Chapter 18: Chapter Eighteen

When Ita noticed they weren’t walking toward the gate, he first thought that the Demon Lord was making a mistake. But he said nothing, ‘He’ll correct it himself when he sees people going in and out the entrance, maybe it blends in too well, or since he rules over a mountain Kingdom, maybe they have no need of gates?’ Either seemed possible to Ita Mal, but with no clear answer, he waited for the demon to correct himself.

But that didn’t happen. Instead it became ever more obvious that Sadrahan was taking him toward the mountain. ‘He must think we live in those, like his kingdom’s people do.’ Ita realized, and so he began to think of how best to phrase his correction to avoid any suffering.

‘Look to the mountain. Hmpf. My ridiculous statement might have some use after all. From there I can see them brought up from the pit. But then, do I have enough food for them all?’ There was an unpleasant prospect. ‘How many are even down there?’ With no clear count, a pit of anxiety settled in his gut. “How many horses in your… place? And how many demons in your world gash?”

“Five hundred demons, not counting the ones who got out. One hundred horses.” Ita answered without hesitation.

“We will take your horses and carts then.” Sadrahan said, relief struck him at the number of horses, ‘That should feed them for the return trip as long as we ration the horsemeat, we should even have some left over that will help us manage while we build up around the mountain.’

‘Oh that clever bastard. By taking our horses, he knows we can’t chase him, and with no carts, we can’t ship anything back home, he’s sending a message to our King, there is no prosperity when you cross the Demon Lord… but he’s also not demanding more, showing that he’s civilized about trading… he wants to make sure we don’t think he’s a mindless brute.’ Ita felt that familiar reluctant acknowledgement of his captor’s exceeding capacity for forethought and planning, stab at his gut again.

It rubbed him the wrong way, it ran contrary to the priests teachings about the base, animal nature of demons, but his own father’s lessons loomed larger than the rite keepers, ‘Respect your enemy’s skills, or be undone by them.’ The old man’s words echoed in Ita Mal’s ears as if they walked together, though Ita reflected, ‘If he could see me now, he would be less than pleased. He’s not alone, ‘I’ am less than pleased. But at least I’ve gathered a great deal of information, that’s almost worth being captured. I never could have learned all this otherwise, a handful of demons, horses, and carts are worth that price. The loss of men is unfortunate, but even that taught us something about the Demon Lord’s mind.’

Sadrahan gave the settlement itself a wide berth, and thus far he seemed to have drawn no notice, or if he had, no suspicious notice. The people on the walls did nothing different and their gate didn’t open with riders coming out to meet him. “I’m going to carry you for this part. We’re going to the mountain.” He informed the human.

“Not to the gate?” Ita gasped and paled. His eyes went skyward, and a shudder ran through his bones. ‘If he drops me…’

“To let your archers shoot me and your riders charge me? No. I will be seen, but not reached.” Sadrahan protested with a grimace and a shake of his head.

“What do I have to do?” Ita asked with a gulp, struggling to swallow the dread in his throat.

“Not fall. Not struggle.” Sadrahan said, and then he moved behind where Ita stood, put his meaty arm around the human’s middle, and shot into the sky. ‘I still have to work out how to safely get their attention without getting too close… but I’ll worry about that when I’ve landed.’

Ita howled with sudden terror as the ground shrank beneath him, and that drew the attention of the walls.

‘He planned this.’ Ita cursed as his own distinctive voice and cry of terror drew the eyes of his comrades to the demon launching into the air. ‘He planned how to get their attention and avoid risk to himself…’ Ita began cursing his own foolishness as the demon made him do the work that might very well have prevented his own rescue.

Sadrahan soared through the air with the ease of any bird, his arm wrapped tight around the belly of his captive, the rope dangled loose from Ita’s throat and batted about like a cat’s tail against Ita’s legs while they closed on the small mountain.

Finding a place to land proved easier than Sadrahan hoped, a small outcrop of rock sticking up from below, put him well out of reach of humans and let him overlook the pit, and the whole ‘not settlement’. Stacks of corpses lay against a wall, most of them were blackened husks only identifiable as human by shape.

A string of tumbled, broken ruins remained where once proud buildings stood, far more than the few Sadrahan recalled setting on fire. ‘The fire must have spread quickly.’ The Demon Lord concluded, and there were still humans carrying burned and broken wood away from the wreckage that Sadrahan left in his wake. Tents toppled in the chaos were still ruined, and not a few bore holes and burn marks of their own.

The walls however, were manned and intact. Down below the gray stone outcropping where Sadrahan stood, lines formed of archers who nocked their arrows and leveled them in his direction, they had sullen, angry, and haggard faces, all of them. Dark circles beneath their eyes and despite his arrival, some yawned, and those bearing long spears held them lower than they should have as if just holding the weapons was tiring.

