”Dad, what does it look like – you know, out there in the world?” The boy was only five.

  ”Not now son.” A distraction appeared far away in the land of barren wastes and wind. The dad only noticed because of the large gathering near the monastery. ”You know…” Not even looking at his boy, he started walking, slowly. ”…I’ve been looking forward to the day you would ask that, my son.” His eyes grew big. ”Oh my god.” He whispered. ”But the timing is a little off, I’m sorry!” And so was he – off, with his stupid timing, off, to the monastery.

  The whole village was there, and they all talked about it.

  From the horizon they saw a silhuett of someone, clearly not human, as horns popped from the blowing sand. Its weapon was unclear, but it was big.

  ”The Devil! He comes for our unbelievers!” Someone yelled in complete panic.

  An older, drunken man, leaning on the pigs fence, was of the same mindset, but his legs were wobbly.

  ”Run! Run fools!” No one seemed to bat an eye at him. ”Ah, to Hell with it!” Then he slipped in a puddle of pig shit. It smeared on his back, then he stumbled to his feet and ran, pausing to puke.

  ***

  The raven promptly flew back to her master, greeted by treats.

  ”I wonder where Donovan is heading this time.” Victor said to his sister.

  ”Dandy Donovan! Dandy! Donovan!” The bird krawked.

  He squinted over his shoulder, as he pulled the storm guard mask up over his mouth.

  ”Oh look, even Erub is coming. But where’s his little boy?”

  ”Yeah. Donovan will be fine.” She said. ”So, what do we think of this? Another lesser demon? It looks bigger this time.” She squinted also. ”Hmm. Yeah, definately a big boy demon, I’d wager.”

  ”We don’t yet know if that’s a demon.” Said Victor. ”And didn’t you hear? The boy! Where!?”

  ”What!?” She said, as the sandstorm gained power.

  Victor forgot he asked anything when he got his epiphany.

  ”I don’t like the way you stare at it, all immobile like that... Victor!?”

  He turned to his sister.

  ”Sorry. I just have this crazy feeling, like in my gut – and up through my chest.”

  ”What do you mean?”

  ”Can’t really explain it.” He half smiled into one cheek.

  ”That did not make me feel better, just so you know.” She still half smiled back, then winked an eye at him. ”Hey look!” The sandstorm calmed down.

  ”By the gods, it’s as I thought.” Victor hushed, afraid to speak aloud about a truth none could prepare for.

  ”What’s that?!” She raised her voice, unable to make out Victor’s whispering.

  ”That, dear sister Tanya, is a minotaur! One of the three, in the flesh.”

  Looking at each other through their storm guard masks, they still felt each other’s dreadful gaze pierce their skin.

  ”You know what we have to do. Tell the world the minotaurs are south of their lairs.”

  He saw the sadness spread through her, knowing her brother and what she knew he had to do.

  ”I know, I know! But someone must take a stand and delay this creature, for the sake of our village least of all! These guys don’t play an easy game.” Victor put both palms in a barrier protecting the side of his face from the gusts of sand. He had to shout to be heard at all. ”If this thing reaches you-know-what, we’ll all be lost to a realm of madness!” He hugged Tanya and whispered in her ear; ”I’m undefeated, remember?”

  With a frown and teary eyes, Tanya mounted Brandghast.

  ”To the north, my ghost!”

  Victor heard her yelling in the distance.

  ”Try not to fucking die!”

  Well, that’s not a half bad idea. He decided he’d concider it.

  ***

  Victor tried, though not his best, to get the attention of his village. Wasn’t his village, of course, but things are what you make of them. Right?

  ”Listen up! Those of you who care to die of old age, run! Take what you can with you! I know many of you don’t like Donovan! But he’s right! This time, he is!”

  The crowd was mezmerized, but not by him. They all saw the imposing minotaur. Few faces actually turned to hear Victor. Even fewer listened to the short and suboptimal speech, telling them all to follow a drunk man into the desert.

  ”Bah!” Why did he do this? Protector of the village — Well, some gratitude he got from that job.

  ”If these people won’t listen, I know someone who probably will,” he told himself.

  Victor jotted down one line on a piece of old parchment. ”This is it.” He stared at the words. Then he carefully rolled the paper, made it ready. ”I depend on you now, Nevermore. Don’t let me down, ok?”

