Chapter 62

~~Day 82~~

~~David~~

The next day. The group had grown.

Up on the top terrace edge, the mountain reached high on David’s right. On his left, there were maybe thirty giant steps that went down, each growing closer to the nigh bottomless ravine at the bottom. So many steps, each ten meters wide, and a pit at the bottom of the canyon, meant the Scar was almost a kilometer wide at the highest point, where he walked now.

Kind of annoying to get from one side to the other. The demons knew it, too, so they stuck to his side. Thousands of demons walked behind him and on the lower steps, volas with little bits of armor, barely enough to cover their chests and some soft spots. The volas wielded weapons, swords and axes, but the tigers, satyrs, gargoyles, brutes, vrats, bat girls, and a couple minotaurs, didn’t. Without weapons, volas weren’t all that scary to fight, according to them. They could fight without weapons, so they gave them to the sex demons.

Betrayers followed with them, many naked, some wearing tattered and ‘ugly’ versions of the silk the volas coveted, not dyed, all shades of gray. None carried weapons, but a few carried a rock they found. Better than nothing.

Not good enough.

David reached out a hand beside him, summoned a shard of blackstone, condensed it as hard as he could, and cut it off from the ground. A sharp point wouldn’t do; it’d break against anything hard. A sword or spear wouldn’t do; he couldn’t make it dense enough to not shatter smacking something while also making it thin enough to be wielded. But a twenty-inch club, with a thick handle and a thicker head? The most classic weapon. And damn, blackstone was heavy.

It might last a few hits against rock or metal, maybe more. It wasn’t meera metal, but it was a shitload better than nothing.

He handed the club back to Daoka, and she clicked at him, tilting her head. She still had her axe.

“Pass it on,” he said. “The betrayers need weapons.”

“Do they?” Laoko asked, looking back. She walked ahead, the angels at her flanks. “You want betrayers armed? They are betrayers, David. Not trustworthy.”

He looked back. Naoko walked with Tacharius, and she looked David’s way long enough to give him a quick smile.

“We’re in this together,” he said. He crafted another club and passed it back. Daoka took it, handed it to Tacharius, and Tacharius gave it to a betrayer. David summoned another.

Laoko frowned, but didn’t push it. Moriah glanced back instead, wearing the same frown, but probably for a different reason. Angels had issues with the damned, and it was probably worse for betrayers.

David met Moriah’s eyes, didn’t flinch, and summoned another club as they walked. Like it or not, they were in this together, and he needed all the help he could get.

The imps and grems grew in number, too. They came out of tunnels no one even knew were tunnels, small holes the little creatures squeezed through, but David’s sixth sense mapped out their shape. Long, skinny little tunnels, some that could only fit a single imp or grem at a time; any caught meeting face to face would get into a major traffic jam.

The little demons followed beside him, getting between the legs of other demons. They were excited. Some looked at the volas and bigger demons with apprehension, but once they spotted the Las cheering and marching like a part of the group, they relaxed. They blended in, copied the Las, and mingled with the insane crowds. Some had weapons, some had armor, most didn’t, but that didn’t scare them at all.

If a lot of the imps and grems died, David wasn’t sure he could take that.

Caera had suggested the crew take the top step of the Scar, so they did. If the angels weren’t a threat anymore, it’d be easier to fight from the top where enemies couldn’t drop on you. And David was happy to get away from the deep tunnels. Each was a peek either into an ongoing sin-fest, with orgies and rape and murder and devouring hearts, or caves full of caged souls, begging for freedom.

Some demons took it even further than that, and the Hellraiser decor became even more fitting. Spiked chains wrapped around limbs. Hooks dug into flesh. The screams of the dying. Flowing blood. David could only take so much.

He closed his eyes against the memory and ground his teeth. When he was in charge, this place had to change. It didn’t matter that they were damned souls. Letting this sort of insane behaviour continue was unacceptable. Killing the damned for food? Fine. Torturing them for kicks? Not fine.

But how much could he change this place before the demons took issue with it? How much sense did it make to change it at all? They were damned souls. Some fuckers getting tortured were the absolute scum of the earth.

Naoko seemed okay, though. She seemed like she’d changed a bit. Or she was a sneaky woman manipulating him, like Caera thought.

Figure it out later. Get ready for war now.

