by Mark Barber
An ear piercing, high-pitched scream from somewhere outside the farm building opened her eyes wide in terror. She looked across at her two comrades, but neither reacted.
“Wh… where are we?” she whispered. “What happened?”
“We lost,” Hayden replied dejectedly, “they brought the prisoners here. We’re all that is left.”
“Wulf and Carmen were with us to begin with,” Jaque added, his voice choked, “they took Carmen out first. Then they took Wulf with one of the legion men and a squire. That’s who you can hear now. We’re next.”
“Then we need to escape,” Constance urged her two friends. “Come on! We need to find a way out of these chains!”
“And then what?” Jaque finally turned to fix his red-rimmed eyes on her. “This hut is surrounded by a hundred of those demons! There is no escape!”
“Then we die fighting!” Constance snarled, frantically looking around for something she could use to try to force open her restraints. “Don’t give up now!”
Struggling up to her feet, Constance let out a cry as pain flared up in her midriff, and sagged back to her knees. Looking down, she saw crimson leaking through her garments, and memories of being cut down by the vicious, serrated blade of an Abyssal flooded back to her. It made no difference. She opened her mouth to urge Hayden and Jaque into action, but she saw both of them looking over her shoulder. She turned and saw a figure of nightmare standing at the doorway of the hut, smiling down at her.
The woman, if the demon could be called a woman, had the same vivid red skin as the rest of her devilish kin, but her black, cruel eyes shone with a deep and malicious intelligence. She wore scant scraps of spiked leather, leaving most of her slender form exposed as if in an attempt to allure. Black-skinned wings emerged from her back and a long, arrow headed tail flickered from the base of her spine. Four lower Abyssals flanked her, waiting deferentially a step behind her.
“What a speech,” the hellish woman hissed as she leered down at Constance. “Let us hope that you retain some of that spirit for your demise! I’m getting tired of the wailing and pleading from your friends I am killing.”
Constance met the demon’s stare and spat out a brief challenge using some choice language.
“Good!” the demon grinned. “That is exactly what I’m looking for! Come on, bring them out!”
The muscular lower Abyssals stomped forward, one grabbing Constance by her hair and dragging her painfully out of the building before throwing her down on her knees. The building stood alone atop a small hill, looking down at an expanse of farmland in every direction. All around were groups of the seemingly endless scarlet skinned demons, over a hundred of the monstrosities. Some fought each other viciously in small groups, others argued over hunks of meat that could have been farm animals, villagers, or even the dead from the previous night’s battle.
Prostrate on the ground in front of her was Wulf, the lower half of his body burnt back to bare, charred bone, his face twisted in utter agony from the moment of his death. Ignoring the pain from her wounds, Constance drew herself back to her feet and attempted to rush at the demon woman. She had taken only a single step when her Abyssal guard clamped a clawed hand around her throat and slammed a fist into her face, knocking her back to the ground and leaving her to spit out blood and a broken tooth. She looked across at Wulf’s body again, her fists clenched in anger.
Hayden was thrown down beside her. The big man waited for a moment and then reached across to hold her hand tightly.
“I wish I’d met your father,” he whispered to her. “I’d bet he’d be proud of you now.”
The comment diffused her anger, the thought of her father and the affection of her old friend replacing her rage with a hollow sense of loss and hopelessness. Fighting to rise above it, she forced a smile for Hayden.
“He would have liked you,” she said quietly.
Constance struggled up to her feet again. Two of the lower Abyssals dragged Jaque out toward the leather-clad demon. Constance watched in tormented agony as her friend broke down in tears, sobbing and wailing as he awaited his fate.
“See it through, Jaque!” Constance urged, hobbling after him. “Let them do their worst, and then the three of us will be together in paradise, with the Elohi!”
Her comment resulted in a hideous, unearthly laugh from the leader of the demons. It paced over to Constance and towered over her.
“What folly!” The devil smirked, tracing a finger across Constance’s cheek. “You cannot believe that, surely? You’re mercenaries! You kill indiscriminately for money! No scruples, no morals, nothing! You take anybody’s coins to kill anyone! Even by your own twisted morality, the three of you are nothing short of utter villains!”
