Malevolence Conflict

A quick note: this story is being cowritten with my friend Megan. It can also be found in her port mw1993



Part One: Annihilation of Peace

Chapter One: Origins

Chirrane walked through the marketplace quickly, ignoring the myriad of people bustling past the stalls. The noise was deafening; people were bartering the cost of items, arguing with stallholders and with each other. Children ran unchecked, shrieking their enjoyment.

Chirrane shuffled on her feet, not quite sure where to go. Stallholders reached out to her from every direction, detailing the wares they offered, bellowing the supposedly fair prices.

"Lass! Fifteen chakrii for a bolt of the finest Pinnama'lk silk, many colours!" a leering stallholder called. Chirrane rolled her eyes.

"Fifteen chakrii for a bolt of dyed goats' hide, don't you mean, Kemmen?" Chirrane yelled back sarcastically. "Bloody robber!" Kemmen swore viciously at her and turned away, not bothering to argue with the wise woman's helper.

Disgusted by the behaviour of the stallholder, Chirrane stormed off towards the shack she called home, ignoring the raucous yelling of the many stallholders attempting to get her attention. Chirrane broke into a run; time was running out and she needed to reach home by sundown.

Chirrane was about fifty metres away from the servants exit and was getting closer every second; the sun was almost completely set. The post-dusk darkness grew thicker and silence reigned. A cold so deep it froze one's very bones settled and Chirrane stopped, her breath misting before her.

"Oh, horseshit," she muttered to herself. In the silence, her voice and breath was deafeningly loud. Chirrane started; what had she just heard?

Incessant whispers filled the night air, speaking a strange tongue. Chirrane rotated slowly on the spot, trying to find the source of the whispers; was she surrounded or were the town children simply playing with her mind again? The whispers intensified, seeming to grow louder.

"Chirrane kenatarr l'ylk Jorwyn manakaa...Jorwyn sila mort'e... Chirrane kish'taa amore'lk...mort'e come'yr...mort'e come'yr... Erai sila mort'elk bair... demmon'lk sila mort'elk bair..."

Chirrane swore again, deciding in a split second that this was no youthful prank.

The demons had come.

Chirrane hesitated for barely a moment before making up her mind; no mortal could hope to do battle with even the weakest demon and live. She bolted, throwing herself through the servants' exit. She sprinted the last stretch of path to home, forcing herself not to scream as invisible hands brushed up against her. Her dark brown hair whipped her face as she ran, threatening to break free of its tie.

The demons seemed to be teasing her, testing her strength in mind, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. The same question kept flitting across her consciousness, why were they toying with her, she should have been dead minutes ago. She breathed a sigh of relief as she finally reached the shack, safe at last. Opening the door, Chirrane crept inside, careful not to disturb Tarra. The air was thick with the smell of burning incense and herbs, used to ward off the demons of the far reaches. Tarra was kneeling in front of an emerald green fire, throwing animal corpses into the flames, praying quietly to the gods, El'lira and Le'aril. It was Tarra's ritual, her way of begging the gods for protection. Chirrane stood a few metres behind Tarra, listening to the prayer and offering her own simultaneously. Tarra's thinning grey hair bore a greenish haze in the firelight, the wrinkles on her aged face deepening in the dim light. As Tarra's prayer drew to a close, Chirrane spoke.

"Tarra? Tarra, I'm back."

"Aye, lass, that you are," Tarra murmured, standing to face the green-eyed girl. "Late again - did you get through safely?" Chirrane bit her lip, unsure of what to say.

"Uh... yeah, sure Tarra. It was fine. Kemmen tried to swindle fifteen chakrii out of our coffers again," she said, attempting to joke with the wise woman. Tarra nodded vacantly.

"You never were a good liar, Chirrane. The demons found ye, did they not?"

"How did you know?"

"The augury said as much, lass," Tarra replied. "Chirrane, you are a lass of but sixteen summers. You cannot hope to do battle with the demons. That be why I set ye curfew. Sundown and no later."

Chirrane sighed. "Tarra, I know. But I can look after myself, I don't need..,"

Tarra cut across Chirrane's vexed reply. "Chirrane, when ye parents died they entrusted me with taking care of ye, and so I'm gunna fulfil the promise I made them. Sundown and no later." With that final comment, Tarra gestured to Chirrane's curtained-off corner of the shack. Chirrane obeyed the wordless command without complaint.
~~
Sweat glistened on Jorwyn's bare chest as he wrestled with Marrin, his comrade in the army. Jorwyn barely registered the heat of the midday sun, his mind consumed with one thought; beat Marrin. Jorwyn grunted in pain as Marrin swung a fist into the side of his face. He responded in kind, with a vicious knee to the groin. Marrin doubled over, gasping for breath.

"You evil man," he gasped. Jorwyn laughed.

"All's fair in love, war and wrestling, Marrin," he joked, helping his friend to his feet. Marrin took the helping hand gratefully.

"Bastard."

Jorwyn roared with laughter as Marrin limped away. Grabbing his shirt off the ground, Jorwyn ruffled his brown hair for the benefit of the young women watching him hungrily. He suppressed another laugh as they all sighed rapturously. Senika, his mother, pursed her lips as Jorwyn walked towards her.

"Jorwyn, you must refrain from flirting with the ladies," Lady Senika said sternly. Jorwyn laughed again.

