The Great Weapons: Beyond These Walls 02 (revised)

Edited to improve (I think) the dialogue, and the description of the demon. I've left the original text crossed out at the bottom, if you want to compare.

It circled high over the keep, then descended in a slow, narrowing gyre. Looking up, Roberr had a brief impression of wide, dark wings and a lean form between them. He let his hand drop to his father's sword, though he couldn't bring himself to see this as a serious attack. Frightening as it might look, it was only a single beast -- and they were only reaching the end of the second day of the five that Captain Dezarr had promised them.

Miledha took a step forward as it circled in, but Roberr touched her shoulder and she stopped. It lit on the far side of the small upper tower from them, wings extended and cupped to slow its descent: man-shaped, black-skinned, broad-winged, and taloned at both hands and feet. Its wings extended from its shoulders, and showed the same lean, featherless impression as a bat's. It clutched at the top of a crenelation, sinking talons into the stone, and leered at the two of them. "Be at ease," it said. "I bring greetings from my master, and from his Captain."

Roberr found his voice. "If your masters wanted us to be easy, they wouldn't have sent something like you."

"Then be afraid," it said, "but I come under the same truce you were offered yester'morn."

"What is it you want?" asked Roberr.

"Oh, many things: blood, chaos, destruction." Aside from the wings, it was roughly the shape of a man, though its skin was entirely black and it bore fearsome talons rather than hands or feet. Its voice should have strange and terrible; instead, it was disconcertingly human, a rich baritone. "Still, it's not my wants that should concern you... At least, not yet. My master only sent me to repeat his captain's message: surrender the Gauntlet. Surrender the Gauntlet, and as they promised they will pass you by. Surrender the Gauntlet, and your lands will remain yours, in service to the High Lord of the Shadir."

He stood alone, facing the winged thing, and realized a moment later that Miledha was still there: she'd only faded out of notice, as she frequently did. He felt himself relax, though a healthy dose of fear remained in him: however powerful the demon might be, he was safe from it for as long as Captain Dezarr held to the truce. "Your master and Captain Dezarr may consider us reminded," he said drily, "but I cannot surrender what I do not hold."

The thing regarded him for a long moment: white eyes with burning red centers against hairless black skin. Then its wings spread wide, and clapped together as it fell back off the inner keep. It rose, flapping, into the gathering night.

That, finally, was when the guards arrived. For the life of him, Roberr couldn't decide if that was a good thing, or bad.

It circled high over the keep, then descended in a slow, narrowing gyre. Looking up, Roberr had a brief impression of wide, dark wings and a lean form between them. He let his hand drop to his father's sword, though he couldn't bring himself to see this as a serious attack. Frightening as it might look, it was only a single beast -- and they were only reaching the end of the second day of the five that Captain Dezarr had promised them.

Miledha took a step forward as it circled in, but Roberr touched her shoulder and she stopped. It lit on the far side of the small upper tower from them, wings extended and cupped to slow its descent: man-shaped, black-skinned, broad-winged, and taloned at both hands and feet. Its wings extended from its shoulders, and showed the same lean, featherless impression as a bat's. It clutched at the top of a crenelation, sinking talons into the stone, and leered at the two of them. "Be at ease," it said. "I bring greetings from my master, and from his Captain."

Roberr found his voice. "If your masters wanted us to be easy, they wouldn't have sent something like you."

"Then be afraid," it said, "but I come under the same truce you were offered yester'morn."

"What is it you want?" asked Roberr.

"For myself, I want only freedom -- but I've come to tell you of my master's wants. Surrender the Gauntlet, and as they promised they will pass you by. Surrender the Gauntlet, and your lands remain yours, in service to the High Lord of the Shadir."

"My answer hasn't changed." Roberr regarded the thing in front of him. Its torso was at least as large as his, heavy with muscle, and it wore neither clothes nor armor. With those wings behind its shoulders, he had no doubt it could cross the distance between them in the blink of an eye... or that it could have him up and away a heartbeat after that. Still, this wasn't simply a matter of power. Captain Dezarr had pledged his honor under flag of truce. "I don't have it. I don't know where it is. And if I did, I wouldn't surrender it to your captain; I'd be fighting him with it."

He stood alone, facing the winged thing, and realized a moment later that Miledha was still there: she'd only faded out of notice, as she frequently did. If the demon broke the truce, it would be in for a nasty surprise.

The thing regarded him for a long moment: white eyes with burning red centers against hairless black skin. Then its wings spread wide, and clapped together as it fell back off the inner keep. It rose, flapping, into the gathering night.

That, finally, was when the guards arrived. For the life of him, Roberr couldn't decide if that was a good thing, or bad.