It sounded like a well thought-out cooperation. A fact that was corroborated when Vir emerged through the maze of tunnels, leading to a ladder that led back up to the surface. Right into the castle’s Acira berths.
Vir wasn’t sure which was more impressive—the sight of twenty Acira lined up in a perfect square grid, their black wings glinting off the moonlight—or the squads of demons beside them, all dressed in identical black robes.
This was a military might the likes of which Vir had never seen from Hiranya. Only the Altani’s skyships had invoked such a sense of professionalism and power within him.
The training and upkeep costs, the fact that most of the warriors wielded seric weapons… It spoke not only to the depth of the Pagan Order’s treasury, but to the high degree of competence with which it was run.
Projecting such a force well away from their own borders could not come easily.
They’re elites. They’ve done this before. Many times.
Vir immediately understood that despite their lack of prana, these warriors were not to be underestimated. All boasted Talents, and their prana-starved bodies made their abilities more potent, drawing a stronger suction from the prana in the earth.
As Vir scanned the disguised faces of his brothers and sisters, he saw neither fear nor excitement. Only cool, composed determination to complete the mission and bring everyone home. This was a group of veterans. Like him, each wore face paint, sporting the tan shades of the Kin’jals, and unless Vir knew they were demons, he’d never have guessed.
It was a secret force that the world knew nothing about. A force that wasn’t supposed to exist.
Vir swelled with pride as he nodded to each in turn.
“You must be our guest of honor. We’ll be counting on you this night,” a demon said, grasping his forearm in what Vir had learned was a kind of ‘demonic handshake.’ “Fare well, brother.”
“And you,” Vir replied, genuinely wishing the man well, despite never having met him before.
He’d known the Order for only a handful of days, and yet he already felt more at ease than he ever had around Tia and Spear’s Edge. Because, though they all wore disguises, these were his people. Individuals who recognized him and accepted him for who he truly was.
Vir boarded an Acira with Badal at the head of the flight. Their pilot shot his finger up into the air, and without even a word between the squads, they took to the sky, ripping the silent air with the beating of scaled wings.
The dust swirled around them, as the Acira built more and more force. Then they lurched into the air, clearing the tall castle walls in seconds.
Aciras took off one by one, with each avian creature slotting seamlessly into its position. Before long, they’d organized into a V shape formation, tearing across Balindam as they climbed ever higher.
Each aerial turn was executed in perfect synchronization as if performed by master acrobats.
The night wind swept past their faces, and before long, they’d crossed the South Legion Mountains, flying over Ranian airspace. It made Vir wonder whether Rani knew of the Order’s operations. He figured they must know, and that they were implicitly alright with it. He guessed the Order ran these sorts of raids regularly.
The Acira flew at less than their maximum capacity, and as such, required fewer breaks than they would on the way back. As the minutes turned into hours and Rani’s lush valleys and forests fell away beneath them, a feeling grew within Vir.
I could see myself among their ranks, he thought. What if he joined the Order? Working with them to build a home for demons. I might be able to make a real difference here…
It was a thought he’d had several times over the past day. Though regardless of what came after, he had to survive this mission first. Not just survive—he had to bring those demons home.
Badal had briefed him earlier on the layout of the place, since conversation in-flight was difficult with all the wind. The prisoners were kept in a structure built like a castle, out in the middle of the Kin’jal countryside within the Eternal Plains.
While all the demons on this raid wielded Talents, Vir doubted any would be more effective than him within the complex. It was a strong reason why he’d volunteered to join them.
He’d Dance inside, breaking prisoner shackles and cutting down jail doors, assisting the other demons as they filtered through the compound.
At least, that was how it was supposed to go. Vir knew from experience that these plans rarely ever went as expected.
“See those mountains?” Badal shouted, pointing to the snowcapped peaks that blurred beneath them. “The Bulwarks. We just crossed into Kin’jal territory. Five minutes until we descend!”
Vir took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
43A CLASH OF RED & GOLD
Maiya descended upon Kin’jal Garrison Nihira at dusk, anxious about what was to come.
Princess Ira had seemed innocent enough at first, with her teddy bear collection and pink room. Someone with a soft spot for such cute things couldn’t possibly be a monster underneath, could she?
As it turned out, Maiya had been very, very wrong. Ira was pure evil. An Ash Beast in disguise, capable of heaping such a monstrous workload upon Maiya’s back that her spine had nearly failed her.
The princess had Maiya running around the whole country, overseeing her personal operations, silencing her opponents—usually via stern threats and shows of force—and there seemed to be no end in sight.
As her latest punishment, Maiya had been saddled with the unsavory task of breaking Matali’s back. Or rather, asserting Ira’s influence in Matali for what was part of some grand scheme to get the country to recognize the princess’ power before she extended an olive branch, winning the country over to her—and her alone.
It sounded unlikely, but it wasn’t Maiya’s duty to question. This time around, her job was to play the villain, and she hated it. Absolutely loathed it. But she could act out the part if she had to. She was even good at it.
Maiya slowly spiraled down, enjoying the cool arid air while she observed Garrison Nihira’s fortifications. As far as Kin’jali outposts went, it was bog standard. Which was to say—disgustingly overbuilt. More a citadel fortress than a simple jail, there was no rhyme or reason behind its design. Other than projecting Kin’jal’s singular obsession with strength, of course.
It’s all such a farce, too, Maiya thought, descending into the left of the two Acira hangars—the one for visitors. It wasn’t empty. Another black-scaled beast lazed on the grass, and Maiya couldn’t take her eyes off it. If she hadn’t been expecting visitors, she’d have been surprised—even in a nation as wealthy as Kin’jal, precious few owned one. The garrison had three in a separate hanger for aerial defense, though most countries would consider that lavish for an outpost such as this.
“Alright, Frumpy. Easy does it, yeah?” she said, more to soothe herself than anything else.
He’s gonna be here! I finally get to see him!
After her fruitless visit to Zorin, which ended up being a waste of time as Vir had already moved on, she’d resorted to using something a bit more reliable. Especially since the woman at that branch had been quite unhelpful in giving her information about his whereabouts.
Through Kin’jal’s vast intelligence network—because the Brotherhood told her nothing—she’d learned of a certain Apramor who’d signed on with the mercenary group called Spear’s Edge. While she knew Vir was operating under that alias, it was a common name so she couldn’t automatically assume it was him. Still, a mercenary operating in the same general area as Vir bearing the same name gave her a hint. The fact that he used a katar and chakrams all but confirmed it. She did wonder how Vir ended up in a runaway princess’ mercenary party, but she wasn’t about to question her good fortune.