by Mel Odom
Simon slapped the lightstick against his thigh. A pale yellow glow stretched across the passageway.
“Knights,” one of the women whispered.
“I thought they were just legends,” one of the men said.
“I saw one once before,” the other man said. “But only one. Not a group like this.”
The second woman, a young one barely out of her teens from the look of her, shook her head and stepped back. “The light isn’t good. It’ll draw the demons.”
“What demons?” Nathan asked. “We killed the demons.” He indicated the bodies of the monsters lying around them.
“There are more,” the other woman said. “A lot more. They’ve been holding us down here for days.”
“Why?” Simon asked.
“Because they could,” one of the men answered.
Then there was no more time for questions. More demons ran toward them and set up an offensive line.
“Simon?” Nathan asked.
“Repairs query,” Simon said.
“Repairs at seventeen percent,” the suit AI replied. “Estimated time of repair: six-point-three-two seconds.”
“Take them,” Simon ordered. “We’ll try to buy the fugitives time to get clear.”
Nathan’s head swiveled toward the four people. “Run!” he ordered. “The stairway’s ahead of you! Don’t stop till you’re clear of the building!”
Simon drew his Spike Bolter and charged the demon line as the Darkspawn opened fire. His reflexes felt awkward as he struggled to adjust to Danielle’s point of view. The farther he got from her, the worse the perspective became. His feet thudded heavily against the stone floor.
A few energy bursts struck his armor and left scorch marks. Most of the others scored the walls and ceiling as the Darkspawn tried to hold the line.
Simon threw himself at them the last few feet. He flailed his arms out and took down three of the Darkspawn. Up close, he didn’t depend on visual acuity. Close-in martial arts honed to perfection over years of training in the Templar Underground took over.
He forced himself to one knee and shoved the Spike Bolter into the face of one of the Darkspawn. When he pulled the trigger, the demon’s face fell to bloody pieces. The skull fractured and fell inside itself.
He lunged to the left and swung his sword in a backhand arc that chopped into another Darkspawn’s head. When he shifted to bring his other foot under him and stand, he brought his left knee to his chest and kicked straight out at the Darkspawn whose skull he’d cleaved.
The corpse shot backward and rebounded from another demon. Both bodies slammed against the wall. Nathan, Danielle, and the other Templar waded into the attack. The Demonspawn fell back but there were others behind them. In minutes the hallway was slick with blood.
“Trouble,” Nathan growled. “Look ahead.”
Simon did. He was almost twenty feet from Danielle, and the sensory deviation made it hard to focus easily. The subsystem had been designed primarily to allow a stricken Templar to fight in tandem with another Templar, or to allow them to help rescue themselves if they were able. They weren’t supposed to fight apart.
Danielle approached Simon and the vision cleared to a degree.
A huge demon nearly filled the hallway. “I am Hargastor!” the demon roared. “Know me and fear me!” It drew back a hand and threw it forward. A flaming ball streaked like a comet toward the Templar.
* * * *
Warren focused his power and released it in a shimmering wall. The force struck the three Darkspawn and knocked them backward. The effort nearly wiped Warren out. He felt a warm trickle down his upper lip. He knew from experience that if he wiped the liquid from his face, his hand would carry crimson stains.
“You’re falling apart,” Naomi said. Her voice sounded like a whisper inside his skull. “Come to me.”
Warren wanted to. He wanted to leave this place more than anything.
“If you do, Merihim will destroy you,” the voice said.
Warren blinked and focused his vision. Behind Hargastor the Templar weapons erupted into a new barrage of fire. The demon glanced back.
For a moment Warren thought Hargastor was going to abandon the fight and investigate the sounds. Warren readied himself to take advantage of the demon’s exposed back. He was reaching for the dregs of his energy when Hargastor whirled back around and flung a hand out.
“Die, human!”
