The Revenant squirmed in Shakkar's adamantine talons to no effect. “Kill me, monster,” he cried, “but don't consume me, please!"
Shakkar laughed long and loud, once more confident in his superiority. “Take us to Baron Grimm and his companions, or I shall savour your entrails while you live."
"I'll… I'll take you,” the Revenant stammered. “Don't hurt me."
"Sergeant Erik,” the demon boomed, “I order you to shoot anyone who opposes us. I will deal with anyone who does not fall."
Shakkar pulled one hand from the hapless human's ribs, extending his obsidian claws to their full, gleaming length. “You may be sure of that."
His other hand's talons ground into the wounded Revenant's midriff. “Do we understand each other, mortal?"
"Understood, Realster!” the man groaned. “I'll take you, I promise!"
Another robed man ran towards the demon, raising a heavy, wooden baton, and Shakkar did not hesitate. With one, smooth stroke, the assailant lost his head in a fine spray of blood.
"Sergeant Erik,” he said, “I think it only right to say that we are now at war."
Erik grinned. “That's what I've trained for, Lord Seneschal. I must say, I prefer it to all this diplomatic stuff."
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Chapter 21: Shakkar's Arrival
The sounds of merriment and revelry grew louder as the soldier, the demon and the wounded Revenant approached the town centre. Ready for trouble, Shakkar strained his ears for any sound of approach from behind them. The open streets gave way to narrow alleyways, increasing the possibility of sudden ambush.
Erik proceeded in a staccato sequence of movements, his black weapon at the ready, his head flicking from side to side like that of a snake scenting prey. At each street corner, the soldier pressed his back against the wall, waiting a few moments before leaping into the open in a crouch, the muzzle of his weapon weaving back and forth as Erik danced about, trying to surprise any lurking enemy.
So far, they had been lucky; no encroachments had been made upon them.
"The Brianstonians’ much-vaunted security cordon does not impress me,” Shakkar declared.
"A small perimeter is much easier to defend than a large one,” Erik said from the corner of his mouth. “I suspect the real fun lies closer to the town centre."
"You'll be feeding our beloved Uncle by the day's end,” the captive Revenant hissed, his face contorted and his teeth bared, like those of a cornered hound.
Shakkar dug his claws deeper into the impudent mortal's abdomen, drawing an agonised groan from the man.
"Put all futile thoughts of defiance and courage behind you, human,” he growled. “I fancy we may be able to find our way now, without your encumbrance. The only reason you still live is you may prove valuable as a hostage. Do not try to be brave, or I may decide that you are not worth leaving alive. Your only function is to lead us to Baron Grimm and his companions."
"And I will do so, devil, as I promised. However, I can't speak for the other members of the Council. The first checkpoint's coming up-we'll see how you fare then."
"Any ideas, Lord Seneschal?” Erik asked. “You know my rifle's no good against these Revenant types."
Shakkar scratched his leathery jaw with his free hand, producing a sound like a steel rasp on granite.
"Perhaps an advance scout might be an advantage,” he suggested. “Brother Thribble, would you be willing to fulfil this role?"
The tiny demon, clinging to Erik's webbing, nodded. “I, too, prefer action to inaction, friend Shakkar. Yes, I will do the deed."
"Where is nearest of these ‘check-points', worm?” The Seneschal added just a touch of emphasis with his steely talons.
"Ah!” The solid dream-entity, winced. “T-turn left ahead, and you'll see it-” Shakkar slapped his plate-sized palm over the Revenant's mouth, lest he cry out to his fellows.
Thribble scurried down Erik's body to the ground. “I will return in a few moments, when I have assessed the tactical situation,” he squeaked, with just a trace of self-important pomp. The demon scurried away like a frightened, grey mouse.
Several anxious minutes passed before he returned. “There is but a single Revenant at the station,” he shrilled, “but he is in direct sight of at least two others. There seems to be an unbroken line of communication around the entire inner area. Questor Grimm's prison is in the very centre of this. A stealthy approach appears impossible, and there must be fifty or more of these so-called Revenants. If they attacked in unison, even you, Brother Shakkar, might be at a considerable disadvantage."
Shakkar thought back to his encounter with just one of these creatures. A single Revenant had managed to bring him to his knees, and he recognised the truth in Thribble's tactful words.
"I could act as a decoy,” Erik suggested. “Maybe, if I made enough noise, I'd distract their attention, so you could sneak in."
Shakkar pondered the Sergeant's proposal; it seemed plausible, but the soldier might well pay for his boldness with his life. Despite the demon's former contempt for the human species, he found himself unwilling to countenance this.
"Your brave offer does you much credit,” he rumbled, “but I would prefer to examine alternatives before we commit ourselves to any one course of action. Brother Thribble, do you have any suggestions as to how we might proceed?"
"Perhaps I do, friend Shakkar,” Thribble piped. “This entire city appears to be no more than Gruon's dream. If we woke the sleeping entity, the Revenants and most of the buildings might cease to exist."
At these words, the captive Revenant began to struggle, thrashing in Shakkar's grasp as if possessed. The demon, acting on the purest reflex, drew the man's head to his chest in an attempt to subdue him. The human's strength was phenomenal, and Shakkar squeezed rather more tightly than he intended.
After a crunching, clicking sound, the man's struggles came to an abrupt end, and Shakkar realised he had broken the Revenant's neck. He could not bring himself to grieve as he let the corpse fall to the ground in an untidy heap, its head twisted at an unnatural angle.
"Well, I guess that's one less problem to worry about,” Erik said. Kneeling down, he asked Thribble, “Do you know where this Gruon character is, demon friend?"
"When I first searched the town, Sergeant, I saw the appearance of a strange apparition, some kind of mud golem. A bizarre creature it was, and the Brianstonians began to panic as it moved through them. However, they soon seemed to forget the mud-being; I imagine that such fantastic creations are commonplace in this peculiar place."
"What of this mud-thing, Thribble?” Shakkar growled, beginning to find his fellow demon's loquacity wearing. “What does this phantasm have to do with Sergeant Erik's question?"
Thribble gave a whistling snort. “Why, Brother Shakkar, I saw it disappear into a large, stone temple with Gruon's name on it. I know where the mausoleum lies from here."
"Then that is what we shall do,” Shakkar declared. “It is time for this dream to end."
Erik raised his hand. “Just a moment, friends; do you know what sort of creature this Gruon is?"
"Some sort of dragon, I hear,” the imp said, with a shrug.
"A dragon?” Erik said, raising his eyebrows. “Is there such a creature?"
"There is,” Shakkar said, feeling the inexorable descent onto his heart of the cold hand of uncertainty. “Dragons come from a dimension much akin to mine. Their skin is like stone, and their breath is blue flame. My nest-brother, Akkin, had the misfortune to meet one in single combat. He was scorched to a crisp before he could land a blow on the being.
"It shames me to admit it, but I am almost the runt of my litter. Akkin was twice the demon I am. If he could not defeat a dragon, I would surely stand little chance against one. Perhaps direct assault against an angry dragon is not our best option."
Erik rose to his full height and stretched. “What else do we have? It doesn't sound like easy duty in paradise, sure, but we're running out of choices here."