The Wastelander
Page 37
Just then, a cry broke the relative silence. A ragged wasteland airship was coming their way, kicking up a torrent of wind and sand. It was a hundred meters tall and split the twilight horizon as it made its way toward Blackflag Outpost.
Was he finally back? Could they start the slaughter?! Excitement gleamed dangerously in the winged man’s eyes. His horned companion unfurled from atop the rock and stood.
All of a sudden, a fierce wind was kicked up all around them. Billowing clouds of sand arose as though they’d been stirred up by giant, invisible hands. The clouds swirled around and around until they formed a tornado.
The outpost’s defenders were stunned as they witnessed the supernatural disaster form before their eyes.
“Shit!”
“The hell is this?!”
As though on cue, the tornado tore forward, throwing everything in its path high into the sand-choked air. The sound resembled that of a hundred thousand rattlesnakes beating their tails.
The elite soldiers hollered out to the others. “Hit the deck!”
Half a moment later the tornado struck the make-shift parapets and tore them to shreds. Ten soldiers were flung into the sky like detritus; even their screams were lost to the deadly sands. Nearby buildings of weaker construction were reduced to rubble by the tugging winds alone.
As the summoned storm pierced the Outpost’s defenses, it rapidly started to diminish. Far from being a cause to celebrate, however, it spat out plumes of sand in all directions and blinded the defenders. As their world was cast into a choking fog, chaos erupted among the Outpost warriors.
A crazed fanaticism burned in the horned man’s eyes. “Master blesses us with cover. Tear this place apart!”
The winged commander let loose a howl of excitement. His wings beat furiously, launching him into the air and leaving whirling dust devils in his wake. He shot like a bullet into the sky, to the chorus of bloodthirsty cries from the sweepers below. Together they advanced through the wind and sand toward Blackflag Outpost’s crumbling walls.
At last, the battle had begun!
“They’re coming!”
“Everyone, get ready for a fight!”
Warriors shuffled through the unnatural darkness, rushing to try and maintain some sort of defensive formation. One wastelander clambered over the wall and met the defenders with a swing of its heavy axe. It cut through a warrior’s head with a sickening crunch before being wrenched free and turned on another.
Bloodcurdling howls echoed through the sandy darkness. The two sides clashed.
There were three times as many sweepers this time as there were in the last assault, while Blackflag Outpost’s defenses had taken a big hit. What remained of their elite squad used their tenacity and organization to rally the defenders and prepare for the desperate fight.
A shadow stretched over them. Peering through the stinging sands, the outpost’s fighters could make out an oval shape drifting through the skies above them. It was the black-clad man’s airship. That was about as far as their thoughts got before they were interrupted by a series of cracks.
“Ahh! Aarrgghh! Agghh!!”
A hail of bullets descended on them, ripping through the defenders and turning them into howling fountains of blood. What flesh and blood creature could survive a tempest of hot lead? It was spat from a rare treasure in the wastelands, a minigun bolted to the frame of the airship. Already it was clear which side held the advantage.
Disaster had befallen the Outpost warriors. Wherever the enemy airship passed, it left piles of corpses and rivers of blood in its wake. Sweepers broke through the walls in droves to swarm over the hellscape and look for victims. Men, women, children – it didn’t matter. If it breathed, it was torn apart.
Could this even be called a battle? It was genocide!
Blackflag Outpost had fallen. This bastion of society in the wastelands was no more. The Bloodsoaked Queen walked through the slaughter, swaying slightly with every step.
All of these people were dead because of her. Although she was a child of the gods, a noble demon hunter who spurned these heathens, witnessing their heartless massacre wasn’t something she could simply put out of mind.
They were lives of ignorance and evil – but they were lives nonetheless!
No question remained as to who would win this conflict. The overwhelming numbers and advantages of the sweepers proved too much for the Outpost. Even if she were stronger, the Bloodsoaked Queen couldn’t turn this foul situation around.
