The trek continued, much to their chagrin. The clouds loomed over them, a flat, gloom settling over the land. Craters and bodies, and rivers of blood were the sore sights of the journey.

  Vorza in all his grizzled self, lectured Kasar about the bodies, and of the monsters they’d been ravaged by. Kasar noted these down, and he would write them if he knew how to. While on the run, his parent.

  Vorza had such a well of knowledge, about monsters, wars, and magic.

  He continued his lectures for another few hours, until by midday they decided to camp out on a hill.

  As they continued eastward, Vorza pointed toward a mass of craters. “What do you think?”

  Kasar scanned the area and began to formulate a story. “Bodies, craters, and sodden land.” He turned and spotted that the tracks that had caused the land beneath them to flatten and unearth consisted of a pattern. This pattern told a story as well. “Two armies converged here. Valkenian.” Kasar kneeled and touched the ground. “This isn’t where fighting happened. They just marched. Up ahead, where the craters are: that’s where it happened.”

  Vorza grunted in agreement. “Is that all of the story?”

  “No,” said Kasar. “Only Warvalean soldiers lie dead there. The craters were caused by Valkenian mages.”

  “So?” asked Vorza. “Elaborate.”

  “Valkenia saw the Warvalean army approaching, and they had the ranged advantage. They fired off, and won from spell volleys.”

  Vorza took a deep breath in. “Magic. The air is rank with it.”

  Kasar followed suit and nodded, though he knew his senses were fainter than his mentor’s. Dancing Devils were trained to detect magic being casted, but also magical residue. Something about human instinct recognizing the inherent wrongness of magic as a whole. The Devils believed that the world had become so used to the effects, they couldn’t use their senses to detect it as well as Devils who had trained for it in their formative years.

  “Well, with mages like these, it’s understandable why the Valks are winning.”

  “Don’t the Warvaleans have mages?” asked Kasar.

  “They probably do, but the Valks seem have more mages, and their soldiers are more militarized. Someone must be supplying them with Runes as well.” Runes were little stones that were manufactured by Runesmiths: they held a portion of the powers of the three Chromas. Red, Blue, and Green.

  “Vrodia?” asked Kasar.

  “My country loves to profit off these wars. Aye, it’s probably them.” He didn’t sound as proud as he usually did, but nor did he resent the war profiteering.

  Kasar didn’t argue back.

  Kasar and Vorza continued forth through the graveyard of warriors.

  ****

  “There’s a village!” cried Kasar. “Finally. I thought this place would have nothing!”

  “Lad, it’s probably occupied or burnt.”

  “Those fires don’t seem like destruction.”

  “No, but to me it seems like a funeral pyre.”

  “Oh.”

  “We should move in closer and see. We’re neutral, and the Valks might have some work for us.”

  Kasar grabbed his mentor’s arm and pulled him so the two could meet eye to eye. “Vorza. I will not kill the Warvaleans.”

  Vorza held his student’s gaze for several long moments. Finally, he cleared his throat and nodded. “Don’t tell them that.”

  Kasar shook his head. “I won’t.”

  “And keep your mouth shut in general, lad. We ask for work, we do our work, we buy our supplies, and we set off.”

  “Got it.”

  “Good.”

  The village indeed had been occupied by the Valkenian soldiers. The soldiers looked haggard but not as much as the surviving villagers. They wore rags soaked in dried blood, and many bore wounds lashed across their faces. Children clung to their mother’s ankles, and father’s hands, as the Valkenians herded them toward the village center.

  “We should not enter,” said Vorza.

  “Why?” asked Kasar, the sight of sorrow piqued his curiosity, and ignited a certain fire in his belly. “What are they doing?”

  “Lad, stop, now,” barked Vorza, but the young man flashed him a defiant gaze before venturing further.

  Vorza spat forth a Vrodian curse under his breath and followed after. “Follow him into a warzone, and now follow him into death.”

  Kasar and Vorza strode into the camp, and gave the soldiers a nod.

  Two stood behind the pair, and three in front. Kasar and Vorza could see their flanks were also covered.

  “Greetings,” said Vorza, waving. “We’re sellswords looking for work.”

  “What kind of work?” asked the Valkenian soldier, his olive skin sullied by dirt and dried blood.

  “Any that the Valkenians would offer, sire.” Kasar noted the difference in honorific title. Sire.

