by J F Cain
Fares fought with superhuman strength. Radiant in his shining armor, fierce and terrible, he charged the enemy with roars that rose above the mayhem. His flaming sword and the fiery energy that shot out of his left hand wiped out vampires, burnt werewolves to ashes, and disintegrated gargoyles. The elite warrior of Light fought with determination, fearlessly, like a demi-god emerging from the pantheon of heroes to perform one more labor.
As the battle in the bailey raged, the grayish figures of gargoyles appeared in the dark sky. Once above the fortress, the rolled into balls and plummeted toward the towers like stone cannonballs. Their mission was to gouge holes through which vampires could enter, bypassing the battle in the bailey. However, Aranes had predicted that move and had placed Guardians in the tower windows who shot ethereal energy at them. So the only thing the gargoyles that managed to come close achieved was to form some cracks.
Another swarm took off from the forest, each one flying toward the fortress with a vampire on its back. Guided by their riders, who were looking for good landing spots, they circled high above the bailey and then swooped down among the fighters, indiscriminately knocking over anyone who hadn’t seen them coming as they landed. Some of the stone creatures got as close as they could to the keep and remained in the air as their riders jumped down among the warriors defending the entrance. The Guardians who were in the last lines of defense and hadn’t been engaged in battle yet opened their hyperdimensional gateways and struck the approaching creatures, shattering them and burning their riders to a cinder.
When the vampires saw the threat, they were forced to abandon their conveyances. They began to jump down among the last lines of Guardians and engaged with them as they tried to enter the keep. The gargoyles that escaped the celestial energy released by the theurgists took off again, flapping their large wings as they returned to the forest to get more riders. But one of them banked suddenly and, flying low above the heads of the Cursed running toward the fortress, it reached the gate and kicked it hard. The two heavy leaves shuddered and rattled. An Exorcist flung a grenade onto the gargoyle, shattering it and burning to ashes all the creatures that had gathered close to the gate as they waited to gain entry. Soon, however, another gargoyle had taken its place. The Exorcist looked around for another grenade, but a vampire that had just reached the top of the wall took advantage of his distraction and plunged its claws into his belly. Kadu, who was fighting a few feet away, pulled the point of his double-headed spear out of a werewolf’s body and materialized in front of the vampire. He spun his spear around skillfully and thrust the pointed head at the other end into the creature’s chest.
“Reinforce the gate!” he shouted loudly to be heard above the din of the battle.
Exorcists close to the gate grabbed some grenades from the small piles inside the battlements and rushed to carry out their leader’s command. The gargoyle that was kicking the gate was shattered, but another took its place. Each time the Exorcists disintegrated a stone creature, another attacked and, swerving to avoid the grenades, would ram into the gate. Under the constant strain, the iron hinges and thick bar on the inside creaked loudly and finally broke. The gate’s two leaves flew open and crashed against the granite walls with a deafening bang. When the Cursed saw that besides the breach in the wall, where the Exorcists were decimating their comrades, there was now also a bigger opening, they headed that way thinking it would be easier to get through. However, the Exorcists’ arrows and bombs rained down on them and only a few managed to enter the bailey.
A swarm of gargoyles flew toward the Ethereals’ line of defense. Two of them suddenly dove down, grabbed Sytry and one of Abriel’s warriors in their curved claws and, before either of them could do anything, they flung them onto the protective shield. While the earthly creatures passed through the energy shield unharmed, the two Ethereals rammed into it and their physical bodies immediately vaporized, leaving behind two dark masses of energy that moved on into the timeless sphere. The remaining Demons spread out to erase the gaps their comrades had left and shore up their defenses, and then carried on fighting, now also keeping an eye out for any attacks from the air.
Two of the gargoyles that had gotten past returned and in a flash swooped down on Asmodeus and Purson. Suspended from the creature’s claws, Purson struck the one stone leg with his sword. The creature cried out and pulled back its cracked leg, but flung the Archdemon onto the shield with the other. Asmodeus sensed the sneak attack in time and, before the creature could grab him, he turned, raising his sword. The ethereal blade dragged along the stone body, making a deep crack that forced the gargoyle to retreat with a pained cry.
