The stronghold Stoneheight was some miles east of the nearest city, Stomengrasg. At full capacity, it could house five hundred men and women in comfort. Standing on top of a lofty hill overlooking a vast prairie, and with ancient stone walls erected far above the hill’s foot, only fools and trained armies dared think of storming the place.

An iron gate opened to the sloping side of the hill, and from inside, emerged a band of knights riding in single file. As soon as the heavy gate shut closed, they immediately began their descent to the prairie. They were ten in numbers. An ordinary-sized squad.

Leading them was Captain Suvillan, a man of large frame and dark expression. A black stallion carried him, and on his back was a silver hilted greatsword.

The Fahlecain twins followed behind as they always do. They were a great pair of fighters, though more apt to fight bandits than demons. Their skills in dealing with human bodies were a thing to be feared.

Except for one, each of the knights bore rough and heavy metal armor, a sword and a large tower shield. Unlike other ranks of soldiery, knights were built to endure supernatural assaults, which indeed was their job.

Last of the line was Hector. Compared to others, his equipment was light and his horse favored speed unlike most of the squad. His leather armor, however, could still be considered overarmored for his skillsets as a ranger.

When they were still crossing the prairie, it was his duty to cover the tail of the squad, watching out for any undesired company tailing them. But no such thing appeared.

Then the knights entered the woods, though their horses walked the King Road still.

The King Road connected all big cities, strongholds and all sorts of large settlements together. On paper, this road too was a duty for the knights to patrol, but as their hands were filled with dealing with outlaws and demons. Most of the actual patrols were performed by standing soldiers of each city.

Now that they had entered the woods, Hector rode a mile ahead of the squad to scout. His eyes traced the faintest movements in the darkness on both sides of the road. And his ears awaited. He might not have the eyes of an archer like his childhood friend Eva, but in recognizing strange signs in the wind, few men could rival him.

There were times when he was startled by animals lurking in the woods and had reached for his crossbow against the rustling of leaves from high above. Or when some branches cracked almost nearby, he would have his sword drawn readily. But the path through the woods was mostly uneventful. Then beyond the woods, they rode some more along a river running southwest.

They followed the river until the sun had fallen to redness and halfway down the skyline. Up to that point, the knights had been riding swiftly for some hours. And before darkness could fully envelop the world, they went off the King Road and towards the mountain range. One could hardly see the peaks, as the Moons were the only light source left in the late afternoon. They found the marks left by the scouts and approached with care their destination.

About a mile from their final destination, Captain Sullivan signalled the squad to a stop and gave an order to leave their horses behind. All knights fastened their horses against sturdy trees. As he had a mean to call upon his horse at will, Hector’s one was allowed to run free, so it walked some distance to a patch of grass not so far away from the rest and grazed there. Then the knights marched on foot, one after another in deep darkness and silence. Hector was still leading them. Although he could see fairly well in the dark, better than the rest with his trained eyes, darkness is still darkness, never the domain for men to tread all carefree.

It wasn’t his first mission in the dark. Contrary to popular belief, demons aren’t particularly active at night, or sleep in the morning. In fact, they don’t care for the time of the day at all, to them nights and days are not so much different. There were missions, like this one, where, no matter by day or night, they have to rush to eliminate the demons when they are still concentrated in one place in great number. According to the intel, there was a horde of Cambions under the mountain. They couldn’t have asked for a better chance to slay those nefarious beings en masse.

The silence deepened when the entrance to a cave appeared under the faint moonlight – The intel was true. None of the knights dared breath harder than the faintest wind. It was a still night and the wind was dead.

Ten men crawled up to the cave. They cringed at the sharp noises of their thick leather boots grinding against hard rocks. But they came to the entrance and no resistance was found. It seemed a natural cave. Darkness ran deep and bottomless, no torch, no candle. They would have to venture inside with their own light.

Hector expanded his mind for a few seconds. Before long, he came in contact with a spirit of light just outside of the entrance. “Let there be, a warning light,” Hector whispered to the spirit. Then light emerged from his palm. It was weak, no more than a ball of moonlight shining through layers of glass panes, but enough to illuminate a little of the path ahead of them.

Then he went into the cave, sword drawn at the ready. He could feel captain Sullivan followed right behind, but none of the other knights, they had masked their presence well despite their heavy armors.

There were times when the tunnel seemed to go up shortly, but most of the time, it dove deeper and deeper into the ground under the mountain. Then all of a sudden, there were movements ahead.

Sounds of metal – a sword was drawn. They could see no farther than the sphere of light around them. But ahead, at what appeared to be a sharp turn of the tunnel, they could see the warm orange light of fire resting on the tunnel's wall. With a deep but quiet breath, Hector readied for the first encounter tonight.

