Legion

by Catrina Burgess

  Redeemers had decided to take Gage out and we’d somehow stumbled into the midst of it. Had we ridden most of the day right next to them without any idea? They had to know we were mage-born when we were with them on the ferry. Why didn’t they attack us then? Maybe they didn’t want to risk such a public battle, and we hadn’t been the only mage-born on the ferry that day. How had they found Gage? We were a long way off of the beaten path, and they didn’t have the help of a crazy old sorceress. Mildred had used Wendy to find us. Did the Redeemers use a reader? Magic pouches, enchanted blades, readers. Had the Redeemers given up on their core principles in order to destroy those they hated so deeply? If it was true, they were using the very magic they despised. However they’d done it, they’d found Gage and were now in a battle to the death with his henchmen.

  Everywhere I looked, mages died horribly, but even as they fell they were taking their attackers down with them. One of Gage’s death dealers managed to raise his banshees and sent them at the huge man attacking him, but not in time. An axe with symbols etched into its blade had already started its swing. The mage tried to dodge back, but the sharp edge of the axe sliced a long gash across his chest. The axe flared red, its enchantments ripping through whatever magic it faced. The mage dropped to the ground, blood gushing around clenched hands, and he quickly bled to death while his banshees tore his killer apart.

  Another death dealer stood with his feet planted firmly, firing bolts of magic into a half-dozen knife-wielding Redeemers. Those he hit staggered, some falling to the ground, never to rise again. He grinned cruelly and focused his magic on one victim, hitting him again and again until he lay smoking on the ground. A protection pouch burned around the neck of the fallen corpse with a blue flame, having finally succumbed to the horrible forces leveled against it.

  Another dark figure moved up behind the mage while he was distracted, thrusting a long spear at his back. The blade burst through his chest. The spear-wielding man jerked it back out violently, and blood gushed from the mage’s chest and mouth.

  The fighting slowed as the last of the mages was pulled down by the few remaining Redeemers on the shore. They looked around for a new target and then noticed Sonja standing stiffly in the middle of the carnage.

  During the battle, Sonja had stood frozen like a statue, watching bodies fall around her, too afraid to move. But when a Redeemer started to head straight for her, she turned and ran for the castle. She screamed at the top of her lungs for help. Splashes of red blood standing out against her pale skin made her look like a newly killed corpse. And she would be one soon if the man running behind her, dagger raised high in the air, caught up to her. As Sonja’s screams filled the air along with the sounds of men and women fighting and dying, lights began to come on in the upper windows of the castle. Were there more mages inside? Would reinforcements rush from the castle to Gage’s aid?

  I looked back to the ferry in time to see another wave of fanatics rush onto the dock. An older man, his face a mask of righteous ire, ran roaring at Fintan. Fintan stood calmly, waiting without any sign of concern as his attacker closed in. Fintan smiled complacently as a long sword whipped up, not trying to block or dodge the deadly blade. I could almost see Fintan’s protection spells glittering around him. The glimmer of orange sparkled ever so slightly in the dark night air. Powerful spells Fintan had that so far had been capable of stopping knives, axes, swords and any other form of violence turned on him. But this broadsword sliced through the air with a glowing blue. The blade, like the pouches, was enchanted. It sliced through Fintan’s spells like a knife through butter. The blade slowly came to a stop, lodged in Fintan’s sternum after slicing through the meat and bone of his shoulder and chest.

  Fintan’s smile didn’t waver, even as he began to fall apart. His flesh began to sluff off of his bones, rapidly slumping to the dock in thick rolls. The smell of unrefrigerated rot filled the air as buckets of blood and puss splashed off of the planks, painting every surface close by in macabre impressionistic patterns. Fintan’s head bounced off of the planks and into the sea.

  The old fanatic bent over and vomited violently as more weapon-toting men and women rushed forward from the ferry. The first man ran too quickly into the sloppy mess that had been Fintan and his feet went out from under him. The man flopped into the gore before sliding off the edge of the dock. Those who followed behind him stepped more carefully through the bloody puddles. The crowd came to a standstill, spread in a semicircle on the dock facing Gage.

