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The Black-Feathered Monk Chapter 2 By Draconicon

Sparks of chi and demonic energy alike flew as the raven and the songbird kicked each other away. Satres flipped backwards, landing with ease a few feet back, while the demon managed to catch itself with a flare of its wings. Lightning flew from the heavens, crashing down on the rocks and dying plants all about them.

The raven fixed the smiling demon with a stare, his options flitting through his mind. There was no time for a protracted fight, not when the farmers were still out in the open. The fight at the temple would not last long, one way or another, and there were still demons on the approach from the far side of the mountain. With the burning rain falling, keeping them here would leave them exposed to too many dangers.

Yet, if he sent them on ahead, he would leave them open to further threats that might be waiting down the mountain, and he would not be there to protect them. They would be praying for luck.

Luck may be their greatest savior now...

"What's the matter, novice?" the songbird asked, her wings flickering back to arms, shaded black against her red feathers. "Am I so forgettable?"

"Hardly."

"Then keep your eyes on me...or I'll ensure that you regret it."

The way that she clicked her beak, both tauntingly and hungrily, told him what she wanted. The farmers. Him. Anything that she could get her talons on.

Such was the way of demons. Greed and hunger, ever-present and always consuming, pulling the monsters to do horrible things. It was the difference between a demon and a spirit; one lost itself to its base urges, while the other could control them.

Satres stood up slowly, curling his talons and his fingers alike, the claws at the end of them duller than he would like for a fight. He made his decision.

"Run," he muttered.

"What?" a farmer said. "But...what about..."

"Run. Run as fast as you can."

"But -"

"RUN!"

The command was followed by a kick that launched him from earth to sky, taking him towards the heavens. His feathers rustled in the wind, and he grabbed for them, pulling several from his upper arms. Chi flowed, and they glowed with as much of his energy as he could spare.

He came down with the speed of a diving falcon, and the songbird rose to meet him. She laughed as she flapped her arms, the wings returning. Crackling red lifted her from the earth, and she swung her legs forward, deadly claws reaching for him.

And Satres met them, not with his own talons, but with his feathers.

Yellow light and red met, and the red faltered as he flicked his hands across, drawing letters in a language near-dead to the valley below. His opponent hissed, recoiling, but not before she swept her arm towards his face. Feathers faded and claws returned, and he was too close to dodge.

Crack!

He spun head over heels, and this time, he could not catch himself on the way down. Managing a twist that kept his neck and arms safe, Satres could not avoid the sickening thud of his side cracking against one of the smoother boulders. What air he had was punched out of him by the earth itself, and he wheezed as he struggled to get back to his feet.

Thankfully, the demon was cursing him out as she landed further back, and he could feel her fighting the chi that he had left behind. The half-written command, the partially-completed binding. He had known it wouldn't work, but at least it slowed her down and, more importantly, it nailed her to the earth.

Lifting his head, he looked back to the temple. Blue flashes and golden bursts were all that one could see of the masters. Flashes of sickly yellow poison burned on the rooftops of the monastery, tile and rock catching fire with demonic corruption. Other members of the Order of the Talon rushed about, dealing with the minor demons, leaving trails of blood in the air that the Order of the Quill snatched, drawing sigils of commands and protection against other members of the horde.

Yet, the demon king showed no sign of slowing down. Despite gashes across his face, despite the deep wounds that Masters Kazir, Sarin, and Wulin had left across his furred body, the wolf-like demon continued his advance. He seemed untouched by the damage to his body, his focus fixed on the temple itself.

Satres grimaced. Was there no way to stop this thing?

"I told you...keep your eyes...on me!"

The demon was too cocky; Satres rolled to the side at the last second, swinging his leg up to block her falling kick. Talons met talons, and the birds brought their other legs together, swinging around and flinging each other about.

Unfortunately, she was the stronger of them. Satres barely managed to block her before she was pulling him up, swinging her legs up and over like an acrobat and bringing him with them. The raven shouted as he was flung back into the stones, colliding with a tree and slumping down the trunk.

A sickening crack told him that his shoulder had been dislocated, perhaps broken. He didn't dare test it, not when he heard the demon coming behind him.

