With no reason to hang around the magic-eater’s lair, we returned to the central chamber. Deprived of our only light source, we were forced to feel our way through the darkness. Fortunately, the workshop beyond was lit. We were standing around within, talking about what to do next, when we heard someone clear their throat. I jumped, hand going to my sword while Elmidath didn’t move a muscle. An elderly man stood before us, bald with wrinkled purple skin and a single white horn. He frowned at us. “What are you doing in here?”

The young Demon Lord stepped forward. “I am Elmidath, daughter of Orshen Sarinknell. I take it you knew him?”

His frown faded while his brow shot up. “You’re little Elmidath? You’ve grown so much I hardly recognise you.”

Elmidath took a step back. “I’m not sure what you mean, we’ve never met before.”

“We’ve met a couple of times but you must have been too young to remember.” He sounded a little sad that Elmidath had forgotten him. “My condolences for your father’s disappearance. I was shocked when I heard the news.”

Elmidath’s lip curled in distaste. “Disappearance? My father is dead.”

“Ah, of course. My mistake.” Despite his words, I didn’t get the impression he truly thought he was wrong, but that hardly seemed important right now. “Now, what are you doing down here? This is not a safe place to wander.”

It would have been nice if someone had told us that earlier, perhaps with a sign. Well, there was no point being coy about our objective here. None of the demons I’d met had been shy about things like this. “We’re trying to find a way to kill her uncle, who’s taken over her father’s former position.”

The old demon turned to me. “And who might you be?”

“Cathal Moore, bound servant of Lady Sariknell. She summoned me here a few days ago from another world.” It still sounded ridiculous to me, but no one seemed to bat an eye about me being from another world.

“I see.” He extended his hand toward me and we shook. “Tagath Molgrin, servant of the late Lord Sarinknell.”

Elmidath sniffed. “And what is it you did for my father?”

“Oh, a great of things.” Tagath rotated his wrist in a circular motion. “Building various contraptions, for the most part. Much as I’d love to speak more of my work, you still haven’t answered my initial question. Pardon the rudeness and the repetition, but why are you here?”

Elmidath explained the situation with her uncle and her plan to topple him. Looking away from her, he sighed and shook his head. “This is what you devote your energy to? Couldn’t you be doing something more productive with your time? Not to mention less likely to get you killed. You’re both young, I suggest you abandon this foolish endeavour and do something more sensible. Why, as a matter of fact, you could work for me. I could do with some help.”

Elmidath’s voice filled the room. “’Foolish endeavor?’ Is that what you call trying to retake what is rightfully mine? My father carved this territory out of nothing, out of feuding warlords with no goals beyond bloodshed. And I’m supposed to just abandon his legacy? Are you senile?”

“Senile?” Tagath’s lips twitched upward into a hint of a smile. “Quite possibly, but even a senile old man can see you’re throwing your lives away.” The humour drained from both his face and voice. “You’re lucky enough to be alive as it is by the sounds of it, now you want to waste your good fortune? Why are you so set on taking over from your uncle? Are you truly so arrogant so to think you’d make a better ruler than a higher ranking Demon Lord with far more experience?”

Elmidath’s mouth opened and closed as her hands curled into fists. I don’t think I’d ever seen her so angry, she looked ready to tear him apart with her bare hands. When she finally spoke, her voice was surprisingly restrained but with an undercurrent of terrible rage. “Do you know nothing of my father or his plans? I’m his successor, not that cold-blooded bastard of a brother. My father’s holdings suffer under his rule, he’s already lost most of his forces in just a few days.” Elmidath’s reasoning was amusing to me, given that we were a large part of the reason for that.

The old man shrugged. “You can sit here and insist that you’re his rightful successor all day, but it won’t change a thing. Do you really expect his retainers to trust you, a girl who’s barely stepped outside her house over a seasoned leader?”

Elmidath paused and I could see she was wavering. Was her conviction really so weak before Tagath’s relentless reason? Had we risked our lives for a cause she couldn’t even argue convincingly for?

