Perceval was fuming.

The guard who pulled him out ran off somewhere right after they got into the corridor and around the corner. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a dead man once the captain got his hands on him.

Only because he was dazed after the impact, Percy was forced to abandon his people. No matter that he had a broken leg and trouble standing up, not to even mention him trying to fight like that.

There were demons inside the palace and he was damned if he didn’t help.

Still, all that paled at the solid grip squeezing his chest tight. It appeared when he saw Helena go down and did not leave him since. He didn’t know whether she was alive or dead already.

They did manage to kill three of the demons, one of the fiends, and some kind of a cultist. Or whatever you'd call a person crazy and deranged enough to actually be helping the infernal creatures.

Those types of groups sprang up from time to time in Meren, but were always swiftly dealt with.

Now he had three dead people and two left inside. He could only hope that Pjotr would take care of the rest and help his wife.

Percy looked towards Stuart, who was helping Himmel to some water. The mage was barely standing before. Now, he couldn’t even lift a hand.

“Where the hells is Anden? What’s taking him so long? There are people dying in there for gods’ sake!”

Soft sounds could be heard around them as people ran about, startled first by the loud cracks the cultist produced and then by the soldiers evacuating the room. No one was in the surrounding corridors, but the adjacent floors were abuzz.

While still holding a waterskin for the mage, the other paladin spoke, worry in his voice.

“A group of demons razed a nearby farm and the city’s garrison sallied for to kill them. Stragglers from the attack on the Wall.”

“And the palace guards?”

"There were multiple sightings of the aberrant that Helena encountered. In several places inside the inner walls, some of the guards went to intercept and the rest are protecting the palace itself. Anden’ll have to run all over the place to get together a group. He’s still thinking in terms of nine demons, seven of which are aberrants.”

“Crap! We can’t wait that long.” Percy’s shout was followed by a string of choice curses.

This all couldn't have been a coincidence. The farm being razed maybe, but the one inside and all of it during the ritual? Hardly. But how could the fuckers know what we were up to, and that other demons would be brought over? What the fuck is going on?

His mind was still racing when he noticed the sounds of several footsteps fast approaching. Around the corner raced the man sent to get help with more men of their order. Five paladins and some twenty squires. The former in their signature plate with kite shields in hand and the latter in gambesons and chainmail with smaller round wooden shields and a diverse set of weapons.

Anden was breathless and had to veer off at the last second not to steamroll the people resting in the corridor. He almost overbalanced, and arm windmilling, caught his balance.

He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself and with the other one wiped sweat off his brow. The rest of the order's members were able to stop in time and were now waiting for further word as to what was expected of them. Even the paladins were junior members.

"For some reason, the whole place is in an uproar, guards everywhere but nowhere at the same time, all of them refusing to leave whatever post they occupy. The garrison's gone from the city and I couldn't find any officers at all. Had to run back home to get someone." The panting man gestured to the reinforcements he brought.

Stuart straightened from where he was helping the mage. “Yeah, demons razing some poor guy’s home and Helena’s aberrant running in at least ten places at the same time. A fine mess we find ourselves in.”

"Quit yapping, no time for that. We need to get to our people in the ballroom." Percy promptly shut down any bantering before it could spring up and pointed to the two youngest-looking pages. "You two help me up. The rest… follow Stuart and Anden to where you’re needed. We’ll follow behind, they’ll fill you in on the details, but in short, we have a fiend and four aberrants still alive that we know of. We have three people inside alive, one of them injured.”

The designated squires helped him up and he had to take a moment to suppress a wince as he unconsciously tried to put weight on his bad foot. “There were still people alive, the main objective is to get them out, killing the demons can wait. Now, move!"

They all headed out, back to where they left minutes ago, the captain, supported by two boys, close on their heels.

When the trio rounded the last corner, a vein nearly popped on his forehead. “The fuck are you standing around for?" The men were clustered, watching as two of them tried to break through a closed double door with their shoulders and by kicking. "Are you really that stupid? You, you and you five, go around that way, there's a servant's port there, try to get in through there. You, you, and the five of you, that way is the royal entrance. The rest of you, get something to use as a battering ram. Stuart, Anden, keep trying to get in. Jehen get a mage who can get us through. Drag in Himmel if you have to. Looks like there’s a job for him still.”

Two groups of five squires and two paladins each ran in opposite directions and the rest ran for the closest room.

Several minutes later, the third returned with a heavy stool and a pair of chairs and replaced the two men in banging on the door.

When, a dozen minutes later, a squire returned from both secondary entrances to report similar situations and an even more ineffectual attempt at breaking in, Percy’s hopes of seeing his wife alive again began plummeting.

