The Warlord

Chapter 36: Lera

The warlord and the prince sleep, passed out on the ground behind me, faint and deep breaths coming from their mouths. I remain watchful, my feathers still visible, my demon form still half there. Something darts in the corner of my eye, and I whirl to find a snickering imp, trying to stick its head through the bars so it can poke and torment my companions with its horns. I curl my claws and snarl, my eyes blazing with territorial irritation. It yelps and pouts before backing off, disappearing behind the rocks.

I settle back down, keeping my ears alert. I am lucky that nothing too big has strolled by, such as an ogre or a black dog. They would be harder to scare off, and probably would not leave without a bite of my fellow prisoners. For the next few hours, Hell lies dormant, save for the constant sounds of screaming and crackling fire. But then the hazy mist around the cage starts to lighten and lift, and I sense the presence of two beings.

"Wake up, warlord and prince." I place a hand on both, causing them to stir and groan. The sound of clothing shifting and legs scuffing the ground echoes in the unusual silence. They both sit up, the prince rubbing bleary eyes, the warlord with a hand already clasped around her dagger.

A hand reaches from the mist and waves it away in one clean arc, revealing our two visitors to be the king of Heaven and the abnormal god from before. The latter sets me on edge, the godly part of his aura sending prickles along my spine. But the king is something else entirely. There is something repulsive about the way he has mashed the two powers together, making them fit like pieces in a perfect puzzle when they really are jagged bits of glass that wish to scrape away at each other. I cannot stand to meet his gaze without feeling sickened.

"King Varlock," Calthius croaks from behind. "We have a proposition."

"Oh?" The king steps closer, his hands clasped behind his back, feigning eagerness. "And what might this be?"

"Allow these two to go free," the warlord says, rising to her feet.

"But what good will that do for me? There is a reason I have all of you locked up." He strokes his beard, amusement dancing in his inhuman eyes.

"I am a fierce warrior, one of the best in Serestine," the warlord responds, making sure not to oversell herself. If we appear too eager, he will suspect something is wrong.

"And why would you want to stay?"

A bitterness seeps into her tone, so harsh and cold that I wonder if she is still acting. "The queen of Serestine threw me away. I disobeyed her, and now she wants nothing to do with me. There is no place for me on Serestine, whether it be the palace or the battlefield. I have nothing left to live for."

I can see the king's mind ticking away like clockwork, flitting through possible outcomes and strategies; the benefits and disadvantages of our deal. I hold my breath as he stands silent, looking at the ground when his eyes glance over our party of three. He is wondering what will happen if he lets me and Calthius go, and how we measure up to the warlord.

"Vey well, I accept. I will allow the familiar and my son to go free, on the condition that you remain, warlord," he says with a cruel smile, his eyes glinting with an arrogance that suggests he knows something we do not.

"Swear it. There must be security in your word." The warlord does not move to accept his outstretched hand.

The king's grin only grows wider as he responds, "I swear on my mother, Harmony, that I will uphold my end of the bargain."

The warlord's mouth presses into a flat line as she steps forward and clasps his hand through the bars. The deal is done, and I release the breath that I have been holding. Do not get ahead of yourself. The journey is still long and treacherous. The king makes a simple gesture, and Calthius' chains snap. I help him to his feet, draping his arm over my shoulder so he can support himself. Another wave of the king's hand, and a set of bars appears around the warlord, while the door to the cage opens for me and Calthius. I can taste freedom in the air, and we hobble forward together, exiting our prison. The king steps aside, the grin still on his face, while Zarul's expression is unreadable. Something bothers me about the easiness of securing the deal, but I brush it away. He swore on his mother; a serious oath for any being to take, even one such as himself.

I take one last look at the warlord, a silent question forming on my features. Was this the right decision?

Her face betrays nothing; only hard and heavy determination. Yes. Do what must be done. I will survive.

My own mouth presses into a flat line, and I turn away. I find myself facing endless dunes of red, and a thick, scarlet mist. But the energy from the exits call me, and with a battered prince, I stumble forward.

"It will take us about six hours to reach the nearest exit. Are you up to the task?" I ask Calthius, his breathing growing more and more ragged by the second.

"Yes," he chokes out. "We must reach my mother as soon as possible. I will be fine."

"Here, a spell to ease the pain." I let him kneel on the ground before stooping to face him. Placing a hand over his chest, I murmur, "Knit what has been torn. Sow what has been ripped. Bring back what has been undone." A warm glow spreads across his bloody skin before quickly fading. The prince lets out a gasp of amazement and stands, flexing his fingers.

"What did you do?" He asks incredulously.

"A little bit of witch magic. Had I used my own power, I might have Corrupted you." I drape his arm around my shoulder again as he stumbles forward, almost tripping and falling into the sand. "Careful. It is not a strong spell, and will not last long. You will still need my help."

He grits his teeth with resolve. "I will make it. Now, lead us to the exit. It's time we leave this mess of a realm."

I nod my head in agreement. A battered prince and a feathered familiar walk through Hell, leaving behind the warlord to the mercy of the king.