Blackflag Outpost was destined to be wiped out and fade into obscurity. Its denizens were either consigned to rot as corpses, or were fleeing in whatever direction their legs would take them. All the while, there were screams, blood, murder, brutality – how could anyone not be scarred by this nightmare?!
A group of four or five sweepers came across the Bloodsoaked Queen. They immediately brandished their axes and, with guttural battle cries, flung themselves at her.
In one fluid movement, the Queen kicked her foot, flicking up an iron sword that was half hurried in the dirt. She caught it in midair and before the mob could even draw close, they were met by streaks of cold light. Precise, deadly, vicious. One after another, the sweepers fell to the ground, spurting blood from their open throats.
Demon hunters were the mightiest warriors in the Elysian lands. Even if bereft of their godly relics, no typical enemy could stand against them.
Out of the wind-borne sands, a cluster of bone-tipped tentacles shot forth. They whipped and cut through the air like a meat grinder, fast and cruel. Erratic and deadly, the sudden attack was practically impossible to defend against.
Clang, crack, bang!
The crude iron sword in the Queen’s grip seemed to take on a life of its own. Like a viper, it lashed out at the tentacles, blocking each one. None managed to slip past her cover.
A shrill cry rang out from overhead. What little light remained glinted off of a pair machetes, carving a deadly path her way. They were aimed at the snow-white flesh of her neck, ready to sever her head from her body.
The Bloodsoaked Queen reeled back just in time. She could only see the light of the machetes as they flit by, severing several hairs as they passed. A moment later, a figure appeared behind her bearing the offending weapons. Fast as lightning, the shadow struck again.
She swung the sword around and held it in a backwards grip.
Clang! The iron sword knocked the machetes away!
Next, the earth shook beneath her feet, followed by a thunderous roar and the sound of splintering stone. From the corner of her eye, she saw a massive pitch black figure burst through a structure on her left. The wall didn’t appear to slow this monster down in the least as it bore down on the Queen like a bloodthirsty rhinoceros.
Again, she swung her sword around to meet this new threat. What followed was the grating sound of steel breaking apart. The Bloodsoaked Queen staggered back with the ruins of a sword in hand. The sheer force of the impact had practically turned her weapon to dust. Whoever this foe was, they had strength that surpassed that of both Grizzly and Mad Dog.
“Protecting yourself from a combined attack with nothing but a crude sword.” The unsettling man in black emerged from the sandstorm. On his left was the bull-horned monster that had nearly flattened her. On his right was a younger warrior with a pair of wings. They glared hungrily at the powerful Queen for a time before the black-clad aberration spoke again in its low, gravelly voice. “’Bloodsoaked Queen’ is a well-earned moniker.”
As he spoke, figures began to close in around them, silhouettes barely visible through the sand. They revealed themselves to be twenty elite sweepers, with bows drawn and arrows nocked, all equipped with deadlier weapons than the splinters of the Queen’s ruined sword.
Her face was hidden behind the demonic mask so none of the Queen’s assailants knew what she was thinking. Almost flippantly, she cast the hilt of her ruined weapon aside. Her bare hands quickly filled with balls of roiling flame.
The one in black, she knew, could regenerate quickly. Only a single, definitive attack could put him down. Otherwise, he was practically impossible to kill. The bull-horned man-beast was strength-focused and a single blow from him would either cripple or outright kill her. The winged youth possessed supernatural agility and had great speed and keen reaction times. Against him, life or death would be decided in the blink of an eye.
Against the three of them, even the demon hunter was outmatched. She needed to use relics!
The Bloodsoaked Queen, mighty as she was, had her limits. Battling against these three mutants, how could she also protect herself from the host of assassins that had surrounded her? What’s more, she hadn’t fully recovered from her wounds and quickly dispatching her three most irritating assailants would be no easy task.
The black man’s voice slithered out, cold as the grave. “Kill her!”
The twang of bows loosing their arrows filled the air.
