CRY FEAR

by Mike Morris

  She'd never seen the like. "What was that?"

  "Magic," said Willingham and set off once more.

  "Magic?" she repeated as he ran toward the rear of the palace. She looked around her at the burning corpses of the damned, the smoking walls and the pockets of fire. How had the man come across such power?

  She picked up a sword from one of the dead guards and followed. She felt better now she was armed once more but it was a paltry weapon compared to the one she'd lost, and it was nothing when she thought of Willingham's display. Why had he kept it secret?

  The chancellor was way ahead of her but his trail was easy to follow — burning bodies and charred remains littered the way, and always the flash and boom of more of his magics. She wanted to laugh. How she'd waited for this moment — to see the damned wiped out like this, and so easily. The Black Dogs didn't need their stupid god to save them. They needed this man and his magic.

  She caught up with him as he stepped out into the courtyard at the rear of the palace. Snow drifted down, settling on the gray stone, already stained by the smoke. She could hear gunshots still, from the river and from the direction of the monastery, but for the moment they were alone in the courtyard. They moved quickly, heading out into the gardens. "Why are we running?"

  "They'll be after us soon."

  "So what?" said Lin. "Just blast them. Burn them all."

  Willingham grimaced as he ran, his pace already slowing. "It's not as easy as that. There's too many of them. Magic needs to be fueled. Once that fuel is used, I am powerless once more."

  "What fuel?" asked Lin, then remembered what Simon had said to her only a few days ago in Taveson — magic needed blood to work. "The wine you drank ..."

  He nodded. "Wasn't wine."

  "Shit. You're not ...?" Lin stopped and raised her sword, suddenly more afraid than she had ever been.

  "No, I'm not one of them. I'm on your side — Abios' side." Willingham looked back at the burning palace. "Unlike our friends, the Knights of Saint Stephen, I always knew this day would come, and I knew their blades and their bullets would not be enough to stop the Nostros and their creations." He beckoned her closer. "Stand behind me. Stay close."

  Lin slipped into position as he asked. The man was right. She could see shapes and shadows moving around by the windows, spilling out into the courtyard. All headed in their direction. She could see the trail she and Willingham had left in the snow. The monsters would have no trouble finding them. She tightened her grip on her sword. "We need to get out of here."

  She started to move but Willingham put a hand on her shoulder. "Wait."

  "Why—"

  Red eyes appeared in the darkness from the far side of the gardens. A dozen ... no, two dozen ... shit, probably more. Their escape route was blocked off. Lin looked over her shoulder at the palace. They were everywhere there as well — coming out the windows, out the doors, spreading out around the courtyard. They'd be surrounded soon.

  "Time for your magic," said Lin. "Burn the bastards."

  Willingham took a deep breath. He opened his palms. "Sollyis."

  Nothing happened.

  "I said use your magic, old man," snapped Lin as she watched the Master's Children close in on them. They came from every direction, running and howling.

  "The blood's worn off. My power's gone."

  "Shit. Fuck." She tightened her grip on her sword, but she knew there were too many of the evil creatures for them to have any hope of walking away alive. It was over.

  33

  Jack

  It was chaos in the courtyard at the monastery. There was no order, no discipline. Just Black Dogs fighting for their lives. The demons they fought had the same training as they did, the same experience, the same weapons, and yet they were faster and stronger than any human. They were tireless in their attacks, merciless in their approach. And they were winning.

  Jack fired at one of the Turned, trying not to think of the man he'd once been. His bullet clipped the creature in the shoulder, enough to spin him around and into the path of Robert's hammer. The blow crushed the Turned's face but he stayed on his feet, slashing at the air with his sword until a second strike pulped his skull for good.