He shut his own magic light with a wave of hand. He saw now the warm light's source. A lantern. A man went round the corner with his sword bared, he walked with some hesitation.

The man, or at least the thing in man shape widened its pupils. Red pupils.

Hector made a quick rush towards the enemy. His feet were light and made no sound. The demon swung its sword madly at him.

At the last moment, its sword shattered against something, caught onto it and briefly stuck. In that small window of opportunity, Hector ran deep his sword. Then pierced through flesh out the other side.

With all its weight, the demon collapsed.

As Hector disengaged his magical buckler, which the enemy’s sword had struck, and retrieved his sword from the lifeless bodies, the knights approached from behind. Captain Sullivan picked up the lantern by the dead body and put it to the death’s face.

“Scarlet eyes,” he whispered the first words since they entered the cave.

The elder of the Fahlecain twins came and pressed his foot on the still chest and sunk it down until the cracking of ribs could be heard. “Too fragile,” he said, “what manner of demon is this?”

“A cambion,” Sullivan said and distinguished the lantern with his gloved hand, “Descendants of demons. The intel was right so far. But if so, this place is not so guarded as expected.”

“This place is away from sight,” said the twin, “the fools think they are safe under the mountain.”

Another rib cracked.

“Quiet!” hissed Hector, then he whispered, “footsteps!”

Indeed there were, as small as the sound of water dripping, but the dull and repetitive sounds of someone running away from them could be heard.

“It goes to alarm others!” cried a knight.

To his feet and then with the bow in hand, Hector rose and aimed. But his arrow missed its mark and struck uselessly at the rock wall.

“Ready your weapon. After it!” roared captain Sullivan.

There was no more need to be discreet. The rest of the demons would soon know of the raid. The element of surprise was quickly running out.

“Charge!”

Ten knights ran in full armor, weapons in hand. A magical light illuminated their path. And they run deep and deep down the mountain until thundering footsteps echoed from ahead.

From the corner, emerged shapes – humanoid shapes. Their forms were twisted, their arms and legs were elongated with claws. Red eyes glowed. They lunged at the knights with superhuman strength. Flashing ahead of them were claws sharpers than steel blades.

“Take my breath,” all knights chanted at once, “for strength!”. Their shields raised high, and so was the tension. Moments before the impact, the spells took effect: they felt their stamina drained, in exchange power rushed their veins, stung their muscles.

Loud were the crashes. Claws clashed with shields. Demonic bones met human steel.

As for Hector’s part, the ethereal buckle disintegrated right after clashing with a demon’s claw. He turned, allowed the demon’s momentum to carry it on passing him. His sword struck its back. Newly acquired strength ran deep the strike, rendered nigh unbreakable bones as useless as rotten wood. Cleanly, it cut the demon in half.

Then with a sidestep, Hector withdrew to behind the wall of shields. Another knight filled in his spot in the formation, leaving no opening for the demons to penetrate their formation to their side of the tunnel.

Five knights covered the breadth of the tunnel. There, with superhuman strength, they pushed back the demons. One dark shape rolled onto another as the demons stumbled backwards. Battle roars echoed. The vanguards struck with their swords, shattered fleshes and tough bones.

Hector sheathed his sword and drawn the crossbow. He peered into the dark ahead and whispered to enlarge his light.

Then came the second wave.

“In sharp tip, there be fire,” spelt Hector, then from his crossbow an arrow flew. It hit a shoulder, yet lacked might to stop the charge. But the arrow tip exploded, covered the demon’s upper half with raging flames.

They came unrelenting, unwavering in a mix of battle cries and beastly roars. And clashed with the row of shields just as the knights had returned to their defensive position.

Five demons and five knights. And one more – a demon that had been knocked down before, not yet dead, for the wound struck by the knights was shallowed. It leapt. It crunched a leg of the knight before it, shoved him down. His cry echoed the tunnel. A Fahlecain twin came forward, brought down his sword, and hacked the demon’s head away. Another knight filled in the shield walls. Hector rushed to pull the wounded away. His leg had been torn apart. He had become useless. With pity, the ranger examined his wound. But there was nothing more he could do until the combat is over, so he returned to behind the frontline and readied another bolt.

While the man wailed in pain in the back, the battle went on. Another exchange of blows, more demons fell. This time the knights made no more mistakes.

But now came thundering noises, the ground shook: a meaner one was coming.

It showed up soon after. The whole tunnel before them was hidden behind its frame. Its shoulders rose high. Four legs dug into the ground as it charged. Long tusks twice the size of their swords protrude from either side of its mouth. Dark fur covered it. Its eyes in the scarlet color. Clear as day more than just an oversized boar.

“HOLD!” cried Captain Sullivan.