Chapter 83

  Bovinarros followed the dozen warriors and the single mage as quietly as one could in the Wilds of the Fourth Ring. The dark, twisted trees and their damnable, glowing lava-veins made the place even hotter and more uncomfortable than the rest of this ring, brushing against the branches and roots every few steps making it even worse. Attracting as few of the wildlife as possible was essential, which was the reason for the small groups Oxiramon’s soldiers had been split into; some heading for the place the mages had identified as the end of the enemy tunnel, some hunting and keeping the wildlife away from the place. It was a far cry from the cool, comfortable labirinthine cities or the rocky forests of the Third.

  He didn’t mind being sent out to the field with the soldiers, even though this was his first time; being an aide had kept him busy and close to King Ox until now.

  Oh, how his clan and his family had rejoiced when one of their own had been chosen to serve under King Ox himself. Honour, prestige, privilege — words his kin held dear and would have killed and died for. And dying was what most of them would have done, very quickly, at the hands of an impatient and impulsive king. Well, thanks to his high constitution, he had survived all the honour, prestige and privilege — hopefully scions of other clans would enjoy it more than he had. He was content in the knowledge that as a captain in General Oxiramon’s army, he was still working in the name of the glorious leader of the Great Herd of the Third Ring, Oxenarrikhon himself. Such was the life of a minotaur. Or a werewolf. Or a caver. Or anyone calling the Third Ring home. But times were changing, or so it seemed.

  Despite having been appointed captain, General Oxiramon had placed him in a role which was, for all intents and purposes, an aide once again. It was a familiar and comfortable position, and for the first time in a long time, he felt his advice was not only heeded but appreciated, and thus, after two days of planning and waiting, it was time to capture or kill the enemy demon lord.

  We’re here. This is the area. My mages are telling me the tunnel ends around here. The general’s thought-voice came to him.

  He couldn’t see him or any of the other groups, but the map was in front of his eyes, glowing red dots showing everyone’s positions around a grey area which was where they’d expected the demon lord of the Fourth Ring to surface any minute.

  Time to move in, general. Groups 1 to 15 should surround the place as tightly as possible. Groups 16 to 25 will continue to keep the wildlife away. All going as planned so far. Bovi reported to Oxiramon, who was with a group much closer to the area in question.

  We can’t let her slip away, Bovi! The general said, sounding excited.

  We won’t. If the mages are correct, the tunnel is too narrow for them to bring a large force out quickly enough. We’ll have them. He assured him. But we need to stay hidden until she comes up, but once she does, we’ll need to be fast. We can’t have her fleeing back to the tunnel and back to the city.

  Just as we planned. The general said.

  Just as they had planned.

  ‘Bovinarros! Hell Mana is moving. Earth Spells. Close to the surface. In that direction,’ the mage in his group said to him, pointing ahead.

  ‘Let’s move!’ he ordered.

  He couldn’t help but grin; not long now, and he’d have the little demon lord of the Fourth Ring in his hands, and once King Ox got the title, it wouldn’t be long before the entire realm was trampled under the hooves of the Great Herd.

  ***

  They just broke through to the surface, they’re coming up. Twenty-five steps ahead of me. I can just about see the commotion. General Oxiramon announced, and Bovi checked it on the map.

  The black dots indicating the army groups — including the general’s — were closely surrounding the red dot representing the location of the enemy’s exit point, and he and his group were only another forty or so steps behind them.

  Understood. He acknowledged the general’s message, then turned to the soldiers following him. ‘We move quietly. When the lord of the Fourth comes up, we’ll get her!’

  The minotaurs all nodded in silence, and the couple of werewolves attached to his group were clearly struggling to suppress their urge to howl. Their time would come soon; they were much faster runners than minotaurs, perfect for throwing them into the fray ahead of everyone else and to sow confusion amongst the enemy’s ranks, paving the way for a main force to attack.

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  Damn these horrid fire-demons! Oxiramon complained. They have really been forcing my mages to tunnel for them. I can see them coming up from the hole.

  Any sign of the demon lord? Bovi asked, not wanting to get into the topic of the minotaur mages.

  Not yet. I can see Fourth Ringers coming up, too. And my mages are just standing there, waiting. Not even resisting or trying to escape. What is going on?

  I don’t know, general. I’m approaching. Thirty steps. Bovi said.

  Oh, there she is. These must be her personal guards. And … she’s small. And weird looking, even for a fire demon. Oxiramon reported. This is it! We’re going in to get her. Bovi! Hurry up!

  He picked up the pace, rushing ahead amongst the chaotic, twisted branches of the thick, glowing forest, hoping he’d make it there in time to be able to help with the fighting — a demon lord’s personal guards weren’t just decorations; they were always the fiercest, highest-level warriors and mages. With his high constitution, he could make a difference. Except, as he got closer and closer to the target area, the din of battle was absent; the clanking of clashing blades, the roars of warriors, the rumblings of earth spells or the whooshing of fire spells he had expected to hear were just not there.

