Chapter 4

My head was pounding again. I opened my eyes to absolute darkness, and in that moment my foggy brain considered that so many recent knocks to the head had finally taken their toll. It took a sudden jolt for me to realize I was in motion; laying on my back, being pulled or pushed along on something with wheels, and that a bag had been put over my head.

The ground underneath was rocky and uneven, the air heavy and hot, and there were voices all around me. The demons. They had knocked me out and were taking me somewhere. I tried to squirm, to wriggle, but my hands and feet were tied up—as were my wings. I wasn't going anywhere on my own power.

Even my Light, what little of it was left, wasn't going to help me here.

"I think it's woken up," came the high-pitched squeal of the demon I had come to know as Skrix.

"It's definitely wriggling," said Gharol. "Maybe Okaras didn't smash it hard enough."

"Quiet," came Azaroth's voice, low and deep. "It's tied up. Even if it did get out it has nowhere to run to." I heard a thud and the cart I was on rattled—one of them must have kicked it.

Gharol chuckled, his voice like the crunching and twisting of metal. "It wouldn't last a minute out there, with the hellhounds and the harpies."

"Not to mention the Hellions," Skrix put in. "They'd love a chance to have a go at an angel, wouldn't they?"

"Especially one that can actually fly," added Gharol.

I couldn't take hearing their ridiculous conversation any longer. "If you're trying to scare me, it isn't working." I said, though my words were a little muffled by the bag.

Someone slammed me across the shoulder with what felt like a club. I was lucky I was still wearing armor, otherwise that could've hurt. "No one said you could speak!" hissed Skrix. He then hit me again. "Keep that trap shut."

"Now, Skrix," said Azaroth. "That is no way to treat the merchandise."

"One of us's gotta keep it in line, and I don't see Okaras stepping up to do it." He said the other demon's name more forcefully, as if he was further away.

"If you damage it, I will make sure the Overlord knows it was you."

The threat seemed to be enough to quiet Skrix, albeit reluctantly. In all this time I had managed to just about wriggle my fingers, and that was it. There was no getting out of the bindings keeping my arms and legs together, no way for me to free myself. The only thing I could think to do was talk, especially now that clubbing me had been taken off the table.

"You don't have to do this," I said.

In truth, I wasn't exactly sure what they were doing. Taking me somewhere, sure—to some city, they had said. But where that city was, or for what purpose I was being taken there, I didn't know. The most I had managed to glean was that I was considered merchandise, and my Light was possibly a valuable, rare, commodity.

I didn't want to think about what they'd do to me when that Light ran out.

"Is that your play, angel?" asked Azaroth. "Plead with us?"

"I won't beg," I replied.

"You know, Pride is a sin. Normally I would encourage sinning, but I need to keep you as fresh as possible. You'll fetch a much higher price that way."

"And what do you think you'll get by selling me off? What's so different about any other Pit angel and me?"

"Light, as I'm sure you've noticed, is not something we have access to down here. And most of the Pit arrivals are already tapped out by the time they dig their way through. You seem to have held on to yours, so, I find someone interested in paying a high price for you, they get your Light, and I get my own castle and a legion of subordinates. What else could a demon want?"

"Are you the only one who benefits from this sale, or do Gharol and Skrix also get castles?"

My words were met with silence filled only by the gentle rolling of what sounded like thunder overhead. I took that silence to mean that what I had just said had struck a cord.

"It's got a point," grumbled Gharol, after the tension-filled moment. "I want a castle and a legion too."

"Overlords get legions," said Azaroth. "Ravagers get to kill with impunity. Stick to what you are good at."

"You don't let me do that either!"

"What about Corruptors, then?" Interrupted Skrix. "Do we get castles?"

"No, you do not get castles." Azaroth sighed, cleared agitated by the turn of conversation. "Neither of you get castles, and neither of you get legions! What would you even do with a legion?" asked Azaroth.

"I dunno. I'm smart. I'd figure it out," replied Skrix

"Yes," I said, "You are smart. So smart! Don't let him tell you otherwise."

"See?" asked Skrix. "It thinks I'm smart."

"An angel—and captive who wants to escape—says you are smart," said Azaroth, lowering his tone. "Perhaps you're not as intelligent as you think."

"Are you using big words to confuse us again?" asked Gharol, "Because that worked last time, but it's not going to work now."

"Look, you're all making a huge mistake," I said. "If you go and sell me off to some other demon, what's to stop them from making me destroy all of you with my Light?"

"I know you don't possess enough Light in you to do that," said Azaroth. "I don't know why you're here, or why you fell into the Pit wearing armor, but I know you can't destroy us. You would have already."

"Okay, then in that case, your estimation of my value is totally wrong."

"What does it mean?" asked Skrix. "What do you mean, angel?"

"Well… I'm either strong enough to destroy all of you with my Light, in which case I'm incredibly powerful and valuable like Azaroth says… or I couldn't hurt you if I tried. If that's true, then I'm worth nothing. I can't be both. If I had the power to destroy you all, wouldn't I have done that already?"

