Otherworld Soldiers- Rise of the Apocalypse

by Fox Lancet

  “They were after me just as well as they were you, brother,” Syler replied through clenched fangs.

  Hunter’s eyes flashed red and he bellowed wordlessly, wheeling away so he could bring his sword up in a high arc. Syler’s eyes also grew red but immediately flushed into purple as Hunter brought his sword down. Syler barked and caught Hunter’s wrist, retaliating with a kick to his stomach. Hunter stumbled backward, the action enraging him further. He roared again and rushed at Syler. One of the mounted Demons charged in between them and glared down at Hunter from his massive steed.

  “Nefarion would not be pleased if I allowed you to proceed,” the mediating Demon insisted grimly. Hunter’s entire body undulated with rage and he released a wrathful roar as he turned and decapitated the remaining Seraph.

  Finally, he sheathed his sword without a glance at Syler, his temper still flaring. His eyes remained solid red despite the intruding sunlight and a continuous growl hummed in his chest. Syler understood the rage was not his fault, but derived from the battle where they were both nearly slain. As blithe as Hunter was the majority of the time, his displeasure was quick lit and knew no bounds, as he had demonstrated just moments ago with his closest brother.

  The two damaged Demons doubled up with the mounted Demons, their own steeds awaiting them at the camp set up at the foot of the mountains. By the time they arrived, Hunter’s temper had receded, his eyes a red pinpointed black against the red sun, and he breathed lightly.

  “Syler.” He approached his cohort confidentially. “You know I did not intend to come at you as I did.” He paused, his posture straight and sure. Syler nodded in agreement and understanding.

  “I am aware.” He showed his fangs in thought. “The fight was overwhelming. I could only expect for you to be enraged thereafter. Lucky for myself I can match you evenly in any brute contest.” He sneered.

  “Whatever comforts you, Syler.” Hunter laughed brusquely. Syler grinned, never offended by any of Hunter’s actions or words.

  Nefarion was propped steadily on a rock in the shade of the dark forest that trimmed the mountain’s foot. He disregarded his Elites approach, staring at a map and poking aimlessly at a mound of burning Slecktic carcasses with a long stick. The Elites halted several feet from him. The glow of the fire danced on his black hide wildly and red sunrays broke through the tree branches to slice around his form. He folded the map and regarded Hunter and Syler with a side-long glance.

  “I am pleased to see you survived a Seraph ambush,” he finally ventured, staring back into the fire. “However, you are my best and at this point in time, I would appreciate vigilance with your lives since I am dependent upon you to cross to the other side in my stead.” Nefarion finally turned his full attention on them. The red and blue blood had dried and crusted on their tight, black hides. They approached the fire.

  “We only meant to protect the rear. We failed by assuming they were flanking us in some manner,” Syler admitted brazenly.

  “Carrion and Famine are rested.” Nefarion ignored Syler. “Now that we have regrouped we may continue. The goal is to deliver the two of you through the gate. After you are through, I will set up guards to keep the enemy from crossing over.”

  Hunter and Syler discontinued any elaboration of their battle with the Seraphs and flanked Nefarion at the head of The Horde the rest of the way up the mountains. The four and a half day journey went uninterrupted. Regardless, the closer they got to their destination the more on edge everyone became.

  * * *

  When Elijah appeared through the trees at the base of Delaphane’s Mountain, Kaleb knew another failure had been accomplished. He sighed and stood to greet his second in command, wearily noting he had arrived short of nine Seraphs.

  “We cannot afford to lose so many.” he embraced Elijah tightly. “I am pleased with your return.”

  “Apologies, Prince. We were so close, we had them wounded and surrounded. They were rescued.” Elijah sat down where Kaleb had been.

  “Were you able to retrieve any Seraph bodies?”

  “Only four.”

  “Better than none. Buried already?”

