The Demon Lord Is An Angel
Chapter 114: A Chance To Run

Chapter 114: A Chance To Run

The Black Sheep were pleasantly surprised to learn that they were being given a cart and a strider - which to Kir looked like a shorter-necked, brown, and striped giraffe.

The evening went pleasantly enough, but Kir was acutely aware that the Black Sheep were dining on their own; the rest of the camp had gone to another hall to eat, one marked by the same symbol from the backs of the men he’d seen earlier.

The symbol of the Chain Syndicate.

"If the Syndicate’s out here, it’s probably because they’re expecting people to start running from the major cities soon," Caroon said, when the conversation inevitably turned to their presence. "Probably setting up for some rich pricks down the line."

"Why?" Sam asked before Kir could.

Caroon finished his swallow of wine before answering, "Every now and then you get someone who wants to outrun the Heavenswar by setting up a colony somewhere else. About fifty years back the Eye opened a bit, made about half a year of false winter. Everyone was scared the war was coming early, so my clade packed up and left. That’s why Tov got founded."

He looked at Kir. "And yes, people would rather deal with slavers than demons. A slaver will take your body, but a demon will take that and your soul."

Kir hadn’t made that mental leap, but Caroon assuming it sparked curiosity and anger. "I wouldn’t know," Kir said. "Considering I was raised by an elf and a human, and have never tried to take a soul. How exactly do they do that?"

"By turning contractors into demons," Caroon replied. "And making their contracts damned easy to violate."

"That’s it?" Kir almost laughed.

"What do you mean that’s it? Getting turned into a demon is a death sentence-"

"Caroon, there’s a bottle of wine under my cot that I was saving for the journey. It’s yours if you shut up about demons," Noir snapped.

With a grumble, Caroon got up and swayed his way over to Noir’s cot.

"So much for me being one of the good ones," Kir muttered, staring at the cup of wine he had yet to touch. Was that all it took?

"Caroon’s a hardass about demons because when he was a blacksmith’s apprentice, a demon came to collect on his master, and, well... his village grew paranoid. Sold him off. When we visited Tov, things were..."

"Bad," Sam said. "Caroon... had fights."

"Glad he came with us though," Noir said a bit louder as Caroon returned with the wine, pulling the cork out with his teeth.

"Don’t go telling my story behind my back, Noir," Caroon said as he took a swig. "But since you’re here, why don’t you tell the rest. Go on." He sat heavily, glaring at the remains of his meal. "Tell him what they called me on the Island."

Namosa twisted her lips, a mix of emotions playing out in her eyes. When Noir failed to speak up, she said, "Demon Goat."

"It wasn’t your fault," Noir said.

Caroon shrugged. "So what? It’s easy to be a demon in hell, isn’t that what they say?"

"What happened?" Kir asked Caroon, before looking from person to person.

Namosa broke the silence. "Caroon knew how to work a forge, the slavers put him to work. Made him put the branding circles in a lot of necks. A lot of people hated him because of it."

"They don’t just brand everyone?" Kir asked.

"Only if you act up," Caroon said. "Getting a circle in you messes up most magic, so it makes you harder to sell. Especially if you’re a mage. Not so much care given to mavens."

"But back in the dungeon you could use your ability just fine," Kir noted.

"Syndicate secret I guess. Some metals don’t disrupt magic as badly as everyone thinks. Iron’ll do it. Steel. Mythril not at all I hear, but good luck getting it. Syndicate had me drawing wire sometimes. I know there’s copper and gold in it. Still hurt like a bitch pushing magic into my old sword," Caroon grunted and sipped.

"Look, Caroon, you’re not a demon because you did what other people forced you to do. I might be demonkin, but that doesn’t mean I’m any more immune to being backed into a corner than you." Kir gestured at one of his ears. "So let’s try to get along. Drunk and sober."

Caroon let out a very goat-like snort. "Says the one who isn’t drinking. What are you, ten?"

"The last time I had a drink I wound up with more tattoos." Kir passed his cup of wine across to Namosa, who downed it for him. "I’d like to wait until we’re some place safer to cut loose."

"Ehh, suit yourself," Caroon took a long swig from the wine bottle. "Gonna-"

The sound of the door opening drew everyone’s attention.

