direction. Of course, the diversion would only be temporary. The Hunter had an annoying knack for picking up his scent.
Brogan screeched in surprise as he suddenly cratered to the ground. Twin hearts racing, he discovered a glowing coil of rope wrapped around his ankles. Breathing heavily, he began to saw at the magical binding with his claws.
The demon’s pace grew frantic as the Hunter forded the river. Growling, Brogan looked at the rope in disbelief and redirected his efforts into pulling it apart with his powerful legs. Where had the Hunter procured such a powerful rope?
Brogan cursed as the human emerged from the water a dozen paces away. The truth of his situation was evident – he wouldn’t be able to free himself. Even at full strength, he couldn’t face the Hunter head on without sustaining significant injury.
Thinking quickly, the demon decided to feign submission, to rake the Hunter’s eyes from his head once the man had lowered his guard in celebration.
Brogan’s eyes widened in shock as a sparking net encased his body. Denied of his last option, he growled, exposing rows of razor teeth in a rather meaningless warning, at the weathered figure of the Hunter above him.
To the demon’s surprise, the man sat down beside him. He smelled of sweat and fatigue. “The blood of a High Demon. Even one as powerful as you cannot escape such a spell, Brogan.”
Brogan sighed. Where had the Hunter acquired such a rare ingredient?
“No response? Do you not wish to know why I have chased you for so long? Do you not care to know how I was always able to track you?”
“Just kill me already,” Brogan replied casually. “I’m sure whatever I did to you and your family was terrible enough to earn your vengeance. Spare me the details.”
The Hunter chuckled. “You are mistaken. I do not seek vengeance. I am a mercenary.”
Brogan stared at the man for a long moment. “I was … to be captured alive?”
The demon’s hearts sunk when the human nodded. The endless chase. An inexhaustible supply of weapons and magic. The blood of a High Demon. It could mean only one thing.
“Please kill me,” Brogan said. “I will beg if I must.”
“No need. I’ve been told the ritual can’t be completed without you. It is rather impressive that you’ve managed to elude your fate this long. When this first started, I wasn’t even sure the Silver Demon actually existed.”
“You won’t have much time to enjoy the spoils when the rest of my kin are freed.”
The Hunter shrugged, retrieving another arrow from his quiver. “Not my concern.”
Brogan attempted to speak, only to find his mouth sealed.
The starlight revealed the man’s smirk. “I prefer to travel in silence.”
Two
Strapped atop the back of a rickety wagon, Brogan studied the sky. He had never properly valued the pleasing colors, the ever-shifting clouds, and methodical cycles of the sun and moon. Why had he not periodically paused his travels to appreciate perhaps the most endearing aspect of the Human Realm? The answer, in combination with a sudden jolt, snapped him from his trance.
The Hunter.
Brogan did not know where the infuriating human had found a wagon. It had certainly been summoned by another of his many spells. The demon had not bothered to struggle against his enchanted bonds as the Hunter loaded him into the wagon bed. It felt good to be off his perpetually aching feet. Of course, the circumstances left a bit to be desired.
Bored, the demon probed the magical gag with his forked tongue. He had yet to encounter the bitter taste of High Demon blood, meaning the spell could be broken. Or, unlike the ropes binding his ankles and the net hugging his scaled flesh, that the spell would eventually fade.
Brogan hoped they wouldn’t reach their destination while the gag remained; in order to ensure his survival, he needed time to convince the human of his grievous error.
The Hunter’s explanation for his lengthy pursuit had been logical enough. Well, logical from a demon’s perspective. The odds of a human with knowledge of Realms beyond their own – and especially of a sacred blood ritual – were rather low. Brogan wagered the human’s employer was a High Demon in disguise. That was the only logical explanation for where the human had acquired the priceless blood.
Unfortunately, the Hunter stayed true to his word. The human rode in silence. He camped in silence. He ate in silence. Brogan frowned in annoyance – if only the Hunter had killed him!
*
Four days later, Brogan noticed a solitary bird circling high above the wagon. It was difficult to place the species as the creature did not care to draw close, likely due to the imposing presence of the silent Hunter. At one point, the demon thought the bird gone for good and momentarily mourned the loss before realizing that following the wagon had to be a rather dull task indeed.
The creature’s return startled him.
“Hello,” the bird said as it landed on the wagon bed. Its voice resembled a human’s, yet its appearance was certainly that of a bird. Long black feathers and a sharp beak. Sharp talons and discerning eyes. Yes, this creature was certainly a bird.
Brogan attempted to reply through his gag.
“Allow me.” The bird hopped onto the demon’s chest and navigated to his head. It studied the spell for some time before finally pecking at a point near his ear. The gag fell away. “How is that?”
“Better,” Brogan said in a hushed tone.
“Where are you headed?” the bird asked.
“The Rift if I had to guess.”
The creature parted its beak in surprise. “No one should go there. It is an evil place.”
“It is not as if I’m going by choice.” Brogan used his long tongue to gesture at his enchanted bindings. “Made with the blood of a High Demon. No use trying to dispel them.”
