“Hsk!”
Dystra’s hiss of anger pulled Logan’s gaze down from the glittering tower, and he saw what she’d noticed. The field before the tower wasn’t completely empty. Halfway between there and where the party stood was a large knot of black chains wrapped around a small round figure. Surrounding the chained Simon was an army of many thousands that seemed to be growing by the second. The figures were tall and clothed in glowing white armor, but their faces were hidden in deep shadows, making it impossible to tell their race.
“After all that, it’s this easy?” Becca asked with a crooked grin as she scanned the horde of demons and undead.
“BOOM!”
The world shook, nearly spilling Logan and the others off their feet. The earthquakes, or whatever they were, had been coming more and more often, but the party had grown used to the random shakes. Ignoring the noise, Logan surveyed the field before them.
The legions stood in ragged ranks. At the army’s head stood a familiar figure in black clothing. The slender man held a glittering blade before him in one hand and had a maniacal grin on his face. The two elves who stood at his side were garbed in the armor and accoutrements of White Knights, but instead of being pure white like Iyllia’s, theirs was grey with dirk and grime.
“You came the long way, brother!” Mordrek called, his white teeth flashing in a bright grin. “Your fat little friend is stronger than I thought, but then all of Delphi’s brood are. He’s managed to hang on to himself while you lot traipsed through the Rings… But you’re here now, brother, and that’s all that matters!”
Becca stepped up beside Logan, her twin blades unsheathed as she took in the massive army laid out before them. There wasn’t fear on the teen’s face but a small frown, Logan saw.
“Feels like déjà vu, doesn’t it?” Becca asked him with that crooked smile of hers slipping onto her lips. “Except we’re in Purgatory instead of a forest, and those things look more dangerous than the demons we fought.”
“Something feels… off about this,” Logan said, glancing up towards the heavens where the featureless gray sky had grown darker, with lights flashing somewhere up above.
Logan saw Iyllia’s expression grow still as she took in the legions and the elves standing at their fore.
“They stand with the Fallen One’s minions… What has become of my people?”
“They aren’t your people,” Logan said, reaching over and gripping the elven woman’s shoulder. “They’ve been corrupted by Mordrek… but can we face all of those?”
“No,” Syn said, the dark elf’s features paled as she took in the army before them.
“We don’t need to defeat them all,” Iyllia said, drawing her blades and stepping forward with a grim expression. “Only free the mortal. I will draw off the bulk of their forces while you all drive deep.” The high elf’s eyes found Syn’s and her lips quirked up into a grin. “Guess we won’t be able to have that rematch.”
“Foolish,” Syn said, and Logan thought he detected genuine anger in the elf’s tone when she spoke. “It’s a suicidal plan.”
“But it will work,” Iyllia said, stretching her wrists as she began to stride forward.
“Hold!” Logan said, his voice a whip crack of command that stopped the prideful elf in her tracks. “There’s another way.”
Turning, he found the demon-child from days before standing at the fore of the sea of souls. The child no longer held the glass tube of mind wiping drugs. Instead, the girls’ eyes shone with hope as she watched Logan turn back to face her.
“Sire?” Syn asked, her face scrunched up in confusion as she watched Logan turn his back on the army of darkness and his friend.
“It’s like the lost races in Fae,” Logan said softly, ignoring the angry cry of Mordrek as he shouted after Logan. “They’ve been forgotten… left to rot here for the rest of time because the Gods can’t be bothered to clean up their messes.”
“Logan?” Becca asked, “Aren’t we going to fight them?”
“We will not fight for you, Wyrm.” The giant from the first night stood behind the demon-child, his angular features turned down in a frown.
“And for salvation?” Logan asked softly, his eyes locked on those of the child’s.
Reaching out a hand, the young man opened his heart to her. He wasn’t sure how he’d known it was possible, but he’d suspected he could do this for days now. Ever since his conversation with the girl, and after several well-placed questions with Syn and Iyllia, he’d come to understand something of the Grace the child spoke of.
