Authors: Gareth K Pengelly
This was a duel to end all duels.
The whipping link of lightning broke apart with a crackle of dissipating power, for the contest was getting neither of them anywhere. A snarl from the Seeress and Gwenna dove to one side, a bolt of dark fire scorching past her to shatter flagstones with its wrath. She returned fire, a hail of piercing bolts of flame careening forth, only to be hurled aside by an invisible barrier. She rose to her feet, tense, ready for the next exchange.
“No need for this…” the Seeress told her. “My offer still stands…”
Gwenna sneered.
“So does mine.”
The Seeress drew her arm across in front of her, and Gwenna turned, startled, a heavy block of stone tearing itself free from the edge of the pyramid and soaring through the air towards her. A surge of mental effort and a bolt of lightning lanced out, the heavy block exploding into fragments just before it hit her, the storm of shrapnel sending her to the ground in pain. She struggled to rise, brushing her red curls out of her face, a thin trickle of blood down her forehead from a cut to her scalp.
She went to stand, but another bolt of dark lightning struck out towards her. Tired, she whipped up her own hands, her own energy licking out, stopping the eldritch tongue from touching her, but only just. She poured her strength into the lightning, trying to force the energies away from
her, but she was on the ground, tired, weakening, and the Seeress drew closer, lips in a twisted grin of evil as she forced the contesting forks of lightning closer to her weary foe.
“I’ve waited a long time for this, girl…” spat Ceceline, feet away now, and closing. “A pity. I expected you to last longer.”
The shaman strained, sweating beneath the onslaught, barely keeping the powers at bay.
“Sorry to disappoint you…”
How could she win this? How could she defeat her opponent, whose reserves of energy seemed so limitless? The thought suddenly struck her.
The battlefield of the mind…
Only a foot of lightning, black and silver energies swirling about each other in a storm of broiling power, separated the two women’s hands now. Gwenna leapt up, closer, palms against those of her opponent, fingers interlocked as the energies exploded outwards in a thunderclap of released power.
She opened her mind, surging into that of her foe, confident now, with Wrynn’s wisdom and experience behind her, that this time she would prove victorious.
Only as the soft lips and blue eyes of her foe twisted into a mocking grin did she realise her mistake…
***
“They’re retreating… they’re giving up!”
The ecstatic cries of the Guardsman began to spread like wildfire through the army of men, trepidation turning to jubilation in a heartbeat, but Arbistrath held up his hand to silence the cheers.
“Fool! Do you forget so easily? Look at them…”
The troops did as he commanded, gazing out at the demon spawn that milled about, mewling like kittens as though in fear. They swarmed about the motionless Iron constructs, howling and clutching at the larger demons as though pleading for mercy, before a great flash of fire and the stench of brimstone scorched the air.
The demon spawn had disappeared.
It was Marlyn who voiced that which they all thought.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”
Just as they feared, the tell-tale threads of red hellfire began to streak across the stone before them, the Iron constructs striding away to a respectful distance as they awaited the arrival of yet another titanic demon.
An explosion, the flagstones ripped to pieces amidst fire and smoke as the creature crawled into existence from beyond the veil. A gasp from the army, for was this not the very same demon they’d vanquished a thousand feet below at the battle of the bridge? The beast loomed high, standing upon the platform on cloven feet, great curved horns that sprouted from its blind head rearing a hundred feet above them as it roared with a rage that knew no bounds and a hunger for vengeance that would soon be sated.
It took a step towards them, shaking the structure beneath their feet, gazing down, seeing them with a sight that required nothing so mundane as eyes as it laughed. The sound sent a ripple of fear through the ranks.
Alann countered it.
“Hold,” he told them. “We defeated this beast once before. We can do so ag-“
He was cut off as the creature swung a massive taloned hand towards them. The fist struck the barrier of magic and paused momentarily, but then continued on, the shrieking, rippling air parting like tissue before its might. A scream of pain from the shamans as the magical feedback washed over them, its epicentre on Pol, who stood, arms still outstretched, mouth open in horror.
And then exploded.
Marlyn blinked in disbelief, even as he felt the wetness dripping down his face. Was this the sweat of fear? He reached up with tentative fingers. They came away crimson with the blood of the young shaman. He wretched, grew pale, fell to his hands and knees, what little bile that remained in his body spewing out onto the floor as his body railed against the horror of what had just happened. He looked up, blinking away the tears that stung his eyes, then regretted it as he spied the other shamans that had been aiding Pol rolling and crawling about in agony, smoking and screaming.
One such poor wretched gazed towards him with burning, empty holes where his eyes used to be. Help me, he mouthed. Help… then collapsed to the floor in merciful death. Marlyn lay on the floor, mind going numb with shock, arms clasped about his weapon as though ‘twere a child’s bear as he rocked back and forth in the foetal position on the ground.
In his shock, he didn’t hear the valiant cries of his Lord Arbistrath, calling the Tulador Guards to action. Nor did he see the demon flinching beneath the golden blasts of power, before growing angry at the insolent noble, swatting him away with a talon to be dashed and broken against a statue at the edge of the platform.