“The blood … of a High Demon?”
“Yes. The most powerful of all demons.”
The bird shook with fear. “Why bring you to the Rift?”
“Once the Hunter claims his reward, they will use my blood to open it,” Brogan explained calmly. “I’m fairly certain that a High Demon gave the order to–”
The demon trailed off as the bird flew away. A heartbeat later, the wagon came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the latest dirt road. Brogan wondered where the bird had gone, if he would ever see it again. He had rather enjoyed its company.
It was a moment before the demon realized a conversation was taking place at the front of the wagon. He listened closely, twisting his ears in a variety of directions until he pinpointed the source. To his surprise, it was the Hunter. The man was clearly agitated. Brogan didn’t recognize the other voice. He wondered if there would be battle.
Eventually, the Hunter entered the demon’s limited range of vision. The man looked far more haggard in the light of day. The majority of his unruly hair and beard were gray. Inexplicably, the color had been drained from one of his dark eyes.
The Hunter observed Brogan with a deep frown. “He did say something about his kin being freed. I didn’t think much of it.”
“Didn’t think much of it!” the other voice shouted. “Did you never stop to consider what was on the other side of the Rift? Are you so easily blinded by gold?”
“Everyone knows what is the other side. The king has summoned his bannermen to defeat the demon army once and for all. He plans to face them head on.”
Brogan smiled as the owner of the second voice revealed itself. A human woman wearing a dark cloak and a pleasing face framed by darker hair. It was the eyes that gave her away.
“Hello, Bird,” the demon said.
The human woman ignored his greeting. “Brogan, please explain to our mutual friend the only place the king could have possibly gotten the blood of a High Demon.”
“Well he certainly didn’t go through the Rift and kill one,” the demon laughed. He quickly altered his tone based on the puzzled looks of the two humans. “It is highly likely that a High Demon has taken the place of your king.”
The Hunter turned his gaze from the woman to the demon and back again. At long last, he sighed. “Well that changes things…”
Three
Brogan counted the stars overhead. Well, at least he attempted to. He had no means to maintain a proper tally. Yet another freedom the Hunter had stolen from him.
The demon had decided that running was preferable to internment. Where his muscles had first enjoyed the lack of physical activity, they now seemed determined to decay. Again, Brogan wished the human would have slain him and prevented such nuanced torture.
Near sunset, the two humans drove the wagon off the main road – which was by no means a pleasant experience – and into a clearing deep within the woods. The silent Hunter likely expected they had a tail. It was a fair assumption. A High Demon would not trust a single, graying human with the capture of prey as important as Brogan.
Brogan considered the likely candidates as he listened to the humans bicker by their fire. Depending on the High Demon, there would be anywhere between two to seven demons keeping a distant eye on the proceedings. Those creatures had certainly been the culprits behind the formerly-impossible-to-explain knack of the Hunter to pick up his trail.
Of course, those demons were just doing the bidding of their master to maintain value, to support their bloodline and social status. There was no need to blame them for any of this. Brogan debated who would prevail in the ensuing clash.
The Hunter’s gruff voice interrupted Brogan’s musings. “Demon! We asked you a question!”
Brogan attempted to turn his head in their direction, only to be rebuffed by the enchanted net that constrained his slowly dying body. He turned his gaze back to the stars. “Do you believe that I was listening to your conversation?”
“What else would you be doing?” the Hunter snapped. “You literally can’t move.”
Brogan sighed. He didn’t need reminding.
Fortunately, Bird showed empathy. “Brogan, we asked you if there was any way to kill a High Demon? Neither of us is powerful enough to perform a banishing spell on such a foe.”
With his forked tongue, Brogan snatched a juicy mosquito from the humid air. He savored the taste before responding. “I would recommend the banishing spell.”
The Hunter cursed. “What did I tell you? Worthless!”
“Brogan, we do not have time nor the funds to recruit a wizard. The High Demon is aware of your capture. The clock is ticking.”
“Fine,” the demon relented. “But you cannot blame me if you die in the attempt.”
“Just tell us,” the Hunter demanded.
Seeking entertainment, Brogan was silent for some time in an effort to stoke the Hunter’s anger into a formidable blaze.
“You would need a sword blessed by the hand of the Divine,” the demon said at last. “Pretty rare I’d imagine. Fortunately, we do have a way to test any blade. If a sword can free these bindings, then it can kill a High Demon. I suppose that is a positive.”
The Hunter growled.
“Two problems,” Bird replied, her tone seeking to disarm the more volatile human. “Obviously finding such a blade on short notice. Then, perhaps more importantly–”
“I know where one is,” the Hunter interjected flatly. “Convincing its owners to part with it will not be an easy task. They have sworn an oath to defend it.”
Brogan imagined Bird’s ensuing glare.
“As I was saying,” the woman continued. “The second problem is that in order to wield such a sword without destroying yourself, you need at least some trace of royal blood.”
“You’re a princess or something, right?” the Hunter asked.
Brogan attempted to shake his head. “No. She is a bird.”
“Regardless. The High Demon will not allow me to approach the Rift,” Bird replied.