Ducking at the last second, he watched her red-sheathed leg go right through the thick trunk, and he jabbed up with his free hand, _chi-_infused feathers jabbing into her side.

"AH!"

He lunged after her as she went over the tree, bringing his leg down in a pinning kick against her side. She spun, he jumped. She rolled, he leaped after her. All the while, he drew the letters across her side, the golden marks forming against the red and black feathers that were all she wore.

Finally, he finished. She squawked, falling on her back as he drew back, the letters and sigils of binding etched through her feathery hide. He panted for breath, taking a step back, clicking his beak irritably at the pain of the burning rain that continued to fall.

"That...will hold you...for a time," he said as he struggled to catch his breath, shaking his head. "You won't threaten anyone else..."

As the demon writhed on the ground, he looked up at the fight again. The imps were forcing their way up to the walls, and despite the power of the Order of the Quill, some of them were climbing over the stone walls, touching their claws to the tiled roofs. Those that did burst into flames, seared by the spirits of fire that had been burned into every tile, but that would not last forever.

The Order of the Talon were flicking from place to place, their chi- enhanced leaps taking them from place to place with ease, but they were only dozens against an army of hundreds.

Satres looked from the red-robed warrior monks to the demon king again, watching as the great red wolf stepped forward. He brought his paw down on a dying tree, snapping it in two with a single step. The masters still flicked about his head, about his body, cutting and slicing with talons and weapons, with lines of gold showing along his body.

Yet, for all that, it seemed to do nothing. The demon king -

Suddenly, the great wolf grabbed one of the flickers of blue and gold, and Master Sarin was snared. The warrior crane strained, but the demon king squeezed.

The scream of pain echoed down the mountain, piercing and high in a way that no mortal made without the infliction of great agony. Satres flinched, but refused to look away.

"He...he will...die...They'll all die..."

The songbird. She was still able to speak. The yellow-robed raven looked down at her, fighting the urge to silence her forever. One simple kick, one stomp of his talons across her throat, and she would be as dead as the countless imps and the defenders of the temple.

Yet, he did not. He shook his head.

"There is a chance. They can hold..."

"For...how long?" she asked, chuckling between her groans of pain.

He shook his head. Master Wulin was already there, the owl scrawling along the demon king's wrist. For a moment, it looked as though it was doing nothing, but then his hand opened, and the crane fell.

And fell.

Master Sarin saved himself at the last moment, kicking the air and bouncing off it, his legs glowing as he returned to the walls of the temple. He alighted on the tile, but when it came to jumping back, he was slower.

Satres realized that he was wrong. He hadn't seen the crane's legs glowing. He'd seen one leg glowing. The other hung uselessly beneath the master of the Order of the Talon. It had been broken by the demon king.

He started to take a step, only to halt as the songbird grabbed him by the ankle. Clicking his beak and flaring his tail feathers in anger, he looked down at her...only to see her shaking her head.

"Don't bother." She took a deep breath, slowly letting go of him. "You'll die. Feed another...another demon..."

"Why does it matter to you?"

"You have...other tasks..." she panted softly. "Besides...why let you feed...feed him...when you could have...fed me?"

He didn't understand, nor did he particularly want to. Yet, she was right in a sense. There was nothing that his one pair of hands, his one pair of legs could add to the defense of the temple. By now, to return would be to force a fight between himself and every imp, every demon, every monster between him and the temple walls. The whole of the grounds were surrounded, and demonic magics burned wherever the eye fell.

And the demon king was finally taking direct action. Satres watched as the great monster turned its head towards one of the monks climbing the tiered back of the temple, and the demon's yellow eyes glowed.

A sudden shriek split the air, and a bird-shaped silhouette fell from the rooftop. It screamed all the way down, only falling silent a split second before it reached the earth. On impact, it exploded, pieces of yellow and red falling in meaty chunks wherever they might.

The yellow spread, a miasma of poison that filled the temple grounds. What few plants remained from the burning rain were consumed instantly, turning to ash on contact with the fumes. Those monks unlucky enough to be caught, whether of the Talon or Quill, were likewise consumed, their bodies rotting as soon as they were touched by it.