  Gage seemed to take his attackers more seriously than Fintan had, but not by much. A somewhat amused looked flashed across his face.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you’re invited to this party. I’ll have to insist that you take your leave.”

  As he spoke, he jabbed his thumbnail into the palm of his right hand. Black blood ran over his fingers, dripping down his hands and slowly forming a blade.

  A part of my mind wondered how much blood it took to make that sword, and how weak he would be from the effort. The other part was screaming at me to run to him and fight by his side. Luke and Mildred still held my arms as we watched from the shadows.

  A large man stepped forward, a fireman’s style pickaxe hefted over his shoulder, poised to strike. Gage lunged forward, his bloody sword flashing through the air and leaving a spray of droplets hanging in the air as it went. It sliced through the wooden axe handle with a flash of released magics, and then on through the neck of the large man. His head rolled to the ground and blood geysered into the air, but the sword in Gage’s hand seemed to drink it all in. As it absorbed the blood the sword expanded, it grew, it began to glow with an unnatural bloody red light.

  The remaining Redeemers all rushed in to attack as if on cue. Weapons came in from all sides, and Gage’s bloody sword flashed and seemed to be everywhere at once, but there were too many to stop, and a long slash suddenly appeared across Gage’s gut. Gage seemed to barely notice, and a quick lunge drove his sword through the chest of the young blond woman who had been shouting taunts just moments before. She seemed to shrink as the weapon drank her dry, and she fell to the ground, a shrunken raisin version of herself.

  The battle paused, and Gage stepped back to take a breath. Through a long gash in his tux, I saw the flesh knit itself back together. Gage laughed darkly. “Are you really sure you want to crash this party? The music sucks, and we’ve already drunk all the good booze.”

  The attackers reformed themselves—only a dozen Redeemers were still standing on the dock. It seemed likely that Gage would make short work of them.

  One man stepped forward from among the Redeemers. Bandages wrapped his hands. When he raised his head the hood fell back, revealing a barely healed long gash running down the side of his face.

  Jacob?

  He raised his hands, and I noticed that at least one finger was missing from his right hand. Banshees flaming with hellfire flashed into existence around him, and they floated out until they arched around the Redeemers.

  Gage smiled wide. “Jacob, my boy, it’s good to see you alive.”

  Jacob raised his fiery hands. “Where is Wendy?”

  Gage lowered this blood sword. “Your beloved is safe. I don’t know what you’re doing standing alongside these fanatics.” Gage’s free hand made a wide gesture toward the Redeemers lying dead on the dock around him. “The fools have come to be slaughtered. You were never a fool. Come back and be a member of the winning side.”

  The man who’d killed Fintan was suddenly standing before Jacob, anger visible on his face. “Demon, we need no help from you anymore. We will defeat these witches and sorcerers with God’s power, not yours!”

  Gage gave out a laugh. “See what I mean? Redeemers—you can’t trust them. Jacob, be sensible, come back into the fold. All will be forgiven.”

  Jacob took a step around the man standing in front of him and addressed Gage. “You knew I loved her, yet you refused to let her go.”

  Gage’s shoulders slumped, an
d he gave out a loud sigh. “I tried to make you understand how powerful she is. How much I need her. If she’d been anyone else… Don’t you see? My hands are tied.”

  “Where is she?” Jacob yelled, his fiery banshees moving a few feet forward.

  Gage no longer looked amused. “This is a battle you can’t win. Don’t be foolish.”

  Jacob looked at remaining Redeemers, the men and women standing beside him. “I won’t let you destroy her. What’s that ancient proverb you’re always quoting us? ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ I took your advice to heart.”

  Gage’s eyes took on a reddish hue. “Say by some small stroke of luck the Redeemers win. You think your new champions will let you live? Will let Wendy live once this fight is over?”

  “I’d rather take my chances with them,” Jacob shouted.

  “So be it,” Gage said as he raised the red glowing sword.

  Jacob’s hands rose high in the air, and then he waved them forward, sending the flaming banshees straight at Gage.