“This is starting to get boring,” said Asmodeus, bragging about his strength.
Abaddon heard him but was too busy to pay him any attention. As he leaned back to avoid a werewolf’s claws, he swung his swords wide and struck two vampires passing him on each side. He then immediately somersaulted into the air and, after stabbing the werewolf in the shoulders, he landed behind the creature and plunged his swords into the stomach of a vampire who appeared in front of him. The vampire’s ashes whirled violently as he disintegrated and, as they began to fall to the ground, Garnage emerged from behind them.
The massive elder with the beastly appearance was naked above the waist. The bulging arteries flowing from his heart to his palms were full of black blood and emitted dark demonic energy, like the two big swords in his hands. Lucard had forced all the elders to give Garnage a hefty amount of their ancient, all-powerful blood, so that he would be able to not only match him but also wipe him out. The vampire leader was certain—as he had stressed to the rest of the council members—that after their attack on his partner, the Dark Angel would come after them until he annihilated them all. The danger was real, but Lucard was really furthering his own plans, which would be served no matter the outcome of the fight: If Garnage succeeded in killing Abaddon, he would rid him of a powerful enemy, and if he didn’t, Lucard would be rid of the most powerful and slyest vampire after him. Of course, he would make sure to get rid of all the elders after they all killed the werewolf elders together. He intended to be the only one to enjoy the perks of possessing Aranes and her child. He would then become the ruler of Earth and beyond—his ultimate aim being to gain power in the ethereal world too.
But Garnage had his own plans. He hadn’t believed Lucard’s promises of joint leadership, naturally, and planned to be the only one to hold that position in the new order that he would establish once he obtained Aranes.
Garnage fixed Abaddon with a hard stare and a look that said he would be the victor of their confrontation. The Dark Angel didn’t have the time for the vampire’s bluster; he set upon him, wanting to get rid of him as quickly as possible.
The two swords clashed high with force, immediately followed by the other two. The four blades disengaged, dragging against each other with an eerie hiss as the two duelers sized each other up. Wasting no time, Abaddon darted to the left and thrust his sword toward his adversary’s unprotected left side. But the vampire swiftly dodged it, while also stopping the other sword threatening his leg. Abaddon took a step forward and swung his sword down forcefully, but Garnage parried it again and, attacking with his other sword, tried to take control of the confrontation. The Celestial realized it and went on the offensive, striking him repeatedly to maintain his advantage. However, the vampire’s supernatural strength and speed allowed him to deflect the ethereal swords’ successive strikes.
Garnage tried to fool his opponent. As he raised his two swords as if he was going to strike high, he suddenly lowered the one, trying to hit his side. But the Dark Angel swung his arm down, blocked the vampire’s sword before it touched his ribs and drove the other back forcefully. Abaddon had realized from the first that he had to do with a seasoned warrior. Even so, the vampire’s duplicity annoyed him. And those freakish eyes that gleamed murderously made him want to send the former Demon’s soul to hell even more. The thought that if he failed to p
rotect Aranes, those eyes would be looking at her in the same way, drove him mad.
In his fury to wipe out the abhorrent creature, he attempted a counterstrike. Garnage leaped back but the ethereal blade grazed his belly, opening a superficial wound. He aimed a vindictive look at the Dark Angel while parrying the ethereal sword aiming for his right arm. Abaddon attacked again with lightning moves, keeping the upper hand. Garnage lunged to the side to avoid the ethereal sword that hissed past his ear menacingly, took a few steps back as if retreating under his opponent’s pressure and then suddenly surged forward. Abaddon, who had been paying attention to every single detail of his adversary’s tactics, but without becoming sidetracked, reacted forcefully: he lifted his sword to protect his head and deflected the vampire’s second blade that was aiming for his thigh. He took one step to the side and, finding the right angle for his counterattack, he suddenly leaped in the opposite direction in an attempt to hit his adversary’s neck. Garnage ducked in time, escaping his opponent’s attempt to decapitate him, but didn’t get the chance to strike back. He was forced to stay on the defense to avoid the Dark Angel’s volley of strikes.
