The Grim Legion

by Kindred Ult

  "Lucifer! Lucif—" He stopped, and the sudden absence of sound of any kind was far more unnerving than his screaming had ever been. Even the pain left his ruined face, and in the silence his eyes moved around his skull quickly, searching. For a moment he squinted, as if trying to look at something that was far off, and then his eyes flew open, and an expression of complete, mindless fear enveloped his face. Never before had any of them seen such a complete example of pure horror. This time his scream was one of pathetic fear, not pain, and even though he had only stubs of arms and legs left, he tried desperately to crawl away from whatever it was he had seen.

  "No! No!" He was somehow screaming even louder than before, which made Varus suddenly wonder how he was doing so with lungs and heart as destroyed as they were. It would not be the strangest thing he had ever seen in this forest, though.

  "Stay away! Someone, anyone! Save me!" He still screamed, and rocked back and forth in his pitiful attempt at escaping, succeeding only in rolling himself over so that he could only see the ground around him. Not being able to see only increased his frenzied struggles, and finally was able to get back up onto his back. Once he did, it looked like he was going to continue screaming, but then his face turned deathly pale, and with almost white eyes he turned his face to Demenn and spoke in an almost-inaudible whisper.

  "Demenn. Demenn please save me. That's what you do, right? You save people. Please keep him away from me." The calm in his voice, which was so sudden compared to screaming of earlier, sent chills down Varus's spine. He saw Demenn, who had recovered himself from his earlier collapse, but whose skin looked red like a human who had spent too much time in the sun, walk toward Dimitrious hesitantly. Unconsciously, his voice was also quiet.

  "Keep who from you, Dimitrious? Who is after you?"

  Even though he had just asked for help, Dimitrious now did not even seem to be listening. He was looking afar off. Demenn tried once again, slightly louder.

  "Dimitrious, from who?"

  The abrupt break of the silence jerked Dimitrious' head around to Demenn, and then he spoke again, his voice so quiet humans would not even be able to catch it.

  "He's coming." Varus thought he heard a footstep to the side, and turned, but nothing was there. "He's playing with me." He saw Niethel spin about, his sword and dirk in hand, and then spin around once again, his eyes wide. "He's skirting around me like a wolf with prey." Even Brand deepened his stance, closed his eyes, and grabbed his sword's hilt in one hand. "I can feel him, but then he's gone." A shadow to the side, just at the very edge of his vision, caused Varus's head to snap to the side. Again, nothing. "He's...He's..." His words had gradually began to slow, and his head lull to the side, but suddenly he jerked his head back to Demenn and spoke with shocking clarity. "He's here." Then, as clear as day, the air in the middle of them began to darken and shimmer, and for some reason he could not understand, Varus suddenly felt very cold. A shiver ran down his back.

  A dark split appeared in the air, but when it opened into a black circle, only a man walked out. He was a stately man, dressed very primly in a completely white military-like suit that seemed to glow just a bit. His face was without a doubt beautiful, but the smile on it seemed completely out of place. His eyes were pure blue, his hair even more white than his suit, and it hung down completely straight all around his head, reaching almost to his shoulders. He had a manly physique, but still seemed slightly feminine. Varus had no idea who it was, but when he looked to Demenn, he saw immediate recognition. Then he remembered what Dimitrious had screamed, and wondered if this was, in fact, Lucifer. The man looked around at everyone and increased his smile to a point just passed what should be possible, and then spoke.

  "Demenn! What a pleasant surprise." His voice was high, but tempered. With that and the way he slightly twirled his fingers in excitement, he definitely looked effeminate to Varus. "I had not expected to see you alive still. Smart work you made of my general, by-the-way, smashing victory. You simply must take better care of your body, though, what would happen if it gave out on you? What would be fun about that?" He walked up to Demenn with feet that seemed to barely touch the ground with each step. He stopped in front of him and swept his eyes over him. For a moment his eyes caught on the sword still in Demenn's hand, and the expression on his face turned to one of complete disgust and even anger, but in another moment t was gone like it had never been there.

