by Allan Cole
On the very edge of his protective pentagram he saw his WarSpirits battling and dying one by one.
Davyd’s assault was so fierce, so full of overwhelming hate that Vlad’s first line of defense was smashed and burned with no hope of resurrection.
The second line of Vlad’s defenses rushed forward to join the battle.
This was his most powerful arsenal— the ancient Church Of The Sword spells, used so sparingly that few knew they existed.
The flame around Vlad flared hotter and higher. Twisting and curling in on him. An enormous weight pressed down on the Russian, blood streamed from his nose and his bones felt like they were being strained to the breaking point.
But no matter how hard Davyd tried, he was unable to blast through Vlad’s shield.
Vlad felt the pressure weaken slightly. This was his chance!
It was time for the counterstrike. Let this Amer be roasted in the very heart of Hell!
Vlad spat blood and burst forward, leaping into the flame.
And mad magic rushed over him.
* * *
An enormous purple and yellow globe rose, swirling crazily over the ruins of the small hotel.
All over the city hysterical people were fleeing the destruction wrought by the battle. Streets were jammed and the traffic was a hopeless snarl backed up for miles— the police had been among the first to flee the scene.
People were shouting their terror, screaming for someone— anyone— to help them.
But there was no help to be had.
Only the Planetar Demon, feeding hungrily on their fears. In turn, he fed still more power into the fight between Davyd and Vlad.
Lifting it to sorcerous levels unknown in all history …
* * *
… Blackness fell from his eyes and the Archangel Michael raised his gaze.
Behind him were the green-blossoming leaves of an Eternal Eden. A heavenly universe filled with countless stars and worlds and living things stretched before him.
A wondrous universe, cunningly and lovingly forged by the Father of all things of lesser strength.
It was his duty, the duty of the Archangel, to keep and to protect this beauty— so fragile, so subtle, so defenseless.
And aye, there was something to protect it from. A shadow lurking in deep places, hiding beyond the dying stars. A Creeper, driven by pure evil to destroy all beauty, all wonders— all that was saintly and sweet.
A flaming sword suddenly appeared in Michael’s hands. He peered deeper into the shadows, searching … searching …
And … lo! What was happening? What was this terrible shape approaching this paradise of eternal rest where leaves never fell?
How dare this cursed Fiend, this enemy above all enemies, this Fallen One— how dare he spoil the surroundings of Eden’s Garden with his foul breath?
Lucifer was approaching. Face twisted in anger, he was in the shape of the Horned One, his long red tail lashing back and forth.
Behind the fiend Michael saw an enormous army marching forward. A huge legion straight out the forces of Pandemonium.
The Archangel burned with anger, the flames leaping higher off his glowing sword. No matter how many, he would kill them all!
“Come forth Forces of Light!” Michael commanded.
And he stalked forward to meet the enemy, his own legions soaring up to support his attack.
The Devil roared in mockery. His clawed fist shot upright and a great yellow starburst imploded. Transforming into a supernova that swallowed all the surrounding planets.
Even from afar, Michael could hear the death cries of millions of tortured innocents.
“Forward!” he shouted, lifting his sword.
The two armies crashed together, thunderclap upon thunderclap rolling and rumbling through the starry skies.
Dark Sea met White Sea. Light and Darkness grappled in everlasting strife.
Michael’s glittering sword clashed against Lucifer’s flaming scimitar.
The blades shattered, unleashing an awful power that swept onward and upward in a great burning tidal wave.
Michael moaned in agony as he saw a whole galaxy collapse into itself.
“Oh, no!” he cried.
“Oh, aye!” mocked Lucifer.
Both enemies were now weaponless. But they still had tremendous powers at their command— powers steadily fed by the Planetar Demon who lurked just out of sight.
The two combatants advanced on one other. Now they would fight hand-to-hand.
Stars exploded one after another as the two warriors locked in a deadly embrace.
The Void itself caught fire when dark blood flowed into light.
And then there was a great shout:
“Stop! Stop, you fools!”
Michael felt his enemy’s grip suddenly relax. He was so startled that his grasp weakened as well.
That voice! That voice!
She floated toward them, white garments flowing over lush curves. Face glowing. To Michael and Lucifer she was the queen of love and beauty. The one … the only one …
So powerful was their attraction to her that both combatants instantly ended their fight. And stepped apart.
“Look at each other!” cried the goddess of love. “Look close and see what is true and what is false!”
Michael obeyed— as did his opponent.
And what … what had happened?
Light cast off by the woman’s shimmering garments dissolved Lucifer’s evil mask.
And Michael found himself staring into the eyes of his heavenly twin!
“You are equal, don’t you understand?” the woman demanded. “One and the same.”
Equal? The same?
How could this be?
“I’ll tell you,” Tanya said.
And there was no doubt in either man that the woman standing before them was the true Tanya, not a ghostly clone created and manipulated by magic.
Then she took both their hands and the spell that had chained them suddenly fell away.
And Davyd and Vlad found themselves looking into one another’s eyes.
Then they both turned and saw Tanya’s beautiful face.
