Frantically scanning the desert, Mark searched desperately for Horan. After seeing that the guards had, for some reason, allowed free passage across the canal, he had returned to fetch Horan and the car. Naturally, Horan had mysteriously vanished. As Mark, terrified for his prospects of wealth, stumbled through the desert, he heard several crunching and shouting noises coming from the bridge. Sighing, Mark changed course back towards the village.
As he jogged towards the village, hand on his stowed pistol, a falcon flew towards him from the village’s direction. When it was about twenty feet from Mark, it shifted back into the familiar seven-foot form of Horan. Instinctively, Mark drew his pistol and aimed it at Horan’s chest.
“Hey there, human who is pointing a gun at me and should probably stop since you already know who I am, it’s me! Your favourite guy!”
Mark lowered his gun. “What did you not understand about ‘stay in the car’?”
Horan raised his hands. “Oh, I understood perfectly. I just took your next command as permission to solve your problem for you. You’re welcome, by the way.”
Mark sighed deeply, almost dramatically so. “Okay, what did you do?”
Horan shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, I just convinced the guards that the queue to cross wasn’t worth their time. They clearly weren’t the sharpest swords in the armoury, so I went for something simple. Their boss is, um, dealing with them, and we’re free to cross.”
Mark hesitantly put the gun away. “So you mean to tell me, that you solved the problem?”
“Yep.”
“By yourself?”
“No other parties involved.”
“And you didn’t get into a fight?”
“Birds are very inconspicuous.”
“Uh-huh…” Mark narrowed his eyes and continued walking towards the village.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” queried Horan, shifting back into his human form.
Mark said nothing as he walked. Horan reluctantly trailed behind his ‘master’.
When the duo arrived back at the village, the street by the bridge was painted red with the two guards that had once been there. Captain Rong, breathing heavily and coated in blood and bone fragments, turned back to look at the duo.
“Um, hello. I just killed my moronic underlings, so I guess I’m guarding the bridge until morning. Do you two have the gold to pay the toll?” He picked a mangled pair of brass scales, flecked with chunks of meat, off of the ground. One of the plates fell off and clattered to the ground.
“Uh, excuse me for a moment.” Rong hurried back inside the barracks.
As sounds of the demon rummaging through the barracks’ supply closet emanated from the building, Horan leaned toward Mark.
“He’s not that fast. Think we should make a break across the bridge?” whispered Horan.
“We still need the car, you idiot.” Hissed Mark in response. “Figures you would mess things up. Great job replacing our fairly manageable obstacle with a much bigger, much more dangerous one. Real smooth.”
Rong’s voice sounded out from the barracks window. “Hey, do you two know where we keep the spare scales? Also, why do we have so many old DVDs? We don’t even have a player.”
Another, unfamiliar voice sounded out, much quieter. “Shao knew the answers to both of those questions, before you… did all those… things… to him.”
“Oh yeah,” responded Rong.
Horan scowled. “Fine then, let me fix this problem for good.”
Mark raised an arm between his ‘companion’ and the barracks. “You are not messing this up more than you already have. End of discussion.”
Horan pushed Mark’s arm down. “C’mon, I’m a Primus! What can you do that I can’t?”
“Use more than six braincells at a time. And handle a firearm.”
“I’ll have you know my arm has been on fire several times and I handled that just fine. If you’re talking about your human guns, I can absolutely use them.”
“Not without shooting your one remaining eye out.”
“Oh, please. I’ve been trained with virtually every weapon you humans have invented. I can handle a rectangle that throws metal balls really fast.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“That’s a renaissance musket that you just described.” Mark pulled out his pistol. “This is a lot more complicated than y- Hey!”
Mark was interrupted by Horan snatching the gun out of his hands. Horan pointed the gun through the window, through which Rong’s large, hairy form could be seen. “Point and pull the trigger. Simple.”
Mark tried in vain to grab the pistol out of Horan’s hands. “Give it back! You’re just going to draw attention to us. And how do you know it’s even going to work? That guy is huge!”
“Sure he’s big, but that doesn’t matter. This is pretty powerful, I’m sure it’ll do the trick either way.” He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He tried a few more times. Nothing happened. “Hey, uh, I think your gun broke.”
Mark suppressed the urge to throttle Horan. “The safety is on, you brain-dead disappointment.”
“I knew that!” Horan looked the gun over. He flipped the safety switch after finding it, pointed the gun back at Rong’s hunched-over form, before switching to his other hand. “Ew, a right-handed grip?”
