Kapitel 6: Unlikely Allies

Artam was finally free.

The cave around them was oddly silent except for the occasional clash of swords and the roar of the demon. The air was thick with the stench of sulfur and burning flesh, a scent that clung to the walls and filled Artam's lungs with every breath.

'There's also this fog sowing fatigue.' Artam mused.

The battle between the old knight centurion and the demon raged on, a clash of steel against infernal might that echoed through the stone. The knight centurion was struggling against the demon's unnatural strength.

Each time the knight struck, the demon retaliated with claws and flaming sword. The knight was being pushed back, and his strength was waning as the battle dragged on.

Artam's gaze shifted to the slave boy who had given him the key. The boy was young, no more than eleven yearly harvests, with a slender build that spoke of a year or two of malnutrition and hard labor.

The boy's chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath, his thin frame trembling with exhaustion.

Artam studied the boy. Dark skin and short wooly brown hair, light brown eyes, and a rounded face, with a weak, slender build.

He searched the boy's ankles for the Naldean slave mark but saw none.

Disappointed, he kissed his teeth in annoyance.

'His parents were probably citizens that fell into slavery out of debt.' Artam inferred.

His gaze drifted to the struggling veteran. 'I have to run, else I'll be killed likewise' he brooded, before turning to address the boy.

"Many thanks, but we best be on our way lest we turn to demon food." He had already decided on taking the boy; two could accomplish more than one, and who better than the boy who made his freedom possible?

The boy nodded, swallowing hard. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might draw the demon's attention.

Walking over to the wagon, Artam replied;

"Come help me pick some supplies."

The boy nodded and followed suit. As they dashed towards the wagon, The wagon jumped and moved a good quarter foot.

Then he saw the wagon, Four men were chained inside an iron cage. Artam ignored them and plundered supplies from the wagon.

One was flinging himself against the bars, blood running down his arms from reopened wounds. The second screamed curses, kicking at the bars. "Boys!" he cried. "Sweet boys! Come free us!"

Another threw himself furiously against his chains, and the last called out from the back of their small prison. "Boy! Sweet boy! Is it money you desire? Free me, and I'll give you"

"Good boys, kind boys," they called all alike. "Get these fucking chains off!"

Artam ignored them. "You go get any food supplies you can find. I'll search for clothes and weapons." The little boy nodded in agreement.

"You won't get far alone, boys! Save me, and I'll help you!" one of the prisoners cried.

Artam could hardly care. And why should he? They'd have done the same to him, or worse.

He continued gathering supplies along with the little boy. Storing as much as they could in a leather bag they found.

The boy paused and looked at Artam with pleading eyes.

"We have to help them," he said "The seventeen texts implore us to help them"

Artam frowned,

"The seventeen texts? Did the seventeen texts save you? Or did you save yourself? Did they save you from becoming a slave? No?" Artam pulled the boy closer and spat with venom. "The seventeen texts won't save you, neither will I, and not even them. Save yourself!"

Turning around, he went in search of a weapon and Maybe a coat and some boots. Soon after, he was garbed in a fur coat, with whisper tucked into one of the pockets, and leather boots with a sword that was too large for his malnourished frame.

The old veteran lasted longer than expected, but alas, his mount buckled and collapsed, and the old man was thrown off the horse, retreating while blocking blows from the demon.

Artam rushed back to the wagon to see the little boy, he had decided to call dandy because of his looks, Dandy had released the prisoners.

"For fuck's sake!" Artam bellowed as he approached the wagon.

Two of the prisoners had already escaped, taking whatever they could carry with them. One of the remaining two drifted over the fallen dandy, trying to pry his leather bag from his grip.

The other was rummaging the wagon for anything else.

Artam spoke calmly "Leave him be." Brandishing his sword, "Or I'll cut you."

The man, as he approached, the details of his appearance became clearer. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, his frame suggesting the build of a fighter, though he had been worn thin by captivity. His clothes were tattered, and his face was covered in a scraggly beard that did little to hide the deep-set lines of exhaustion and despair.

"Now, no need to point that little sword at me, lad. We're all on the same side" His voice tinted heavily by his Midland accent.

He took a step closer to Artam,

"Don't! I'll cut you!" Artam yelled, but the man didn't halt his advance.

Artam huffed in frustration and charged at the man, but the man remained calm and Tsked softly.

Sidestepping Artam's attack before landing a solid blow in his gut. Artam fell to his knees, gasping for air.

