I had only been the latest and the last in the Free Folks’ attempts at overthrowing the demigod that now lay before me in a heap of metal and rotten flesh. It had been made clear, that no expectation of success should be held, and that I would leave with the sure knowledge that I would most likely never return. Even with all the magical gear I had accumulated before my departure, guided by the vague words of an old prophecy, my chances of success had been abysmal, and I’d made sure to write a watertight will for the few things I’d left behind.

Imagine my surprise at still being very much alive and kicking, the emperor having taken my place instead. This surprising but welcome turn of events set in front of me an entirely new collection of problems however: there hadn’t been a need to plan an escape, much less a return journey.

I lay in the ruins of a dead demigod’s throne room, my weapons disintegrated, burned to ashes or lost in the rubble. My body and mind were temporarily crippled by potent elven healing drugs and I was surrounded by an army of imperial soldiers. The odds were – once again – not in my favour.

The magical sword and I had made quite the mess of the palace, leaving behind death and destruction in our wake. I glanced around: the once pompous throne room had turned into a mess of fallen pillars, scorch marks and debris. The gilded throne on its raised platform had been the first victim in our drawn out fight, turned into rubble within seconds of our first engagement. The ground was littered with the bodies of the emperor’s royal guardsmen and some unfortunate souls sent in as reinforcements or to investigate the noise.

This moment in time was only a brief respite, I was sure. In time, the raised alarms would lead the rest of the palace’s garrison to storm the throne room. I had no time to waste. I closed my eyes for one heavenly second, then opened them again, weary as they were, and quickly jumped to my feet. Too quickly, as evidenced by a spell of dizziness so strong I almost fell right back to the ground. While frantically looking around thinking up a viable escape route, I divested myself of the ruined remains of my once ornamental and quite magical armour.

The scorched gauntlets would only get in the way, so I removed them as well. The heavy reinforced boots I kept, however. There might still be a ward or two remaining on them. The mail shirt below my armour had practically disintegrated when its wards had been shattered, leaving just a few mail links fused or stuck to the light clothing I’d put on underneath.

I heard more shouting coming from the hall’s great doors where I had entered from. Soldiers had started throwing themselves against the sealed doors, to no avail. A massive stone pillar lay blocking the doors. It wouldn’t hold them off for much longer however, and I was in no condition to fight again.

***

I turned around to one of the smaller stairways leading away from the throne room and started running with all the energy I had left, which felt barely like anything at all. I could only hope the guards were unconcerned for their master’s well-being and therefore wouldn’t bother to start blocking off the exits. The emperor was supposed to be immortal and invincible after all. I stumbled on the first step, violently hitting my shin in the process.

The crystal powder still kept me from feeling any pain luckily, but the dizziness seemed only to grow worse. While ascending the stairs in an uncontrolled sprint, I assessed my situation as well as my addled mind allowed: The magical sword, my greatest weapon – perhaps the greatest weapon of all time, in fact – was gone.

The suit of irreplaceable armour I had claimed from the first elven king’s tomb had all but disintegrated. The legendary daggers bestowed upon me by the king of Kadonia himself lay somewhere in the great hall below, probably buried by a foot of rubble.

I had even lost track of the magical bow the kobold kings and queens had gifted me in a rare show of unison. After firing the first few arrows at the emperor’s throat, hitting and exploding his throne and two royal guards instead – I had dropped it somewhere and lost track in the ensuing chaos.

My conjuring ward was empty as well, no more crystals to be summoned, no more magical herbs or potions or anything else for that matter. Defeating the emperor had taken everything I had brought with me. It’s not like conserving resources is on the forefront of one’s mind when running into an unwinnable fight after all.

I reached the top of the stairs, my somewhat blurry sight showing one pompous corridor straight ahead and one crossing left to right. No servants. They must have been scared off by the unholy ruckus of an evil demigod emperor fighting for his life. I tried to remember the layout of the castle, but my mind refused to cooperate. The plans I had carefully studied and hammered into my memory, had turned into a blur of confusing shapes.

No time to think. I took the corridor straight ahead, my feet almost tripping me once again on the carpeted floor. There were doors to both sides of the corridor now, all looking quite similar. I tried one on the left, pushing open the door impatiently.