“Well, I’m not sacrificing myself. I’d rather get my gold and take my chances as originally planned.”
“You can’t be serious! The kingdom needs you!”
Suddenly, Brogan laughed, drawing the gaze of the two annoying humans. “Bird. Do you know if royal demon blood counts?”
*
There had been four demons trailing them. The Hunter had destroyed them with a rather impressive display of magical snares. Their pained cries had echoed throughout the vast forest.
However, it wasn’t their deaths that disappointed Brogan, it was their number. Squarely in the middle of his initial estimate, there was no surefire way to tell which High Demon had entered the Human Realm. Opening the Rift was a shared goal within the Demon Realm. Whoever finally accomplished the task would likely take the crown as Grand Demon.
Brogan managed to move past his disappointment. He did rather enjoy surprises after all. What better surprise than to greet a High Demon with a sword blessed by the Divine? Of course, there was much to figure out before that point. He wondered if the humans could stand each other long enough to see their task to completion.
The demon sighed as a bump in the trail nearly sent his withering body soaring through the air and back down whatever mountain the Hunter had decided to ascend. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the Hunter had strapped him to the bed with leather straps.
“How much longer?” Brogan asked.
Bird answered from her perch atop his narrowing shoulder. “The sacred site is just ahead.”
Brogan hummed, suddenly intrigued. “Let us hope the ground isn’t consecrated. Although, my death remains the easiest way out of this predicament.”
“I will not allow a High Demon to rule my kingdom,” Bird replied. “You will defeat it.”
“About that. I’m having second thoughts.”
“You want your freedom, do you not? Kill the High Demon and you will have it. Refuse and eventually you will be caught and this Realm will be destroyed.”
“The Hunter has grown old,” Brogan countered.
“There will always be other hunters. Do as I ask, and I will ensure that you have your freedom, so long as you don’t prey on my people. Isn’t that why you escaped from the Demon Realm in the first place?”
“More or less.” The demon sighed. “I was not keen to follow my predetermined fate.”
The black bird hung her head. “You and me both.”
*
The sacred site was unimpressive to say the least. Brogan had expected a great palace carved into the mountainside, or a colorful temple filled with sanctimonious monks. Instead, the demon was barely able to sense the blessing of the Divine at all. According to Bird, the site was nothing more than a rotting cabin of wood at the head of a dilapidated graveyard.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Brogan called.
In response, the wagon came to an abrupt halt. The Hunter appeared before the demon bearing a sadistic look, loosed the leather straps holding Brogan’s prone body in place, and pulled his decaying corpse halfway out of the wagon bed.
“Sit up,” the human demanded.
Brogan obeyed. Seated on the bed of the wagon, the demon observed the simple structure before him with an incredulous frown. “This was an option … the entire time? You realize that I can’t run while trapped by this spell.”
“Yes.” The Hunter chuckled as he marched toward the cabin.
Brogan narrowed his eyes and began an intricate study of their surroundings. Bird circled overhead, presumably on the lookout for further demon spies. The surrounding forest thinned as it drew near to the graveyard, as if the tree spirits feared what rested beneath the ground. Brogan couldn’t blame them; graveyards were always full of surprises.
The Hunter pounded on the door. “Lord Ang! Open up. It’s–”
A sudden wave of magic exploded from within the cabin, throwing the Hunter back. Brogan howled with laughter as the man landed beside the wagon with a defeated groan.
“Your friends don’t seem keen on visitors,” the demon mused. Brogan’s eyes widened as the walls of the cabin collapsed and a dozen soulless figures emerged from the rubble. “Ah. This is because you have poor taste in friends.”
“It appears their oaths still hold in death,” Bird remarked as she alighted upon the ground. The woman snatched the sheathed blade from beside Brogan and tossed it to the grumbling man who had managed to regain his feet.
The Hunter glanced back at Brogan in disgust. “I should have just killed you and bottled your blood.”
“It is not too late for that,” the demon grinned as the undead warriors charged.
Four
Brogan’s twin hearts filled with glee as he watched the Hunter and Bird battle the undead monks.
His sharp eyes tracked every movement with ease. The Hunter barely managing to fend off death with his rather flimsy sword. Bird shifting between forms to avoid blows before covertly counter-striking with a dagger. The undead warriors with their glowing eyes, sharpened weapons, and relentless resolve.
The smell of violence in the air was positively intoxicating.
Brogan wished he could join the battle himself. Almost. Instead, he decided to cheer. He debated whether to urge on his companions or to nudge them toward what would assuredly be a graphic end. Truth be told, the demon didn’t care. Either the humans would prevail and use the sword to free him from the accursed net … or he would be dead.
“Bird! There’s one behind you!” he shouted.
Bird shifted to her true form, a bladed staff slicing through the space she had previously occupied. On black wings, she soared into the sky, turned, and propelled herself like an arrow at her undead foe. Black blood oozed from the undead monk’s throat as it fell.
“On your left, Hunter!” the demon cried a moment later.
The Hunter turned and was nearly decapitated by a wicked axe.
“Your other left!”
