Runaway Devil

Dusty (Jareth)

Karau's town never stood a chance. The council's men swept through like a storm, dismantling the very foundation of these people's lives.

Their marching had grown so loud it sounded like a herd of beasts approaching. Their footfalls were maximized with their synchronicity, a battle tactic to trick your opponent into thinking you were greater in number. I sat and waited, listening to their every move. They were not subtle, nor were they glamoured. Not one of them had shielded their true forms. Their recklessness led to unpredictability, and that would mean death.

Stealing away into the surrounding greenery, I focused all of my energy into hiding my scent. I stayed low and quiet, like a beast waiting for just the right moment. The underbrush smelled of wet soil and the subtle musk of an animal. It would soon be overpowered by the smell of smoke. They would burn the humans from their homes, leaving nowhere for Karau to hide.

The council's men held the same arrogance and hubris as their masters. I sensed a lack of respect within them. They had only heard of Karau. Never having seen her, she was just a whisper between soldiers. My previous estimation of close to a hundred was an overshoot. I counted close to sixty, all of them lousy with comfortable confidence. They were armed to the teeth with every weapon under our Hellish sun. Every soldier wielded their preferred weapon, making them even more dangerous. This was the weapon they had trained the most with, an extension of themselves. Their movements would not falter, nor would they hesitate.

Karau's allies would have her scent smeared all over them. Regardless of how long she had been away, the council's trackers would smell her. They tracked her scent all the way here, where it was strongest, where it lingered the most.

Beth never saw it coming. I watched from a distance, curious to see what the council's plan was. They were impatient, to say the least. Beth sat in a worn armchair, the stitches coming loose at the corners, reading a book and sipping tea. Her day had been long and she was treating herself to some much-needed downtime. Her heart was steady, strong, and relaxed.

It nearly lept from her chest when her front door crashed in. The council's dogs bled into her home like a spreading disease. I watched from afar, feeling nothing significant. They almost tore her arm from its socket as they ripped her from her home. Her panic permeated the air with an acrid, pungent scent. Her face was one of a deer as it looked into the eyes of its killer, a chunk of their body still in its mouth. There was awareness in her fear, she knew she was in deep shit. As she desperately searched for help, hoping that anyone would come, her eyes found me. I slunk back into the cover of the woods. No one would come for her, the council made sure of that. Her cries tore through her throat, becoming more desperate than before.

If the council knew how to do one thing, it was violence. Pillaging was a part of war, possibly one of the most popular. It was the chance to take your spoils, to enjoy what you fought through rivers of blood and gore for. But these soldiers were not fighting, they were decimating. They sauntered through this town, tearing and slashing through anything that moved like a warm knife through butter.

The humans had nothing the council wanted, only Karau.

The air had turned sour. Any who still lived were corraled at the center of town. Those who remained were small in number, their fear was bright and angry, screaming for whoever would listen.

Their panic annoyed me to no end. It was loud and buzzing, like a fly clinging to your face. The council's dogs had halted their assault, as ordered. It was confirmed that no other humans dwelled in the small town, the ones who resisted the least were all gathered. Their tears wafted a sour smell around them, accompanied by vomit and desperation.

If they didn't want to be treated like animals, they should have been prey. The soldiers lounged around the town center, waiting for something, but not knowing what it was. They spoke, rested, and socialized as if they were in their own camp. I watched a man leaning against a nearby tree, eating beast jerky. He tore the meat with his large teeth, strings of saliva trailing from the hunk of jerky. My mouth watered and my heart beat harder in my chest. The beasts meat had a richer, heartier scent that left human animals wanting. The meat was tough and thick, a single chunk could satisfy a demon for a whole day, at least. My concentration lapsed, as well as my judgment and guard.

I hadn't noticed soldiers quieting, the whole camp hushing in unison. Anyone who was sitting, stood. Anyone leaning against a surface, straightened. They wiped the smiles from their faces and silenced jovial conversation. Their commander was present, and they would show respect. My eyes followed their hard gazes and my heart pounded in my ears. I could feel the color drain from my face, my quiet breathing almost stopping completely.

She stalked through her men, her battle armor immaculately shining in the evening sun. Her sharp face was elongated by her hair, which reached her lower back. The grass behind her was flattened by her wings, which dragged along the ground silently. Her quiet confidence had been earned. She was the only one on the council who had seen battle. She never liked Karau, it was only fitting she be the one who dragged her back to Hell.

Azgaria had waited too long for this day, she could practically taste Karau's blood in her mouth.