The Moonrise clan killed all our sentries first when they attacked, which was exactly what I would have done and also a pain in the ass to have used against you. For days now, Phlox’s warriors had been sprawled over the hilltop, so we had a lot of perimeter needing to be watched. And enough soldiers had grumbled about guard duty that our oh-so-glorious leader had toned down shifts, not long before the enemy demons hit us that night.

Phlox the self-proclaimed Great had overruled my concerns. He claimed a few sentries would be enough to see anyone coming up the hill, and that I’d told him it was stupid to attack a fortified position. With the rapid gains we’d made in territory and manpower, he’d become comfortably bloated with pride, boasting that no one would dare attack his Obsidian clan.

Aconite’s wolves coming out of the woods might have been enough to deflate his confidence, if either of us witnessed the battle's initial phase. As it was, I didn’t realize the attack had started until screaming was coming from all around my tent. Thesmothete Aconite could have brought her whole host up to sweep through us en masse, with the lookouts who’d have seen them massing already dead. She wouldn’t have managed it so easily if Phlox had ever understood what fortified means.

The screams were heralded by a rushing fwoom and a wave of heat that rustled my tent’s walls, sharply drawing my attention. I swung my heavy pack up over my shoulder, arming myself with my crossbow and dagger and moving to the outside. The crackling of flames was audible before I could see the source of them, and reaching out for my tent flaps I wondered what was going on. Aconite’s troops relied on physical prowess, large-scale fire Arts should be beyond her clan. And while Phlox could have done it, I hoped even he wouldn’t set our own camp on fire.

Stepping outside was pushing into a wall of sound and heat, the primal roars of triumphant demons mixing with the screams of their victims. Dark figures stalked the night among our tents, distorted by heat haze and illuminated by leaps of flame. They hadn’t been set aflame like what looked like half our camp – had that really been a single fire attack? – but this still couldn’t be comfortable for Aconite’s troops, so many covered in fur and no doubt drowning in the heat.

Bugbears – large, brown-furred and shaggy – reached into tents and yanked out demons by the neck or ankle. Their smaller green-skinned goblin cousins swarmed around their heels, and a barghest, one of the vast black dogs that guard goblin tribes, savaged one of our pale little pirus. The forest sprite shrieked beneath the demon dog’s fangs, grasping desperately for a weapon that couldn’t help her now. Aconite’s kishi, eerily human in body but with snarling hyena faces on the back of their heads, ripped mouthfuls of meat off the large horned hares that were our jackalopes. And though I couldn’t see them now, wolf howls carried through the night, the triumphant cry of Aconite’s fellow rougarous.

Night attacks. Even against a race as comfortably nocturnal as demons, they were a powerful tactic to leverage in warfare. Everyone had to rest sometime, and convention was to do so during hours when not all of us could see. If you wanted to hit a force with its pants down, this was one of the best ways.

“Commander Anthurium!” Yarrow, a centaur and one of our staff officers, rushed towards me. His chestnut coat was smoldering and his white cravat was askew, but his eyes showed true panic, this chaos and carnage overwhelming to a mind used to nothing scarier than paperwork. “They’re all around us, they’re tearing through the camp! Ma’am, what can we do? What are your orders?”

Even in confused situations like this – no, especially in times like this was when a skilled tactician could shine. “They haven’t reached the inner camp. Get our birds airborne for eyes in the sky, rally the gargoyles and ushi-oni.” Those giant ox-faced beetles were heavy cavalry and would struggle to maneuver in a flaming campground, but they could be a living wall of meat even for stone-skinned gargoyles. “Gargoyles form up in a flying wedge and hit the goblins from the air, the ushi can reinforce them on the ground. The goblins should break easily under that concentration of force, and the bugbears won’t last once they’re outnumbered. Our soldiers will form a perimeter defense once they’ve drawn attention, they’re sturdy enough to hold out a while.”

“In the meantime, have the manticores form a firing line by the supply tents, send volleys at any enemies out in the open. Our cerastes should burrow and guard the ground around them to snatch anyone who gets close.” I did know the winged, scorpion-tailed lions wouldn’t be tempting to charge at anyway. But having a burrowing snake demon lunge up and start strangling your friend would be even more disincentive for Aconite’s troops to try. “And have the manticores conserve their spines; the longer they can keep the enemy pinned down, the more time we’ll have to regroup.” I hesitated a moment, but spoke again. “And if the battle turns bad, then no matter what Phlox says have our troops surrender. No point dying if it’s a lost cause.”

I could see Yarrow drinking in each word to commit to memory, and he gave me a sharp salute with a slightly manic smile. “Yes, ma’am!” He turned on his hooves to go execute my orders. Thankfully, not seeming to consider why I’d given him responsibility for that last.