  Jack dropped the spent pistol and just got his sword up in time to block a thrust from another of Alexis' men. Jack recognized him — Brother Raymond from Whitehaven. Jack had fought him once while they were students and won. Somehow, he didn't think he'd be so lucky this time. Raymond howled as he attacked, hacking down with his sword again and again. Each blow shook Jack to the bones and threatened to smash through his brother's blade. He retreated, acting only on instinct, trying to find some room to catch his breath. Maybe if he could get his other pistol, shoot the bastard from point-blank range, he might have a chance, but Raymond wasn't going to give him that opportunity. Jack needed both hands to hold onto his sword just to stay alive.

  He stepped back again and caught his foot on a corpse. He fell back —and saw Raymond's sword slash through the space where his head had been. Jack tumbled over the body and rolled back to his feet, wincing as the stitches across his chest burst. Raymond advanced, baring his fangs, eager to put an end to the fight, when a bullet struck him in the chest. He staggered back, looking down at the hole. Black blood oozed out — it wasn't a killing shot, but it gave Jack the chance he needed. He drew the pistol from his belt, pulled back the hammer with his thumb and placed the barrel against Raymond's head just as the Turned looked up. He pulled the trigger. The bullet burst out of the barrel with a roar, chased by flame. It tore straight through the Turned's skull, driving the creature's brains out the back of his head.

  Jack sucked air into his tired lungs, desperate for some respite, but a Turned had a Black Dog on the ground a few yards away, biting and tearing at the man's neck. He kicked and screamed, trying to get the creature off him, and Jack rushed to help. He hacked a bloody chunk out of the Turned's side and, as the creature reared up in pain, he reversed the stroke and took the damned's head from his shoulders. He was too late to save the Black Dog, though. He lay on the ground, white as the falling snow, a jagged hole for a throat, staining the ground red.

  On the other side of the memorial, the abbot went down under the swords of two of Alexis' men. Up on the walls, another six Turned were making short work of the Black Dogs stationed there. Alexis had only lost four of his men so far but the Black Dogs had lost nearly ten times that number.

  "Robert!" shouted Jack. "We need to fall back."

  The big man swung his hammer between a Turned's legs, lifting him off the ground, then wheeled around and caught another in the chest. "Lead the way."

  "Black Dogs!" called Jack. "To the Great Hall."

  The last remaining knights fell in together, back to back as they made their way to the Great Hall, a distance of only a dozen yards. Eight left out of fifty. They hacked their way forward, keeping the Turned at bay with blade and bullet. They moved slowly, surrounded as they were by the damned, not taking chances. Snow drifted down around them, twisting and turning in the wind, settling at their feet, covering the dead.

  The Turned hissed and probed with their claws and their swords, but none made it past the Black Dogs' defense. Jack saw Alexis. His eyes glowed red as he snarled in frustration at being kept back. Black holes on his neck marked where the Nostros had turned him only two days before. The man had been a legend; now he was just one of the damned. No one deserved that fate.

  They stopped at the steps to the Great Hall. Two of the Turned barred the way. Robert charged them, swinging his hammer. He shattered a sword and crushed an arm of one and then slammed the haft into the face of the other. The broken-armed creature lunged for the big man with his fangs, but Jack slashed him across the back, cutting him down.

  The Black Dogs reached the doors and the men piled into the Great Hall while Jack and Robert guarded the way. The Turned gathered below them, hissing and howling, red eyes burning with fury.

  "Dogs!" The voice thundered ac
ross the courtyard. Every head turned toward the gate.

  A monster stood there. A giant. The Nostros. He filled the gateway, a promise of death to come. "You have something that belongs to me."

  "May God save us," said Robert.

  They watched the Nostros stride across the courtyard. He wore a long black coat that flapped in the wind and there was a glint of metal at his waist. Jack recognized Lin's sword, but it looked no more than a dagger next to the demon. How he wished he had the sword now and not the Nostros. To have a weapon that could turn the demons into ash could've turned the tide their way. "Get inside. Bar the door."

  Jack and Robert retreated into the Great Hall and slammed the door shut behind them. Two Black Dogs dropped a heavy oak bar in place, sealing the doors shut.