* * *
Angry and cursing oaths so fierce that they peeled away space and time, the Planetar Demon fled to his sanctuary.
Where had that woman come from? How was it possible for her to possess the magical power to interfere with his plans?
Suddenly, he became afraid.
It was absolutely necessary that he prepare to defend himself.
And for the first time in his long, long life, the Planetar Demon knew the true terrifying meaning of mortal time.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Davyd and Vlad suddenly found themselves standing on the command deck of an enormous spaceship whose gloomy interior stretched out in every direction.
Twin beams of ruby light spotlighted each man, puddling on the metal floor and flowing outward to illuminate Tanya standing between them.
Her arms were outstretched as if she were physically holding them apart, although she was positioned several feet away.
In one hand— raised to confront Vlad— she held a silver cross— the symbol of the Church Of The Sword. In the other was an Odysseus Corps medallion with a single blue eye glaring out of its center. This she presented for Davyd to see.
“I know your secret,” she said to both men. “I know all about Odysseus Corps and the Church Of The Sword. As a matter of fact, I know more about them than either of you.”
Neither Davyd or Vlad replied. Both of them were still in the throes of battle must. Every cell of their bodies infused with fighting hormones.
Tanya saw them struggling to break free of the spell she held them in and she called out to Billy and Scratch, who came forward out of the gloom.
“We have to the strengthen the spell,” she said. “We’ve got to get them calmed down enough to hear me out.”
Billy stared at the men, eyes wide in fearful awe of th
ese two hate-driven warriors. He could feel his own magical powers weakening against the onslaught of their fierce wills to slay one another at any cost.
“Be strong, Little Friend of the World,” Old Scratch said, gently placing a massive claw on his shoulder. “Together, the three of us can succeed.”
“All right, Scratchy,” Billy said, nervously licking his lips. “I’ll try as hard as I can.”
And then, with Tanya in the center, the three concentrated on bolstering their common spell. Light sparkled from the silver cross and medallion that Tanya held.
At the same time the ruby red spotlights that pinned Davyd and Vlad to the deck grew brighter and brighter, casting back the deep shadows that filled the immense chamber of the ship.
Gradually Vlad and Davyd became more aware of their surroundings. They were still filled with hate for each other, but now they could see Tanya more clearly. And the tide of their combative emotions began to retreat.
It was only a slight retreat, but it had the effect of allowing their love for her to flow into the gap. And slowly, ever so slowly, that love gained sway over them.
Both men suddenly felt exhausted. Drained of all energy. First Davyd, then Vlad slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Immediately, Tanya broke the spell and the beams of light vanished.
“Let them rest for awhile,” she said to Billy and Scratch. “Then we’ll tell them what’s going on.”
Billy shook his head, feeling very sorry for the men. “Boy, are they gonna be surprised,” he said. “But not a nice surprise, that’s for sure. They’ve been cheated their whole lives. I sure wouldn’t want to wake up and find that out!”
“At least they now have the chance to put things right,” Tanya said. “But first we have to pray they shake off a thousand years of brainwashing.”
The boy smiled up at her. She was so pretty, he thought. And so nice. And brave, too. In a way, maybe even braver than Davyd and Vlad. It seemed strange to him that not long ago he’d believed Tanya to be one of his worst enemies.
But now they were the best of friends. This thought made his hurt about the death of his grandparents and Lupe lessen somewhat. Also, now it seemed there was finally a chance to revenge what had been done to them.
As if reading his thoughts, Scratch said, “More things may be accomplished than just revenge, Little Friend of the World. More things, indeed!”
* * *
When the two men regained consciousness, Tanya led them through the ship, whose name was the Centaur. They were both dazed and very weak and made no protest, trailing behind her like two obedient children.
They were not so dazed, however, that they didn’t notice the strangeness of the enormous ship. To begin with the command deck of the Centaur possessed none of the usual operating instruments. Instead, there were mysterious, many colored runes that crawled over and through a huge hologram of the ship.
When Old Scratch saw their puzzled expressions, he felt moved to explain “As you both can see,” the Engine Devil said, “this ship was not designed by softskins. It was constructed long ago by spiritworld folk using principles unknown to human wizards.”
Davyd shook his head. “I don’t see how that’s possible,” he said.
“Nor do I,” agreed Vlad.
“Nonetheless, it is true,” Scratchy replied. “Thine own eyes cannot deny what is set before them.”
Davyd nodded in grudging admission. The huge, oddly formed seats scattered about the bridge of the Centaur underscored Scratchy’s statement. It didn’t take much imagination to realize they were built to receive the weighty bulk of large demons. And the controls built into the long armrests were shaped to fit talons, not fingers.
“Who were these creatures?” Vlad demanded. “And what do they have to do with us?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Tanya said. “Just be patient and follow me.”
They did what she said and soon they were moving along wide corridors with high vaulted ceilings. As they walked, light bloomed all around, illuminating the way.
The light revealed that the walls and ceilings of the corridors were covered with livid scenes— some quite horrifying— of ferocious creatures and strange, other worldly landscapes.
