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The Black-Feathered Monk

Chapter 12

By Draconicon

Despite his disinclination to waste time, Satres admitted that the forced rest had its benefits. By the time that the raven was able to rise up without the songbird demon shoving him back down, he felt most of his old self again. Not entirely, but sufficiently enough, he believed, to handle the demons that they were pursuing.

As he stirred the embers of the campfire that Silra had set up, the songbird woke from her own sleep. She glanced at him, shaking her head as she dragged herself from her makeshift bed to the opposite side of the flames.

"I suppose you aren't going to rest any longer," she said.

"I don't have any reason to."

"You do, but you're not going to listen to me."

"Not in this case."

She sighed. He continued to poke the fire until it was good and hot, the embers from below consuming the old pieces of wood that had yet to fall from the top. The mists of morning peeled from the slopes around them, displaced by the warmth, and the chill that the upper slopes never shed did pull away from them for the moment.

Even the soft burning taste of smoke in the air merely felt bracing. The stink of the corrupted water behind them provided a reminder of what the alternative was, and he chose to stay close to the fire rather than risk that. He held his hands before the flames, warming them and getting rid of the last of the night's chill.

"Did you find them?" he asked.

"...Yes."

"How far?"

"Another hour further up the slopes."

"Then it won't take us long to get there."

"I can't believe that you're doing this. This is insane. You can't fix demons. There's nothing to fix."

"I am not fixing. I am...giving them a choice."

"You say that, but is this a choice?"

Satres didn't have to look up to know that she was pointing at her side. He didn't answer, choosing to stare at the campfire instead. The raven shook his head.

If I knew I could trust you...

He almost did. As a matter of fact, he was almost sure that Silra could be trusted without the commands binding her to obedience. She had done so much for him, and had gone past what the commands required, that he believed that she was a willing ally at this point. She could easily be released...

Were it not for the fact that he knew that she could obliterate him in that moment, if her anger was too strong. All it would take was one note, one little coo, and her power of pain would paralyze him, leaving him at her mercy. He doubted that she had any left.

Until he knew, he couldn't take the binding from her. Not when so much still had to be done.

Silra sighed, getting to her feet. She fluffed out her arms, turning them from wings to hands again, and looked up the slope.

"We better get going, then."

"Yes. I suppose we should."

Despite feeling better, he could still feel the aches and pains that lingered up and down his body. Most of them had been banished by a proper night's rest, one where exhaustion had pushed him so far down that he couldn't even dream. However, he could still feel the twinge in his arm, and the soft click just under his shoulder. The waiting-to-rip burn just behind his knee was still there, and so was the rolling clicking sensation in one ankle. All of those feelings came from old injuries that had flared to life with Silra's song, and they didn't seem content to slip back to memory just yet.

Nonetheless, they had a task. He rolled his arms in circles for a moment, stretching out what stiffness he could, and gestured for her to lead the way. He followed behind, curious what they would reach on the upper slopes.

The mist returned as they reached the heights, and it brought with it both cold and wet. Satres's robes clung to his arms and back, and he gritted his teeth as his talons felt half-numb as they sank into slick gravel. The higher they went, the worse it became, and there was something beneath the misery, as well.

"Has it always been this bad?" Satres muttered as they passed between two standing rocks.

"What?" Silra asked, dragging herself past another.

"The corruption. It's...everywhere."

"We're on the upper slopes. Demons have owned this part of the mountain for years. Are you that surprised?"

"Logically, no. Still..."

The feeling in the air gave him the perpetual feeling of the missed stair, or a forgotten word. Something that felt wrong, something that was ever so slightly sickening and made him feel off-balance. His chi was sufficient to keep it from slipping inside him and changing him, but the ambient energy was always there, always tingling at the back of his mind. He couldn't shake himself free of the way it made him feel and he knew that was going to make the upcoming fight that much harder.

Following Silra past stones that faded from gray to black, he was ready to climb yet another steep chunk of rock before she waved him to a halt. He stopped, one hand on a handhold, the other stretched out over the next plateau. She held her hand in front of his beak for a few seconds, his grip slackening slightly, before nodding. He climbed up beside her, hiding behind the rock she'd taken for cover.

Glancing over the top, he saw what gave pause. The demon encampment was a mere thirty feet away. Two green fires burned on either end of it, with imps guarding them. Flat-faced, bat-winged creatures that were less than half his height, imps were still dangerous enough to be concerned about, particularly with the smoke and heat that burned and rippled the air around them. They were creatures of fire, and while they lacked the greater range of the more individualized demons, like Silra, they still carried the destructive power of their mountainous, hellish home.