David peeked down over the edge to the terrace steps below. More demons, more betrayers, and especially, more imps and grems. They all chatted among themselves, talked about the changes they were going to make when Tarkissa was gone, about how they’d no longer need to pay him tribute or bend over backward to please him and his demands. No more risky missions in the dens, getting demons killed trying to raise deadly hellbeasts. No more bringing him hundreds of damned souls he hadn’t earned, like bringing a fat king his food on a silver platter. Time for a change.

After a few hours of walking and a couple hundred clubs summoned, the group came to a stop. Priscillian had come to meet them, and he didn’t come alone. He’d come with a few volas, but it was the brutes, vrats, and gargoyles that were the problem. A satyr and two tigers, too, all wearing more armor than any of David’s demons.

Problem for Priscillian. He’d come with a couple hundred soldiers. David had a couple thousand demons. And sure, most of them weren’t ready for battle against some veteran soldiers, but there were a damn lot of them.

And David wouldn’t need them, not against these fools.

“So you’re the unmarked,” the incubus said. No need for introductions, it was obvious who he was, with a full set of meera metal covering most of his body, heavy metal chunks strapped to him with a complicated array of leather belts. He was big, for a volarin, with a huge sword hanging from his hip. Even the spade of his tail looked big. And a couple hundred demons stood behind him on the terrace step.

“I am,” David said.

The incubus came closer. Moriah and Laoko stayed in front of David. Caera and Tsila stayed at his side. Jes and Daoka were further in the back with the Las and Acelina, and the other demons congregated around them.

Conflict. This was going to be the first proper fight with Tarkissa’s forces. The beginning of the war.

“I’ve already sent word to Tarkissa,” Priscillian said. “This is your last chance to turn around and walk away.”

“You think you can stop us?” David asked.

“Dealing with the tetrad and the two angels will be difficult. You? Why would I fear a human?”

Oh. The demon didn’t realize David was legit.

David stuck his hand out to the side, summoned a spike of blackstone, molded it into a club like it was made of clay, broke it free from the ground with a silent note, and handed the club back. Daoka took it without question, passed it back, and the club disappeared into the crowd behind them to find another unarmed betrayer.

The incubus’s eyes widened for a moment. “You’re ... like the unmarked coming at us through the Red Pits, from the Navameere Fields.”

“I am. I figured the demons who spotted me fighting angels had rushed ahead and told you by now.”

“Word has reached my ears.”

Laoko laughed. “And you thought the demons were exaggerating.”

“I did.”

Well, at least this incubus was honest.

David pointed a hand at the incubus and summoned his armor. In a red glow, black metal encased David, replaced his red toga with spiky black armor decorated with small rubies, and red silk hanging from between the joints. A black wizard’s staff with spikes appeared in his hand, ruby jewel head already pointed straight at Priscillian. The incubus’s eyes opened wider.

“You have two options,” David said. “We fight, and I kill you all.” If he could do it without summoning the void aliens. “Or you let me pass, and I kill Tarkissa.”

Priscillian hissed. “You want to kill Tarkissa?”

“I don’t want to. I have to. He’ll stop me from passing through the Scar.”

Apparently, the volarin hadn’t heard about that part of David’s goal.

“You just want to pass through?”

“Yes.”

“Tarkissa might—”

“Even if Tarkissa said he’d let me pass, you know damn well it’d be a lie. He’d just be looking for an opportunity to grab me when my back is turned.”

The incubus shook his head. “You underestimate his capacity for negotiating.”

“Liar!” someone behind David called out. Tacharius stepped up and flicked his tail. “Priscillian is a liar. Tarkissa is a psychopath, and he’s only gotten worse with the decades. He can’t be trusted.”

“He can be trusted!” Priscillian took a step closer, but jumped back when Moriah raised a hand and summoned her armor.

A flash of gold lit everyone’s faces, faded, and revealed the mikalim in her gold, white, and silver armor, sword in her right hand, shield in her left. One wing still smaller than the other didn’t stop her from being terrifying. She pointed the sword at the incubus, blade so polished it was a mirror.

“The Heavenly Islands trust no spire ruler,” she said.

Intimidating, but the incubus stood his ground. “That’s funny, because angels visited Tarkissa only a couple weeks ago.”

Moriah lowered her sword. “Explain.”