"Mother, it is the only entertainment I have outside of my training. And the ladies certainly enjoy it," he added as an afterthought. "Just think of it like this; I'm just doing exactly what you do to men. Except I do it with women." Senika glared at her sixteen-year-old son, and then stormed off with as dignified an air as she could muster. The ladies observing the scene all giggled. Jorwyn rolled his eyes as he threw on his shirt and vest. One of the ladies, gathering her courage and an entourage of girlfriends, approached him.

"Jorwyn," she murmured reverently.

"A'icha," Jorwyn acknowledged the blonde girl with a lazy nod. A'icha's girlfriends all giggled.

"Jorwyn, be you occupied tonight?" A'icha ventured to ask. Jorwyn almost laughed again.

"Indeed I be occupied, A'icha," Jorwyn said, turning to face her. "I have much better things to do with the hours past sundown than bed whores such as yourself." A'icha's jaw dropped.

"How dare you call me such a name! You filthy, filthy bastard of a soldier!" A'icha's fury was evident on her angelic features. Her girlfriends, equally angelic, stood behind her and tried to withhold their humour. The lovely A'icha looked Jorwyn up and down one last time, hissed another insult and slapped him sharply before turning on her heel and stalking off. Jorwyn feigned shock for a few seconds, and then began to laugh as he walked off into the barracks.

Jorwyn's entry into the barracks cued a storm of laughter from his comrades.

"Calling Lady A'icha a whore..."

"Only you, Jorwyn..."

"Priceless..."

Jorwyn laughed with his friends for a moment.

"She deserved every word I said. That slut has bedded every man this side of Xyn'ta."

This comment brought a new wave of laughter.

"Just like your mother, eh, Jorwyn," laughed Marrin

"That's right," Jorwyn agreed. "Those two whores are just as bad as each other; they're probably related for all I know."

"That means you were being hit on by your relative," interjected Corryn.

"imagine if you said yes, the poor kids wouldn't know if you were their uncle or their father". Teased Marrin

the rest of the soldiers joined in the fresh wave of laughter.

"Atten-hut!" the bellow echoed through the barracks and every man leapt to attention.

"Sir!" the simultaneous yell was the soldiers' only response to their General's call to attention.

"Now you filthy excuse for Privates, listen here!" General Varranik bellowed. Jorwyn rolled his eyes again; his father was so ... enthusiastic. "I want you all back here at sunup. The Emperor's representative in Y'ryn would like to see our regiment on parade, and every single one of you leeches had better be here! Clear?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"When do you have to be here?"

"Sunup, sir!" Jorwyn remained resolutely silent as his comrades obediently yelled their replies to his father. Varranik cast one last, observant eye over his teenaged soldiers. His gaze rested on his son and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened.

"Dismissed!" The soldiers bustled to return to their homes.

Jorwyn joined Marrin and Corryn as they walked to the Castle.

"you're a bunch of suck-ups, you know that. Yes, sir, no, sir, thanks sir, can I kiss your arse sir." Jorwyn mimicked spitefully. "damned halfwits."

"well sorry if we don't want the skin whipped off our arses" Corryn snapped

" its not like our father is the general of the emperor's army. You're a spoilt brat, Jorwyn, with your money and your safety and your favour in the emperor's eyes. And oh, yeah, every damned woman in the city wanting to find herself in your bed." Snarled Marrin.

"oh, you just think my life is so good don't you, well I think you need to wake up to yourselves, try having a mother that is a complete whore and spends every night with some other man in bed, and a father who at home treats you like you are still at work. Life is not that great for me you know. At least you have a family that actually gives a damn about you" Jorwyn was at the edge of breaking down but forced himself to be strong before his fellows.

"and as for the women, well I couldn't give a rats arse about them, I am yet to find a woman that actually likes me for who I am and not what I look like"

Marrin and Corryn sniggered at him and Corryn stalked off. "Little prick!" he called over his shoulder. Marrin remained, glaring at Jorwyn.

"Whoreson," he hissed vehemently. Jorwyn inhaled deeply, clenching his fists. He began to turn away, restraining the urge to hit out at his 'friend'. "Too weak to even fight..." he heard Marrin mutter. Jorwyn froze.

Then he snapped.

Turning swiftly on his heel, he swung his fist into Marrin's ribs. He heard a snap as he fist collided and Marrin doubled over with pain. A second swing and Marrin was down on the ground, a gash on his face bleeding freely. Jorwyn kicked out, crushing the other soldier's nose. Marrin groaned, blood flowing.

"too weak to fight, eh" Jorwyn growled, punctuating each word with a vicious kick in Marrin's gut. And with that, he turned and ran, leaving Marrin to freeze in the dark.

Chapter Two: Meetings
Jorwyn didn't stop running until the sun began to rise over the Mountains of the Icedragons, anger coursing through his veins. He stopped and leant over, his hands on his knees as he regained his breath.

Where was he?

As he straightened, Jorwyn noticed a L'millen skull propped on a stake. Jorwyn swore quietly; he was in the demesne of Y'ryn's wise woman, Tarra. He glanced over his shoulder, knowing he couldn't go back to the upper-class district of Y'ryn where he belonged. His savage beating of Marrin may have been provoked, but it would still result in his exile from the army of the Sh'resh Empire. The Emperor, in the capital of Amryn, had little patience for wilful men such as Jorwyn, regardless of their age and circumstances. Also, he could not bring himself to shame his father so; Varranik was a proud man who had never truly loved his son. Senika was purely cold-hearted.