  Victor smiled. He got a squawk and a gentle peck on the knuckles in return.

  ”Don’t let down! Nevermore!” the raven answered.

  As he found his speed-turtle, by the well beneith the stairs, he looked up and saw the little cripple step outside his comforts. Five years old, hobbling along with just a cane.

  ”Father! Help me pee! Where are you!”

  Victor felt that sudden rage. The one that can shove all other pressing matters aside.

  ”Oh, gods sake!” He threw his goblet hard to the the ground. He flew up those stairs, furius. ”Not a drop in my godforsaken throat, that’s just great!”

  He put on a smile for the boy.

  ”Hello there.” Victor reached down into his pockets. ”Guess which hand.” Victor’s wrinkled forehead was disarming.

  ”Uh. Uhm. That one.”

  Victor pulled out something big and sharp.

  ”Wow! A fang! Thanks Julius!”

  ”That, dear boy, is the fang of a direwolf.” Still smiling as he ruffled the boy’s hair. ”Now, let’s get to a poophole for you.”

  ”Yes, I almost can’t hold it in!” The boy said. ”But I only need to pee.” He looked at the fang, as they went out back. ”Direwolf… Wow! Did you know this is a direwolf fang, Julius?!”

  Victor laughed.

  ”Yes boy, I just brought it to you.” He could not help but keep laughing. The boy subconsciously reminded him of something. That’s… just why… I do this. He shifted his mouth up and side to side, thinking. The word of his bird echoed in his mind.

  There was time to act. But no time to think. Not anymore.

  As Julius gave up the idea of abandoning the lost souls of his village, the people near the monastery started to move. Some were just walking slowly backwards. Some started to run in random directions, though not to the monster. That would be silly.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The reality of the situation hit everyone different. Many of them hoped, and actually still thought, that this new monstrosity would be like every other demon that tried its luck invading the hamlet.

  Surface demons, they were called, the regular occuring ones, even though they often lived in the underground. These things still needed water, unlike the creatures of every single realm of Hell.

  If Red Harp had lifeblood, it came from that well, precisely placed at the center square – Finest water in the desert. Old Olur assisted in its construction when he was a young boy.

  ***

  All too late, the boy’s dad came running home. Up the stairs. Barged through the door like a bull.

  ”Pod!!” He checked every room. ”Poood!! My son!!”

  Outside stood Victor. He held the boy’s hand, who remained mesmerized by the gift.

  ”Oh, I was so worried!” He looked at his son barely a second, then turned to Julius, frowning. ”What are you doing with my son!? Huh!?”

  Victor was quick to retort.

  ”Do you feel threatened!? Do you really?” Voice strategically calmed fast, maintaining its dominance. ”I’ve been designated demon killer in your little drop of paradise…” One could smell the sarcasm in the sandy air. ”…for over a year now. What would I do with your boy? Because I cannot see the demon in him.” Julius’s voice was soft as silk. The boy’s dad looked away, squirming. Deep down he knew, Julius was their saviour. ”What I saw was a boy in need, so I helped. He was looking for his daddy though.” Victor kneeled and gave the boy his best smile. Then he looked the man straight in the eye, said nothing, and walked. From a distance he could hear the boy.

  ”Look dad! A fang! Wanna know who gave it to me? It’s a direwolf fang! What’s going on at the church?!” And so on.

  The boy could probably talk a big hole right through your chest, given a couple more hours. Victor was glad to have had a moment with him, though parenting seemed a far more difficult job, even than killing demons.

  He turned. Maybe he wanted to see if the boy waved, or maybe he just wanted to postpose the inevitable. The boy did not wave, and was held up by his loud mouthed father. In a good way this time, and not the usual, late drunken way – Thank God.

  ”Son… Pod. I’m sorry. Sorry I went away for a while. It won’t happen again, ok?” He forced a smile through his quivering cheeks.

  Pod had already moved on.

  ”Ok, but daddy, look, if I hold it like this it looks like the claw comes out from my hand. Like this, look!”

  ”That is just super.” He replied as he went for the hug. ”We have to leave this place, Pod. We have to leave and never come back.”

