Friedrich scurried through the grass, keeping as low as he could. A squad of demons were marching up the mountain path towards the castle and he had nowhere close by to seek good cover. Realising that running too fast would only get him spotted, he desperately sank his nails into the soil and dug himself a hole and slotted into it, pouring as much of the dirt back over himself as he could.

The marching footsteps and clanking armour grew closer and all Friedrich could think was that in Kai’roh, he could easily sink beneath the sand and in Mercia, where the soil was less dry and dense, he could have dug a deeper hole in the same amount of time.

The demons were no more than two dozen feet from him now and, to Friedrich’s relief, they did not stop to investigate the small bulge of dirt-covered fur that was sitting within the grass. Perhaps they thought it was a rock or perhaps they didn’t notice it at all, but in any case, he was safe for now.

Poking his head out from the wiry grass, Friedrich watched the demons continue on their way to the castle. For what purpose, he did not know, but they were also his best bet to seeing an open door. In human form, he was still wearing the demon driver’s armour which closely matched the marchers.

No, that was foolish. They may not have noticed a half-buried creature, but a man wearing armour and with grey soil panting his face that joined their party from out of nowhere? They would certainly realise that he was an intruder within seconds. He would have to come up with a more sensible plan once he saw the castle up close. And with that thought, Friedrich looked down the slope to ensure that no more demons were marching up and then slinked after the platoon, keeping well back.

The path was winding as it curved up the mountain, but there were no forks and splinters for either Friedrich or the demons to concern themselves with. So focused on their march were the demons that not a single one of them looked over their shoulders even once. And, as they reached the gate, only then did they slow before stopping a few yards back to allow it to open.

“Kelshma!” cried a guard from a small window above the doors, which then began to grind open.

Friedrich watched the guard in the window and used every small opening he could to creep forward. Once the doors stopped moving, the platoon of demon soldiers continued their march inside and the guard above ordered the gates be closed. Now was Friedrich’s best chance.

He hurried up behind the marching demons, clinging close to the back of the last demon’s feet. Again, the demon did not look back, and the guard did not notice Friedrich following the unwitting soldier inside. The doors came to a close and Friedrich hugged the wall as the demons marched on and through the double doors at the far side of the corridor that took them to the courtyard.

Breathing a sigh of relief that he was inside and alone, he now had the difficult task of tracking down Pheston. But, perhaps, it would be less difficult in the dim light of the corridors. Willing himself to return to his human form, Friedrich then stood tall in the driver’s armour and walked on ahead.

On the walls either side of him, sat a door, while straight ahead lay the courtyard. He opted for the left door and was met by a spiral staircase that ascended a tower. He thought for a moment, realising that this must be the way to the guard at the window and his unseen lackeys who opened the doors.

Keen to avoid any living creature that was not the old smith, he turned and headed for the right door. He was surprised to see a small armoury before him and strolled inside, closing the door behind him. He looked from sword to pauldron, from breastplate to gauntlet, wondering if any of these were enchanted and he could make use of them.

“If Marina was here, she’d at least be able to sense some magic coming from these,” said Friedrich under his breath.

He walked up and started rummaging around, holding a few of the more oddly shaped items to his ear. He didn’t know whether to expect them to be humming or buzzing, but not a single one made a sound. The only sound made was when he heard the twitching of the doorknob and he turned into a fox to hide amongst the assortment of equipment.

“Terdruth,” barked a demonic voice, waiting for a response.

Friedrich didn’t move a muscle.

“Kalmeran,” said the demon, walking forward with slow footsteps. “I…know…you’re…here…”

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Friedrich was alarmed to hear his own tongue being spoken by the demon and knew he had to act. He scurried between the gear and leapt up from behind the demon, turning back into a human as he did so and smacking the infernal creature in the back of the head with his shield.

The demon tumbled into a suit of armour and strewing it across the floor. As the demon rolled over, a sharp sword was plunged into his skull, killing him instantly. Friedrich looked around in a panic and dragged the corpse into the back corner. He then grabbed a few armour stands and slid them in front of the demon.

“Greedy,” he spat to himself. “So bloody greedy, Friedrich. Priorities.”

He walked from the room and marched as the demons had done, making for the courtyard. He opened the doors and made a rigid beeline straight for a set of doors at the far side, ignoring the other demons.