With another hissed oath, Jorwyn sat beneath the skull of the L'millen and allowed himself to be enveloped in sleep.

~

When Jorwyn awoke, it was late afternoon. He surveyed the landscape sleepily, his joints stiff from sleeping against a plank of wood. Arching his back, Jorwyn stood slowly. The land around him was forest, perfect for hunting... and hiding. Stretching once more, Jorwyn walked off into the forestland.

~~
Chirrane awoke just as the sun was rising. Beyond the curtain, she could hear Tarra busying herself with breakfast. .

"Chirrane, lass!" the old wise woman called. "Get up; you're wasting daylight!" Chirrane sighed and threw off the thin blanket. Silently, she cursed as she put on her simple brown dress, bringing it in at the waist with a length of old rope. Glancing into a small, reflective piece of glass, Chirrane dragged her fingers through her shoulder-length brown hair to loosen any knots before tying it back lazily.

Chirrane glanced at her reflection again and swore bitterly. Her olive skin and vividly green eyes marked her as a foreigner in the state of Burakeshida and she hated that. Living with Y'ryn's wise woman only served to alienate her even more.

Not that she wanted to mingle, of course.

Chirrane swiped the curtain out of the way, striding into the main part of the shack. Tarra was tending to a normal-coloured fire for once, cooking a L'millen broth. Chirrane frowned cynically as she grabbed a hunk of bread off the small table. Eating it slowly, she watched Tarra turn away from the broth and light several sticks of incense. Chirrane rolled her eyes as the scents filled the shack. There were three scents that Tarra relied on: dragonsblood, bitter and metallic; nightbane, nutty and mysterious; and shadowsbreath, stormy and rain-like. Tarra swore by them, convinced that they warded off the darkest of the Darke. Chirrane normally had faith in them, normally she had faith in all Tarra's healermagic, but today her mood did not allow for it.

"Why are you bothering with that shit, Tarra?" Chirrane snapped. "It's not like a stick of ... of ... dragonsblood will ward off the Darke Queen!" Slowly, Tarra turned to face Chirrane.

"Dare ye disbelieve the gift bestowed upon me? Dare ye disrespect the magic?" Tarra' voice trembled with fury.

"The gift, the magic, it all sounds like a whole heap of complete bullshit to me. Like it'll protect anyone... 'Oh horseshit, the demons are coming! The Darke Queen is coming! But no... I'm saved! I've got my trusty dried-up compressed herb to save me! I'll just light it up and the fumes will save me! And maybe I'll get stoned as a bonus!' Yeah, sure, whatever Tarra. Like I said complete and utter bullshit."

"How dare ye speak to your elders like that, ye disrespectful little cow"

"I'll speak to you however I bloody well want to Tarra. I'm sixteen now - you can't control me!" Chirrane was on her feet now, fists clenched and face pink with anger.

"Ye little cow, ye don't deserve me hospitality! You're only alive because ye parents hid ye with me ye ungrateful lass! I've kept ye alive, ye swine!" Tarra shot back. Chirrane scowled.

"Oh, whatever, you senile old hag. I'm going hunting." Chirrane grabbed her hunting pack with some food, her bow, quiver and dagger. With a steady stream of oaths, she strode out of Tarra's shack.

Chirrane walked swiftly through the forest, her beautiful dark brown hair seeming to float in the breeze. Her green eyes were full of anger and alertness, her bow and arrow at the ready for any sign of prey -- or predator -- that she may come across.

"I'll teach that pathetic old wretch to tell me what I can and can't do," Chirrane hissed. "Thinks she's better than me because she's older? Well I'll teach her, the stupid gods-damned bitch." Chirrane swore violently, letting the bowstring grow lax. Replacing her ivory arrow in the quiver, she attached the bow to her rope belt and pulled her dagger from its scabbard. She studied the blade carefully; it had been well kept but was nonetheless showing its age - several nicks could be seen in the metal. Angrily, expertly, she threw it at the nearest tree. It buried itself hilt-deep in the wood.

Chirrane gave up on hunting for anything; she wasn't going to be successful in her present frame of mind. She yanked the dagger from the tree, sheathed it and continued walking.

~

Chirrane walked in swift, endless circles through the forest, swearing to herself incessantly and roundly abusing Tarra.

"Gods damned bitch... senile hag... horseshit for brains... damn her to hell!" Chirrane muttered to herself vindictively. "Damn her... let her rot in hell for all eternity!"

And with that Chirrane flung one of her arrows as hard and fast as she could towards a tree, expressing every ounce of anger she felt towards Tarra.

A moan of pain came from where the arrow had rested. A young man, handsome and muscled, stood before the tree Chirrane had just loosed her arrow at. He was extremely well dressed, if a little roughed-up; he was clearly a noble. He appeared to be about sixteen; Chirrane's own age. She tried to keep her eyes averted; she didn't want him to see that his handsomeness pleased her.

"Bloody hell, watch where you aim that thing next time, you stupid bitch!" snapped the young man, blood dripping down the side of his face from a cut on his ear.

"I shot my arrow towards the tree. Your stupid blockhead just happened to be in the road, so don't start talking to me about bad aim! You're the one who should be looking where your going, rich boy," Chirrane shot back, and with that she turned to leave.

