Chapter Seven
It was only half a day before the second coming of Ashiya that against the picturesque backdrop of the northern mountains the Alamanni dwelled, blissfully unaware of the fate that was about to befall the city they had become estranged from so long ago. A simple people, they remained for centuries hidden in the clouds, from their perch high above they observed the world as far as the eye could see, cautious of the roaming demonic entities that plagued their land. Living in fear for the day that they be discovered, they maintained their solitary existence by ensuring that none who arrived survived to report their discoveries.
Through the gentle azure sky, the rocky terrain glowed bright with the fury of the setting sun, two Alamanni trackers continued their chase; hunting rogue demons that had brushed past their city, too close for comfort. The respect they carried by their brethren for their willing to perform the dangerous duty offered them little solace when out against the elements, tracking these foul beasts like rabid dogs to be put to rest. A young male, Dieter, crouched down on the ground beside his steed; his youthful appearance belied his experience, his tanned complexion disguising his toughened skin and with wide, alert eyes he remained in a state of constant vigilance. Gently he pressed his fingers against the faint imprint of a demonic hoof in the sand that thinly covered the landscape; it was still slightly warm. They had been this way recently. Unusually far from their dwellings, he could only speculate as to their their purpose here.
“So where did they go then?” his partner, Aithne cried from her own horse. Dieter turned to face her; long red hair dancing gracefully against her back with the gentle breeze, her keen child-like mentality evident in the manner she bounced up and down in anticipation. He shook his head in dismay; he was given the duty of training this woman because her recklessness had gotten her last trainer killed, and he was fairly confident she would be the death of him as well. Returning once more to the prints on the ground he further analysed the tracks left in their haste.
“The spacing is quite far apart – they were in a hurry wherever they were going. Possibly two or three strong? They travelled single file so it’s hard to be sure.” He looked up onto the horizon, trying to make out their direction of travel; it would be dark before too long, and if they were to find them they would need to do it soon.
“And?” Aithne cried impatiently, “where are they?”
“My best guess would be the caves up ahead. They will need to rest for the night –” before he could finish she had cantered off in the direction he had indicated, regal green cloak flailing behind her. As he got back onto his own mount, he read the golden lettering that embossed all the cloaks of the trackers. He had been taught by his grandfather how to read the old tongue, despite it being a language that had not been heard in use for centuries. He understood ‘どんな心配のマスターか,’ to mean “What worries you, masters you;” words spoken long ago by the great King Weylyn who built their city of Alamannia from the ground. As relevant today as ever, they were words to live by; he constantly striving to push thoughts of her out of his mind and retain control of their master-apprentice relationship. As she began to drift further off into the distance, he began to give chase lest she succeed in finding the trouble she seemed so eager to uncover.
The sound of horse’s hooves hitting the hard ground resonated around them, the wind whistling past his ears as he gradually gained ground on Aithne’s determined form, confidently riding into the fading sun. As the darkness began to fall upon the two hapless heroes, with her vigour suddenly renewed she pressed onwards towards the dank caves emerging on the horizon; like a monstrous creation they arose from the ground, a maze of intertwining passages. He knew that through the network of tunnels was a path through to the other side and into the vast unknown wastelands that lay beyond. Was that where their prey were headed? Straining his eyes to observe what had sparked this new vivacity, he could faintly discern a blurred figure on the horizon, contrasting with the darker brown of the caverns. Obscured by the shade offered by the passage into the rock, there was no way of telling how many lay hidden amongst the shadows.
Forcing his horse into a gallop to catch up, the blur on the horizon rapidly came into focus; the image of an adolescent demon male had begun to run into the limestone caverns at the sight of them. Raising her crossbow, Aithne carefully took aim, deftly firing a bolt into the upper back of the creature, forcing him onto the ground. He watched as the demon spun around in a rage viscously lunging at the horse within its grasp, his swipe only missing as the horse – scared by the outburst – reared onto its hind legs. Aithne helplessly slid from the horse, rolling backwards onto the hard ground as the horse cantered off into the sunset. ‘She was looking for trouble and she’s found it,’ he thought. The demon appeared pleased with himself as he withdrew his sharp curved blade from his belt and paced over to where she lay, a malicious intent in his eye. Withdrawing his own long slender blade, he desperately closed the ground between them. Lowering his blade outstretched on his side he forced the horse between the two figures; the clashing of his blade against the hard plated skin of the demons hand meeting with a loud ‘clang.’ Roaring in pain, the demon uncontrollably flung the sword aside in reflex at the blow.
Placing a single foot onto the saddle on which he sat, he flung himself from the horse, rolling sideways on the hard ground. Ignoring the pain of the impact of the hard ground he spun once more to the wounded demon. Crouched low to the ground he made his way forwards, suddenly taken aback by the now recovered Aithne. Once more on her feet, she withdrew a bolt from the quiver on her back and dived towards the demon, still nursing his hand. With a bloodthirsty rage she thrust the arrow deep into the demons eye, the squelching as it popped like a grape, sending a shower of blood and thick, jelly-like matter onto the ground. As the demon howled in pain wildly, collapsing onto his knees, Dieter approached with blade in hand. Carefully positioning the blade between the hard plates of skin on his back, he drove the blade deep within the soft flesh that lay beneath. As abruptly as they had begun the demon’s cries stopped, choking slightly as the blood began to gently trickle from his agape jaws. Collapsing onto his side, he slowly fell into death’s cruel embrace.