Fearing the truths about himself it might reveal, Logan drew upon the magic that slumbered within his breast. Unlike Fae or Earth magic, the power lay dormant until he’d come to this realm. Unable to access or draw upon it, he’d learned something of its nature during his sessions with Syn and Becca in the evenings and mornings.
The same power that bound the witches, Becca and the others, was what replenished their reserves and mana. It flowed through him in this place, because it was of it. There was a lot he didn’t know, but if he was going to wear this stupid crown on his head, he was going to make it mean something, as he had in Fae.
“Bend the knee in service and I will provide what succor and salvation I can for your souls.”
“Pretty, empty words,” The giant growled, “What would we gain in service to a mortal?”
“Service without sacrifice is a sin… I’m giving you a chance to do something good.”
“You would shackle us with chains,” grumbled another deeper in the crowd.
“Chains of faith,” the demon-child said, and to Logan’s surprise and the shock of those around him, the child knelt and raised her face to Logan.
The girls’ eyes widened as Logan felt something shift within him, like the tumbler of a lock clicking into place. The giant didn’t stop the child, nor the dozen or so others who knelt, but he didn’t, nor did the vast majority of the souls standing before Logan.
Instead of feeling let down that so few joined his cause, Logan looked upon the fifteen kneeling souls with the same weight of responsibility he felt for Becca, the witches and all the rest. Then his eyes filled with tears as he contemplated what was to befall them.
These souls were the same as he had been for most of his life. Unloved and seen as nothing more than a burden. Logan had been left to fend for himself most of his childhood, bouncing from foster home to foster home, fed every religion under the sun by those who would see him become carbon copies of themselves instead of his own person.
His heart aching because he couldn’t give them what they so desperately desired, Logan swore a silent oath to himself, stitching the words across his heart.
“Any who fight for me… all those who bleed or die for me, will have a seat in my hall, this I swear upon everything I hold holy and dear.”
BOOM!
The world rattled, stronger than ever before, and Logan lifted his head to take in the dark gray clouds roiling like bubbling water as the elves and Becca stood straight. The little demon girl crouched on all fours; her eyes locked upon Simon’s still form. The portly young man knelt with his head bowed, arms crossed behind himself and heavy black chains crisscrossing his body, holding him in place.
Logan wasn’t watching his friend though, nor was he watching the women as they readied their weapons with grim expressions of Mordrek as his face twisted in fury at being ignored. The anger directed at him from above was unlike anything he’d felt before. Similar to the love he’d basked in while making love to the goddesses, only far more potent.
BOOM!
“Face me, brother! Come out here and meet your end!”
Logan tuned out the man’s sad bleating, his face hardening as the hairs rose on the back of his arms and neck.
“Becca, you’ll need to deal with Mordrek. Keep him alive and don’t let him escape. I want to question my brother when this is all over. Iyllia, you’ll need to lead my legion, I’ll be… preoccupied,” the high elf
let out a small sound of anger from the back of her throat at being commanded, but Logan ignored it as he did the woman’s glare. “Dystra, free Simon. Then get him to safety.”
“And me, sire?” Syn asked, her voice breathless as she watched the churning mass of dark angels with an eager glint in her eyes.
“Keep them off my back,” Logan said, reaching over his shoulder and drawing Excalibur. The blade hadn’t cleared the sheath when everything happened at once.
Chapter 24
Dystra caught the faintest hint of Simon’s scent, and her limbs trembled as she struggled to keep herself from charging forward and tearing her way to him. The Dark Legion would be the death of her, and even in her enraged state she knew that.
Logan spoke with his gangly limbed cunts, planning an assault, but the demoness listened with only half an ear. The man wasn’t a total fool, she had to admit to herself, and he’d even shown compassion for the dead demon girl, something Dystra hadn’t imagined possible.