“Shut up!” the volatile human roared as he cleaved off an undernourished arm, sending the aforementioned axe to the ground. Brogan’s eyes widened as the Hunter kicked the weaponless creature toward the wagon.
The demon attempted to move out of the way … only to be thwarted by the pesky net. Brogan hissed as the undead warrior collided with his own decaying body. The force of the blow flipped the wagon on its side, and the two creatures tumbled to the ground in a pile of mismatched limbs.
To Brogan’s delight, he discovered the net permitted him to roll and forced his reluctant body into action. Seconds later, he had successfully positioned himself atop his weaponless foe. Using his forked tongue, the demon triumphantly scooped out an eye and sampled the rotten delicacy.
Brogan had nearly pried the second glowing eye from his foe’s appalling face when he found himself rolled onto his back. There was a squeal as the lingering life left his undead opponent, then a steady stream of black blood dripping from the Hunter’s blade inches above him.
The thick blood of the undead monk turned to smoke as it came into contact with the net. Brogan narrowed his eyes as a rank stench filled the air. A stray drop of blood slipped through an opening in the net, fell into his half-open mouth, and slid down his throat, resulting in a fit of coughing.
“What have I done to deserve this?” the demon questioned as soon as he was able. “I was only trying to help you!”
The Hunter growled. “Is that what you call it?”
“What else would it be called?”
“Revenge.”
“Come on, Hunter,” Brogan groaned. “Revenge would be putting you in this net, strapping your body to the wagon bed and meandering across a kingdom while maintaining constant conversation. You would be fascinated at the way spirits of a forest such as this can–”
The Hunter hit Brogan with the hilt of his sword.
*
Brogan found himself seated against the side of the overturned wagon. His head ached from where the Hunter had knocked him unconscious. He could only hope that the man hadn’t permanently scarred him. What if the High Demon wasn’t able to recognize his long-awaited prize?
The two humans sat a few paces away, roasting a small rabbit over an oversized fire. The demon’s gaze settled on the blade buried in the ground between them. Where he had imagined a glowing sword with a razor edge, he instead found a chipped blade with a simple hilt.
Brogan shook his head in an attempt to clear his blurry vision, to better study the holy blade. When the weapon retained its decrepit appearance, he grinned.
“Are you sure that’s the sword?” he inquired. “Have you tried cutting the net yet?”
The Hunter rose and approached with a familiar sour expression upon his weathered face. “We will not free you until you answer our questions.”
“Fine … I wasn’t actually trying to help you during the battle.”
“I know,” the Hunter growled. “The princess has other concerns.”
Bird arrived with the ruined blade and flashed the demon a reassuring smile. “We need to understand why you have chosen to help us. Why, once you are freed, you won’t flee the battle to come.”
“If only I could flee,” Brogan sighed. “I’m afraid such a period of inactivity has robbed me of my stamina. The Hunter could easily capture me again in my current condition.”
Bird spoke before the seething Hunter could respond. “Please, Brogan. We need to be on the same page if we are to succeed.”
“So, if I answer your questions – you promise to free me of the net and the rope?”
Bird shook her head. “You must also answer truthfully.”
“Clever bird,” the demon mused. “I suppose I have little choice. Unless…” Brogan turned to the Hunter with hope in his luminous eyes. “Unless you have decided to kill me.”
The Hunter grumbled.
“Focus,” Bird commanded. “Both of you have stated that Brogan’s blood is needed to complete the ritual to open the Rift. What is so special about your blood?”
Brogan snatched a careless mosquito from the air and chewed on it in thought. “Negotiations have not been completed. For answering truthfully, I desire to ask questions of my own.”
“You have no room to negotiate, demon,” the Hunter snapped.
Bird glared at the man. “We will allow you two questions. Deal?”
Brogan nodded.
“First, tell us what is special about your blood.”
“I am the only demon who can traverse the Rift in its current state. In some distant past life, I originally opened it. The Demon Realm awaited my reincarnation for some time to get their claws on my blood.”
“Why did you leave your home?” Bird asked.
“Why else? The same ritual originally used to open the Rift, combined with most if not all of my life’s blood, will allow other demons to pass through. I convinced the High Demons that I was a willing sacrifice, then escaped through the Rift to avoid death.”
“And this ritual can be performed from either side of the Rift?”
“Obviously.”
“How did the High Demon enter the Human Realm?” the Hunter interjected.
Brogan smirked. “A summoning spell of course. I wonder who among your race is powerful enough to summon such a demon.”
“That’s one question,” the Hunter remarked.
The demon bared his teeth. “That was not one of my two questions. Bird!”
“It counts,” she replied.
“I thought we were friends…”
Bird shook her head.
“Fine,” Brogan relented. “Then answer my question.”
“The king is the only one powerful enough to summon a High Demon,” Bird said with a sigh. “Despite ample precaution, my father was unable to control it.”
A human father? Brogan resisted the urge to ask further questions of the bird. Summoning demons rarely worked out for humans. He wondered why they continued to try. Especially a king. Oh well. The decisions of humans rarely made sense.