Behind the door lay an unoccupied bedroom, with a single artful window on the other side. Other details I didn’t register between the darkness and my haste. A few strides and I could look outside, right onto the jagged cliffs below, barely visible through the darkness of the night. Wrong side – of course. I rolled my eyes. I stumbled out of the room again, having to steady myself on the open door to avoid falling.

I stilled when I heard the approaching shouts. The guards must have redoubled their efforts at hearing their emperor’s cries of death, because even in my current state of mind I could clearly make out the soldiers moving toward me at a frantic pace. At least a dozen judging by the sounds of heavy boots impacting the ground and voices shouting orders. They were heading right toward me and I still had to find a way to the other side of the palace, perhaps into the gardens and then… I shook my head: no time to make plans. It was time to improvise and lay my faith into the grace of whatever deity kept finding it so entertaining to put me in situations like this.

I turned away from the soldiers, back to where I had come from. When I reached the stairwell again, I turned left and thundered down another carpeted hallway. I ran past door after door and a series of alcoves and niches whose contents my woozy mind failed to retain.

A few dozen stumbling paces later, a great, solid double door lay in front of me. To my relief I managed to recall the necessary information: this would be the room of the war council above the throne room. I remembered the imposing windows, visible distantly from the courtyard. Perhaps there would be a path onto the shallow part of the palace roof from there. I threw myself at the doors, momentarily panicking when they refused to give way.

The sounds of boots and shouts behind me grew louder. Right before falling into hysterics, I remembered to try pulling instead of pushing and one of the doors slid open. I ventured not to think about the embarrassment my eternal soul would have had to endure had I been bested by a set of doors. I was sure, somewhere out there at least one god was laughing hysterically at my misfortune. Right when I stepped into the room, I heard the shout.

A loud, angry voice bellowed behind me in the refined language of the empire: “Over there! Come back here!”

I needed no further confirmation to conclude: I had been spotted. My fleeing figure must have been a frightening sight to those guards: scorched and bloodied, and dressed in strange clothes.

I threw the doors closed behind me, hurriedly looking for something to barricade it with. I quickly pulled a colourful banner off the closest wall where it had been arranged into an X with a second of its kind. With all the speed I could muster, I jammed the pole between the rings acting as handles, connecting the two doors in the process. I turned the pole and the rings around as far as was possible and jammed the pointed end against the wooden floor.

A quick glance at the room’s content revealed a myriad of decorative weapons affixed to the walls – none of which looked at all practical to me at the moment - and a great oval table and expensive heavy chairs in the centre of the spacious room. I sprinted around the heavy table, not trusting my legs to jump over it, proceeding toward the nearest window. Right when I caught my first glimpse of the blue tinged palace roof and the courtyard far below, my pursuers reached the door behind me. The shouts grew louder when the doors refused to give way. Threats and orders were directed at me, but I gave them no heed, focusing on my escape instead.

The windows were made of thick glass interspersed with fine decorative ornaments. I intended to shatter the nearest window with my boot. The drug induced haze made me look more like a stomping cow than a renowned warrior however.

On the third attempt, one of the panes finally broke apart, raining shards of irreplaceably expensive glass art down onto the gleaming wooden floor and out into the night. The sun had set a while ago and it was rather unlikely somebody would see me from below if I descended onto the roof, at least. My bigger concern was the detachment of guards behind me. I hastily climbed atop the window sill and leaned into the chilled night air. Errand shards of glass crunched beneath my heavy boots. Looking down I could just about make out the blue roof tiles about two or three feet below.

No way back now. I lowered myself down onto the roof, glancing back into the war room once more, just in time to see the banner pole I had used to barricade the doors, slip out between the rings that were supposed to hold them. I had hoped for more time.

I turned to my right and started running across the roof, paying no attention to my rational mind screaming at me and reminding me of what would happen to my body if I lost my balance. Solid ground was at least 60 feet below me now, if I had to make a guess – not a height I would likely survive falling from. I was unsure whether any of my remaining clothes had relevant wards that could save me. One false step and my journey might be concluded within seconds.

Shouts from the war room behind me reminded me of my lack of options and I resumed my mad dash across the roof, the odd tile breaking away under my heavy boots and leaving a convenient trail for my pursuers.

Looking around me, I could see dozens of torches illuminating the ground below, and some on the walls. Frantic shouting and a horn being blown completed the picture of abject chaos. In the distance I could see one or two lights flitting across the roofs as well. Luckily, the part of the roof I was ungracefully running across was safe for now, at least in front of me – behind me was another matter.