A gap opened in the defense on the wall and the imps rushed through it. Though dozens of their numbers were consumed as they passed over the tiles still bound to defense, the passage allowed a number through, then a number more. Dozens soon were pouring through, with the first ogre reaching the walls and following suit.

Satres watched, aware that he was in shock, aware that he was in denial as he watched his home be violated. He swayed from side to side, almost falling over more than once.

The demon laughed beside him.

"Run, little bird...run, fly, flee as far as you wish...You cannot stop this now..." She groaned, closing her eyes. "This is the first...but it will not...be the last..."

The demon king took one more step. Lightning fell upon the walls, setting blazes of yellow fire where he glanced, and he brought his hand forth. The fires of hell and the crackling blaze of the red lightning that they carried surged forward, forming a vortex of infernal power that threatened to consume everything.

And then, Master Kazir was there.

The peacock appeared in a blaze of gold, fanning his tail feathers out. His chi flickered from every blue eye in his tail feathers, his arms glowing with the light of the stars. The crest of feathers upon his head flared like tiny suns, and he cast his might against the demon king.

And for the first time, the demon king spoke. In a voice that rumbled through the earth and under it, with the shaking power of an earthquake, the great wolf chuckled.

" You act as if you were phoenixes, as if you have more than one life to give. One life, ten, a hundred; it will never be enough to stop me. Sacrifice yourself if you wish; the world will yet fall. The mortals you protect will feed our hunger. This world you cherish has always been our slaughterhouse; soon, it will be our table, and you, our sustenance."

Whatever Master Kazir said in response, the demon king only seemed to laugh at. Yet, the peacock was holding the demon king at bay, his chi flashing against the demon's fire and lightning. Even the yellow miasma merely floated around the peacock's power.

And then, Master Sazin and Master Wulin appeared.

They flickered into being on either side of the demon king's arm. The crane held his leg aloft over his head, and his claws burned and smoked as he began to fall. The owl had lost her feathers, but had gained something else, a staff topped with a blade that shifted and writhed as she clenched her fingers around it.

They fell together, aiming right for the demon king's wrist.

The great red wolf saw them, and tried to pull back, but Master Kazir clenched his power over the demon king's hand. Satres realized that this was not merely a defense, but a counter-attack.

They held, kicked, and cut at the same time, and the demon king howled.

It was like a shockwave that rippled through the earth and the air, an explosion that came in ripples, and then in great waves. One by one, they burst over the ground and through the air, through him, and each one left him sickened, breathless, as if he had been punched not merely in his stomach, but in his organs themselves. One blow, another, another, and he collapsed as the howl continued, his lungs empty, air itself stripped from him.

Another few seconds, and he was vomiting, emptying himself of everything that he had left. He fell on his bad arm, and felt it shift. Not broken, then, but still in pain.

The howl went on, even as his stomach had emptied itself. He strained to rise, but it was impossible. Even the pain of the demon king had power, rippling through the land and delivering vengeance for it to all those that had ears to hear it.

He fell on his front, unable to rise from the boulders. Yet, for all the pain he suffered, he managed the slight smile that any bird could make. The demon king was not invincible.

Yet, neither was he defeated. Even as the great wolf held his stump of an arm, he lashed out. A single punch cracked the great Master Sazin across the center of his body, shattering the crane's other leg and darkening his blue robes with red. The crane flew across the grounds, falling into one of the yellow clouds, and nothing more was seen of him.

Master Wulin threw herself into the air, spinning her morphing blade and staff, but she was caught in the demon king's stare. Lightning caught her first, and then his jaws caught her second.

In a mere moment, the masters of the Order of the Talon and the Order of the Quill were no more.

The demon king turned his attention on the remaining peacock, Master Kazir. The peacock had pulled back, retreating to the top of the temple, standing beside the ironwork that surrounded the great brazier of the temple. Grunting, the giant wolf held his stump of an arm up, black blood falling like rain. Everywhere it touched, there was a ghostly wail as the blood of the demon king caught and warped the spirits of the temple, twisting them, torturing them by its mere presence.

Even then, with his obvious pain, the demon king spoke clear and deep.

" I will see your ilk pay for this. Your people, your students, your lands. Everything will be broken upon my will. This act of defiance has doomed generations."

