Calimei’s heart jumped when what had seemed like just shadows became a demon before her eyes.

The creature’s skin was pitch black, with no sheen at all, and its clothes had black and gray patterns which caused her eyes to strain as she focused on them.

A dreila…

Though she had never seen one before, she knew they were there when Lord Raum captured her home. Her soldiers had reported seeing their comrades simply drop dead with wounds in their backs or across their throats. Sir Ulric even claimed to have wounded a few, though mostly by accident.

Which meant that this demon had certainly made himself known on purpose. Had he meant them harm, he could have slipped right into Azazel’s tent and slain him and Calimei both.

“What is your name, demon?” Azazel demanded. His voice was harsh, but Calimei noticed his arms rested at his side. Relaxed. Did he not suspect this could still be a trick of some sort?

“Koshek,” said the demon. Calimei winced at the sound of the name. She’d never heard it before, but there was something so wicked in it. “As you can see, I am unarmed.”

“I’m not convinced,” said Azazel. He gestured to his soldiers. Several of them drew their swords or picked up their spears and drew closer to the dreila, to point their weapons at him. Others readied their bows or muskets and took aim.

From the crowd, Adon the Silent Swordsman approached. His long, platinum blond hair fell down upon his fox fur cloak in waves. War paint covered his face in four black stripes upon a white background, and a two-handed sword sat strapped to his back.

When he drew near the dreila, for just a moment, he let his eyes linger upon the dreila’s fiery red irises. The scowl on the Silent Swordsman’s face told a story of utter hatred in Adon’s heart for demons. Moreover, it told all who beheld it that he feared not this demon, for if he saw the slightest excuse he would cut him down with a flick of his wrists. Koshek had been breathing through his mouth, but upon receiving the Silent Swordsman’s intense stare, he closed his mouth and pulled his head back, as if he were a young recruit standing at attention. His eyes had diverted from Adon, and his friendly smile had turned solemn.

The Silent Swordsman reached out his hands and patted down the dreila’s shoulders, forearms, wrists, armpits, and so on, down to forcing him out of his shoes and searching there as well. All the while, the dreila gave no sign of resistance or malice. Calimei wished for a moment she were a telepath, that she might enter the demon’s mind to be sure of his intentions. Adon turned to her and Azazel, giving a nod of his head to show he was satisfied the dreila hid no weapons.

Calimei breathed a sigh of relief, but Azazel gave a subtle chuckle, as if he’d been half expecting this. “What’s your purpose here?” he asked.

The dreila’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head forward. “Your holiness, I come to you because you are an angel of justice, and there has been a murder most foul.”

Azazel rattled his head, as if trying to shake off a blow to the head. “A demon seeks Seth’s justice.”

“I understand it is unusual,” said Koshek, an apologetic half-smile coming to his lips. “But I fear you and Seth are the only ones who can bring me justice this time. My people have been betrayed both by our king and by his heir.”

Azazel grunted and pointed his sword at the demon. “Why should Seth care about your kind? You’ve rebelled against--” Calimei tapped Azazel on the shoulder to get his attention. Mid-sentence, he turned to face her. “Yes, dear?”

A glance at her surroundings told her there were far too many people far too close for her to whisper and get away with it. She gave Azazel a pleading look and hoped he’d understand what it meant.

Azazel tilted his head, bit his lip, and finally his eyes opened wide in recognition. Then, they narrowed again, over an expression of true resolve. King Ozz turned his attention back to the demon, “My lady has given wise counsel. She wishes me to give you a chance to prove yourself.”

Koshek nodded and twisted at the waist. The soldiers surrounding him moved in just a step, to remind him to behave. By the wide-eyed stares on their faces, Calimei could tell they were fighting so hard not to blink, lest the demon disappear. The dreila paused at first, then continued his turn and pointed to a spot up in the mountains.

“See the birds taking flight from those trees?” he said. “And the condors gathering in closer to that spot? I’d be surprised if you didn’t recognize the signs, but that is where Prince Ra-Gadol’s war band is encamped. Tens of thousands of demons marching to war with him.”