"Wait, aren't you even going to apologise for what you did! That bloody arrow of your's almost went through my ear!"

Chirrane laughed sardonically. "Men! You're all a bunch of crybabies! Well unlike you, pretty boy, I don't get my food served on a silver platter. I have to hunt for it, or work my arse off to earn enough money to buy some. So don't you start talking to me about apologising, if anyone is to apologise, it should be you and your good-for-nothing wealthy friends."

"Hang on, what have we ever done to you?" he seemed very surprised at the anger this young lady had bestowed upon him, especially since he had only just met her.

"If it wasn't for you and your other stuck-up friends, my parents would not be dead, and I wouldn't be stuck here, living in a dump of a shack with that scungy old bitch of a lady, who would rather cast spells and sacrifice animals to the gods than give a damn about me." Chirrane said coldly

The young man stood dumbfounded; a woman before had never treated him with such disregard. Normally they lay worshipping the very ground he walked on, trying to get his attention. This woman seemed not to give a rat's arse about him, and would rather swear and fight than even look at him. It was a though she wished he was dead.

"You can't blame any of your shit on me, girl. I'm nothing more than a soldier!"

"Does it really look like I care who you are? Now if you would excuse me, I must be off; I think I hear a L'millen somewhere over there, and my life will be worth living even less if I don't get back home before sundown" Chirrane said, an element of finality in her detached tones. Without another word she turned and strutted into the surrounding forest.

The young soldier swore under his breath before turning around and heading off into the trees himself. As he walked, he studied the arrow that the mysterious girl had left behind. It was of beautiful craftsmanship, like nothing he had ever seen before. It looked as though it was made of pure ivory. It was fletched with beautiful multi-coloured feathers, giving it perfect flight and accuracy. The point of the arrow was extremely sharp. It was the ideal weapon, perfect for hunting... and killing.

"Who was that girl? She carries weapons fit for a king, but she looks like a recluse," Jorwyn muttered to himself.

Jorwyn touched his ear gingerly; it was throbbing painfully. The arrow had skimmed past his face and taken most of the skin off his ear. Fresh blood trickled down the side of his face, warm against his cold cheek.

"That bitch could have killed me," mumbled Jorwyn, clearly angered by the strange girl.

"So I'm a bitch now, eh," said Chirrane, arrow at the ready, "I was going to help you... but now I've changed my mind. I'll be taking my arrow and leaving, thank you very much!"

"Well then, in that case I'm not giving your arrow back" replied the handsome soldier. "It would be of great use to me. I've had the most terrible itch on my back for days now." he smiled, whilst scratching his back teasingly with Chirrane's arrow.

The sun was beginning to set; a sudden urgency came over Chirrane's voice.

"Fine then, I'll help you, but only if you manage to keep a decent pace. The sun's almost set. Tarra will kill me if I'm not back before curfew... if the demons don't get us first."

And with that Chirrane took off, keeping a few metres between herself and the soldier, who followed her purely out of shock.

Night had fallen and a strange and eerie silence hung in the air, the man and Chirrane were only metres away from the shack when the demon whispers came.

"Chirrane kenatarr l'ylk Jorwyn manakaa...Jorwyn sila mort'e... Chirrane kish'taa amore'lk...mort'e come'yr...mort'e come'yr... Erai sila mort'elk bair... demmon'lk sila mort'elk bair..."

"Horseshit! Hurry up, pretty boy!" Chirrane snarled.

"Wh-what's going on?"

"Demons, gods damn you! Demons!"

"Wh-whats a demon" the fear clearly showed in the handsome young soldiers shaky voice

"You will soon find out, pretty boy... very soon"

Moments later the voices stopped their chanting and an eerie silence enveloped them, slowly the voices began again, getting louder and louder until the whole forest seemed to echo will the shrill chanting of the demons. Hands were reaching out from every direction brushing against their faces, pulling their hair and clothes, whilst continuing the malicious chanting of the same verse over and over again. Chirrane and the handsome soldier were simultaneously hissing every swearword they knew in a steady stream.

"Oh horseshit, if it wasn't for you pretty boy we would have been safe by now"

"So it's my fault again eh, well if you had just helped me in the first place we wouldn't be in this position, you stupid whore"

Chirrane fell silent, her olive skin pale. The soldier registered this change with mild shock as they continued to run. She remained completely quiet until -- finally -- the shack came into view.

The young soldier and Chirrane threw themselves through the doorway of the shack. Chirrane swung the handsome soldier around to face her.

"What's your name, pretty boy?" Chirrane asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

"Uh... Jorwyn," he replied. Chirrane nodded.

"Okay. I'm Chirrane," she said, still dangerous. "And I've got some business to attend to..." Chirrane swung her fist into Jorwyn's face. Blood flowed from his nose.

"Fuck!" Jorwyn swore, surprised.

"If you ever call me a whore again, I swear to the gods that I will punch you ten times as hard as I just did and knock out all your teeth!" Chirrane raged, before punching Jorwyn in the jaw, causing him to swear again. "And don't say that word again, either!"

"What, fuck?"

Chirrane hit Jorwyn again. "Yes, gods damn you, that word!" Jorwyn grabbed Chirrane by the shoulders, swinging her into the wall.