Their banging began even more fervent under his ferocious insults and abuse but to no avail.

Jehen returned ghastly forty minutes after he left, alone, not even a limp Himmel slung over a shoulder. “There’s no able mage left, all of them were drained for the ritual. I even had to drag Himmel to a healer due to exhaustion. I got out of him that we can expect magical support in two hours, at the earliest. Can't rush mana regen he said."

Percy’s threatening outburst didn’t arrive. Before he could open his mouth to yell something he knew he’d later regret, a group of servants arrived carrying a stack of axes.

If he won’t get mages and can’t get inside because of the doors, then he was going to break them down.

He was getting inside, one way or another. He just hoped he wasn’t too late, even though he didn’t hold much hope after all this time.

***

Creaking wood could be heard from all three entrances now and the efforts the Others were making to get inside were only getting stronger. They probably didn’t have much time.

Those who still had working hands and were capable of walking began relocating those who weren’t to the corner of the room that was furthest from every ingress.

They placed Ixalia in between Sidy and the red woman. Lubomira was next to Ixa’s friend. Zev had a fire going and was heating up one of the soldiers’ daggers in preparation. He was removing the binding Ixa spent precious time wrapping around the woman’s stump. She was conscious right now, but that almost certainly wouldn’t be the case once the young man started cauterizing the wound.

They planned to deal with it as gently as they could, but it looked like they wouldn’t be afforded the luxury, so they, Ixalia and Zev, decided that quick and dirty was better than not at all. They'd do the same for Sidy if the nature of her injury didn't predispose it against such treatment. It just wasn't feasible for her.

Sadly, there was nothing they could do for Liman and Louis. The former was dead already and the latter would follow suit soon.

Even worse was the fact that they couldn’t give him anything for the pain. It might seem cruel, but right now, they needed everything they had. Ixalia did pack some powerful stuff she got a year back for her own injury that she didn't use and hoarded instead, but without prescription, she wasn't able to get more and they had a limited amount.

Peter was sitting nearby, trying to make his claws work somehow, without much success. His mood was getting worse by the moment.

Remaining catatonic, Beatrice was sitting by his side so he could keep an eye on her. The group managed to get some food into her, but not a word left her since the altercation.

P-J and Lubosh armed themselves with weapons left by the dead and were currently in the process of stripping some armor to wear. Even Neibrt seemed to realize they were all in this together and was helping them, a sword at his side.

They got a weapon for Zev as well, even though he almost refused and claimed he was more prone to hurt himself than anyone else. So, they got him a spear. That way the pointy bit was a ways away from him and stabbing things was probably the easiest thing they could show him how to do.

As the only one immobile but capable of handling things, Ixa wore Liman's combat belt across her torso, over her good shoulder, and under the bad one. His pistol was in a holster on her chest. It would have been better for Peter to have it, as he was experienced with firearms, but that wasn’t an option. For obvious reasons.

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Instead, he went over handling the thing with Ixa earlier.

The sounds coming from the main door stilled for a moment before the crashing was replaced by a hefty chopping. And not long after, an axe head poked its shiny steel surface through a newly created hole.

The time for another confrontation was rapidly approaching.

Ixa debated whether to draw the gun and lob a round or two into the breach, but movement to her side got her attention before she could come to a decision. And it wasn’t coming from Sidy.

***

Helena stirred into wakefulness. She recalled the serpent stuffing something bitter into her mouth and then holding it and her nose shut until she gulped it down. It made her feel numb after a short time. A numbness that still muddled her mind a little and dulled the pain in her arm and leg.

Next, the demon did… something, before employing the fat man in rolling Pjotr from on top of her and stripping her. She'd have felt shame at her shirt and legs being sheared open in any other situation. By a man nonetheless. But at the time, she did not care at all.

She definitely did not care about that one bit when the human-demon pair rolled a clean bandage and started stuffing it into her open wound. If she’d been capable of it and if they were her allies, she’d have yelled at them to stop being idiots and killing the wounded. The resulting pain prevented her from even voicing it and it knocked her out soon enough.

Now, even through the veil on her thinking, she managed to not open her eyes and stilled, pretending to still be asleep.

Loud noises were coming from somewhere, multiple somewheres, and softer sounds reached her ears from closer by. A fire crackled and metal clinked. The unmistakable sound of chainmail and soft conversation.

She still couldn’t understand a word.

Helena then concentrated on herself. She had her back propped up against something hard and cold, probably the stone walls. She couldn’t feel any bindings and her wounds almost not at all.