The blow from his weathered fist nearly knocked all the air out of his lungs.

He talked over him as he lay hurting, but Artam could not seem to understand the words.

He took his sword. The shame of that cut him deep.

Then he was violently jerked to his feet, face to face with the prisoner.

"Me and the scribe over there just devised a plan, and best think not of escaping." He turned to look at the raging storm outside the cave. "Those two would die to the cold, get killed by legionaries if they managed to get far, or be killed by the demon after it's finished us."

The scribe spoke up, "We have to help the old man. Now you'd either aid us or my friend here the sellsword will slit that throat of yours and toss your corpse down the mountain." He paused, "Now nod if you'll aid us"

For a while, Artam did nothing, until the sellsword whacked him with the butt of his sword.

"Yes!" Artam nodded in agreement. The scribe stared at him, squinting his eyes narrow before a nasty sky smile was etched on his face.

"Good lass," he said, and the sellsword let go of Artam. Then slapped him a good hard one.

"That's for trying ta kill me," said the sellsword.

"But you punched me in the gut a short while ago." Artam protested, but the sellsword was having none of his whining.

"Aye, I hit ye." He raised his hands in a threatening manner, "and I can do it again."

He looked at Artam's feet and noticed the mark. "a Naldean aye?" He spat, "Did your masters teach you how to talk back?"

Artam shut his mouth and looked at his feet.

"Enough of this! The demon won't know who's a sullied when it slaughters us all" the scribe spoke, before inhaling deeply " I am Lomen"

The sellsword fastened the stolen sword, "Name's Pale face..." he said looking at the demon, " Bah! I might die anyways....Eryk, a sellsword by trade. You?"

"Artam," Artam replied, inclining his head slightly. "And this is—" He turned to the slave boy, realizing he hadn't yet learned the boy's name.

"Jeren," the boy supplied, his voice quiet but steady. "I'm Jeren."

Both Lomen and Eryk furrowed their brows and said nothing.

Eryk gave the boy a nod of acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on the boy's gaunt frame. "Well met, Jeren. You've got more guts than most grown men, lad." He shrugged his shoulders, "I owe you my life."

"There's no time" Lomen cut him off, grabbing a thick bundle of the chains. "We need to help that soldier"

Now a small band of unlikely allies, they turned back to aid the old knight

Some time has passed in the cave. The knight had been forced to the very mouth of the cave. The demon loomed over him, its claws flashing in the dim light as it prepared to strike the final blow.

Or so it seemed.

Eryk had snuck up on the demon after pretending to be a corpse near the wagon. In his hands, he had the chains. Gathering all of his strength, he swung and threw the chain in the air, as a spearman throws a javelin.

Lomen planned to place the loop around the demon's head.

In the last moment, the demon flinched back, and the chain loop landed perfectly around its neck.

A second later, it tightened, acting as an Iron noose. The demon froze for a moment, not believing its eyes. And then ground his teeth, ready to pry open the loop or cut the chains.

Then the sound of frantic hooves echoed from deeper within the cavern. The mad horse's eyes rolled wildly in its head, and its body was covered in foam and blood. Fear and madness had given it a desperate strength, and it bucked and kicked at the air, seeking any escape from the nightmare it found itself in.

Artam– who had managed to get close enough, had reached out and looped one end of the chain around the horse's neck, securing it as best as he could, before hurriedly running away. The horse snorted, its breath coming in harsh, ragged bursts. Then it galloped towards the cave's mouth, practically flying and then narrowly dodging a swipe from the demon. The horse galloped past the evading veteran, and then it was in the storm.

As if Artam's prayers had been answered, the roar of mighty thunder and the flash of its lightning illuminated the sky. The frightful horse slipped and fell. Carried by its momentum, it skidded off the road and fell off the mountain down into the abyss. The chain pulled taut, and for a moment, it seemed as though the demon might simply snap it like a thread. But it was yanked back with tremendous force, flying like a rag doll.

The unlikely allies were filled with triumph.

With quick thinking, they managed to use the chain to ensnare the demon, anchoring it to the mad horse that had been spooked by the chaos. The horse, wild with fear, had bolted toward the edge, dragging the demon along with it.

But the demon wouldn't be so easily defeated. It clung to the edge of the mountain road with an unnatural strength, pulling loose rock as it fought to hold on.

It seemed it would not die.

Not yet at least….