“If we were to kill you and deny the High Demon your blood, would the reincarnation process simply start over?”
“Yes. Only this time, I doubt they would allow the tribute to escape.”
“Do have any further ambition beyond killing the High Demon?”
Brogan shook his head. “I plan on living as I did before the Hunter began his pursuit. If you recall, I roamed this Realm for centuries without incident.”
“Swear it.”
The humans had overlooked the fact that a demon’s word meant nothing. However, to earn his freedom, Brogan would appease them. “I vow to not run once freed by the holy sword, to attempt to slay the yet-to-be-identified High Demon, and, if successful, to disappear afterward. Happy, Bird?”
Bird smiled. “You may ask your remaining question.”
“You told me you had a destiny as well. What was it?”
The smile fled Bird’s face. She was silent a long moment. The Hunter lowered his flask and stared at her with his hard eyes.
“When I was born, the Divine foretold that I would have a chance to close the Rift.” She paused. “If I fail … the Human Realm will come to an end.”
Brogan’s eyes widened in surprise. Why would the Divine place such an important fate upon a bird?
The Hunter stood and began to walk away. “I’m out. This is not worth dying for.”
“Don’t you want your gold?” Bird asked. “I’ll double the High Demon’s offer.”
Turning back, the Hunter sighed. “Double, you say?”
Five
Brogan reclined in the uncomfortable wagon bed, mercifully free of his bindings. He had started the descent from the sacred site by jogging alongside the rickety contraption, eager to test his newly liberated limbs. However, he had quickly given in to exhaustion and reclaimed his vacant throne.
His fledgling muscles had yet to cease their agonizing screams.
“To believe I used to run for days without end. I once ran across an entire kingdom without stopping to escape the Hunter,” the demon groaned, massaging the giant bruise that marred his once-perfect face. “I am afraid I will never be able to regain my peak form.”
Bird chuckled from her place beside him. She had summoned a supply bag from thin air and been searching through it for what seemed hours. Brogan suspected the seemingly finite depths of the object were misleading.
“You weren’t even imprisoned a week,” she said presently. “When I was a girl, my father would throw men to the dungeon for months at a time. You’ll be fine.”
“Did he ever throw a demon in jail?” Brogan countered.
“No. Demons are burned at the stake.”
Brogan hummed as he envisioned his death. “I’m guessing it is too late to set me aflame?”
“You swore an oath to help us.”
“True.” Sighing, the demon turned his gaze to the cloudy sky overhead. The smell of rain was thick in the mountain air. While on the run, he had grown quite fond of the rain. It had a welcome tendency to obscure his trail and erase his scent.
Silence overtook the three travelers. Tired of waiting on the storm, Brogan took it upon himself to examine the holy blade. Up close, it appeared impossibly fragile. He thought it likely that a single blow against even poorly made armor would shatter it. He debated whether to warn the two humans but found himself drifting off to sleep instead.
What seemed seconds later, Brogan’s eyes opened as Bird shouted in excitement. The demon studied his companion for a long moment, attempting to determine the nature of her abrupt exclamation. Eventually, his keen eyes settled on the small glass bottle in her hands.
“Is that what you’ve been looking for all this time?” he asked, somewhat curious. “A bottle?”
“A vial,” Bird corrected as the rain finally arrived.
A sudden bump in the road sent the vial soaring into the swirling winds. Brogan deftly snatched the object out of midair with his forked tongue and returned it to his companion.
“It’s empty,” he remarked as she cleaned it upon her cloak.
“Not for long. I will use it to store your blood.” She silenced him with a raised finger. “I will need it to close the Rift while you two distract the High Demon.”
“A marvelous plan. Where did you learn the ritual to close the Rift?”
“I haven’t yet,” Bird replied, resuming her search within the bottomless bag. “You will teach me the ritual used to open the Rift, and I will derive the inverse.”
“Then I revise my assessment. This is a poor plan. Performing an untested ritual with the fate of the Human Realm at stake is madness.”
Bird narrowed her eyes in an amusing effort to augment her serious tone. “It is our only chance.”
“For a bird, you seem to care an awful lot about the humans.”
“That’s because I am not a bird, Brogan,” Bird replied flatly. She redirected her focus from the bottle to the demon and raised her brow. “You seriously thought I was a bird?”
“I was starting to suspect my mistake,” Brogan admitted. “However, who am I to question the Divine for bestowing such an important fate upon a bird? It is entirely possible that the Divine has lost fate in you humans.”
“And your fate, Brogan? Has the Divine not also chosen to trust you?”
“Of course not. Demons don’t care about the Divine. Demons worship High Demons.”
Bird grinned. “Meaning you have sworn to kill one of your gods.”
Brogan scratched his scaly jaw in thought, then turned and tapped the silent Hunter on the shoulder. “I’m starting to think you may have had a point…”
*
After the storm passed, Brogan stretched his depleted body in a field.
The Hunter had deemed it necessary to practice with the holy sword before they reached the Rift. As Brogan had never fought with a blade, it seemed a valid concern. The blood-letting had left him rather light-headed, but he had decided to persevere.
