A Fight Between Demons - Snapdragon

I remember when Micah first met Milan. Well – by met I mean saw him and realised who he was. They were introduced to each other later. But that was a big day, for all of us. It was also the first time I saw Milan fight.

I had seen Milan before; I was the one who had discovered him. Him and his Yill partner. That Yill freaked me out, as most Yills do. But this one – this one was different, somehow. Maybe it was because he was actually smiling. He's the only Demon I've ever seen smile, and it's not a smile of happiness. Oh, no; this one looks more likely to be found in a mental hospital. It's manic.

I think it was the smile, more than anything, that scared me.

It was in Zore that we found them again, Milan and Akuwin, the Yill. Right in the middle of town, in the normal spot for fights, He'rikki Street – Battle Street. It's well named; the place is stained with the blood of combats past. It's here that one can usually find the deadliest weaponry, the strangest armour, and the worst curses. It's a dark street, and it gets darker. So it's no real wonder that there are most often hoards of Demons lurking around.

A quick note about Zore: if you take all the dark, seedy parts of all the cities in the world and put them all together into one large, crowded metropolis, you end up with the capital city of Schedterra - Zore. It's the worst city in Eris, a refuse-filled, dirty, grimy, gloomy, seedy, whoring, bloody, scummy town, and it's absolutely jam-packed. You see throngs of people no matter where you go.

Some are here because that's where they were born. Some because they work for Lucifer and his Generals. And some are here because they have nowhere else to go.

So that's where we found ourselves one evening, on the bloodiest street in the bloodiest city, about to witness one of the bloodiest events in our lives.

It was Micah who saw him first. He's impossible to miss, really – the scar on his face gives him away in an instant. But when I heard Micah shout, "Snapdragon! It's Jahari!" I knew he was mistaken. As I've said, I met Milan before – the boy I had once known as Jahari. And he was not Jahari anymore.

But I went outside anyway, because I'm a bit lacking in common sense like that. Or perhaps it was because I was sick of looking at large blades I'd never be able to heft, and wanted to see something more interesting. Either way, I was not prepared for the sights – and sounds – that met me.

The first thing I noticed was the yelling. A Demon, clearly, by the scratchy-ness of his voice, and the language in which he was shouting. Raylen, the tongue of the Demons. It's one of the languages of Eris that I don't know very well, so I only made out a few words of what he was saying. By the tone, though, I think that was probably a good thing.

Then I saw who was doing the yelling, and who was taking it, and winced. The yeller was a giant of a Salan, with long, scraggly dark hair and small eyes. He had bulging muscles, wide hands, a thick neck, and a big mouth. The object of his frustration was a smaller Demon, another Salan, who was shorter and much skinnier than the big one. This one also had dark hair, but cut short, paler skin than most, and long legs. His arms were crossed, and his eyes were narrowed. One got the impression that there was only so much of this he was going to take.

A ring of people, Faeries and Demons alike, surrounded the two of them. The ring gave the Demons a fair bit of room, and it was tense, expectant. I knew what they were preparing for – this was leading to a fight.

I found Micah and stood beside him. He was staring at the pair of Salans, not saying anything, and not moving. Finally, he looked up at me, his blue eyes wide. "That's Jahari," he said again, "but he... he's... you were right, Snapdragon. He's a Demon."

I didn't quite know what to say to that, so I just nodded and gazed back at the Salans. The big one seemed to be getting more and more frustrated at the simple, silent response he was getting, and was yelling more and more. Suddenly, he snapped, and he struck the smaller Salan across the face. This was exactly what the crowd was waiting for, and cries of "Qa! Qa! Qa!" shook the air.

Micah looked worried. "They're calling for a fight," he explained, as if it wasn't obvious. "One to the death." I knew what he meant. Demon fights – especially those between Salans – were settled two ways. Either one surrendered and accepted the dominance of the other (and had probably lost a limb in the process), or one died. And the crowd was hoping for a deathmatch.

"This should be interesting, then," I said.

A dark-skinned female Salan next to me shouted to the big Salan in the ring, "C'mon, Bartek, you can take him! Show the pup what's what!"

Bartek snarled and crouched, preparing to attack. The other, Milan, the former Jahari, braced one foot behind the other, ready to move swiftly when the need arose. They growled at each other and bared their fangs, and then Bartek attacked.

