Mark of the Fool
Chapter 516: The Mercenaries' Power

The horde of demon monkeys howled, bellows echoing along the walls. They beat their chests. They stomped their feet. They gnashed their fangs to drive terror into their foes.

Alex’s team wasted no time with mere threats.

Guntile’s stones shot through the air with deadly precision, flying far and fast. Each struck a beast clinging to the walls, exploding in great flashes of light and bone-shattering peals of thunder. Demons blew apart in columns of flame and force, limbs flying one way and bones another.

And that was just the opening salvo.

As raging demons gaped at their dying fellows, Ripp was among them, knives flickering as he sped between their legs, blurring in impossible speed, steel spraying black and red liquid.

A hamstring slit behind an ankle.

A vein opened in a thick thigh.

In a heartbeat, two giants were tumbling to the earth, and Ripp was on them, hooked blades doing their gruesome work.

Ezerak chanted a war-cry in an ancient tongue, raising his curved blade high. His skin rippled. His tattoos boiled.

An army—comprised of a horde of horrifying monsters—demon lions, snarling griffons, enormous bats, and stalking trees leapt from his flesh—each growing to full size in heartbeats as they jumped the frenzied demon monkeys.

Ezerak’s monsters ripped the demons like parchment, shredding them with claw, fang and beak. A larger diabnireus sprang from the wall gripping a massive rock above its head and dropping it on a griffon’s skull, rupturing the creature in a wash of ink and fumes.

Regenerating, it returned to Ezerak’s chest, free of colour, leaving it grey and wan.

Alex’s jaw dropped, but before he could utter a word, a titanic surge of mana struck his senses from the side.

Kyembe had stepped up, raised his arm and aimed his fist before him. His ring flared a blinding bright white. A terrible heat swirled.

With a sickening hiss and crackle like bone bursting, a white beam of hellfire shot from the ring—filling the air with blinding heat—and striking a demon-ape mid-chest in mid-leap.

The creature shrieked only once, erupting in a column of white flame that consumed it down to bone and beyond, leaving only a cloud of white ash. Within the cloud, the spark of hellfire burned, jumping to another demon. Then another. When its searing light winked out, four had been reduced to dust.

Kyembe groaned and the scent of burnt flesh rose.

But, Celsus was surging past the Spirit Killer, every stride eating the distance between him and the now panicked horde. With the momentum of a falling tree, his enormous mace smashed through air, flesh, and bone with equal ease.

Demons pulped beneath the blows, their own strikes clattered futilely against his armour. He didn’t slow.

In heartbeats, most of the horde was down and the rest looked frantic, poised to scatter.

Claygon stopped them dead.

Literally.

Fire-beams lanced into the apes, and though their fur resisted flame from the labyrinth’s stone walls, it incinerated in Claygon’s terrible fire-magic.

In the end, the troop of anthropoids was reduced to a horde of twitching corpses, drifting ash, and bits of meat drowning under the menagerie that had swarmed from Ezerak’s form.

“Uh…” Alex murmured in amazement. “Well…uh…well done.”

Thundar elbowed his friend, leaning in and whispering. “You, uh, wanna hire these guys all the time? Pretty sure we’d have your kingdom cleaned up in ten minutes.”

“I hear you,” Alex whispered back, watching the mercenaries take stock of the situation. “Well, you get what you pay for, I guess. And I’m paying a lot. And I do mean, a lot.”

“Fair enough.” The minotaur nodded.

“Father…all threats are destroyed…you should…be moving soon,” Claygon said, taking up a position beside the portal. The butt of his war-spear struck the ground.

“We will guard your escape.” Celsus marched back, also taking up a guard position across from Claygon on the opposite side of the gate. “Do not fear. We will be ready if you need us.”

“Let’s hope we won’t,” Alex said, his eyes falling on the other mercenaries. “Even with this group, I’d prefer that we be out of here without fighting another horde of demons. You never know when catastrophe will get you.”