He didn’t even take the time to look at what they were doing, figuring that it was best if he looked to be a man on a mission—not that he knew if demons cared about interrupting their brethren. Friedrich walked along a large shadow on the ground, caring not what was causing it, and only stopped upon reaching the doors.

As he opened them, he heard a distinct chortling behind him, but refused to look. Whatever was so funny, he hoped it wasn’t him, and continued about his business. He stepped into the next corridor and closed the door behind him. Worried that he would be followed, he took the path to the left and continued marching, all the while feeling incredibly silly. He thought perhaps he should take some acting lessons next time he was back in Mercia.

As Friedrich marched past another demon, the demon turned to him and cocked its head to the side. Before he knew what he was doing, Friedrich skewered the beast through the throat and shoved him inside an empty room. The last thing he needed was more commotion.

After continuing his wandering and drawing little attention, he heard a distant distinctly human scream that made him freeze on the spot. Where had it come from? He knew the voice well, although he had never heard its owner scream before. Pheston was close and he was in trouble.

Friedrich turned into a fox and waited, knowing that his pointed ears were much better at sifting through sound than his rounded, human ears. After a short while, there was a pained groan that echoed through the corridors and Friedrich bolted off, not caring that demons would see him coming should be pass any.

And pass them, he did. He followed the sound and another yell told him he was going in the right direction. As he ran, the demons gave chase until he reached what he sought, a staircase leading beneath the castle. Friedrich turned back into a human and placed the minotaur mask on his face, taking on another one of his forms as the four chasing demons closed in on him.

Thinking they were able to outmatch him with their superior numbers, they swung their curved swords with confidence, but it was confidence that wildly outmatched their abilities. Friedrich grabbed two of their arms and snapped them like twigs before crushing a skull between his two hands.

As the first of the demons fell to the stone bricks, he picked up its metal-clad corpse and swung it like a club, knocking the rest of the wretched creatures down. One-by-one, he tore them to shreds, leaving a pool of blood spilling on the floor that grew so wide that it started dripping down the staircase. Turning his back on the bodies he left in his wake, Friedrich descended with heavy footsteps as Pheston let out another scream.

The chamber at the bottom of the staircase was large and open with cells built into the surrounding walls and many cages filled with the corpses of humans, elves, orcs and many other species that did not belong in Keldracht. Tied to a rack and with dozens of cuts and burns on his battered body was Pheston, while two demons stood over him with blades and red-hot branding irons.

Upon seeing the minotaur that had come to join the party, they turned to Friedrich and charged forward, but he was quicker off the mark. He threw himself into them and pinned them both to the ground. Snatching the branding iron from one, he shoved it into the demon’s mouth and it screamed as its tongue was burned. With a heavy shove, it pieced the back of the demon’s throat and it fell motionless, leaving its kin alone to deal with the minotaur pinning it down.

“Ka…Kagru…” panted the demon, but Friedrich did not care what it wanted to say. He stood up and grabbed the demon, tossing him against the ceiling and then stomping on his chest when he landed, crushing him within his armour.

“F-friedrich,” groaned Pheston. “Lovely day today, isn’t it?”

Seconds later, Friedrich’s returned to himself. “Are you alright?” he asked as he grabbed a key from a nearby table and unlocked Pheston’s shackles.

“Never better, lad…never better,” said the smith as he struggled to sit up. “A good sleep and I’ll be right as rain.”

Friedrich helped him to his feet and then passed over the hammer that Pheston cared so dearly for. “I thought you might want this back.”

Pheston clapped the young man on the shoulder and gave him a nod of gratitude as he accepted his weapon. He twirled it around in his hand and then swung it through the air before flexing and twisting his stiff body.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.”

“Noy yet,” said Friedrich, prompting a raised eyebrow. “I made a promise to the minotaur.”

“A promise to the minotaur? I don’t like the sound of this already, Friedrich. What’s this promise then? Enlighten me.”

“I promised to help him kill the Lord of Horns in exchange for him serving me without question.”

Pheston scoffed and grunted. “You’re just trying to get yourself killed, boy, aren’t you? What you’re proposing is madness, especially in that wicked beast’s own territory.”

“But you’ll help me, won’t you?”

“Yes,” said Pheston, looking to his hammer. “I will. Let’s see if we can draw him out, eh? If we’re to die, might as well go down swinging a hammer and a sword.”