  ”But why? I don’t want to leave.” The emotion from Pod was contagious. Looking at his dad made it even harder to grasp what he had said. ”I want to stay here! I want to stay! I have two friends!” Then his twitching face burst into tears, as he leaned heavier on his cane. ”I have three friends! Victor is my friend also dad, actually!” Each sentence was harder to say than the one before, through the wailing and the tears. The big bubble of snot did not exactly help either.

  ”I understand, son. But Victor have some things he must do. He’s trying to help us. But we can’t stay right now.” As he squinted through the sand he fell back. ”Come on now!” Pod was picked up by the waist, dropping his cane, proceeding to scream incoherently.

  ”Wish I didn’t stop to hear all that. Crying is not up there in my ’Book of Best Traits of Children’.” As Victor rolled up his eyes at his terribly named, imagined, book title, he turned again – determined to do what had to be done.

  ***

  It was immence. As the sun shone through the ripples of sand, shadow covered the entire width and almost the length of the street. The hamlet of Red Harp, plucked hard at the strings. The small settlement produced an echo otherwise absent, following the stomping of hooves from the unholy bent legs.

  Victor saw it in full view on the way back down. By the three hells, it was big. He bent to pick up his goblet, filled it up twice, took massive rejuvinating gulps, and continued on, feeling a strange weight of the whole situation. Was he scared? … No, not the great demon killer, The Skycleaver, surely!

  Dark brown and black hair covered the lower body, slithered unevenly up and covered the grotesquely large bull’s head, donning the huge forward facing horns.

  Victor’s jaw dropped behind the sand storm mask, as he further studied the gladiatorial figure.

  An almighty frust exited the snout, billowing two sandshrouds on impact with the ground.

  Muscles upon muscles bulged, from its upper body especially. The arms wore the likeness of a man, as did most of the back and stomach. However, this had never been no man. Too big. And that’s an understatement. There’s the reason they could all see him from so far away — He, or it, must have been five meters tall.

  Victor passed a woman, standing spellbound.

  ”It’s best to leave, Ms. Typhoon.”

  ”What about my little bakery? I have nowhere to go!” She did not cry. Though her face swarmed with anger.

  ”I-” Victor was relieved to be cut off, as he had no idea what he could say to calm her down.

  ”No! See, I am so grateful you were summoned here, what… a year ago? I am… But we need more than you now. We need a miracle. And not just here. I’ve heard what the forbidden book says. It-”

  ”Yes, then you know! And we don’t need to hear it no more!” He held her arms to calm her, as she didn’t seem to know what to do with them.

  Then it spoke, head and shoulders looming over the buildings.

  ”I am Hell Guardian, Abasi Orn!” A rumbling, raspy soreness flew over the rooftops. As he spoke he hoisted his right arm to the sky. From thin air formed a colossal hammer, clad in white metals, as if stolen from the heavens.

  Abasi Orn steadied his gaze.

  ”I seek the book of darkness. Give it to me. Or I must level this little dwelling of yours to the ground.” He hunched his back, posture hard as mountains. ”Well, who can bring it?” Dust flew about him as he exhaled.

  By some godgiven miracle his legs did not buckle under all that bodymass. Victor’s awe of the thing had no end, and his job was fighting demons, after all.

  Victor’s stare turned off, and he could see something move in his periphery. One of the old folk noticed Julius on the long stairway. His eyes were sprinting with panic, but the old man could only walk at a slow pace. The high priest. Julius smiled. Another one with the aid of a cane needing me today.

  ”Olur! What’s troubling you!?”

  Olur’s retort came ten seconds later. The weak, raspy voice could barely be heard through the monster’s breaths.

  ”Don’t mock me Sky Cleaver.” The old man was nearly one houndred years now. He gasped for air.

  ”Dropped your mask?” Said Julius. ”Look, sorry I asked. I have my duties here. It’s that time again. I have to get down there.”

  The frail old man glimmered of hope and despair, balancing.

  ”I know, boy. I know.” Olur coughed. ”But the book. What of the book!?” A wheezing breath turned to a violent attack of coughing.

  ”Don’t you worry priest! Have I ever let ’The Harp’ down?” Julius forced a transparent positive look to his face. ”Destiny awaits me!”

  Julius elusiveness to the question brought with it a cursed feeling in the air between them.

  ”Madness…” Olur spoke in a low tone, meant for himself.

