Thump.
My spine goes rigid. Something heavy drops to the ground a distance behind me. The snarling is louder now, the throaty growl so close it sounds like it’s right in my ears. The first demon has arrived.
Survival
Ashenvale, Shadowthorn
I turn around to face the demon. Considering its back is to a building, I estimate that it jumped down from one of the rooftops. It turns its head, licking its muzzle as another demon appears from between two of the buildings to stand at its side. They’re canine in form, which doesn’t bode well, but I should’ve known considering the way in which they were circling. The scholar taught us that these kinds of demons travel in packs, and they attack much like wolves do. They fan out, surrounding their target, and when they see an opening, they lunge.
“Maxwell,” I say pleadingly, kicking his boot.
Two more demons catch the corner of my eye. They enter from the road I came down, their snarling wild and vicious.
I keep my back to the fallen shadowcreature behind me, if not to serve as a reminder of what I am capable of, to at least offer me some protection. It’s so large a creature that the demons will have no choice but to attack me from the front. That is, as long as no demons leap down from the roof behind me.
I tighten the grip on my axe and ready my stance. I’m not sure if the blade of my shadowsteel is sharp enough to slice through them all if they lunged at once, but I suppose I have no choice. I will die fighting if I am to die at all.
Thump.
The sound comes from behind me.
No… If a demon has landed at my back, then I have no defense against it. If I turn and look now, the creatures in front of me will lunge, fangs glistening and eager to sink into my flesh. But if one did land behind the massive creature at my back, for all I know it could be climbing the fallen demon I’m huddled against; it could be standing over me in a matter of seconds; it could tear into me even quicker.
The large body of shadowcreature I’m backed up against rocks as if something is climbing up from the other side.
My breathing hastens. My gaze rotates between the two demons before me, the two beside me, and up toward my hairline, to check for dripping fangs. I want to scream for help again, but that’s something else we’ve been warned against. The demons thrive off fear. Hearing terror sets them in a frenzy, and my cries for help would be devoured by their hungry jaws.
A shadow falls over me and my skin goes cold. The demon is standing directly above me then. Morbid curiosity forces my gaze upward to the thing standing tall on the dead creature. But it’s not canine like the others though. In fact, the darkness covering its body only takes over its arm and neck. The rest of its body is pale flesh. Skin. Dare I say human.
The hulking figure bounds over me, hardly glancing in my direction at all, save for the briefest flicker of interest when its midair. It launches itself at the first demon I laid eyes on. The two of them collide, their rock-hard bodies crashing against each other with the rumbling sound of thunder. The other demons growl and bare their teeth, but they seem too confused to move. I am too. The only other time I’ve seen demons fighting each other, let alone one that had humanistic qualities was—
The first demon’s head is ripped off its body, and the demon-man I’ve encountered now thrice rises from its crumpling corpse. His dark eyes meet mine, a humored look about them as recognition crosses his expression, as if he himself is just as surprised to find me here as I am. Or perhaps I’m misreading it. Perhaps the thrill of the hunt is what flashes through his dark eyes, his prey finally cornered.
Our eye contact is fleeting though when the demon beside him pounces. Its jaws snap, sharp teeth begging for a taste of his bared chest and arms, but he holds the creature at bay with his impressive muscles. The demon has strength too, and in its frenzy it writhes and wiggles, inching closer and closer until its teeth are so close that I’m sure they graze the demon-man’s chest.
He brings his elbow down on the shadowcreature’s snout before it can clamp shut on his exposed skin. The beast whines, sniffing the air and looking from the half-demon and back to me as if it doesn’t quite understand why it’s been prevented this hunt.
Truth be told, I didn’t either at first, but then I recall the way this demon-man tore the head and limbs from the creature that killed my parents, just so he could have the beast’s spoils. Unlike the canine shadowcreatures surrounding us, the demon-man doesn’t belong to a pack. He hunts on his own, and considering how far he’s followed me already, I fear he will stop at nothing to ensure my demise is brought about at his own hand.
But I can hardly think about that right now. My options are not looking too favorable. There are too many demons to outrun. Even if I tried, even if I managed to sneak away while the demon-man had them distracted, he’d still come for me.
For the time being though, we appear to be on the same side. He wants the creatures dead. So do I.
As he wrestles one of the demons, the other two grow impatient. Snarling, they prowl toward him, casting me a minimal glare before giving him their full attention. He’s already killed one of their pack, and they likely don’t want him to get away with killing another.
My arm shakes under the weight of my axe, but I dash across the courtyard to the demon-man’s side, just as he draws a shortsword from a sheath I hadn’t seen at his side, and buries into the demon’s neck. There’s a half second where I’m able to startle at such an act—no demon knows how to wield a sword. The beast whines, staggering away a few steps before collapsing and I become even more stunned.
It wasn’t just any weapon the demon-man struck with, but one forged from shadowsteel.
The remaining demons become frenzied. Hackles raised, they howl and snap at the air, all of their rotten fangs showing in a menacing show of the weapons they will use to avenge their fallen brethren. Seeing two of their pack die at our hands has cemented our fates. They will tear us limb from limb.
The shadowcreatures pounce, invigorated and wild. The larger beast leaps for the demon-man, but the other comes for me.
There is no skill behind how wildly I swing my axe, but I swipe the air with the mad desperation of a cornered house cat. I remind myself that not moments ago, I took down a demon thrice its size. I should feel emboldened, confident, capable. But this desperation is different. I’m not doing what I must to protect a helpless friend. I’m fighting for my own life. You’d think that would be incentive enough to remember my training, but it has the opposite, crippling effect. My life is on the line. One wrong move, one too-slow a parry or careless offensive strike, and the demon will have me. One prick of its fangs or claws, and I’m as good as dead.
The demon takes another snapping leap toward me and I dodge backward just before its teeth can sink into my leathers. It’s toying with me, I realize. These creatures defy human prowess. They can leap impossible distances; they can run faster than any known animal can, and yet this one prowls intently, slowly.
It wants me to be afraid. Fear, above all else, is what satiates a demon’s hunger. And so, this one continues lunging and snapping, and I continue swinging and backing away, until my back is pressed up against another building.
“Piss on a mage,” I curse to myself, wishing I was more skillful and more keenly aware of my surroundings. But how can I focus on anything other than the beast in front of me and the weapon in my hand?