Runaway Devil

Fire engulfed me but I found comfort in the searing heat. The training grounds had expanded over the years, as our numbers grew. I could feel my muscles working beneath my skin, emitting heat, sweat dripping from everywhere. Grunts and shouts of power could be heard across the fields, the sound of weapons clashing accompanying them. As I picked up another weapon, deciding that I needed to polish my dual-wielding skills, a group of large men barreled through a group of new trainees.

They surveyed the grounds, searching with glaring eyes. As soon as one of them saw me, standing proudly with my hound, Balan, he led the rest towards me. Some warriors looked between me and the guards, putting the pieces together. They knew they were there for me, and I could see the hesitation in their eyes. I shook my head subtly, a small movement that only they could decipher.

A couple took a step towards the men, who were pushing through pairings that were sparring. I did not set my weapons down, but I intentionally took a less aggressive stance. I swallowed my growls as they approached.

We remained silent, neither of us breaking eye contact. Balan stood in front of me, protective, knowing that these men were not our allies.

"Come with us, soldier." The lead man spoke with authority but did not look at me like I was not important enough to be addressed directly.

"Why?" Insubordination was rewarded with termination. But, with my position within my battalion, I was allowed some breathing room. Them being there told me all I needed to know. I was already too deep, and at that point, I had nothing to lose.

"What did you just say?" I quickly pictured what would happen if I attempted to escape. "Did you just question the council's guard?" His joy bled into his voice. He now had a reason to kill me where I stood. I could feel all eyes on us.

I did not look at my fellow warriors. I had fought with them, gone into battle, and killed alongside them. We were all bonded, our lives saved by one another. There was a respect and loyalty that even out-shined our oath to our superiors.

We all had buzzed heads, and we all bore scars. It was the protocol to shave off all the hair on your head before a battle. And since we were always in battle, I have had a buzzed head for about ten years. My first battle was at the young age of twelve, I was only able to lift a short sword at that point.

From a distance, Dusty, one of the bigger warriors, as well as fourteen years my senior, saluted. His fist pounded against his chest, over his heart. He was the closest I had ever had to a friend. We didn’t talk much, but there was no need, we spoke through our mind link and with our body language. Words were never either of our strong suits. Luckily they were considered obsolete in war.

All the other soldiers on the grounds followed in suit, their salutes a ferocious chorus. A small smirk danced over my hard face. They were with me. I held their loyalty and swords in my grasp. Over the years I had built a relationship with each and every warrior, and they were all on my side.

The council had created a monster who lived for battle, and now they faced the end of my sword. I was a fighter and I would die fighting. These people were my people. I was their true leader and I was where their loyalty lay.

The council's guard looked from the soldiers to me, understanding the silent tension. A couple rolled their eyes and unsheathed their swords. They had made the assumption they would just 'take care' of us. But they had no idea what we were capable of. They may have been an elite group of guards, but they were far from the blood-hungry warriors on those training grounds.

I looked to Dusty, letting my eyes flash gold, asking a silent question. He smirked in response, and all hell broke loose. I lunged first, slashing deep into the face of the man closest to me. Balan and I were in sync, we had been fighting with each other ever since both of us could walk. He was the other half of my soul, we completed each other. There was a visceral connection between a demon and their hound. One that would be detrimental if broken.

My mouth opened and nothing short of a battle cry erupted. Dusty’s deep, fierce yell reverberated off of the crowd and he led them to rebellion. I growled with a newfound ferocity. I felt my body warm, my muscles generating heat like a bonfire. My body was fluid and tight at the same time, I was moving from person to person, killing the men who planned on taking me. They had back-up ready, who stepped in. I smiled, flashing my fangs with bloody satisfaction.

I growled deeply, with a kind of warm, joyful aggression. I wanted to feel their flesh give under my nails and teeth. I spread my wings out to their full span, which was about five feet. They would grow at most six or seven more inches. They were strong and reliable, they were a constant in my life. All of the fully grown demon's wings had reached their shins while tucked away against their backs.

I beat my wings hard and lunged at a man in uniform. Within minutes the entire group of guards and their backup were dead, mangled in unnatural positions littering the fields. All of the other warriors had turned on their officers and were killing anybody with a uniform that didn’t match their own. They all stood united against a common enemy. Dusty broke away from a throng of soldiers and looked to me. We both nodded at the same time, and crouched, bolting into the hot, muggy air.

"The gates?" He mind-linked me. His voice was deep in my mind. He was my friend, and even through hell, we could make it together. Warmth spread through my chest and I felt the pull of adrenaline shoot to my stomach.

"The gates," I responded in the same fashion. I looked to Balan and he understood. He broke away from the fight and bounded after me. He followed on foot, having no trouble keeping up. I smiled at Dusty and we flew together faster than we ever had before. I felt a strange excitement as if we were flying into battle. We were twisted darkly, our souls reflective of our lives. I couldn’t help but feel a certain freedom when flying into battle, I could let my aggression take hold and let loose. I could kill savagely, without repercussions or holding back. It was reckless freedom that I thrived on.

We knew that slowing down would mean death. We flew as if we were setting out for war, with trained precision, neither of us skipping a wing beat. I saw the gates in the distance. They were old, ancient actually, and rusted to the very core. They would leave dark, smudged marks on whoever touched them. I stretched for them, leaning into the oncoming wind caused by our speed. Dusty pulled closer to me, his wings much larger than mine, so they covered me from above. He was protecting me so I could make it.

Demons never left hell. I was doing something no demon had even tried in eons. After the rebellion, they made it so demons would burn if they touched the gates. It seared the skin, scaring whoever touched them. It ensured that the council would always have hordes of demons at their disposal, blindly following.

I was so close and picking up speed. I braced myself, preparing for impact. The second my shoulder made contact with the gate I could feel an intense burning. My skin had split, and it scorched my wounds. My skin was burning, blistering. I screamed out in pain but I didn’t stop. I would never stop. They wanted me dead and as long as I stayed there, I would be. Dusty joined me, gritting his teeth so hard I swore I could hear them cracking. He let out a loud, guttural growl, I could hear the gate creak and groan. It was built to not let anything through, so to try and push through was ludicrous. I grabbed the gate with my hands, let out another scream of pain, and pushed harder, my wings beating like a hummingbird's. I could feel when we broke through, but my eyes were screwed shut, and I hadn’t thought to open them. I felt Dusty’s hand splayed across my back and he shoved. Hard. I was propelled forward and I spun through the air as if I was in a great body of water and the currents were too strong to fight. Once I had righted myself, I looked back to see Dusty being buried beneath a pile of men. There were too many, he couldn’t take them all. I felt Balan pull at my mind, urging me to follow him. My body felt weak, and I couldn't move.

He threw a man off of his back and roared as he killed two more. They slashed at his legs, and he fell to his knees. Everything slowed down. If I went back, all of it would have been for nothing. All of my fellow warriors who fell in the fight would have been for nothing.

"Dusty?" My voice sounded like a whisper to me, my blood had rushed to my ears, and all I could hear was static. He broke out of a man’s grip and fought hard, one against half a battalion.

"Go!" He yelled over his shoulder, holding off three men. They were closing in on him. My chest tightened and I reached out to him mentally. I sent my spirit to him, supporting him and making sure he knew I wanted to fight alongside him. "Go!" He said once more. I closed my eyes and turned, rushing out before the guards could fit through the gates.

I was out. But at what cost?