There had to be something, some quality that recommended her over her uncle. Elmidath had argued before that he’d lead his followers to ruin but that didn’t mean she’d have done any better in his shoes. Perhaps, strangely, her advantage lay in her youth, her lack of experience. “She may be young and she definitely has less practice at being a leader, but she’s brave and I truly believe she wants the best for her people.” I didn’t believe that for a second, but hey, she seemed nicer than her uncle. If only marginally. “In a way her inexperience is an advantage, it means she can learn from the mistakes of those who’ve come before her rather than being set in her ways.”

Tagath scoffed. “That’s all well and good, but you can hardly expect someone to choose a leader based on potential. They need someone to make the proper choices now, not in a few years’ time.”

“True but I don’t think she’d make a bad leader in the meantime.”

“Even if they were equal in terms of leadership, which I highly doubt, her uncle is far more personally powerful at this stage. If he can’t keep his realm secure then she has no chance whatsoever.”

I was running out of ideas, so I tried appealing to his sentimentality. “Does your loyalty to her father not count for something? Do you not wish to honour his wishes?”

“No.” A blunt rejection. “Not if it means acting against good sense. I can’t claim to have much interest in what goes on above but this is the wrong choice, beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

I turned to Elmidath. “Don’t you have anything else to say?”

Her voice was low, almost inaudible. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ve been a fool all along.” It was a logical conclusion but there was no way I could accept it. Not after she’d torn me from my peaceful life into this hellhole of a world. No, we were going to do this, logic be damned. Logic didn’t belong in this mad place, anyway.

But how was I supposed to convince this hermit, who spent his time tinkering in the dark, to accept such a rash course of action? He didn’t seem like someone who would bend to threats, he had too much backbone for that. And it wasn’t like appealing to his emotions would work either, he struck me as too pragmatic. I’d have to convince him Elmidath really was the better choice. “You overestimate the current Lord Sarinknell’s ability as a leader. He hasn’t been in power long and already more than a third of his soldiers have betrayed him or died. Even if his ideas are sound, he’s simply not the sort of person that people will follow.”

Ah, results-orientated judgement, the perfect tool for attacking someone after something goes wrong, even if it wasn’t their fault. “Now his enemies are gathering, there’s no way he’ll last more than a few weeks. Elmidath is far from perfect, but she’s the best chance we have of salvaging things.” I put as much conviction as I could into my words.

Maybe if I tried hard enough, I’d convince myself too. Elmidath straightened and raised her head. It seemed she believed at least some of what I was saying, the poor fool.

Tagath sighed. “I doubt you’re telling me the whole truth, but I think your argument has some merit. The current lord certainly sounds like he’s made a mess of things up there. Maybe carrying on the bloodshed is our only choice at this point.” He fiddled with a tool on one of the benches as he addressed Elmidath. “Fine, your companion has convinced me. I’m probably a fool myself for doing so, but I’ll help you depose your uncle.” He raised a finger before either of us could reply. “But. I will only do so on the condition that I can serve as your advisor.”

I blinked. Him as an advisor? I thought he just wanted to stay here and ignore the rest of the world. Elmidath looked as confused as I did, but she agreed. “That’s no problem, I’d be happy to have your advice.”

“Hmph. We’ll see how happy you are after you’ve had to listen to it.”

I wonder if his help was even worth the effort, he didn’t look like much of a fighter. “How do you intend to aid Lady Sarinknell, exactly?”

“I have a couple of gifts for her, which I think will prove quite useful. Things I was making at her father’s request.” He walked over to a bench and drew back the sheet. A long-sleeved shirt of tiny metal scales, with a thick cloth backing, glittered beneath the lamp. It clinked as he picked it up and offered it to Elmidath. “Your father requested this for you.”

She took it and held it up to the light. Tagath insisted she try it on, so she pulled it over her head. It was a loose fit but the armour tightened of its own accord, until it was snug around her. The scales covered everything from the base of her neck to just below her waist. Though less extensive than the armour of most of the soldiers I’d seen, it was also much lighter. “Will this really protect her? It looks pretty flimsy.” The mail I was wearing, made up of rings rather than scales, seemed a lot more substantial.

