by Peter Oxley
Byron was the first to speak. “It is not really her,” he said gently. “It never was. The person we brought back from the afterlife was the Wraith that had infected Kate; it latched onto your thoughts and desires and made them flesh, showing all of us exactly what you wanted: your sister.”
Joshua shook his head. “No. It can’t be. It must be her.”
Kate put an arm around his shoulders. “Me old chuckaboo, we need you. We need to get them runes from Belial before it’s all over.”
“But what about Lexie…?” Tears were forming in his eyes, his face desperate.
I squatted down in front of him, waiting until he raised his head to look at me. “Lexie is gone,” I said as gently as I could. “She is resting, at peace, somewhere. Not that strange, hideous place you took us to; that was all just a trick, an illusion—a deception in fact. We have been played by Belial all of this time, don’t you see? Once again they have been playing the long game against us. Kate’s kidnap was just a way to get us to go where the demons had not been able to until then, so that we could retrieve the last rune for them.”
“Although I only see four runes there,” said Pearce. “The one from the afterlife, the one on Belial’s sword, the one from the Aether and Gus’ sword. Where’s the other one? Lexie?” Then the realisation dawned upon him. “Gaap. That is why Andras was so keen to take him, why Joshua has suddenly had so much more power after the battle in the Citadel and why Andras would not let him out of his sight.”
Byron nodded. “Yes. There is the small matter of why Andras did not feel it necessary to tell us all of this, but we will save that discussion for another day—hopefully once the concept of ‘day’ has been re-established. In the meantime, we have more pressing business to attend to.” We all looked to Joshua.
“I’m sorry to do this mate,” said Kate, before slapping him hard across the face. “You need to grow a pair, Joshua Bradshaw. Everyone needs you right now. There’ll be time to wallow in pity later. We’ve all been through Hell, some of us a lot more literally than you. If I can snap out of it, then you bloody well can as well.”
Joshua looked back at her with hurt bewilderment, his mouth opening and closing. When Kate lifted her hand again, ready to strike, he nodded quickly. “All right, all right. What do you need me to do?”
We made our way through the ranks of soldiers still transfixed by the demonic punch-up, towards the Wraith and the five runes that it was guarding. We shuffled nervously forwards, weapons drawn and ready, keeping a watchful eye on the combatants as well as the Wraith/Lexie creature in front of us. In my hand I held an ordinary steel broadsword, a crude weapon that Pearce had commandeered for me from an infantry officer. The weapon felt bulky and clumsy in my hand, a poor substitute for the finely balanced precision of my own sword, which was now clutched in Gaap’s hand.
A desperate, foolish part of me had hoped that I would still be able to fight with as much power and precision as I had when in possession of the runic sword, although a niggling part of my own brain pleaded with me to not be so stupid as to try to put that to the test.
As we approached, the Wraith’s head snapped round once more to face us. It turned its body, still recognisably Lexie but also so much more now that we could see through its veil of pretence. It seemed to billow and swell before us, a sickly white apparition that formed a gossamer yet formidable wall in our path. As one, the nearest demons turned to face us and we found ourselves surrounded on three sides by our enemies, countless numbers of them, whilst the final side of our prison was formed by the deadly battle between Andras and Belial.
We looked around at the hopelessly large numbers that encircled us, and past them at the unmoving figures of the human soldiers, still enthralled by Belial and whatever fugue he had cast on them.
“Don’t know about you boys,” said Kate, raising her pistol, “but it looks like today is turnin’ out to be a good day to die after all.”
Chapter Twenty
Andras was being thrown back again and again under the onslaught from Belial, the demon King laughing as he rained down blow after blow. Stumbling to one knee, Andras clumsily batted away one last swing, his sword arm crumbling under the weight of the attack.
Belial cackled gleefully. “I have been toying with you, enjoying our little game, but it is time for this to end. It is time for death; I can already feel the power of the five runes flowing through me. I am ready to reclaim my birthright.”
Andras roared in anger at these words, throwing himself forwards in one last desperate attack, swinging his sword in a mighty arc straight at Belial’s throat.
The demon King easily swatted the blade aside, as though Andras were no more than a slightly bothersome insect. The sword went flying from Andras’ grasp and he landed heavily on the ground. Before he could recover himself, Belial followed up with a kick to his face before stamping down hard on his chest.
Belial held his own sword aloft, the point directed straight at Andras’ forehead. “You know your problem, Andras? You have allowed yourself to grow weak in your new home. There once was a time when we were well matched, but this world and its people have infected you. It is your own weakness, you should not have allowed it; just like I did not allow myself to be infected, instead choosing to infect them.” He raised his sword high. “And because of that weakness, you now die!”
Andras cocked an eyebrow at him and grinned broadly. “Do you know something?” he said. “I do believe you are correct.” He closed his eyes and muttered a spell, his whole body starting to glow with the force of the incantation. Belial glared at him in confusion. “What’s this?” he managed, before everything around him exploded in a flash of bright white light.
The demons surrounding myself and my friends were pressed back by this sudden force while Belial, having been closest to the blast, was thrown several yards away.