He turned once more towards Dieter, beaming at him as she wiped the pale white jelly from her chin. “That’s what happens when you run off like that,” Dieter said in a condescending tone.
“We kill the bad guy?” she responded facetiously. Dieter bent down to pick up the crossbow she had dropped in the fight and tossed it over to her. “Lighten up,” she said, catching the bow, drawing another bolt from her quiver and reloading the weapon. “We caught the demon and killed it. Job done.” Dieter proffered a slightly bemuse gaze. “I mean, you’re my trainer right? So, if I was surrounded by demons at knifepoint, wanting to have their way with me,” she continued, flicking her hair in an alluring manner, “you’d have to come to my rescue.”
“No. I wouldn’t,” Dieter responded in a firm manner, despite knowing that begrudgingly he was ultimately responsible for her safety, and to abandon her would be to seek the questioning of the council of elders. Aithne was taken aback slightly by his response.
“But if you were in the area –”
“We still don’t know why they’re here, nor how many remain,” Dieter sharply interrupted, anxious to change the topic of conversation.
“Then lets get to it,” she abruptly responded, turning to face the caves which the recently slain demon seemed to be attempting to reach. Through the corner of her eye she spotted another copper figure, stood in shock at the sight of them a short way in the distance. Turning to flee back into the depths of caverns, Aithne in an instant gave chase. ‘Has she learnt nothing?’ Dieter thought, as he grumbled and followed in pursuit.
He watched as the shroud of darkness engulfed Aithne, and then himself. Out of the way of the dying sun and into the cold caverns crudely fashioned by time he ran forward, hoping his eyes would adjust to the sudden darkness quickly enough to follow them both. The narrow entrance quickly opened out to a large chamber with tunnels leading off in every direction, and he stopped to look for traces of the direction they had taken. Blinking rapidly, trying to see more clearly the ground before him, he felt a large droplet of liquid fall onto his shoulder. He began to brush it off, feeling its viscous sticky texture he quickly realising this foul smelling liquid was not from the cavern, and looked up to see the adult demonic figure attached to the low lying cave ceiling. Unable to react before he had swung from crude rock handholds deep in the ceiling, the impact of his hard hooves sent him flying back onto the hard ground.
Quickly he withdrew his blade. Instinct taking over, he ignored the pain covering his torso – the uneven rock floor digging into his soft back – he looked up at the demon’s hulking frame charging at him, sword high above his head. Raising his own blade to defend the blow he was easily overpowered by the demon’s brute strength; his own blade came crashing down to his side, the tip clanging loudly against the hard rock. Sparks flew from the cold stone floor – likely from a flint nodule that could be found everywhere in these caverns – and Dieter shielded his eyes. As the demon’s blade slid down his own, he was temporarily caught off balance, and – seizing his chance – kicked hard at the demon’s leg to try and destabilise him further. Standing rigid, the demon remained unaffected by the pathetic blow. Quickly regaining his balance, he swung his blade down once more, narrowly missing only as Dieter rolled out of harms way, and getting it embedded deep within the rocky ground.
Dieter quickly arose to his feet and taking advantage of the demons plight – still struggling to free his blade from the ground – swung sharply towards his chest, only to have the blow deflected harmlessly away by the thick plated skin of his arm raised in his defence. Caught off-guard the demon lunged with an open fist towards him, forcing him to stumble back out of his reach. With a triumphant roar he finally freed his blade from the rock; a small explosion as the surrounding stone gave way and crumbled onto the floor; he blindly swung maliciously once more, still out of reach of Dieter, who in response lunged forwards, harmlessly falling forward under his own momentum as the demon swiftly sidestepped his attempt. Deftly Dieter turned once more expecting another blow, only to be confronted by the rapturous laughter of his adversary. Shaking slightly in fear he desperately looked about him for any tool to give him the upper hand and end this battle of wills.
Looking to the ground before him, where the blade had become embedded within the rock his vision became blurred, obscured like ripples on water. Deeply he inhaled through his nose, smelling the sweet smell of the gas rising up from the ground. He proffered a smile which quickly drained the demon of his own amusement. Circling the demon, he stood over the pocket of escaping gas, eyes darting to the ground, searching for a glimpse of the dark flint that had been struck moments ago. He raised his sword behind his head and the demon began to lunge forward. ‘Predictable,’ he thought as he swung his blade onto the flint on the ground as hard as he could; sparks flew high into the air and with an intense furiosity ignited the gas in a torrent of flames, seeping out into the path of the hapless demon; using the momentum of his sword swing to twist out the demon’s path, he turned to face the hapless creature become consumed by a torrent of fire.