Frustration growing, Dystra spun to snap at the man and get his ass lumbering out into the field to cut her a path to Simon. Only Logan wasn’t watching the Dark Legion, or the angry man who claimed to be his brother. His face was turned upward, eyes sad and face firm with determination. Dystra wanted to scream at the fledgling king that Simon needed his aid, then she noticed the demon-child kneeling, and felt the pull towards Logan.
BOOM!
The ground rippled under Dystra’s feet, spreading in a wave from Logan’s position and throwing most from their feet. The angry little human standing before the legion shouted again, but Dystra ignored the man, her attention fixed on the faint flow of celestial magic that passed between the souls and Logan. Nearly invisible, the connections were newly forged, but the bonds of faith flowed in both directions, a thing that should have been impossible.
“Goddess?” Dystra breathed, suddenly feeling more alone than she ever had when hunting the human realm by herself for centuries. There was no answer from the Demon’s Goddess, as there hadn’t been for many years and Dystra was left bereft, her eyes flickering to Simon as she flexed her claws.
Perhaps she should have been paying attention to what the fat boobed girls around her were saying, because they suddenly drew their weapons and got ready.
“Dystra.”
Eyes cold as glacial ice locked her in place, and the young human no longer seemed the least bit foolish or silly. Something slumbered within that gaze. Something alien and more powerful than the demon’s mind could comprehend. A part of her quacked and wanted to draw back from the man, while another part of her flooded with the thrill of battle.
“Free Simon.” Each word fell upon Dystra’s shoulders like a yoke, and instead of resenting the man’s authority, she found herself welcoming it. “Then get him to safety.”
In the demon’s mind were images of her home and the Demon Queen’s court. The foolish human had no clue what he’d just done. Grinning fiercely, Dystra turned with the human at her side and the fat boobed elves out at their flanks.
“The moment I lay claws on my Simon, I’ll take him to Fae where he can be safe!” Fingering the single use Recall Ring on her finger, the Demon grinned fiercely.
Iyllia tried to ignore the doubts pressing in on her thoughts as she slipped into a ready stance. As the hordes of the Dark Legion raced towards them, she refused to look at the strange human as he stared into the heavens.
Logan confused Iyllia. The man showed indifference where male elves would have been consumed with pride. What she’d thought, weakness at first, was proving to be a deep well of compassion, born from a tragic past that Becca informed her of.
Honor demanded the White Knight stand and give her life, if need be, to free the innocent soul of his friend, but she hadn’t been ready to want to give her life in service to him. Nor was she prepared for the poor souls that stepped up to her sides to aid her cause. Weapons appeared in their hands, but most looked untrained and unprepared for what descended upon them.
“Hold fast!”
Iyllia’s cry was swallowed by the sound of pounding feet, but the example she set put steel in their spines. Striding forward, the high elf’s blades spun before her in graceful arcs as she cut deep into the first few ranks.
The high elf’s confidence was rock-solid as she cut down the first half-dozen, but she’d never felt the joy that bubbled up in her breast before. It took a few seconds to realize, as she cut down a pair that tried to get at the demon-child, that it was because she felt no remorse for cutting down these enemies. For the first time in her life, she faced creatures of pure evil, forged from the firmament of Hell itself.
Catching sight of the human Becca’s duel with Logan’s brother, Iyllia felt the thrill of competition fill her. The girl moved with an unearthly grace that belied her Ascendant heritage. In only a few days of tutelage, Becca had absorbed techniques that had taken the high elf centuries to master. Not only had she learned them, but Iyllia could see she was now adapting them to her own tactics and strategies.
Behind her, Iyllia could hear the sweep and swish of Syn’s spear as it cut through the air. The dark elf was flanked by a small squad of souls, and she’d taken to barking orders at them as if she were their Commander. The four souls worked as a team, defending Logan’s flanks as Syn danced around her lord, fighting to keep the dark soldiers away.
“Traitorous bitch!” hissed a voice in elven from within the dark soldier’s ranks.
“Always wanted to taste the Second’s sweet cunt.” Hissed another from Iyllia's right.