In addition to the handful of imps moving about the camp, there was an eagle-shaped demon sitting in the center. His arms were folded over his legs, and he sat almost in imitation of a meditative form. Brown feathers faded into white at the back of his neck, only for the white to turn to red, then to pink, then to white again. Each flare of color came with a burst of heat from the green flames.

Hmmm...

He ducked under the rock again. Silra nodded down the slope slightly, and he agreed. They retreated a few dozen feet, keeping their voices down as they whispered.

"Still think that you can fight them?" she asked.

"I think it is possible."

"The imps, I grant you. But him?"

"He is...different."

"Yes. The green fires are barriers. They're hiding from someone up here."

"Then the solution is to put the fires out."

"Great. How do you plan to do that?"

"I'm assuming they're no less vulnerable to water than normal fires."

"That's if the imps let you get close enough to do anything to them."

"If they're hiding, they won't be able to fight as well as they could in the open. It might be enough."

"So long as whatever they're hiding from doesn't want to take us down, too."

"That will be the risk we take."

"Why do you keep dragging me into this?"

"Do you want to leave?"

"..."

"I feel that's your answer."

He climbed back to their previous point of cover, kneeling behind it. With one waterskin, he doubted that it would be enough to put one of the fires out completely, but it would be enough to allow him to kick it apart the rest of the way. The imps, however, were going to be a problem. He poked his head over the stone one more, glancing between the patrolling flappers.

How to get around you...

There were six, total. Two guarded each flame, and two others patrolled the camp's sides. They were constantly on watch, leaving very little in the way of gaps for someone to exploit. He wouldn't be able to sneak close without one of them seeing him, particularly not in his condition. That meant that sneaking was out of the question. That said, a direct conflict would end up getting him burned to a crisp, particularly with six imps attacking at once.

But he could thin those odds, he believed. He leaned down, picking up one of the many smaller rocks scattered at his feet. He glanced up at the imps again, then focused his chi through one of his feathers. He plucked it, and wrote on the rock, leaving it glowing on the pointier end.

Let's see if this works...

With all the expertise that came from being trained under a temple of monks for most of his life, Satres whipped his arm back and then forward. A lesser man would have cracked his elbow with such a rapid motion, but for him, it was only a strain. The rock whizzed away, striking the imp just turning to face him directly in the forehead.

The blow would have stunned a person. It would have, possibly, knocked an imp out. But with the written chi on the stone -

Yes. The imp's eyes rolled back, his wings stopped flapping, and he collapsed. The sleep-word on the stone had been sufficient unto the task.

Fortunately, the imp also fell forward. It slept through the pain of the green fire nibbling at its chest and belly, and the fire, smothered so completely, went out. As it did, the mist began to clear, and a deep growl filled the air.

Unfortunately, the imp's partner whipped around and spotted the raven.

"Nnnngh! Mortal!"

"...Well, this is unfortunate."

"Raagh!"

As elemental as its birthplace, the imp threw its fist forward. A glob of molten mass shot from its fist, dribbling on the rocks as it flew straight for the raven. Satres rolled to his left, barely avoiding it, the heat sending steam through the air behind him. The imp was already pulling back another blob, and the rest of the camp knew he was there, now.

As the raven got back to his feet, the eagle demon did the same. The eagle let out a single caw of command, and the fires went quiet. The imps seethed around him, though, and the air burned with smoke and impossible heat. The demon walked to the edge of his campsite, standing in the light of the other green fire.

"Who are you, mortal?" the eagle asked.

"Someone that wants to offer you a deal."

"I doubt that you will offer us a better one, unless you are a great deal more starved than you actually are."

"...Starved?"

"We feed on hunger, mortal. You - ahhh. You've encountered those that fed on pain...fought them, even," the eagle said, nodding. "I understand. You look for someone strong enough to save you for when they come again."

"...That isn't the deal that I wanted to offer."

Come again. That was a thought that he had been trying to keep out of his mind, and the demon had put it right back in. Not what he needed to think about at that moment in time.

"I came here to offer you the chance to learn control."

"Hmmph. Prince Chiang-Shol's words have taken root among your kind, then?"

"I have only seen the process and a few results...but it seems to work."

"Forced results. I have nothing to say to someone that wants to force that madman's ways on us. But I am quite interested in a meal...it will not take long for someone to be hungry enough to sate us."

