A Cerumal reached the top beside Walter, clambering over the edge, a wide dagger held in its mouth. Walter smashed his boot into the blade, slicing through its cheeks and hammering the blade between its jaw. It snarled, eyes rolling back in its head, reaching a limp arm towards Walter as it fell onto the embankment, spitted on a discarded spear. The dagger fell out of its mouth, filled with blood.
Another hand slapped down on top of the parapet, talons like daggers scraping on the stone. Walter watched through slitted eyes as the other arm came after, the arm bending like it had four joints, tufts of white hair speckled up and down. Next came the oversized helm of the Black Wynch, a hulking block of iron on its head. Its mouth spread apart at seeing him, unleashing its ear-splitting shriek. Walter roared back, Stormcaller burning bright, splitting its head down through its jaw.
He saw two armsmen plunge gleaming spears through a Skin Flayer. Saw Juzo bash a Cerumal in the back of the head with his pommel. Nyset sent a burning disc through a beast’s neck, its blood flowing in dark streaks. Baylan knocked a Cerumal under the helmet with a Phoenix shield just as it reach the top of the wall, falling and grasping at the empty air.
Strings zinged in his ears and crossbow bolts thunked into hissing Death Spawn crawling up another raised ladder. Rocks tumbled down the wall, crushing bones and denting skulls. More ladders were raised and Death Spawn were left squealing, their bleeding limbs grasping at rungs.
A flat faced Cerumal reached the top of a ladder and something felt off. Wrong. Walter pushed a fireball from his fingertips, but none came. He tried again. Still nothing. The beast slashed at Walter’s outstretched fingers, but he stumbled back, just in time before losing them. An odd crystal hung from the monster’s neck, twinkling in the light. Jewelry? It was an Equalizer crystal, he realized, and his skin prickled.
The Cerumal slipped over the wall, its black spittle hanging from its lips. It lunged at him with its twisted blade. Walter slipped to the side, encircling its arm with his and slid his arm back, pressing its wrist into his chest to control the blade. It punched him in the jaw, its hand wrapped in metal, and pain exploded in his head.
Walter’s hand clamped around its wide head, pressing his thumb into its eye. It shrieked, its head writhing, and blood bubbling from the socket, its eye madly blinking. It snapped its mouth out like a turtle, razors for teeth sinking into his forearm. He cried out, falling over with a crushing weight.
It was on top of him and something jabbed into his leg. Its mouth was an inch from his face, teeth snapping, spittle dribbling on his lips, its breath reeking like a fresh shit. One of his arms was pinned under the beast’s weight, elbow up and creating enough distance such that his face wasn’t its appetizer. Walter’s hand reached at his leg, feeling an arrow shaft stuck in the Cerumal. He ripped it free, both of them screaming, jabbing the arrow in and out the side of its neck. Blood spurted out of the punctures and onto his face, into his eyes and down his shirt. Walter kept stabbing and stabbing, grunting with each blow. The Cerumal grew quiet and Walter groaned, weak as a lamb against its incredible weight. The weight felt lighter, something pulling the body off him. He blinked, wiping at the blood burning in his eyes, stinking like iron in his nose.
“You okay?” Juzo asked, his hand out stretched. Walter took it, hauled to his feet by his astonishing strength. “What happened?”
“Almost buried by a Cerumal.” Walter caught himself, his foot kicking out in a pool of blood.
He ran his fingers from his forehead down to his chin, sloughing off a sheet of blood, red streaks left behind. Juzo turned, hacking into the shoulder of a Black Wynch almost at the top of the wall. Walter snatched the chain around the dead Cerumal’s neck, crushing the crystal to bits under his boot, power coursing through his body like a shattered dam.
“Nyset! They have Equalizers!” Walter yelled. He ducked under the slash of a Black Wynch, bashing into it with his shoulder then throwing it over his back and dumping it over the wall, hissing as it fell.