  Elijah nodded, eyes downcast. Kaleb returned to his seat on a fallen tree marred with patches of blue moss. The sun was high now and he knew they needed to move on soon, to keep close to the enemy, but he wanted the Seraphs from the returned ambush to rest. He wanted to rest. Three times now they had tried to slow the enemy, to stop them. Nothing, nothing but loss. Slecktics failed—not that he had been so sure of their success to begin with. Three sky serpents and hundreds of Seraphs. Still more loss. And a final ambush to crush the Elite in hopes of crippling the Demon Lord’s mission. Lost.

  “I am a great failure. Mosiah would be ashamed,” Kaleb kept his voice low, wanting only to confide in his comrade. The last thing his soldiers needed was a blow to morale.

  “Prince, do not speak such nonsense. Our foe has always proven obstinate. Mosiah could not be ashamed because he was defeated. We will persist until the dreadful creatures’ end or until our own. The outcome is the will of the eternities.” Elijah squeezed Kaleb’s shoulder with strong, spindly fingers. “It is easy to lament and even easier to surrender. But nothing can come from doing nothing. We would be a sad race to let another devastate ours and cower away.”

  “Nothing has come from everything we have done,” Kaleb hissed. “Why continue to deliver ourselves to them when we know only slaughter can be had?” He could feel his eyes warming with luster in his agitation. He closed them and rested his head in his hands.

  “It does feel that way.” There was a long thoughtful pause. “Perhaps we are being led to where we will be able to accomplish more than what we have been able to here.”

  “Or perhaps it is time you start scrapping the old laws and kill the beast once and for all.” There had been no sound or scuttle of leaves, but that was Jacob: all stealth and silence.

  Both Elijah and Kaleb’s attention turned to the trees’ canopy. Jacob sat carefully on a broad branch. His hair was windswept, the pale locks tangled around his head and jaw. Thin, blue cuts riddled his high cheekbones and bare arms. His white tunic was sullied and torn. It was clear he had traveled quickly through the treetops to reach the camp.

  “Jacob, it is always a relief to see you.” Kaleb stood once again and beckoned him down. He dropped gracefully into the foliage. “Now that you are here, I believe we must move.” Just before Kaleb turned to call the command, Jacob stopped him.

  “Ah, there is no rush. We have some time to spare and I wish to hear a response to my suggestion.” Jacob walked past Kaleb and Elijah to perch himself on the log they had been sharing. He looked at Kaleb expectantly.

  The Seraph Prince sighed and instead of joining him, leaned against a tree, folding his arms over his chest. “You know I cannot do that.”

  “Why not? Because some ancient law says so? Is anyone who created these laws even alive? We no longer know our own history, let alone follow these laws that clearly serve no purpose. Things were different than they are now. In fact, I mean to call you King from this point forward. Who is to condemn me? Are you going to kill me? It is meaningless if you ask me.”

  “Well then, it is a sure thing I did not. Now let us move out. We cannot have our enemy beating us to Strace Peak.” Kaleb made several short whistles, a call to his horse.

  “I will not be ignored, my King.”

  Kaleb released a short shout of irritation and turned on his second in command. His eyes lit bright and flashed over Jacob’s face. “Enough of this insolence. I am above you and you will do as I say. You will not call me King. Do you forget the utmost reason Mosiah is dead?” Kaleb could feel his body straining to throttle his brother. The last several moon-descents had him wound up tight and he was in no mood to be questioned or prodded in any way.

  “Because he held the title of King.” It was Elijah who answered solemnly. He was a devoted follower, just as well as Jacob was, but Jacob could be unruly, alway
s pushing Kaleb, always testing, but always clenching his teeth and obeying when he knew Kaleb was at his wit’s end.

  At that moment his steed, Alliander, came trotting up beside him and gave a snort in greeting. Kaleb did not move and kept his eyes on Jacob, waiting to see if he was ready to let the subject drop. When no one spoke, he said,

  “Are we through with this conversation?”

  Jacob scowled at the ground, “Please just tell me you will think on it.”

  “I will, but I make no promises.” Kaleb turned to Alliander and pet his snout and cheek before sliding onto his back.

  “Understood,” Jacob grumbled.