He lunged forward, huge hands flying, and swiped at Milan's face. But the younger Demon was fast, and he dodged easily. Bartek tried again, lunging farther this time, and again Milan swiftly turned out of the way. They did this time and again.

"Hah," said the dark Salan beside me. "As I thought. He can't fight." Her partner, a tall ivory-skinned man with dark hair and feathered wings, made a noise of dissent and smirked a bit.

"No," he said, and turned toward his partner so that I got a good look of his eyes. They were flame-coloured, an almost orange red, with white pupils. He was a Shrieker. "He is merely biding his time. Waiting for the perfect opening. He fights better than you think."

Watching Milan, I realised the Shrieker was right. That was exactly what he was doing. While Bartek just attacked randomly with brute force, Milan was patient. He would dodge, twist, duck, and leap away from Bartek's swipes, but he never took his eyes off his opponent. He was waiting for something.

Bartek growled something in Raylen that I didn't catch, and leaped at Milan, large hands outstretched for his prey. Milan ducked, and Bartek leaped right over him. It was exactly the opening he had been waiting for. The lithe Salan was suddenly on Bartek's back – I didn't even see him jump – digging his claws into the exposed flesh. Bartek screamed, the high piercing shriek so unique to Demons, and whirled around, trying to shake the claws off. Milan hung on another moment, then let go.

The larger spun around to face the smaller Salan. Milan gazed resolutely back at him. "So it begins," said the Shrieker.

Milan leapt at Bartek, who seemed a bit surprised by the previous attack, and scraped his claws down Bartek's barrel chest. Bartek grunted and shoved him off, swiping with a huge hand. Milan dodged it easily and swiftly manoeuvred around to behind Bartek. Perhaps mindful of the still-bleeding claw marks on his back, Bartek twisted around to get Milan within his sights again.

He had done just what Milan wanted. Milan twisted with him, simultaneously reaching one hand up and clawing into the flesh of Bartek's neck. Blood spattered everywhere. Bartek fell back, landing heavily on his feet. Milan was on him in an instant, his hands clawing every part of Bartek he could reach.

"He's doomed," said Micah sadly, and I knew he wasn't talking about Milan.

Bartek jumped up, and Milan fell off him and landed on his back. The giant Demon eyed him with contempt. Milan looked up at him, face blank.

"It's all a matter of chemistry, really," I heard the Shrieker say.

"What?" wondered Micah aloud.

"Vampires have a natural venom; as do Salans. They reject any other poison that enters their bloodstream... unless the invading venom is more potent than their own. So it all comes down to who has the deadliest blood." He shrugged. "All a matter of chemistry."

Micah nodded in understanding, and turned back to the battle. Maybe, I thought, but it also depends on who bites first.

Bartek advanced on Milan, who was still lying on the ground. I wondered why he didn't get up – he had definitely had the time. What was he waiting for now?

"Now, insolent pup," snarled Bartek, "you'll get what's coming to you." Milan said nothing.

With a growl, Bartek grabbed Milan, and Milan sprung into action. In one fluid movement, he kicked up, clawed down, and twisted away and out of Bartek's grip. Bartek looked surprised – this obviously wasn't something he'd expected – and paused for a moment. It was all the time Milan needed. He jumped high, going in for the kill, and sank his fangs into Bartek's neck.

A second later, he released Bartek, and stood aside. Bartek screeched again, one hand clamped over the bite marks on his neck. He staggered backwards, gasping, his eyes bulging.

"It would seem," said the Shrieker coolly, "that this pup is very deadly indeed."

Bartek fell to his knees, body shaking. Milan jumped on him again, sinking his fangs into the other side of Bartek's neck. He didn't let go this time. I looked away from the sight and my eyes fell on a certain tall Yill. His wings were torn and misshapen. His eyes were red, and his hair was brown. I knew who he was at once – Akuwin, Milan's partner.

Finally, Milan stood, eying the corpse of Bartek with disgust. "Tsssssssssssssakh," he swore, and spat on the body, and then he walked away. Akuwin followed him with a glance at the corpse. I looked at Micah. He looked back up at me, and the childlike despair in his eyes melted my heart. "Snapdragon..." he said, "I'm worried."

I placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled as reassuringly as I could at him. "I know," I said. "I am too."