  "We'll need more than that to stop that bastard," said Robert. "Drag anything you can against the doors." The men obeyed instantly, piling up pews. The doors shook while they worked as the Turned tried to break it down. Each bang echoed around the holy space.

  "It's still not going to last long against the Nostros," said Jack, trying to catch his breath.

  "We can still walk away from this," said Robert. "There's only ten of them plus the Nostros outside. We'll get the gunpowder the abbot stashed in here and stack them on either side of the door. When they come through, we'll blow the bastards up."

  "That might work," said Jack. "By God, it might."

  "I'm a gunner," said a priest, his arm limp by his side. "If someone will give me a hand, I can rig it all up."

  "Get to it, and be quick," said Robert.

  The man limped off, taking three men with him.

  Jack slid down a pillar, grateful to be off his feet. He touched the wound on his chest and his hand came away covered in blood. Robert crouched down next to him. "Not the best homecoming for you, eh?"

  Jack smiled. "Such is a Black Dog's lot."

  "Aye, lad," said Robert. "At least we'll be in good company up in heaven — Nial, Guy, Brendan, and probably a good few hundred more after tonight."

  Jack looked around the Great Hall. It was a beautiful space still; the light from a thousand candles flickered across the room and over the painted glass windows that ran along both sides of the hall. "It's a good place to die — if it comes to that."

  The Turned continued to pound at the door, beating a deathly rhythm against the old oak doors, reminding them all of the fate that awaited them. At last, the gunner and the other priests had four barrels of gunpowder stacked on either side of the doors.

  Jack and Robert watched the gunner fix short fuses to the barrels and then pass torches out to the three men with him. Once the doors gave way, all they had to do was touch a torch to a fuse and it'd all be over. With any luck, that would sort the damned out, and at least some of the Black Dogs would live to fight another day.

  Jack began loading his two remaining pistols with the bullets and powder from his pouch, out of habit more than anything else. He bit into a cartridge, holding the round lead bullet in his mouth. The gunpowder tasted as bitter as ever. He poured most of the powder down the barrel of the gun, then spat the bullet after it. He used the paper from the cartridge to wedge everything in place before using the small rod from under the barrel to ram it all in as tight as possible. The last few grains of powder went into the frizzen to make sure it sparked when he pulled the trigger. "Did you see the Nostros has Lin's sword?" he said as he started loading the second pistol.

  "Is that why you're loading the guns?" said Robert. "You're not planning on trying to get it back for her, are you?"

  "We could use something like that, but no, I'm not."

  Robert watched him work. "Are you worried about her?"

  "Who?" said Jack, but Robert just raised an eyebrow. "Yes ... no. I don't know," he said in the end. "For now? Maybe she's alive still, but the Nostros will be going for her next — if he hasn't already done so."

  "Best we blow the bastard sky-high then. She'll be all right if we do that." Robert glanced over at the gunner to check everything was ready. The man gave him a thumbs up. "Did you ever tell her how you feel about her?"

  Jack's mouth dropped open. "How did you know?"

  Robert laughed. "Please. I may be a priest but I'm not dumb. I see the way you look at her — and the way she looks at you."

  Jack looked down at the gun in his hand. "I'm a priest, too."

  "So what, lad? You're human first and foremost. Our lives are damn short at the best of times. If we all get out of this mess tonight, you tell her how you feel. Love's God's greatest gift. Don't throw it away."

  "We've got to survive tonight first," said Jack.

  "We—"

  The hammering on the door stopped. The surviving Black Dogs looked at each other, holding their breath.

  "Be ready with the fuses," said Robert to the gunner.

  The silence was more unnerving than the pounding on the door. "What are they doing?" said Jack, climbing to his feet.

  Robert tightened his grip on his hammer. "I don't like this."

  The painted glass windows along either side of the Great Hall shattered into a thousand shards as the Turned crashed through them. They dropped down into the Great Hall, their Black Dog uniforms in shreds from the glass, twisted mockeries of the noble men they once were.