An incredible force like nothing Warren had ever felt before knocked him from his feet. He felt the bones in his chest shatter and crumple inward. When he struck the wall behind him, the breath left his lungs in a rush and his senses fled.
Thirty-One
“Boot anchors,” Simon said. He felt the impacts of the boot anchors shooting into the stone floor. They bit deeply as he twisted his right side toward the whirling gout of flame.
“Warning,” the suit’s AI stated. “Combustible fluid approaching exceeds acceptable temperatures. Take—”
Whatever the AI might have said was lost in the thunderous roar that enveloped Simon’s mind. The audio receptors shut down to preserve his hearing, but he lost the auditory connection with the AI at the same time. The intense heat nearly broiled him, and he wondered if he’d been parboiled inside his armor anyway.
Pain returned first, then the instinct to live. The HUD showed that the demon was advancing at a run. Simon lifted his Spike Bolter and aimed at the demon’s horrible face. He squeezed the trigger and refused to give ground. Danielle, Leah, and the other Templar hadn’t yet recovered.
The demon—Hargastor, Simon remembered—lifted its empty hand to ward off the palladium spikes. It never broke stride. Hoping to take the creature off-balance, Simon flung himself forward and met the demon, going chest-to-chest. At the last moment, Simon activated the boot spikes again and butted into the demon.
Hargastor hit Simon so hard that he broke the stone floor that was anchored to the Templar’s boots. Simon felt the extra weight at the ends of his legs. He withdrew the spikes and the stone chunks dropped away.
Senses reeling, vision through the HUD not reading true, Simon discovered he’d lost the Spike Bolter. He still held his sword, but using it was problematic. Instead, he looped one leg inside the demon’s leg and tripped the massive creature. They collapsed to the floor and rolled over Danielle, who had been blown from her feet.
The demon rolled and tried to come up on top of Simon. Gripping his sword tightly, Simon slammed the haft into the inside of the demon’s support elbow. The joint gave way to the blow and folded. As Hargastor fell, Simon butted him in the chin with the top of his helm, then caught the buckling arm with his free hand and pulled.
Hargastor fell to the side and Simon pummeled the demon in the face with the sword hilt. He was too close to employ the blade.
The demon roared in rage, but Simon heard pain in there as well. His attack had hurt the demon, but he knew it would have killed most lesser demons.
“Offensive flea,” Hargastor snarled. He closed his own fist and hammered Simon.
Stunned by the blow, Simon shot backward and collided with Danielle. Both of them went down. Simon immediately tried to get up, but the demon was faster.
Hargastor backhanded Simon while he was still on his knees. Simon flipped over backwards and felt the breath leave his lungs. His borrowed vision reeled sickeningly. The demon came for him immediately.
“You’re going to die, Templar. You should have stayed away from here. You should have stayed away from the book.”
Desperation filled Simon when he realized there was only one book the demon could be referring to. It was one thing to fight for his life, but if he lived and the demon got the manuscript, he’d lost everything. Before he could move, Hargastor picked him up in both hands and slammed him into the wall. Stone smashed and cracks ran for several feet in all directions.
The demon’s head suddenly rocked sideways as an explosive round from a Cluster Rifle struck home. One of the horns snapped of
f and went flying. Bloody ichors ran from the horn stump and stained the side of the demon’s neck.
Howling with rage, Hargastor turned to face his newest opponent.
While standing less than thirty feet away, Leah calmly took aim again and fired. This time the round sped harmlessly by until it hit the passageway wall. Hargastor launched himself in pursuit of Leah.
Nathan tried to push through a mass of Darkspawn but couldn’t reach Hargastor in time. Danielle was still trying to recover, and the remaining Templar was down, dead or unconscious.
Simon pulled himself out of the deep impression made by his impact against the wall. Small rocks and dust spilled out around him as he got to his feet. He took four quick strides and threw himself headlong at Hargastor as the demon drew back a hand that suddenly filled with swirling fire and black smoke.