  The soldier grunted and pointed a finger at them to wait. He left to speak with someone inside one of the makeshift garrisons. Kasar soaked in the village while he had the time. Warvalean villages seemed made for only one purpose: feed the cities.

  More stone crafted military quarters dotted this village than any Kasar had seen even in the desert city. Around the main structures comprising the village were scattered clusters of tightly packed homes surrounded by large swaths of farms and irrigation systems that bled water into other fields. The living conditions seemed worse than sleeping on hard rock, and Kasar had done only that for the past three weeks or so. The fighting pits seemed more appealing.

  These people live and breathe for war. Now they died in it. To what avail?

  The soldier came back and nodded to the two Devils. “General Valiki will see you once today’s work is done.”

  “What kind of work?” asked Kasar.

  The soldier narrowed his eyes at Kasar’s snapping tone.

  Kasar added “Sire,” enthusiastically at the end.

  Vorza almost groaned.

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  “The flaying of the heretics.”

  “The… heretics?” asked Kasar.

  “These villagers opposed us even when the General offered mercy.”

  “So you’re going to flay them?” growled Kasar.

  “Stay your tongue before you lose it, welp,” said the soldier. “The General is far more merciful than the others that serve under Lord Torvic.”

  “I don’t care,” said Kasar. “You’re flaying defenseless people.”

  “Defenseless,” scoffed the soldier. “They will attack our countrymen if we let them live.”

  “So you flay them?”

  “It is the law. General Valiki opposes it only mildly by giving them the chance to surrender and join his ranks. Lord Torvic decreed that all Warvaleans must be purified if they resist at first. This is as good as divine word for us, but we respect General Valiki as well who has been given special privileges. You would do well to appreciate his tolerance and mercy.”

  Kasar felt that fire he noticed before suddenly burning bright. “That is evil.”

  The soldier raised his hand for a strike, but Kasar jumped back before he could. Swords slithered out from all the soldiers, and a flurry of yelps echoed from behind where the terrified villagers saw signs of a fight.

  Kasar’s own saber flashed out, and Vorza’s beside him.

  “Lad, you just don’t know when to keep your mouth shut,” said Vorza. “Let me talk to them.”

  “You have overstepped,” said the soldier.

  “Hold on, Valkenian,” said Vorza. “He has, but I have not. Let me speak in peace.”

  The soldier narrowed his eyes. “General Valiki will speak to you after the flaying.”

  “You’re flaying the children as well?” roared Kasar, stepping forward.

  The rest of the soldiers closed in further as well, but Vorza roared, “shut it, lad!”

  Kasar obeyed, only for a fraction. “You’re not changing my mind on this,” growled Kasar. “You’re evil. That’s that.”

  “And you are lucky, General Valiki is in charge,” said the soldier, his guard still raised. “If he were any other general in Lord Torvic’s army, he’d have you right there with the rest to be flayed.”

  “If he was honorable, he would sentence that right here, and right now.”

  “Boy!” cried Vorza. “Stop this.”

  The soldier was going to say something, mouth curled into a snarl, but a flurry of gasps and whispers from behind him halted him in his tracks. He turned around and saw that the other soldiers had parted to let a man walk into the open. He bore a saber like Kasar and Vorza at his hip, and his olive tone face bore a hawkish quality to them. His eyes looked sharper than his blade, and they plunged into the two Devils before him. One youthful, arrogant, unkempt, and angry. The other old, and frustrated.

  His eyes widened when he saw their sabers, and his hand seemed to instinctively touch his own.

  “Devils?” he asked.

  Vorza and Kasar shared a glance. “Aye,” said Vorza.

  Valiki gave a curt nod, and a short bow. “As am I. So few of us left these days.”

  “You walk the Path?” asked Kasar.

  “I follow the Path where I can. But my allegiance lies with Lord Torvic.”

  “You’re seriously going to flay these people? The children too?”

  Valiki’s face contorted with pain. His soldiers now seemed to display their sorrow as well. “It is commanded by our Lord.”

  “It’s wrong,” said Kasar. “And you know it.”

  “It’s the law.”

  “Devils are above it.”

  Valiki’s face flashed with anger. “And that is why they call us Devils. We were not always called that.”

  “It’s our Path to shatter the shackles that bind us,” said Kasar, quoting his father, quoting his mentor, and quoting what every Devil knew. Or should have known. And should be living every day.

