CHAPTER 24

“No Longer Top Dog”

August 12th, 2040: Somewhere in The Elven Forest, The Opiekun Księstwo

Running, jumping, climbing, Faylen never felt more free than when navigating the forest. The massive trees as old as time itself made navigating on the ground completely obsolete. With four squirrels tied to her waist, swinging from a branch and stepping onto another, there was enough food to feed herself and Liv. Just before she was about to jump from a large branch and onto another, her senses picked up a noxious but all too familiar smell. A smell that had plagued the forest for months. Following the pungent smell and slowly working her way to the ground. Faylen was greeted with a scene she had seen many a times over the past few months, though this one was quite different.

In front of her, was a steel carriage that had been driven straight into a massive tree, hard. With the entire front being crushed inwards, she readied her bow and tentatively walked around to the opposite side, only to reel back in shock as to what was causing some of the noxious smell. Sitting on the ground and slumped against the side of the steel carriage in a pool of red blood, was a human corpse. Dressed in dirty green and brown spotted clothing, soaked in red blood. Faylen then noticed the long metal pipe weapon in the human's lap having a few small splatters of a dark purple liquid. Inching closer to the corpse and with her nose protesting every step closer, she slowly tipped the human's head up and let out a shriek. Not from the three distinctive slash marks across the man's face, but from the multiple spots of the dark purple liquid.

“Lesser Demons? This far south?” Faylen stepped back from the corpse then re-evaluated the scene, with it now making much more sense, an ambush. Looking more carefully at the ground, Faylen tried--then stopped trying to count all the small brass cylinders after the hundredth one. With both red and dark purple blood being in patches around the steel carriage, it didn’t take long for Faylen to find two other human corpses, one with their back cut open most likely from running, and another who didn't have any apparent cuts but being found next to a tree with a sizable dent, she concluded it to be blunt force that killed the human.

Finding a small red blood trail that didn't seem to have an end, Faylen continued to follow it through the underbrush. Along the way, Faylen noticed that whoever or whatever was bleeding, was moving as fast as they most likely could with an injured leg from spots of ground being dug up from scraping, in a mostly straight line with the trail going through bushes and other foliage. Still, with no corpse found, Faylen's mind began to wonder again as to why the Lesser Demon hadn't pursued this wounded creature. It was only when her sharp hearing picked up the sound of running water did she quicken her pace. If it was a human, and they were smart enough, they would walk in the water to break the trail--making this a massive waste of time. Breaking through a large bush, Faylen finally reached the source of running water, a river. Although at a glance, the movement of the water seemed far too fast to simply forge through anywhere, and the blood trail had made a sharp right turn and followed the shallow, rocky, river bank. However, with spots of mud, she saw that whatever was bleeding was indeed a part of the common races, as distinctive boot prints were pressed into the mud.

“Just how far did you run?”

Having only to follow the river for a short while, Faylen’s ears once again picked up another noise, this time the crackle of a low burning fire. Continuing to follow the river around a right banking angle, she saw across the river, a small clearing next to the river bank. A low fire crackled; and next to it, in the river, were multiple stones sticking out of the water, making it the perfect place to forge across. With great care as to not fall into the fast-flowing river, Faylen crossed, and with her bow readied, she examined the fire. With multiple half-burnt branches, whoever made it wasn't too far off… maybe too close.

“Make any sudden movements and I’ll drop you.” A male voice from inside one of the many bushes.

“You are injured and not equipped to deal with Lesser Demons, let me help you, human.” Faylen responded. After a short pause, the male voice responded with a more emotional tone.

“So that’s what that fucking thing was, no wonder .277 didn’t do shit. Why should I trust anything you say?” Hearing this, Faylen opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself. They were right, what reason do they have to trust her? Making a rash decision, Faylen threw her bow to the side, then simply sat on the ground.

“Is… this some joke that I don’t understand the punchline?” After a moment of silent compilation, the voice spoke again. “Fuck it, I really have nothing to lose, do I?”