“No!” Jaque cried, collapsing to his knees. “No! Tell her she is wrong!”
“You ignore this piece of shit, Jaque!” Constance growled. “We did the right thing! Just a few moments of pain and then heaven awaits!”
The hideous, shrieking laughter came again. The devilish woman paced back to Jaque and stroked his hair softly.
“This one is already broken! I think I’ll have more fun torturing your soul than your body! But let me leave you in no doubt, you are going to the fires of the Abyss! You are a murdering mercenary who cast all of your society’s rules aside for money, and now I own you! You are going to burn! An eternity of slow, agonizing pain as you die a thousand times over! You, all of you, your souls are going to burn in the pit! And I’ll be there to stoke the fires!”
Tears welled in Constance’s eyes as Jaque collapsed to the ground, his body convulsing in tears. She tried to stagger over to him again but was held in place by one of her guards.
The sudden sound of bounding hooves drummed up the side of the hill, and Constance turned to see an armored rider gallop across to the ruined farm building atop a blazing eyed horse clad in rusted barding. The rider stopped by the demonic guards and dismounted. His plate armor was tinged a dark blue-black and adorned with studs across the tall pauldrons. She recognized him instantly, despite his aged face and red eyes.
“What is going on here?” Dionne demanded as he paced over.
“This is how I deal with prisoners,” the demonic woman replied evenly.
Dionne smashed the back of an armored hand across her face, causing her to yelp in delight.
“I gave orders to have the prisoners executed,” Dionne snarled, “quickly and cleanly. They fought well. They deserve that much. Now stop this nonsense and carry out my orders!”
“Captain Dionne!” Constance yelled.
Dionne’s head whipped around to stare at her. His eyes moved across to the other survivors.
“Constance? Hayden? Jaque? Why are you here?”
“You remember us?” Constance stammered.
“I would never forget the name of any soldier who served me,” Dionne said as he walked over to her, “but why are you here? Why are you opposing me?”
“We… had to bring you in, sir,” Hayden managed. “The Duma ordered it.”
“The Duma?” Dionne spat. “Come, old friend! You are branded as a criminal! You oppose me to defend the ideals of such a corrupt and rotten institution?”
“But you… you ride with demons of the Abyss!” Hayden exclaimed.
Dionne’s face fell for a moment and then twisted in anger.
“I was driven to this! This isn’t what I wanted! But if this is what I must do to end the corruption of the Hegemon, then it is a small sacrifice to make!”
“It’s your soul, sir!” Constance pleaded. “That is no small price! Is there no other way?”
The aging warrior’s face softened once more. He turned to face the hellish torturer.
“Am’Bira, go,” he ordered, “leave us.”
The demonic woman bowed her head in obedience and walked away. Dionne turned back to Constance.
“I respect you as a soldier, so please do not judge me for treating you differently, but I am too old fashioned to
allow a helpless woman to be killed at my hands,” Dionne said quietly before turning to the closest of the lower Abyssals. “Release her.”
The horned demon stared at Dionne incredulously, a low growl of confusion questioning the command. In one smooth and accurate motion, Dionne unsheathed his sword and sliced the Abyssal’s head off. The monster remained upright for a moment, blood fountaining from its neck stump before it crumpled to one side. Dionne turned to the remaining three Abyssals.
“When I give an order, you carry it out!” he bellowed. “Instantly, and without question!”
A second demon seized the initiative and dashed forward to remove the restraints from Constance’s wrists and ankles.
“Now go,” Dionne said as he turned away. “I’ll end the suffering for your friends quickly and painlessly.”
“No, stop!” Constance pleaded. “Look at them both! They were your soldiers! They deserve better than this! Hayden will be too old to fight any season now, let him go home to his daughter! And look at what your creatures have done to Jaque! He’s done! Let him go! If you must strike somebody down to prove something to your monsters, then exchange me for the two of them! Let them go and I’ll stay!”
Hayden cried out a protest but was silenced as Dionne held up one hand. He looked into Constance’s eyes and smiled sadly.
