7

“What should we do?” Falcon asked a little nervously as Crux returned to stand beside him. He nearly reached out and grabbed the demon's sleeve again, but resisted the urge, batting it away. Now was not the time to behave like a child. He had left such days behind him. He was a warrior, trained for situations like these.
“Crux isn't entirely sure,” the demon said with a sigh, and then Falcon heard a distinctive pop as the demon relocated his arm with a soft hiss. After a moment Crux went on, recovered from the pain. “There must be a way out, however, besides overhead. The haekiish and...its predator...both got in here, and one left again. Perhaps there is a door, and Crux just hasn't spotted it.”
“We should look,” Falcon said, eager to escape, but not excited with the idea of possibly running into whatever had killed the haekiish. He moved forward, and soon found a cold, damp stone wall. He ran his fingers through the cracks and crevices, walking slowly along the wall's length, seeking a way to open a door, or anything like unto. He heard Crux doing the same a short way off, using his claws to tap the stone now and then.
The stench of rot was nearly overpowering now, and Falcon realized he was approaching the beast's corpse. He quickly backed away, nearly tripping over debris, catching himself and hurrying to where he had last heard Crux. Fortunately the demon was still there, and he patted Falcon's shoulder gently as he arrived.
“No luck?” he inquired.
Falcon shook his head. “No.”
“Hm. Crux hasn't had any either. But there has to be a way. There always is.” He reached a little higher. “Oh.”
“What?”
Crux found Falcon's arm. “Allow Crux to boost you up. Haekiish, and whatever killed this one, are a lot taller than we two, so, perhaps the handle or lever is further up the wall.”
Falcon nearly laughed with relief. “Of course,” he said, both for permission and because it was another option. He bent down and removed his sandals.
The demon lifted him carefully, managing not to brush again his left shoulder as he set him on his shoulders. “Steady. Don't fall,” Crux cautioned.
“I won't,” Falcon assured him. He had a natural talent for balance, and enough Farinonian training to back and to refine it. He used his hands to feel around, bracing his feet and curling his toes to stay secure as Crux slowly walked along the wall, allowing Falcon more room to explore with his fingers. “Crux?” he asked after a moment. “Why would the way out be accessible to the monsters, and not people? What was this place?”
“Both very good questions that Crux would also like an answer for. Unfortunately Crux isn't well-versed in Lithisian architecture, history or folklore. He has told you all he knows.”
Falcon nodded absently, ignoring the grime collecting under his fingernails. Occasionally a strand of black hair fell in his face, but he ignored it and kept working. Without full use of his eyes there was no reason to bat it away.
They neared the rotting animal once again, Crux carefully sliding his feet along the ground, gripping Falcon's ankles to support him while the latter kept groping, searching.
“Um,” Falcon said.
“Did you find something?” Crux asked, halting.
“No. I was just wondering why you kept your sight, and I didn't.”
Crux started moving again, slowly. “Ah, that. Yes. It is because Crux's ability to see in the dark is not one he is confident of or especially adept at. You see, Falcon, the power suppression doesn't take everything—just anything especially and naturally useful. Anything the wielder would use most often to help in a situation such as this. Crux half-suspects that perhaps this chamber was meant as an execution chamber for those powerful people who sought to take the emperor's life. Perhaps that floor above us that collapsed was not simply old and decayed. It could very likely have intentionally dropped us in here to die at the hand of whatever creature ate our rotting friend here.”
Falcon wrinkled his nose again. “That's pleasant. So, we were basically sentenced to death. But, then, why only take some of our abilities?”
“As Crux said,” the demon reminded patiently, “the spell is old. Ancient, in fact. A few decades before now and we would have found ourselves without any sort of power, ever.”
“But why secure the disuse of our power forever if the creature's supposed to eat us?”
“Well...” Crux trailed off, thinking. “Crux isn't certain. Perhaps in case those sent down here did somehow manage to escape. They might have gotten away, but they would never be much of a threat again.”
“Power isn't the only tool a man can use,” Falcon said darkly, flashes of blood and lifeless eyes passing through his mind.
“True,” Crux said sadly. “Men—humans and demons both—have always found a way to hurt and to kill.”
Falcon grew silent as Crux's words rang softly through the death chamber. Despite Fayne's words, despite everything his parents had taught him, despite Crux's warning, a part of him still wanted to seek out and destroy the men who had massacred his family; his friends; everyone in the palace. Still, the other half of him—what was left of him from before—wasn't sure he would go looking for them. He was still so weak...And Crux was right. He would be no better than those who had taken the lives of his loved ones, if he killed them.