It didn’t feel like anyone was paying her any attention so she carefully opened an eye and saw bandages around herself. She instinctively tried to touch them after she confirmed that she was indeed left unattended. The serpent was next to her, but it was staring at the door, hand fiddling with something at its chest Helena couldn’t see.

Percy was definitely trying to get in, but there was a mountain of furniture preventing him from getting inside.

Her movement was slow. She bent her elbow and went to touch her injured arm. And found her hand limp, incapable of anything. In fact, everything below the elbow was completely insensitive. On both arms. The priest tried to adjust her position but her feet weren’t working either.

Panic seeped in. What have they done to me? What is this? She jerked and again tried to move, but a hand pushed her back down. She caught the attention of the demon next to her. Fuck!

It spoke to her, saying words she still couldn't make heads or tails of. They definitely sounded familiar. Like if she stretched them a bit they overlap with her own language. But try as she might, no meaning reached her.

At least it wasn’t hurting her. It's not hurting me further, you mean. Helena had to remind herself that the demon had done something to cripple her. The fact that a demon was speaking to her, or trying to anyway, was doing strange things to her psyche. It was simply too… wrong. Or something.

Demons weren't supposed to do this, they were simple-minded beings hell-bent on human destruction. They shouldn't go about binding wounds and all that.

She tried to sit more upright and get into a more comfortable position, but the hand on her shoulder stopped her once again.

“Fuck off, will you? Whatever you did to me, just… fuck off. Can’t even let me sit, can you?” It might not have been the smartest idea to yell at a demon, but that somehow did the trick and it released her long enough for her to shuffle on limp hands onto her butt.

The demon reeled back at the venom in her voice, or maybe at the fact it did not understand her either, was anyone’s guess, really. It soon composed itself and spoke some more. The language wasn’t Liranean, Guhese, nor Kitish, the languages spoken in the three neighboring kingdoms. But it still scratched the back of her mind, too familiar for comfort.

Even though the content of its speech did not reach Helena, its intent did, the calming tone was unmistakable. It was gesturing with its good hand animatedly, at her injuries and at her arms and legs.

Helena's uncomprehending stare must have registered because the demon shut up with a clap. Then it pointed at itself and said one word before pointing at her and tilting its head. The word held no meaning for the priest.

“What do you want?”

It pointed to the brunette next to her, “Sidy,” then at the woman with a severed leg, “Lubomira,” it went through some more people, pointing at each and always saying one word. “Perry, Jerry, Peter, Beatrice, …”

Once it had gotten through most of the present it once again pointed at itself. “Ixalia.”

“Is that your name? Is that it?” Well, if you can’t speak, you gotta start somewhere, right? This is as good a start as any, I guess.

Maybe the scene playing out was a bit cliché, but neither cared. Helena bent her right elbow and placed her limp hand on her chest. “Helena.” Then she waved her arm in front of herself, deliberately making her palm and fingers flop around. “What did you do to me.” She aimed a pointed look at the limb.

The demon said something and then stopped, realizing that speaking was useless. It looked around and scratched its chin. It reached out and grabbed a glass of water and the pack from under the girl next to it, being careful not to wake her up. It rummaged inside and got a piece of a rectangular white stick.

Pointing at the girl, then placing a hand under its head, the snake pretended to be sleeping. It got up and used the stick, now revealed to be some kind of chalk, to draw a line on the floor. It then took a swig of water and placed the glass down and drew the shortest line next to it, almost a dot. It swirled its finger in a sort of continue gesture and bobbed its head as if it was bored and waiting, then it took another sip and drew the next dot, close to the previous one and near the middle of the first line then a third dot at its end.

Next, it pointed to the window, making a circle with its fingers and then pointing to the side and slowly moving it up and then to the other side, making a full turn it made the next line below the first one, almost three times as long.

It pointed to the beginning of this last line and rubbed its eye and yawned, as one might when waking up, then it traced it almost to the middle and mimed eating, at about two thirds it pointed to the girl next to it again and to the fist line before returning to the latest one and finishing running a finger along it.

Now it pointed at its own arm and drew as long a line as it could, swishing at the end and making an arrow to indicate that it should be longer. Then it pointed at Helena’s limb and tapped the last line.

“A day, it will last a day?” If that was true, it was an amazing thing the demon did, most likely some kind of a spell. Helena spoke too fast though. She jumped into the middle of the demon’s explanation and it shook its head before continuing.

It tapped the line again and then made a new one, perpendicular to all of the ones it made so far. And then another one and one more after then. All in all, it made about thirty of them.

“A month? Are you fucking kidding me?” The tone must have carried through as it shrugged, giving her a ‘not my problem’ look.

And it really isn’t, now is it? You are lucky to be alive at all. She had to admit to herself.