As soon as Yarrow turned his back, I turned and ran full tilt in the other direction. Those tactics might buy us some time, but I knew the battle was already lost. And I was not about to die for an incompetent slug like Phlox, nor would I go and grovel at Aconite’s feet.

Phlox hadn’t emerged from his own gaudy tent, and under the strain of attack no one else questioned where I was going. Nearing the edge of the woods, pale tree trunks dimly lit by the distant flames, I slowed my pace, opened the third eye possessed by all demons, and steeled myself.

Nearly a thousand demons’ auras flared to life in my mind’s eye, and I clenched my jaw at the corresponding throb of a thousand pinpricks in my forehead. Maybe over a thousand if we’d taken fewer casualties than I thought. I shut my sixth sense back down as fast as I could, pushing away guilty thoughts of the familiar auras I was leaving behind me. But I’d learned enough from a glance. All those demons were behind me, so my exit would be clear.

Thank gods. I’d had my doubts, but it seemed Aconite had left the back of our camp open, not enclosing us completely. Well, she was shrewd enough to understand the enemy will fight harder if they have no hope of escape. I pulled open my pack and extricated my heavy iron lantern, focusing my meager mana to form a spark on my fingertip. My own power was less than probably any of the auras I’d seen, but it was more than enough to light a candle, and save me from an ignominious death breaking my own neck in the dark.

The lantern’s cone of pale light swung with it in my hand, illuminating bushes full of berries in shining red, black and blue, countless wildflowers whose pastel blooms painted swathes of color as I ran past. It was an odd incongruity of Hesperia, realm of demons; the more we spilled each others’ blood, the more of our namesake life bloomed from the bloody soil.

Battles were always loud affairs, but as I was retreating down the hill, far enough that I could nearly ignore the sounds of killing, something shifted in the timbre of the battlefield’s tone. I slowed and stopped, unable to put my finger on it, and turned around.

On top of the hill, backlit by dancing flames, I could see countless shadows scurrying, moving at barely-perceptible angles, but enough to recognize a flight when I saw it. So much for organizing a surrender, it seemed the battle had become a rout, and any demon warlord would pursue the fleeing troops of a rival. “Fuck,” I swore, looking around quickly. Finding what I could recognize as a cedar tree, I wrested off a thinner branch with a crack, leaving bits of injured green wood as I blew out my lantern. The last thing I needed was to be found by one of Aconite’s hunters, or killed by one of Phlox’s side for deserting slightly earlier than became acceptable.

Poking my way along with a walking stick was much less efficient than running, and I tried to will my eyes to adjust faster to the dark. Hearing footsteps and hoofbeats and snapping twigs getting closer, I told myself, heart in my throat, that all I had to do was reach the river. It was at the bottom of the hill, curled around its base, and in the water even canid demons couldn’t catch my scent.

My ears pricked up as I heard a familiar voice on the edge of my awareness. I couldn’t make out words yet, but hastening downhill I looked around for a thick tree and placed myself behind its trunk. Now I just needed them not to smell me, but as they got closer and I recognized words and speaker, I realized that wasn’t a concern.

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“Need to get away, please, Suanil, let me get away,” a woman’s high voice gasped as she rushed past me, her breathing ragged, twigs crunching under claw. Corydalis, one of our scouts; an avian birdfolk who resembled a human-sized blue jay and a very nice girl. What was she doing here? Why was she walking instead of flying?

I’d hoped that she would escape with the other birdfolk scouts, once the battle turned hopeless. Watching her stumbling silhouette, I saw her left wing dragging on the ground, and put the answers together just before a snarl ripped through the night.

Cory looked back and screamed. A large shape leaped at her and slammed her to the ground, growling and huffing low barks. One of the rougarou, Aconite’s elite troops; while I’d only seen her in a humanoid body, these others nearly always stayed in full wolf form as heavy cavalry. They were strong and tough, but skilled pursuers too, as poor Cory was seeing now. Her screams reached a fever pitch between sounds of ripping flesh as the rougarou tore into her.

I found myself staring, a sick feeling suffusing me and twisting my stomach. Should I help her – no, I couldn’t fight a rougarou myself, and I wouldn’t escape if I got its attention. All I’d do was get myself killed too…

The vast wolf stopped its feast, Cory letting out a weak chirp, and raised its head with an audible sniff. Keen yellow eyes turned towards me in the dark, and my heart stilled.

We looked at each other for a second before it huffed, and from the flash of fang in the moonlight I could swear the wolf grinned at me.

“Please…” I heard Cory’s thin, pain-laden plea, before she let out a horrible groan as the rougarou turned back to her, more wet chomps and slurps sounding out through the night. It seemed the wolf was content with its current feast.

I walked away, guilt filling the pit of my stomach, as Cory’s voice faded to desperate whines, and then to nothing at all.