But he wasn't sure he could hold back if he ever saw them again. He wasn't sure the rage he felt as he remembered them would ever fade away completely. He doubted it would lessen enough for him not to react if they met again.
“Any luck?” Crux inquired, bringing Falcon once more from his thoughts.
“Um, no,” Falcon said, sliding his hand across the surface again, to make certain.
“If Crux hadn't dropped the torch above...” the demon lamented softly.
“What about your Void Pocket?”
Crux sighed. “Unfortunately, as Crux's Void power is suppressed, so are his Pockets. No; we're on our own now, Falcon. At least until someone above realizes we are missing. How long do you suppose it will take before your uncle discovers you are gone?”
Falcon wasn't sure that the man would care, even if he discovered it. “Well,” he mused. “That depends on if he gets out of bed.”
Crux chuckled. “A valid point. Certainly in an hour or so Ehri-shora will notice our absence, as that is when lunch was to be served. It is possible he already knows; however, he's been conducting a lot of important business of late, and Crux wonders if he is even aware of the passage of time currently.”
“What about Kiien?” Falcon asked.
“He will be asleep for some time yet, if he knows what is good for him.” Crux's tone was almost a warning.
“No, I mean, will he be all right without you tending to him?”
“Oh. Crux is certain he will be fine. He does bounce back. Rather too quickly for his own good, Crux fears, but that is his nature. What can one do about it?” He turned away from the wall, but Falcon kept his balance easily. “Come on down. Crux doubts we will find anything along the walls.”
Falcon crouched, placed his hands on either side of Crux's neck, and slid down his back, landing lightly on the gritty floor. “What now?”
“An excellent que—” The demon cut off as a distant rumble came from beneath them. “Falcon. Step behind the haekiish.” Even as he gave the instruction, he grabbed Falcon's arm and half-dragged him toward the pungent corpse. They squeezed between the haekiish and the blood-spattered wall, crouching low as the center of the floor rumbled, and Falcon guessed it was opening.
A second smell—this one as unpleasant as the rotting corpse, if not more—wafted up from the opened ground. The malodorous combination of refuse, blood and mold threatened to overpower Falcon's senses, and dizziness threatened to knock him unconscious, but the adrenaline pumping through his system kept him alert.
Crux's hand still firmly gripped Falcon's wrist, and Falcon felt the demon's tenseness as he watched whatever foul creature began to climb from the gap, bringing the terrible smell with it. Falcon heard its heavy breathing as it lifted itself through the floor's opening, claws scraping against stone.
Crux made a strangled sort of sound in his throat, and Falcon turned to him, almost speaking, frightened for his friend. He only barely stopped himself, and was relieved when Crux's hand squeezed his wrist reassuringly.
It took an eternity for the creature to enter the chamber fully, and Falcon guessed it was due to its tremendous size, and therefore considerable weight. The ground seemed to shake, though he couldn't be sure if that was just his imagination or not.
A second shudder assured him it wasn't.
The monster approached them, repellent breath heaving from its massive mouth. Falcon looked up in the darkness and for a moment he saw eyes overhead; shining black, cold and intelligent. He crouched lower, barely daring to breathe, praying silently to his people's god for some sort of aid, more out of habit than any sort of hope of being rescued.
Crux squeezed Falcon's wrist again, gaining his attention. Get ready, he seemed to say. This is our chance. Falcon nodded firmly, though his heart hammered loudly enough that the creature must have discovered their location. He scowled at himself, drawing a deep, silent breath to calm his nerves. They were still alive. That meant something.
Again Crux squeezed; a sign that it was time to run. He allowed the demon to pull him toward him, and they leapt from their hiding place, sprinting madly for the sole entrance from this place. The monster cried out, seeing them, and it tried to turn its lumbering body around—not an easy feat.
They jumped through the gap, falling a long way until both landed on their feet. Only then did Crux release his hold on Falcon's wrist.
“Quickly. We are in its domain now. We must find an exit,” Crux exclaimed.
“Right.”
They ran again, breathless, sweating, but they didn't stop. Feet slapped against stone, then random puddles of stagnant water, droplets flying into the air. They kept going. It took a while for Falcon to realize it was somehow lighter down here, and he could see perhaps as well as Crux. It was dim, like twilight, but he could make out the gapped walls on either side of them, and see the distant ceiling high above. It must have been a corridor, in the broadest definition, but because it had been built for the monster, it felt more like an expansive chamber that ran for eternity in either direction.