When he reached the demon, Simon curled his arm around Hargastor’s ankles and pulled tightly. The demon tried to complete his attack against Leah even as he fell. Rifle to her shoulder, she tracked her opponent as the demon rebounded from the floor, then fired.
The missile struck Hargastor in the chest. Acid burned deeply into his skin. Some of it splashed over Simon’s armor and set off alarms inside the HUD.
“Warning. Armor shielding is at sixty-one percent capacity.”
Simon ignored the announcement. He was in the thick of it now and knew that he had no choice about giving up. If he released the demon, Hargastor would undoubtedly try to get to Leah because she was the least protected among them. Demons could sense things like that.
Hargastor’s eyes blazed as he turned on Simon. “You’re annoying me, pest. Can’t you just die?”
“You first,” Simon replied. He slammed his fist against the demon’s burned and acid-eaten face. Even as he watched, though, Hargastor’s wounds were healing. Simon struck again and again, willing the bone to break and the flesh to split.
Abruptly, the demon surged to its feet, though it remained hunkered over because of the low ceiling. The thing’s strength was incredible. Simon knew that if they were out in the open, the fight might already be over.
Nathan attacked with his Spike Bolter and sword from the other side. Palladium spikes struck home from point-blank range and the sword slashed the demon’s hide.
The demon picked Simon up by one foot and swung him into Nathan like a club. Both of them went down. Simon clung to consciousness by his fingernails. He felt the warmth of chemicals—stimulants as well as pain relievers—flood his system before he could call the suit’s AI off. The medical subprograms were struggling to keep up with everything being done to his body as well.
Even as the demon released Simon, Leah fired once more. Another bone-shaking explosion filled the passageway. Dust fell from the ceiling, followed quickly by a shower of rocks blown free by the impact.
Hargastor rocked back on his heels for a moment. Then he stood. And he smiled while his head and features burned. Blackened flesh pulled back from his fangs and streamers of blood mixed with them.
“Weaklings!” the demon roared. “I am invincible!”
Shaking, nerves jangling from the pain and from the chemicals stampeding through his bloodstream, Simon forced himself to his feet again. He fought to suck in a breath and couldn’t.
“Airway partially blocked and closing down,” the suit AI said. “Administering epinephrine.”
The adrenaline-enhancing injection flooded Simon’s body. Some of the pain went away. His heart pounded rapidly and caused his temples to throb. But his throat opened up.
“Cardio-pulmonary operation within acceptable tolerances,” the AI informed him. “Video sensor arrays are still being repaired.”
Simon took a deep breath and stepped between Hargastor and Leah. He was certain his armor still provided a better chance of survival than hers. He fisted his sword and readied himself.
* * * *
Warren woke with Naomi’s voice in his head. She called to him over and over.
“I’m here,” he said automatically. He struggled to remember where here was. His body felt like it was coming apart as he stood.
Get moving, Merihim ordered. Hargastor can’t be allowed to get away.
Farther down the passageway, Warren heard the sounds of the Templar weapons. He didn’t know which he couldn’t believe more: that the Templar weren’t dead already or that he wasn’t.
I’m just going to get killed, Warren thought to himself. But he knew if he didn’t go Merihim would kill him. He went, almost stumbling over himself.
Only a few feet ahead, he watched as Hargastor slammed one of the Templar against another and turned to the slim, black-clad female in front of him. Another Templar was just getting to her feet. A fourth lay unmoving on the floor. Darkspawn sprawled in death all around them.
Kill him, Merihim ordered. While his back is to you and he is at his weakest, kill him.
Warren felt that he was only going to draw the demon’s wrath to him once more. But he summoned the energy to him as he took up a position less than twenty feet behind Hargastor.
“Let me take you out of there,” Naomi called to him. “You’re dying. I can feel it.”
Warren felt her pulling at him, but he forced her away.
“Take heart,” the voice told Warren. “Your master can’t completely forsake you.”