“It’s a secret, but considering the circumstance, I guess I have no choice.” The incubus came closer and met the angel eye to eye, gave Laoko a few glances up, and walked between them and stood in front of David. “Angels from Azoryev and Yathael came to Tarkissa, and told him he should kill the unmarked. But Tarkissa is no fool. You can’t trust angels. They do not lie, but they do not speak the truth, either.”

He came a little closer. Laoko turned and looked down at him, but she hadn’t drawn her four swords yet, either.

“The angels want the unmarked dead,” Priscillian continued. “We don’t. Tarkissa wants to speak with you.”

David clenched his jaw. The angels wanted the unmarked dead, but only because that was the way to stop them from reaching False Gate and the Forgotten Place. Far as he, Moriah, and Tsila could tell, the angels left the other unmarked woman from the Navameere Fields alone because she wasn’t trying to do that, for whatever reason.

“Tarkissa,” David said, “wants to do more than talk to me. What has he told you?”

“I told you what he told me.”

“I don’t believe you. He and Azailia have plans.”

A moment of surprise cut across the incubus’s face. Got him.

“Azailia? What does—”

“You know what,” David said. Mia tactic. Say less than he knew and let the other person assume the worst. “This is your last and final warning, bailiff. Get out of my way.”

Of all the ways this could have gone down, this wasn’t actually too bad. David was half expecting Priscillian to show up with a colossal army, as if the man had spy drones and was keeping tabs on everything David did. But this was Hell. Information took forever to move, and that meant Tarkissa and his bailiffs could never communicate the extent of David’s actions, or even keep their information up to date. As long as David kept pushing forward, he’d catch them off guard.

“You don’t know Tarkissa,” Priscillian said. “If I let you walk on by, he’ll tear me open and put me on display on a wall. And he won’t let me die for weeks.” The volarin flicked his tail. “And your army is nothing but a bunch of lazy volas, and betrayers armed with clubs. What few real demons you have, I outnumber.”

The man didn’t even mention the thousands of imps and grems crawling along the mountain wall, perched on spikes and boulders, and flowing over the terrace edges below. What was it about imps and grems that made other demons not even recognize their existence?

Moriah aimed her sword at the man again. “If you don’t step aside, I will kill you. Do you think I need the powers of the unmarked to slay half of you myself? And our army will devour the rest of you.”

Priscillian sneered. “Says the angel with half a wing.”

Moriah took a step forward, but David got a hand on her and gave her a gentle tug backward.

“Or,” David said. “You can join me.”

Everyone looked at David and went quiet, eyebrows raised.

“What?” Priscillian asked.

“You’re here because you have to be. You’re here because you serve Tarkissa, and it’s your job to stop me and capture me. But I’m going to take the spire, kill Tarkissa, and make the province mine. And unlike with Tarkissa, you’d be a lot happier under my rule.” David came closer, only a couple meters between him and the incubus. “Zabulon, Tacharius, do you think I’d make a better ruler?”

“Definitely,” they said.

Priscillian squinted down at David, looked past him, and squinted at the hundreds of demons behind him. Taking stock. He looked up at Laoko, down at Caera, back at Acelina and Tsila, and back to Moriah too, eyes scanning. Maybe looking to see if anyone was willing to switch to his side? He’d looked shocked not only by the number of people following David, but by the fact he had two angels, a spire mother, and a bolstara tetrad with him. He wasn’t ready for this fight.

“Give me a moment,” Priscillian said, and he turned and faced his demons. A lot of heavy hitters, big demons with the scars and armor to prove it. They whispered with each other, cast glances back at David over each other’s shoulders, and flicked their tails if they had them.

Laoko leaned down to David. “You cannot seriously believe this is a good idea?”

“Why not? If they don’t want to fight, then their only real option is to join us, right?”

“They are loyal to Tarkissa.”

“You sure about that?” He motioned Zab and Tacharius forward. “You two know the politics here better than we do. If Priscillian decides to join us, or at least get out of our way, what do you think he’ll do after?”

“Stab us in the back, maybe,” Tacharius said.

Zab shook his head. “Priscillian wants power, and Tarkissa gave it to him. That’s why he’s loyal. Give him power and he’ll obey.”

“Maybe,” Tacharius said. “I agree he’s power hungry, but he thinks Tarkissa is the best way to get power.”