A furious roar came from behind them.
“It won't be hard for it to catch up,” Crux said. “What it lacks in speed it gains in lengthy strides.”
Falcon didn't bother to nod or reply. He had to conserve energy for running, and breath to stay alive.
They reached an especially deep puddle, but only barely noted it as they splashed through; the water nearly reached Falcon's knees, and he lost a sandal as its ankle-strap broke, but he didn't stop. There wasn't time. Instead, briefly he reached down, still running, and caught his other sandal, ripping it away and tossing it to one side.
“All right?” Crux asked breathlessly.
“Yes,” Falcon answered.
The ground shook beneath them, and Crux gasped as he lost his footing. He scrambled quickly back to his feet before Falcon could stop to help, and they pressed on. Falcon glanced at the demon; Crux's red hair halfway escaped from its binding, long strands whipping out behind him like brilliant threads on a worn flag in the wind. He could just make out the bruises and bloody scrapes along the man's face, and knew he could look no better.
Another ear-splitting roar—this one much closer.
“We can't outrun it,” Crux determined, shouting over their own steps. “Falcon, do you have any sort of weapon?”
“My daggers,” he replied, reaching immediately down and gripping the smooth hilts against his thighs.
“They are something,” Crux said, whipping his left hand out to one side.
As they ran, Falcon watched with fascination from the corner of his eye as the Kirix demon summoned his weapon; few clans could do this, as it took considerable dedication, pain and energy to complete the silent summoning ritual. It seemed to mold from the air around it, long haft turning solid in Crux's hand, metal blade atop the spear intentionally jagged and sharp, yet aesthetically crafted.
“Keep running,” Crux instructed, sweat running down his face, mingling with blood. “We mustn't fight unless we have to.”
Falcon nodded briefly, then his eyes widened and he hissed as he saw the wall ahead of them. “Crux,” he said, pointing as he slowed slightly. “It's a dead end.”
Crux also slowed down, then halted. Falcon followed suit, and they stared at the looming wall that seemed to assure their demise.
“Well, this isn't good,” Crux observed casually, summoned spear in his left hand, standing before the wall as though it were only a small inconvenience. “Crux believes we have chosen the wrong direction.”
Falcon couldn't help it. He laughed. That they would die here, eaten by a giant monster meant to protect a long-dead emperor, with no one aware enough of their location to find them quickly, and the high possibility that the beast would simply swallow them whole, leaving no trace of them to be found...
Somehow, it was funny.
“As if it couldn't get any worse,” Crux said, turning.
Falcon heard the approaching, booming sound of the monster arriving, and he too turned, daggers at the ready. At least I can die fighting, he told himself.
“...Crux shouldn't have said that,” the demon said as it appeared ahead of them.
It was a scaled monster, somewhat resemblant of a dog and a lizard, yet too long for either. It towered at least fifty feet over them, muscles evident through its bulky body. Tufts of fur—or perhaps mold—grew up between scales, here and there. Large black eyes, disturbingly human, stared down at them, while two rows of yard-long yellow teeth grinned at them from a drool-dribbling mouth.
“Notice, Falcon,” Crux said softly. “This one has all of its teeth. Unless it can grow teeth very quickly, there are more than one of these in this place.”
The small flicker of hope that somehow they could defeat this thing and escape faltered, and Falcon nearly gave into his fear. But something inside him refused to give up—the same something that hadn't allowed him to kill himself in Farin Forest, or that hadn't allowed him to run away from Sai. It was that part of him which now gave him the strength to draw his daggers and stand firm.
Crux glanced at him, smiling. “It will be an honor to fight beside you, Falcon.”
“Likewise,” Falcon said, sliding one foot back to brace himself as he raised a dagger before his chest, the second at an angle extended from his body.
The creature didn't roar. It only stood watching them, nearly-human eyes calculating, foul teeth grinning naturally. All at once it swung at them with a front leg, black, razor-sharp claws slashing lightning fast at Crux—the larger target.
The demon was faster than his assailant, and Crux leapt onto the paw as it swiped. He raised his spear and plunged it down into the creature's flesh, just between the scales. Then he jerked the spear out, taking sinew with him, and jumped from the screaming beast, landing beside Falcon and snapping his spear once, blood and sinew flying from its jagged end.
The monster growled angrily, shaking its injured paw briefly, then returned its focus to its intended prey. The growl deepened, turning dark and calculating, rumbling in its throat enough that Falcon thought the ground quivered beneath him.
It stamped a back paw, and from above several rocks and pebbles fell, clattering and rolling across the worn floor.
