The market of souls was very crowded today, more so than usual; choked with lemurs, imps, human souls, and the occasional mounted demon rider. Good. Lord Malphas always said, “Keep the best of your plans hidden from public view, but when it is time to do something in public be VERY public. They must always know your name.” The buzz surrounding his name and Satan’s personal involvement was still being talked about but it was dying down. Time to bring his name back to prominence.
A palanquin bearing the mark of the chisel and hammer carried by the naked souls of eight gorgeous women emerged from the throng headed away from the market. Sitting atop a pile of cushions attended by two naked souls of extremely well-muscled young men sat Nebiros, Master Mason of The Pit and direct servant to Satan himself. No targets would present themselves out of that entourage, or at least no targets Rabdos would be wise to select.
Behind the palanquin walked Nebiros’ household, each carrying their burdens from the market. Behind the household bearers rode the contingent of Nebiros’ personal guard, all demons riding the backs of physically well-endowed men. Each demon carried his axe leveled at those walking the streets, scanning for a threat, or hint of a threat. Rabdos cautiously averted his eyes to avoid any possibility of being seen as such.
The procession moved beyond Rabdos’ position and the walking crowd folded back in, with the odd rider taking advantage of the cleared path heading back in to the market. Rabdos resumed looking for a likely target when a commotion at the market end of the street caught his eye. He strained to get a good view until he saw a rider trying to make his way through the crowd. A young demon rode a very young naked male soul. Not very well endowed physically, but very young, about eighteen or nineteen in human years Rabdos guessed. He had striking red hair and a face covered in freckles. His skin was of the highly prized alabaster complexion, where blood from being recently broken to the saddle didn’t mar it. The demon had a rare prize indeed and he foolishly struck at those in the street with the butt of his axe trying to clear a path. Perfect.
Rabdos rose and stepped from the shadows of the building he squatted by. He positioned himself in the middle of the street holding his axe with both hands parallel to the street and waited. Those around him immediately shied away clearing space around him. They’d seen this before. The clearing path met the approaching rider when he was about ten feet from Rabdos. The mount slowed, then stopped just three feet away. The rider was at least wise enough not to strike out at a full demon with axe at the ready.
“Out of the way. I have important business for the Master Mason,” the demon spat down at Rabdos. Rabdos stepped forward until he was just a foot away from the demon’s mount and set the butt of his axe on the ground by his foot, leaning the head out at an angle toward the demon as Lord Malphas had taught him. The demon observed the movement but didn’t react otherwise. Fool, perfect.
“Master Mason Nebiros has little use for one as foolish as yourself,” Rabdos said in a very casual tone.
“Foolish? I? I am the one who has the mount. I am the one who has the advantage. I am the older. Respect your betters or I’ll turn you to ash, imp.” The insult was what Rabdos had been waiting for.
Rabdos never moved his weapon but hellfire sprang from the axe head shooting just passed the head of the mount, striking the demon rider just above the nose. The demon rocked backwards flying out of the saddle to land on the street some six feet away with the top half of his head missing. The demon’s axe burst into flames and vanished.
Rabdos ignored the dead demon and reached out his free hand, grabbing the reigns attached to the bit in the male soul’s mouth. The young man winced at the pain.
“I am Rabdos, the Strangler,” He said loudly, speaking to the mount but allowing his voice to carry. “I am your master now. You serve me and no other. Do you understand?”
The boy nodded he understood as tears of pain streamed down his face. Rabdos loosened his grip, and began looking for the brand on the soul as the circled crowed watched. He quickly found it on the outside of his left buttock. He inverted his axe, spoke a few quick words, and pressed the top of the axe head to the mark. The boy screamed and smoke shot up where the axe met flesh. He removed the axe head only slightly so he alone could see the mark, a twisted ribbon glowing in yellow hellfire. A second after the axe head moved away, the mark vanished leaving the boy’s flesh unmarred.
Rabdos set his foot in the stirrup and prepared to mount as Lord Malphas had taught him. Worry coursed through him, concerned his exit would not make the impression he desired if he didn’t complete the motion smoothly. A quick jump and pull swung Rabdos into the saddle just as he’d practiced on the rock. He surveyed the crowed with his axe across his lap, adjusted his position in the saddle, then tapped the boy’s ribs with his heel spikes. The boy winced satisfactorily and began loping down the street, leaving the dead demon’s body without a backward glance. Rabdos never saw the two lemurs scamper over to the body and under the clothes, or when they emerged dragging a bloody section of skin bearing the mark of the chisel and hammer.
Guardians of the Herald is a weekly serial published and copyright by The Cavalier, Mark Malcolm. For more information about this story please join us on our Facebook page community at www.facebook.com/firstchevalierbooks.