He nodded to Kyembe. “Hey, are you alright? I smelled something burning.”

“Hellfire is a gluttonous beast, and it demands its price.” The Spirit Killer pulled back his sleeve, revealing a mass of burns snaking along his ring-hand and arm.

Alex flinched. “Holy hells! That doesn’t look alright!”

“Give me a moment.” The purple clad mercenary sheathed his sword, and Alex felt another surge of power as Kyembe pressed his other hand to the wounds. Muted, golden light enveloped his fingers, cooling flesh and sloughing off burnt tissue, exposing new, unblemished skin.

“There, as smooth and whole as the day I was born.” He pulled his sleeve down. “I can pay hellfire’s price for some time, as long as my eldritch energies hold. Beyond that? Things become…challenging, shall we say.”

“Right…” Alex noted the arm, filing it away on a mental list of weaknesses. If Kyembe, Celsus or any of the others did try to betray him, he would have to hit them fast, hard, and right where it hurt. “Well, I can heal with blood magic, so if you need to save your power, just tell me.”

“A fine offer, and I thank you.” The Spirit Killer nodded.

“Two healers.” Ezerak whistled. “We’re spoiled on this job.”

“Aye, and nasty killers too,” Ripp said. “But, I’m feeling more confident already.”

“Don’t, that’s always when things go wrong in the old stories.” Alex grimaced, pulling out Baelin’s map. “Alright, so let’s get going. We have a party to go to.”

The journey through the labyrinth was—thankfully—not a difficult one. Baelin’s map proved invaluable, providing clear and simple directions through the miles of maze-tunnels between Alex’s group and the waiting wagon.

Through the hours-long walk—made easier with body enhancement magic from the aeld staff—the team spoke little, kept their eyes peeled, and their ears cocked for the first sign of danger.

Ripp took up position at the front of the group, often zipping ahead, scouting corners to alert his companions of hidden danger. Guntile took the rear, her eyes scanned the path behind them, watching for even the faintest shadow of a wild demon.

Though there was little conversation between them, Alex had much to occupy his mind: Claygon’s emotions and thoughts reached out to him across the miles. ‘No…threats…here, father. Are you…alright?’

‘Alright and on schedule,’ Alex thought, tracing their path along Baelin’s map. ‘Haven’t met any travellers, forces from the demon’s city, or wild demons. How about you?’

‘Nothing here…father. Just…standing still…with Celsus. He is very good at standing still…for a living thing.’

‘Yeah,’ Alex thought. ‘Well, he’s very good at fighting too. Rely on each other, and watch him closely.’

‘I…will…father…’ Claygon’s thoughts drifted away.

The aeld staff gave a small peal of emotion, as though saying goodbye to the golem’s consciousness. Alex shook his head. ‘Still wondering how it does that.’

“No threats up here, boss!” Ripp called, peering around a corner up ahead. The swiftling kept his distance from the burning walls.

“None on our left.” Ezerak watched the wall closest to him.

“None to our right.” Kyembe watched the other one.

“And nothing behind us,” Guntile reported. “This is almost too easy.”

“Don’t say that.” Thundar warned her. “No faster way to find something jumping out at you than saying that.”

“You’re a superstitious lot,” Ezerak said, sounding amused.

“Comes from experience. And by the way, that’s something else that’ll get monsters jumping out at you.” Alex referred back to the map, calling on the Mark.

It brought him detailed images of the path they’d taken since reaching Cretalikon, giving him a better understanding of their trek through the maze so far. The Mark even noted tiny landmarks and peculiarities in the stone, most of which had escaped Alex’s notice at the time.

‘If we lose the map,’ he thought. ‘I’d better make sure to have our route out of here memorised. I can see mania taking hold of us if we get lost on the way back, especially if there’s an army of demons on our tail…and speaking of mania…’

He took a subtle look at the mercenaries. ‘They seem fine, at least right now. But, if things go wrong, that’s when Thundar and I’ll really have our hands full. These folks are a dangerous bunch, without question, and if even one of them turns on us, it likely won’t end well.’