"You gods damned bitch! Who the hell do you think you are? You can't talk to me like that, I'm General Varranik's and lady Senika's son, you stuck up cow. Jorwyn continued to rage and swear but Chirrane didn't hear a single word he said. She could see his lips moving out of the corner of her eye, but her vision was focused behind him. The sight she saw was the most horrific she had ever seen.

Tarra was lying in Chirrane's small corner of the shack. The tattered curtain had been torn down and was partially covering the old woman. It was saturated with blood. Apart from a livid bruise on her cheek, Tarra's face was untouched.

What was that curtain covering?

Chirrane gagged, alerting Jorwyn of the scene behind him. The soldier spun around, stiffening as he took in the grisly sight.

"Who is that woman?" he asked quietly.

"Tarra... I live... lived with her."

Jorwyn nodded, walking towards the body on the floor. Tentatively, he knelt and removed the curtain to reveal the mangled corpse of Tarra. Slowly he stood and dropped the curtain. Chirrane walked forwards hesitantly, glancing over his shoulder and immediately regretting it.

She spun around, retching, throwing up everything she'd eaten.

Everything below Tarra's shoulders was completely shredded. Shattered white bone could be seen through semi-congealed blood and gore. Skin hung in strips off the bone. Guts had spilled out of her stomach, their contents adding another layer to the gore. Blood had spread around the body, soaking into the earthen floor and turning it to mud. It had spread surprisingly far, in a large circle around her. Tarra's grey hair was sticky and matted; patches of coagulated blood had gathered there. The metallic, sickly sweet smell of blood hung in the air.

"What kind of sick monster could have done this... this horrible thing?" Chirrane's voice was shaken but apart from that no particular emotion was perceptible.

"A fucking bloody mongrel, that's what," Jorwyn snarled.

Chirrane stood in silence while Jorwyn cursed quietly to himself. She was too shocked to hear him properly, too shocked to follow through with her threat to hit him for swearing. She looked around the shack she called home, something was missing, something was very wrong...

Incense.

There was no incense burning! The sticks were sitting in their holders, as dead as the woman who had lit them.

"Pretty boy, the incense... the incense, bring it here!" Chirrane's voice had a sudden element of fear to it.

"The what?"

"Horseshit! Hurry up and bring me the dried up compressed herbs! Sticks - box - bring - here! Now!"

The whispers, the demons' whispers, had resumed, closer than ever. Chirrane screamed a curse as the demons grew louder.

"Oh horseshit...they're coming... pretty boy, the herbs...light them now!" Jorwyn and Chirrane scrabbled for the fire but it was deadened. Even the ashes held no heat.

In a last, desperate bid, Chirrane half-buried a stick of dragonsblood in the ashes. She almost cried out as it lit.

Chirrane knelt in the centre of the shack, holding the stick of incense before her like a weapon. A sense of pure euphoria and hilarity overtook her and she almost burst out laughing; hadn't she argued with Tarra about this just this morning?

"Chirrane, what on the gods names are you doing? Crazy bitch!"

"Saving our arses, that's what, pretty boy!"

Jorwyn fell silent, watching as Chirrane prayed urgently. They screamed simultaneously as a gust of wind rattled through the shack, snuffing out the incense. Chirrane shrieked furiously, glaring at the stick of dragonsblood. She hastily tried to relight the incense.

But it was too late...

Shimmering pillars of mist appeared in every corner, every metre of the shack covered. Surreptitiously, Jorwyn and Chirrane crept closer together. The tallest pillar of air solidified, forming into a creature that had never been described... because no one ever survived an encounter with one.

It was over seven feet tall, thin and angular. It seemed to be made entirely of black and red shadows, with empty, gaping eye sockets. Its hands ended in four razor sharp talons, curved and jagged. Its mouth, barely open, was filled with black emptiness, apart from rows of bloodstained white serrated teeth.

A demon.

"Holy shit!" Jorwyn swore out loud

"Be still, mortal, or I shall rip out your tongue," the demon hissed coldly, " I am Reve, Viceroy of the Far Reaches, second only to the Darke Queen herself."

"What do you want?" Chirrane whispered hoarsely. Reve laughed sardonically as more demons, virtually identical to him but smaller, solidified around him and the two teenagers.

"We want..," Reve hissed. "You." The demons around them stirred, excited at the prospect of fresh prey. Chanting their strange verse, the demons lunged towards their victims, hissing madly. Their large talons dug deeply into them painfully, ripping their flesh, slowing dragging them out of the shack and into the chains that had been prepared for them. Chirrane and Jorwyn struggled and screamed futilely. Reve waved his taloned hand lazily and two of the lesser demons surged forward, manically rapturous expressions on their shadowlike faces. The two captives tensed as the demons reached them, arms raised. Then everything went black.

Chapter Three: Prisoners

Chirrane groaned, semi-conscious, as pain racked her entire body. With another groan, she slowly opened her eyes and looked around.

She was chained to a wall; Jorwyn was in the same predicament beside her, still unconscious. They were in a prison of some kind. The walls, floor and roof were of brimstone and the stench was overwhelming; the smell of blood, excrement and rotting flesh hung thickly in the air. Chirrane dry retched; she had nothing left to expel from her system.

"Oh, horseshit. Horseshit. Horseshit. Horseshit!" She screamed the last word, jolting Jorwyn into consciousness.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed wildly, struggling against his bonds. "Prisoners... why?... Oh, fuck no!"

