“You have lost,” said the Lord of Horns, his smarminess returning to him in the face of certain victory. “Perhaps I will not turn you into one of my own and simply let you suffer in agony as you die, human. With your death, so too goes the soul of that fox within you.”

“No…” muttered Friedrich as he felt the searing flames within his gut.

He placed his hands on the minotaur mask and placed it upon his face as the Lord of Horns reached forward to stop him, having been too busy gloating to react in time. The demon was knocked back and the flaming sword dissipated, no longer in its conjurer’s hand, as Friedrich transformed into the minotaur warlord, Darkan; the last of his clan.

Friedrich reached forward and grabbed the demon lord by his horns. He roared in fury as he snapped one of the sharp protrusions off, leaving the Lord of Horns aghast. Friedrich thumped the demon in the chest, knocking the cruel beast to the ground. He leapt towards his foe with the horn raised and jammed it into the demon’s skull.

“Neyrpaz, kuldrag, fuhl…” muttered the Lord of Horns as the fire faded from his orange eyes.

He tried to stammer out a few infernal words, but it was no use. The last vestiges of life slipped from him as he realised his death was not because of his own skill, but because of his hubris. The minotaur started beating the demon’s corpse, pulverising it. The Lord of Horns was unrecognisable thirty seconds later, leaving behind a headless body and two thick horns.

There was a screeching roar as three more wyverns spiralling down through the sky from a swirling vortex of purple and black. Whatever these beasts were doing here, Friedrich had the sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the final utterings from the Lord of Horns.

“Help!” called Pheston and Friedrich rushed to his aid, seeing his hammerless friend being chased by a half dozen demons as the first ash wyvern lay dead with Pheston’s hammer lying underneath it.

Friedrich hauled himself up and made a mad dash for the smith’s hammer and ploughing through the demons that dared approach him. He grabbed it in one of his thick-fingered hands as the first of the newly summoned wyverns descended upon him. Friedrich swung Vigr, smashing the wyvern across the face before the second of the wyverns swiped at him with its clawed foot, sending him flying across the courtyard.

As the wyverns chase him, Friedrich climbed to his feet and made for Pheston, letting out a snorting roar to alert his friend. When Pheston looked over, Friedrich hurled the hammer through the air. The smith reached out a hand and caught the swirling hammer, shrinking it back from its long-shafted form to its regular one.

Armed once again, Pheston turned to the demons and engaged them as Friedrich made for the wyverns. He had helped take out one with ease, so three mustn’t be so bad. No sooner had that foolish thought crossed his mind than he was scooped up by one of the beasts as the other two whipped their tails across his torso.

Pushing through the pain, he made a couple of failed attempts to grab them before clenching his fingers around one of their tails. He bit the foot of the wyvern that held him, tearing off one of its toes and spitting it down to the courtyard below. The screeching demon released him and Friedrich swung on the wyvern’s tail nestled between his fingers to escape the beatings, riding it down and letting go before falling two dozen feet to the ground. He landed and rolled along, dizzy, but not too much worse for the wear.

No more than ten seconds later, Friedrich’s transformation wore off and he stood as a human once again. He ran to Pheston, who had dispatched most of his pursuers and was alive to tell the tale, but the wyverns were speeding towards them as their ashen wings beat against the sky.

“What do we do?” asked Friedrich, drawing his sword and raising his shield.

“We hide in the castle and wait to be captured again or we stay and fight, likely dying in the process. Which do you fancy?”

“We can take them,” said Friedrich, sounding more confident than he was. “Ready? Char—”

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Before he could finish his sentence, a swirling portal spawned in the centre of the courtyard. From within, came a flurry of rapidly firing arrows and streams of lightning that struck two of the wyverns, sending them plummeting to the ground. The screeching beasts turned to face the portal, only to be met by a human with dazzling blue eyes and a golden elf in black armour.

“Now!” shouted Friedrich with no time to fully process what had just happened.

He and Pheston charged for the last aerial wyvern that swiped at them. Friedrich bashed its foot with his shield, knocking it back with the power of its shockwave while Pheston extended his hammer to four times its normal length, just enough to reach the wyvern’s head, and swung it hard, bringing the creature down to the ground.

