Scratch My Back

The soft glow of Merridian in the night washed all in the caravan with a wave of relief. The end was in sight. It was unlikely that the demons would be so bold as to assail them on their own doorstep. Then again, it had been a day for demonic daring, so no one was letting their guard all the way down.

Zaida still ferried Yorresie as easily as one might do with a bag of apples. Neither had said a word to the other on the trek, beyond those strictly necessary. Despite her outward appearances, the demon-in-hiding was very unsettled by the situation. Yorresie knew her secret and had not shared it with anyone yet; that she knew of, anyway. But why? She had to assume that the nun had seen her in action, meaning she would know what Zaida was capable of. That being the case, it would have been illogical to antagonise the demon while every other combatant in the caravan was in need of a trip to the infirmary. It then followed that Yorresie was simply waiting to be back among the plentiful and hale knights in Merridian before siccing their wrath upon her.

Would she do that though?

Zaida looked at the woman on her shoulder with all the subtlety she could afford. She was at a total loss on what was, and what was not to be expected from this nun. On the one hand, she had come to understand that those who called themselves servants of Geod prided themselves on traits such as compassion, empathy, selflessness, and such. On the other hand, Zaida herself was a demon; one of those counted as the mortal and eternal enemies of Yorresie's order and all they stood for. If there was anyone exempt from their graces, it was Zaida, and everyone else who had served the Demon Lord. It could prove naïve to dismiss her as a threat.

All this was to say she needed a contingency. If she stepped through the gates to the town and Yorresie revealed herself to be treacherous, it would not do to simply throw up her hands and say 'I've been played for a fool'. There was a chance she could fight her way out - the day had certainly proved that not all the knights lived up to their reputation. That was still a gamble though.

There was also the safe option: to simply run away there and then. She could drop Yorresie atop someone else in a wagon and disappear into the night; no one could stop her. However, that would leave her back where she started; without a home and without anyone she could trust. But perhaps it would not be as difficult as she made it out to be. After all, she had practically stumbled into Merridian to begin with. With her human disguise, she could rather easily walk into another human settlement and give the whole 'mercenary' bit again. She had only grown more knowledgeable in the art of blending in since defecting.

But... the demons...

If she were to leave, there would be no one to oppose whatever plot the Demon Lord had unfolding in Merridian. Only a handful of people besides herself had been made aware of the others lurking among the humans, and they either did not believe her, or seemed to care too little to get anything done without her.

But why should she have cared? Just because she had gone against the Demon Lord did not mean she had to defend the humans to her last breath. Saving the caravan that day had already been more than she owed them. Humans were just another faction clinging to their place in the world. If they wanted to keep it, then it was on them to prove capable of doing so.

A tap on the arm that was not supporting Yorresie drew Zaida's attention. It was one of her fellow knights, Migdalia. "Psst, you didn't hear it from me, but there may or may not be plans to throw a dinner in your honour."

"Why?"

Migdalia snorted in amused surprise. "Why? Because you singlehandedly saved the whole bloody train today, that's why. You're a damned heroine."

"No I'm not," Zaida answered flatly.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Queen of Humility." Migdalia gave an exceptionally deep bow and slowed to allow Zaida to pull ahead.

From there they were only a few paces shy of Merridian's gates. Recognising the returning party, those posted at the entrance admitted them back into the city. Sentries rushed to receive them at the signs of their poor condition.

"What happened?" the leader asked Marama.

"Demons jumped us in broad daylight just a few hours in," the sergeant rasped. "No fatalities, but everyone here needs to see a healer. Is Dyna available? I have something very important I need to speak privately with her about."

The leader picked one of the sentries and sent them ahead to let the captain know Marama was coming. He then caught the sergeant before he could take off in the same direction. "You were attacked, but you came out of it with no fatalities?" he asked incredulously. "How'd you manage that?"

Marama tilted his head back to show off the sutures on his throat. "You tell me."

"Barbs and bollocks! Is that as deep as it looks?"

The sergeant relaxed his head. "Probably deeper."

The head of the sentries was left speechless, freeing Marama to carry on toward the knights' barracks.

"You can put me down now," Yorresie informed the other woman.

"Right," Zaida answered. She moved to a cluster of other church folk and did her best to dismount the nun without agitating her leg. With much tension, she gave acknowledging nods to the lot of them as they fussed over their wounded sister. Her suspense wound tighter as she watched them help Yorresie toward a place where she could be tended to more thoroughly than had been possible out on the road. She waited for something to go wrong; for Yorresie to say something to those helping her along, for that person to cast a look back at her, then wave for other knights to seize her.

When a hand closed around her arm she jumped, winding up a fist instinctively.

"Easy, you jittery git!" Markil scolded her. "You strike me and you'll lose the hand!"