It seemed the rout was disorganized, as most are, so however many demons scattered over the hill, most didn’t cross paths with me as directly. Still, I caught glimpses as my night vision adjusted and heard sounds of more scuffles around me; a yowling catfolk cornered by two fiery-eyed hellhounds, a half-goat satyr bleating frantically as a snake-tailed lamia swallowed him whole, a gargoyle striking down goblins with loud, cracking blows before the rest leaped at her eyes and overwhelmed her.

I just kept going, finding a path through the trees, making my way down the hill. The battle had already long been decided, my actions wouldn’t make it any more or less of a victory for Aconite. The wood was thinning out now, the slope flattening to a plateau, and I could see moonlight glint off water ahead. I just had to get a little farther…

There was another whoosh and rush of heat on my back, blowing hair in my face as the night turned markedly brighter. Shit, was this Aconite’s mystery fire-user? Had they caught up to me?

“Anthurium!” An angry bellow bounced off the trees in ugly bass, fire crackling around it. “Where are you, you traitor?! Show yourself, in the name of Phlox the Great!”

Oh. This might actually be worse. I grimaced, and turned to look back at my egomaniac ex-boss.

Phlox was a demon I’d always thought resembled a slug, but without the charisma. His brown body was squat, wrinkled, and low to the ground, with a wide mouth and beady black eyes adorning his face. His arms were disproportionately small compared to his body, and I’d never been clear on whether he lacked any legs or if they were buried underneath his girth.

Surrounded by burning trees and brush and showing not a bit of discomfort, Phlox growled, squinting his eyes as he looked around the woods. The earth beneath him shifted, flattening to a slick trough, and his body shot forward with alarming speed, overrunning a bush and smashing through tree branches. He grunted and spat out a few fronds, unbothered by the collisions.

Yeah. He really didn’t need legs, and it was a pressing problem for me right now.

“I know you’re not far, I can sense you! Come out right now, or I’ll burn you to a crisp!” Phlox roared, and I took a couple quiet steps back, keeping cover between us. He clearly hadn’t spotted me yet, and I’d take indiscriminate burning over fire thrown right in my face.

Besides, if I’d intuited something correctly, all I should need to do was wait and avoid being crisped.

“Where were you when they attacked, you weak little mongrel?!” A tree next to me exploded into flame, and I jerked back, thankful I’d learned to keep my hair up near Phlox. “We would be the victors here if it weren’t for you!”

I ground my teeth at that, glaring at the demon. Phlox was a prime example that power was in no way correlated with intelligence or common sense. He would never have gotten this far if it weren’t for me, and I didn't know what I'd been thinking to offer him my service. But I kept all that to myself with effort, just continuing to slowly back up.

“How much did the wolf-bitch offer you, whore? She got lucky tonight, you know she could never match me,” Phlox continued to rave as the temperature rose around us, and I could feel sweat dripping down my face. “Rrrgh, I should have devoured you when I first had the chance!–”

A wolf leaped from the woods and hit Phlox full-on from the side. It would have snapped his neck if he’d had any to speak of. Instead he turned, glared, and breathed a stream of fire at the beast. The wolf’s fur went up like a torch and it fell away with an anguished yipe, falling to the ground and twitching.

But another rougarou pounced on him, clawing at his eyes, and then another struck him and started mauling his arm, and bit by bit, at least a dozen shaggy demons literally dogpiled him, gnawing through his thick skin and bearing him to the ground as he shouted in pain and rage. Even the best Thesmothete could be overwhelmed by sheer numbers, and Phlox was far, far from the best of warlords.

For my own part, I sighed in relief; finally. With all the noise and fire he’d been making, Phlox might not have realized what a target he’d made himself, but I certainly had. It was just a matter of time before Aconite put out the kill order. With that taken care of, I turned back towards the river and froze.

Thesmothete Aconite was standing there, smiling at me. She was a tall olive-skinned woman with a silver-furred wolf’s head on a lean, muscled body. She had no armor or weapon, only loose clothes that were little more than rags, but I had no doubt she could tear my head off before I moved.

“There you are. Strategos Anthurium.” Her voice was low and husky, near a growl even in this mostly-human form. “I suppose I might owe you thanks for your assistance with… this.” Her voice dripped disdain as she looked over at Phlox, still roaring as her best troops continued to maul him.

I nodded silently, very aware of my position and not trusting myself to speak. If she had changed her mind…

“Why not give you my thanks in the form of a head start.” She grinned, and I could see the fangs among her teeth. “Run away, little prey. I will enjoy hunting you.”

And that tinted my vision red with anger. So I still wasn’t worthy of the slightest respect? Not even a threat in her eyes, just one more weak demon to toy with, playing with her food. Fine. I didn’t know when I’d be back, but Aconite would regret not killing me.

She didn’t try to stop me as I weaved around her towards the river. I cinched my pack tightly shut, grabbed my lightweight wood staff-slash-flotation device, and plunged into the freezing cold.