Satres shook his head, hardly believing what he was seeing. The shock was fading, the pain following. The two teachers that had trained him in the skills of the Orders, dozens of old comrades, everyone that he had known...gone. Only the master of the temple itself remained, leaning tiredly against the blaze at the top of the temple that still cast its light on the lands around.

The raven struggled, trying to get to his feet. His arm went out from under him, dropping him flat on his face again. The songbird shook her head.

"It's pointless. He will win. You..." She took a deep breath. "You should...run."

"Why?"

"He is...hungry. The king...he will not...wait..."

She groaned, shaking her head.

"What is this...this chi?"

Satres looked up at his master again, and his eyes widened. The peacock had stepped over the ironwork, his talons plunging into the fires. The orange blaze turned white, and the white light spread up his legs, over his feathers, consuming each one as it was touched. The fires licked across his body, turning him from something mortal into something else.

"What is he...what is he doing?" the songbird hissed at him. "What...tell me...what is..."

"He's becoming fire," Satres said, a tear running down his cheek.

"Impossible. There are...no more..."

"There was one master of the Ancestral Flame left..." Satres shook his head. "I never believed..."

"No...no, he'll...kill us all..."

"Would it be so bad..."

He managed to sit up, looking at the inferno that his master had become. Kazir's tail feathers fanned out, creating a majestic fan of white fire, one that spanned the width of the temple. White light arced like curved lightning from one spiritual feather to another, and any imp that came near was swatted down like an insect before an annoyed farmer.

The raven had read of this. It was the power of a true master, one that knew there was nothing left. A healthy man could survive this technique, but it would leave them forever changed, the mortality burnt out of them with nothing but the mix of chi and the fire it had infused remaining.

An injured, weakened, tired man, on the other hand...

"Goodbye, Master Kazir."

The raven looked down at the songbird demon as she continued to struggle. The binding words he had left on her continued to glow, holding her in place, leaving her in pain. He looked at the demon king, and then at her.

Evil was evil, but in this, there was something else. A demon was a spirit, merely one that could not control its urges.

Satres channeled a hint of chi through a feather at his wrist, pulling the golden quill free. He turned it, modifying what he wrote on the songbird.

"What are - nnng - what are you doing now?"

"I am giving you a chance...a chance to be better." He twisted the quill, drawing a curl under the sigils. "To do no harm to a mortal, spiritual, or otherwise."

She was able to sit up, then stand. The songbird looked at him in shock, then rage, then anguish. A tear ran down the side of her face, and she screamed, falling back to her knees.

"I can't...I can't..."

"Run," Satres told her, looking back at the temple. The white fire had spread so far that it looked like a setting sun, like a great fire to consume the sky. "Isn't that what you told me, before? Run..."

The raven lowered his head to the earth, closing his eyes. The feeling of his master's chi suddenly burst through the heavens, and he knew death was coming. The consuming fires would burn across the mountainside, and with any luck, the demon king and his hordes would be defeated.

He would follow them, and perhaps there would be a place in the next world for one had not joined the battle.

Darkness came, and he went with it happily.

Pressure on his legs woke him, and he knew that he was not dead. For a moment, shameful relief filled him, followed by anger at feeling such a thing when his master had sacrificed himself.

The pressure was followed by something further up, nearer to his waist. Something pulling, something tugging. Something -

Satres opened his eyes, sitting up with all the speed he could muster. His right arm followed -

"NNGH!"

And pain stopped it in its tracks. He gripped his dislocated shoulder, clicking his beak shut and holding it there for a moment. The severe pain should not have been forgotten, but it certainly reminded him of it now.

The pressure on his legs was gone, but the source was not. The songbird was there, still red and black, still with tear marks along the sides of her face. He shook his head at her, looking around.

"...I know this place," he muttered to himself.

"He knew you when we passed by," the songbird muttered, her arms wrapped around her middle. "He called out, invited us in."

"..."

Satres slowly stood up, shaking his head as he gripped his upper arm. He shifted it around slightly, getting the bones aligned properly. When it felt about right, he held his shoulder pinned in place, lifted his arm until his elbow was pointed straight at the wall...and then rammed it in.