The cart I was being moved on suddenly stopped. "It's got a point!" hissed Skrix. "It hurt us, but it didn't kill us. What if it's worth nothing?"

"What if we get laughed out of the city for bringing them a worthless trinket?" asked Gharol.

"Light or no Light," said Azaroth, "This creature will still be entertaining to watch in the arenas. It will fight for its life. It will fight like no demon ever could. That alone will be worth a prize fit for an Overlord."

"And will you share those prizes with us?" asked Skrix. "Or will you keep them all for yourself and only throw us the scraps?"

"If you continue to doubt me, you'll get nothing. Is that understood?"

It's working, I thought. If there was one thing I could count on when it came to demons; they were all opportunists, and any loyalty they had towards each other was purely based on fear and control. Azaroth was clearly their leader, but if he couldn't control them then they were likely to turn on him. If they could be made to turn on him, then maybe I had a shot at getting out of this.

All I had to do was keep them talking.

"Wait," Gharol said suddenly. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked Skrix.

"That. Listen."

I couldn't hear anything. I certainly couldn't hear whatever had caught this demon's attention.

"You can barely hear anything at the best of times, Gharol," said Azaroth. "Those metal plates around your ears do that sense a disservice."

"I'm telling you, I heard something."

"Like what?" asked Skrix. "Hang on—over there!"

I heard the ringing of blades, of steel being drawn. "The rebels have found us," came a fourth voice that sounded almost like a whisper on the wind. Was that the demon who had knocked me out? Okaras.

"Take your positions!" barked Azaroth. "Ready your weapons."

"I saw one!" Yelled Skrix. "Wait, no, where'd they go?!"

"It sounds like they're all around us!" roared Gharol.

"Hold your positions," Azaroth demanded, "And close your ranks!"

It sounded like they were all shuffling around me. I heard the scraping of boots on rough ground, the rush of wind, and a faint whispering somewhere nearby. Gharol still couldn't see whatever Skrix had seen, and no one could hear what he was hearing. It was chaos, and I was still tied up and not going anywhere.

The rebels have found us.

Rebels?

What rebels?

"There, over the rocks!" yelled Skrix. There was a shout, a thud, and then the clashing of blades. I heard grunting, yelling, and shuffling.

Some kind of battle was clearly unfolding around me, and I couldn't see or do anything about it. I tried to struggle out of my bindings, but it was no use. At one point, someone toppled over my cart, knocking it onto its side.

I fell to the floor with a thud, and while I still couldn't move or get out of my bindings, I thought I may have been able to start lifting the bag I had over my head by scraping the side of my face against the ground. It was hard and uncomfortable work, but it was working.

All the while I was hearing yelling, grunting, and the metal ring of blades. Lightning crackled, but it didn't seem to come from above—it sounded like it was right near my head, and it brought with it an acrid scent that assaulted my nostrils.

It was hard to concentrate on what I was doing with the constant threat of injury looming over me, but I worked at the bag over my head until I managed to get it up and over my nose, allowing me to just about catch a glimpse of the combat if I angled my head just right.

Whoever had attacked Azaroth and the others hadn't identified themselves, they hadn't made demands, and they weren't taking this lightly. They were armed, motivated, and it looked to me like there were more of them than there were of the demons who had initially captured me.

I was about to get the bag up past my eyes when I felt someone's hand on my shoulders. They spun me around so I was face down in the dirt, undoing all the work I had just done. I was about to protest when that person spoke right next to my ear.

"Don't move," came the new voice. "I'm going to undo your bindings, and you're going to come with us."

"Who are you?!" I said, "I'm not going with anyone."

"You either come with us, or you take your chances with these monsters."

Whoever this was, they took the time to slide a blade into the gap between my hands and cut the bindings holding my wrists together. Another moment or so, and they'd cut the wraps around my wings and feet, freeing all of my limbs.

I wasted no time taking the bag off my head and tossing it aside.

The demon I saw looming over me had skin the color of a bruised plum, sharpened canines, and eyes that burned with an emerald fire. He also had thick horns that ran up and along their skull; white horns that ended in reddish peaks.

I had questions.

So many questions.

But my burning desire to get away from Azaroth and his band of idiots was greater than my need to ask those questions and get answers. I picked myself up off the floor, took a moment to gather myself, and started to run after the demon who had just freed me.

He had wings that at one point looked like they had been feathery, but those feathers had started to mottle and fall off long ago. Still, this demon was more than capable of using those wings to take flight.

"Azaroth!" yelled Skrix, "It's getting away, look!"

Glancing around my shoulder, I watched Azaroth—a knife in one hand, a whip in the other—turn to face me. He pulled back his whip-arm just as I started to run. I heard it crack in my direction, but I was fast enough to duck and roll my way out of its reach. As I came back up to standing, I used my wings to propel myself off the ground and take to the air, following the demon that had freed me.

It wasn't long before I was joined by the others who had been keeping Azaroth and his minions busy. Each of them was monstrous in some way. They were demons, I knew that much. However, I owed them my freedom, though whether or not they allowed me to keep that freedom was a different story.

But even in Hell, flying through the air beat being dragged around on a cart any day of the week.