But the serpent was moving again, crossing about half of the lines it made, and nodded its head, affirming their placement, and rubbed off the rest, shrugging. It drew them back on, shrugging each time, and finishing back at thirty. It raised one finger and shrugged, then a second one and its shoulder went up again. Then a third finger.

So… anywhere from two week up to three months? The fuck did it do to me.

Helena was about to try to ask something more, something that had been on her mind since she realized that these weren’t ‘normal’ demons. But further communication was interrupted by a loud crack and a shout coming from the front entrance.

“Helena, Pjotr! Hold on, we’re coming!” It was Percy’s voice. She completely forgot about the mess on their hands in her excitement to be speaking with a demon. And from the startled look on its face, it did as well.

But that was not all, and they both saw it. The other fiend was standing near the tables with food and was chewing on something a moment before, but now was looking at the double door. That was the reason it missed the man lurking beneath the furniture.

The royal crier hid there at the beginning of everything and now showed himself. Maybe he smelled an opportunity when he saw a lone target or he might have been emboldened by friendly warriors being nearby and almost inside.

He was slowly drawing a knife from his belt.

That’s a mistake, we shouldn’t be fighting right now. We’ve got to make heads and tails of what the fuck is going on and they clearly aren’t hostile to each other, maybe they wouldn’t have been to us if we didn’t start it. This and many more thoughts of similar nature flashed through the priest's mind in but an instant.

Helena and the demon had the same idea and both shouted at the same time, albeit at different people. “Don’t do it, René!” were Helena’s words and even though she didn’t understand, the demon yelled as well. “Neibrt, watch out!”

Both men paused and looked in their direction before their eyes met. Neibrt, apparently, tried to draw a sword but René rose from underneath the table to tackle him and slipped his knife into the fiend.

They landed with René on top. He raised his hand to strike again and a quiet click sounded from Helena’s side, followed by what could only be a curse. A slightly louder ka-tchunk was only barely faster than the knife.

When the blade rose for a third stab, Helena went deaf in her left ear, both it and the other one ringing loudly. As she swiveled her head, she caught the sight of the crier slumping down, blood spattered behind him.

The demon was holding an item, not unlike the one that was aimed at Helena maybe an hour earlier. Probably the very same. A thin trail of smoke was leaving its end and it shook slightly, or more specifically, the serpent's hand was shaking.

It squeezed its finder and another bang rang out. Helena watched as the whole thing slid on itself, kicking up and spitting out something that flew off to the side.

She couldn't think of anything other than What a marvelous product of magic. It had to be an artifact of some kind and it was as utterly terrifying as it was awe-inspiring.

But it was all for naught. Both men, now one sprawled over the other, lay in a growing pool of blood, one unmoving and the other clutching at its stomach where three wounds bled profusely.

Some of the others standing around the room were now running towards them, but Helena knew it was too late, they were both dead, one of them just didn’t know it yet.

A clunk made her look back at the demon and she saw that its hand was now empty. The weapon was dropped onto the ground and it was staring at its now rapidly shaking hand. An expression of utter shock and horror on its face.

What’s going on? Is it because René killed the fiend? No, that can’t be it, there were many more dead and it didn’t seem to react this way. So… because it killed him? But… that could only be… Did it maybe… never kill before?

The thought was preposterous. But here it was, right in front of her. A demon who seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown after taking a human’s life.

As it turned out, that wasn’t to be the only surprise for Helena.

The demon began to pray. In a language that Helena understood.

“Hear my prayer, oh Asha, hear me speak and judge my sins. For I have sinned and will surely do so again, in the river that is my life. It flows through fate and it is up to us to choose the correct arm. Let it be the right one, let it not be the blind one that would carry us into a marsh. Guide me in my strife. Let me see your light.”

Helena knew that prayer, that exact wording, if not the name of the deity it was spoken to. That exact prayer was one of the oldest on record, said since time immemorial.

She stared at the snake for a moment before speaking in old Merenese. “You understand? You speak this?” Maybe they’d be able to find some common ground.

Its head snapped to the side almost faster than Helena could register. Eyes wide, it said something in its own language before turning around and shaking the sleeping brunette with bandaged arm awake.

The girl took a while to become aware of her surroundings and the demon yapping into her ear in more words per second than a deer could run meters in a minute did not help.

She had to calm the demon down and probably had her repeat whatever word salad it barfed out, but after digesting it, the girl turned to Helena. She had to think for a moment and it came out somewhat piecemeal, but when she finally spoke, Helena understood.

“You use the word of gods?”

Further communication was once more not to be as Helena’s people chose that exact time to finish breaking the door down and now managed to drop the barricade.