Ignited by the flames he roared in pain, the smell of burning flesh infesting their cavernous surroundings, and for the first time he could truly watch the demonic form. Free from the power struggle, the instinctive fear of one another, he gazed into the sorrowful eyes of the beast that had acted according to its nature. Would I kill a dog for biting me when feeling threatened? As the demon crumpled to the floor, he extended out a hand towards him, perhaps a last ditch plea to spare his life. I could kick dust over him and let him live – he would be disfigured and still in pain – but that was not the way he was raised. He had hunted and mercilessly killed these beasts for almost a decade, but for the first time he questioned, what gave him the right to live and not them?
Mercifully, he frantically kicked dust onto the flames of the dying beast, putting out the fire and ending the creatures torment; it was his compassion that made him human, and his compassion that refused to allow any creature to suffer this as punishment. With foot placed firmly on the demons chest, he looked into the demon’s relieved expression and thankful gaze; tears began to well up from his disfigured eyes, blinded by the fire. Raising his sword, he plunged it deep into the softened plates of the demon’s chest, penetrating his heart and putting the creature out of its misery once and for all. As he watched, the sound of a crossbow bolt firing in the distance abruptly forced his attention to snap back into focus; Aithne was still present in these caverns and so was the demon they had chased.
Towards the sound he raced, darting down the dark cold circular passageways through the rock, following the weaving tunnels into the black; he could hear the scampering of feet in the distance. A crossbow bolt marked the way through the first fork, the loud cacophony of crumbling rock ahead spurring her on further, and blade still in hand he soon emerged in a small opening, one of the three passages leading away obscured by rock that had collapsed. Quickly he scrabbled away at the debris, the glimmer of the other side through the gap in the rock allowing him to peer through. Only capable of seeing the thick demonic plates of an arm raised high, pinning something against the wall, it was all that he needed to see. Thrusting his blade deep into the cracks, he used all the force he could muster to pry apart the rock, it finally yielding; a small rock flung outwards, forcing a small avalanche to tumble down.
Through the now visible passageway the startled adolescent demon could be seen to have Aithne pinned to the wall by her throat, her face turning blue in the grip of his powerful hand. As Dieter climbed over the remaining rock, sword still in hand, the demon in a panic dropped her weak frame onto the ground beside her crossbow and began to sprint clumsily down the narrow passage, shoulder bashing against the overhanging rocks embedded in the walls, callously knocking sections onto the ground. Shielding his face with his free hand he ran in pursuit of the figure desperate to escape; ducking to avoid the crumbling rock he peered above his arm to the figure up ahead. The demon had halted, confronted by a stone wall blocking his path. Raising his sword, he pounced on the demon, frantically spinning round to meet his assailant; sword coming inches away from his throat.
“Why are you here,” Dieter yelled, looking deep into the panic stricken eyes of the beast before him, frantically trying to avert his gaze. “You have no purpose here, so why have you come,” he pursued.
“You don’t understand, I mean no harm,” he pleaded in an exacerbated tone. Dieter crudely spat in his face and slowly forced his blade closer into his throat; the hard skin visibly bending inwards where he applied pressure with the tip. A tear welled up at the demons eye, a sign of humanity perhaps? Or a trick to try and fool us? Either way he didn’t allow his attention to drift from the matter at hand. “She is coming,” the demon reluctantly proffered, “I was sent here in case –” he gulped nervously, evidently weighing up how much he would need to confess.
“Who sent you? Who is she,” Dieter barked venomously, eyes seething in a bloody rage. She clenched tightly her grip on the blade; its weight was beginning to tire her arm but she ignored the aching sensation, the pain from her bruised ribs became more prominent with every breath.
“Please, I need to find it,” the demon cried, tears streaming from his face. Dieter realised he was genuinely scared, but the fear was not from him, but rather what would happen if he failed his mission. “The Divider of Souls –” he was cut off by a bolt, whizzing just inches away from his own ear to strike the demon squarely in the forehead. Blood gently trickling down from his wound, he raised one claw to feel where it had impacted him before slumping down on the ground before him. Dieter felt none of his rage subside as be turned to face Aithne, still rubbing her neck sorely.
“He had information we could have used,” he roared venomously, hissing at her in disbelief of her ineptitude.
“He’d only have lied,” she grumbled bitterly.
“Did you not think he may be worth more to us alive?”
“The only good demon is a dead demon,” she casually responded, brushing off his condescending tone.
“And now we have no idea why they’re here other than they were sent by someone because someone else was coming –” he began, speaking rapidly. Aithne paced over towards the demon lifelessly slumped against the stone floor, “ – and something about a provider of souls and,” he turned once more towards Aithne, “are you even listening to what I’m saying?” He watched as Aithne put one thin leather shoe onto the demons forehead, and tightly gripping the bolt tore it from the demon’s skull; blood sloshed from the cavity, spattering her torso.
“Don’t want to let it go to waste,” she responded to his vacant glare in a matter of fact tone, wiping the blood droplets from her chest.
“You do not take matters like this into your –,” Dieter continued, adamant to try and retain her attention long enough to make his point.
