The demon wheeled in the air and almost lost his balance, as the gleefully hooting, swaying Erik threatened to destabilise him. However, after a few moments with cold, electric sensations approaching panic, Shakkar managed to adjust his attitude and fly towards the hill.
I cannot take much more of this, the demon thought, as the Sergeant continued to cavort in his grasp. We must set down; either that, or I let this foolish, impetuous mortal fall to his death.
The underworld being mused on this enticing possibility for a few moments, but he decided against it.
We have a mission to fulfil, and I have a duty to the humans of Crar; even one as irksome as this man.
"I think we should set down here, Sergeant."
"I understand, Lord Seneschal; you must be tired after all this effort,” the soldier replied, and Shakkar almost dropped him there and then.
"My decision was founded upon tactical considerations,” he said through gritted teeth.
"As you wish, Sir; this looks like a nice, flat spot,” the imperturbable, infuriating mortal replied.
Shakkar spread his wings to their full extent and angled them so that he dropped towards the ground at a reasonable pace.
Ten feet from the ground, the demon released his human cargo without warning, hoping that the Sergeant would sprawl in an undignified heap on the soil. Instead, the man landed on his feet, rolled on his side and stood up in one smooth, elegant motion, as Shakkar landed beside him.
Erik brushed dust, grass and twigs from his uniform as if nothing had happened. He appeared more concerned with his apparel and his equipment
You irritating little worm! the demon raged inside his head, but he forced himself to speak in a civil manner.
"I trust you are unhurt, Sergeant?"
"General Quelgrum insisted we practice jumping from small towers, and I never knew why. A friend told me the General got the idea from some ancient book, and I always thought it a stupid waste of time. Still, orders are orders, as they say. Still, that training came in handy there, though, didn't it?"
"If you say so, Sergeant,” the demon said. “Shall we proceed?"
"Of course, Lord Seneschal.” Erik hoisted his pack a little higher onto his shoulders, and he began to whistle as he marched up the path to the scorched buildings.
"Would you mind ceasing that infernal racket?” Shakkar asked; the piping, sibilant sequence of tones irked him. For all he knew, the man might have a glorious, perfect musical ear, but the world of melody was denied to him. Music was a peculiarly human phenomenon, and all Shakkar could discern was an arbitrary series of frequencies. This, along with the human's attitude, managed to grate on the Seneschal's nerves.
Erik stopped in his traces, and looked the demon straight in the eye.
"It's all right, Lord Seneschaclass="underline" I understand. You were tired, and you needed to rest a while. That's no problem with me."
"I was not tired, Sergeant! I made a tactical decision. Is that understood?"
Erik nodded, but the demon believed he caught the ghost of a smile on the soldier's face.
Before he could speak, the Sergeant barked, “Understood, Lord Seneschal; a tactical decision. Yes, Sir!"
The human's hand flipped to his right temple in what Shakkar recognised as a respectful, military gesture.
"As long as that is understood, Sergeant,” the demon said, “we may continue."
"It's understood, Sir."
Erik unslung his black firearm and inspected the open, tube-like end of the weapon. Apparently satisfied, he flicked a small lever and pulled back on a small handle, to the accompaniment of a loud clacking sound. He then slung the item back over his shoulder, before opening and inspecting the contents of several small pouches arrayed around his waist
"What are you doing, Sergeant?"
"I'm just getting ready in case there's any trouble, Lord Seneschal. You can't be too careful; this place has a rough reputation."
Shakkar snorted. “I believe myself more than equal to any human threat we might face,” he said, showing the sabre-like claws on his right hand. “These should be more effective than any Technological toy."
"I just thought you might want to take it easy for a little while after all your effort-"
"I am not fatigued! Is that quite understood, Sergeant Erik?"
"Understood, Sir! The Seneschal is not tired, Sir!"
Shakkar's keen ears heard a sotto voce addendum to this response: “Why, you're just as human as the rest of us, aren't you, demon?"
Despite the hot blood he could feel rushing into his face, the Seneschal pretended that he had not heard.
I refuse to lower myself by engaging in idle chitchat with this earthly moron. Erik is just convinced that I must be afflicted with the same mortal weaknesses of the others of his kind and I cannot blame him for that. Faced with an evidently superior being, he is projecting his human insecurities onto me. I shall be merciful and let his impudence pass for now.
The demon and the soldier passed a small, deserted kiosk by the side of the road, as they approached the blackened skeleton of a large building.
"A checkpoint, Lord Seneschal,” Erik said. “See the firing steps and gun-slits-no good for bows. They must have had weapons like mine, but something hit them hard. Something they couldn't handle: must have been Lord Grimm and his companions."
"Thank you for your invaluable advice, Sergeant,” the demon growled, allowing a dull, sarcastic tone to creep into his voice. “I am glad you are here to make these insightful observations. Kindly restrict your opinions to the matter in hand."
"Yes, Sir! The matter in hand; I understand, Sir!"
Shakkar noted the soldier's stiff, inexpressive face, and he guessed that the impudent mortal was hiding amusement. This enraged him all the more, and he felt his tail flicking back and forth in autonomous agitation.
At last, it seemed that Erik could hold in his mirth no longer, and a brief snort escaped his nose.
Shakkar rose to his full height and bared his steak-knife fangs, his wings spread like a flamboyant cape, but he realised with a sudden shock just how unreasonable-how human-was his anger.
Erik's face paled, but he held his ground. “I'm sorry, Lord Seneschal,” he said in a serious tone. “I apologise for my unforgivable impertinence. I had no cause to mock you, and I regret my rash, disrespectful attitude. I should know better by now than to sound off at my seniors."
The man's heels clicked together, and he stiffened into a pose of attention, his right hand flicking into position at his temple. All traces of impudence had disappeared, and the soldier appeared to have resigned himself to whatever fate held in store for him.
Well done, Shakkar, the demon thought. You have browbeaten a mere mortal into submission with a show of force. What will you do now-rend him limb from limb for his effrontery or acknowledge that your actions and attitudes have been unreasonable? Which takes the greater courage?
As the mortal retained his perfect, parade-ground stance, Shakkar sighed.
"Very well, Sergeant,” he said, with some effort. “I will overlook your behaviour on this occasion. I acknowledge some small faults of my own: I was not quite truthful when I told you I was not fatigued after our long journey; and my temper has not been all that it might have been, in my eagerness to requite our mission. You have tendered me an apology, so I, as a demon, can do no less. I am sorry, Sergeant."
"That's very good of you, Lord Seneschal, but as an experienced soldier, I should have known better-my fault was the greater one, Sir."
For the first time in his life, Shakkar found himself extending his hand toward a human without showing his claws. The mortal took it, grasping the ends of the demon's fingers.
"Well met, Lord Seneschal. It takes a big man to admit-I'm sorry, Sir, I mean…"
The man's face was a wide-eyed mask of confusion.
Shakkar began to wonder if being classed as human was quite the insult he had thought.
These puny beings, so ill-equipped to face the unforgiving world without the aid of contrivances and tools, must live in constant terror of a greater force. And yet, they still throve and flourished, often masking fear and misgiving with mockery and humour. Just like Shakkar denying his weakness, this mortal was hiding his fear, prepared to die rather than submit to his baser emotions.