Walking--or rather hobbling out of the foliage in front of Faylen, a man dressed head-to-toe in the exact same dirty green and brown attire as the other humans, looked down at her. Looking at his left leg, Faylen immediately noticed a white fabric wrapped tightly around his upper thigh, and just above that a black fabric-like strap also wrapped around his leg.

“Army Specialist Holloway, United States Army.”

“Faylen. You are an American, correct?” Tilting her head slightly, the question made Holloway a bit confused.

“Last time I checked, yeah, I’m still an American citizen. Point being?”

“I have a royal decree from Lady Nephinae Qinrie saying that all Americans are to be gathered and sent to our capital city, Świecące Światła. Though, with your injury you will need to stay at Niebo Village until you can properly walk again. With that said, I do wonder. Just how did you escape from a Lesser Demon?”

“Ah well, I… fired a flare at it.” Reaching for something behind him, his left hand pulled out a small red object. “Usually, you’re not meant to fire this at anything alive, but I didn’t exactly have a choice. I think I got it in one of its eyes?” Holloway watched on as Faylen stared blankly at him before shaking her head and scoffing.

“Well, Lesser Demons are known for being difficult to bring down. But that still doesn't answer why it--” Stopping herself when her ears picked up a strange deep grovel in the distance, she shot up. Making half of Holloway want to point his weapon at Faylen, and the other half wanting to point in the direction that she was looking. “Seems it is not done hunting yet. May I retrieve my bow?”

“Begrudgingly, you’re in better shape and more experienced than me. What’s the plan?” Holloway asked.

“Since you have been marked, there is no point in hiding or running to Niebo Village, we can only stand our ground.” Retrieving an arrow, she readied her bow and scanned the river bank as the grovel turned into a growl.

After what felt like an eternity. The nature around Holloway and Faylen became deathly silent, as most creatures held their breath or quickly escaped as the Lesser Demon approached. Finally, Holloway could hear rustling in the bushes from across the bank, and moving out from a dense bush, the Lesser Demon showed itself. A large sabertooth-like creature stared at Holloway with hungry eyes, its saliva dripping from its mouth as it could not properly close it from the oversized teeth. Faylen then noticed that the American wasn’t lying about hitting the Lesser Demon. A noticeable burn mark and two white eyes on the left side of its face made that very clear.

“So, where the fuck do I aim?” Before Faylen could respond to Holloway's question. The Lesser Demon seemed to scoff, then slowly walked up the river, looking for a less problematic meal.

“Fascinating. I knew some Lesser Demons were seen to have some level of intelligence, but I have never seen it with my own eyes.”

“Well good thing too. I wouldn't have been much help anyways.” With a light laugh, the weapon in his hands made a loud click sound. “Got no ammo left. This is just a really expensive paperweight now.” Halloway then took a quick glance around the area. “We should probably get moving to… whatever village you said.”

“Neibo, and yes I believe we should before night closes around us. Come, it is not far from here.” Setting off downstream of the river, Holloway took off his weapon’s sling and began a slow, but steady hobble after Faylen.

A Few Hours Later…

Finding one of the many small dirt footpaths that had been created by both fauna and common races, it has sped up their travel time however Holloway still needed to take infrequent breaks to make sure his leg wasn't getting worse. Though this time, he lost his balance and stumbled to the ground.

“Are you ok Holloway?” Quickly rushing to his side, Faylen was brushed off as he used a nearby tree to prop himself up.

“Effects of blood loss, how far are we from this damn village so I can get something done about my leg?” Looking down at his left leg, that side of his pants was nearly completely stained red with blood.

“We are not far, do you require assistance?”

“Find me a branch long enough that I can put my weight on it.” Not wasting a single moment, Faylen dashed off into the woods and not even a minute later came out with a long, slightly curvy branch that went up to her neck. “Thanks.” Taking the branch, Holloway put his rifle’s sling back over his chest and started to walk again.

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“A rifle? I have never heard of such a weapon before.”

“Well to be precise, this is a XM5 Assault Rifle. I cannot go into details about, and frankly I don’t want to right now. But this is the standard issue for the army, while our other branches use their own respective firearms.”

“Your military uses multiple coats of arms?” Faylen questioned, the thought of such a thing sounded way too expensive to keep standing all the time.