Sadrahan stood behind his hostage, claws around Ita Mal’s throat, fingers tapping over and over against the soft human jugular, and a low rumble came out of the demon lord’s throat that echoed a little in the pit, making it seem louder than it truly was.

The strange effect caused the humans to slide their feet slightly back, eyes darting to one another as if to confirm that nobody was moving farther away, and then they held position. “Speak, Ita.” Sadrahan commanded, and Ita shouted out, doing his best to keep his voice sounding dignified and fearless, he announced himself…

“I am Ita Mal, cousin of Lord Mal, second cousin of the King. The warriors sent with me are dead, and my life is offered in trade. I therefore call for the anointed commander of the Iron Fort of Kashasan to offer ransom! Our one hundred horses, all the carts we have, and all of our demons-”

“Except for the ones who sided with you. You can keep those.” Sadrahan’s echo over the gash in the ground was met with a mix of cries of joy and horror, though he kept his eyes mainly on the humans, he did give a glance down far below.

The demons left behind were stiff as the stones they carried, eyes skyward, their many eyes wide with disbelief as the unexpected occurred. Who were the lapdogs of the humans was immediately apparent as a half a dozen demons fell wailing to their knees and began clawing at their faces as they realized that the rescue was not for them. The wails and cries below filled the deep dig like water filled a bowl, keeping the human response silent while men in the metal chain shirts gave orders with hand gestures, snapping fingers and pointing their armed and armored men to and fro.

When the demons below fell silent at last, a figure standing a head taller than the others, broad shouldered with night black hair cut to shoulder length and put himself front and center between a double row of bow armed humans.

“You ask a high price, who are you to ask it?!” The human called out in a deep, rich baritone.

“Speak, Ita.” Sadrahan tightened his grip enough that a single drop of blood broke through the flesh and trickled like sweat down the side of Ita’s neck.

“He is the Demon Lord! He has the standing to negotiate a ransom!” Ita insisted, and the humans stiffened with such suddenness that their metal shirts rattled audibly, and down below, a wind-like gasp of shock came from the captive demons within the deep hole. “Now give him what he wants!” Ita commanded.

The silence hung in the air between the demon, his hostage, the host of the Iron Fort, and the captives far below. Sadrahan grasped for something to say to break the tension, and then he found it in the form of a memory from a haggling session with Midas the younger when the human merchant offered to accept a lower price, but would keep some of the rare fruits he was selling. “If I accept a lesser price, I will have to keep some of him back!” Sadrahan then put the claw of his thumb beside Ita’s right eyeball.

“Do it!” Ita shouted, “The others are dead and I’ve lost my hand, don’t make this worse!” In spite of his attempt to show courage, his body trembled while his people seemed to think it over.

“Makam!” Ita shouted, and the human to question Sadrahan seemingly had the wind knocked out of him.

“All the demons but the turnskins, our carts… horses… they’re yours. Just give him back!” Makam shouted.

“First bring them up and send them out!” Sadrahan commanded.

Makam, clearly did not like it. He put his hands on his hips and glared back at the demon, the tension holding, his archers pulled their bow strings a little more, the strain of a hundred wooden curves drawing just a little bit more was audible above and below.

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Sadrahan however, neither spoke nor moved, except for his claws around Ita Mal’s throat, which tapped in sequence one after the other, the threat of rending flesh held firm and fast. Sweat began to run down Ita’s forehead, his cheeks flushed red, a drop of salty liquid fear found the tiny wound on his throat, and he winced involuntarily at the sudden pain.

“Fine!” Makam shouted after the wince. “Bring them up, gather horses and carts… just do it! Quickly! Archers, relax your draw!”

The arrows were not put away, but the tension in the bows was gone as the pulls were gradually ended and the glinting metal points went from raised, to bowed in submission toward the ground.

Rope ladders were thrown down into the pits, and for minute after endless minute, the humans above could only hear the ominous noise of pulled ropes, an ethereal silence where humans would have begun shouting again all at once. One by one, the demons climbed up, the first to rise was a black skinned demon, an unfamiliar one to Sadrahan, bulky, despite his conditions, with batlike skin and face, and tan scars where his wings had been cut off and the flaps seared forever closed. His claw slammed into the stone as it crested the pit, and he pulled himself up with a grunt.

One after another, the demons rose out of the pit, and as the number above increased, the humans on the wall and the ground fidgeted, archers fingered their nocked arrows, spearmen tensed, relaxed, and shifted their grip on their leveled spears, eyes darting to and fro, looking to their comrades in search of their courage as the number of demons they were in reach of continued to increase.