“Perhaps Crux only made it madder,” the demon observed, sounding amused.
Falcon glanced at him, and for the first time, wondered whether the demon was completely sane. Still, he couldn't help but smile. Perhaps the demon's insanity was contagious. “I wonder how you managed that,” he said sardonically, and Crux chuckled.
“That's the spirit,” the Kirix demon said, raising his spear as the giant animal shifted, arching its spine, lowering the front half of its body toward the ground.
“Listen to what Crux says,” the demon instructed. “Not to say Crux underestimates your abilities, however, we have lost our most useful skills. You may do as instinct directs, but please don't be reckless. If Crux tells you to run, please do so.”
Falcon nodded curtly, serious again. “I understand.”
“Good.”
The monster pounced, hind legs propelling it, and it brought both front paws in from either side, intending to crush the two enemies into one another for a single dead snack instead of two moving targets. It miscalculated, missing Falcon and Crux as they pushed up from the ground, leaping straight into the air, then landing gracefully on either paw. Falcon jammed a dagger into the smelly fur, satisfied when blood trickled forth, then he jammed the other blade into another vulnerable spot. Glancing at the other paw, he saw Crux doing the same, jamming downward, withdrawing, then smoothly repeating the process with deadly accuracy, each movement swift.
It worked for a moment, confusing the beast and causing it to bellow with pain, but the sound quickly shifted to rage and it waved its paws madly, then slammed them into the walls on either side. Falcon tried to disembark, but as the monster moved, its muscles tightened and his daggers were stuck. He tried to release them and jump, but the paw reached the wall first and he fell against it, then slid down until the paw caught him, pushing him forcefully against the wall.
He cried out as the immense force threatened to shattered his bones.
“Falcon!” Crux screamed, then a blur of red appeared before him. Through hazy vision he couldn't tell if it was blood or Crux's hair.
Another enraged bellow from the lumbering beast told Falcon that Crux was working to set him free, and another moment he was falling again, bones and muscles aching from released pressure. He thought he would hit the ground hard, but was caught in Crux's surprisingly strong arms.
I shouldn't be surprised, he thought with wry amusement. Crux is small, and strangely optimistic, but he's still a demon.
“Falcon, speak to Crux.”
Falcon tried, but he only coughed fitfully for his effort.
“Good enough. At least you are alive,” Crux said with relief. “Crux is leaving you here. Stay put.”
But—! Falcon tried to protest, but no sound came out. His breathing was painful, labored. How badly am I hurt? he wondered.

--
Crux left Falcon in a corner near several piles of newly created rubble, where he was mostly hidden from view. It would mean nothing if Crux didn't destroy the monster, because it was only a matter of time before the thing could smell the boy, with as much blood as he was losing. Still, the debris would protect Falcon long enough for Crux to find the monster's weakness.
“Stay there, little one,” he murmured as he raised his spear defensively.
The beast rose to its full height, probably looking down at Crux as though he were a single ant.
“Seems to Crux that we are both a waste of your time,” he called up, not sure and not caring if it understood or not—although a logical monster might be nice for a change. “Isn't there larger prey you could be snacking on? Or are you simply angry because Ehri-shora removed your food source...?” The second option suddenly seemed likely.
“What interests Crux is how you managed to avoid being destroyed by Ehri-shora like the haekiish were. Perhaps you would care to discuss it over tea?”
The beast roared now, probably annoyed that his snack was talking to him.
“Apparently you would not,” Crux concluded with a sigh. “Well, then, is it because this area is separate from the rest of the catacombs? But that wouldn't make sense, since you eat haekiish...” Again he sighed. “Crux supposes this isn't important right now. We can solve that mystery when you are dead. And Crux really must hurry. Falcon is severely injured. —Oh. Where is your toothless friend at, while we're talking? Crux doesn't suppose he's laying in wait until you need him?”
Patience—if it had any—wearing thin, the beast released another deafening roar and pounced again, both front paws savagely tearing up the floor in an attempt to snare the demon. Crux dodged each slash easily, eyes acutely aware of every movement the animal made; aware of every flying stone.  This wasn't an ability that any sort of spell could suppress—it was based solely on centuries of experience.
Sensing that it was being mocked, the monster roared louder still, and Crux only barely kept from cringing as his eardrums throbbed, threatening to burst. Steady now, he told himself.
Now the monster ran its paws wildly along the walls, breaking stone and flinging it downward. Its human eyes shifted from watching Crux's dodging motions, to Falcon's little nook. Crux caught a flash of glee in its disturbing eyes, and he understood immediately what it intended.