In the din of the battle, Lucifer’s hearing picked up a drawn-out moan coming from Aranes.
“Born in battle. A true warrior …” he said in a proud tone of voice. “Like his father,” he added emphatically as he lopped off the head of a vampire who was trying to evade him.
Aranes’ pained cry momentarily distracted Abaddon. In that instant when his attack lost its momentum, the battle-hardened vampire seized the opportunity and, with speed only a supernatural being could possess, he lifted his sword to cut of his arm. The Celestial realized his intention and pulled back, but the tip of the dark blade found his shoulder, wounding him.
“There won’t be time for you to regret it,” Abaddon said menacingly and, paying no attention to the bluish blood flowing from the joint in his armor, he attacked with fury.
“Bring it,” Garnage taunted him.
The fight between the two supernatural entities grew even more ferocious. Abaddon fought with immense fierceness, as if the impending birth of his child had unlocked power he had been holding in reserve. Garnage was now struggling to parry his hits. When the Celestial aimed low in one attack, he was forced to use both his swords to deflect the blow. Abaddon took advantage of the opening he gave him and swung his sword up and twisted his arm in a lightning move that slashed him horizontally across his chest, slicing both arteries that had been feeding his power. Garnage stumbled back in astonishment and stared disbelievingly at the black-hued blood gushing out of his chest. He dropped the one sword and pressed his palm against his breast, trying to stem the loss of the precious substance, but to no avail. As soon as he realized he had reached the end of his long existence, he lifted his gaze to his killer, his face distorted with fury and, no longer able to even stand, he fell to his knees and sank down to the blood-soaked ground.
“I brought it, you freak,” Abaddon replied with some delay, his disgusted gaze on the disintegrating dead body.
As the vampire’s ashes swirled in the air, he glanced fleetingly at Lucifer. His words a short while ago when he had heard Aranes groan gave him a very bad feeling. There had been a trace of something in his voice that he didn’t like at all, just as he didn’t like the smile he had failed to hide. He wondered if the Demon had been mocking him. But now wasn’t the time for analyses. The battle was raging as his son was being born, and he had to do everything in his power to stop the bloodthirsty monsters from harming his family. As he took position again, he noted that the number of creatures reaching the Ethereals’ line of defense had significantly lessened. The clearing was practically empty, as if the enemy had been ordered to stop attacking.
And then he saw the third wave emerge from the forest—three thousand hard-bitten Cursed with centuries of experience in fierce battles. Determined to tip the balance of the conflict in their favor so that they could enjoy the perks their elders had promised them, they streamed into the clearing. No battle cry was heard, no sound but the thud of footsteps on the ground. The enemy had taken the form of a fast approaching, dark and menacing mob.
Abaddon raised his swords and dispatched the first to reach him. He could tell from the way they moved that they were the enemy’s best warriors. Also, this time, it would be a coordinated attack in which they all charged at once. Even the Ethereals would find it hard to cope. How would the Guardians manage?
It wasn’t long before Abaddon’s fears proved true. A group of vampires surrounded one of Abriel’s fighters. He cut the first vampire that attacked him in half, but while he was facing the second one, two more rushed him from behind and plunged their long claws into his back. At the same moment, the rest of the team swooped down on him, tossed him onto the ground, and started to hack him to pieces with their claws and fangs until the Ethereal’s physical body turned into dark energy.
A few feet away, Beleth was fighting with skill that justified her reputation as a great warrior. The king cobra that was usually nestled on her left shoulder had unwound itself and with lightning-fast movements covered the Archdemon’s left side by sinking its fangs into anyone who came close. The snake’s tail was a whip in her other hand that burned whichever being it touched. Even so, despite all the protection her special weapons provided her, Beleth now seemed to be struggling to keep the battle-hardened Cursed at bay. As was Gremory, who was shooting her ethereal arrows two by two and was spinning around to ward off any attacks from behind.