  Gage didn’t back away. Instead, he began to run, and as he did he spun wildly, his sword flashing out, and whenever it met a banshee, it disappeared in a flash of hellfire. But there were too many of them, and soon Gage’s clothes were burning and black blood oozed from dozens of slashes.

  The remaining Redeemers took the opportunity to attack. The first one to reach Gage’s side crashed to the dock as Gage sliced his legs from his body, but the move left Gage overextended with his back turned to the next attacker. An axe thumped solidly into Gage’s back, sparking slowly as its magic fought to overpower him.

  For a moment, I thought he’d be all right. He straightened up, his sword at his side and a grim smile spread across his face. But then the fire in his clothes flared higher, suddenly obscuring his form in smoke and flames. His bloody sword burned away within the flames. Gage slowly slumped forward, and then his body tilted off of the side of the dock and into the sea.

  In spite of myself—in spite of all of the evil Gage had done, and the fact that I knew my feelings for him to be a spell that was akin to rape, I screamed in agony as I watched him fall. With a surge of strength, I broke free of the hands holding me. I rushed forward onto the lawn and into the light, overcome with the need to save Gage.

  And as I rushed forward, my friends were forced to come with me as they tried to stop me from rushing to Gage’s aid. All of Gage’s minions were dead and the battle had gone quiet, so my scream made every head turn toward us. Almost a dozen Redeemers still stood, protected by Jacob’s magics.

  There was a voice shouting in my head to stop. That my reckless action was putting my friends firmly in the line of fire. Again. All heads turned as another scream, a mirror of mine, echoed from in front of the house. Sonja, openly sobbing, slumped bonelessly to the ground. There was no more doubt in my mind that her love for Gage came from the same wicked spell as mine. And from the look of her, her bond with Gage was even stronger. And at that moment I was sure that he’d “consummated” the spell with her. Likely more than once.

  If Gage had his way, he would have done the same to me and my bond to him would have been as strong. Would have been unbreakable. The grief, jealousy, and anger that I felt all warred within me. The conflict actually cleared my mind, as too many emotions swirling inside me seemed to cancel each other out.

  A nearby yell caught my attention. I turned back just in time to see a knife flash out of the dark, burying itself in Dean’s arm. He had stepped between Sonja and the Redeemer chasing her. The knife stuck in his arm, throwing sparks out of the wound as his unique magic sucked the power from it. Dean’s eyes began to glow with a dim yellow light, and he reached to pull the knife out of the wound. He turned to look at me, pausing for a long second.

  He seemed more in control, more present, than he had been the last two times I’d seen his berserker power. Maybe the smaller amount of power in the knife left him more in control. Or maybe he was just learning to control it. Dean grinned at me darkly before flashing into motion. He moved quickly, though not the full blur I knew he was capable of. The knife, still dripping with his blood, flashed as he buried it in the chest of a startled Redeemer. The Redeemer stood staring down at the protruding hilt, plucking at it ineffectually as he slowly dropped to the ground. Dean was already grappling with a second victim, and a broken body flew through the air to bounce off against the rocky shore.

  Luke stepped in front of me as a trio of Redeemers closed in on us. A wave of hellfire washed over them, stopping them in their tracks. The center man, a small man carrying a hatchet in each hand, screamed as the fire overwhelmed his protection pouch. It flared with the now-familiar blue light of released magic, and the man disappeared in a huge ball of flame as the incredible heat of the hellfire melted and burned him at the same time. In seconds, it was impossible to identify anything that might have been human. His two surviving companions stopped in their tracks as the flames subsided, gasping for breath as they stared at the smoking black spot that used to be their friend. Luke called up his banshees, and the two Redeemers turned and ran. But there were many more. Another group pounded up the stairs, and the large open lawn became crowded with bodies.

  Dean’s movements drew my attention again. A Redeemer scored a small cut on Dean’s side with what looked like a scythe. A small flash of yellow light showed that Dean had absorbed the power from the strange weapon. Before I could blink, Dean took the weapon from his attacker and used it to cut the man’s arm off.