Regardless of that knowledge, Crux took the bait, leaping toward Falcon as the rubble rained down from above. He reached him as the debris crashed down, cracking the stone floor. Throwing himself over Falcon desperately, he took the force of the boulders slamming into his body, and he felt the agonizing pain as several of his ribs and his right arm bone snapped under the intense pressure.
He didn't cry out. Pain was no stranger to him, in all its many forms. Still, he hissed, tears collecting in his eyes. He would endure. The boy was worth it.
A sardonic smile touched his lips.
For the first time in a decade, someone was worth dying for.
Better Crux than him, he thought.
But what will he do when he wakes up and we are dead? What will he do in his final moments, but silently weep and then lose himself before the monster eats him. Is that worth dying for?
The second voice brought Crux from the brink of death; kept him from succumbing to that welcome bliss.
He was right. Well, his subconsciousness was.
He could not die now. Not like this. Not when Falcon needed someone, needed them to stay alive, to protect him.
But how can we beat this monster?
You know the answer to that, came the dire reply.
Yes. Crux did know.
The only question you must ask yourself now is, is Falcon really worth it? Is he worth the price?
Crux rose slowly as the last of the rubble settled around him, heavy dust curling in the air. He barely noted the debris that had fallen on his back as he knocked it away, and half-consciously set his arm bone, barely cringing. His violet eyes found Falcon's limp form, so very near to death.
Was Falcon worth it?
He barely knew the boy, had only known him a day, in truth. But time meant little. He was so familiar, like a long-lost friend, like a little brother.
Was he worth it?
Well? the voice demanded.
“Yes,” Crux finally said, closing his eyes.
When he opened them again, they had changed; yellow, vibrant, focused, cold. He stood, pebbles and dust falling from him as he again summoned his spear in his left hand. He stepped over broken boulders and jagged rocks, never glancing at his feet as he moved agilely through the wreckage.
The monster had been watching, waiting for signs of life, and as its black eyes found the demon, still standing, still moving freely, it released another scream; frustration and delight mixed. It had found an enemy worth fighting. No doubt it thought Crux would taste exquisite when he was finally dead.
Unfortunately for the monster, the demon now opposing him was no longer Crux.
A wicked yet cold smile spread across the demon's face as he slid into an offensive stance. “Come,” he invited.

--
Ehrikai rested his pen on the desk's surface as he glanced at the grandfather clock standing against the wall to the left of him.
Lunch was fifteen minutes late. Not that he was especially annoyed by that, but it was unlike Crux to be even one minute late when bringing meals. His promptness had remained in place for the past year. Perhaps it was because he was tending to Kiien, but Ehrikai rather doubted it.
Something must have happened.
With a wave of his hand, he created a window before him, revealing the exact whereabouts of his servant. Startled to find the demon facing off against a giant monstrosity, Ehrikai leaned back and steepled his fingers.
Crux was different. His entire presence had changed drastically.
Ehrikai frowned, but dismissed it for the moment. It could be dealt with later. For now, Ehrikai would watch, only stepping in if he must. Crux could fend for himself.
...Except, wasn't that the young prince, Falcon, in the corner?
With a deep sigh, the Arch Villain stood, waving the window and its pristine view away. Sai wouldn't like the fact that his nephew had become involved and had been injured. He would have to be notified, and the situation would need to be corrected, because both Sai and Falcon were guests in his home.
Besides, Ehrikai was annoyed that a monster was still running loose in his castle. That alone was reason to interfere.

--
It was foul down here, but that wasn't what had Sai annoyed the most.
He stood at the end of the stairwell, red eyes narrowed at the wall standing suspiciously before him. What were the odds that he would take the first set of stairs and end up at a dead end a single yard from the bottom step, after walking for an hour through the darkness?
Mentally cursing, he rapped a hand against the stone, not hard enough to bruise his knuckles, and then pressed his feline ear against the wall, listening to the muted hollow sound as he knocked again.
There had to be a way through; perhaps a hidden door.
Running his hands along the wall, he tried not to imagine what sort of filth was attaching itself to him as he worked. It didn't take long to find a lever, and he pulled it. The ground beneath him dropped, and he with it.
Plummeting through darkness, stale air filling his nostrils, he tried not to lose the milk he had drunk earlier. It wasn't a long fall, and he soon landed on something soft—it was also extremely rank, and definitely breathing.
His luck had always been terrible, but this took it to new heights.

--
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