  Valiki knew it too once, as his eyes bore that sorrow still, and he slowly nodded. “I agree, but my loyalty lies to Lord Torvic first. He allows me special privileges to practice the Path. But these villagers had their chance.”

  The young Devil’s gaze fell upon the fearful villagers, being herded like animals to where an agonizing death awaited them. “Why the torture?”

  Valiki sighed and rubbed his brow. “As I said. The Lord commanded it.”

  “He isn’t here.”

  “These men are loyal to him as well.”

  “They said they’re loyal to you.”

  “I act within the bounds of my Lord and so do they, and so they are loyal to me as long as I do not override the Lord.”

  “Complicated bull dung. I say you’re a coward to stand for the Path.”

  Valiki’s eyes grew cold and narrow now, and his men bristled at Kasar’s words.

  Vorza tried to stop Kasar, but the young Devil strode up and glared Valiki in the eyes. “I challenge you to a duel. On a Devil’s Honor.” An old tradition his mother taught him.

  Valiki’s eyes remained still as death upon the youth before him. “Terms?”

  “If I win, these villagers are to be left alone. If you win, you can do what you wish upon me, and tell your stupid Lord that I am to blame for their actions. Place their punishment upon me and only me.”

  Valiki’s eyes widened. “You would take the purification of so many?”

  “No, I won’t,” said. “No one will.”

  Vorza sounded like he’d been strangled. “Boy, you are-”

  “Following the Devil’s Path,” snapped Kasar, peering over his shoulder.

  “Are you insane? He is a trained Devil.”

  “Oh, come on, Vorza,” said Kasar, turning around. “Forgot the pits? The ring? The uprising?”

  Valiki’s brow rose in curiosity.

  “You had help. And you got lucky,” Vorza said.

  Kasar stepped to Vorza and the two stared for a long while. Vorza searched for where that insanity lay in the boy so he could extract it and be on their merry way. Kasar simply glared and remained stalwart and unyielding.

  “This is what Devils do,” said Kasar.

  “This is how the Devils died.”

  “Everyone needs to do their part for it to come back. Once they stop, they are no longer for the Path.”

  “You go down this path, you end up dead, boy, understand?”

  “It’s my choice. And it’s a choice that a Devil would make.”

  “You’re going to die,” spat Vorza. “For what? These warmongering villagers? What will you change?”

  Kasar’s eyes narrowed. “If I stop following this Path it will be one Devil dead already.”

  “And if you follow it, you won’t live to fight another day.”

  “I find people say that every fight. ”

  “Because it’s unrealistic, boy. It’s an idealistic concept. Shatter the shackles?” he scoffed. “You follow these principles of good, and you’ll just die like the rest. What does it matter? We’re free now anyways!”

  “Every copper counts,” said Kasar. “Even if the world doesn’t fight for the Path, I will. And I will do it well.”

  “The arrogance of youth,” roared Vorza. Kasar did not sway his gaze. “Do you accept?” He glared at Kasar, but Vorza’s words were to the General.

  “I do,” said Valiki.

  “Then boy,” said Vorza. “You better start preparing.”

  “We will reconvene in the center once it's been cleared for the fight. You may prepare for six hours. As will I.” he nodded to his soldiers who began herding the villagers away from the center, and clearing out the area.

  Vorza and Kasar did not stop staring.

  “You need to learn to keep your mouth shut,” said Vorza.

  “No,” said Kasar, a curve forming on his lips. The fire felt like a storm in his belly, but now fear sank into his system as the adrenaline wore off. What have I done?

  “Do you know what it’s like to be flayed?” asked Vorza.

  “Do you?” asked Kasar.

  Vorza gave him a cold and dry scoff, turning around. “Foolish whelp,” he grunted.

  Kasar now faltered, his eyes dropping, his heart sinking, and the fire extinguished inside of him.

  Vorza swore under his breath and clasped the young Devil by his shoulders. “We are going to strategize. We are going to have you win this. Understand?”

  Kasar nodded, lips quivering. “Oh no.” His heart felt like it would rip from his chest.

  “No, you shut it. No shred of loss in your mind, okay? You got in this like a Devil, you fight like a Devil to get out. Come on. You have to warm up your blade. You haven’t had a chance to swing it in a while.”

  “We trained, though. Everyday.”

  “Now you must train for a duel against another Devil.”