“Yeah, we have the army, airforce, marines, navy and coast guard. What about your nation, or should I say kingdom?”

“We… are not really a kingdom--we are simply too small and do not have the strength to give ourselves such a title. We are more of an alliance between the common races and while we do have a ruler, we rarely have anything significant asked of us.”

“So more or less, a confederacy? Interesting.”

The small talk didn't last long until the duo was finally greeted by the forest slowly opening into a more sparsely wooded pasture, and at its center, was Niebo Village. Utilizing the largest trees, spiral stairs winded up the trees, and catwalks were built across the branches, leading to well over two dozen buildings of different sizes and shapes. And through it all, the village was alive with activity. From giant, muscular beastkin hauling logs, to normal human women toiling away with sowing and working away in a nearby stream with washboards. It was then, and to his left, he saw a group of children running around, holding sticks. However, rather than using them as swords as Holloway expected, the children would periodically go “Bang!” and “Pew!”.

Metal mounds and bombard sounds through the orchard way

Tearing up and breaking down I think they have come to stay

Soldiers much bolder left to smolder through the orchard way

Churches ground and pounded down wherever will we pray

Demons screaming I wish twas dreaming through the orchard way

Son and daughter left to wander nowhere else to stay

Metal mounds and bombard sounds through the orchard way

“That’s…rather dark, don’t you think?” Slightly unnerved by what the children were singing, Holloway turned to Faylen “Is that song about us?.” In response, Faylen chuckled.

“I do not believe it was aimed at you Americans. Rather, it is about the similar weapons used by an empire far to the south--past the steppe and into the desert. I believe they call themselves… Samraj? No...Sam--Samraat! I think?”

“So, Sam and his rat went off and made a kingdom?” Immediately jumping on the chance to take the piss out of the name, Holloway smirked at his terrible joke. Faylen returned a blank stare.

“Oh wow! Hey guys, look!” Within seconds, Holloway and Faylen were surrounded by the group of children, with all of them gawking over the American.

“You Americans use firearms, right? Are yours better than the ones from the south?” One boy with what Holloway had to guess were wolf ears and a very bushy, gray tail chimed.

“Well. I would be very surprised if they can beat the XM5’s 800 rounds per minute.” Seeing no harm in showing off his rifle. “This masterpiece is the pinnacle of 250 years of American gunsmithing innovation and experimentation.” With star-struck eyes, the children continued to stare at the rifle--to only be shooed off by Faylen as she quickly reminded Holloway of his leg. Trying to not notice the multitude of stares from passersby. Faylen stopped in front of a small house and knocked on the door, with it almost immediately opening.

“Ah, Faylen!” Without hesitation, a sheep demi-human lept at her with open arms.

“Good to see you too, Liv. However, I have an important task for you.” Motioning to Holloway who simply gave a friendly smile.

“Oh my! Quickly come in and I shall dress that wound at once!” quickly darting back into the house Liv immediately began readying a spare bed, along with the medicine needed. Hobbling to the door, Holloway stopped just before going in and turned to face Faylen.

“I don’t believe I properly thanked you for saving my life.”

“Do not thank me, but Lady Nephinae Qinrie. Once you are well rested and able to walk, we shall continue our travel.” With that, Faylen turned to leave.

“Wait, one more thing… in my rush to save my life, I didn’t have time to grab the dog tags from my brothers, these things we wear around our necks.” Reaching into his shirt he pulled out two silver metal plates with some inscriptions on them. “It is used as an identification item if a soldier is disfigured, or in this case an item that can be sent to the families for some closure. Could you… get these for me, please? I already hate myself for running when Sergeant Copeland got sent flying into a tree, I couldn't face their families without having something to give to them.” Seeing his eyes becoming crystals and reflecting light. Faylen returned a reassuring smile.

“Of course. The fallen should always be treated with the best possible respect that can be given. Give me a few days and I shall bring them to you. Now, go rest. That is a command.”

“Yes ma'am.” Returning a cheeky smile before disappearing into the house. Faylen was then left alone to wander the streets. “I should head to the tavern, I need a drink.”

