by Adam Watson
It was dark inside, with all the windows covered. He slowly made his way to the front window. He peered through a crack in the slats, outside he could see another patrol. More of those demons. Was the city infested? More importantly, were they searching for him and the Oracle? Had someone seen them enter the house and alerted the guards? It was going to be a bloodbath if they had.
The Creed were making their way through the alleyway, it looked like they were trying to pinpoint whatever it was they were looking for.
Suddenly the front door shook and rattled making him jump; his heart raced, and adrenaline flowed. Don’t panic, he told himself. They’re just checking the door. He could feel the Oracle behind him, so close she was almost latching onto his back; through the bond, he could feel that she was worried. The front door was locked, but if they tried the back window ...
The guard seemed satisfied with the door for the time being and was already moving on toward the next house. Good. It meant that no-one had watched them enter the building. So what are they looking for then?
Dray continued to watch on in silence with the Oracle right behind him, she was so silent he couldn’t even hear her breathe. Those demon guards were on the move, but only a little further down the street; that was still too close for Dray’s liking. What are they doing now? The demons were gathering together in the street. Dray didn’t like it, it looked too much like they were waiting for reinforcements. There were ten out there now, he hoped no more were on their way.
“They’re still out there, but they’ve moved down the street a little,” he whispered. He knew the Oracle was wondering what was going on and whether or not they would be facing a battle.
“I don’t think they’re looking for us, but I think they’re looking for someone.”
“Maybe they have found more survivors,” answered the Oracle. Dray grimaced, whatever way he thought about that particular possibility, he knew it would end badly, but before he could think about it any more, a creaking sound broke his concentration. What in the Seventh Hell is that? It was loud, it was rickety and it sounded like it was coming down the street. Dray moved closer to the slatted window and placed his eye against the crack.
“What is it?” asked the Oracle, in the tiniest of whispers. Was it Dray’s imagination or did the mysterious bond between them actually allow him to hear her more clearly? He peered down the street, what could he see? He wasn’t sure - only a vile mystery greeted his sight.
“I don’t know, but it looks like trouble.”
Along the weathered road came a rickety, old, wooden cart being pushed by what appeared to be a small group of deformed humanoids. These creatures, twisted and vile. These creatures, hungry and cruel. These seething abominations, these unnatural monsters, they made his face squirm, and his eyes writhe. They made his mouth want to scream, they made him want to reach up and grasp onto his own head - just to stop the madness from coming.
The image of them seared through his mind like a rogue fire. Keep it together Dray. These creatures had the power of dread, they could send weaker men fleeing at their very sight, but he had been trained to face such creatures in the army, he knew how to fight his way through the fear - a veteran of battle Dray did not flee.
Behind the group of twisted and deformed mutants walked another. This one was not twisted, or vile; this one was a grey-skinned demon similar to the others in the street, albeit significantly smaller. It was obvious that this one was no guard, no soldier or even a fighter, Dray was sure that he was a caster.
The cart was nearer now, and Dray could see what it carried. Glass bottles. Round, almost circular, glass bottles; there were as many as fifty to a hundred of them. They were a hazy clear and seemed to have some sort of dark liquid inside of them. Dray still wasn’t sure what they were for, but he was starting to get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“There are hundreds of glass bottles out there,” he whispered, trying to let the Oracle know what was going on.
“They will fill the night sky with fire.” Sometimes Dray wished the Oracle would just remain silent.
“Excellent,” he answered sarcastically. “Is Tempus still with us?” The Oracle smiled, was this going to be his running joke every time they were in danger?
“I hope so,” she answered noncommittally. It probably wasn’t a good idea to start relying on the intervention of Tempus for everything, both Oracles and Toracs, even the most powerful ones, all ended up dead one way or another.
Dray peered through the crack in the slats again. The ten grey-skinned demons were grabbing bottles in their hands and lining up next to each other on the other side of the road. A low guttural roar, which Dray interpreted to be some sort of command in the demon language, rose louder than the howling wind and suddenly there was a volley of round, glass balls being thrown into the air.
Dray watched as the bottles smashed over the roofs, the windows, the walls and even the doors. Black liquid flowed and oozed into every crack and crevice it encountered. They’re going to burn the whole fucking street down.
The twisted, vile-looking creatures that had been pushing the cart lined up between the ranks of the grey demons, each one of them had a bow and arrow which they had taken from the cart. Whilst they lined up the houses across the street, another twisted walked along in front of the row, lighting up the arrowheads of each of its kin; another guttural roar and the arrows flew free.
Flames ignited on contact, burning fiercely and brightly; smoke plumed into the air. These were unnatural flames, whatever was in those bottles accelerated the burning process. Dray knew that these houses would be razed to the ground in minutes.
Smoke began to pour in, it was staying high, nearer to the ceiling, but both Dray and the Oracle knew it would soon engulf the entire house. There was something different about this smoke, Dray had breathed smoke a thousand times, smoke from the fireplace when trying to keep the house warm, smoke from an open campfire in the wilderness and even smoke from a raging bonfire - none of them burnt his eyes and throat like this smoke.