Chirrane glared at Jorwyn. "Consider yourself lucky that we're both bound or I'd break your nose, pretty boy," she hissed. "As it happens, I'll put it down as an I-owe-you." Jorwyn looked startled.

"Look, girl, what's going on?"

"Take a look around, pretty boy. We're in a shithole of a cage that stinks of rotting gods-know-what. Figure it out for yourself."

"Bloody hell, they got us, didn't they? The demons?"

"That would be apparent." Chirrane replied coldly. "Horseshit for brains," she thought. She strained at her bonds again, feeling the icy chains cut into her wrists. Hearing a heavy lock clicking, she froze, alert. A demon strode into the cell.

"Pathetic mortals."

Chirrane studied the demon's face; its lips hadn't moved and yet she'd heard a voice, clear as day, like the whispers that had plagued the nighttime.

"We're not pathetic," she whispered. "If anyone's pathetic, it's you and your filthy demon friends." Jorwyn looked at her, confused; he hadn't heard a thing.

The demon leered at Chirrane. "You hear thought, girl-child?"

"You sent it to me."

"Did Nafe?" the demon cackled. "Little mortals come with Nafe now. Little mortals feel pain... squirmy, bloody, screamy pain!" Nafe flicked his hand and the chains holding Jorwyn and Chirrane disconnected from the wall. With a second flicking motion, the ends into his outstretched hands. Not waiting for them to stand, Nafe turned and walked off, dragging Chirrane and Jorwyn behind him.

~

Chirrane and Jorwyn were unceremoniously tied to separate tables. Two demons stood around Jorwyn; one was holding a lit torch, the other a silver dagger. A third approached the soldier and ripped his shirt off, dropping it onto the floor. It then walked away from Jorwyn, focusing instead on Chirrane. It stood beside her, gazing at her hungrily.

Chirrane was dimly aware of Jorwyn and the demons beside him. They had heated the dagger in the torch and were holding it to the tender flesh of his inner elbow. Jorwyn was refusing to cry out.

Chirrane's focus was wrenched back to herself as the demon's hand moved to hover over her chest. Its hand slowly moved down to her stomach and then stopped. A saw-toothed dagger materialised in its hand. It leered at her again and then swung downwards with the knife.

It punctured the flesh on her stomach; a shallow wound, but painful. With a laugh, it twisted the dagger slowly in the cut, shredding the flesh. Tears pricked in Chirrane's eyes but she refused to let her pain show, she, and Jorwyn, remained resolutely silent as they were tortured. It repeated this torture several times.

The demon gave a low growl and pulled the dagger out of Chirrane's stomach, further shredding her skin. With one talon, it traced along the curvature of her breasts, bringing a line of blood to the surface. Warm blood flowed over her skin and the torn material of her dress.

The demon gestured to its fellows.

"Let's go - these ones give no enjoyment," it thought. A brief look of confusion crossed Chirrane's face; why did they want her to hear that? The other demons nodded and untied the two prisoners. Jorwyn's chest and arms were covered with vicious-looking, weeping burns. His face was set in grim resolve; he wasn't planning on weakening any time soon.

Jorwyn looked at Chirrane; her torso was bloodied and torn flesh was visible. A thin line of blood on her breast caught his attention but he forced himself to look away.

Chirrane and Jorwyn were led out of the torture cell and into a dark passageway lined with cells. Through the bars, semi-composed bodies, both dead and alive, could be seen. Prisoners sent mad by torture and being caged shrieked and beat at the bars like wild animals. They were all emaciated, their eyes sunken into their skulls and all the bones visible on the partly naked bodies.

Pain racked through Chirrane's entire body. Jorwyn lay on the ground beside her, not a single word escaped his lips. She studied the wounds that the demons had inflicted upon him. Yellow pus seeped out of the many burns he had received, his skin was reddened and blisters had started to form underneath the skin.

"May you sleep peacefully tonight mortals, as it may be your last" hissed Nafe coldly

Jorwyn managed to sit and glare at Nafe as he strode away.

"Pathetic, that's what you are Nafe, and all of your fellows. Bloody pathetic vermin" jeered Jorwyn

"We shall see mortal, we shall see," Nafe's voice trailed off into nothingness, the only noise left was the distant howling of the many hostages taken captive by the demons.
Reaching for her side, Chirrane rose from the ground; blood trickled over her hand, soaking into her dress. Pain coursed through her body as she seized the bottom of her dress, tearing at the hem to form a large bandage. Whilst instructing Jorwyn not to look, Chirrane strapped the bandage around the ragged wound the demon had created, binding it tightly to hopefully slow down blood loss.

"I would bind up your wounds too, pretty boy, except by the time I was finished I would have no dress left."

"I wouldn't mind," joked Jorwyn "By the time we figure out how to get out of this shit hole, we'll have no clothing left anyway. I've already been stripped of my shirt"

Chirrane forced a smile.

"You'll just have to wait till then now, won't you pretty boy."

"Sadly."

Chirrane turned away, feeling and examining the walls for any sign of escape. Just one slightly loosened stone was all they needed, but the bricks were packed tightly and expertly. Jorwyn watched her closely, almost angrily; why was she wasting her time with half-arsed escape plans?

"Girl?"

"What?" Chirrane snapped angrily, glaring at him fleetingly before resuming her search.

"There is not escape."

"According to who, pretty boy?"