Those in the crowd gasped, and Calimei heard a few cry out to the gods for mercy.

Though Azazel’s stance was firm, Calimei watched his right fist tremble with terror.

Calimei herself clenched her fists at her sides. Azazel’s fighting force was, maybe, eight-hundred at best. Even if they were desperate enough to arm the servants, squires, and pages too they’d only have about twelve-hundred. To make matters worse, the demons knew this terrain far better than they did.

“It’s a trap for you.” Koshek pointed his index finger at Azazel. “You and King Malkira both. The twisted little whelp wants to succeed his father, and he’s no longer willing to wait. He thinks if he can slay both you and his mad sire in one swoop, he will be the most beloved demon king of all time.” The dreila clenched both his fists and gritted his ivory teeth. “He is wrong!”

“Why?” Azazel asked. “Why would he not be a hero for that among your vile kind?” Calimei gave his wrist a light tug. She wanted to tell him that talking that way to the informant would likely make him mad, and he may seek justice elsewhere. Azazel whispered back, “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

“Because even we have what we hold sacred,” said the dreila. “The bond between a mother and a son. Ra-Gadol has violated that sacred bond in the most horrible way we could imagine...”

Calimei leaned in closer, itching to hear what it was the demons considered to be “too far.” What could this young prince have possibly done to make these marauding killers decide he was too wicked for them?

Azazel scratched his chin, as if contemplating what the dreila was about to say.

Koshek sighed, looked down, and covered his heart with his open palm. “He murdered his own mother. It’s a taboo that hasn’t been committed in over five-hundred years.”

A mix of gasps, snorts, and snickers, and cries to the gods arose from the crowd.

Dear gods…

Azazel’s eyes widened. “I… I see…”

Even the Silent Swordsman looked like he was about to retch.

Koshek shivered with disgust too. “I am one of only a few of us who know about what he has done and what he plans to do next. The others wish for us to do nothing. One is even so foolish he wishes to go back to serving our absentee king.” The dreila gave a sarcastic snort. “But I know there is a better option. My people would be better off free of both! That’s why I’ve come to you.”

Koshek dropped to one knee in front of Azazel and bowed his head. “King Azazel, first of your name…”

Wait, what the Hell?

The crowd murmured a similar sentiment.

The dreila’s head lowered further, and he held up his hands. “I, Koshek of the Perdition Demon Clan, son of Zalaam of the Western Sands, offer my life in service to you this day in exchange for but one favor.” Koshek looked up at Azazel, biting down hard on his lower lip. “Free my people from both the insane King Malkira and the debauched Prince Ra-Gadol! Once that is done, I pledge myself to work for you until the day of my death.”

Like everyone else around her, Lady Calimei stared in stunned silence at the scene. The noble lady’s mind raced through the seemingly infinite number of ways this demon’s words could be a trap. But if he was telling the truth they could split the demon clan to pieces in one fell swoop and not have to worry about them for many years.

Azazel shook his head. “Am I to accept a demon into my service? I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the first time you’ve ever shown your face to anyone, and you expect me to trust you?”

Calimei tapped Azazel’s shoulder again, and he turned to her. She nodded her head to him vigorously.

“Yes? Accept him?” Azazel whispered.

Calimei pointed an index finger at him so he would know he got it.

“Are you sure?” Azazel asked.

“Yes,” Calimei whispered, followed by an immediate glance over her shoulder at potential eavesdroppers.

“I swear by the Dark Mother’s grave!” said the dreila.

Azazel gave Calimei a knowing nod and returned to Koshek. “You will swear by Seth!”

“What?” the demon hissed.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Azazel pointed his finger at Koshek. “If you are to be a servant in my house, then you shall obey my rules. We serve Seth, the god of justice. By him you will swear to me your loyalty.”

Koshek clenched his fists and grinded his teeth. “Renounce the Dark Mother? I would be no better than that taboo-breaking prince…”

“That is my offer,” said Azazel, flourishing his sword in one hand. “You will follow the god I worship while in my house. Even if you hate him, you will show respect.”