He never saw the futile heroics of the Foresters, led by Iain, who unleashed hails of bowfire that spattered harmlessly against the demon’s muscled torso, before they themselves were flattened by a hoof the size of a house.
He didn’t see the crazed charge of the Woodsman’s Four, who sprinted towards the beast that dwarfed them, weapons brandished as they spurred the men by example. Never knew the passing of Elerik, the Farmer, whose broadsword shattered like a toy against the monster’s ankle, before he was trodden on, squashed into nothing by a thousand tons of flesh. Would never hear about the valiant charge of Naresh the Servant, impaled on the iron point of a Centaur’s lance as he strove to turn it about and trick it into falling off the side of the platform. Nor would he ever get to tell the tale of Narlen, the Plainsman, who threw his Hruti to one side, throwing the Woodsman high into the air, before the hurled weapon of an Iron Giant clove him in twain.
And, worst of all, he would never see the inspiring final moments of the Woodsman himself, soaring through the air as he cast his axe towards the face of the demon. The silver bladed weapon flew, end over end, unerring in its flight, ready to smash its foe and unravel its being with a single wound. But at the last instant, a black talon had swept across, knocking the weapon aside as though it were a gnat, a nuisance, to clatter, harmless and broken, against the stone.
Alann had landed in a crouch, before the beast, his last effort thwarted, unable to comprehend what had so quickly come to pass. For this was not how it should be. The beast had picked him up, black talons cruelly piercing him, mortal wounds inflicted by the mere curiosity of the beast as it examined him like a curious bug, before hurling him from the tower, to disappear into the clouds.
Marlyn saw none of this. Lost in his catatonia he didn’t hear the victorious bellows of the demon, nor did he see the systematic slaughter of the army about him, the metronome lances and broadswords of the Iron constructs rising and falling, ending lives as they strode.
A shadow loomed over his crouched form.
A demon, dark and evil, a hundred feet tall.
But Marlyn would never know the manner of his demise.
***
The darkness. The evil. A malice that stretched back a million years, a billion, further, back beyond even the birth of time itself. This is what Gwenna encountered. She’d engaged the Seeress, thinking to battle on an even playing field, soul to soul. But she hadn’t factored something into her tactic.
Ceceline had lost her soul a very long time ago.
Oh, our dear Gwenna. How naïve, how young, how rash. You think your shaman master gave you wisdom? Child, your master even now spends an eternity down here with us. Oh, the torments. Can you hear him, screaming? Can you hear his pain?
She could. Oh, but she could. Where was Stone? Why was he not here, aiding them in their moment of need?
Stone?
The whispers laughed, mocking.
He is lost, girl. Taken, snatched, hurled away into the void, powerless and alone. There will be no last second rescue. No dashing prince on a white charger. This is no fairy tale, child.
She was cracking. She could feel the evil seeping through every tiny gap in her mental wall, forcing down the barriers, bringing her down from within and sifting through her every memory, her every secret, ripping her apart from inside her own mind.
You can kill us. You can take this world. You can even take the Earth, she thought, raging against them in her last moments. But there will always be someone to stand up for what is right.
Laughter again.
You think you are the first to learn of us? The first world to rise against us and try to stop our conquest? We have seen a million such worlds rise up in their ignorance, but you cannot hold us back, any more than you can stop the night following the day. For every single one of us cast back into hell, there are a million more clamouring to take his place.
We outnumber the ranks of the living, child. We will never stop. We will always win.
This galaxy has burnt. And so will the next.
For we are legion.
These last words were the last things her mind could process, before the final dregs of her consciousness were torn apart and devoured by the gibbering entities that clawed beyond the veil.
Her brain dead body fell to the floor in an unceremonious heap and Ceceline looked down upon her, a look flashing across her face that almost seemed, for an instant, like regret, before being cast aside and replaced by a sinister smile of triumph. The Seeress raised her hands to the sky.
Events had come to pass exactly as they had been fated.
Above her, the sky rippled, shadowy forms phasing in and out of existence as the Veil parted, the pocket dimension that held the infernal legions opening forth to disgorge its troops, ready to enter the Portal and bring forth Hell upon the Earth.
The end was nigh. And no force in the universe could stop it.
***
No.
Chapter Nine:
It was Marlyn who voiced that which they all thought.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”
Just as they feared, the tell-tale threads of red hellfire began to streak across the stone before them, the Iron constructs striding away to a respectful distance as they awaited the arrival of yet another titanic demon.
An explosion, the flagstones ripped to pieces amidst fire and smoke as the creature crawled into existence from beyond the veil. A gasp from the army, for was this not the very same demon they’d vanquished a thousand feet below at the battle of the bridge? The beast loomed high, standing upon the platform on cloven feet, great curved horns that sprouted from its blind head rearing a hundred feet above them as it roared with a rage that knew no bounds and a hunger for vengeance that would soon be sated.
It took a step towards them, shaking the structure beneath their feet, gazing down, seeing them with a sight that required nothing so mundane as eyes as it laughed. The sound sent a ripple of fear through the ranks.