"Ah... history. No one's ever escaped from demons, shithead!" Jorwyn stood, wincing at the pain of his burns. "Wake up to yourself."

Chirrane smiled at Jorwyn cynically. "Fine then, when I escape, which I will, you are not welcome to follow."

Jorwyn laughed.

"Whatever, bitch!"

~

Chirrane had discovered an ideal way to piss Jorwyn off.

She'd found a way out.

A small area of brick floor, right in the corner, was loose. She could see it, underneath a pile of human bones. But she didn't want to touch them. Nor did she want to ask Jorwyn to help her. Reluctantly Chirrane forced herself towards the pile of bones; slowly she reached out, grabbing a skull and pegging it over her shoulder. She held back laughter as Jorwyn swore, surprised.

"What the hell? What, you're assaulting me with skulls now, are you? Fucking hell..." He ducked as Chirrane threw another bone at him.

"That's for swearing," she said happily before throwing another bone at him, which hit him squarely in the chest. "And I think I owed you that one." Jorwyn hissed a curse under his breath

"What is wrong with you"?

"Oh horseshit, the stupid bloody brick thing won't move" Chirrane stood, kicking the stone and cursing at it irately.

"Hey, settle down! It's just a stone."

"Its not just a stone, gods damn you, Its our ticket out. So hurry up and get your but over here and lift the stupid bloody thing"

Jorwyn walked towards Chirrane with exaggerated slowness, grinning at her cheekily. "You sure it's a way out?"

"Yes! Now stop fooling around and help me before the demons come back!"

"And why should I help you, girl? Give me three good reasons."

"Oh, gods help me!" Chirrane muttered exasperatedly. "Fine: One; we need to get out of here. Two; we'll die if we stay. Three; if you don't, I'll smash your face in!"

Jorwyn tilted his head to the side, pretending to think. Chirrane glared at him, losing patience rapidly.

"Well, that's a toughie... I'd have to sleep on it..."

Chirrane strode towards him and swung a fist into his face. "Gods damn you!" she shrieked. "Help me!" Jorwyn looked at Chirrane; her expression was fevered, desperate: she was terrified. He bit back a retort and nodded silently. Slowly Jorwyn lifted the stone, grunting with pain as the stone finally lifted. The smell of mold filled the air as dust swept out of the hole, enveloping them and making there eyes water.

"So much for being a shithead eh Jorwyn" Chirrane smiled "cause from where I'm standing it looks like I've found a way out"

"oh shut up bitch, it was just a coincidence, beginners luck"

"Whatever. I think you owe me an apology pretty boy" Chirrane smiled before disappearing into the darkness.
~~
Chirrane screamed as something bit into her leg, its teeth burrowing deeply into the fresh wound it had created.

"Stupid bloody rats, I'll kill you all" cursed Chirrane, "If I had my dagger right now I would stab all of you, stinking bloody vermin" And with that Chirrane kicked the rat as hard and fast as she could, clearly showing all of her anger.

"We've been walking for hours in this shithole, and we still haven't found a way out," snapped Jorwyn, "were probably going to die down here and then the rats will eat our dead rotting bodies, that's if they don't eat us alive first"

"I thought you were a strong fearless soldier, pretty boy, not a pathetic cry baby"

"oh shut up Chirrane"

Chirrane looked at the shadowy silhouette of Jorwyn, too shocked to form a retort. "Wh-what did you just call me?"

"Um... your name?" Jorwyn replied, squinting in the dim light. "Chirrane is your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, but... You've never called me by my name before."

Jorwyn grinned, a futile action in the gloom. "There's a first time for everything."

"Yeah, I guess so... Jorwyn."

~~

"Horseshit!" Chirrane swore as her head hit the roof of the tunnel sharply. Jorwyn laughed and pushed past her.

"If that's the end of the tunnel, then it's the way out." Jorwyn pushed against the roof. A grinding noise filled the tunnel and Chirrane and Jorwyn flinched; had the demons heard?

None of the lanky, vicious demons came running, so Jorwyn pushed against the roof again; this time, a square portion of it slid away to reveal glorious, blissful light. Jorwyn offered his hand out to Chirrane. Chirrane ignored it stubbornly and lifted herself out of the tunnel, ignoring the smarting dagger wounds the demons had inflicted upon her. Slowly, she scrambled out of the tunnel, and stood, eyes like saucers.

They had found the demons' armoury.

Jorwyn climbed more swiftly out of the tunnel and swore at the sight of the endless and varied supply of weapons.

"Whoa," Chirrane whispered. "Whoa." Jorwyn glanced at her.

"Now this is cool." Jorwyn sidled past Chirrane, reaching for light, leather armour. "Very nice," he commented to himself, throwing on a white shirt from a pile of discarded clothing. He then pulled on the light armour. "Sweet." Chirrane rolled her eyes as Jorwyn explored the armoury, his face ecstatic. She glanced around, and then froze; her bow and quiver of arrows was a few metres away. With an incredulous grin, she retrieved her weapons, holding the quiver close as if to protect it from further harm. Almost unconsciously she attached the quiver to her belt and slung the arrow over her shoulder. Frowning at the slightly cumbersome arranging, she cast the immediate area a swift glance and located a case. It was made of supple, undecorated leather. With a single, businesslike nod, she placed her bow in the case and strapped it over her shoulder.