The Queen threw herself behind a collapsed wall and the deadly bolts buried themselves in her cover. With a gleeful cry, the winged mutant shot into the air, only to descend on her like a meteor. The man in black and the horned warrior raced after her on the ground. They converged on her in an instant.
Ten sweepers followed right on their heels.
She could be twice as strong and still be outmatched. Not only did she have to dodge arrows fired from the darkness, she also had to protect herself from the three mutants and a contingent of sweepers.
Thud! The Queen felt something strike her shoulder and a spray of blood spurted forth. She’d been struck by a sniper and was injured!
With perfect timing, the winged man attacked with his machetes. The cunning monster in black lashed out with its whip-like tentacles. The twin-horned man charged while ignoring all obstacles, flailing his inky-black fists.
Wrath, indignation, and cold-blooded homicidal intent sprang up in the Bloodsoaked Queen’s eyes.
She clenched her right fist and her glove burst into flame. She lashed out and like a belching flame from a dragon’s maw, a plume of fire erupted outward. For all his girth and muscle, the bull-horned mutant was blasted several meters away like a ragdoll.
48 Knock 'Em Flying
The Bloodsoaked Queen had two divine relics. One was the “Burning Angels”, while the other was the sacred crossblade of light. Both were relics from her clan, with the Burning Angels being the gloves she wore on her hand.
Legends claimed that if the demon hunter was powerful enough, a touch from the Burning Angel could set anything ablaze. Wood, stone, even iron – a caress was enough to make it belch fire. Flammable or not, the power of the relic consumed all.
Though the Bloodsoaked Queen was not as powerful as the demon hunter described in legends, she could incinerate any flesh and blood obstacle within her reach. No amount of luck could protect her victim once she laid hands on them.
However, when her strike landed, it didn’t feel like it hit flesh. It felt like it hit metal. The horned man was wreathed in flames but they didn’t reach any vital part of him. The mutant rolled around in the sand for a moment to extinguish the fire, after which the only result was a scorched mark on his chest. Certainly nothing to threaten his life.
The man in black hissed a mocking laugh. “Second brother has the strongest defenses. Even for a young demon hunter, you are weak. Did you honestly believe you were strong enough to face our master? So naïve!”
“What I didn’t expect,” the Queen said through her mask, “was that your ‘master’ would be so fond of raising stupid mutts.”
None of them were offended or enraged by her insult – since they agreed. Each of them was proud to be a loyal servant of the master, a vicious dog in his service. They would tear out the throats of whoever he told them to without ever questioning who or why.
“Are you demon hunters any different? Dogs as well, with gods who hold your tether. We’re no different, you and I!”
“You refuse to accept reality and harass us because of your dogmatic assumptions. What gives you the right to be so self-righteous? Do you think you understand the wastelands at all? What right do you have to pass judgment on us?”
The black-clad mutant waved his hand. The sweepers raised their weapons, ready to put her down for good.
The Bloodsoaked Queen bolted from her hiding place like a bat out of hell. The crack of bullets and thuds of crossbow bolts followed her, sinking into the sand inches from her heels. She was shadowed by the winged mutant who descended from on high. He held his machetes in a reverse grip and cut with such speed and ferocity that it seemed like dozens of strikes were raining down.
The Queen thrust out her hands, fingers curled in like a tiger’s claws. With staggering accuracy, she caught the winged man’s blurred machetes out of the air and poured the power coalesced in her palms right through them. They immediately began to glow with white hot heat.
With a yelp, the winged man’s hands went slack and he was blasted away. The black-garbed man and his horned companion charged in for another assault.
The man in black attacked first, lashing out with five viper-like tentacles. With startling accuracy, they splayed out toward specific targets: her face, throat, chest and other vital parts. They hissed through the air like arrows from a hundred archers, seeking her heart with a shrill whistling cadence.
The horned man’s attacks weren’t flashy or even terribly skilled. He relied on overwhelming strength and so intense was his punch that its effects were felt even before they landed. Punch after punch, propelled by pure force mighty enough to level mountains.