With golden hour on the horizon, Faylen could already tell that ‘The Flying Owl’ was going to be packed again. Pushing through the large double doors, she was immediately greeted by the hustle of servants and the loud conversations.

“Look who decided to show up! The woman who once again saves the life of an American!” One patron shouted, with many in the tavern returning a cheer. With nearly half of the tavern floor looking at her, she returned a smile.

“I simply follow the instructions that were given to me by Lady Nephinae Qinrie. Moreover, we had a confrontation with a Lesser Demon. Anyone have anything to add?” Slowly the noise level winded down hearing this, with idle conversations being mumbled.

“Aye! Rotten corpse tried to attack my caravan, the cheeky bugger!” A small, round man exclaimed. “Gave that no good thing the dwarven greeting. Knocked out a few teeth I think!” Getting a few laughs, the mood was still soured by the news of Lesser Demons now roaming through the forest.

“There are greater powers at play to worry about more than a simple hound-dog, dwarf.” A raspy, old voice echoed from the farthest end of the tavern. Sitting at a run-down table, three black cloaked. “I hear from just outside the forest, and to the northwest. The Plusieurs Kingdom has fallen to a power that openly taunts the gods.” With everyone's attention now on the three cloaked figures. They looked at each other before continuing their story with a song.

The sky darkens In the cold where the broken drown in sorrow

Sorrow

Sorrow

Upon the ground sit damned souls hoping for the morrow

Morrow

Morrow

From above no tears are shed though below are many to borrow

Borrow

Borrow

In a cage of iron sits an unlikely hero

One of hundreds stolen, food for the barrow

Deep as the pit and darker still is a hole to hell

Many a child passes through each ajingle with bells

In the bowels you can hear each soul claimed with a distant jangle

While they toil ever deeper, ever searching for a body bound in bangles

Wife of a foul lord, sick in and out

Sleeps with fitful dreams though soul without

Taken low and bound with brass

Even to the dead an outcast

Son ever looking for what was lost

Took no heed of the cost

A hundred souls paid with more still to be claimed

Innocents taken, broken and maimed

Today of days the son was to claim his prize

One for which he agonized

Dried yet pale there is no mistake

Tis the mother of a drake

Shimmering black, broad and fierce

Scales stronger then any steel, a heart never to be pierced

As he gaze upon his prize

Shapes descend from the skies

‘Tis beast?

Nay

‘Tis magic?

Nay

Then what descends the skies this day?

Foriegn contraptions from a foriegn land

Matters not to the drake, fight is at hand

Screaming from the sky

Metal winged birds release a cry

Fire flies

Flies

Flies

Through the storm the son takes flight

Crushing, rending through the night

Weak and weary sits the drake

The last bird falls and ground shake

Mother and son finally reunited

Ignoring the peasants now ignited

In the midst of the blaze sits one untouched

Knowing he will do what he must

Bars burn, shackles rust

Forward he walks in ash and dust

A sword upon the ground is found

Short in size, upon the pommel a hound

Eyes of gold and hair of white

Rose from the man an angelic knight

As the two embraced that day

They see a figure walking with sway

As a puppet on a string

Sword is raised, though a pitiful thing

A gasp, close to a laugh

Passes from the mothers calf

A jet of flame obscures the ground

In the blackened spot stands the hound

Sword aglow with heavenly light

The son takes to flight

Bearing down upon the hound

Muscle, sinew and bones howl

Smashed by the weight of a massive claw

Yet the hound stands tall

Sword alight with holy fire

Fueled by the souls of a heavenly choir

With slow determination the blade passes through

Claw, flesh and scale, its mark is true

A blackened heart to match a blackened soul

Pierced as the dead take their toll

Upon the ground an unmoving son

Mother screaming tries to run

From the ground brass is found

Lifted gently she is bound

Down and down her screams echo through the barrow

Cursing the hound down to the marrow

Collapsing as though strings cut

Lay the body of a child, sword still clutched

Once finished, the three figures took a drink from their mugs, then their leader turned to the crowd again.

“The ones who control the drakes, are to not be tested nor tried. For devastation followers wherever the drake flies.”