Tribulation (24 page)

He recognized
it then. Well, maybe not exactly what it was but he had a fairly
good idea. It was a Cambion, like the half-human, half-Lemure he’d
encountered earlier. But different. This creature was half-human
alright, but it certainly wasn’t half-Lemure.

Much like Sam,
it looked almost completely human. He. It was definitely male,
albeit slightly larger than normal. He appeared slightly bigger
than Sam – maybe just a few inches, but Sam knew that that extra
reach would count when they crossed blades. Long limbs were
connected to a powerful torso that tapered into a narrow waist, all
completely encased in black armor. In fact, if it wasn’t for the
small black wings (which appeared far too small to be functional)
and the horns jutting from its head, it would have passed for human
- once again, much like Sam. He knew which demon had mated with a
human then. It had to be the spawn of some Prince or Princess.
Definitely some form of demon royalty at any rate and, by
definition, something to be wary of. This creature would not be as
easily overcome as some half-Lemure hybrid.

And overcome it
must be. Sam had no option. The only door out of the place was the
one the Cambion had come through, and the only window was next to
the creature. Basically, the only way out was through it. Fight it
was. There was no mistaking the intent of the creature as it
stalked towards him on long legs, flicking a long dark strand of
hair out of it face and drawing a slim black blade as it moved.

Sam didn’t have
time for this. He wanted to end this quickly before more demons
were alerted by the noise. He strongly suspected his father had
sent this demon after him. After all, his glamor was still in
place. How else would it have found him?

He drew both
swords and struck out using the momentum from the draw, so fluid
and blindingly fast it appeared to be only one motion. As he
attacked, the words of Miyamoto Musashi came to him: when the enemy
attacks and you also decide to attack, hit with your body, and hit
with your spirit, and hit from the Void with your hands,
accelerating strongly.

In his
arrogance, he assumed that would be the end of it. He could imagine
the creature may be able to parry one sword, but two? To his
surprise, he found himself fighting for his life. The Cambion
parried both blades with casual ease. The riposte almost took out
Sam’s eye, the tip of the creature’s sword missing by the barest
measure. He smelled iron.

The Cambion
came for him again. Sam darted to the side, desperately bringing
his Katana down and across to block the vicious swing. Amazingly,
he was too slow, unprepared and sluggish. Not by much but it was
enough. His opponent’s blade snuck through his defense and tagged
him neatly on the chest, slicing straight through his sweatshirt
and into the fragile flesh beneath. The blade bit. It was shallow
but stung more than it should have. Instinctively, Sam knew that
this blade was much like the one possessed by his brother, probably
not as powerful but still able to draw the life-force out of
whomever it cut.

Sam jumped
back, reassessing the situation. The Cambion paused for a moment
and smiled knowingly. Sam didn’t bother returning the gesture. It
was a waste of time posturing. The Cambion probably expected him to
fight conventionally, content to let his sword do the work,
watching his opponent become steadily weakened. Instead, Sam did
the unexpected and feinted then reversed his blades, striking out
simultaneously with both at completely different angles. No doubt
his foe would be aware of Sam’s abilities but perhaps not his
unpredictability.

As he
suspected, the Cambion was caught unawares. It did remarkably well
under the circumstances however, even managing to block one of
Sam’s blades with a speed that Sam suspected wasn’t far from his
own. As quick as it was though, it wasn’t quick enough. Sam’s
smaller blade – the Wakizashi – took the creature just under the
ribcage. Sam angled it up sharply though, plunging it directly into
the Cambion’s heart.

They were face
to face, so close Sam could smell its sulfurous breath. For a
moment, nothing happened. Sam didn’t expect it to disintegrate into
a plume of ash like a normal Lemure. Higher ranked demons seemed to
have a tendency to remain on Earth upon their death. What happened
next though was completely unprecedented in Sam’s experience.
First, the Cambion smiled at him, then without preamble, it simply
disappeared. No ash. No nothing. One second the Cambion was right
next to him with his sword buried in its chest, the next, gone.

Sam blinked in
surprise. “Well, that was different,” he muttered.

He took a
moment to reflect and to assess, breathing more heavily than
normal. His injury wasn’t bad but was still leaking blood. Usually
an injury like this would have healed by now, but the Cambion’s
blade wasn’t normal. Experience had taught him that the injury
would heal eventually – probably. He hoped. The last injury he’d
had like this had taken Satan himself to heal. He felt a little
weak and light-headed but he reckoned he’d be alright.

Then he cast
around with his mind. Now that he knew what to look for, he could
sense them. Just. They were obviously trying to conceal themselves
with a similar glamor to his own, but they weren’t quite strong
enough to resist his scrying. They probably couldn’t detect him
because their mind states showed no alarm. Four more of them. They
were just now arriving outside the motel. Maybe the one he’d just
killed had got here before the others, sent like the others by his
father. That one had probably just been a little quicker or a
little keener than the others. Sam smiled. Served him right.

Yet he’d
managed to dispatch one of them with some difficulty. Sam suspected
a further four of them would be more than his match. Discretion
became the better part of valor.

Heedless of the
noise it caused, Sam made his own exit, kicking through the thin
walls and into the room next door. Not slowing, he charged through
the next wall and the one after that. The repeated impact hurt –
how could it not? He was certainly no Horned Demon accustomed to
smashing through stud partitions like they were paper. His leading
shoulder ached. It felt like he’d dislocated it. No matter, it
would heal. More disturbing was the blood he could feel dribbling
down his torso. The wound from the Cambion’s sword still hadn’t
closed up, and he probably wasn’t doing it any favors mowing down
buildings.