He glanced back at Nyset and her mouth was already slackening. She was shaking her head, her hands pressing out. A Skin Flayer leapt over the wall and faced her, unsheathing its blade in slow motion. As it pulled the blade back to chop into her, Walter leapt and caught its wrist in the crook of his arm. His other hand jerked the chain around the Flayer’s neck taught, twisting it in his fist, ever tightening it around its throat. The Flayer dropped its sword and reached for its neck as Nyset slid her short sword between its ribs. Its hands relaxed, air sucking from the hole in its chest, now hanging from the chain in Walter’s trembling hands. He let out a primal scream at the quivering creature, forearms aching from its weight.
“Equalizers, crush them,” he said, snapping the chain from its neck and dropping it to the ground. She smashed it with the pommel of her sword, black splinters fanning out across the stones. He squatted down, tearing a swathe of fabric from a dead wizard’s robe and wiped the rest of the crusting blood from his eyelids.
A woman squealed beyond them as a Black Wynch jammed its claws into her gut. Surprise was etched on her dying face as it raked lines through her neck.
Walter saw an Equalizer crystal dangled from its neck when it turned and stabbed its talons through an older apprentice’s chest. More were crawling over the walls, the god’s powers fading in and out of touch like a flickering candle in the darkness.
“Didn’t you tell Bezda about the Equalizers?” Nyset screamed in his ear. Like a bucket of water in the face, he remembered now. He remembered the white light hovering over his head, like the one he had seen over King Ezra’s. The bitch had used a Mind Eater on him. He gritted his teeth as another wizard was butchered, his arm dismembered.
Baylan levitated a massive chunk of broken wall over his head, leaned over the edge, and dropped it with a roar. It smashed into a Black Wynch’s head climbing up a ladder, dashing its helmet apart and brains plastered on the bridge. The rock split the ladder in half, logs rolling apart and stirring up the swarm below.
Some were bypassing ladders entirely, claws gouging into stone, hauling themselves higher and higher. Some were torn off by rocks, others by arrows and Dragon fire. They had discovered a section of wall thick with ivy, and a whole lot of them slithered up on that side. Death Spawn squawked and whooped as they pulled themselves over the wall, some poked off with halberds, others hacked with swords.
“Walter? Walter!” Nyset yelled.
He came back to the moment, now seeing the scorched Death Spawn staggering over to him. He hit it with a blast of air, toppling over the wall. “I did! But—”
“Didn’t you tell me what?” Bezda cut in, bumping into him before pushing off the wall and plunging her white sword through the neck of a bony Cerumal. It gurgled blood through the slit in its neck. She heaved a breath, blood spattered in her white hair and on her cheeks like freckles.
Walter shook his head, keeping his voice low. “I don’t think your assistant Tamia is who she says she is. She used a Mind Eater on us. See the crystals around their necks?”
“Yes! That’s what stopping us from touching the powers?” She frowned, gazing at him intently.
“It is. They’re called Equalizers. I came to you a few days ago, told you about this, but she stopped it.”
“How can you be sure? How can I trust you?”
“You can’t. She likely has something to do with this,” he waved towards the carnage hanging on the walls, streaked with blood, body parts, and crawling shapes.
He blew out his cheeks, punching and releasing a fireball, blowing a Skin Flayer’s head apart as it crested the wall. “Let’s go see her, ask her about it. I’ll wait, see if I can stop it. If it is her, there’s already a powerful enemy behind the Milvorian gates, and we need to root it out.”
“I see your point. You can cut spells? Grozul has already taught you this?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a slow spell. I can do something to distract her, bring you back.”
“You better b
e right, let’s go!” She scraped along the back of the wall, chopping through the knee of a Cerumal and finishing it with a stab through the chest. Walter followed behind, stopping between Nyset and Baylan.
“We’re paying a visit to Tamia, hold the wall.” They nodded at him in understanding.
“We’ll do our best,” Nyset breathed.
“Typical, running off when there’s real work to do,” Juzo said and grinned at him, his great sword hewing a skeleton in half from shoulder to hip, bones crumbling down a ladder.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Walter forced a smile out, unable to find pleasure with each additional moment like Juzo seemed too. Maybe he’d learn to just be happy someday.
He could hear Grimbald screaming up at the defenders. “Get them off the gates! Away from the gates!”