Click.

His talons curled into the earth and his beak tightened so hard that he felt that it might snap from the tightness. Breathing was hard for a few seconds after everything was back in place, but eventually, it settled enough for him to focus.

"Toad of the White Rock. Are you there?"

A white, webbed hand dropped from the ceiling, followed by the domed head of the old frog. Their eyes met, and in that moment, there was sorrow. In the Toad's eyes, he saw the sorrow of a being that had had its world turned upside-down, who had lost its safety in the loss of the Order of the Quill, who had lost people that it had known, argued with, and even been friends with for decades. He saw the grief that came from one that had lost, in essence, a family.

And it brought all of his own grief back. Satres closed his eyes, covering his face with his featherless hand, and he felt it all coming up.

"They're gone," the Toad said, stripping what little hope he had left from him. "When that one told me, I - I couldn't believe it. I had to see...I went up the mountain to see. They're gone. All of them. Gone."

"Please...please, no..."

"I just...how..."

"It was..." He had to stop. He couldn't speak. He couldn't. It hurt too much, and the grief-shakes were too much to bear. The raven leaned back against the earthen wall, sliding down it, and he cried.

The Toad of the White Rock hopped over to him, and mortal and monster shared their grief with one another, while the songbird demon watched on.

What felt like hours later, Satres was able to share the story, how the attack had been worse than any of them had imagined. The Toad of the White Rock listened, shaking his rounded head again and again every time that the raven mentioned another setback in the battle.

By the time that he was done, his throat ached and his voice was almost gone. He barely had the strength to say what had happened with Kazir.

"He sacrificed himself to destroy the demon king. After that, I don't know what happened."

"I can tell you what happened," the songbird said. "Your binding forced me to carry you away. It made me save your damned life."

That had not been the idea of changing her bindings. He tried to say so, but his throat locked up, his voice gone. The fight, the burning rain, the crying, the story; it had all caught up to him.

In truth, he had felt that there was no need for them both to die. She had been defeated, and the farmers were safe. It felt like one last thing that he could do before he died, to show mercy to someone that didn't deserve it. He could have gone on without guilt, then, to know that he had given someone the chance to be better.

Instead, he had robbed himself of the chance to die with everyone else. He was still alive...and that meant that there was only one course of action.

He looked at the Toad, who opened his mouth. The three scrolls were hidden in the coils of his tongue, kept dry by the will of the monster. Satres took them, holding them close. For a moment, their presence felt like the ghosts of the Orders were still with him.

Then it faded. He took a deep breath, then looked at himself. His novice robe had faded badly in the rain, and more than a few holes had opened in it. Many feathers bore the white scars of the burning rain, leaving him with a black and white mottled effect that would last until the next time he was able to molt.

It made him look like a ghost himself, he realized, ashen and aged.

"There's nothing left but the bones of the temple, Satres," the Toad said. "Do you think there's any point in going back?"

The voiceless raven shrugged. There was little point in going anywhere, but he had to see the temple, at the very least. The Temple of Talon and Quill had been his home for too long for him to leave it now. He had to at least say goodbye, even if the temple itself could not be repaired or restored.

The songbird shook her head.

"Then I will follow."

"Mmph."

"Either you let me come with you, or you trust that the bindings you put on me are good enough to keep me from hurting everyone else on the lower slopes. Which is it going to be, novice?"

"..."

The raven nodded.

"Good. Maybe eventually I can convince you to take them - nnnnngh!"

She grimaced, shaking her head. He imagined it was part of the bindings, a scalding pain that came when she wanted to bring harm to mortals. He would have to examine the marks later, when...

When she was less angry, he imagined, and when he was less exhausted. He was about to collapse, and he knew it. With a nod of thanks to the Toad, he walked to the side of the room and laid down. The earth was hard, but at this point, he could sleep anywhere.

What surprised him was the pressure of the demon behind him, the songbird clicking her beak against his neck. He looked over his shoulder, and she glared back.

"I am not allowed to harm you...but there are other ways to feed without that. And you will make sure I can feed, unless you want to be a murderer, novice."

"..."

"Tomorrow we will talk. Tomorrow, I set my terms. Goodnight."

The End