At the limits
of his endurance now, he ploughed through two more walls. He could
discern that the other Cambions still out there, still waiting.
They probably thought their comrade was still in furious combat
with him and so far, they seemed content to wait for their victor
to emerge. It was a lucky break for Sam, and one that he wasn’t
about to squander.

He thought for
a moment about calling for Yeth but dismissed the idea almost
immediately, crushing it quickly so that Yeth would not read his
unconscious desire and come for him in any case. His Hellhound
would not help him here. In fact, the presence of such a mighty
creature would act as a beacon for every other demon in the
vicinity, so Yeth would have to emerge from the nearby church and
battle every other demon that crossed his path between there and
Sam’s current position. It would take too long. Not only that, but
Sam wasn’t convinced about how effective the great demon would be
against these Cambions. They probably possessed his innate flame
resistance and seemed unnervingly handy with their blades. Hell
hounds didn’t have many weaknesses but as Sam had discovered long
ago, a blade punched through their eye would kill them just as
effectively as any other creature.

He couldn’t
bring himself to put Yeth at risk. He’d get out of this mess by
himself.

Staggering,
bloodied and covered with plaster and ash, he kicked through the
wall in front of him. Or tried to. Big mistake. It was the outer
wall, solidly constructed from concrete blocks. He almost cried out
in pain as he felt something break in his foot, even as it ruptured
the wall. He kicked again and again, ignoring the pain from his
tortured foot.

Finally, he
made a hole big enough for him to fit and squeezed himself through
it, gritting his teeth against the pain as his injured foot became
twisted. He freed it with an effort and examined what he’d done.
The bone was broken alright, part of it sticking out of his broken
flesh. Even now, it was starting to heal but slowly, so slowly.
Much more slowly than normal. That Cambion’s cursed blade was
really messing up his healing ability. Even his shoulder was taking
its time realigning itself.

He paused to
catch his breath. The Cambions were moving. He divined that they
had entered the original motel room where he and Aimi had spent the
night. They would soon spot his trail. It wasn’t exactly hard to
work out where he’d gone. He may as well have set up a giant neon
sign saying ‘this way.’

He gambled that
they wouldn’t be able to find him if he got clear of the motel,
though his father had obviously told them exactly where he was. If
his glamor held out, he should be able to get clear - unless he was
in their line of sight, of course. Besides, it was almost dawn.
They couldn’t keep hunting him for much longer. Could they?

He was
wrong.

He limped on,
the wounds definitely healing but not rapidly enough to give him an
advantage. Behind him, the Cambions closed the gap. They may not
have been able to sense him but they could certainly track him. He
was leaving a bloody trail and dragging his foot. The worst ever
Boy Scout could’ve followed such a trail.

Panting and
exhausted, he finally hid in a thick brush thicket that had still
managed to retain some of its leaves, even buried in ash, just as
the sky brightened. Dawn. The blood-red moon disappeared behind the
thick cloud cover, leaving him with an odd sense of abandonment. It
also left him weakened. The red moon leant him strength where the
day leached it.

He prayed that,
like most demons, they would retreat to Hell during the day time.
But they weren’t normal demons. They were Cambions like him. He
didn’t have to go to Hell during the day, so why would they? But
then again, he’d become accustomed to living on the Earth for the
last twenty odd years. The sun still made him feel slightly uneasy
and he was used to it. For them, this must be a relatively new and
unusual experience. Hopefully, the sun terrified them. Maybe they
would return to where they felt most comfortable. If they didn’t,
it was all over for him.

They appeared
from around an abandoned gas station about fifty feet away. He
thought about using it as a refuge or even a last stand, but it was
just too obvious. It was what they’d expect him to do. It was what
he’d expect of himself. As usual, when he had such doubts, he went
ahead and did the unexpected. This time, he wasn’t sure whether it
would pay off or not.

He watched as
they briefly checked out the building, satisfying themselves that
he wasn’t inside. Outside, he couldn’t help but notice the nervous
looks they were giving the sky. One of the four - a male - was
looking in his direction, pointing for the benefit of the others,
following the obvious trail he’d left. Two females were shaking
their heads. A whispered conversation followed - an argument. Even
in hot debate, they kept their voices low so that Sam could only
hear the occasional snippet of Hellspeak. There was lots of angry
gesturing going on, mostly in his direction. The first male was
clearly adamant that they continue but the others appeared too
scared of the sky. Eventually, the majority won and all four
disappeared behind the gas station once again.

Sam had never
felt so relieved before. Another fifty feet and they would have had
him. It was only now that he could feel his strength starting to
return, the blood clotting on the wound in his chest. His broken
ankle was starting to knit while his shoulder had already realigned
itself. A few minutes earlier, and there would have been no way he
could’ve fought them all off, especially in his weakened state.

He’d garnered
some good pieces of information from the encounter, however. First,
that his father was now employing his royal Cambions on Earth and
they were talented fighters with powers of concealment. Secondly,
they feared the sky. Thirdly, their blades were deadly and it took
around fifteen minutes for any wounds to start clotting. Being
injured by one also slowed down his normal healing processes. Even
at his peak, Sam doubted his ability to fight off five of them at
once.

There was
something else about them though. Something that was troubling him.
He remembered the way the demon had smiled as it died as if it knew
something he didn’t. It was slightly unnerving. His father had told
him that he had a surprise for him. Was it the existence of the
Cambions themselves? It was too obvious. His father would not
reveal his hand that easily. Satan normally played a slightly more
subtle game than that.