Warren didn’t know that he believed that. He’d felt certain over the last four years that Merihim would leave him whenever he felt like it.
Or whenever Warren got too close to whatever secret desires the demon followed.
“Merihim has his secrets,” the voice said. “All of them do. And when you discover what it is, you make them weak.”
It doesn’t matter if I don’t live long enough to save myself, Warren thought bitterly.
Hargastor’s attention was on the black-clad female. The Templar behind him scarcely noticed Warren because she was so intent on the demon’s back.
Then one of the fallen Templar pushed himself up and stood between Hargastor and his chosen prey. Recognition flared through Warren as he surveyed the dark blue and silver figure before him.
It was the Templar that he had met four years ago. The same one that had taken his hand and allowed Merihim to possess him. The armor’s coloration—unique as far as Warren knew—wasn’t the only thing that gave away the man inside. He also felt the man inside.
Warren’s focus shifted as his rage and pain outweighed his fear. The Templar had been the one who had left him cursed that night. If he hadn’t taken his hand, Merihim would never have given him one of his to wear in his service. He might still have been a free man and able to leave London when so many others had.
Good, Merihim said. Use the anger you feel. It will make you stronger. Bend it to your need. But destroy Hargastor.
Warren wanted to wait before striking until Hargastor had killed the Templar. He could see it all in his mind’s eye. It would have been revenge of sorts, and almost by his own hand since he hadn’t prevented Hargastor from lolling him.
Except that if Warren wasn’t strong enough to destroy the demon, there would be no one to save him. He’d seen enough of the Templar to know that the ones in the passageway wouldn’t have been able to simply leave him there once he attacked.
Do it, Merihim growled.
Power flooded into Warren. Pain fled. In the space of a single breath, he was once more clear-headed. He channeled all the power he had—his and what he took from Merihim—and unleashed it through his demon’s hand.
A shimmering shower of falling stars flew from Warren’s hand and crashed against Hargastor. The demon staggered as purple pustules suddenly sprouted all over his back. Something writhed inside them, growing larger and more active as Warren watched.
Hargastor howled in pain and fear, something that Warren had never thought he would hear. He turned around and faced Warren.
“What have you done?” Hargastor demanded. “What have you done?”
Not knowing what to e
xpect, Warren stepped back. He’d used every bit of the power Merihim had given him. And he’d used up his reserves as well. There was nothing left. He could barely stand on his feet.
“Who are you?” Hargastor asked.
Warren wasn’t going to say anything, but his mouth opened and he said, “I’m your death, dung fly. Your true and final death today. Let your master hear your mortal cries of anguish.”
Hargastor screamed in pain and thrust his hands out.
Warren dodged weakly back and covered his head with his arms but nothing happened. His breath caught at the back of his throat when he realized that he could hardly move.
“Warren,” Naomi called.
“Wait,” the voice said.
Merihim hovered nearby. Warren felt the demon watching through his eyes.
Frustrated and screaming for vengeance, Hargastor started forward. He managed two steps before the pustules began bursting and unleashed small salamander-looking creatures that immediately attacked their host.
The strength went out of the demon and he dropped to his knees. His face screwed up in disbelief and agony. “No! This can’t be happening! Fulaghar!” He held his hands up to the ceiling in supplication as more pustules burst and more salamander-things chewed on him. “Fulaghar! Save me!”
No one came, though.
As Warren watched, all semblance of life drained from Hargastor’s face. His beseeching arms dropped to his sides and his eyes rolled back up into his head. He fell forward and hit the ground without trying to stop himself.
The salamander-things started feasting in earnest.
You can go, Merihim said. Find the remaining two. Then we will destroy Fulaghar.
“We?” Warren thought weakly as he started at the demon corpse the salamander-things had been born in and now devoured. Merihim didn’t hear his thought, though, or chose not to react to it. Warren felt the demon draw away from him.
“It’s over,” the voice said. “Go while you’re still able.”
