Chapter 39 – Catering

It had taken the party nearly four hours of hard riding to get through the thick of the corrupted treeline. The horses had left a trail of hoofprints in the ground, drawing a path from the mountains to the demonic city. Any tracker would have little trouble figuring out the route they took. Not that it mattered.

The closer they got, the more worked up Lord Hallen was getting.

“What are those?” he called, pointing at the black mass ahead.

Riding up to his side, Elson shouted over the clatter of hooves. “Those would be the walls, my lord! The ones that I told you of. I was indisposed for much of the battle. But I still saw the inferno. It was… Terrifying. And that stone swallowed it whole. All of it.” The lieutenant stared on, face pale. He reached inside his shirt as he rode, rubbing the gold-fused flesh hidden within. A faint wisp of steam wafted upwards.

“Swallowed, you say. How interesting… I wish to see these walls! Say, Aldous. How do you think they did it?” called the lord, looking back at his servant.

“Probably something barbaric,” muttered Aldous. “I, for one, firmly believe that whatever trickery or unholy magic is at work here is best left alone.”

“You know, that sounds like something a Solari would say.”

His servant said nothing to that.

“And besides, old man, you mean to tell me that barbarians built that?” he added.

Ahead, the dead trees were giving way. A clear view of the walls came into focus. And above them, a tower visible even from here.

That wasn’t what Hallen was referring to. It was what lay atop it.

At its apex, a horrific purple eye flared to life. The moment they crested the gently sloping terrain, it shifted. The pupil dilated, making eye contact directly with Lord Hector Hallen and his guards.

Several gasped, Elson glared, and Aldous nearly fell from his mount.

“It’s looking at me!” Hector shouted. “Right at me! And just look at the size of it! Bigger than a house!” He turned to his contingent, surprised that they weren’t similarly fascinated. Their faces were a sharp contrast to his own. A pale, horror-filled emotion sat on each.

“We aren’t alone, my lord,” said Elson, breaking the moment.

“Obviously. There’s an entire city—”

“No. Look.” The soldier nodded to their right.

Two bone-armored forms were visible several hundred paces distant. They made no move to get closer. Instead, they ran silently, orange eyes tracking them carefully.

“I told you. Just look at those hideous protrusions. Barbaric,” spoke Aldous.

“I disagree. Barbarians don’t use patrols,” countered Elson.

Hallen considered that. He looked at the creatures, before pulling on his reins. “Course change! Let’s go around.”

The column shifted west. For a moment, the two creatures fell behind. Then, without urgency, they adjusted. Matching the new heading exactly.

“They’re shifting too, my lord!”

Growling, Hector spat to the side, urging his horse faster. While he was excited to meet the creatures, he preferred doing it on his timetable. Not theirs.

“Again! More to the west! Let’s avoid an intercept!” Hallen called.

The pursuing creatures adjusted too, but this time less drastically. Red legs dashed over the orange sand. Despite their bulky forms, they moved like ghosts, flitting from corrupted tree to tree. For them to keep up with horses at a trot, especially in this terrain, spoke of hard conditioning.

Elson’s jaw tightened. “My lord. They aren’t trying to catch us. They’re keeping distance.”

“So? That’s good, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s what predators do. Stalking prey.”

Lord Hector Hallen was about to call for a sharp left on their course, when another guard spoke.

“And there, sir!”

To their left, another pair of patrols appeared, pushing closer.

“Maybe we should just turn around, my liege. Approach again at dawn?”

“Behind us!” hissed a soldier in the back of the column.

Turning his head, Hector spotted it too. Four forms trailed their horses. Each gripped a spear. Human-made, with iron heads.

“God save us. Just what have you dragged me into, my lord…” whimpered Aldous in distress.

Hector swore. “These creatures. They weren’t patrolling or stalking. They were herding. And we were the sheep.”

“But where to? The city?”

“No. To that,” said Hector, pointing one gloved finger straight ahead.

Just visible at the top of the next hellscape slope, a gathering waited. One they had no choice but to attend.

“What was the point of all this? To keep us away from the city?” asked Elson. “Tactically, those walls would be more threatening. I’d know.”

“To show us they could,” mused Lord Hallen. “To show us they could…”

***

Kairon deactivated Sovereign Eye, letting the purple sphere above the tower in the distance go dormant.

“Like sheep, they come. All of you! On your best behavior. I won’t tolerate any repeats of last time.”

He brushed claws down his scales, clearing any sand that ruined their polish. “Is that clear?”

“Yes master!” came a chorus of gathered warriors.

Satisfied, he turned, facing the oncoming party. His stern demeanor shifted into one of generosity.

I’m impressed those mounts can push so well through the hellscape. As he watched, each hoof sank into the sand, slowing their trot considerably. Still. For a horse, they were going quite slow. Evidence that strong or not, the beasts had their limits. A good thing too. It let our warriors keep up without too much challenge. That and Vorathrex’s training.

When they were five hundred paces distant, they tried to slow. To gently veer away. Kairon simply had the wrath imps close together, pushing his customers to the market. They obeyed.

Now for the carrot.

He waited until they were within a hundred paces, and then took three steps forward before slamming down his staff. Lifting his free arm, he waved cheerfully.

Uncertainly, the humans made to stop.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it’s taken without the author’s consent. Report it.

“Whoa, woah now!” shouted a few guards, yanking back on the reins and rearing up. The clattering of hooves dissipated as they finally managed to coax their steeds. They stayed grouped, subconsciously pressing closer together.

Seeing this, Kairon tried to defuse some of the tension. Some. Not all. A bit would be helpful.

“Please! Join us! We mean no harm, and would love to have open discussions.” He very specifically did not say they were free to leave. While Kairon didn’t really intend on violence, the unspoken nuances would do wonders at the negotiation table. He wanted to approach from a seat of power. A diplomatic seat, but still one of power.

The soldiers stared, taking in the full scene. Military eyes scanned the dozen bone-armored wrath imps at his rear, then the massive giant directly behind Kairon, and finally the pursuing warriors holding position at their back. Far enough not to scare, but close enough if need be.

Of all the glances, the ones in the direction of Vorathrex held the most hesitation. Even missing two arms, Kairon’s councilor of wrath made an imposing sight. His frame and muscles were relaxed, but his eyes spoke of violence. And the soldiers knew. One far more vividly than the rest.

Finally, when the demon judged the moment just right, he spoke.

“I am city lord Kairon. May I express just how happy I am to meet you all?” He smiled, pearl white fangs gleaming. “Please! Join me. We’ve prepared a neutral meeting area for both parties.”

He motioned to the logs serving as benches in front of him. Kairon had the imps prepare small greeting grounds of sorts. A small fire, five log benches, and some cleared space. Not exactly a proper embassy, but it would do.

The noble at the front dismounted.

“My lord! What are you doing?! We—”

He waved his guard away, muttering something behind his back Kairon couldn’t make out. Whatever it was, the guard’s eyes bulged, but he stilled. The rest of his party did the same—waiting, swaying on their horses.