“Hey, you’re the language guy right?” she interrupted, “this looks like something important,” she said, pointing to a small engraving that had become all the more noticeable by the thin gloss of body matter. Dieter walked over to the stone and delicately pushed the demon’s corpse aside, gently feeling the engravings embedded in the wall. “Can you translate it,” Aithne asked enthusiastically. Dieter turned to her, long red hair bouncing up and down as she energetically displayed her joy at her discovery, before returning his attention to the markings. As she focussed on them, she became sure they were the old tongue, proudly inscribed “ホールの霊魂,” on a single stone slab. Hall of Souls? Could that be the correct translation? Looking around for any further markings proved useless; there was nothing to be found.
“It’s nothing, just scratches on the rock,” he replied. Aithne gave him a knowing look, and he let out a brief sigh. “Fine, I think it say’s ‘Hall of Souls,’ but it’s probably a mistranslation.”
“Look again,” she cried, pouting like a child. Dieter prodded the rock once more, about to continue explaining its insignificance when much to his surprise the rock gently slid into the wall. Surprised he suddenly recoiled, only to be pushed aside onto the rocky floor by Aithne who had seen him stumble. Kicking hard at the loose stone, she sent it flying across to the other side, the sudden loss of the supporting rock sending the entire wall crumbling down. Through the smog of dust that had been kicked up into the narrow tunnel deep beneath the rock they spluttered uncontrollably. Dieter closed his eyes, temporarily blinded he desperately used his hands to rub them clean. Returning to his feet he stared at Aithne, a look of loathing which she promptly ignored as she beamed back. With a skip in her step she bounded over the rubble and onwards down the tunnel with Dieter begrudgingly traipsing behind.
As they made their way past the remains of the wall, through the dark tunnel the cold, moist stone walls began to broaden, curving round in a swirling teardrop-like shape to eventually reveal a vast chamber; the hollowed mountain without a peak lending light to the surroundings. The distinctly drier, warmer atmosphere provided by the darkening sky above provided light down onto their surroundings. Weathered down to a soft fine power over the years, the warm sand covering the floor had remained undisturbed for centuries. Long stalactites hung from the jagged limestone walls, threatening in the manner they had precariously grown, and the remnants of those that had fallen loose from their balanced perch high above could be seen in the large rock cavities that populated the floor. A spiralling stalagmitic structure lay to their left, growing like some hideous deformity of dull amber bones, interweaving as they climbed ever higher, supporting the only other visible exit high above them, well beyond their reach. In the centre of the room proudly stood a single cylindrical stone, clearly carved with some purpose, the gentle flow of the sand incapable of eroding away the engravings clearly visible in the side facing them.
Dieter approached the stone centre, entranced by the carving on the stone ahead she drifted towards it uncontrollably. There could be no mistake now, this was written in the old tongue; a language that hadn’t been spoken for centuries. Her mind raced with thoughts of what they had uncovered. Was this some form of meeting place for her ancestors? Was she standing in the remains of some great meeting hall, where centuries ago decisions would be made that would echo through time? He crouched to examine the inscription further, “公然マインド離す休み中 - The Open Mind can Sever the Closed.” Slowly he stood up, muttering that phrase over to himself, trying to make sense of it. Why would the inhabitants of this place leave such a cryptic message behind?
A loud clang instantly brought his attention back into focus, instinctively drawing her sword and twisting around to the spiralling stalagmite from where the sound had originated. At its foot stood Aithne attempting to dent the stone with an oddly fashioned double-edged dagger; long and unseemly thin it remained perfectly rigid, its colour an opaque pure white colour, bringing an unearthly light to the darkness. He rushed over to her, and grabbing the dagger wrenched it away from her grasp.
“Where did you find this?” Dieter asked in a volatile manner.
“It was on the lump of rock you were looking at,” she replied, shrugging off the threatening tone the question demanded of her. He looked down at the blade, the warmth spreading throughout his body, and noticed a thin gloss reflecting the light more prominently. Using the sunlight to reflect off the glossy coating on the blade, he observed further writing. “分圧器の世界の – Divider of Worlds.” Her eyes grew wider at the realisation that this was what the demon in the corridor was searching for. Delicately she felt along the edge: blunt. The unknown material and the rigidity of such a thin construction concluded what she had already guessed, that this was of foreign origin. But what could they possibly want with a blunt blade? And why would they travel so far for it?
“Hey! Can I have my dagger back?” Aithne cried, annoyed at the sight of Dieter gently sliding the dagger into his belt. “I found it, I get to keep it.”
“And what would you do with it?”
“Sharpen it and crack some demon skulls,” Aithne said, allowing a slight smug grin to come across her face. Dieter turned away from her and started walking back the way they came.
“I’m taking it to Ailis,” he said with a calm defiance.
“That crazy old bat? I know she’s your grandmother but how’s she gonna be able to help?”
“This dagger is what the demon’s were searching for,” he responded, failing to slow down his stride and forcing Aithne to follow behind, “It’s why they came here and if anyone can make sense of it –”
“But she’s crazy! You won’t get a straight answer out of her”
“I don’t need a straight answer, just an informed one.”
Emerging from the darkness of the caves, the outline of the single remaining horse visible in the minimal light offered by the night sky, Dieter looked up to the moon’s ominous glow. The dagger glowing alongside, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed that something was awry; what was it that the demon feared so strongly that required this weapon? He gently slid onto the saddle of his horse and turned towards Aithne, eyes fixated on the ground before her, kicking the dust as she walked. “Get on before I leave you,” he called, Aithne continuing to reluctantly pace towards him ignoring his cry. Gently she slid onto the saddle behind him, and they began their journey back to Alammania.