  "I see you were the one chosen to carry around that horrible sword. Does it really hurt as much as they say? I honestly can't tell you how happy I was when I watched Vladimir," He paused for a moment, his eyes rolling back and forth in the top of his head. "Or whatever his name was, stab E. And I was even happier when I saw him die. It just feels like a personal accomplishment of sorts, I suppose. I was hoping that he would come and visit me afterwards, but it seems he wasn't able to make our appointment. A shame, that, I had some delightful events planned for his stay. But oh well, how have you been, been eating your blood regularly? You're looking a little thin. Oh!"

  Just as fast as he had begun the conversation, he spun and swayed to Varus, who was just now changing back into his normal form, and feeling the back of his shoulder. "My my, now aren't you just a wonderful little specimen, you. A very good choice, Demenn. Definitely worth keeping alive. Hmm, yes, one of the best I've seen in a very long time. Oh," He stopped abruptly, lost his smile, and cocked his head to the side, his now-black eyes boring into Varus's. After a moment he straightened his head and his eyes were blue once again. "and I like what I see in your heart. Very good, you should definitely follow through with those thoughts of yours. Speaking of hearts, you should probably eat Dimitrious' heart soon, or you're going to lose some of the precious blood you've tried so hard to attain. Ah, wait, let me do it." He stretched out his hand, and the ends of the veins from the heart closed themselves up. "There you go, now... Oooo! Who's this?"

  Once again, he was off, and he swept along the ground as flamboyantly as ever to Brand, who's hand still rested on his sword's handle. "Now here's a nice face. An elf, right? Wait," He closed his eyes and thrust his hands into the air dramatically. "I'm also picking up signs of werewolf as well. First class too." His face took on a look of curiosity as he bent over and looked into Brand's empty eye sockets. "Ew, that's pretty nasty, werelf, you know I could fix that for the small price of nine ninety-five."

  "I've got it covered." Brand spoke stiffly. He had his face averted from the man in front of him, as if looking him in the face was painful somehow.

  "Ha-hah, so I see. Oh, that's right, you're Brand, how could I have forgotten? You've done some wonderful things, both for me and against me. My favorite had to have been when you ate that dwarf and when you beat Demenn to a pulp so that you could save a werepyre. Yep, beautiful work, I cried. It's funny, but you're more important to this entire orchestration than you ever could have been as just an..." He took on a look of comedic disgust and flicked his hands as if trying to clean them. "eye-sight impaired elf. In fact, you might become very useful to me, yes. You're definitely one I'm going to be paying very close attention to you. Very," he reached out one hand and ran his strangely-long and sharp fingernails along the rim on Brand's jaw. "Very close attention. Tata!"

  To his credit, Brand had not moved when being caressed by him, and even did not let out the sigh of relief he had obviously felt when he finally danced off to finish his circle. The last he came in front of was Niethel, who was shaking for a reason he did not understand. When he reached him, he pranced forward a bit, and Niethel jerked back a bit in response, keeping the distance between them.

  "Awww," He chuckled. "you're afraid of me, aren't you? Even though you think that you have no reason to be. Trust me, you should believe your instincts on this one. You should most certainly be afraid of me, but not at the moment! Now let's see, hmmm..." once again he cocked his head the the side, with his thumb and forefinger stroking his chin. When he straightened, though, there was a quizzical look on his face. "Well, that's str
ange... there's really nothing very special about you, is there? Nothing at all. In fact, what I'm wondering about is why Demenn even allowed someone as...nobodyish as you around him. Hmm, probably just needed to have a full group or something. Or maybe you're the comic relief. What was your name again? Wait, nevermind, doesn't really matter now does it? Because it's not like I'll ever have to think of you again after this moment. Although... you do have a very nice face. Yep, very pretty. If you ever visit my realm be sure to look me up, I'll keep you close to me." He leaned in so close that Niethel could feel his breath on his neck. "Very close." He whispered, before spinning around and walking off. Unlike Brand, Niethel collapsed to his knees when it was over, looking completely exhausted.