He could feel it stinging, making his eyes weep uncontrollably - he was sure a lungful of it would have him writhing on the ground. They had no choice, they had to get out.
Even as he had that thought, glass smashed and a wooden chair exited the house next door. Two arrows were fired, and two of the twisted creatures fell to the ground. The door burst open, and Dray could just make out a group of humans charging the horde. Survivors! A massive berserker was leading the charge, he held before him a huge bastard sword.
Dray thought for a moment. They were human, they were armed, and they were charging the horde - as far as he was concerned that made them allies.
“Let’s go! We’ve got friends out there.” He ran to the door and booted it open with a powerful kick, the Oracle was right behind him.
Dray ran like a man possessed, there was a gap in front of him, a gap which arrows could be fired across, that meant he had to close it as quickly as possible.
Behind him the Oracle ran, he was her shield, nothing could get to her unless it went through him first. She knew what these creatures were, she had never seen them in real life before the attack on the temple, but years of training and study had given her extensive knowledge of them and their social structure.
She knew that the small one, the one without any weapons was the one controlling the twisted mutants, he emitted an energy that she could feel. She knew that the grey demons were not soldiers, but merely a guard patrol. Soldiers would be wearing heavy gauge, black armour with glowing red sigils; these ones only had light armour, made from dark-grey leather. She decided to leave the safety of Dray and made her way towards the small caster.
The berserker who had charged from the house next door cleaved through his first two victims like an unstoppable juggernaut. He cackled madly, wide-eyed and wild; bloodlust had him in its grip, and carnage followed. Two of his compatriots joined the melee, hacking and slashing; another two hung back, firing we
ll-placed arrows into the crowd.
To the side and away from the fighting, the small demon-caster had its eyes rolled back in its head. His mind was removed from the melee, his concentration focused on controlling his twisted brood - the ten vile archers still standing pulled away from the fighting and regrouped a small distance away.
The Oracle knew the fighting was too close knit for the archers to pick and choose their targets without hitting one of their own. They were not skilled, they didn’t have their own will. They were being controlled by the small demon-caster, but she also knew that the Creed could be merciless. There was a real possibility that the little demon-caster would just mow everybody down in a rain of arrows, Creed or non-Creed - she wasn’t about to allow that to happen.
Dray joined the battle, taking a quick note of where they stood. It had started as ten demon guards and twelve twisted archers versus four warriors, two archers and an Oracle – all human. The numbers had quickly dropped on both sides. Now five demon guards and two archers lay dead, but so too did two of the human warriors.
The two human archers were well back, but there was no cover for them. The acidic smoke and flames from the burning buildings billowed behind them, cutting off any form of retreat - it was only a matter of time before they got knocked out of the equation.
Dray hacked his way to the berserker, two swords were going to be better than one. Off in the distance, a horn could be heard, loud and from high above. Dray looked at the berserker, and the berserker looked at him.
“That can’t be good,” he said with a shrug of the shoulders.
The Oracle had reached the small demon-caster. Hearing her approach, he opened his eyes and examined her. In his mind, she was lithe, she was fragile, and she was weak - he smiled as he greeted her. Then ten twisted bodies, heinous and vile turned in her direction, their arrows knocked and ready to fire.
The Oracle didn’t turn to run though, she didn’t fear the twisted ones or their arrows. No, this is what she had been trained for. She looked into the eyes of the forsaken. He thought she was weak, but she would show him just how strong she was.
“Look into my eyes beast, and tell me what you see.” Those fires, those burning cauldrons turned to face the Oracle. She stared deep, past the flames and into the pits of darkness. This mind had been touched by magic and was tainted by the will of Solus Bal, but Solus Bal was weak, Solus Bal had been cut off from the world a long time ago. The demon-caster sought to dominate her mind, but Tempus was with her, and Tempus was much more powerful than him - the demon-caster screamed as his mind shattered to oblivion.
Dray was down to three. Him, the berserker and one of the archers. The other archer now lay dead with a small hand axe embedded in his chest. Around Dray and the berserker, a pile of dead demons lay; hacked and mangled, smashed and broken.
In the distance, the unseen horns continued to blow, and soon more horns joined the chorus. Dray didn’t have time for introductions before more Creed appeared. Those fucking horn blowers are attracting the attention of the entire bloody city! The berserker placed his huge paw around Dray’s shoulder.
“Are you ready for round two, friend?” He said it with such a grin that Dray actually found himself smiling.
“There’s no use stopping now is there?” The big berserker laughed and clapped Dray on the back.
“That’s the spirit!” he shouted, they both turned to face the oncoming crowd. The remaining archer, looking on from a distance, found herself a more protected position behind the cart and readied her bow.
The Creed came down the street, trickling at first. The allies killed one, they killed two. At first it was easy, but then two became four, and four became eight, and now a full squad of twenty came marching down the alleyway.
Dray watched them come, their eyes burning like hellfire, a mass of grey skin, white hair and black horns. Then a realisation dawned on him - they were trapped, and there was nothing they could do.
Behind the humans, a thick, noxious cloud of acidity as black as the midnight sun plumed into the sky. The houses burned fiercely and were already half razed to the ground. There was nowhere to go except back into the smoke and flames - retreating was not an option.