The tension might have escalated to violence, except that the wagons began to arrive, the demons on ground level looked up to Sadrahan, “Get in the wagons and don’t move. Last space is for the driver.

“Open the gate, Makam! Open it!” Ita shouted, shifting on his feet was the breathless moment continued to unfold. ‘My first chance at glory… and this is how it ends… but if I turn the story well?’ He swallowed another lump in his throat while Makam’s gesture resulted in the gate being opened. Horses had their reins bound to the backs of wagons, and weary demons packed themselves in as tight as clumps of earth, the surface of every pale wooden wagon became invisible beneath the little seas of demons, and one by one each cart went out. “Each follow the lead until I join you!” Sadrahan shouted the command, and down in the pits below, there were screams of anguished frustration as those who joined with the humans tried to charge the ladder, scrambling up after the others.

The rope ladders swayed back and forth where they were secured, “Stay down!” A dozen voices went up from those who stood at the edge, and their brutal kicks came out, catching the last desperate climbers when their heads appeared.

‘That means something… for them all to say the same thing?’ Sadrahan wondered, but only watched as howling demons fell back into the pits, landing with hard and final thuds that were followed by silence.

When the last of the carts and the last of the horses were gone, the large Makam shouted, “Now what? You release him?”

‘Even without horses, they might come after us in force, I need… something.’ Sadrahan thought it over. “Block the gate!” Sadrahan shouted and pointed to the burned lumber, “Pile it all in front!”

‘That will do, a lucky break.’ Sadrahan thought with relief, and watched as Makam’s hand went out and pointed to a group of humans.

“Do it.” The human officer ordered, his glare never leaving Sadrahan.

‘That was why he burned the buildings… he planned to create a barrier for us… a deep thinker… he thought of many actions beyond one…’ Ita realized.

“And break your arrows, and your bows! I will not be shot while flying away! Break all of them! Then strip off all your clothes and armor!” Sadrahan improvised, the memory of the arrows bringing down the demons on the wing he tensed his hold on Ita’s throat and a savage growl bared hungry, sharp, predatory teeth.

“Are you trying to shame us?!” Makam roared in outrage at the demand to strip, his face flushed red with wrath, but it was Ita who saw the truth.

‘He extends mercy, there is no shame when all are shamed… I am naked, they are naked… so my noble dignity isn’t degraded. Is this a small favor to show he is civilized, to show respect from one royal to another? Or just a reward for cooperating to encourage it in the future? Or could he be so deep a thinker that he has multiple layers to all his thoughts?’ Ita wondered while he shouted, “Do it! We all stand the same!”

‘That might not be much, but at least if anyone ‘does’ chase us, they probably won’t do it naked, and every second counts.’ Sadrahan thought, and the bows and arrows began to crack as men broke them in two, then threw them to the ground in disgust before they started to pull off their metal shirts.

The undressing and destruction took time, as did piling the wood in front of the gate until it was thoroughly barricaded. Sadrahan looked out over the wall, watching the carts roll away.

“Anything else?!” Makam shouted, his face red as a demon’s own as he spat the question.

“Down in the pit, everyone! Ita will bring you back out when I am gone!” Sadrahan snapped the command, and this time, the humans didn’t wait. Makam, displeased as he was, only nodded.

‘Such caution… he does not want us to chase them… it will take forever for everyone to dress and climb out of there.’ Ita realized as the numbers began to descend the rope ladders.

Time stretched on until the last, Makam himself, descended into the pit.

“Now?” Ita asked, his heart stopped as he wondered, ‘Is this where it ends?’

Sadrahan nodded, put his arm around Ita Mal’s waist again, and jumped from the outcrop, his wings spread out, he soared gently over the pit full of humans until he reached the ground.

“I release you, but to buy more time…” Sadrahan said, and he grabbed Ita’s neck from behind, forced him down, and bound his good wrist and right ankle in a tight, sturdy farmer’s knot.

“Wha-” Ita wiggled on the ground, the numbness of his stump flared into sudden pain when it hit the ground, and Sadrahan rolled the human onto his back.

“Wiggle your way to a blade, cut the rope, make another ladder, and let your people back out.” Sadrahan explained, and then striding away, he walked to the edge of the pit and looked down at the humans while Ita wiggled in the dust.

“If we meet again, you will never leave the next pit I put you in.” Sadrahan snarled, his menacing deep voice echoing and washing over those down below, he raked his claw along the rope ladders, cutting them from their posts and letting it all slip down below with the humans. “Ita will let you out when he gets free. May we never meet again.” Sadrahan snarled down at the humans who could only stare up as he towered like a giant on the edge of the pit.

He then put his back to them, crouched, and launched himself into the air, catching the wind, and chasing down the wagons that were now well out of sight.

 

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