Just as she reached for her dagger, Chirrane heard a clattering and a muttered curse behind her. Turning around, Chirrane almost burst out laughing; Jorwyn had acquired most of the armoury and was determined to carry it out. His arms were laden with sheathed swords, knives and various other weapons. With a triumphant grin, he dropped his collection on the floor.

"I want all this!" he stated cheerfully. Chirrane struggled to contain her laughter, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"No. Not all of it, Jorwyn."

"What?" Jorwyn looked genuinely crestfallen. For all the world, he looked like a child in a sweetmeats shop. Chirrane rolled her eyes.

"Because we won't be able to run very far with all that in tow. A sword, a knife, a shield. Essentials only, Jorwyn."

"What is the fun in that?"

"There is no fun in running away from murderous demons Jorwyn, so unless you wish to be tortured again I suggest that you hurry up and pick something"

"Like a fight"

"Don't get me started Jorwyn, you know I can hit pretty hard and I'm not afraid to"

"Ok, ok, don't get all pissed at me"

Satisfied, Chirrane turned away.

"Stupid bitch" Jorwyn scolded

"Call me that again, and it won't be my fist in your face, it'll be my arrow"

Hurriedly, Jorwyn packed up the 'essential items' he was allowed to take, choosing a gleaming silver sword of perfect craftsmanship; perfectly balanced between the blade and the handle, a small 'plain' dagger, and a beautiful shield, decorated with gold trimmings and a beautiful design of a green and gold dragon. Chirrane rolled her eyes again.

"Okay, fine," she muttered.

Turning around, Chirrane reached for a pile of what looked like shiny clumps of metal, twined together to make some kind of clothing.

"What's this?" Chirrane's puzzled expression startled Jorwyn.

"You don't know what this is?"

"No, I can't say I do."

"Finally, I know something that you don't!" Jorwyn looked ecstatic at this turn of events.

"Well sorry if I didn't grow up in some smart arse expensive quarter of town, like you did. Try living in an area like mine, you're lucky if you even knew how to spell let alone identify pieces of metal."

"Oh, shut up, Chirrane, and just put it on."

"Make me," Chirrane snapped. Jorwyn sighed.

"It's a haubergeon, Chirrane. Armour. Effective," he told her. "Pass it here and I'll wear it if you won't." Chirrane thought about this for a moment.

"What about me, then? Don't I get armour?"

"You find it, you wear it. Simple," Jorwyn replied, grabbing the haubergeon. He put it on over the shirt he'd found - it reached to mid-thigh. "Wouldn't have a coif, would you?"

"A what?" Chirrane asked, bewildered.

"A coif. It's like.... a hood. Of mail. Like the haubergeon," Jorwyn said slowly, relishing the fact he knew things that Chirrane did not.

"Oh.... here."

"Thanks." The coif gave Jorwyn a comical appearance. Once again, Chirrane had to control her amusement; this time, however, she failed. Jorwyn looked startled as Chirrane laughed hysterically.

"You look like an idiot!" she gasped, breathless. Jorwyn shrugged.

"Fact of life," he muttered. "Now, do you want armour or not? Quick-smart!"

"What would I get?" Chirrane asked suspiciously, her humour belied.

Jorwyn studied her carefully. "Well, you're an archer, right?"

"Yeah."

"Leather. Padded. You'd only fight from a distance and it can give you protection for a little while at close quarters, giving you a chance to whip out that dagger of yours," Jorwyn said swiftly. "Can you make your own arrows and..."

"Yes, I'm perfectly capable," Chirrane cut him off. "Now let's get out of here."

Chirrane hurriedly looked around and found a small pile of good leather; taking it off the pile, she studied it carefully. Its brown appearance was shiny in the dim light; slowly, Chirrane pulled the leather vest over her shoulders, reaching just past her hips.

"Ummm, Jorwyn?" Chirrane said hesitantly

"Yes, Chirrane?"

"Well, you see, I've found a leather vest, as you said, but it ties up at the back, not the front."

"So what do you want me to do about it?"

"I was wondering if maybe, you could, help me tie it up...?"

"I will if you ask me properly, with the word 'please' preferably in the sentence," Jorwyn replied, grinning.

Chirrane glared at him.

"Just do it."

"I don't hear the word 'please'," he said teasingly.

"Fine then! Jorwyn, can you please tie up the back of this stupid vest?" Chirrane's voice sounded edgy.

"Sure thing. Now, was it so hard to say please?" Jorwyn tried to hold back his laughter.

As Chirrane turned around, Jorwyn fumbled for the ties and pulled it tight, he heard her gasp.

"Too tight?"

"No! I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

Jorwyn held back his laughter. "Trust Chirrane to act tough," he thought. He smiled at the thought; he knew it was too tight.
Slowly he loosened it, bringing the ties together. He fumbled slightly; he was carefully avoiding actually touching her. One after the other he slowly moved up her back until he reached the middle of her shoulder blades, and then stopped.

"There, done."

"Thanks," Chirrane murmured.

"Now let's get out of here."

"How? The tunnel ended, pretty boy. What are we going to do?" Chirrane snapped. "Just waltz on out?" Jorwyn smiled sarcastically.

"You got a better idea?"

Chirrane glared at him, refusing to admit defeat. Jorwyn grinned at her silence and gestured towards the door.

"After you, milady," he said cynically. Chirrane ignored him and strung her bow. Only then did she walk cautiously from the armoury, arrow at the ready.