The Bloodsoaked Queen was knocked back and the assault slowed her escape. It was only a little, but it was enough. One of the bullets found its mark and buried itself in her thigh, causing her to lose her balance.
She bit back her pain and focused more energy into her hands, gripping tight the machetes wrenched from the winged man. They glowed red and when she threw them, they had become disks of molten steel. Both of them exploded in midair and sent searing shrapnel flying out in every direction. The pained whines and howls of sweepers answered.
The Queen stumbled, rolled, and shot back to her feet. The wound in her leg was deep and bright fresh blood oozed freely from it, but she didn’t have time to examine the injury now. The five tentacles of the black-garbed monster were upon her and the horned behemoth was bearing down on her position.
She managed to dodge the tentacles, but in doing so left herself open to the horned man’s fists. As his blow landed, she was thrown through the ruined buildings of the outpost like a marionette with its strings severed. He was monstrous, with a single successful hit nearly breaking her in half.
“Kill her!”
The sweepers raised their weapons, training them on the Queen. Their gnarled fingers were about to pull hair triggers when suddenly, shouts that caught their attention sounded out. A group of outpost warriors who had rallied together charged the twisted beasts. Caught unprepared, they were quickly cut down.
The Bloodsoaked Queen took this opportunity to flee. She struggled to move as quickly as she could, despite her grievous wounds.
“We can’t defend the outpost!”
“Queen, we must retreat!”
Grizzly put his fist through one of the sweeper’s heads as if it were an overripe melon. He was covered in blood, some his but mostly others’ as he hurried to the Queen’s side. When he saw that she had not suffered any life threatening wounds, he breathed a sigh of relief. However her injuries were anything but slight, which filled him with an indescribable fury.
These fucking bastards! They dared harm my Queen?!
Grizzly had managed to assemble ten elite fighters and twenty to thirty conscripts. They weren’t a strong unit by any means, but they would serve in an emergency. At the very least, they could pin down a sizeable group of sweepers.
The Bloodsoaked Queen knew that now was not the
time to tarry and fight. With Cloudhawk’s help, she’d recovered from her wounds, but not completely. She was only capable of commanding a little more than sixty percent of her full strength. Besides being less than at her peak, she’d also suffered wounds on her shoulder and leg. The punch that horned bastard landed also caused considerable internal damage. Keeping up the fight was ill-advised.
Grizzly screamed at her with all the force of his namesake. “Go!”
Sinister, snake-like laughter hissed through the air. “You think you can get away?”
The winged youth skimmed low over the ground and snapped up a long knife from the ground. A group of soldiers moved to stop him but were viciously cut down. The man in black and the horned titan moved in for the kill. Despite the soldiers’ efforts, sweepers closed in on all sides.
Warriors started dropping like flies. Their circle of defiance was quickly shrinking.
Grizzly punched one of the wastelanders so hard his chest caved in. He swung around to face his next foe and found himself face to face with an enormous specimen. He was pitch black and two enormous horns rose from his skull.
“Get the fuck outta my way!”
Grizzly didn’t give a damn who his enemy was. He snapped a jab with his iron-clad hand aimed at the horned mutant’s chest. His foe didn’t dodge or block. The punch connected and the horned man staggered back several steps. A small rivulet of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but otherwise, the beast was unfazed.
What?
Grizzly looked at the mutant, dumbfounded. He was one of the strongest fighters in the outpost, matched only by Tartarus’s captain, Mad Dog. The horned man didn’t seem to care though. He didn’t block or move, he just took the punch like it was nothing.
The titan wiped the blood from his mouth. He glared at Grizzly with dark, murderous eyes. “You’ve got some strength. But not enough!”
He punctuated his words with a full-armed punch.
Grizzly paid his words no mind. When he saw the fist, he answered by throwing one of his own. They collided with such force that it sounded like thunder, followed by the sound of splintering bone and Grizzly’s earsplitting cries.