Kir didn’t recognize the elf at the door. Yet her sick appearance and the fact she was supporting herself with a crutch told him who she was well before Namosa said her name. She was wearing a long, white shirt, with light blood stains just above her hip.

"Vatima? What are you doing here?" Namosa asked, rising to her feet and moving to help her. Once Vatima was seated on a nearby bed, she spoke.

"I came to warn you. Brooker is... Talking to the adventurers. Trying to convince them... He wants to," Vatima grimaced in pain. "Wants to capture you. Says you’re all escaped slaves."

"Who’s Brooker?" Kir asked.

"The camp’s Syndicate boss," Noir answered, his face pale. "How did he find out?"

"Don’t know. Maybe scrypen, Syndicate has their own, because they own the expedition. Mother told me to warn you. She’s trying to stall, but she can’t for long. You need to go tonight."

Almost as one, everyone stood except for Vatima. Kir finally

"I’ll grab the strider," Namosa said.

"Me too," Sam added.

"Gonna get the cart ready," Caroon said, grabbing up a sack of supplies and following them out of the door.

Noir looked at Vatima. "Thank you for warning us."

"I owe all of you my life," she replied. "I could never look my mother in the eyes if..." She shook her head. "Thank you. If you see Amarena, give her this." She reached into her bodice and produced a metal sigil, crafted to resemble a bear with huge, clawed forearms.

"What is it?" Kir asked as Noir accepted the token.

"A bavan, the creature she slew. It will be her first honor mark... even if she cannot become Valrian." She smiled. "You must be Kir. I’m glad you talked to my mother."

"She said she can’t help Amarena, but she did tell me someone might induct her," he still couldn’t see why Amarena wanted to become a Valrian, but perhaps if they met again he’d learn more.

"That makes me glad," Vatima said. "It sounds like quite the adventure... I wish I was well enough to join her."

"Cart’s loaded," Caroon said as soon as he re-entered the door. "Gates are closed though. Your chance to talk us out of here," he said to Noir.

Vatima waved the three of them goodbye, and Kir exited to find the cart being hitched to the strider, who was chewing a wad of straw as Namosa finished connecting the yoke.

After a few moments to load up, Noir took the lead with Caroon, walking the strider to the outpost’s north gate.

"Hold up there. No one goes out at night, not with a demon about," the guard, a cat beastkin with tiger-like stripes on his ears and tail raised his hand as Noir approached. "Warmancer’s orders."

"Are you sure those orders apply to us? We’re not part of the camp, so Warmancer’s orders makes more sense if there was, you know, a war to mance," Noir replied. "We just want to get out of everyone’s hair, seeing as we weren’t invited to the big party and all. Same as you."

The guard frowned. Evidently Noir struck a nerve.

Obviously realizing this, Noir continued.

"In fact, I heard the Syndicate boys unpacked some good stuff. Ever had Ro Tenet red? Best sweet summer wine, just..." Noir kissed the tips of his fingers. "Well, they tossed us a bottle for staying out of the party. It’s on the table in the barracks if you let us go."

The guard regarded Noir suspiciously.

Kir, sensing that things were about to go south, hopped out of the cart. "I thought we were leaving that for Vatima," he said, tossing his hat in the ring.

"Vatima’s there?" the guard asked, his tail wagging a bit.

"Bedridden, sadly," Noir said. "It’s a shame we have to go, elsewise she’d have someone to drink with. She’s not likely to sleep with all the pain..."

Kir was glad not to be on the wrong end of an honest tail for once. The guard chewed his lower lip for a moment, so Kir drove the lie home.

"We can wait, if you want to go check with the Warmancer. I’m sure she’ll be willing to let us go, and maybe have someone else cover your post," Kir said.

"Hmm... alright. But don’t move," the guard finally said, looking at the still-lit interior of the Syndicate building as he jogged off in that direction.

Noir let out a relieved breath. "I’m so glad that worked, now let’s get this gate open."

Kir and Caroon did the heavy lifting, getting the crossbar off of its mounts and then pushing the gate open.

They shut it behind them, hurrying as fast as they could make the strider move in the dark, and were an hour to the north when Kir finally realized...

"We forgot Cheshire and Stella!"

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