  Dean turned with the scythe in hand and looked at me. There was concern and intelligence in his eyes, showing that he might actually be in control of his bloodlust this time.

  It was time I stopped being useless and helped. Bodies were plentiful only a few feet away, and I sprinted into the clear path left behind Dean. I picked two bodies at random, and I laid my right hand on a Redeemer and my left on a death dealer. I felt the power flowing through me like a wave of nausea, there was a flash of light, and two new zombies climbed to their feet. I fell back, exhausted from the effort, and barely had the strength to whisper out the spell to bind them to me.

  One of the zombies spoke to me in a familiar voice. “About time you brought me back, girly! I’d a serious itch and no hands to deal with it.” Wanda turned and took in the scene before her. “Are you always hip deep in trouble, or do you just save it up for me? Never mind, my friend and I will make short work of these fools for you. But remember, deary, you need to find a way to give me a better body, something with a little staying power! That’s our deal!”

  I didn’t remember making Wanda any promises, but she didn’t wait around for me to work it out. The two zombies waded into the Redeemers, immediately taking horrible damage as weapons turned on them. They did some damage of their own, and two Redeemers dropped to the ground. I considered raising more, but I didn’t have the strength. I lay on the ground looking down at the black lines on my wrist. They’d begun to pulse slowly along with my heartbeat. I didn’t know how much time I had left, and using my powers seemed to make it worse.

  The situation before me had devolved into chaos. The Redeemers regrouped and started forward in a pack. Dean plowed a wide path down one side, and Luke’s banshees picked away at the other. A large swath had been cut through the center of the attacking group by the zombies. Redeemers milled in confusion, unsure where to turn or what horror to face first. They looked like they were mere seconds from breaking and running.

  Where was Mildred with her lightning? Had the old woman been killed? I scanned the field; there was no sign of Mildred. And then my thoughts turned to Jamie. I’d forgotten about her completely when I’d become overwrought with worry about Gage. Was she still crouching in the shadows, safely hidden?

  The old Redeemer, the one who’d screamed at Jacob, suddenly ran into the center of it all, screaming curses and orders. “Not them you idiots, the girl. Kill the girl!” For a moment, I thought he must be talking about Jamie, but then he raised his arm and pointed straig
ht at me.

  Four Redeemers began advancing on me. My protectors were busy elsewhere; I was an easy target, and they knew it. With a roar, they rushed at me in a tight group, four men and women with hate on their faces and bloodlust in their eyes. I took a deep breath, trying to gather the energy to defend myself. If I was going to die, I might as well go down swinging.

  My spirit pack sprang into the air around me. They shot forward toward my enemies, only to be jerked up short. The protection packs the Redeemers wore were keeping my pack from attacking them. My pack kept diving at the Redeemers. They kept attacking again and again, but to no avail. And then they seemed to all concentrate on one woman. I could see the glow of her protection pack, a blue shimmering light shining out from beneath her shirt. The more my spirit pack attacked her, the more the blue light began to fade. And then the light went out, and the pack piled in and pulled the woman to the ground. I heard her screams as they tore into her, their claws slicing her.

  Two men bore down on me from only an arm’s length away. I drew deeply for power, something I could hit them with, but there was nothing. I was far too weak to protect myself with magic.

  “Run, baby, run.” My mother’s words came back to me. I couldn’t get to my feet, let alone run. The demon poison had finally taken its toll. I was going to die here, right now. There was no time left.

  I looked up into the face of a man with a long, untrimmed beard. He hovered over me and then swung an axe far above his head, taking sideways stutter steps as he prepared to swing it down and bury it in my head.

  I closed my eyes and waited for the killing blow, but instead a great heat hit my body. I opened my eyes and watched as flames filled the air and covered the man standing before me. The heat of the flames forced me to crawl back as best I could—it was so hot that my skin stung wherever it was exposed. When the heat finally eased and I could lower my hands, I saw that a broad section of the lawn had been blackened. The Redeemers attacking me were gone, along with the dead bodies that had littered the ground. The blackened head of an axe lay a few feet in front of me.