Men and women yelled curses as they ran past. A wizard leaned over the wall and fell back on top of Walter, coughing up blood. He had two arrows in his chest, deep and poking out the back of his cloak. He looked up at Walter, blinked, then opened his mouth to say something as his eyes stared up at the empty blue. An arm reached over the wall holding a crossbow and Walter chopped through it with a sword of fire, melting through stone, the warm blood spattering on his lips. The Cerumal screeched, stump burning, and rolled down the ladder, knocking its brethren off the rungs with it.
Bezda jogged down the stairs at the back of the parapet and Walter moved to join her. A dark form jumped in front of him, the god’s powers winking out, and a claw hissing at his face. He caught it at the wrist, talons squealing against Stormcaller on his forearm. He drove his boot into its knee and cracking it to the side, crumpling to the ground. It tried to get up and he jumped high into the air, both heels smashing down onto its protruding spine, poking out from under sinewy skin.
“Stay! Down!” he roared, jumping again and again. “Die! Die!” It squirmed and struggled, blood ejecting from its lips with each stomp. Walter tore the Equalizer off its neck, smashing it on the wall against Stormcaller. He hauled it up to its lifeless legs and ignited it with Dragon fire before throwing its flaming corpse onto the crawling scum below. Portals were opening and closing there, cutting them down in droves but their numbers were endless.
“We’re doomed, we’re doomed,” a young boy muttered. His head was shaved and dirty tears streaked his cheeks.
“Did anyone tell you to stop fucking fighting!” Walter roared into his face, spit flying.
“No!” the lad stammered, blinking as if waking from a dream, perhaps a nightmare. He lunged back over the wall, tossing fire and screaming with hoarse lungs. Perhaps a bit harsh, but this wasn’t the time for niceties.
Walter caught up with Bezda, eying the bulging gates and speaking with Grimbald. There was a small pile of Death Spawn stacked up in a corner, sets of beady dark eyes staring at him.
“It’s the giant slayer!” One of Falcon soldiers called out.
“Uh—” Walter sighed.
“Yeah, it’s him,” another agreed. “Good to have you here,” the man said, clapping a big hand on his shoulder.
“Form up,” Grimbald ordered. “These gates may not hold forever, we have to be prepared if that happens. I know there isn’t a lot of action down here, but be ready.”
“No action is fine with me,” a man with a pointed beard muttered, staring up at the war raging above. A dark armored body tumbled over the wall, limbs flopping like a child’s discarded toy. Falcon soldiers ran to it, jabbing it with spears and ensuring no surprises.
Bezda started moving. “No time to waste.”
“We’ll be back, hold the gates, Grim.”
“Nothing passes this street!” he roared. The men roared back, spears gripped tight, shields banging against weapons.
They ran through the market square, leaving the wails of the dying and screams of the victorious behind. Bezda’s vanilla fragrance mixed with her pungent sweat, crinkling his nose at the odd mixture. They passed the broken spires of the Dragon and the Phoenix on either side, looking ready to crumble with their yawning holes and eyeless windows. They crawled up a pile of jagged stone chunks before an archway, sliding through the fragments and dust on the other side.
Walter coughed as they passed under the archway into cool and damp air, further drowning out the din of battle. A boom shook from above, coursing down the walls and to their boots. Dust shook from the mortar and hissed down the back of his breastplate. They shared worried glances, hurrying through the tunnel. The other side led through the bountiful gardens, mostly untouched by the chaos minutes away, a facade of peace.
“Where is she?” Walter asked.
“Planning our defense if the gates fall, in the dining hall.”
“You don’t have some sort of war room?”
“Remind me, when was the last time someone was foolish enough to attack the Tower?”
“History was never my strong suit,” Walter said, leaping over a pile of rubble.
The fountain lazily bubbled in the center, inviting one to lay on the marble with a book and a cup of elixir, if not for the hordes of demons at the front door. The garden was normally patrolled by armsmen keeping apprentice’s fingers from picking the flowers. Now it was an empty hollow, their footsteps echoing as they strode between the high walls.
Bezda sheathed her sword as they wound up the stairs in the veteran’s spire. The veteran’s dining hall was the biggest dining room he’d ever seen. Walter thought there wouldn’t be much to top the one in the Midgaard palace, but this did. It was about three times bigger than the one in Midgaard and the ceiling at least twice as tall. The walls were a sky blue marble with veins of red and purple running through it. Dragon and Phoenix carvings were inlaid in the stone tiles, so realistic looking Walter thought they might be able to fly from the stone.
