Donegal | Year 1307 | Gaul
Aidalis slid up behind her on the saddle, reaching to grasp the reins from around her midsection, the tops of his armored forearms pressing gently against her ribcage. He leaned forward in the saddle, slightly, the front of his armor brushing against Kieara's wings. This was not the last times he'd been on the horse with her, with the gentle touches and the care for her comfort. This was going to need to be quick and smooth, and he needed to be in full control, not feeling Malconia breathing down his shoulder at every step. Fear kept him focused, as he knew it would. He snapped the reins once, and Malack let out a long whinny, amongst the sounds of the other horses crying, and the thundering sound of demon feet and the bestial roars from outside. Aidalis kicked his heels against his horses' sides, and the creature jolted forward, through the open door. The carved prayer on the stable door was a blur as they passed it, Malack's hooves clattering against the cobbled and half-ruined streets of Gaul.
Gaul's square may have been deserted only moments ago, but now, the ten demons were standing outside of the church, sniffing the air with the slit-like noses of their many, fused together heads. The eleventh, the Spawn of Sahariel, the one who was greater than all these other petty creatures, sat on the remains of the church's rooftop, overseeing the others; golden eyes burning bright, its mace hanging limply in one of its clawed hands. As soon as the small band exited the stable, though, the demon turned straight to them, and lifted its mace with a grip tight enough to smash boulders. As it did, fire engulfed both its clawed hands and the mace itself, but the mace did not turn to ash, merely glowed white hot. The craftsmanship of Turagath was expert, and even with the poorest of materials, he outfitted his creatures with tools perfect for the destruction of man and elohim alike. Only now did Aidalis note that this creature was wearing a set of armor, rust-red in colour, seemingly made of oxidized iron. It almost had looked like the creatures scales, it was so organic in design, looked so much like part of the monster. The Spawn of Sahariel pushed itself off of the rooftop with surprising dexterity, and landed on the ground in a cloud of ash and dust. It let out a bestial roar, but in its roars, there were words, words that dripped with pure malice, pure hatred. Each syllable was pronounced too sharply, too harshly. "Get them! Your Prince commands it!" It pointed its immense mace at the horse and the two riders, racing through the ruined streets.
Aidalis felt his heart skip a beat. The creature was a Prince? Not only was he a Spawn of Sahariel, but he was one of the original, from the Nine Days of Fear. After Sahariel had been dragged down to the Abyss, Bel had made her an offer. To bear all the children of the demons; and some lesser creatures had already been birthed from her womb, abominations all of them. But when she agreed to Bel's deal, she promised that she would fulfill the desire of each of the Prime Evils, and after she had satiated all of them, she would become one of them. During the Nine Days of Fear, each of the eight Prime Evils at the time had laid with her, for one day. There had only been one purpose for this; to satiate every demon's desire for spawn, something that they all were unable to have, prior to Sahariel. On the ninth day, she had bore a child for each of the Prime Evils who had each become a Prince of the Abyss, appointed by their monstrous fathers. One had already been slain, Lady Alessia Vergentorix made sure of that. But to this day, nobody else had managed to replicate this feat. Aidalis was certainly not about to try. He shouted to his horse, "Go, go! For the sake of all the Gods -- go!" The horse whinnied in reply and they barreled off, out of the square, into the edges of the city.
The demons followed. They were not especially fast, not with their warhammers. And the demons knew that too. They dropped their warhammers, and got on all fours, loping after them - using their overly long arms to propel them forwards. They were as fast as the fastest hunting dogs, and in a city, a city with clear streets and low buildings, they would overtake Aidalis and Kieara easily. Aidalis kept spurring his horse onward, but they couldn't run like this, not forever. They would catch up with them easily on the road ; the terrain was even less treacherous on a dirt road then it was on the cobbles. The only thing they had was the slight head-start - but the demons were quickly closing that cap. Aidalis glanced around wildly, considering his options. And then, it hit him. The woods. The Cloven Woods. The smell of corpses in the woods, the smell of forest and animals - that would hide their scent. The trees could provide them with cover, and a horse could travel far faster through the woods than an immense demon. Aidalis roughly turned his horse's reins, dragging his forearm across Kieara's midsection. The horse was repositioned, heading directly into the Cloven Woods, with the petrified trees that grew amongst the existing, natural forest. He urged Malack forward, flicking the reins again. He could smell the demons following them, the acridic stench of sulfur and the sound of their claws digging into the earth and grasses, instead just the dull clatter of claws against cobblestones. Aidalis continued to glance around them, terrified of the idea of a demon coing up on either side of them - but instead there was just a green and grey blur in his vision. They were in the woods. This did not give Aidalis cause to slow his horse ; he wanted to be as far away from Gaul as possible.
Donegal | Year 1307 | The Cloven Woods
The demons stopped at the mouth of the woods. Perhaps they were uncertain of how to proceed - Aidalis noticed that the eleventh member of their company, the Prince, did not accompany them. Or perhaps they were afraid of these woods, where the Gaulmen and the All-Sword Ezekiel had imprisoned the Mother of Monsters - perhaps they were afraid that the same would happen to them. But demons do not feel fear, in the way that men do. Nevertheless, the demons did not follow the trio's flight into the woods. It was quiet, in the woods, eerily still. There was the occasional brush of a breeze through the trees, and the crunching of fallen leaves beneath the horse's hooves. There was no sound of birds, no sound of any life at all. There was only the sounds that the riders and the horse made, and the pitter-patter of rain against shoulder-guards and leaves. The horse, flecks of white foam appearing at the corners of its mouth slowed to a walk. Malack had been ridden all day, and both he and Aidalis were tired - night would be upon them soon. The grey-sky, what bits of it they could see between the tree-branches was becoming darker.
Aidalis let go of the reins, uncaring. As long as the were headed roughly south, and avoided the main road, there would no reason that Malack would get lost. He leaned back in the saddle, bringing his arms up around Kieara's chest, stretching them above her head. He then settled his hands back around her midsection. He was dripping with sweat from the fast paced ride, from the effort leaning into each and every gallop. He felt sticky and polluted, but he was also relieved - they had managed to escape. And he believed, genuinely, that they were relatively safe within the woods. Safe, and alone. He was reminded of the promise that he made to Kieara, and reached up with one his hands, elbow brushing against Kieara's left breast gently, to lift his mask up partially. His lips, chin, and the tip of his scarred nose were now visible. Satisfied, he replaced his hand back around Kieara's midsection, to hold the angel in the saddle. She must be feeling frail and drained, she had been sick, and it was likely she was now deprived of all nutrients. They'd have to make camp soon, once they were a bit farther away.
Aidalis' voice came out clear, and soft, human again. "Dig into the front-right saddlebag if you want something to eat. We'll make camp, soon, and I'll get you something proper." His scarred lips twitched in a small smile, and he gently loosened his hold on her, allowing her to get at the bag he was mentioning. In his heart, he prayed that the girl didn't try any of the other bags. She would be shocked to see what their contents were, and that was not a battle that Aidalis felt up for, not now. Wearily, he asked her, the hint of the inquiry in the way his final syllable was uplifted, "I'm sure you have questions?"