Unfortunately, the sword had no name. The development disheartened the demon. Weapons blessed by the Divine deserved a proper name. How else were they to be feared within the Demon Realm? He decided to gift the weapon a fitting name before reaching the Rift … if either party managed to survive that long.
“How does it feel?” the Hunter asked upon his approach.
Brogan reclaimed the sword and pointed it at the human. “Did you know if a demon is killed with such a sword, it is believed that their soul does not reincarnate? I wonder if it’s the same for humans…”
“Really?” The Hunter knocked the blade from Brogan’s hand with an unexpected strike. “You were supposed to be practicing.”
The demon shrugged as he retrieved the holy sword. “I’ve never had much need for weaponry. Claws and teeth are far superior.”
“Speaking of,” the Hunter mused. “Your claws are a problem. They’re prohibiting you from maintaining a proper grip. We’re going to have to cut them.”
Appalled, Brogan glared at the graying human. “You will have to knock me out again…” The demon lunged forward, holy blade arching high in the air. “… if you can!”
The Hunter stepped to the side and easily parried the strike.
The holy blade shattered.
Brogan stared at the hilt in his hand before bursting into laughter. “I knew we had the wrong one! I will run back up to the graveyard and retrieve the real sword.”
“It passed your test, demon,” the Hunter growled. “It cut the net.”
“Oh … right,” Brogan managed. He sat on the ground, retrieved the pieces of the blade from the wet grass, and arranged them in the proper shape. “Everything is in place. We just need to find a human weapon-maker and have it restored! It will be better than ever!”
The Hunter shook his head. “The blade cannot be reforged without losing the blessing of the Divine. Without the blessing, we cannot defeat the High Demon.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“The same way I knew where the blade was in the first place.”
The demon looked up at the haggard human. “That isn’t an answer.”
“I was raised in the monastery.”
“You’ve lost me, Hunter. When have we been to a monastery?”
The Hunter stared at Brogan, anger boiling behind his eyes.
“Wait. That was a monastery? Those were actually your friends?” The demon stifled an untimely yawn. “I can see why you left. What a dreary fate.”
The Hunter made no reply as Bird approached with a book in hand. The woman eyed the pieces of the broken blade, then scowled. “What have you done?”
Brogan chuckled. “Apparently, I have doomed us all.”
Bird turned to the Hunter, seeking an actual explanation.
“Don’t bother. It can’t be fixed,” Brogan responded preemptively.
To the demon’s surprise, the Hunter smiled. “But it can be repurposed.”
Six
Once again, Brogan was confined by a net.
This net was much worse.
The Hunter had taken great care in constructing his latest instrument of torture. Material made of prickly boar hair. Holes so small to give even the swarming gnats pause. And, of course, an abhorrent amount of High Demon blood.
Unfortunately, the repugnant ingredient was required for the daring plan constructed by the demon’s two human companions. Admittedly, their ingenuity impressed him. Not even a High Demon would suspect an attack from a creature confined by such a damning net.
Brogan inwardly grumbled, attempting to ignore the lingering ache of his repurposed claws. He still wasn’t sure what had come over him. Declawing was a punishment reserved for only the most heinous of acts. Allowing Bird to insert the fragments of the holy blade in their place and bind them to his being with blood magic had been insanity.
Yet … the two humans had managed to turn his left hand into an effective weapon to use against the High Demon. A weapon that was far easier to wield than a sword.
The humans believed they had convinced him of the necessity by evoking his meaningless oath. It was simpler to allow them to think such things. There was only one reason Brogan had willingly invited such traumatic harm upon his once-again-decaying body.
Freedom.
Only in captivity had the demon realized the truth. He didn’t want to die – at the hands of the Hunter, the High Demon, or anyone else for that matter. He wanted to live, to lead his own life. That was the reason he had escaped the Demon Realm in the first place.
Flexing his repurposed claws, Brogan begrudgingly studied the sky above as the wagon continued on its way. He had gotten over his initial fascination with the alleged home of the Divine. The sun rose, crossed the sky, then set. The moon was no different, shifting its form over time in an attempt to add variety. It was an uninteresting cycle; one that was never broken.
Brogan’s eyes tracked the demons riding the winds above them. The unorthodox group had picked up the new tail a day before, just after joining the wide road leading to the Rift. The Hunter had anticipated such a development and interned Brogan long before it was necessary.
The demon resisted the urge to break free of the uncomfortable net. Such an action would certainly alert the High Demon to their plan. Yet, without freedom of movement, his body continued to wither away. Soon, he would be nothing more than dust upon the humid winds.
It was only Bird’s promise of freedom that kept Brogan from revealing the charade, from fleeing to the distant ends of the Human Realm. With his repurposed claws, there was no spell, not even one using High Demon blood, that could hold him.
Brogan sighed. Had he actually decided to honor his oath? The words of a demon meant nothing!
His thoughts turned to Bird. The human woman had flown away shortly after he taught her the ritual. Fortunately, she had seen reason and allowed him his final agreed-upon question. It had taken her hours to explain why the humans believed it best to open the Rift and face the army waiting on the other side. As ever, their logic was baffling.