Feeling daring, Friedrich leapt onto the wyvern and ran across the beast’s underbelly, holding his sword high before thrusting it deep within the creature’s mouth and killing it. He looked up and saw another one of the wyvern’s explode as countless volts of electricity filled its head and the other was already lying motionless on the ground, its body filled with flaming arrows.

“Friedrich!” cried Marina, running over to him with tears in her eyes.

He jumped from the wyvern’s corpse and ran to her, sheathing his sword as he did so and embraced her. Marina howled into his tunic as Teleri and Pheston walked over to them. The only thought that ran through Friedrich’s head was how much he had missed his companions and that it was a much more intense feeling upon seeing them before him.

Marina released him and looked at him. “I…I can’t…believe…it’s really…you!” she moaned, not caring how much sniffling she was doing.

“How did you…how?” he asked as Teleri stood before him.

“Control yourself, Marina,” said the Alaurian, rolling her eyes.

“Ah, shut up,” laughed Friedrich.

He threw his arms around her and hugged her too. The high elf was taken aback, but she reached up and patted him on the back, surprised that he was another couple of inches taller than when they had last met.

“Grephor found a way to reach you using the Orb of Valskythe,” said Marina, drying her eyes on her cloak. “But we can’t stay here for long. The earth mages are holding the portal open from the other side and they’ll start to weaken eventually. Once that happens, the portal closes and the orb is destroyed. It’s a one-time deal. Let’s get going, both of you.”

“No introductions, nothing?” asked Pheston, thumping Friedrich on the arm. “After all I’ve heard about these two best friends of yours.”

“Ah yes, of course,” said the young Mercian. “Marina and Teleri, this is Pheston. Pheston, this is Marina and Teleri, I’m sure you can guess which is which. You can get properly acquainted once we’re out of this hellhole and back on solid ground…or sand, I suppose.”

“Lovely ladies,” the smith muttered to Friedrich before clearing his throat and bowing to them. “I appreciate the rescue, friends of Friedrich, but I’m afraid that I won’t be accompanying you all home. I wish you all a safe journey and a very merry rest of your lives.”

“What do you mean?” asked Friedrich in shock. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“I’m not cut out for that world anymore, lad,” said the old smith sombrely while shaking his head. “It’s been forty years, Friedrich. I’ve spent almost two thirds of my life in Keldracht and I don’t know how to function in that sort of society anymore. You’re the first person I’ve held a conversation with in years that hasn’t been dead or worse after a week.”

“Society?” asked Marina, desperately trying to think of a way to convince Pheston to accompany them home. “No, you’ve got it all wrong. We spend most of our time in the wilderness or in caves. Sometimes we get accosted by monsters, big or small, and have to fight our way out.”

“Nah,” said Pheston, shaking his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll take my chances here. Now that the Lord of Horns is gone, maybe I’ll see if I can thin out the hordes just a little bit more.”

“Only for them to be replaced elsewhere,” said Friedrich sternly. “This is a demonic plane. There’s nothing that can be done to salvage it in the long term and you know that as well as I do. Kill a hundred demons and there’ll be another hundred before long. They’re not like us.”

“I know, but—"

“We need to go now,” said Teleri resolutely, looking towards the portal which was starting to rumble unstably.

“Then it’s farewell,” said Pheston, holding up a hand in goodbye.

“Farewell,” said Teleri, trying to usher her two friends along while leaving the smith to his chosen fate.

“No,” said Marina, stomping towards him and pointing her finger in his face. “Listen here, you. We spent months trying to find a way to bring Friedrich back. Even before that, we tracked down the Orb of Valskythe that you used to come here before us. If you think we put in all this effort only to have you throw it back in our faces, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Pheston stood in stunned silence for a moment. “Feisty one, aren’t you?” he said before shaking his head. “I don’t know…maybe…I don’t know…”

Teleri snatched the hammer from his hand and hurled it into the portal. “Decision made for you,” she said before grabbing Friedrich and Marina by the arms and marching over to the portal.

“These ladies are something else,” muttered Pheston again before shrugging and following them. “I like ‘em already.”

The old smith took one last look over his shoulder at the Lord of Horns’ courtyard and let out a resounding laugh. Smiling to himself, he stepped through the portal after Friedrich, Marina and Teleri, leaving Keldracht behind after four decades.