?A Life of Honor
For ArrowQuivershaft
By Draconicon





Kawheek stood between the approaching horde and the portal back to Hashinshira, his spear in hand and his wings unfurled to get their attention. The avian monk planted the butt of his spear in the rock, letting the demons come to the narrow point in the pass that led to the glowing doorway of light.
“You will go no further,” he said.
The demons, their movements as chaotic as their minds, came to a halt. They knew him. The Spear of Faenya, the Red Death, the Spear that Pierces the Pit. Many names, all his. None would be the first to step to their death, not if he was the one blocking the way.
Eventually, one of the other demons stepped forward, his eyes glinting in annoyance. Red skinned as the rest and winged with leathery, cracked limbs, he was almost more imp than proper demon. He carried a blade in one hand and the magic of Hell in the other.
“If you step aside, you will live.”
“And if I live, those I protect will die.”
“Heh, surely, your life matters more than any of theirs?”
“The educated mind says otherwise,” Kawheek said.
“You’ve taught yourself many things. Why not live to learn a few more?”
“Because unlike you, I am content with my lot in life.”
“Look, just get out of the way and we won’t - Nnngh!”
The demon had come too close, and Kawheek’s spear had been too quick. The cold iron at the tip slid free easily, and the demon collapsed to the ground, bleeding black blood onto hot stone.
He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. His point had been made, his ground had been chosen.
The other demons looked at their fallen comrade, their little brains measuring the odds of success. There was every possibility that they could fly over him, relying on their superior numbers to get at least some through the portal, but such a thing would mean that many of them would die. He was winged as well, and everyone knew what he could do. How fast he was. How deadly the tip of his spear would be. A single flick would cause immeasurable agony to any demon, sending them falling right back to the ground that spawned them.
And they couldn’t rush him. Not on this ground.
The red-tailed hawk spun his spear, planting it in place once more. The cold iron on the other end clicked against the stone.
“You will go no further. Hashinshira will stand.”
“Only for as long as you do,” another voice said.
Kawheek looked over the heads of the demon soldiers, shaking his head as he spotted the demon lord that had amassed them. Under the banner of this great lord of the pit, they marched. His friends had already fled, running to the mortal world to summon aid, to close the portal, to do anything possible to delay this creature that they could.
It was up to him to give them the time to do it.
There was no turning back. Their fear of him would not hold, not with their master at their backs.
A whip of fire appeared in the demon lord’s hand. He swung it, cracking the air like thunder.
“Forward!”
With a roar, the demons followed the order, lunging into the gap like water runs downhill.
Kawheek stared at them as they came, time slowing around him. He closed his eyes, running his hand along the edge of his spear. The blade at the very tip cut the end of his finger, and he anointed it with his blood.
“Faenya...fly with me this day.”
He opened his eyes, and time - and the demons - came crashing down on him.
Swing, crack. The iron ball on the blunt end caved in the head of one demon, continued to spin, catching the shoulder of another. They fell, tripping a third.
He ducked, avoided the first sword, stabbed and pulled. Another body hit the floor.
Caught the next pair of swords, kicked them back, sliced the spear around in a spinning move. Cut three throats at once.
The demons kept coming, running over the bodies of their fellows. Kawheek kept stabbing, spinning, cutting.
And unfortunately, retreating.
The tunnel of rock around him kept them from getting behind him, but there were so many that they were able to rise overhead. Some jumped down, trying to impale him from above, while others threw things at him to bludgeon him, bruise him, break him so that the other demons would have a free shot.
The bird did his best, but some still got through.
A minute into the fight, one eye was bruised and bloodied, a rock coming within a centimeter of cutting the eye itself. One arm was battered and nearly broken, barely able to give a bit of spin-speed to the spear when he moved. Blood ran from minor cuts and scrapes all across his chest, but still he fought.
The demons pushed him back inch by inch, and he made them pay by the dozens for every foot of distance that they gained. His talons scraped on bloody rock, black-blood footprints left behind as he pulled back. The edge of his spear had gone from soft iron to dark midnight, and still they kept coming, the crack of the flame whip driving them forward.
Ten feet, twenty, thirty they pushed him back. Sixty, eighty, one hundred demons died at his hand.
Shut the portal. Please. Shut it. Save the people. Save Hashinshira, he thought, his breath coming faster than he’d like, his body getting pushed to its absolute limits.
They pushed him past the tunnel, forcing him into the open ground just ahead of the portal. Giving up the cover that the rock walls had granted him, he leaped backwards, buying himself space.
The demons followed, and those that were at the front were immediately impaled on the edge of his spear. He shrieked like the bird he was as he drove them to the ground, impaling three.
They held his spear, forcing him to let go, forcing him to fight with hands and feet. His talons cut throats with every kick, the flesh of demons flying with every blow.
He jumped over two attackers from the sides, coming down and clawing out their spines. Blood flowed, blinding him.
CRACK!
The first true hit got him, a head-sized rock that had been thrown by someone further back. It knocked him off balance, blinding him in one eye.
The demons came faster than ever, one of them throwing a spear. It arced through the air and came down -
“AGH!”
Right in his shoulder. That arm went from barely there to dead, no sensation from the shoulder down.
Kawheek panted as the demons continued to advance, their dead bothering them not at all. They just...kept...coming.
But the light...the light was changing.
He looked over his shoulder, a rueful smile growing on his face as the portal began to shrink. His friends had made the danger clear, and now…
They will be safe.
The demons paused, paused long enough for him to retrieve the spear from their bodies. He hefted it in his one good hand, deliberately cutting the other spear out of his dead arm. He advanced on their force, holding his spear aloft.
“Hashinshira stands! You have lost, demons! You have lost!”
“Somebody kill him!”
The demons rushed for him, driven by their own anger as much as their fear at this point. Kawheek smiled, feeling the delusions that came with blood loss threatening his thoughts. He felt almost invincible, as if he could never lose.
Such thoughts were ever the detriment to a mortal, of course. Every monk knew that. Every monk knew that no matter their power, no matter their skill, there was always someone better. They knew that life always had an end.
Kawheek knew that, as well. He had seen death come at the most unexpected times, and hold its hand in the most amazing of circumstances. The red-tailed hawk gave his spear one last twirl as the demons came, summoning the last of his reserves, the last of his chi, and the last of his strength.
He could not fly, but he could jump. He leaped over their hoard, running from head to head among the demon horde. Swords cut along his legs, slashed at his thighs and his knees, everywhere. He blocked it out, forcing his body to keep moving, his chi taking the place of muscles that were slashed and tendons that were severed.
The bird crossed the entire army, running back through the pass, right at the demon lord at the very back of the army. The whip of fire came up again, blazing in the darkness with a horrifying light.
There was no way that he could win, but he would make them remember his name.
The Spear that Pierces the Pit took his last leap, his lame arm dragging behind him as he thrust forward against the demon lord. He shrieked in the war cry of the birds as he stabbed his spear forward. The cold iron pierced the eye of the demon as the red stripes of fire came down across Kawheek’s back.
He lost his weapon as he was knocked to the ground. A dozen blades pierced his back, then another, and another, each one pinning him to the ground and bleeding him dry.
The monk died with a smile on his face and the screams of Hell’s finest ringing in his ears.





The End