“If Basilea were run by the likes of you, Constance, then none of this would ever have to happen,” he said despondently.
He nodded to two of the Abyssals who instantly carried out his orders, freeing Hayden and Jaque.
“Go,” he said, “all of you. This land will fall. Head west, go to the Kingdoms. You will be safe there. But never return to Basilea. We will take this entire, rotten nation. And if you come back, I will kill you.”
Constance opened her mouth to plead again with Dionne, to ask him to turn his back on all of it and come with them, but Jaque collapsed into her arms, still sobbing. She clutched her friend close to her, taking a moment to settle him until the three of them walked slowly and painfully away from the hilltop, through the terrifying spectacle of a hundred demons watching them in silence as they left.
The sun continued to rise and replace the red of the skies with a hazy blue as they stumbled on in silence for hours, clinging desperately to each other as they wearily paced through fields, forests, and streams. Eventually Hayden called a stop.
“This is where it ends for me,” the tall man said with a sad smile.
“What do you mean?” Constance coughed, one hand pressed against the bleeding wound at her side. “We’re away from them now! We just need to find somewhere to rest and recover, and then…”
“And then what?” Hayden interrupted. “You said it yourself, I’m too old for this now. I’m not carrying on anymore. I’m going to find my daughter. I’m going to settle down near her, and I’m going to see out the rest of my days playing a lute in a tavern. I’m done with this, Constance. I should have died back there, but the devil himself gave me one last chance to spend my days with my daughter. I’m done soldiering.”
Jaque finally spoke.
“When this is over, we will come and find you,” he muttered. “Enjoy your retirement, Hayden. The Shining Ones know, you deserve it more than anybody.”
Hayden accepted Jaque’s outstretched hand and shook it firmly, forcing a slight smile. Constance stepped forward to embrace him.
“Thank you, Hayden,” she said softly, “for everything. Thank you so much.”
The tall man kissed the top of her head and walked slowly off toward the south. Constance watched him until his familiar, stooped form disappeared into the trees ahead. She closed her eyes, exhausted and dismayed with the horrific turn of events that had brought her to stand with only one friend by her side, still bleeding from her wounds, and lost in the wilderness of a nation that abandoned her long ago. But Dionne had not abandoned them. Hayden now traveled off to what she hoped would be a happy retirement, near his daughter and with his music, safe away from the fields of battle. And it was Dionne that gave him that opportunity. It was Dionne that had let them all live in the face of the hellish monstrosities that would have been their agonizing demise. Constance opened her eyes again and turned to face Jaque.
“I’m going back,” she said apologetically.
“What?”
“That is our captain back there, alone with those creatures. I’m going back for him.”
“Constance! That is not our captain! That is not the same man who led us at Farr Ridge and across the Estraitees River! Captain Dionne is dead! That… thing back there is just another demon!”
“No,” Constance shook her head, “he let us go, Jaque! He saved us! He is still in there, and if there is any chance that I can save him, I have to try!”
“Constance, no!” Jaque yelled, clamping his hands against her shoulders and looking her in the eyes. “You’ve always been the clever one! I’ve always trusted you and I’ve always followed you, you’re my leader and you’re my captain now! And my friend! Please, just once, listen to me! This is a bad idea, a huge mistake! Dionne is no more, there is just an Abyssal monster waiting back there! Don’t go!”
“I have to,” Constance whispered, “I can’t abandon him. Everybody else has.”
“If you go, I can’t go with you,” Jaque said desperately. “I can’t go back.”
Constance gently took his hands from her shoulders, gave them a reassuring squeeze, and took a step back away from him.
“I know, Jaque,” she forced a weary smile. “I know. I never would have asked you to. Get yourself home. Get yourself safe.”
Leaving her friend looking hopelessly lost, confused, and despairing, Constance took a few further steps back away from him before turning around to head back to the north.
***
Dawn brought with it a welcome but ominous sky of blood red, deteriorating by midmorning to a leaden gray, heavy with rainclouds. The rumble of thunder could be heard to the east as the line of weary horses and their riders arrived at a small logging village somewhere southeast of the Tarkis Mountains. The entire village was deserted, save for a few small farm animals that paced and clucked around the village grounds, oblivious to the disaster unfolding around them.