I would have to find a way from the palace roof back onto the surrounding wall, perhaps then I could make my way back toward the gardens beyond. There was a gap of more than a dozen feet between the roof and wall, but the portion of roof I was on, was significantly higher. So high, in fact, surviving a successful landing might just be the bigger issue. I reached the end of the roof in front of me and slowed.

I could see the roofed wall below and my stomach sunk: it was far too steep a drop to survive uninjured. My boots had been engraved with magical wards to protect the wearer from such a fall, but I had no idea whether they were still intact after the beating I had recently taken. Looking behind me, I could see the shadowy outlines of people climbing from the window of the war room and making their way toward me, shouting. I frantically looked left and right, hoping to find a slightly lower roof, but to no avail.

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To my left lay only a deadly fall back to the courtyard, while to my right, the roof extended in a straight line further around the central palace building. I tried to sink back into the comfortable numbness induced by the crystal powder while I slowly backed up. Behind me, the sounds of heavy boots on roof tiles grew louder. Just a few more seconds and my pursuers would be on me. A good dozen steps of run-up would have to suffice.

I started sprinting, focusing my mind entirely on my feet, lest I trip before even attempting the jump. Too soon, my right foot reached the edge of the roof, and I pushed off. Somewhere behind me, the soldiers came to a halt when they saw my shadowy form shattering the roof tiles at my feet with a powerful leap into the darkness. I was too busy panicking to spare them another thought however. The cold air parted for my uncontrolled flight, stinging my weary eyes like needles. It almost felt like flying, until my trajectory reached its zenith, and the descent began.

I hadn’t had much time to calculate how much of a leap would carry me to the wall, and somewhere within my panicked mind, I felt a small amount of relief when I sailed right toward the wooden roof of the wall, feet first. The rest of my conscious was too busy fretting over the landing. I didn’t have much time to prepare for the impact and the broken bones it would surely bring with it, because in an instant my feet connected with the wooden slats. I was unsure whether the snapping sound coming from my feet was caused just by the splitting roof, or by my ankles. Instead of stopping, to my surprise, I descended further, passing right through the layer of roof – now shattered – toward the top of the wall below.

When my feet impacted with the stone, I could scarcely see through the haze of dust and wood splinters surrounding me, though still I managed to fall into a forward roll, hoping to save my legs from further damage. When my head was upright again, the momentum was still enough so that I almost fell right over the battlements.

I managed to stand, which probably meant my bones had been preserved by the boots’ runic wards. I decided to postpone my jubilation of this fact, however. I coughed a few times from the dust cloud I had brought with me, quickly stepping away from yet another pile of rubble left in my wake. Behind me, the shouting had grown louder and I had a bad feeling my pursuers wouldn’t stop their attempts of reaching me.

I quickly looked around: further down the wall to my left, I could see a small group of armoured figures running toward me, swords and shields in hand, though they were still a good few seconds away. Had I not caused so much noise in the palace proper, I’m sure the walls would be crowded with soldiers by now, so I counted myself lucky to have found an unoccupied piece of wall to land on.

I was positive now that the wards on my boots would protect me from being harmed much by the drop off the wall, but I had to make sure to land in a safe spot. A quick look over the battlements showed me a group of soldiers below, running for the gate. I turned to my right and started running with elven speed, though still not the grace to go with it.

Every now and then, I glanced over the wall outside the palace toward the open ground below, but kept running when I saw no trace of the gardens still. It had to be further along the wall. Seconds later, I could see and hear an arrow heavily impacting the stone in front of my feet, while another one must have impacted the wooden roof above me. At the time I didn’t notice the two of them that had struck true – my drugged mind kept the pain away from me, and the effect of the impact I could easily attribute to my compromised sense of balance. It must have been the soldiers on the roof behind me, having given up on reaching me directly.

I had no time to wait for the next volley, and so I flung myself off the wall, hoping I had made it to the edge of the gardens already. Knowing my boots would absorb the impact took nothing away from the terrifying experience of falling freely into the darkness yet again. When I landed this time, I decided to forgo the roll and simply started sprinting.