Andras rose to his feet, a hideous and demonic grin spreading wide across features that were even more angular than before. This was Andras at the height of his demonic powers, something far beyond that which we had become accustomed to spending time with. This was a creature from every living nightmare, a hybrid of legend and half-truths, the God of Lies. Andras flexed his arms and held out a hand, his sword flying into his grasp. “You are so right, my dear Belial,” he said in a sibilant hiss that stretched to every corner of the battlefield. “I was weak for far too long. But no more!”
Belial roared in disbelief and charged towards Andras, an attack that was met with ease by the freshly revitalised and chuckling demon.
“What the…?” asked Pearce.
My attention had been drawn to a new, huddled figure hunched against the ground not far from where we stood. A dark creature curled up in a ball. Something about that form was very, very familiar. I ran over, for the moment completely unmindful of all the enemies around us.
I reached the figure, which was clothed in a long black greatcoat, and put a hand on its shoulder. The thing unfolded in front of me, uncurling and stretching out to reveal a very familiar face.
“N’yotsu?” I gasped.
He looked at me with those piercing dark eyes, a steely grin on his face. “The very same. It has been some time, has it not? Are you ready to cause one last act of mayhem?”
I laughed. “It would be my pleasure,” I said. I pointed over to our friends. “We do seem to be in a bit of a pickle though.”
N’yotsu nodded briskly. “I’m sure we can do something about that,” he said. He raised his hands above his head and clapped once, a thunderous sound that echoed around the battlefield. As one the human armies seemed to wake up from their reverie, looking around at each other and then noticing the demons and Soul-less before them. Scattered shouts of disgust and anger erupted from around the field, quickly taken up until the demons were surrounded by an almighty wall of noise, a visceral yell of sheer unbridled release as all the human armies of the world converged on these unnatural foes.
“I should thank you for sett
ing me free once more,” Andras said to Belial, parrying a blow before twisting and then striking back with his own blade.
Belial met the attack in a shower of sparks. “You only delay the inevitable,” he snarled before glancing up, momentarily confused by the change in focus of the battles around them. “What have you done?” Belial scowled.
Andras grinned. “You see, you are not the only one who has been playing a long game, moulding and shaping humanity, et cetera. While you were so keen to remove all hope, to create a race that are utterly subservient to your will, I also saved my greatest gifts for them: lies and free will.” He batted away another attack before continuing: “That’s not all. This world was never yours, but you have also lost Almadel as well. Even now the Slaves are rising against you, taking control of your own realm.” He grinned even wider. “Before you die, know this: I, Andras, Sire of Var, have taken everything from you!”
Belial screamed as he swung his sword at him once more.
Back at our own small corner of the battlefield, the Wraith roared in frustration as its honour guard melted away, distracted by the battles they were now facing on so many different fronts. N’yotsu and I ran back to join Kate, Pearce, Joshua and Byron, sharing quick, wide-eyed nods before we faced up to the Wraith. It was a sign of the urgency of our situation that they all filed away the unexpected reappearance of someone we had thought long-gone, only to be discussed when—or indeed if—we survived this ordeal.
Joshua held out a hand to stop us and then advanced on his own.
He walked steadily, his hands outstretched in front of him to show that he was not armed. “Lexie,” he said softly. “Lexie, I know there must be something of you left in there. It’s me, your brother.”
The Wraith stared back at him, this unexpected turn of events leaving it momentarily unsure.
“What’s he doing?” hissed Kate. “I thought I’d snapped him out of this.”
I held out a hand to steady her. Joshua was face-to-face with the Wraith by this point, staring steadily into its eyes. “Please, there must be something of you left in there, dear Lexie,” he said.
Miraculously, the Wraith was transfixed by this display, staring back at him as he edged ever closer. “I just have one thing I wanted to say,” he said. “I just… I’m so, so sorry.” He took a deep breath and, tears streaming down his cheeks, muttered a series of incantations. The Wraith started to shriek and back away but it was too late—a brilliant blue fire shot out from Joshua’s hands, engulfing the malevolent entity. It writhed and howled in the midst of this inferno before disappearing with an unnatural echo. Gaap had been watching this display in open-mouthed horror and turned to run, only to find Joshua’s hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked at him, rapidly shaking his head. “No, no please,” he said rapidly. “I don’t… I did not realise… I can’t be…”
Joshua’s face was implacable as he muttered some more words, and in a flash Gaap was transformed into a circular runic plate not unlike the one that we had brought back from the afterlife.
I picked up my runic sword, savouring the reassuring weight and the flow of energy washing over me once more. “Now we can have some fun!” I said.
N’yotsu put a hand on my shoulder. “No,” he said. “That needs to remain here,” he plucked the sword lightly from my grip. “There is one more very important job we need to do.”
I glared at him in frustration but the sense of his words cut through my anger. I watched as N’yotsu spoke with Joshua, muttering urgent instructions, laying out the runes in a pattern and scratching out instructions in the dirt at our feet. I looked around, picking up the heavy and clumsy infantry broadsword once more and standing ready to defend my friends in whatever task it was N’yotsu had set them. Kate and Pearce were at my side, occasionally firing rounds from their modified rifles.