Through the gentle azure sky, the rocky terrain glowed bright with the fury of the setting sun, two Alamanni trackers continued their chase; hunting rogue demons that had brushed past their city, too close for comfort. The respect they carried by their brethren for their willing to perform the dangerous duty offered them little solace when out against the elements, tracking these foul beasts like rabid dogs to be put to rest. A young male, Dieter, crouched down on the ground beside his steed; his youthful appearance belied his experience, his tanned complexion disguising his toughened skin and with wide, alert eyes he remained in a state of constant vigilance. Gently he pressed his fingers against the faint imprint of a demonic hoof in the sand that thinly covered the landscape; it was still slightly warm. They had been this way recently. Unusually far from their dwellings, he could only speculate as to their their purpose here.
“So where did they go then?” his partner, Aithne cried from her own horse. Dieter turned to face her; long red hair dancing gracefully against her back with the gentle breeze, her keen child-like mentality evident in the manner she bounced up and down in anticipation. He shook his head in dismay; he was given the duty of training this woman because her recklessness had gotten her last trainer killed, and he was fairly confident she would be the death of him as well. Returning once more to the prints on the ground he further analysed the tracks left in their haste.
“The spacing is quite far apart – they were in a hurry wherever they were going. Possibly two or three strong? They travelled single file so it’s hard to be sure.” He looked up onto the horizon, trying to make out their direction of travel; it would be dark before too long, and if they were to find them they would need to do it soon.
“And?” Aithne cried impatiently, “where are they?”
“My best guess would be the caves up ahead. They will need to rest for the night –” before he could finish she had cantered off in the direction he had indicated, regal green cloak flailing behind her. As he got back onto his own mount, he read the golden lettering that embossed all the cloaks of the trackers. He had been taught by his grandfather how to read the old tongue, despite it being a language that had not been heard in use for centuries. He understood ‘どんな心配のマスターか,’ to mean “What worries you, masters you;” words spoken long ago by the great King Weylyn who built their city of Alamannia from the ground. As relevant today as ever, they were words to live by; he constantly striving to push thoughts of her out of his mind and retain control of their master-apprentice relationship. As she began to drift further off into the distance, he began to give chase lest she succeed in finding the trouble she seemed so eager to uncover.
The sound of horse’s hooves hitting the hard ground resonated around them, the wind whistling past his ears as he gradually gained ground on Aithne’s determined form, confidently riding into the fading sun. As the darkness began to fall upon the two hapless heroes, with her vigour suddenly renewed she pressed onwards towards the dank caves emerging on the horizon; like a monstrous creation they arose from the ground, a maze of intertwining passages. He knew that through the network of tunnels was a path through to the other side and into the vast unknown wastelands that lay beyond. Was that where their prey were headed? Straining his eyes to observe what had sparked this new vivacity, he could faintly discern a blurred figure on the horizon, contrasting with the darker brown of the caverns. Obscured by the shade offered by the passage into the rock, there was no way of telling how many lay hidden amongst the shadows.
Forcing his horse into a gallop to catch up, the blur on the horizon rapidly came into focus; the image of an adolescent demon male had begun to run into the limestone caverns at the sight of them. Raising her crossbow, Aithne carefully took aim, deftly firing a bolt into the upper back of the creature, forcing him onto the ground. He watched as the demon spun around in a rage viscously lunging at the horse within its grasp, his swipe only missing as the horse – scared by the outburst – reared onto its hind legs. Aithne helplessly slid from the horse, rolling backwards onto the hard ground as the horse cantered off into the sunset. ‘She was looking for trouble and she’s found it,’ he thought. The demon appeared pleased with himself as he withdrew his sharp curved blade from his belt and paced over to where she lay, a malicious intent in his eye. Withdrawing his own long slender blade, he desperately closed the ground between them. Lowering his blade outstretched on his side he forced the horse between the two figures; the clashing of his blade against the hard plated skin of the demons hand meeting with a loud ‘clang.’ Roaring in pain, the demon uncontrollably flung the sword aside in reflex at the blow.
Placing a single foot onto the saddle on which he sat, he flung himself from the horse, rolling sideways on the hard ground. Ignoring the pain of the impact of the hard ground he spun once more to the wounded demon. Crouched low to the ground he made his way forwards, suddenly taken aback by the now recovered Aithne. Once more on her feet, she withdrew a bolt from the quiver on her back and dived towards the demon, still nursing his hand. With a bloodthirsty rage she thrust the arrow deep into the demons eye, the squelching as it popped like a grape, sending a shower of blood and thick, jelly-like matter onto the ground. As the demon howled in pain wildly, collapsing onto his knees, Dieter approached with blade in hand. Carefully positioning the blade between the hard plates of skin on his back, he drove the blade deep within the soft flesh that lay beneath. As abruptly as they had begun the demon’s cries stopped, choking slightly as the blood began to gently trickle from his agape jaws. Collapsing onto his side, he slowly fell into death’s cruel embrace.