  General! What’s happening? He demanded.

  He received no reply. Could it be that Oxiramon had been defeated so swiftly and quietly? No, that just wasn’t possible.

  ‘Faster!’ he ordered his soldiers, ignoring the burning touch of branches as he ran ahead of them with the hope that he wasn’t going to be too late — whatever was happening.

  A momentary sensation of relief overcame him when he finally saw twenty or so minotaur warriors, standing and alive, facing the enemy in a place where the trees weren’t as densely packed as everywhere else in this stupid forest. That moment passed in a heartbeat, and relief was quickly replaced by worry: the fire demons and their young lord whom they surrounded protectively, were also standing. And no-one was fighting. Why? Why was no-one fighting? Where was General Oxiramon?

  With a roar of anger and trepidation, he burst into the glade to join a fight that was yet to begin. He saw the young fire-demon smiling in the midst of her guards — he recognised her, even though she looked different. In fact, she didn’t look like the rest of the fire-demons. But it didn’t matter; with her captured or killed, the Fourth Ring would fall into King’s Ox’s hands, and he’d die to make sure of it if it came to that.

  ‘Bovi! Stop!’ He heard General Oxiramon’s voice, louder, deeper and more commanding than he had ever heard it.

  Stop? Why? The prize was right in front of him.

  ‘I said stop!’ the general ordered him again, this time stepping out from the crowd of quietly loitering minotaurs to block his way to the enemy.

  Bovi slid to a halt and looked back to find that the soldiers following him had already stopped seconds ago, even the werewolves who were supposed to be way ahead of him by now.

  ‘General!’ he panted.

  ‘Bovi, this is over. We’re letting them go,’ he said.

  ‘What? Why? No! This is treason!’ he cried out, and he drew his smaller, one-handed axe from his belt, ready to fight, even if he had to put the general down in order to do what was right.

  ‘We are letting the Princess go, and I’m not going to have an argument about it,’ Oxiramon stated coldly while hefting his own warhammer, leaving no doubt that he, too, was ready to use it.

  Bovi looked around, confused; all the gathered minotaurs and werewolves were nodding in agreement, adding to his worries. Just what in the name of all the Third Ring’s nourishing pastures was happening here? He took a deep breath for a last attempt to convince the general to step aside, when a new voice interrupted him.

  ‘So, your name is Bovi?’

  It was a beautiful voice. So melodic, so warm, so … caring. He didn’t have to wait long to see the owner of that voice; the demon lord of the Fourth Ring stepped away from her guards, walking past minotaurs and werewolves who did nothing to stop her. Instead, the brave and loyal soldiers of the Third Ring followed her with their eyes, and in those eyes Bovi could almost see a strange light.

  ‘I am Bovinarros. Former aide to King Ox himself,’ he answered the question as the tiny demon lord arrived to stand in front of him, Oxiramon stepping away to give her room.

  Why had he just answered the question? He had no idea. All he knew was that he had, and that it felt good.

  ‘I see, I see,’ the fire-demon girl said, nodding vigorously, still smiling. ‘Well, please don’t fight between yourselves, okay? It’s just not something you do in the presence of a princess.’

  ‘A princess?’ Bovi asked, looking down at her, while his grip on his axe was loosening.

  ‘Bovi, do not be so ignorant! She’s the Princess. Our Princess,’ General Oxiramon growled at him.

  ‘Now, now, general, there’s no need for that. I haven’t introduced myself to him yet,’ the princess scolded the general, not harshly, but with a cheerful tone. It was strange, but very endearing. The princess turned back to Bovi and said, ‘I am Flamey Elizabeth Hyde, daughter of Hellfire Lord Hyde, heir and princess of the Fourth Ring.’

  Bovi’s axe slipped out of his hand and clattered onto the ground. His eyes widened and his chest was overcome with a warmth he had never experienced before.

  ‘Princess …’ he began to say, wondering how it was possible to feel this content and giddy just by being in the presence of this beautiful, adorable being.

  ‘I know, Bovi, I know what you want,’ she said, shaking her head, but still smiling. ‘Do you know what you want?’

  ‘I want to serve you forever!’ he exhaled the words as he fell onto his knees.

  Even kneeling before the most wonderful creature of all of Hell, he was still looking down on her. But the princess stretched and tiptoed to reach up, and she patted him on his head. Bovi had never known that swearing loyalty to a princess could result in this much happiness. The old and false idea that honour, prestige and privilege meant enduring abuse and stupidity by the hands of the worst king ever to rule the Third, was ridiculous. Serving Princess Flamey of the Fourth Ring was the very meaning of honour, prestige and privilege. A worthy master, a worthy being, who would depend on him, and in turn he could depend on her. That’s what the Princess was.

  ‘And you shall serve me, Bovinarros, and I shall reward you for it,’ the princess stated.

  Bovinarros, former aide to King Ox, nearly fell to the ground in worship of the Princess, everything and everyone else fading from his vision. There was only him, and there was only the princess, and nothing else mattered.