“It should suffice against most attacks she’s likely to come up against.” He held up a small hammer. “If I might make a demonstration? I assure you that you won’t be harmed.”

Elmidath frowned, none too pleased about the prospect of being struck with a hammer, but she agreed. Drawing back his arm, he swung it at her as hard as he could. It hit her on the chest but she didn’t seem bothered by it. Her eyes widened. “I barely felt a thing.”

Tagath nodded, unsurprised. “Precisely. The interlocking scales provide exceptional protection, far beyond what you’d expect of something that weight, while remaining flexible.” He smiled. “A most ingenious blend of magic and metalwork, if I do say so myself. I suggested that your father choose something more suited for the battlefield, but he wanted armour you could wear in your day-to-day life. Please take care of it, it took a very long time to make. Not to mention costing a small fortune.”

“I’ll try. How well will it do against fire?”

“Err, well…” Tagath cleared his throat and looked away. “You’d probably be better off wearing it than not, but it’s not going to offer much protection against that. I would strongly recommend you avoid being set alight.”

Hand going to the burn on her cheek, Elmidath nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The armour was nice and all but it wasn’t going to help us much against her uncle. “What’s the other gift then?”

“Hm? Oh, right. Follow me.”

He led us out. We went all the way back to where we’d found the pit, not far from the entrance. “It’s been a while since I last checked it but I believe it should be about ready by now.”

After checking that neither of the demons were watching me, I rolled my eyes. I could do without all the melodrama. We didn’t have a great deal of time and I wished he’d fork it over without all the mystery and theatrics.

A large glove rose from the pit. Made of dark leather, it sported several unsightly lumps beneath the surface, like cysts, and a gaping hole in the palm. The hole was ragged, like something had torn free from the leather. It looked more like a severed hand than a glove, the texture and shape was wrong. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be used as a weapon or for protection, it looked more like a bizarre torture device than anything.

“What is this supposed to be?” Apparently Elmidath had a similar impression.

“I’m not quite sure what to call it, I’ll leave that up to you. But the idea was to create something that would compliment your abilities. I’ve heard your sanguis allows you to control your own blood, is that correct?”

Sanguis? I’d never heard the word before, but he must be referring to her powers. Lady Sarinknell confirmed that it was.

“This was intended to allow you a greater degree of control. If you direct your blood through the hole, the gloves magic will take effect and hold it in place for you once you’ve shaped it to your liking.”

I wasn’t sure how much of a difference it would make but Elmidath seemed impressed. She was reaching out for it when Tagath gave her a last-minute warning. “There will be a short period of… adjustment when you put it on the for the first time. I’m afraid you also won’t be able to take it off very easily. The adjustment will be painful but I assure you that you’ll be quite safe throughout the process.”

She was looking a lot less enthusiastic about it by the time he handed it over, but she still put it on. The glove rippled and flexed like a living thing, digging into her hand beneath. I was thinking it wasn’t so bad when she fell to the ground, screaming. Her free hand clawed at the glove, trying to pull it free in her pain-induced frenzy.

I moved to help but Tagath stopped me. “She’ll be fine, just leave her be.” It seemed like he was telling the truth, so with a heavy heart I stood back and let it happen. Even if I wasn’t too fond of Elmidath, watching her suffer didn’t sit right with me.

The screams continued for a little under a minute until the glove finally settled. I offered my hand to Elmidath, and breathing heavily, she got to her feet. The glove, much larger than her other hand, gave her a distinctly lopsided appearance but she seemed okay.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and exhaled. “This had better be worth it.” A thin stream of blood came forth from the glove, taking shape into a triangular pointed section like a spearhead. The flow ceased but the shape remained, looking as solid as if it were forged of iron. Elmidath tapped the side of it against the bench and made a satisfied sound. “I’ll admit you seem to have done what was requested by my father.” Was that her attempt at a compliment? It really wasn’t much of one.

“I’m glad you like it. Now, let’s see about getting rid of that uncle of yours, shall we?”