Mark groaned. “Just take the shot already.”
Against his will, Horan’s hand contracted around the gun, abruptly pulling the trigger.
Between the recoil and the loud ‘bang’ that came out of the gun, Horan was caught very off guard. With a startled “Gah!”, he let go of the gun as it threw itself backwards to the ground.
A deep roar came out of the barracks. “THEY’RE ATTACKING THE CUTLERY CUPBOARD!” yelled Rong. Then came the sound of several armoured people scrambling to attention.
Mark wheeled on Horan, snatching the gun out of his hands as he pulled out the other pistol. “You missed! You actually missed!”
Horan shifted back into his Primus form and summoned a sword. “I don’t have any depth perception, I only have one eye!”
“He wasn’t even moving!”
“YOU SHUT UP!”
Rong burst through the barracks door followed by two smaller demons, looking dejectedly at the splintered remains of their doorway. With a roar, Rong hefted his battle-axe and charged at Horan.
Sidestepping past the charging bull person, Mark trained his guns on the two other mooks, who raised their spears in preparation. “This whole thing is your fault! Why do you always get yourself into a fight you need my help to win?”
Horan launched himself into the air and leapt over Rong’s swing. “Says you! We’re only in this situation because you insist on taking me down with you!”
Dancing between the two spears, Mark deftly shot the two demons in the head and throat. The latter staggered a few steps before collapsing. “And I’m still the one who has to do all the work! How can an immortal demigod be this useless?!”
Horan brought his sword down onto Rong’s head, who didn’t even flinch as the blade harmlessly slid off. “You shut up! I would have hit the guy if you hadn’t commanded me to shoot prematurely!” Rong’s powerful hands wrapped around Horan, pinning his arms to his side. Rong loomed over Horan and reared back his head.
Mark took aim at Rong. “And look at you now! I already took out the two others and you’re about to be killed by a talking cow, you IDIOTIC MAN-BABY!”
“RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”
A shockwave of wind erupted from Horan, blanketing the entire village, bridge and much of the canal in sand and dust. Several building walls caved in and Mark was thrown backwards thirty feet. Instinctively, Mark curled into a ball and bounced painfully along the ground, sprawling onto his back and skidding the last few inches.
When the dust cleared, Horan was surrounded by a small field of rubble, coated in sweat and breathing heavily. Mark got up, wincing from his skinned… everything. Slowly, he walked towards Horan, who just stood in place. Small chunks of cow continually fell from the sky.
Horan’s breathing grew ragged and the Primus fell to his knees. “Can’t… breathe!”
Mark picked up the pace and crouched down next to Horan. “Whoa, whoa. Try to think of something calming. Like, uh, a stream. A little stream in the woods, water flowing slowly over the rocks. It’s morning, the sun is starting to shine through the trees. Everything is quiet.”
Horan closed his eye began to breathe slowly and deeply. Eventually, he got up. “Alright, I’m good.”
Mark nudged one of the rocks nearby with his foot. “Is this the rock guy? What’s left of him?”
Horan looked around at the broken rocks spread around him. “I think so, yeah.”
Some of the local villagers hesitantly exited their homes. One old woman spoke up. “And what are your names, you two?”
Mark looked at the woman. “We’re, uh-“
Horan stepped in front of Mark, puffing out his chest. “I am Horan, rightful ruler of these lands! Fear not, humans, for you are no longer under the oppressive rule of my uncle Thel. All of you are now free to do as you please.”
The old woman frowned. “Well, now we know who to blame for wrecking our town and killing the garrison. Get him!”
One person picked up a piece of rubble from the caved-in wall of his house and threw it at Horan. Soon, the rest of the town joined in, throwing rubble and chunks of demon at Mark and Horan and shouting profanity at the duo. Hastily, the two ran back to the car, followed a short distance by the mob of villagers hurling insults and small rocks.
Exhausted, the two got back into the car. “I don’t get it,” panted Horan, shifted back into his human form. “We liberate them, and they drive us out?”
Mark shrugged. “Who says they wanted to be liberated? We killed the town protectors and damaged the town a good deal. We’re just a bunch of troublemakers to them.”
Horan sighed. “I guess so. This still sucks, though. So, now what?”
Mark placed his guns back in the glove box. “Wait, I guess. I’ll hurry across the bridge in a few hours, and we’ll be on our way. You look tired, you go ahead and get some sleep. Do Primoi need to sleep?”
He turned back to look at Horan, but the Primus was already strewn across the backseat, snoring quietly. Mark stretched and started his stakeout of the town.