The Demonlord

The humans splintered before the Scourge, mewling pitifully as he clove through line after line of their paltry warriors. Demonfather’s troops followed his path of destruction, spreading through the city like a wildfire, sowing as much chaos and carnage as they could. It was all part of my strategy. Capturing the city was never part of the plan, the deaths of the humans only our secondary objective. My target remained the same as it had been since first I glimpsed it: the weapon the humans called the Truck, and the death of the Demonslayer who wielded it.

“The humans have abandoned their posts on the southern side of the city.” Captain Reimer informed me. It was just as I had anticipated. The fools had diverted all of their attention to the breach in the north wall, leaving the rest undefended.

“Ready the ropes.” I commanded. Several squads of troops bearing thick coils advanced to the base of the walls. Designated climbers wrapped the end of the coils around their waists and began to scale, their claws easily finding purchase on the rough stone of the fortifications. They made the top with haste, and tied off the ropes along the battlements.

I strode down the line of dangling ropes, giving each a firm tug to make sure they were all secure. When all proved satisfactory, I gave the command, and the two platoons I had assigned to the mission began their climb. I was not far behind, and we regrouped when we reached the top.

“Keep a low profile.” I ordered, “We want the humans’ attention to stay solely on the main force. If you are spotted, lead your pursuers back to the breach. Do not under any circumstances allow our enemy to know the true target of this assault.”

The search was quick. The streets were too narrow and too packed for the Demonslayer to properly utilize his weapon, so it was a simple matter to locate it. The infernal machine had been stashed in the courtyard beneath a towering church, guarded by a small squad of soldiers. An old human with his arm in a sling appeared to hold command. One of his men ran back and forth frequently, keeping him updated on the events of the battle.

I motioned to my captains and they silently advanced their troops down narrow side streets and towards the churchside courtyard. The city was deserted, the human peasants hunkered down in their residences while the armies fought. That, I was thankful for. Well-organized interference from locals could prove just as disastrous as any army for an occupying force. It was ultimately the actions of civilian resistance movements that had inspired my decision to raze the city of Emis during the early days of the Demonlord’s campaign.

You’re the Demonlord now. A voice in my head reminded me, and while the thought brought a smile to my lips, the title was empty. I held scarcely one quarter of the power of the previous Demonlord, with only two generals swearing me loyalty. I was Demonlord in name only.

But only for the moment, the tides were about to shift. When I recovered the previous Demonlord’s horns, his power would be mine. We could be done with this pointless conflict, and return to wars and a universe that actually mattered. Deepsinger still waited for me in the Fathoms, and Fearkeeper would have rallied behind my claim but for the power of the Demonlord. The Blood Throne was calling my name, I needed only to reach out and take it.

Captain Henylis’ platoon circled around slowly to the northwest, while I joined Captain Reimer’s approach from the southern streets. The newly appointed captain was a bold warrior indeed, and did not lack for respect among his new troops. He moved them quickly and discreetly down a narrow alley between two blocks of buildings, pausing only to ask my advice on our manner of approach to the final target. I suggested how he might spread his troops across several adjacent alleys to allow for the quick entry of the entire platoon, but left the decision ultimately in his hands. Suffice it to say, the decision to promote him was turning out to be one of my better in the past weeks.

Reimer set his troops in position, following the outline of my suggestion, but removing two troops from the rearguard and positioning them on a nearby rooftop overlooking the courtyard. I checked his placements to ensure they were sound, and satisfied that they were, rejoined my officer in hiding with the primary assault element.

Now, all we had to do was wait for Henylis to move his troops into position and the attack could begin in earnest. The battle for the northern wall still raged strong, and the old man’s messenger once more raced off to collect the latest from the humans’ frontline forces. I grit my teeth in anticipation. Henylis’ platoon had a longer journey, yes, but should they be taking this long? I scanned the far streets, ears listening for the slightest disturbance amid the faint ambience of bloodshed half a city away.

There. On the other side of the courtyard, Henylis’ troops began to move into positions. There appeared to be an obstruction on the northern end of his arc, an open window. A human stood there, looking out over the courtyard. If she saw the encroaching demons, she could put the soldiers on alert. One of Henylis’ troops slunk around the base of the building and silently scaled the wall beneath the window. I saw him pause, consider his position, and quietly leap through.

The human’s cry of surprise was muffled, but audible throughout the courtyard. The soldiers guarding the Truck looked around suspiciously. The old human pointed in the direction of the open window.

“Send it.” I growled in Reimer’s ear.

“What of the signal?” The captain asked.

“The others will attack when they see us engage. We must move now or lose the element of surprise.”

Reimer motioned for his platoon to attack. The troops surged out of the alleys, falling upon the distracted human defenders. The two positioned atop the rooftop took shots with their bows, both finding the same target and sending him to the ground.

The old human shouted to two of his soldiers, pointing in the direction of the ongoing battle at the north wall. Reimer dispatched a section of his platoon to intercept them while I made my approach to the weapon. I unslung my flail and gave it a few warmup swings. The comforting weight of the head tugged against the chain as I came upon the first human soldier.

Two swings. One knocked aside his weapon, the other caved in his skull. Blood flecks spattered against my face, their intoxicating scent filling my nostrils. Another soldier met the end of my weapon, then another. Their bodies crumpled to the ground. Henylis had ordered his platoon forward and they swept across the courtyard. The humans were outnumbered four to one and they saw it now, realized that their lives were already over. Their faces reflected their terror, their cowardice. All of them, save one.

The old man locked eyes with me. Despite his age, he had the bearing of a man much younger. Fire burned in his eyes. He wasn’t afraid to die.

“Now you show your face.” He spat, “I should have known you’d try something underhanded. Your men fight the warriors, while all you bother to do is fight an injured old man.”

“You humans have a funny idea of honour.” I replied, “And absolutely no understanding of strategy. To leave your most powerful weapon, unused, in the hands of an injured old man? You deserve your failure.”

The old man charged me. I made no effort to evade his attack. His blade slammed into my chest, though it did little more than stick into my armor. I grabbed him by the throat, lifted him into the air, and once more earned my name. The old man’s body crumpled to the ground. I wiped the blood from his newly acquired skull and slung it next to the other I’d acquired on my belt. They clacked together neatly as I walked and confronted the weapon.

Around me, the fighting ceased as both platoons slew the humans. Reimer’s detachment returned, and informed me that no humans had escaped to warn the others. We were in the clear, for now.

I approached the strange artifact, my fingers tracing over its odd, smooth exterior. I looked down at the horns mounted on its front and gave one a casual tug. It refused to budge. Nevertheless, I had prepared for this.

I produced from beneath my cloak an ancient green flask and opened the stopper. Twining ivy vines sprouted from the flask, wrapping around the Truck. They enclosed it, wiggling and writhing, slowly compressing until they formed a ball no bigger than an acorn. The vines shot back into the flask, taking the diminished truck with them. I closed the flask swiftly

“We have the weapon.” I said, “Send word to the Demonfather. Kill the Demonslayer if possible, if not make a safe retreat. We need to preserve as many of our troops as possible for the crossing to come.”

Reimer saluted. “Sending someone now.”

I looked down at the flask in my hand, a smile growing wider on my face. The skulls on my hip clacked as I strode back to the wall. Demonlord. That word felt better on my tongue. Who needed raw strength when you could have guile, anyway? I certainly wasn’t the worse off for it.

“Aeshphelar,” I muttered under my breath, “I’m coming for you. We shall see the sands of the Demonrealm once more.”