  Alexis and another of his men headed straight for the gunner and the explosives. They leaped and bounded over the pews, and bounced off the pillars of the winged warriors. Jack tried to get a shot off at the Turned but they moved so fast. Too fast. They were horror incarnate.

  Alexis' sword streaked out and the gunner's head fell from his shoulders. The other Turned lashed out at the man next to him, carving him in half before the gunner's body had even hit the floor. They jumped over the barricade, seeking the other Black Dogs on the other side.

  Time slowed. Alexis roared. His sword swept down. A priest dropped his torch and covered his face with his arms. The sword hacked into flesh and bone. The torch tumbled through the air. Blood sprayed out as Alexis' sword cleaved into the man's skull. The torch hit the top of the barrel of gunpowder. Sparks flew up as the Black Dog died. The torch settled on the barrel. Flames ran across the lid, found the fuse.

  "Get down!" screamed Jack, throwing himself on top of Robert as the world exploded.

  34

  Lin

  Lin watched the Master's Children approach. Was the Master with them? Fear ran through her, as bad as it had ever been. She felt like she was the slave girl once more, living on some damned creature's mercy, and that wasn't how she wanted to die. She was a fighter, damn it — not their fucking victim. "There must be something you can do," she said to Willingham.

  "I need blood. Blood makes the magic work," he said. His voice shook. "I haven't got any."

  "How much do you need?"

  "What?"

  "I said how much blood do you need to make it work?"

  "It doesn't matter — we haven't got any!"

  "I have," said Lin. She pushed the sleeve of her left arm up.

  "What are you doing?" said Willingham. "We have to run."

  Lin drew her blade across her arm, cutting a long red line into her flesh. "Drink this."

  Willingham shook his head. "No."

  "Drink it or we're dead." She thrust the arm out to him.

  Willingham hesitated for a moment, then seized her arm and sucked on the cut. Lin watched as the Master's Children closed in on them. They slowed as they got nearer, encircling them. "Hurry up. Hurry up."

  Still he sucked on her arm, drinking her blood. She started to feel light-headed. She tried to pull her arm away but Willingham held onto it with a strength that shocked her. "Willingham! Let me go."

  "Watch out, watch out, there's a Nostros about. Don't hide, run fast, they think you're meat. Whatever you do, be quick on your feet. No one's safe when there's a Nostros about." The voice rang out from the darkness. A child's voice — not a Master — but it chilled her to the bone. "Naughty girl. Naughty g
irl. Time to pay, time to die."

  Willingham let go of her arm and looked up, wide-eyed and half-mad. His mouth, teeth and beard were stained red with her blood and, for a moment, Lin thought she might have to use her sword on him instead. Then he seemed to see her and some focus came back.

  "Did it work?" asked Lin.

  "I don't know. I've never tried it like this before."

  The red eyes closed in on them, forming a ring around them. Light from the burning palace caught their faces, revealing men, women and children of all ages, twisted and Turned by the Master's blood.

  "Now's the time to fucking find out, old man."

  Willingham took another deep breath and held out his hands once more. "Sollyis."

  Small balls of light appeared above the palms of each hand. Lin nearly laughed at the sight of them. The Children hissed as if they knew what was about to happen. One lunged at Lin, screaming with rage and fear, and she slashed her sword across its face.

  Another attacked. She just managed to sidestep out of its way, but another's claws sliced down her back. She cried out with pain and dropped to one knee. The creature wrapped its arms around her, but Lin reversed her sword and stabbed back, feeling the blade pierce its flesh. She pushed and twisted and fell from the monster's grasp. She fell to the ground and saw the fire in Willingham's hands explode. She covered her eyes with her arm but still the flash seared her eyes.

  Then all was quiet, all was still. Snow fell on Lin's face. She could smell smoke and ash. She opened her eyes. At first, all she could see was spots of light through teary eyes. Then she blinked again and again, and the world slipped back into focus.

  Willingham was on his knees beside her. All around them was a ring of ash. Not one of the damned had survived.