Koshek bit his lip so hard, Calimei expected it to bleed. His head trembled, and soon his whole body followed. “Gaaaah!” he cried out, causing the soldiers all around him to jump back. Koshek fell to both knees and beat his fists upon the ground in fury. “Damn it... Damn it... Yes! Yes! I swear by Seth!” The dreila looked up at Azazel with tears in his eyes. “Just set my people free, and I swear by Seth that I will serve you until my dying day.”

Azazel whirled the sword around and whipped the flat down onto Koskek’s neck. The dreila drew in a sharp breath and shook. “I agree to your terms,” said Azazel. “I will slay Malkira and Ra-Gadol both for you. From henceforth you will serve me, my household, and my god.” King Ozz whipped the sword around and slapped the other side of Koshek’s neck with the flat of the blade. “Now, rise, Sir Koshek of… umm… of…” Azazel looked around, then up. He pointed to the jagged mountain on his right, the cliffs looming over him. “What is this mountain called?”

“The Tongue,” Koshek blurted out. The expression on his face told Calimei he’d only realized the implications of his answer after he’d given it.

Koshek winced as Azazel said, “Sir Koshek of the Tongue!” The angel king had a smirk on his face, though he fought to hide it.

Azazel sheathed his sword and folded his arms. Koshek gave him one final bow, then rose to his feet. The angel gestured for the demon to follow and started on his way to the tent where sat the war table.

Once they’d both arrived, Azazel turned and stared at the crowd. His eyes searched each of theirs, as if waiting for them to act in some way. After several moments had passed, Azazel cleared his throat and said, “I thought my loyal vassals might want to give their input on the strategy we must plan.”

Every lord of any significant rank there wanted to help plan the battle, and yet they hesitated. Calimei could understand why. None of them wanted to be seen standing next to a demon. Worse, to be seen working with him. Surely the rumors that Metorael was in Tir Shazelle had not been strange to their ears. Even the more underhanded, disreputable lords wouldn’t make a deal with a demon with fiery judgment hanging over head.

But here was an angel who was leading the way, one the gods had chosen to be their king. The young hero who’d saved Godsmouth and Brook Hold, both times by sacrificing himself for their good.

Calimei stepped forward, paused a moment, then crossed the distance between her and Azazel. The crowd murmured, and she averted her gaze from them until she was by King Ozz’s side and he had wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

From this day until my last, I will serve my king, my husband, my love.

The lords gazed on in astonishment at the three of them. The angel king, the demon of darkness, and the noble maiden all standing together. Not a lord dared move.

The Silent Swordsman stepped forth from the crowd. With all eyes upon him, he approached Koshek. When he stood before the dreila, he drew his sword from the sheath on his back and held it high. Koshek gaped up at the blade.

Adon turned and stood beside Koshek, resting his sword over his shoulder with one arm. He peered over at Azazel and Calimei, gave a cheerful smile, then turned to the lords and gave them a judging glare.

One of the older lords chuckled, shook his head, and stepped forward to take his place beside Azazel.

Then one of the younger ones.

Then many more, until all but two stood by Azazel’s side.

The two looked at each other, one a lady in her mid-thirties, the other a man in his sixties. Their eyes scanned the drawn weapons of every soldier in their sight.

Calimei stood on her toes and whispered in Azazel’s ear. “Grace.” She hoped the one word was enough. She didn’t dare say more for fear that someone may hear her stutter.

Azazel looked down at her, squinted, then turned to the lord and lady who remained. “You are permitted to take your banners and return home. You may even take your soldiers with you.” He gestured to those around them. “Weapons away.” The soldiers stepped back from the two nobles and sheathed their swords or stood their spears on end. Azazel pointed to the two nobles. “You may leave for now, but do not forget your oaths of fealty to me. I will assume your desire to leave is born of caution, not disloyalty. As long as you do not act against me. You are dismissed.”

The two nobles exchanged glances, then sighed and turned to leave.

Azazel gently squeezed Calimei’s shoulder and turned to Koshek. “Let’s begin, Knight of the Tongue. How can we best work to defeat both Malkira and Ra-Gadol.”