  “Now let us depart and try once again to stop these Demons.” Kaleb called a command to the camp. Calls were made to steeds and everyone mounted up, following through the trees.

  * * *

  The crunch of Seraph bones reverberated through Syler’s clawed hands as he snapped yet another of his enemy’s necks. He growled, irritated at the sudden interruption when they were but an arm’s-length from their destination.

  Night devoured the battle as white and black shadows engaged each other in adamant attacks and skilled dodges.

  Hunter and Syler had not recovered completely; the last battle had left them open-wounded and exhausted. Constant travel had denied their hides a chance to fully heal or their bodies to rest, but they fought vigorously.

  Nefarion roared an anticipated command, “Forward, now!” His deep voice emanated through his army, and they responded by shifting massively as one against the oncoming foe. The black muscles shoved the white crowd back several feet in one unified gesture. In response, the white enemies began mounting the trees, but not in time to intercept Hunter and Syler as they fell back and slipped into the cavern of Strace Peak.

  4

  Earth

  The strange creature reached out a gray claw, gently raking the tips down her cheek. Saliea tried to pull back but her body was a stone, like so often happens in dreams. She willed herself to no avail. The creature’s eyes were strange. A thin red line glowed horizontally across the curves. It smiled with a frightening mouth full of fangs. Again Saliea willed herself to move, to get away.

  Suddenly the creature stepped back, spreading magnificent wings of onyx and crimson. It threw its head back and opened its arms wide. Then, as quickly as it had moved away, sit returned, so close its lips tickled Saliea’s ear.

  They are coming!

  Sunlight blinded Saliea, her eyes snapping open as she woke with a gasp. She sat up to avoid falling back into the vivid dream. Kicking the blanket off, she rubbed her hands over her face.

  “Fuck me.”

  A car horn sounded outside. It must have been what had woken her. She glanced at her bedside clock. Quarter after ten. The horn sounded again. She shook her head.

  Saliea made her way downstairs to start some coffee. The dream followed her like a recent bad memory. It had been a weird one and she was full of strange dreams. She couldn’t help but feel like it had actually been trying to tell her something.

  “Who is coming?” Sometimes talking aloud helped her divide and conquer her thoughts as well as helped wake her up. “Who was she?” Even though she’d been trying to get away from the thing in her dream, she hadn’t felt fear, just wariness of the unknown. Honestly the creature had been pretty cool looking. Elegant and beautiful in its own way. But then again, Saliea liked dark things: vampires, monsters, ruins, horror movies, metal. So it didn’t surprise her that she’d taken a bit of a liking to the thing.

  She poured the steaming coffee into her large red mug and wandered out the sliding glass door, into the back yard. It was mid-June and the morning was already gloriously warm. She sipped the scalding black liquid and looked up through the leaves of the giant oak that spread over their small back yard. It shaded the house in the late, hotter hours of the afternoon and in the evenings.

  It was her day off. She hadn’t made plans in hopes of having a quiet, relaxing, brain-dead day. Actually, she didn’t really have many friends to make plans with. Sam, her coworker, roommate, and best friend was working. She didn’t care much for her other roommate, Lila. The girl slept most of the day anyway because she was a ‘dancer’—aka stripper--and didn’t usually get home until four or five in the morning.

  She placed her coffee mug on the shelf of the old black grill and stretched her arms up. Groaning, she arched her back and stood on tip-toes.

  “I wouldn’t mind a pair of wings like that,” she said quietly, again dwelling on the creature in her dream. Relaxing, she reached for her coffee mug.

  She stopped. Everything had gotten darker. She glanced up, thinking the sun had gone behind a cloud, but she didn’t remember seeing any clouds just a moment ago. And there still weren’t any. The sun was still there, but there was a shade over it, across the whole world. She looked around, but before she could make any sense of it, or even panic, her heart started skipping beats. Pressing her hands to her chest, her mouth gaping, she tried to gain a deep breath. It shuddered in and out of her. Her insides began feeling abnormally warm. Hot. Saliea shut her eyes, curling into herself.