Tancred led the exhausted procession to the village’s tavern, where he slowly and painfully dismounted before limping over toward the door. A squire immediately dashed across to take his two horses away.
“As soon as you are done with them, get in the tavern,” he ordered the boy. “We all stay together from now on.”
The tavern door was locked shut. Wincing in pain with each step, Tancred limped around the back to look for another entrance, but within only a few paces, one of the men-at-arms had kicked the door open to break the lock. Hugh led the survivors inside where the handful of soldiers and supplymen quickly set about lighting candles and searching the building for food and drink. The tavern looked to Tancred like any other, with a long bar separating a seating area from a small kitchen, and stairs leading up to rooms and down to a wine cellar. Tancred sank down into a bench seat in the far corner away from the door where within moments one of the men-at-arms came across to re-bandage his wounds.
The Dictator-Prefect slumped down alone at the far side of the room, holding a hand up to refuse any assistance from another of the men-at-arms. Tancred sat in silence and watched the nobleman for a few moments. Hugh stared dejectedly at the rough, wood paneled floor, his eyes occasionally flickering as if he were replaying conversations in his mind. Tancred waited until the soldier had finished bandaging the wounds across his gut and on his thigh, mumbled a thank you, and then limped over to Hugh.
“What now?” he asked.
The Dictator-Prefect stared silently at the floor.
“Dictator-Prefect?” Tancred asked.
“I don’t know!” the older man snapped. “Do what you want.”
Tancred suppressed a yawn and turned to face the other survivors. Bottles of wine had been recovered fr
om the cellar, and loaves of bread and cheese were being handed out from the kitchen. He counted five paladins including himself, five legion men-at-arms, seven squires, three supplymen, and the Dictator-Prefect who had survived the previous night’s ordeal. Twenty-one survivors from a force that had left the City of the Golden Horn with some one hundred and fifty.
“Listen to me, all of you,” Tancred announced, turning all heads to regard him. “We will stop here for rest and shelter, but not for long. Those demons will no doubt be heading south toward the larger settlements, and we lie in their path. Once we are rested, we must keep moving.”
“Where to, my lord?” one of the legion men asked. “What is our plan now?”
“I sent word to the Duma,” Hugh said quietly from his dark corner of the room. “A relief force will be marching north. We can join up with them. They will no doubt take the main coastal road.”
“Do we know that for certain?” Jeneveve demanded, her normally placid tone replaced with hostility. “Have you had any confirmation that the message ever reached the Duma? Or that a decision has even been made to send another force up here?”
“What would you rather we do?” Hugh murmured. “Just give up? We keep going. Just as Tancred says.”
“Twenty-one of us and twelve horses,” Jeneveve continued, “how long do you think…”
“We keep going!” Tancred snapped. “As the Dictator-Prefect has decreed! Nobody said it will be easy, but we have things a lot better than our comrades we left behind!”
Jeneveve stood, her face thunderous with anger, and walked over to the main door to head back outside where a light rainfall announced the onset of worse weather to come. Tancred limped over to the five legion men.
“Go and see if there are any beds upstairs. Go and get some rest. I shall take the first watch.”
***
Nightmare images slowly faded away; an endless sea of devils, cascading down in the night to claw, hack, bite, and maim. Orion sat up in the bed, his heart pounding as he looked frantically around to ascertain where he was and how he had ended up there. Rain pounded against a window to his left, thunder rumbled outside the building, and a flash of lightning illuminated an otherwise black, night sky. He lay in a narrow, simple bed in a small room with a single door, furnished only with a wardrobe, a cracked mirror, and a washbasin. He felt suddenly calm, safe, even loved and cherished. A warm wave of affection washed over him, tangible enough for him to realize that he was in the presence of something good, something pure. Something completely opposite to the darkness he felt when fighting for his life against the Abyssal horde. It was then that he realized there was a chair to his left, in a dark corner of the room, and the chair was occupied.