  ”What was that, priest?!” Determined steps carried Julius toward the monastery, the beast visiting Red Harp always ominously in view, its shoulders hulked like a fleshy nightmare over the holy roof.

  Hooves quaked the soil. Terrified screams came from the poor families.

  Startled by the unexpected answer, Olur decided on going with Victor.

  ”Please lad, forgive me, wait. Wait! About that book! I need to know where…”

  ”You think you do, but no, you don’t! It’s best like this! Julius kept going but turned his head, not enough to see Olur.

  Olur looked to Julius with big eyes in horror as the distance between them increased, Julius sprinting downhill.

  The Skycleaver came to the sudden realisation; he may never see her again… He halted his back against the monastery wall. On the other side; a foe no human should have to face.

  ***

  ”Abasi!” The wind seemed to pause for that very moment in history. ”This is your last chance to turn back!” said Victor.

  The Hell Guardian snorted, its hooves digging at the ground. Arms hung along the legs, not held at the ready at all, and the two-hand hammer was planted head down on the ground.

  ”Come and be done with your best attempt at making me bleed, slayer,” said the minotaur.

  ”Have it then!”

  What was he thinking? Should have tried talking more. This was just a jester before a king, and no one was laughing.

  Victor ran towards the oversized opponent. Faked with his body. And again! He swung his sword. He would cripple the beast’s hand!

  Abasi Orn was on his way to grip the heavy headed mallet. The hollow eyes never left Victor. He simply retracted his hand, with lightning speed.

  Victor stumbled – Hit the handle of the hammer. His ’best attempt’ was deflected to the dirty ground, by a stationary damned weapon.

  Orn’s fist came next, sparing no time for the sword to be hoisted again, smacking down on the broad side of the blade, shattering it in half.

  ”Gaa-aahk!” Victor grunted as he felt the force of the blow surge through his arms. What just happened? Instincts drove him back, as his arms refused to obey his will. The gravely dust had all but settled when he felt the ground shake faster and closer. There was time to think, no time to act. He tried to roll away, but his feet never left their imprints. Dark horns appeared through the plume of sand. The impact was erased from Julius’s memory.

  To his shock he momentarily woke up in the air. He frowned and squinted slowly with one eye towards the damage – teeth grinding hard.

  ”No. No no!” He was caughing blood, but the amount was nothing compared to the wound.

  Unspeakable pain jabbed at his back, then setting up camp in the upper region of his body. The horn of Orn had passed straight through Victor’s shoulder.

  ”I must… I can’t…” His eyes shut. He felt one last surge of pain, as Orn pushed his limp body off. The hard desert ground showed no mercy.

  ***

  ”I have one message!” Orn roared, not looking at anyone in particular. He seemed to gaze far beyond the fighting pit. Then his eyes pinballed the stunned crowd. ”The gates of Hell…” Dirt flew as Orn blew out air. ”…are open!”

  Children and grown ups alike cried and screamed of horror. Many had wholeheartedly believed in Victor The Sky Cleaver Julius.

  The minotaur turned east, summoned his mighty hammer, leveled it to the ground, and a great crack was made, sending a quaking crevice, rattling in the direction of the great land of lush forest – The Kingdom of Oscabark.

  A creeping silence set in, with few scattered cries and moaning throughout the hamlet, there was an otherwise deathly feel to The Red Harp.

  Orn walked east, following his own mark. Just outside the village, a particularily strong gust of wind swept the minotaur in sand. And with it, he was gone.

  People started to wake from the trance. Rain came, assaulting the land and everything outside the fighting circle went from calm to chaos.

  ”Get the doctor!” A woman pleaded, holding her daughter tight by the wrist.

  Olur, the high priest whispered;

  ”Heavens protect Red Harp, our sanctuary, from damnation.” Looking to the sky, his expression seemed lost in the great void.

  A man seemed to have lost the last drop of his sanity in the well, as his fingers crept and pulled at his swelling beard, eyes ready to pop from his terrified skull.

  ”Is it raining blood, or is it a red sun rising!?” Swiping his forehead gave it away. ”Blood! Blood! Hell is upon us! It is already here, consuming all! We die here! Ahahahaa!”

  Madness – and it was contagious.

  Orn’s ears shifted back, as the sounds from Red Harp followed him to the realm between realms. The portal closed behind him and he slept on his journey to the other side of the world, driven ahead by the constant dream.