He turned once more towards Dieter, beaming at him as she wiped the pale white jelly from her chin. “That’s what happens when you run off like that,” Dieter said in a condescending tone.
“We kill the bad guy?” she responded facetiously. Dieter bent down to pick up the crossbow she had dropped in the fight and tossed it over to her. “Lighten up,” she said, catching the bow, drawing another bolt from her quiver and reloading the weapon. “We caught the demon and killed it. Job done.” Dieter proffered a slightly bemuse gaze. “I mean, you’re my trainer right? So, if I was surrounded by demons at knifepoint, wanting to have their way with me,” she continued, flicking her hair in an alluring manner, “you’d have to come to my rescue.”
“No. I wouldn’t,” Dieter responded in a firm manner, despite knowing that begrudgingly he was ultimately responsible for her safety, and to abandon her would be to seek the questioning of the council of elders. Aithne was taken aback slightly by his response.
“But if you were in the area –”
“We still don’t know why they’re here, nor how many remain,” Dieter sharply interrupted, anxious to change the topic of conversation.
“Then lets get to it,” she abruptly responded, turning to face the caves which the recently slain demon seemed to be attempting to reach. Through the corner of her eye she spotted another copper figure, stood in shock at the sight of them a short way in the distance. Turning to flee back into the depths of caverns, Aithne in an instant gave chase. ‘Has she learnt nothing?’ Dieter thought, as he grumbled and followed in pursuit.
He watched as the shroud of darkness engulfed Aithne, and then himself. Out of the way of the dying sun and into the cold caverns crudely fashioned by time he ran forward, hoping his eyes would adjust to the sudden darkness quickly enough to follow them both. The narrow entrance quickly opened out to a large chamber with tunnels leading off in every direction, and he stopped to look for traces of the direction they had taken. Blinking rapidly, trying to see more clearly the ground before him, he felt a large droplet of liquid fall onto his shoulder. He began to brush it off, feeling its viscous sticky texture he quickly realising this foul smelling liquid was not from the cavern, and looked up to see the adult demonic figure attached to the low lying cave ceiling. Unable to react before he had swung from crude rock handholds deep in the ceiling, the impact of his hard hooves sent him flying back onto the hard ground.
Quickly he withdrew his blade. Instinct taking over, he ignored the pain covering his torso – the uneven rock floor digging into his soft back – he looked up at the demon’s hulking frame charging at him, sword high above his head. Raising his own blade to defend the blow he was easily overpowered by the demon’s brute strength; his own blade came crashing down to his side, the tip clanging loudly against the hard rock. Sparks flew from the cold stone floor – likely from a flint nodule that could be found everywhere in these caverns – and Dieter shielded his eyes. As the demon’s blade slid down his own, he was temporarily caught off balance, and – seizing his chance – kicked hard at the demon’s leg to try and destabilise him further. Standing rigid, the demon remained unaffected by the pathetic blow. Quickly regaining his balance, he swung his blade down once more, narrowly missing only as Dieter rolled out of harms way, and getting it embedded deep within the rocky ground.
Dieter quickly arose to his feet and taking advantage of the demons plight – still struggling to free his blade from the ground – swung sharply towards his chest, only to have the blow deflected harmlessly away by the thick plated skin of his arm raised in his defence. Caught off-guard the demon lunged with an open fist towards him, forcing him to stumble back out of his reach. With a triumphant roar he finally freed his blade from the rock; a small explosion as the surrounding stone gave way and crumbled onto the floor; he blindly swung maliciously once more, still out of reach of Dieter, who in response lunged forwards, harmlessly falling forward under his own momentum as the demon swiftly sidestepped his attempt. Deftly Dieter turned once more expecting another blow, only to be confronted by the rapturous laughter of his adversary. Shaking slightly in fear he desperately looked about him for any tool to give him the upper hand and end this battle of wills.
Looking to the ground before him, where the blade had become embedded within the rock his vision became blurred, obscured like ripples on water. Deeply he inhaled through his nose, smelling the sweet smell of the gas rising up from the ground. He proffered a smile which quickly drained the demon of his own amusement. Circling the demon, he stood over the pocket of escaping gas, eyes darting to the ground, searching for a glimpse of the dark flint that had been struck moments ago. He raised his sword behind his head and the demon began to lunge forward. ‘Predictable,’ he thought as he swung his blade onto the flint on the ground as hard as he could; sparks flew high into the air and with an intense furiosity ignited the gas in a torrent of flames, seeping out into the path of the hapless demon; using the momentum of his sword swing to twist out the demon’s path, he turned to face the hapless creature become consumed by a torrent of fire.
Ignited by the flames he roared in pain, the smell of burning flesh infesting their cavernous surroundings, and for the first time he could truly watch the demonic form. Free from the power struggle, the instinctive fear of one another, he gazed into the sorrowful eyes of the beast that had acted according to its nature. Would I kill a dog for biting me when feeling threatened? As the demon crumpled to the floor, he extended out a hand towards him, perhaps a last ditch plea to spare his life. I could kick dust over him and let him live – he would be disfigured and still in pain – but that was not the way he was raised. He had hunted and mercilessly killed these beasts for almost a decade, but for the first time he questioned, what gave him the right to live and not them?