Satres had hoped that he'd find someone reasonable, but he was dealing with demons. He should have known better. Shaking his head, he slowly pulled himself into a more defensive stance, one hand pulled down to his waist, the other extended with palm out.

"I do not wish to fight. I believe that -"

"You believe that we can be better than demons. That we can be better than our urges. Chiang-Shol's words have spread through Hell time and time again, through all of the kingdoms of demon-kind. There is nothing that you can say that we have not heard time and again. To be controlled is to lose yourself. To be controlled is to be anything but yourself. Do you have anything else to say, raven, or shall we get on with this?"

"Just one thing. A question."

"And that is?"

"What were you hiding from?"

The deep growl returned, and with it came a sweeping darkness. Not of night, nor of smoke, but the darkness that came from the clouds of deep winter casting night upon the mountains. Only a small dome of green light remained, barely enough for half the imps and the eagle himself.

As the darkness descended, so too did the growling, coming from the sky and alighting on the ground around them. The earth shook, and the loose stones rattled upon the slopes. The demons pulled back, the imps all but hiding within the green flames, while the eagle demon was doing his best to shake them free so he had room to move.

And then, Silra called out.

"Cover your ears."

Satres knew better than to question her. He barely had time to press his hands to his head before her song cut through the air. It echoed through the rocks, high and keening, and the imps and their master collapsed. They fell, clutching at themselves, rolling from the dome of light.

It was just what the darkness was waiting for.

Suddenly, the darkness pulled together, collapsing into a great hound bigger than any living being. It stood head and shoulders taller than the raven, with a great mane that swept back over its back and down its chest. Fangs burst past its lips, and the bark that escaped its mouth was as loud as thunder.

" There you are..." it growled, slowly padding forward until it loomed over the cringing demons. One great paw extinguished the other fire, its fur flaring out like reeds in a river, flowing and ghostly. " I knew someone had come to my territory...but not something so rotten as you..."

"Don't kill them," Satres said.

The hound turned. Black and red fur that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it bounced as the hound padded toward him, looking down with a hunter's fierce stare. Satres kept his arms at his side.

"I am trying to give them a chance to be better. There is a way."

" Is there, now? And what are you, little one?" the hound asked, sniffing the air over his head. " You do not smell like you belong in this part of the mountain."

"I do not. I am from the Temple of Talon and Quill."

" Ah. The ally of a friend of mine. The Toad of the White Rock speaks kindly of your people. But why do you believe that they can be better?"

"Because -"

"Don't even think about using me as an example!"

The hound and the raven turned as the songbird climbed over the rocks further back. Her face was dominated with an expression of annoyance, and she shook her head as she approached.

"Whatever he tells you, I've done everything that I've done out of pure slavery."

" ...The temples practice slavery now, do they?" the hound asked, its voice almost amused.

"No, they don't," Satres was quick to say. "But she has been bound...that is another story. I have seen a prison that was set up by a banished demon, and I've seen what happened to the demons within."

" A demon bound, or a demon imprisoned; neither can be trusted to be the same once they are released."

It seemed that nobody trusted a demon's ability to change. Satres didn't blame them, but at the same time, he had hoped that one of the monsters of the mountain would think differently. He shook his head, gesturing at the prostrate demons before them, each one still bound with the pain of Silra's song.

"I can take them to the prison. I can give them the option; try and be better, or go inside until they are."

" They will not listen," the hound warned.

"I have to try."

" ...On your head be it, raven. As you have exposed them to me, I will grant you a favor and guide you from my territory to yours. But know that you are tempting fate with your plan."

"Fate needs no temptation; it does what it will regardless. All we can do is choose to fight it, or to succumb to it."

" ...A bold way of seeing it. What is your name, raven?"

"Satres, sir."

" Know me. I am the Hound of the High Passes. And I will watch you."

There was something both intimidating and complimentary in that phrase, and Satres made sure to remember that feeling. He doubted that there were many that could stand before the Hound and say that they had received anything like that. As he knelt by the demons, tying them and restraining them with ropes, cloth, and anything else that he could find and write words of binding on, he hoped that at least one demon would take the deal when they returned to the temple. He wanted, just once, to have some validation for what he believed.

The End

Summary: Satres and Silra find a group of demons, but something is off. The demons are hiding, too.

Tags: No sex, Raven, Songbird, Eagle, Imp, Demon, Series, Mystical, Attempted Diplomacy, Monster,