Her absence had left only one remaining source of entertainment available. Conversation.
Brogan could smell the Hunter from his perch at the front of the wagon. He had yet to try breaking the human’s silence, knowing he would have only one chance. The memory of the gag was a strong deterrent and not worth losing the ability to hunt bugs with his tongue.
Eventually, Brogan gave into temptation.
“How much longer?” he asked.
The Hunter didn’t respond.
“My claws have yet to stop hurting. Perhaps we should check for infection.”
Still nothing.
Brogan frowned. “I would like to stretch before the ambush. Cramps are very unpredictable. What would Bird think if your negligence caused us to fail?”
At last, the Hunter spoke. “It’s barely been three days.”
“You’re not considering all those days that came before. Inactivity is a plague upon both the mind and body, Hunter! What if I forget the plan?”
“All you have to do is cut the net and drive your claws into the High Demon’s heart.”
“Have you considered the possibility that my claws will further fracture? What if the net doesn’t break?”
“Have you forgotten that we repeatedly tested your claws against both blade and armor? That you tore the previous net to shreds in a fit of rage?”
“I’m afraid not. You see, my mind is already failing!”
The Hunter growled.
“Fine. I do remember,” Brogan sighed, desperate for interaction. “Perhaps you would like to talk more about your days at the monastery. You have yet to tell me why you left. Did you decide to hunt down whatever monster orphaned you? Perhaps you left to find love?”
“Did I tell you that I made a gag using what was left of the High Demon blood?”
Brogan narrowed his luminous eyes and was silent.
*
The next day, Brogan sensed the presence of the Rift.
The surrounding land imitated the Hunter’s annoying demeanor. Non-domesticated animals gave the poisoned site a wide berth. Unable to flee, every remaining plant bent in the direction from which the travelers had come. Only the demons overhead and the swarming bugs remained.
Soon came the sounds of men. Many men. Perhaps more than Brogan had ever seen gathered outside a city at one time. However, such speculation was impossible to confirm without a definitive count.
Resisting the urge to sit up and tally them, Brogan worked to estimate their number as the Hunter drove the wagon through the noisy encampment. Ultimately, he guessed there were at least a thousand soldiers – not that it mattered. If the Rift was opened, a hundred thousand demons would storm through and annihilate them all.
Chewing on a succulent blood-fly, Brogan wondered if that was the preferable option. It was a rather selfish thing he had done. The Demon Realm was chaotic and unpredictable, a world full of fire, endless volcanic quakes, and destructive storms. He had been chosen to free his people from their prison. Instead, he had chosen to value himself above his entire species.
Brogan frowned as he revisited the rationale behind his flight from the Demon Realm. Why should he be sacrificed when everyone else would enjoy the rewards? To think that the High Demons had believed his willingness to accept such a bleak destiny – the word of a demon meant nothing!
Except, perhaps, the oath he had sworn to the two humans. Brogan flexed his repurposed claws, suddenly realizing that he trusted them to keep their word. Demons trusting humans. Humans trusting demons. When had life become so complicated?
Thankfully, a stern voice derailed Brogan’s existential train of thought.
“Halt!”
The Hunter obliged, bringing the wagon to a jarring stop. “The king is expecting me. I am to deliver the prize directly to the ritual site.”
“And I am to confirm its identity.”
“Fine. Watch its tongue.”
For the sake of authenticity, Brogan snarled as a pair of human eyes appeared over the side of the wagon. The man lifted the itchy net and leaned forward to examine him, then shouted in alarm as Brogan’s tongue struck his hooked nose.
“That’s the Silver Demon alright,” the other man hissed, retreating from the demon’s constrained field of vision. “Go on through.”
As the wagon started moving again, a horn blared throughout the war camp, signaling the soldiers to ready themselves for battle. Brogan envied their freedom of movement. The sound of boots marching upon the ground threatened to overwhelm him.
It was only the sight of a black bird flying high above that maintained his focus. If he held on a little while longer, he could roam the enormous Human Realm for the rest of his natural life.
Well … that or he would fail and die. He wondered if the Human Realm would truly be destroyed if the worst were to occur. Either way, the harrowing situation he had found himself in would soon be resolved.
Brogan growled at his recurring indifference. He wanted to live!
The air grew toxic as the Rift neared. Crimson light distorted the mundane sky and unsourced thunder rumbled in the distance. Brogan spit out his latest catch upon discovering its sour taste. It seemed he would face the High Demon on an empty stomach.
On a well-worn path, the wagon descended toward the Rift. The magic anomaly had sunken the surrounding area, resulting in a crater-like appearance. The land encircling the Rift was beyond lifeless, a close approximation to the Demon Realm.
As the wagon groaned in protest, Brogan searched the sky for Bird. The Hunter’s noisy arrival had provided her ample opportunity to get into position unnoticed. Once the High Demon and Brogan exchanged pleasantries, she would have her opportunity to seal the Rift forever.