Mercifully, he frantically kicked dust onto the flames of the dying beast, putting out the fire and ending the creatures torment; it was his compassion that made him human, and his compassion that refused to allow any creature to suffer this as punishment. With foot placed firmly on the demons chest, he looked into the demon’s relieved expression and thankful gaze; tears began to well up from his disfigured eyes, blinded by the fire. Raising his sword, he plunged it deep into the softened plates of the demon’s chest, penetrating his heart and putting the creature out of its misery once and for all. As he watched, the sound of a crossbow bolt firing in the distance abruptly forced his attention to snap back into focus; Aithne was still present in these caverns and so was the demon they had chased.
Towards the sound he raced, darting down the dark cold circular passageways through the rock, following the weaving tunnels into the black; he could hear the scampering of feet in the distance. A crossbow bolt marked the way through the first fork, the loud cacophony of crumbling rock ahead spurring her on further, and blade still in hand he soon emerged in a small opening, one of the three passages leading away obscured by rock that had collapsed. Quickly he scrabbled away at the debris, the glimmer of the other side through the gap in the rock allowing him to peer through. Only capable of seeing the thick demonic plates of an arm raised high, pinning something against the wall, it was all that he needed to see. Thrusting his blade deep into the cracks, he used all the force he could muster to pry apart the rock, it finally yielding; a small rock flung outwards, forcing a small avalanche to tumble down.
Through the now visible passageway the startled adolescent demon could be seen to have Aithne pinned to the wall by her throat, her face turning blue in the grip of his powerful hand. As Dieter climbed over the remaining rock, sword still in hand, the demon in a panic dropped her weak frame onto the ground beside her crossbow and began to sprint clumsily down the narrow passage, shoulder bashing against the overhanging rocks embedded in the walls, callously knocking sections onto the ground. Shielding his face with his free hand he ran in pursuit of the figure desperate to escape; ducking to avoid the crumbling rock he peered above his arm to the figure up ahead. The demon had halted, confronted by a stone wall blocking his path. Raising his sword, he pounced on the demon, frantically spinning round to meet his assailant; sword coming inches away from his throat.
“Why are you here,” Dieter yelled, looking deep into the panic stricken eyes of the beast before him, frantically trying to avert his gaze. “You have no purpose here, so why have you come,” he pursued.
“You don’t understand, I mean no harm,” he pleaded in an exacerbated tone. Dieter crudely spat in his face and slowly forced his blade closer into his throat; the hard skin visibly bending inwards where he applied pressure with the tip. A tear welled up at the demons eye, a sign of humanity perhaps? Or a trick to try and fool us? Either way he didn’t allow his attention to drift from the matter at hand. “She is coming,” the demon reluctantly proffered, “I was sent here in case –” he gulped nervously, evidently weighing up how much he would need to confess.
“Who sent you? Who is she,” Dieter barked venomously, eyes seething in a bloody rage. She clenched tightly her grip on the blade; its weight was beginning to tire her arm but she ignored the aching sensation, the pain from her bruised ribs became more prominent with every breath.
“Please, I need to find it,” the demon cried, tears streaming from his face. Dieter realised he was genuinely scared, but the fear was not from him, but rather what would happen if he failed his mission. “The Divider of Souls –” he was cut off by a bolt, whizzing just inches away from his own ear to strike the demon squarely in the forehead. Blood gently trickling down from his wound, he raised one claw to feel where it had impacted him before slumping down on the ground before him. Dieter felt none of his rage subside as be turned to face Aithne, still rubbing her neck sorely.
“He had information we could have used,” he roared venomously, hissing at her in disbelief of her ineptitude.
“He’d only have lied,” she grumbled bitterly.
“Did you not think he may be worth more to us alive?”
“The only good demon is a dead demon,” she casually responded, brushing off his condescending tone.
“And now we have no idea why they’re here other than they were sent by someone because someone else was coming –” he began, speaking rapidly. Aithne paced over towards the demon lifelessly slumped against the stone floor, “ – and something about a provider of souls and,” he turned once more towards Aithne, “are you even listening to what I’m saying?” He watched as Aithne put one thin leather shoe onto the demons forehead, and tightly gripping the bolt tore it from the demon’s skull; blood sloshed from the cavity, spattering her torso.
“Don’t want to let it go to waste,” she responded to his vacant glare in a matter of fact tone, wiping the blood droplets from her chest.
“You do not take matters like this into your –,” Dieter continued, adamant to try and retain her attention long enough to make his point.
“Hey, you’re the language guy right?” she interrupted, “this looks like something important,” she said, pointing to a small engraving that had become all the more noticeable by the thin gloss of body matter. Dieter walked over to the stone and delicately pushed the demon’s corpse aside, gently feeling the engravings embedded in the wall. “Can you translate it,” Aithne asked enthusiastically. Dieter turned to her, long red hair bouncing up and down as she energetically displayed her joy at her discovery, before returning his attention to the markings. As she focussed on them, she became sure they were the old tongue, proudly inscribed “ホールの霊魂,” on a single stone slab. Hall of Souls? Could that be the correct translation? Looking around for any further markings proved useless; there was nothing to be found.