As they made their way through the maze, Alex replayed the battle at the portal in his mind, looking for weaknesses in his ‘minions’.

‘Ripp’s quick. Real quick. His blades bite hard and fast. If he turns against us, we can’t hesitate. Not for a second. Greater force armour might buy some time, but he’d slaughter me if I don’t take him down fast. The best way to counter him would be to summon a horde of monsters to slow him down then hit him with sleep magic.’

His eyes briefly flicked to Ezerak, remembering the creatures covering his body. He’ll be a major problem if he turns. The man wears an entire army on his skin, but he must use a lot of mana powering those tattoos. Blodeuwedd’s mana-draining magic should—hopefully—drain a lot of his forces. After that…a sleeping spell… maybe.’

His attention drifted to Kyembe. ‘He’s almost as quick as Ripp in some ways, and his ring means nothing short of instant death. …but it takes time to charge—like Claygon’s fire-beams used to—and I bet it also draws a lot of mana. While he’s charging it, I hit him with Blodeuwedd’s mana-draining magic then freeze him in place with blood magic, or maybe put him to sleep.’

The last one for him to consider was Guntile. ‘Those stones of hers could split Thundar and me like rotten fruit, and she’s real quick with them too. Maybe use deflective force rectangles to slap them away, which’ll buy me a few seconds. Then a bunch of Wizard’s Hands to try and pull the bag from her, followed by sleeping magic or booby-trapped flight magic.’

He nodded, satisfied with the planning…somewhat. ‘Still, no matter how you look at it, a fight between us and them would be rough, and if two or three of them join up and turn on us, we may as well accept the fact that we’re as good as dead. Jeez, I wish I’d learned Planar Doorway already, it’d be great for escaping.’

His eyes drifted up to the flame-wracked skies. ‘No sense in wishing, or buying trouble. Plan for the worst, but focus on what’s in front of you.’

“Boss, we’re here!” Ripp called peeking around another t-junction.

Around the corner a festive looking wagon waited, as fine as any Alex had seen at festivals in Alric or those in Generasi. Its frame was crafted of solid brass, and the wooden panels surrounding it were painted a deep scarlet.

Atop, a bronze gargoyle perched, its eyes burned with illusionary red light. Though the wagon was big enough for at least ten very large passengers, it was only being pulled by two draft animals: two of the largest hell-boars Alex had ever seen.

The demonic beasts were docile, gazing at the troupe with placid eyes as they approached.

“Well, here we have it.” Alex announced. “The Troupe of the Gargoyle’s carriage, to take us into the city.”

“Thank my ancestors,” Thundar grunted. “I was sick of walking.”

“We rest here.” Alex turned to the mercenaries. “Eat up, drink, nap, do any last minute business you have to. This’ll probably be the last meal we’ll be having for a while.”

“Or at all,” Guntile grunted.

“Ah, banish such thoughts.” Kyembe’s crimson eyes flashed under his skull mask. “We are mighty, as we have shown each other; the lion does not spend each moment cowering and contemplating his death.”

Ezerak grimaced. “One of my generals was called The Lion. Last I saw of the man, he was skewered on half a dozen pikes. Death comes no matter how you think of it.”

The Spirit Killer spread his hands. “Then better to plunge into the after-world in a fine mood, not a foul one. Death cares not if we scowl or smile when it comes.”

“I’d rather tell it to piss off for another hundred years,” Alex said.

“Or two hundred,” Thundar added.

“Can we stop talking about death now?” Ripp scowled. “It brings poor luck.”

“Fair enough.” Alex tapped his staff on the stones. “Eat and get some rest. We’ll be seeing the walls of Jaretha, Cretalikon’s capital city, soon. And then it’s show time. Literally.”

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