In front of me, the palace gardens lay stretched out, a maze of hedges, flowers, all sorts of statues and finely sculpted pillars. I rushed behind the next best line of hedges and tried to stick close to them while advancing further away from the wall.

The shouts behind me slowly grew more subdued in volume with every step I took away from the palace. Nobody would be insane enough to follow me down the wall, and there wasn’t nearly enough light to allow sending projectiles at me from up above. Instead, I could now hear the sounds of my heavy breathing, rasping unnaturally before escaping my lungs. I was pretty sure by then, that I had been injured again during my escape. I was equally as sure, that the crystal would keep me alive for now, and so I opted to save any inspection of the damage for later.

The grinding of gravel beneath my feet sounded too loud now, exaggerated by the drug induced high that slowly enveloped me, more with every passing second. Soon I would be unable to think clearly, my mind soothed to submission. I had to get away, and I had to make it quick.

I could see the tall metal fence surrounding the gardens now, could almost feel the sense of freedom beyond, when I heard more voices. I quickly ducked behind a marble statue made to look like a gigantic frog with sharp teeth and a feline tail. I almost shied away from it, remembering my last encounter with the very real cousins of this piece of rock.

I forced myself to remain still, watching from the shadows as a patrol of guards hurriedly passed by my hiding spot. There were 5 of them, dressed in the red and gold tabard of the imperial guard, two of them carrying another soldier’s body.

I recognized the dead one: I had taken him out earlier in the gardens, before I had made my way over the wall. He now hung limply between his comrades, his torso and legs covered in bloodied bandages. The crystal quelled the guilt, as it always did, and so I watched the guards speeding away from me toward the main gate.

Just when I figured I would be safe and started hurriedly turning around with full force, something caught on the statue. Something connected steadfastly to my back. Something made of wood, producing a loud noise when it snapped in two, widening the wound it was buried in further. Half of the arrow fell to the gravel and my sense of dizziness just about doubled.

A quick but awkward sweep of my hand across my back revealed the splintered remains of one arrow and a second shaft further down, almost sticking out of my side.

The soldiers meanwhile had stopped in their tracks at the sound of breaking wood, turning around with their weapons drawn, quietly communicating with each other; too quietly for me to hear. I carefully leaned my head out from my hiding place to see what the soldiers planned to do, and I saw them staring in my direction, squinting in the light of their torches, curiously speaking in hushed tones to the dead one in their middle.

I noticed my error then: I would’ve realized sooner had my mind not been altered as severely by the crystal’s magic. The soldier the others had carried between them was not, in fact, dead. The bandages should’ve given it away. Instead of facing any number of gods who might have taken pity on his soul, he looked around in panic and started muttering.

He looked frightened out of his mind, which should’ve made me feel bad about myself, I noted. I was sure the regret would find me in time. The wounded man didn’t bother drawing his sword, he just cowered to the ground and started whispering quickly to his comrades. I recognized a few words, among them “demon” and “dead”, which gave me an insane idea. I was suddenly reminded of that time, some years ago, when I had fought an actual demon.

She’d had a flair for the dramatic and I was sure I could imitate her obnoxious blabbering. I congratulated myself for the idea, though had I been clear of mind, I would’ve been a lot less sure about the outcome of my plan.

I moved further behind the statue and righted myself out of view. I quickly ran my hand through my scorched hair and flattened my fine elven garments, plucking a few of the remaining chain links from it. Despite everything, I would still look quite mysterious to a common imperial soldier who’d likely never stepped foot outside his home country.

I took a long breath and stepped out from my hiding place, somehow succeeding in keeping my balance. I placed a mischievous smile on my lips and happily sauntered toward the edge of the light cast by the soldiers’ torches.

Upon seeing a shadow approach from the darkness, the soldiers came to attention immediately, aiming their weapons in my direction, but not attacking: their fallen comrade had succeeded in sowing the seed of fear in their minds; I just had to let it grow into something more.

I stepped into the light just enough so my face would be recognizable and stared at the wounded soldier on the ground, smiling broadly though without a trace of kindness. I tried to seem relaxed, aided by the inherently calming feelings pervading my mind already. The wounded soldier, had seen me clearly now and started tugging at his companions’ clothes, his words now loud and clear

“It’s him! The demon has returned to finish his work!” he wailed.

He started crawling backwards in a panic as I slowly circled around the edge of the light. His crawling stopped, and when his back hit the tall statue of an eagle taking flight, I forced myself to smile yet more widely.