Brogan didn’t bother to struggle as a group of indistinguishable humans arrived and pulled his weakened body from the bed of the wagon. The group ascended to an extravagant dais where the High Demon, in human form, had nearly completed the ritual. After a brief exchange of words, the Hunter strode by carrying a heavy bag of gold.
Brogan resisted the urge to bid his companion farewell.
A moment later, the demon found himself lying flat atop an altar of smooth stone. Brogan began to fidget against his bindings to evade the harsh glare of the midday sun. Fortunately, the figure of the High Demon promptly provided ample shade.
“Brogan,” the High Demon said flatly. “It has been quite some time.”
Brogan smiled. “Ko! I should have guessed the other High Demons would force this menial task upon you. How did it feel to be summoned? I’ve always wondered what it would be like.”
“I see you haven’t changed.”
“Actually, I’ve changed quite a bit. You see, I’ve decided to embrace my destiny.”
Ko pursed his lips, considering whether to extend their conversation. “Why?”
“I got tired of running,” Brogan admitted. “I allowed myself to be captured. Imagine my surprise upon discovering my bindings were infused with the blood of a High Demon!”
Predictably, Ko was not amused. Without further comment, the High Demon walked to the edge of the dais and turned toward the distant human army.
Ko’s voice echoed across the barren land. “With this knife, I will draw the blood required to end the greatest threat to the Human Realm. We cannot wait for the day the Rift opens and the demons attack, we must take action now. We will defeat what comes through in order to ensure the safety of the human race for all of eternity!”
Brogan freed himself in the midst the High Demon’s long-winded speech. During the ensuing roar, he stretched his aching limbs and studied the human army.
There were far more of them than he had guessed – easily ten thousand. They had arranged themselves a few hundred yards away on the northern edge of the crater in a line of glimmering shields and pikes, ready to repel a charge. Brogan wondered why they had not surrounded the battlefield. Then again, this was the same species that had been talked into opening a portal between Realms.
As soon as Ko turned, Brogan drove his repurposed claws into the heart of the High Demon. “Surprise!”
Ko observed him in muted shock as blood poured from his chest, then fell to his knees. “What … have you done? You’ve doomed your own people!”
“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Brogan mused, examining his bloody claws in the sunlight. To his delight, they had worked remarkably well. When Ko didn’t respond, Brogan bent down and confirmed that the High Demon had perished.
“A shame you don’t have multiple hearts in this form,” the demon lamented. “I would have enjoyed cutting you into pieces to find them.”
Only then did Brogan realize he had drawn the attention of the human soldiers. From their ill-advised defensive position, they observed him with wide eyes and jaws agape.
“He killed the king!” one shouted impossibly loud. “After him!”
With a sigh, Brogan turned and ran toward the Rift.
Moments later, he fell to the ground in exhaustion. The Rift, now just a pace away, seemed to siphon the life from the air. Even for a demon, it was hard to breathe.
Brogan raised his head and found Bird before him. “How is the ritual coming?”
The human woman was drenched in sweat. Both of her hands glowed with the haunting light of blood magic, and her skin had lost its color. She looked older than Brogan remembered. Truth be told, she appeared rather frightening.
“Nearly done.”
“Good,” Brogan remarked through deep breaths. “So … the humans … think I killed their king. Perhaps we should have anticipated their desire for revenge.”
“And you brought them here?” Bird growled, her hands blurring as the spell reached its climax.
Brogan turned to observe the charging mob who had just passed the altar. “Perhaps I should have led them away from the Rift. I wasn’t really thinking about that. You see, I can barely move with my decaying body. All this traveling by net–”
“Brogan! Lead them away!”
The demon rose to his aching feet and hung his head. “I’m sorry, Bird. I hope this decision won’t harm our friendship. I was hoping to see your castle someday.”
“Brogan!”
Brogan turned to face the charging army. “I will keep my word, Bird. Make sure the Rift is closed.”
With that, he valiantly raced forward to meet his certain demise.
Suddenly, a flaming wagon streaked through the approaching mass of humans. The cries of a hundred different monsters filled the poisoned air, forcing human hands to human ears. Even the bravest of soldiers slowed as the wagon erupted in green flames. The ensuing explosion brought the however-many-thousand humans to a complete stop.
It was an impressive showing to say the least. A demonstration that could only mean one thing.
“You came back for me!” Brogan exclaimed as the Hunter emerged from the unnatural smoke on his horse.
“Not for you,” the Hunter said sourly. “Leave, or I will be forced to kill you.”
“Will I ever see you again?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“There will certainly be a new contract, a greater reward.”
The Hunter scratched his graying beard. “If I run out of gold, you’ll be the first to know.”
After a heartfelt wave of his repurposed claws, Brogan fled.
*
The demon turned back at the edge of the crater and watched the Rift close, hoping to see his companions a final time. To his surprise, he discovered the human army had managed to recover their wits and were once again charging toward him.
An arrow hissed past, inches from his exposed neck. A second sunk into the ground at his feet.
He wondered how long the humans would give chase, how long his diminished body would survive under such strain. A part of him wished the Hunter would join them.
Grinning, Brogan began to run.