Tamia flashed a scowl at them, quickly reverting to a pleased smile. “Ah! Arch Wizard, how does the defense of the Tower proceed? I see you’ve brought a guest with you.” She pushed away a marked up map and a goblet of wine. She then gave a quick bow, striding across from the middle of the massive table. “You look well, glad to see you’ve been staying out of harm’s way, other than a few cuts,” Tamia said looking Bezda up and down.
A warm breeze flitted through open windows, ruffling half-drawn curtains, reddish-orange like Dragon fire. The candelabras running through the center of the table swayed.
“No more frivolities, Tamia. Walter told me he brought one of these to us, to warn us. Is it true?” she said through gritted teeth, letting a chain with a shattered Equalizer dangle from between her clenched fist.
“Ah, yes. It’s true. You always were a stupid cunt. I’m surprised you remembered, honestly.” She shrugged, her midnight dress slipping off a pale shoulder, exposing most of a breast.
“What?” The blood in Bezda’s face drained, her jaw hanging open. “After all I’ve done for you?”
Walter shifted a step away from her, gliding to Tamia’s flank. There was something off at the end of the hall. Something was there, lurking in the shadows. Pairs of burning eyes opened, like smoldering coals hovering in the air. The eyes of Death Spawn. How did they get in?
“All you’ve done for me?” Tamia snapped, pulling the shoulder of her dress back on. “Always to live in your shadow, just a whore for your bed chambers!” she laughed.
“I raised you up, taught you everything I know. Without me you’d be nothing, and you betray me? Use one of the forbidden spells on me?” Bezda’s watery eyes were becoming icy rage.
“Oh, you are a fool for the ages. I do not serve you, in fact I have been living long before you were quickening in your mother’s womb, before your parents, and the parents before those.” Tamia glided across the polished floor, trailing a finger on an ornately carved chair.
“What? Who are you?”
“I am your reaper,” she said, voice changing from a shrill squawking to smooth and deep. She looked down at the stone, then looked up, eyes glowing with intense violet. “
My name is Hilanda, I serve the one true god, Asebor.”
“No, no. You—it can’t be.” Bezda slipped her hand onto her sword hilt and took a step back, eyes brilliant with Dragon fire.
“Oh but it is,” Tamia said, grinning.
“I trusted you!”
Tamia rose up, stretching high into the air like a creeping shadow. “The Tower will fall!” She snapped her glowing fingers and an explosive boom roared through the shattering windows, up the stairs, pulsing across the air.
“What have you done?” Bezda shrieked, hands trembling. Her hand fumbled to her sword, hissing from its scabbard.
Chapter Twenty
Abandoned Hope
“Without hope men thrive upon only passing desires. We must fight for hope.” -The Diaries of Baylan Spear
“Shit,” Juzo muttered, looking down at the four rams beating on the gates. Plenty of them were burning, but it wasn’t enough. Some of their ladders had been pushed over, but more came and they were getting overwhelmed. The crystals the bastards wore rendered the wizards harmless, like pigs in the hands of the butcher. There were a few groups of Death Spawn on the walls now, thinning out the defenders with haste. More pressed on up the ladders, armsmen and wizards chopped, stabbed, and hacked limb from limb. Four of them were advancing on him from either side, sickles and horned swords thick with blood. He was the last one here on the wall, maybe not the last man, but the last one with a human heart. The rest were finished, being run through or torn apart by the hissing animals.
Juzo dropped off the edge of the wall, falling with a graceful roll and popping up in front of Nyset and Baylan. They were going to work, slaughtering the Death Spawn at the choke points as they came down the stairs. A few were bold enough to follow him, knees and ankles failing with pops as they landed. Juzo’s sword whirled, splitting through the jaw of a Cerumal, stabbing into the chest of a half-flesh covered skeleton, chopped through the arm of a Black Wynch, its hand writhing on the ground.
The Silver Tower (The Age of Dawn Book 3) Page 25