  The next thing she knew, it all vanished. The pain, her irregular heartbeats. She opened her eyes and it was the beautiful clear day she’d walked out to just a few minutes ago.

  “Okay. What the fuck. Was that?”

  She straightened and flexed her hands, looking around to find nothing out of the ordinary. Pinning some of her loose, black hair behind her ear, she picked up her coffee mug and moved back inside. She set the mug on the counter and braced her hands on the edge.

  For a long time she stood there, her weight resting on her arms. Something had come over her. The physical assault was done, but she no longer felt quite like herself.

  Saliea had always known there was more to her than just some girl trying to survive life. She had never felt fully connected to anyone, or even to the world. It was like she had been placed here by mistake. In fact, her father had left her mother because he was convinced Saliea was not his. Both her parents were natural blonds, descended of blond parents and grandparents. Saliea had naturally black hair. Neither bleach nor dye would take to it.

  A decade ago, when she had reached the age of fifteen, Saliea realized that her mother was afraid of her. The woman had tried her best not to make it apparent, but she was unsuccessful, often averting her gaze in conversations or jumping at the mere presence of her daughter. For this reason, Saliea was confident of her mother’s fidelity; her mother had no explanation for her daughter’s dark traits. Many people assumed at first that Saliea’s eccentric black eyes were just a deep brown, but upon closer inspection one could see that there was no distinction between her pupil and iris. Just solid black voids.

  There were other things too, like the thought or sight of blood which gave her a feeling of comfort and ease. This didn’t apply to her own blood; only that of others. She never could explain it and had yet to meet anyone else who responded in the same manner. Mostly just some masochists, but they only liked their own blood. Then a few sadists, but blood turned them on. It didn’t make her horny, just made her feel happy, complete, fulfilled. It used to frustrate her because it wasn’t normal, but as she got older and the society around her grew increasingly jaded and open to the strange, she accepted it in herself. She was different, which was fine with her. Though, sometimes she felt lonely because of it.

  She also thought of killing people who annoyed her. She never felt the urge strong enough to act on it in any way, but the fantasies were long and intricate. And a lot of people annoyed her. Simple people, weak people, rude people, overly nice people, arrogant people, the list was never ending.

  This, however, was different. She finally settled onto a stool after gathering her wits and stared at the granite counter top. Something was shifting inside and her emotions were either gone or muted. She didn’t care about what had just happened; she didn’t care about what would happen. It was as if something ha
d woken and stirred, shutting down needless parts of her. Maybe it was the thing that had come to her in her dreams.

  “No, this is insane. I just need to get out.” She got off the stool and went upstairs for a shower and to dress. All she needed was to get her mind off her morning and everything could go back to the way it was before. To pretending she belonged here.

  * * *

  Their sight cut through the black tunnel like red lanterns, though the tunnel was so thick with darkness their night-vision failed to penetrate the way it did when there was a slight light source. They both followed the walls with their clawed hands, guiding themselves through utter blackness. Neither said a word.

  After an indeterminable amount of time, the two Demons stepped into a blinding bright light. When they recovered sight they saw the bright light illuminated a vast expanse. Hunter gawked at the terrain while Syler observed it with disdain.

  Their gazes met tall yellow grass that spread out before lofty, pointed, green trees. The sky was a vivid blue that floated in the remaining space above the land before them. At the bottom of a deep hill of golden grass there were several solid structures integrated among a continuous spread of foliage. Mountains and hills disrupted a clear view of the land beyond.

  “I hate this place already,” Syler breathed, examining the mountainside over his shoulder. As he made the announcement, he caught sight of the form beside him. He choked on his breath, surprised. “Hunter?”

  Hunter had been taking in the new landscape and turned to answer Syler. He looked to his cohort casually, opening his mouth to respond, but stopped short and took two long steps back. He growled.

  “Syler?” He searched the vicinity.

  “It is I.” Syler touched a hand to his chest and looked down and started, pulling his hand from his body, surveying himself. Hunter followed suit and looked down at himself.