"What do you wa-" Zaida's words caught in her throat as she dry heaved. The smell coming off the royal knight was intensely and sickeningly sweet. For her nose, it was all too much. "Why do you smell like a rotting mountain of bouquets?"

Markil cast a glance to make sure no one was within earshot before growling in a low voice. "Because I've spent the day swimming through the absurd and nonsensical rubbish that the plebeians here peddle, searching for something to provide a solution to our... shared plight." He plucked a petal of some sort of plant from his chain mail and flicked it clear. "To no avail - in case that wasn't clear. So if you're still interested in weeding out those treacherous knobs, you'd better have something for me."

Zaida rolled her eyes. Markil quite possibly her least favourite human, but like it or not, he was her only real means of preserving this town. She took a deep breath. "I've been thinking, and I might just have something." She waved for him to follow her to somewhere away from prying eyes and ears.

Marama arrived at Dyna's quarters as a small group of what were presumably her companions darted past him in various stages of half-dress. The sentry that had been sent ahead from the gates stood outside the captain's door and saluted him as he approached.

"Is she ready?" the sergeant asked him.

The sentry turned and knocked loudly on the door. Approval to enter sounded from within. The sentry opened the door for Marama and he stepped inside.

Captain Dyna was seated on the edge of her bed, pulling on her boots. More than a few of her clothes were not on entirely straight. Sergeant Puhipi paid no mind to the assorted trinkets and implements littering the bed and surrounding floor.

"Evening, Marama," the small woman greeted. "You know how I feel about business handled this late in the day, so I trust that this is important."

"Of course, ma'am." His tone did not share the subtle, jovial warmth that hers held.

She looked up and found that his face did not display his typical demeanour of friendliness and ease. This observation sobered her somewhat. She cleared her throat. "What is it, Marama? You're not supposed to be back for four or five days yet." It was then that she noticed the red on his neck.

"Yes, ma'am. We didn't make it. We were assailed by demons just a short ways out."

Dyna rose to her feet, the last of her placidity leaving her. "How many did we lose?" She was very aware of how new some of the knights in the escort were.

"None."

Dyna visibly relaxed at this. "So it wasn't anything too serious then?"

"No," Marama shook his head. "It was very serious. Had the wretches been rain, they could have drowned us." It was then that he leaned his head back to allow the captain a better look at his throat in the lamplight.

Her features twisted in concern and confusion. "I... don't understand. You say that there were too many of them, but that you did not lose anyone... What am I missing?"

Marama moved closer and reached into his pocket. Out of it he drew a torn patch of burlap. Burned into it was the same symbol that had marked the monsters that attacked them. He held it out for Dyna to take and examine.

"One of my troops tells me that's something called an 'infirmity hex' or an 'impotence hex' or something. Point is, after the scuffle, we found those on each and every one of the demons that came at us; the same demons that skewered and bludgeoned every one of the people I was supposed to protect. But every one of those people walked back through Merridian's gates tonight."

Dyna looked up from the mark she held, meeting the sergeant's gaze.

"What does this mean, Captain?"

She looked back to the marked scrap in her hands. She ran her fingers over it, taking a moment before answering. "I don't know."

"... How do you want to proceed with this? Do you want to keep things quiet?"

Dyna shook her head. "No point. People will talk, and we've got no reason to think any trouble will come of it. Hell, maybe they'll even get an answer for us."

"That is your plan?" Markil scrutinized. His tone did not convey disbelief so much as it did repugnance that the idea had even been put forth. "Do you have anyone at your disposal that can provide so many enchantments?"

"No," Zaida admitted, "but there's no shortage of magic-wielders in the city. Surely we can find someone willing to help." Her fingers were still pinched over her nose in hopes of escaping the fetor wafting off the man. They had relocated to some unlocked storage shed seeking privacy, but the absence of open air was doing no favours for her nostrils.

"Yeah? Let's say that we find someone and the magic isn't the problem. Let's say we make it that far with your plan. What then, hm? You think the timing is going to work? Remember, we're looking to expose the traitors here," the royal knight emphasised. "With your plan, not only will they be scattered and unsynchronised, but there will also be no one around to catch them. What good does that do us? They see that something is up, and they rectify the situation before anything can come of it."

Zaida preferred not to admit it out loud, but Markil made a good point. "As I said, it's not a final plan. There's room for changes and improvements."

"Oh, for fu..." Markil threw up a hand in exasperation and paced away from Zaida. She could see him thinking things over before turning back toward her. "We'll go along with your sorry excuse for a plan for now. I know someone who might be able to cover the magic part of this. In the meantime, work on plugging those gaping wholes."

"Will do," Zaida agreed, her teeth unclenching just long enough to get the words out.