They passed many chambers with open doorways large enough to accommodate a race of giants. The lights bloomed into life in some of those rooms and Davyd and Vlad saw all sorts of bizarre objects:
Racks of ancient human weapons, ranging from primitive clubs to great battle axes and exotic swords and armor. Displays of human skeletons and bubbling jars filled with heads and other body parts.
Black magic apothecaries crammed with evil-smelling ingredients in odd containers with mysterious symbols carved on their surfaces.
“Gives you the shivers, doesn’t it?” Billy commented.
Both Davyd and Vlad reflexively shuddered in reaction to his statement. But they said nothing in reply.
Finally, Tanya came to a closed door decorated with a series of freshly painted red runes. She stopped there and turned to the two men.
“I must warn you,” she said, “that this isn’t going to be easy for either of you to bear. So brace yourselves for the biggest damned shock of your lives.”
She palmed a switch and the door hissed open. Davyd and Vlad jolted when they saw the ferocious figure lying on a long couch. A large dark stone fixed on his forehead.
Their hands instinctively went to their belts, itching to grab weapons that were no longer there and defend themselves.
Then they relaxed when they noticed the creature was stiff as a board. As if he were dead. Then they saw his red eyes swivel toward them. Other than the movement of those eyes, the creature was completely helpless.
“Let me introduce you to one of the biggest sons of bitches the Universe has ever created,” Tanya said.
“His name is Infeligo. And he’s your real boss! Or, should I say, your ex-boss, if you either of you have a particle of reason in your brains.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
The Centaur was an old ship, a weary ship, but as Scratch pushed it through Uttermost Space his thoughts were full of youthful joy.
He was doing good work— Engine Devil’s work— once again. And with tremendous overlight speed he was pushing the ancient starship deeper into the Void.
Beside him, contained in a protective bubble, Billy Ivanov chortled in boyish glee as he helped Scratch cut through the very flesh of The Continuum.
Commanding hundreds of thousands of spirits, contained in huge armored tubes, to throw back thick spurs of overheated plasma.
Along with his demon friend the child gloried in the shimmering of the uncounted stars that flowed past. Stars with fiercely burning crowns that filled the eyes and soul with their beauty.
He was learning what it was like to love the storms of hard x-rays swirling around the enormous Black Holes that press through the very fabric of space. And all the planets, the many-colored planets: blue, purple, yellow, red or green.
Billy experienced the musical voices of remote Engine Devil friends floating in upon the wings of FastSpells. And the many, many other wondrous things that make up the very core of an Engine Devil’s life.
“Oh, this is wonderful, Scratchy,” he said. “This is supreme. This is … Well, I can’t think of all things it is, but it sure beats being a stupid softskin ship’s captain. Who doesn’t do anything at all, except maybe eat dinner with the big shot passengers.”
“But thou art a softskin thyself, Little Friend of the World,” Scratch replied. He was troubled by the boy’s remarks. “It is not good to so malign thine own people.”
“I don’t want to be a softskin, Scratchy,” the child responded, his young brow wrinkling in displeasure. “I want to be a fiend, just like you. Fiendish people are true and honest and they never betray their friends. Softskin people are liars and only care about themselves.”
For emphasis, he thumped the ship’s co-pilot controls Scratch had built in
to his protective bubble.
“Human beings suck,” he declared. “Suck, suck, suck! And I don’t want to have anything to do with them. I want to be an Engine Devil, just like you!”
Although old Scratch was complimented by the child’s remarks, he was also worried. And torn in his thinking. Other than this softskin boy, he loathed human beings. They’d never done anything but try to enslave him.
Only his Engine Devil’s pride and will had resisted this enslavement. Like all his much-valued kind, he had managed to maintain his independence. Using his curses, his force of fierce Engine Devil personality, to stave off his softskin masters.
Still, it was not good that this softskin boy should hate his own kind as deeply as Scratchy despised them.
“All softskins are not the same, Little Friend of the World,” he ventured. “Some have goodness in their souls. Some are to be admired.
“Consider, son of my old age, the softskins that we carry in this very ship. The woman, Tanya Lawson, whose name is quite familiar to thee.
“Thou calleth her friend, but I see the light in thy young eyes and I, Scratchy, know quite well that thy young mating organs are budding when I see that look.
“Then there are the men— the warriors for whom thou hast expressed much admiration for their skills. Although I despise softskins, other than thyself, Little Friend of the World, these men have also captured my loyalty and admiration. Their names are writ large in my personal scrolls: Davyd Kells and Vlad Projogin.
“Are these three not worthy softskins? Are they not creatures of grander purpose than the norm? Surely, thou must grant them the noble qualities I suggest.
“They fight for all of us. Softskin and fiend. They fight against Time, itself. Three mortals against time! What greater purpose could one ask of anyone?”
Billy considered, then nodded. “Okay, Scratchy,” he said. “I guess you’re sort of right. Except, it’s more than three, isn’t it? Aren’t we in this fight too?”
Scratch exposed his fangs in an enormous grin of pleasure. Only a softskin like Billy, who loved the Engine Devil more than life itself, would not have been horrified by his ghastly grimace of affection.
But then his grimace vanished and his horned brow wrinkled in concern.