That left them with only one path to travel, they would have to go forward and somehow plough their way through this squad of twenty, then escape into the rabbit warren beyond. It’s suicide.
The squad charged. Dray knew in his mind that he could not beat them. He knew they didn’t stand a chance, but they were coming, and there was nowhere to run.
“Looks like this is the end,” muttered the berserker, who then raised his bastard sword high into the air. “AAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEAAAAHHH!” It was the roar of a titan, it was the roar of his clan. A war cry used by his ancestors throughout the ages, both powerful and inspiring, even Dray standing next to him felt like his strength had just doubled in that moment. The horde moved forward, closing the gap. “AAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEAAAAHHH!” The berserker screamed again and in that moment half the squad fell down. Dray looked at him in awe, had that actually happened? Did his war cry just mow down half the squad of demonspawn? The berserker looked back at him wide-eyed and just as confused.
Dray could feel something in the air, something in his blood, something unnatural, but undoubtedly divine. The Oracle was doing something magical, using her divine powers to overcome those who opposed her. He knew it in his heart and could feel it in his bones, there was no question or doubt in his mind. He looked over to where she was. She had that look on her face, the same one she had when she was controlling the bestial in the dungeon beneath the city. The twisted creatures fired again, mowing more of their allies down in a torrent of arrows. In that moment, Dray knew that the Oracle was controlling them.
The demon-caster writhed on the ground in front of her, his eyes no longer red like fire, but as blue as the azure sky. The Oracle stood above, her eyes glowing with a bluish hue. As she moved her hands, the twisted moved. Dray and his two new allies finished off the surviving demonspawn as the twisted archers then turned to face each other and on the next volley of arrows they were all dead.
“Run!” shouted the Oracle. “Run, before more come!” Dray didn’t think twice about it, they needed to get out of this alleyway before more came and blocked them off. The horns were still blowing loudly around the city, and for as long as they continued, they all knew that they were in danger. Banding together, they all met at the end of the street, ran around the corner and were gone.
***
They ran like hunted foxes fleeing from the jaws of snapping dogs - they had become prey. Horns blasted and echoed throughout the city, bells tolled, the alarm was raised, even now shouting could be heard - soon they would have the equivalent of an army chasing them. That might have seemed like overkill to some, but it was a testament to just how much the Creed wanted the city cleared of survivors.
They ran through the streets and alleyways, never heading straight for long, always turning and weaving their way through. Sometimes they would cut through a yard, jumping the fences in between, sometimes they climbed up and ran along the rooftops - anything to make the trail harder to follow, but the pursuers were always there.
For hours they ran, the horns blew and echoed throughout the day, the soldiers seemed to be everywhere. The newly formed band of allies were forced to go into hiding and take a stealthier approach; sometimes they would wait, hoping the Creed would tire and give up their pursuit - but they never did.
Light began to fade and in a few short hours nightfall would be upon them. If anyone in the party thought it was tough now, they would be facing a nightmare when the sun went down - for that is when the creatures of the night would emerge.
Time passed and as it did Dray began to internalise. He had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling. He had started noticing that they were moving further and further towards the west wall. Not by choice, but everything seemed to be pushing them there.
In the beginning, everybod
y had thought that after a few hours of evasion the hunting would stop, but the Creed had been relentless, never allowing them to rest and always forcing them to the west. They were like bees being smoked out of the hive and Dray didn’t like it one little bit. He didn’t like the fact that the Creed had a plan, a plan that had forced him to do their will - they had cast their net long and wide, and now they were pulling it in.
“Listen,” Dray began. “We can’t keep running, that’s what they want us to do, they’re herding us to the west wall. It’s an open area with little protection.” The group stopped to listen, their faces told Dray that they agreed with his sentiment and that they could see the sense in his words, but one glance also told him that they could see no alternative.
“I agree,” answered the berserker. “But what other choice do we have?”
“None that I can see.” Dray looked up, it was the archer, she had been quiet until now, but she too must have been able to see just how dire the circumstances were. Dray closed his eyes and tried to think. The temples were targets, so that made them too dangerous to approach. After what had happened to the Temple of Kara, he would be surprised if there were any left standing in the city.
The city barracks which led into the walls were their best chance to get out of the city, but after what happened at the west gate, it was clear that the army was willing to kill anything that moved; friend or foe. Maybe it was just that particular commander, maybe it was just the west wall, but did they dare risk going anywhere near the barracks? If the rest of the army were like the commander of the west gate they wouldn't stand a chance - even the archer agreed it was a bad idea, having had her own bad encounters with the guards.
Dray thought back. That fucking commander at the west gate. He was a cur and a fetid doglover. Did he really have orders to kill them all or was he just a sadistic bastard? You've ruined everything. Dray could feel the rage heating his blood. Those guards shot me off the horse and left me to die. He remembered that horse and how it had cantered through the tar. The fucking horse made it! The thought that something had actually made it out of this hell-hole alive made him smile. He remembered that he had laid in blood for a long time, too exhausted to move, but somehow, what was going on around him had filtered into his mind.