  Smiling from enjoyment, Lucifer walked away and finally saw the last of the inhabitants of the tent. He squealed in delight and skipped to him before bending over and placing his hands on his knees.

  "Well now, if it isn't the man of the hour. My liaison to the vampires for at least a thousand years or so. Ah, now don't you look terrible. Here, let me fix that." With a wave of his hand, Dimitrious' body floated into the air, righted itself, and then all of the other countless pieces floated up and joined to it. In moments he looked like nothing had ever happened, and then he was set back to the earth. His eyes were full of fear still, and once he hit the ground, he spun around and began to run away. Once he took his first step, however, his leg fell apart into the parts it had been before, swiftly followed by the rest of his body. Once his torso hit, alone once again, where it had rested before, Lucifer doubled over laughing.

  "Ah, rats. I guess I never really was very good at fixing problems, was I? I'm more of a troublemaker than a trouble-solver. But oh, man, you should look at yourself right now, Dmitri. All of these years you've served me and done my bidding well. You were never killed, and so I blessed you. You always knew, though, what would happen if you misused my gifts, and failed with them. What's even more funny is the fact that you've had these abilities for so long that you take them for granted and consider them yours, rather than what they are. In almost every fight you've been in since about five hundred years ago, if not for the abilities I've granted you, you would have been killed. It just had to happen that you'd meet someone who was able to counter those abilities, wasn't it."

  He walked up and placed his hand of Dimitrious' back. He raised it again, and Dimitrious followed, just an inch below his palm. "Yep, you got overconfident, old man, and now look at you. You're a failure." His voice got slightly deeper, and anger and disgust crept in. "you've seen how I deal with failures, haven't you? I recall you laughing at them when you saw me torturing them. You should have taken it as the warning it was, and become cautious. But no, you swore that it would never happen to you, and believed it too, and you laughed at them, secure in the knowledge that you would never fail." He smirked. "And now you have, Dimitrious, and I've come to collect the debt you owe for these last thousand years, plus interest. Believe me, I intend to get every penny back from you, and even more."

  His voice just a hoarse gasp, Dimitrious hung limply from where he was suspended in the air. "No, I could...I could still fix this if you'd...just give me some more power."

  Lucifer's smile faded, and he jerked his hand up, bringing Dimitrious and him face to face. Fury was in his face, and his voice was now a deep, distorted scream. "More power! I've given you far more than you ever deserved. I brought you from nothing to the third strongest in the land! And what have I received in payment? Nothing! No, you've used up your contract, and now it's time to fulfill your end of the deal!"

  When he brought the body back down, his smile was back up, and even his eyes smiled with it, disturbingly. "I'm sorry you all had to see and hear that. I hope it won't keep you from taking my hand when the time comes for me to extend it to you. As you can see, and will see, failure is not tolerated more than once, and the price to be paid at the end of the journey is high, but I can assure you with great certainty that none of you will survive the battle you are going into without my help. Just think of what I was able to do to this worm, a nobody, and what I could do with almost all of you, who are mighty warriors...Well, except for you, Othy. You will accept my power, and at my terms, before you're done, and we'll live a very long time together, mark my words."

  He walked lithely back to the portal, with the body and head of Dimitrious jerking and screaming for help at every step. When he reached it, he tossed Dimitrious' still screaming body into it and then walked in himself. For a moment, nothing happened, and then he stuck his head back out and said gayly.

  "Be seein' you soon, boys."

  His head jerked back inside and the portal slowly closed back after him. Nobody moved or spoke for a very long time, maybe ten or twenty minutes, until finally it was Niethel who stood to his feet and sighed.

  "I think I pissed myself."