“What a pleasant surprise; rarely do I get the chance to kill a man twice!” I eyed the soldier on the ground, tilting my head so the heavily pointed tips of my ears became better visible.

“Not another step!” another soldier called out with a noticeable tremble in his voice.

He pointed his sword at me, though his arms shook. I moved my gaze up to the soldiers still on their feet and broadened my smile into a toothy grin

“And I see you’ve brought me quite the feast! I accept your offering and shall consume your soul quickly and with little agony, mortal.”

I swept my gaze across the group “though the same cannot be said for your friends. I shall enjoy their cries of pain.”

I took another step forward and the soldiers matched it with a wary step away from me. The man on the ground had clearly heard enough and had managed to stand up just so he could start limping away at a speed belying his injuries.

“You stay and die if you want, I’ll take my chances running.” he shouted at his comrades, who looked at each other nervously.

I let out a quiet laugh “You should listen to your friend. I so enjoy chasing my prey.”

I advanced another step and decided to play my last card: I halted suddenly, as if reminded of something.

Then I shook my head and muttered “I almost forgot. Such pesky creatures, stinging with their little wooden toys.”

Seemingly without care, I grabbed the arrow still sticking out of my lower back at an angle, and with a deft tug and no apparent reaction, pulled it right from my body. The dizziness was almost too much, but I forced myself to stay upright. With any luck I’d be able to lie down soon.

I carelessly threw the bloodied arrow behind me and turned my attention back to the soldiers. That had done it: another soldier started running outright, while the others stood staring in shock. I advanced, my steps now fast, my relaxed posture removed entirely, and the rest scattered as well, some cursing loudly, others muttering quick prayers.

When the last soldier had disappeared, taking with him the last remnants of the torchlight, I slumped to my knees, breathing in and out deeply for a few seconds, forcing the tiredness away once more, though I didn’t know how much longer I could stave it off.

I had never felt so dizzy before, and when I raised myself back to my feet, I immediately fell to the side. I almost fell into a hedge, though I managed to turn the fall into a clumsy leap across the obstruction. On the other side, I grasped onto a branch and steadied myself.

I gave my body a few seconds to find its balance again, then I started stumbling into the darkness toward the small gate leading out the side of the palace grounds.

***

Later, I would remember very little of what else transpired that night, just impressions and disjointed images. I remember making my way to the small gate set into the gleaming metal fence around the palace grounds

I remember jubilation at the lack of guards, and I remember forcing the gate open by throwing myself at it a few times. There were images of people staring at me from the dark as I left the palace grounds, stumbling as if drunk. Though nobody tried to stop me.

And I remember what I suspect must have been wild fever dreams: an incoherent mass of images, of a giant in shining armour bearing down on me with a dozen swords at once, and of wielding my sword only for it to turn into dust in my hands. And then everything else turned into dust as well, quickly dissipating and leaving me falling into a black void for what seemed like an eternity.

I kept falling, expecting to hit the ground any second now, but I never did. I remember spending a lifetime falling in this silent void.

At some point, much later, the terrible darkness around me changed. Still falling, I saw glimpses of home, of cozy houses in the mountains, though the air smelled not fresh and crisp as it should: it smelled of fire and of steel. And then my home, too, turned into dust, leaving me enveloped in darkness again.

Not much later I fell past a series of scenes in quick succession: my hand clenched around a sword while I descended from the mountains, running from something. My stumbling body slipping and almost being flung into deep chasms beneath the rocky cliffs. Evenings spent under the light of a meagre fire, eyes cast to the horizon.

More memories appeared, many involving the hazy outlines of a multitude of people, though I couldn’t for the life of me recognize any of them. I saw more scenes flash by: a set of regal faces of all cultures and ethnicities, all staring down at me with grave expressions.

Then a horse trotting down a dusty road, carrying me. The same horse falling to the ground, when a toad almost equal in size seized its leg with pointy teeth. There were more images, most of them of evenings spent in the wilderness and some of fights, though I can’t recall a single one of them in detail

The last image was of me standing on a cliff side staring into the distance, across an ocean of fire and scattered bones. My eyes were fixed to a great building amidst the desolate wasteland: a palace decked with great blue roofs, and in it – I knew – he was waiting for me.