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NADIR
“Where are we off to this time?” Nadir asked Azimuth.
It was the third hunt in three days, and Nadir was ready for a break. She’d killed more daemons than she cared to count, which meant she’d stopped counting after she’d reached a hundred.
Azimuth consulted today’s dictate from Belial, again scrawled on another scrap of dingy paper. “It’s in the fields of Gehenna. A group of soul collectors known as the Time Bandits. I have the designated entry point. No survivors.”
“Does he actually write that down each time?” Nadir asked.
“If you have to ask,” Azimuth started.
“We should kill them for the name alone,” Kobol said, flicking a chunk of something wet and gooey off the surface of his war hammer.
“I think their title is a metaphor for the life force they feed upon,” Orias added.
All three of us turned and stared at Orias.
The slightest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I have a sense of humor, you know, and you looked like you needed it.”
Nadir could only shake her head.
“Strong work, mate,” Azimuth replied. He held out his hand, and each of us laid our palms over his fist. This way, when he ported to the location, he’d drag the rest of them along for the ride.
“Hit it,” Nadir said.
A moment later, the dank, fetid air of a foreign burrow hit Nadir and her cabal-mates as they materialized within the Time Bandits’ lair. The moist walls seemed to seep a chilly dampness that clung to their skin, while the pungent scent of sulfur stung their nostrils.
“Someone needs to clean once in a while,” Kobol whispered, his nose scrunching.
All four of them took up defensive positions, hiding in pockets along the cavern walls while they sized up their opponents.
As they cautiously explored the darkness, the unmistakable scent of human fear reached them. A shiver of dread ran down Nadir’s spine as they discovered three humans, bound and helpless, their shallow breaths and whimpers of pain echoing in the chamber. They were surrounded by more daemons than they had expected, all of them taking turns feeding off the humans’ dwindling life force.
“We can’t let them suffer,” Nadir whispered, her voice a mixture of anger and determination.
Azimuth, his skin glowing faintly in the darkness, nodded in agreement. “Fine. We’ll need a plan to eliminate the daemons without harming the humans. I’m counting about three dozen of them.”
Kobol, his eyes scanning the shadows, chimed in. “The moment we attack, the daemons will use the humans as shields. We need to be strategic.”
Orias’s voice was steady, despite the tension that hung heavy in the air. “We’ll need to be quick and lethal, striking from the shadows.”
“I can go invisible and cause some havoc,” Kobol replied.
Orias nodded. “I’ll surround the humans with my shadows. If we’re lucky, they’ll think they’ve disappeared.”
“I’ll chew them up and spit them out,” Nadir added.
“No, you won’t,” Azimuth replied. “You’ll use your sancre. All of us will.”
Crap, that thing again. Nadir slid one of her daggers back into its sheath, pulling the jet black sancre out instead. “My flesh-eater aspect is protesting.”
“If you get in a bite or two in the fray, that’s fine. Just make sure you finish them with the sancre,” Azimuth replied.
Anger flared in Nadir’s veins, but it wasn’t her lover she wanted to hurt. Every night since Belial’s new campaign started, Nadir had laid in bed thinking up ways to eliminate the prince without killing them all. So far, all she had were lots of mental diagrams on how she’d piece up the daemon and feed him into the pits of Sheol.
“Fine,” Nadir replied. “Last one in buys the first round.”
Nadir and her cabal-mates launched into the fray, their powers working in tandem to kill the daemons while doing their best to protect the humans. The sound of battle echoed through the chamber. The clash of steel, the hiss of arcane energies, and the guttural cries of the daemons as they met their end. The air crackled with power, the acrid smell of burned daemon flesh filling their nostrils.