“It’s nothing, just scratches on the rock,” he replied. Aithne gave him a knowing look, and he let out a brief sigh. “Fine, I think it say’s ‘Hall of Souls,’ but it’s probably a mistranslation.”
“Look again,” she cried, pouting like a child. Dieter prodded the rock once more, about to continue explaining its insignificance when much to his surprise the rock gently slid into the wall. Surprised he suddenly recoiled, only to be pushed aside onto the rocky floor by Aithne who had seen him stumble. Kicking hard at the loose stone, she sent it flying across to the other side, the sudden loss of the supporting rock sending the entire wall crumbling down. Through the smog of dust that had been kicked up into the narrow tunnel deep beneath the rock they spluttered uncontrollably. Dieter closed his eyes, temporarily blinded he desperately used his hands to rub them clean. Returning to his feet he stared at Aithne, a look of loathing which she promptly ignored as she beamed back. With a skip in her step she bounded over the rubble and onwards down the tunnel with Dieter begrudgingly traipsing behind.
As they made their way past the remains of the wall, through the dark tunnel the cold, moist stone walls began to broaden, curving round in a swirling teardrop-like shape to eventually reveal a vast chamber; the hollowed mountain without a peak lending light to the surroundings. The distinctly drier, warmer atmosphere provided by the darkening sky above provided light down onto their surroundings. Weathered down to a soft fine power over the years, the warm sand covering the floor had remained undisturbed for centuries. Long stalactites hung from the jagged limestone walls, threatening in the manner they had precariously grown, and the remnants of those that had fallen loose from their balanced perch high above could be seen in the large rock cavities that populated the floor. A spiralling stalagmitic structure lay to their left, growing like some hideous deformity of dull amber bones, interweaving as they climbed ever higher, supporting the only other visible exit high above them, well beyond their reach. In the centre of the room proudly stood a single cylindrical stone, clearly carved with some purpose, the gentle flow of the sand incapable of eroding away the engravings clearly visible in the side facing them.
Dieter approached the stone centre, entranced by the carving on the stone ahead she drifted towards it uncontrollably. There could be no mistake now, this was written in the old tongue; a language that hadn’t been spoken for centuries. Her mind raced with thoughts of what they had uncovered. Was this some form of meeting place for her ancestors? Was she standing in the remains of some great meeting hall, where centuries ago decisions would be made that would echo through time? He crouched to examine the inscription further, “公然マインド離す休み中 - The Open Mind can Sever the Closed.” Slowly he stood up, muttering that phrase over to himself, trying to make sense of it. Why would the inhabitants of this place leave such a cryptic message behind?
A loud clang instantly brought his attention back into focus, instinctively drawing her sword and twisting around to the spiralling stalagmite from where the sound had originated. At its foot stood Aithne attempting to dent the stone with an oddly fashioned double-edged dagger; long and unseemly thin it remained perfectly rigid, its colour an opaque pure white colour, bringing an unearthly light to the darkness. He rushed over to her, and grabbing the dagger wrenched it away from her grasp.
“Where did you find this?” Dieter asked in a volatile manner.
“It was on the lump of rock you were looking at,” she replied, shrugging off the threatening tone the question demanded of her. He looked down at the blade, the warmth spreading throughout his body, and noticed a thin gloss reflecting the light more prominently. Using the sunlight to reflect off the glossy coating on the blade, he observed further writing. “分圧器の世界の – Divider of Worlds.” Her eyes grew wider at the realisation that this was what the demon in the corridor was searching for. Delicately she felt along the edge: blunt. The unknown material and the rigidity of such a thin construction concluded what she had already guessed, that this was of foreign origin. But what could they possibly want with a blunt blade? And why would they travel so far for it?
“Hey! Can I have my dagger back?” Aithne cried, annoyed at the sight of Dieter gently sliding the dagger into his belt. “I found it, I get to keep it.”
“And what would you do with it?”
“Sharpen it and crack some demon skulls,” Aithne said, allowing a slight smug grin to come across her face. Dieter turned away from her and started walking back the way they came.
“I’m taking it to Ailis,” he said with a calm defiance.
“That crazy old bat? I know she’s your grandmother but how’s she gonna be able to help?”
“This dagger is what the demon’s were searching for,” he responded, failing to slow down his stride and forcing Aithne to follow behind, “It’s why they came here and if anyone can make sense of it –”
“But she’s crazy! You won’t get a straight answer out of her”
“I don’t need a straight answer, just an informed one.”
Emerging from the darkness of the caves, the outline of the single remaining horse visible in the minimal light offered by the night sky, Dieter looked up to the moon’s ominous glow. The dagger glowing alongside, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed that something was awry; what was it that the demon feared so strongly that required this weapon? He gently slid onto the saddle of his horse and turned towards Aithne, eyes fixated on the ground before her, kicking the dust as she walked. “Get on before I leave you,” he called, Aithne continuing to reluctantly pace towards him ignoring his cry. Gently she slid onto the saddle behind him, and they began their journey back to Alammania.
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