Pitt climbed out of the tunnels at the bottom of the underworld. He looked up at the streaked sky. How was he going to get out of there?

He thought he saw where the hole had been carved from the real world to this place. It hovered in the middle of the cloudy air. Could he force his way back home through there?

Maybe he shouldn't have knocked the tower over to make the demons rethink their ways.

Pitt looked at the cones reaching up where he wanted to go. Maybe he could use those to get up to where he needed to be.

This was one of the few times he regretted not asking for the ability to fly. Being stronger than his enemies had always seemed more important.

He shook his head. He hadn't realized what he had asked for when he had joined the Brotherhood. Others had asked for more powerful skills. Most had wound up being killed by the monsters they faced for their patrons.

Being able to cut his enemy down faster than his enemy could do the same had saved his life more than once.

Pitt checked the angles with his hands. He thought he could reach the platform the tower had been on with a few ricochets. He looked around. The demons had cleared out to let him have his way.

None of them wanted to face the man who had killed the king. They were thinking about how to pick the next king so they could go back to business as usual.

He bent down to jump to the first cone. He straightened his legs and rocketed into the air. He hit the first cone. A punch sent him careening across the sky. He hit the next cone and went upwards. He had to grab the stone of the platform and dig in with his fingers.

He was a little short he decided.

He pulled himself up to the top of the platform. He got his feet under him and scanned the sky for the hole. He found it after a few moments of looking. He could jump to it, but he had no way to hang on long enough to punch through the hole.

He needed a way to hover in the sky.

Pitt looked around for some inspiration. There had to be something here he could use to reach up to that spot in the sky. He frowned as he considered the area he stood in.

Maybe he could use the platform he stood on as a way to get a momentary spot to attack the hole in the air.

The scheme was stupid. There was no way the rock could carry him up there and remain in place long enough for him to punch a door open.

Maybe he shouldn't have punched Skaren's head into flying flinders. The magician could have flown them out of the underworld with the right incentive.

He could have punched the man's head off on the other side of the door.

Pitt measured the angles in his head, using his hand. He thought maybe he could make his mad scheme work if he timed it just right, and if he could actually punch the spell so it reversed itself.

He reviewed things he knew from his time fighting the giants. He bounced on his feet. He could do this. He just needed the right angle.

He really wished he had learned to fly during that time.

Pitt grabbed the platform with both hands. He kicked and snapped off a section he could use for the first part of his plan.

He threw the section of stone into the air. He bent his legs and leaped up after it before it flew too far away. He used his hands to get his feet under him as the rock kept going. It looked like he had a few seconds for a right, then left, combination.

This might work after all.

He had done something like this before, but he hadn't needed to fly. He had used a piece of wall to slide down a mountain side after losing a battle south of the Highlands he now called home.

Wounded demigods had slid down with him as the giant in question unleashed hounds on them.

They had recovered and went back and killed the giant later. He had grown marginally stronger between the encounters. That added strength had made a difference for the Brotherhood.

The hole in the sky approached Pitt. He braced himself. He wouldn't get a second chance if he missed.

He struck with his right. He punched through the thin membrane that remained of the summoning circle. He pivoted and threw his left. That carried him into the tunnel of light. He slid through the pipe and fell out where he had left Beaver and his friend.

He rolled away from the closing hole before he lost a foot to it. He lay on his back and took a deep breath. It looked like the sky was turning pink on the horizon. He smiled. Daylight was bringing relief to the city.

Pitt lay on his back and watched the sky for a time. He didn't know how long he took, but he refused to move. He wanted to enjoy the peace of the morning despite the dead bodies around him.

The majority had been set on fire from the casual look he gave them. He wondered if Beaver's girlfriend had done the damage somehow. Some of the bodies had been stabbed.

He decided that he should move away from the abattoir and wash the blood off. He also needed a new shirt and a coat.

He stood up and inspected the scene. He saw what happened in his mind's eye. He had a lot of experience looking at battle scenes and figuring what had happened by what was left behind.

Beaver and his girlfriend had been hanging to one side when he had come through. He had entered the summoning circle and temporarily reversed it to pass through to the other side. Neil had followed him. Someone had come on the scene and banished the demons that were nearby.

The cleric had drawn too much power to himself and exploded with his god's power. He had entered the circle to make his death count for something. Then someone had stabbed and dealt with the magicians that had not died from the fire blasting them.

Beaver and the girl had been cut down at one point. He expected the girl had been the magician.

Three sets of prints walked away from the scene. They headed toward where he had left the woman cleric defending her house with the god word added to her prayers.

Pitt decided that things were going back to normal. It would take a long time for the city to recover after something like this. He had no idea how to help out. He should head for home.

He had done his part as far as he could tell.

The worst part was he didn't know where he was. He had no idea where the Highlands were from where he was. Naturally Montague was nowhere in sight to give him a hand home.

That was the worst part of fighting someone else's battles. Once the fight was done, you were stuck hoofing it back to where you lived instead of instant transmission.

Pitt found a fountain after some walking. The water looked clear to him. He tore a piece off his ragged shirt and soaked it. He used that to wash his face. He squeezed the bloody water out of the rag on the street. He dropped the piece of cloth when he was done.

He didn't know where he was, but he thought if he made it to a gate without too many problems he could find a sign to tell him where he was. He could plan his trip when he had that vital piece of information.

He doubted anyone would answer the door to someone who looked like he did now. That would be asking too much in his opinion. Maybe when the city had forgotten what had happened strangers at the door would be considered safer than not.

He didn't hold it against them. They had suffered a night of monsters wandering loose and killing anyone who got in their way.

He decided that he could climb up on a wall and look around. Maybe he would see a landmark he could use to orient himself for his long walk home.

He used the walls on either side of an alley to climb up to the roofs. He looked around. The city had gaping scars across it. He shook his head. How many had died because of Neil's stupid plan.

At least the magician would never do anything like this again.

Pitt saw a wall. Beyond that was the open road. He doubted horses had been left alive. The demons would have eaten them as a matter of course.

Between him and that wall was a mass of fallen buildings, dead bodies, wreckage, and roving knights and clerics. They would be looking for demons to fight now that the tide had turned.

He hadn't been needed at all from the looks of things. The city's defenders had saved the day without him.

He saw a wrecked clothing shop a few streets over. He wondered if they had a shirt that would fit him. He could pick up a coat when he was on his way.

He crossed the roofs until he was above where the shop stood. He descended to the street and looked through the window. He shook his head at the lack of finished materials on display. He doubted the tailor was around to make a shirt for him.

He didn't want to rob dead bodies, but they didn't need a shirt and he did.

He started walking. Something would present itself to him.