“Looks like we’re not really needed this time, don’t it?” said Kate, a broad grin on her face.
“Everything still looks too evenly matched,” I said, “and we have that beast to deal with yet.” I nodded over to Belial, who was still locked in battle with Andras.
The two demons were perfectly matched in speed, skill, agility and ruthlessness. Every blow was met with a counter-blow, every attack was defended, no move was too quick that it could not be anticipated and blocked or evaded. They appeared tireless and I wondered if we were witnessing the beginnings of a battle that would rage on for all eternity.
N’yotsu appeared at our side, ushering us away from the circle in which Joshua stood. We looked over to see that the young man’s face was aglow with rapt concentration, already reflecting the sheer power flowing through him.
“What’s he doing?” asked Pearce. “Is it some sort of weapon?”
N’yotsu shook his head. “No,” he said. “It is so much better than that. We are creating the most permanent prison ever.”
There was a flash from above, as though we were at the heart of a violent electrical storm. We looked up to see a gaping red hole in the sky, a swirling mass as though we were staring up into the maw of a roiling volcano about to erupt.
“Now,” shouted N’yotsu, his voice once more travelling to every side of the field, seeping into our very consciousness as though it had been there all of our lives. “Lie down now!”
Without thinking, every human on the field lay down. I glanced up at the sound of screaming to see the demons being plucked up and away into the heavens and through that hideous gullet. First a couple, then a handful, and then whole chunks of the battlefield were swirling, screaming up into that apocalyptic conflagration. The vortex pulled at the mask that had covered the sky, greedily sucking up the nothingness and taking it along with the demons.
Finally, Belial and Andras whirled up into the sky, still locked in battle and focused only on each other as they spun up and into the hole.
As the last shriek echoed away I looked back at Joshua as he lowered his hands.
With a pop, the hole disappeared, leaving behind a bright blue sky flecked with clouds: a perfect summer’s day.
Chapter Twenty-One
We stood in the sudden stillness, looking at the confused yet slowly recovering human armies around us. Joshua collapsed in a heap and we ran to him, helping him to sit up and make himself comfortable. “I’m all right,” he gasped, “just somewhat drained.”
Pearce called for water and a nearby soldier handed over a canteen that Joshua drank greedily from, nodding his thanks as he returned it. Then he looked up at the empty place where the Wraith had stood, as though he expected to see his sister there. He burst into tears, his body convulsing as he finally gave voice to his grief. Kate put an arm round him.
“What exactly happened there?” she asked the rest of us.
“Do you remember when we first arrived in the afterlife and Gaap accused me of sending us all to a place called the Druj?” asked N’yotsu. Then, in response to our puzzled glances: “Well, not me—Andras. But I am one and the same person in many ways, even though I once again occupy separate bodies.”
We shook our heads slowly.
“I suppose there was a lot going on at the time,” he conceded.
“Ever so slightly,” I agreed.
“Indeed. Well, Gaap did suspect that the afterlife was in fact the place we Almadites refer to as the Druj, a place that is beyond the Aether and any other realm for that matter.”
“Like the afterlife?” asked Kate.
“Even more remote,” said N’yotsu. “It is normally beyond the abilities of anyone to reach. It was the place that parents would threaten their children with, somewhere that has taken on an almost mythical nature over the centuries. Where we send our Gods to die.”
“And yet you knew exactly how to find it,” Byron noted.
“Do not forget that I have had millennia of wandering, exiled from my home realm, to explore and figure out the secrets of creation. I met many people over the long, long centuries who showed me more than even Belial knew. While he was fix
ated on power for its own sake, unable to see beyond Almadel and its petty squabbles, my horizons were broadened exponentially.”
“Including playing with the development of the human race,” said Byron. “To satisfy your own ends?”
“To frustrate Belial’s goals,” he said, a look of shame on his face. “Although I admit that at first there was a fair amount of sport and pleasure in what I did. However, you must admit that it worked out well for us in the end, did it not?”
I looked around. Were it not for his intervention, we would surely have been overwhelmed by the demons and ended up forever under Belial’s control. However, it was bad enough when I had discovered that my family had been manipulated by Andras to achieve his own ends; to realise that the whole of the human race had also been the playthings of demons was a crushing blow. And now that they were gone, what was to become of us?
“You back, then?” Kate said to N’yotsu. “Are you really N’yotsu again?”
He smiled. “I—Andras—realised that to not lose to Belial, I needed to fight like him: without the more human side of my nature. And so Andras exorcised that part of him.” He held his arms wide. “And here I am.”
“Back full circle once more,” I said. “But does this mean you will die?”
“Eventually, yes. As we discovered last time, I am not meant to be separated from my demon aspect for too long. Hopefully I have a few years in me yet, though.”
I frowned. “You—Andras—whatever—sacrificed yourself for us…?”
N’yotsu shrugged.
“We could use the runes to bring Andras back and reunite you,” said Joshua, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “I need a little while to recover, but…”
“No,” snapped N’yotsu. “They will never be used again.”
Epilogue
