B4 – Chapter 3: Accosted and assaulted

The day passed onward as Tristan followed Felicity’s clear instructions. The main road went far into the hills surrounding the capital, and pausing at the top of one such hill, he looked back to the massive, fortified city on the horizon, taking particular note of the raised, inner city and the huge, black and silver spire that thrust into the sky. The central castle. Again, he was struck by how it was a splitting image of Bhant’s Holdfast, and for a moment he felt a sense of longing for the homeland he was raised in.

But that feeling quickly faded as he turned away from the horizon and kept going west. The Demon Realm was very orderly and organized. Every twenty-five miles he came upon a walled campsite. Only ten-foot-high walls, but with black spikes pointing down and out to prevent easy assault, and with a massive pair of red, wooden doors. As the fingers of night rose into the sky, he arrived at one such location, approached the doors, and pushed – hard – as he applied pressure on a vertical handle.

The doors swung inward, and he spotted a placard on the wall inside the walled courtyard:

If making use of this caravanserai, close the gates upon leaving. Clean up after yourself.

Closing the doors behind him, the wooden latch clacked back into place. Taking a quick walk around as Felicity flew the perimeter, he observed the walls were covered with thousands of messages; proclamations of freedom, of regret, sorrow, and triumph. A small well, covered with a wooden lid with an attached wooden bucket and rope, was in the center of the temporary sanctuary. “Seems safe enough. Tent, please,” Tristan said to his companion.

Felicity shifted to her Elfanoid form, before shifting once more to her Demonkin form. She reached into the storage dimension and pulled out the tent. Tristan helped her set it up in a corner – so that at least one side and the back would be sealed off from possible intruders and prevent less angles of attack. “I’m keeping night watch?” she asked to confirm their earlier plan.

“Yeah,” Tristan replied as he finished hammering a stake into the packed dirt. Looping a rope around the metal stake, he pulled it tight to make the tent interior a bit more spacious. “Then you can sleep on my head during the day.”

Felicity sighed, “No snuggling? No sleeping together?” She deflated slightly but nodded her head. “Yeah, no, it’s a smart plan. Just not a fun one.”

Tristan stood up, brushed his hands off, gave her a kiss, and then hauled his bedroll into the tent. He grabbed a clearcool elixir from Felicity’s storage dimension and chugged it down. The cooling, refreshing flavor filled his stomach with ease, and both his food and water needs were sated for an entire day. “Well, I’m off to sleep.”

“Nighty night.”

Tristan was woken up by Felicity nudging him, “Hey!” she whispered right in his ear. “We have company!”

Tristan roused immediately and had Felicity help him put on his armor as his keen sense of hearing picked up the sound of the wooden doors opening. “Felicity, spell.”

She quickly incanted the complex spell and moved her hands in the gesture for Alter Form. Tristan felt the now-familiar tingling over his body as his physical form was ever-so-slightly shifted to that of a Demonkin. Opening the tent flap, he peered out through the darkness.

A group of haggard looking Demonkin dressed in patchwork leathers and carrying supply packs entered the confines of the caravanserai. Six in total. One of them turned to shut the gates, and the others clustered together as they made their way to the well in the center of the space. Two held lanterns that projected light in all directions – leaving Tristan’s small tent in the shadows. Can Demonkin not see in the dark? I thought they could, Tristan thought.

Felicity poked her head out – her form completely invisible and her movements unable to be heard thanks to the fairy dragon’s innate ability to conceal themselves from those without Elf heritage. “Oh, they look like they had some rough travel.”

“Get the tents set up,” one of the Demonkin said as he began to draw water from the well and drank straight from the bucket, passing it to another of his fellows nearby.

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” Another one snapped back. “I’m sick of setting up the damned tent.”

There was a bit more squabbling, and Tristan just kept quiet, spinning his essence crucible and flooding his body with the powerful, magic energy as he stayed fully alert and observed their movement. Eventually, they began to set up tents near the well, and Tristan glanced at Felicity, whispering to her. “What do you think? Should I talk to them, or do we just hide out here?”

Felicity shook her head, and her antlers lightly pinged off of Tristan’s armor – not loud enough to get the attention of the Demonkin, but enough noise that Tristan winced from the idea the small gesture would have them be discovered. “Can’t hurt to just tell them you’re here. Better they find out now than find out later, right?”

Tristan nodded, “Seems like a decently smart move.” He got out of the tent and raised his voice, swapping to Demon’s Tongue, “Hey!”

The group of Demonkin all turned to face the source of noise in the darkness, hands going for weapons secreted around their person. “Who is there?” the one who had been ordering the others around shouted out.

“Just a traveler,” Tristan replied. “Heading toward Khrel. Figured you should know you’re not the only ones here.”

One of the Demonkin holding a lantern got closer, and sneered as the light reached the now-standing Tristan in front of his tent. “Where’d you get the fancy armor?” he asked.

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“Old employer,” Tristan replied.

“Seems…fancy.” The Demonkin cracked a slight smile, “You’re rich, aren’t you?”