  It was as if a string had snapped, and then as one they breathed out breaths they had not known they had kept in. Demenn and Brand chuckled, while Varus smiled. He looked down at the heart in his hand, then at the pile of limbs left of Dimitrious, and finally to Demenn, who nodded his head. Varus then put the heart to his lips, stuck his teeth into it and drank all of its blood before finally eating the flesh as well. It tasted completely delicious, far better than the other hearts he had eaten. It was like it had gotten better with age like a fine wine.

  In another moment, his mind was bombarded by thousands of years worth of experiences, knowledge, emotions, and events. He almost blacked out entirely at the information dump, but he stubbornly kept on looking, amazed by all that this vampire had seen. Many years simply passed by in an instance, and only moments of great importance stayed for even a moment. It seemed to take a lifetime, but when he opened his eyes and saw that he was kneeling Demenn was still walking to him.

  He stood back up and swiftly thought over all that had happened. Much of it caught his interest, but two specific facts blared out past all of the others. The first one he began to speak.

  "Demenn, Lueke, he's—"

  "I know, Varus, N'colto told me before he died." Demenn put his hand to the others shoulder before passing him by. "That's why I think we may have a chance at winning this war."

  "I noticed as well, the first moment I saw him, and was going to bring it up at the meeting of war." Brand took his hand from his sword and stood motionlessly except to rub his empty eye sockets, as if having the evil presence gone was a relief.

  Varus turned to keep Demenn in his sight. "But how can that be possible?"

  Demenn walked to his bed and dropped the sword on the ground in front of it before sitting down on it. "I don't know, but we're going to find out."

  "Wait," Niethel walked between them and looked from one to the other. "What?"

  Demenn smiled again. "You'll find out at the meeting, Niethel."

  As Niethel voiced his disapproval, Varus thought about the second fact that he had understood, and nothing he thought about comforted him. 'Lucifer was right. We will all die without his help.'

  A Deep Breath

  26

  A Deep BreathDamian had wasted very little time falling asleep on his bedding. Even despite the presence of the twelve dead vampires and their pools of blood on his floor, he found that rest came swiftly. His sleep was dreamless, and he could only be thankful for that in his own unconscious way, as any dreams would surely be driven by his first physical meeting with Lucifer and all that he had learned. Such dreams would very doubtfully be pleasant, and the even stranger dreams were still not preferable to the blissful vacuum of oblivion that came with a dreamless sleep. All cares, worries, and fears were gone from him, completely forgotten past the point of recollection. All that there was, was nothing, and it was comforting. Even beautiful. He wondered if this was what death would be like, and for a moment thought, if it was, it was a mystery why men and immortals alike feared it.

  Why had he fought for so long against death if it was this beautiful? If such blissful obli
vion really awaited all, without evidence of all of the weights that drag one down in living or of the ever-present feeling of pointlessness, then why had he feared it? If this was true, then would it have been better to starve in the alley rather than stab that woman, better to be lynched by his gang than defile the woman, better to let the bandits live and sacrifice himself, better to let the Wulf live with his actions, and simply have given himself up into the arms of the ever-comforting darkness which now covered him like a warm blanket.

  But then, he wondered, if death were so painless, and welcoming, then why would he fear it? Was it his sense that if he had given up, he would have failed? Was it that he had a drive inside him greater than any other to continue his existence, to never surrender to the black hands always clutching at his back? Was his fierce battle with death born out of ignorance, or nature? Many times he had been close to death, breathing his own blood, and never had he felt this calmness, this relief, this loss of urgency. Death was pain. Death was torment. Death was knowing that his entire life was pointless, and accepting it. Death was defeat.

  So then death could not be how he felt at that moment. Or could it? No answers would come to him in his unconscious mind. But it was then that he realized that this was not a dreamless sleep, else otherwise thoughts would not permeate it, but rather it was a dream of nothing. What must be driving this thought-provoked dream he did not know, but now that he realized it he felt that even a dream with Lucifer in it would be preferable. He felt wrong for having this dream, with its beauty and perfection, while others had nightmares or could not sleep at all. He did not deserve his sanctuary. He was not worthy of a beautiful death, or of a life after death.