Next to Beleth, the Archdemon Adras skillfully swung his hammer and clobbered a werewolf’s head so hard that it burst. As the writhing creature fell to the ground, another werewolf pounced on him, toppling him backward. Before the Ethereal’s back had even touched the ground, the creature opened its huge jaws, bit into his neck and ripped off his head. Lucifer was filled with fury at his faithful subject’s annihilation and paid the werewolf back in the same coin. At that very instant, his ethereal senses picked up the approach of a big group of vampires who launched a coordinated attack against him. Lucifer lifted his free hand in time and unleashed a wave of dark energy that turned them instantly to dust.
Another group of Cursed had surrounded Asmodeus. However, before they could attack him, the Archdemon conjured his large wings and snapped them open. The shock wave caused by the accumulated energy struck the beings closest to him and flung them onto their comrades. Peeved by the Cursed’s gall, Asmodeus began to fly low over them, wiping out anyone who crossed his path.
Monitoring the battle’s progression, Abaddon realized that, unlike in the previous waves where the Cursed had tried to get past the Ethereals’ line of defense, some of the creatures taking part in the third wave had been instructed to destroy as many Ethereals as they could. That way they could weaken the first line of defense and be able to send through as many of their comrades as possible, while also getting rid of their elders’ old enemies. With anxiety etched on his face, he looked at the remaining Demons. Even though they continued to fight with all their strength, they were now trying to protect themselves, and as a result many Cursed were managing to get through their defense. And a large number of them had evaded the Exorcists’ arrows and grenades and had already reached the fortress walls.
Still fighting without pause, Abaddon looked inside the bailey. He saw the Guardians bloodied and gasping for breath among the moaning wounded who lay dying, the corpses, and stones of shattered gargoyles. Exhausted after two hours of fighting in a furious, unequal battle, they were leaning against the stones or on their swords to catch their breath. Fares was standing in front of everyone, with the sword in his hand dripping blood, and in the light of the torches he saw the fresh new army of Cursed advancing toward the fortress.
“Rally!” he commanded loudly.
At first the Guardians froze when they saw the size of the enemy force approaching, but they soon recovered. They forgot the exhaustion weighing their bodies down and quickly lined up. As they
approached the fortress, the Cursed split into two groups, one heading toward the smashed gate and the other towards the large breach in the front wall, like black streams spewing out of hell.
Up on the left wall, Kadu watched the invaders’ movements.
“Divide your firepower!” he commanded.
Half of the remaining Exorcists turned their backs on the creatures climbing the walls and began to shoot their arrows at those entering the bailey.
“Hold your ground!” Fares shouted, raising his bloodied sword.
The Guardians took position, gripping their swords tenaciously. Each and every one of them was secretly awaiting their own moment of sacrifice. But until that moment arrived, they would fight with everything they had.
The Cursed pounced on them with fury in an onslaught of biblical proportions. They wanted to sweep over the Superior’s defenders and claim the ultimate trophy. Unlike the werewolves, who avoided clashing with the Guardians, the vampires attacked them mercilessly. The stout resistance of the fortress’s defenders had made them see red. They couldn’t stand the mortals’ pride, their devotion to their ideals, and wanted to cow them, to wipe this force off the face of the Earth.
But the brave warriors of Light defied them heroically. Out of breath, exhausted, and yet uncowed, they fought the final battle of their lives with determination, bound by their vows. Their anxiety unleashed the strength hidden inside them, as if the souls of all the Guardians who had sacrificed themselves for the same purpose had awoken and were lending them their otherworldly strength.
The night was filled with the cries of battle and the wounded. Harsh curses mingled with muffled screams as humans and supernatural beings fell to the ground and breathed their last and others trampled over them to get past. The Guardians fought to hold their lines, but every now and then a creature would leap over them or slip past between the duelers.