“You can have her old pussy… I’m raping her ass!”
The words, spoken in her own tongue, but voices she recognized shocked Iyllia, but not enough to slow her reaction as her enemies intended. The dark soldiers melted back as a ragged figure slashed at Iyllia’s flank.
Spinning a blade to deflect the attack, she recognized the man, and his brothers as they came dashing in to attack. The three had never been the best of them, but she’d always thought of them as solid, dependable knights. To see them fallen so far, broke her heart, and nearly got her killed as she pulled back from a killing blow against one of the brothers, opening herself up to a slash at her neck from another.
Rolling clear with her own hot blood coating her shoulder and right breast, Iyllia drew on centuries of training and pushed the emotions out of her mind. Relying on instinct, and her own reactions over thought, the golden-haired elf threw herself into the fight with single-minded determination.
Ly’Synthia had faced foes the length and breadth of Fae, but she’d never confronted a force that worked together so perfectly.
Of a height with herself, the dark soldiers fought like automatons. With faces that were blank masks and rigid posture, the commander thought cutting them down would be simple, but her first few confrontations disabused her of that notion.
Each dark soldier fought like a trained warrior, with either long sword and shield or pike. Instead of forming shield walls, they formed in small squads, shields protecting the pike-wielders who sought to pin Syn and the others down so the swordsmen could hack at them. The tactics were sound but made excellent by the dark soldiers’ seamless and silent communication.
After cutting down a half dozen, before her Sire’s new subjects came to help, Syn knew she was going to be hard pressed to keep them off Logan. She didn’t know what he had planned but the determination in his eyes filled her with pride and a hungry desire.
“Keep them off him!” she shouted at the four scared souls that clustered close. Pointing, she directed two to one side and two to the other. “We form a triangle, fall back if you’re pressed and call to me when it’s too much. Understand?”
All four heads nodded in agreement, but Syn could see fear and confusion filling three of them. Pointing at the taller man who held his ethereal spear with familiarity, she ordered him to take charge of the others, all while her spear stabbed and swept around her, parrying the stabbing pike-wielders before they could
get at her new allies.
Chapter 25
Becca swept aside the angry man’s feeble attack and cut a slice along one of his arms. Mordrek ignored the injury and shouted at Logan again, trying in vain to get his brother’s attention.
“Out of my way, girl,” he growled. “My business is with your Master… not… you!”
Try as he might, he couldn’t break Becca’s defenses, and the teen found his attempts lacked the skill she remembered him having when he’d last fought Logan.
“Logan has bigger fish to fry than you,” she said with a snort of laughter that only enraged the man further. “Can’t you make it a challenge? Or should I drop you and help Iyllia… Your troops might be tougher than you are.”
“YEAAA!!!”
Mordrek’s scream of rage didn’t give the man any added talent with his blade, and Becca sighed in disappointment as she curled her left hand down and spun the right up. The flashing blades deflected the man’s thrust, and parried his counterattack, then Becca was inside his guard, her mouth filling with his putrid stench as she punched the pommel of one blade into Mordrek’s temple, dropping his at her feet like a stone.
“Ugh, he reeks!”
No one acknowledged Becca’s victory or shout of annoyance, and she was dealing with a squad of dark soldiers a second later as they poured into the gap Mordrek left when he fell. Turning, she saw Syn hard pressed on all sides, but the dark elf had managed to keep the dark soldiers away from their lord.
As she looked, Becca spotted the tiny demon-child pushed back and stumble as a pike rose. Heart in her throat, Becca could only watch in horror as the pike fell, crushing the child’s black chest. Unable to fight her way to the child’s side, it was crushed beneath the dark soldiers’ heavy boots.
Logan’s eyes were fixed on the heavens, where something bright was breaking through the roiling clouds. Becca saw her friend’s fingers trembling as the sword lifted free of his scabbard, but instead of bending down to hold the child, he rose into the air.
Coven Master 4: (A Harem Fantasy) Page 12
