by E. B. Huffer
"The Giant may be incapacitated, but I'm not!" replied Margie.
Viljar said nothing, but a small smile passed his lips.
A short time later, Margie, Archie, Viljar and Rohland arrived at a clearing beneath a rocky outcrop where a crowd of around twenty men were sharpening and fixing all manner of weapons. The air was alive with excited babble.
"Defenders be quiet!" shouted Archie. "The portal is vulnerable tonight. Our sentries have informed me that there are hundreds advancing. More than we have ever faced. This is a battle that will test our strength, courage and resilience. The Malignants will attempt to destroy us through sheer numbers. They are determined to gain access to the portal. But we cannot let them gain control of the doorway to the world of the living. We must fight to the end to protect it from their wicked ambitions. We have no choice. With all our power and might we will be victorious. Using arrows and swords, axes and pistols we will bring together centuries of warfare to stand up to our nemesis. It won't be easy; they are ruthless, brutal fighters. We know this. But I have confidence that we will succeed in defending what is not theirs to take. We must leave now and carry as many weapons with us as we possibly can. Our aim is to defend the portal, not to destroy our enemy. We are a small army; only fraction of the size of our enemy. But it's the smallest iron key that can lock the biggest door. It's the smallest iron key that renders it incapable of moving. Stand strong and stand together we will render the Malignants powerless."
Archie's speech was followed by a moment of silent hesitation and then a respectful cheer from the Defenders. Rohland slapped Archie's back and smiled kindly at him. The Defenders, who were already heavily protected with modified armour, began loading up with weapons and Archie walked among his troops, stopping to motivate them one by one until it became time to depart.
The night was dark. Quiet. And Margie (loaded down with a great sack of arsenal) felt oddly peaceful. Not at all like she was marching towards a battle field.
"What are the Malignants?" she asked.
"They're creatures from the other side of the mountain. Trouble makers and demons. They want control of the portal and send their armies to attack the Defenders at least twice a year."
"What is a portal, Viljar?"
"The door. The link between our world and the living. If the Malignants got control of the door it would be a disaster. They would torture the living by getting inside their heads and messing them up."
"What do you mean?"
"They make them think bad thoughts and do bad things. Murders, suicide; stuff like that."
"How did the door get there?"
The young man shrugged. "I've no idea. It's just always been there. There are plenty of them all over Limbuss. Big ones and small ones. The smaller ones appear when the living use things like Ouija boards. They're fools. If only they knew what was waiting for them on the other side ..."
Margie had no idea what a door might look like. In her mind's eye she had visualised a great twirling black hole but the reality was quite different. The path they followed meandered through dense bushes until they finally reached a little paved area, like a garden. In the centre of the garden was a small stone grotto which housed an old wooden door.
"Is that it?" asked Margie. "That's what all the fuss is about?"
Viljar nodded.
The door looked like any door that would lead from one garden to another and Margie was quite entranced. Was it possible that she could leave this world and return to her own if she passed through that little wooden door?
"I wouldn't try it if I were you," boomed a voice. It was Archie. Margie stepped aside as he strode towards them. "You wouldn't survive it."
"I wasn't going to ..."
Archie interjected. "It doesn't matter, we don't have time. Both of you take the weapons over there then head back to camp immediately. Send one of the Luggers back up to Phagge's cave to escort The Giant back to camp. Then keep your heads down. Do you understand?"
Margie and Viljar nodded and scooped up their sacks but before they could follow Archie's instructions someone cried out: "Look up!"
Everyone looked up and there, swooping down over them was a solitary Malignant. Margie was instantly startled by its sheer size; at least ten feet long. And the speed at which it came. It was a winged, bony, almost skeletal humanoid with huge round eyes and sharp pointed teeth. It carried a spear, which when combined with a long, thick, heavily armoured tail, made the deformed creature look quite foreboding.
Everyone ducked and watched it disappear off into the distance with a terrible scream.
"Come with me," shouted Viljar. He grabbed Margie's arm and dragged her away from the portal into some dense undergrowth nearby. Here they were concealed from view, but were by no means safe. "Stay close," he instructed breathlessly, "it's not safe for us to return to the camp." Margie didn't argue.
"We don't have any weapons!" she whispered. "How are we supposed to fight?"
"We're not going to fight. We're going to stay here and keep quiet. The only thing you need to worry about is their saliva. If it hits you it will burn through your skin."
Viljar rolled back his sleeve to reveal an old wound; a large patch of rippled, melted flesh from a previous battle with the Malignants. "It can eat its way through concrete and cut through metal." His hands were shaking as he rolled his sleeve back down and for the next few minutes the two of them sat silently waiting for the next attack.
The night seemed quiet. Too quiet for Margie's liking. And for the first time since they'd arrived at Mons Morsus she began to feel uneasy. The air was thick with something terrible. Was it a smell? A feeling? She wasn't sure. But it made her want to scream at the Defenders to run.
At the same moment, a great dark mass rose up from the horizon. The Defenders quickly rose to their feet, silently observing the growing cloud, unable to believe their eyes. They had expected a couple of hundred Malignants at the very most. But here, on the horizon, surging ever closer were tens of thousands of them. Not even a glimmer of light could pierce the swarm as it moved through the sky towards the portal.
Archie realised instantly that the battle was over before it had even begun. There was no way they could defend themselves against such a vast army of Malignants with such limited manpower and weaponry. They were ordinary men doing the best they could in extraordinary circumstances. They weren't soldiers. They were sailors, teachers and thieves, each of them carrying the physical or mental burden of their earthly sins.
"To the rocks," screamed Archie. "To the rocks!"
Panic-stricken, the Defenders scattered in all directions, rushing to take cover where they could. Several made it to the portal where they would be safe from the Malignants' acid. Others simply dropped to the ground, hoping their body armour would offer some protection.
Archie found cover under a small mound of rocks and fought to load two grenadoes. He'd rehearsed the procedure with his armoured gloves a hundred times over, only now his hands were trembling and the precious explosive was spilling out everywhere. He cursed his useless hands as he wrestled to fill the two hollow balls of clay with the black powder. "If I destroy just one Malignant," he thought, "... just one!"
A short time later the grenadoes were loaded. There was little more Archie could do now other than to wait for the right moment in which to launch them. The Malignants were still quite high in the sky as the ground grew dark, and then, in one giant act of synchronicity they swooped down like a murmuration of starlings. Those on the ground that had not taken shelter were hit with a catastrophic shock wave that either pinned them to the ground barely able to breathe, or blasted them sideways in a storm of dust and debris. And then came the noise. The screams of tens of thousands of Malignants. A battle cry sound so loud and debilitating that it virtually paralyzed the Defenders.
As the men writhed in agony, their hands clawing desperately at their ears, a handful of Malignants lunged down thrashing their tails like medieval flails. The Defenders who
were caught out in the open stood little chance of protecting themselves against the ferocious onslaught and Margie, incapacitated by the noise, could do little to help from her hiding place.
For several minutes the Malignants pummelled the Defenders who writhed around on the floor like new born kittens. Blow followed blow as the flying beasts swooped and swung their deadly tails. The Defenders jerked this way and that in a futile effort to survive the assault.
Through the noise, Archie struggled to focus. It was hard. The screams ripped into his brain and shredded his thoughts. Oh, the noise. His head. The pain.
Then, through the fog, Archie saw one of the creatures land close to the portal. Like all the other Defenders, those guarding the door were also debilitated; unable to do anything more than try to squeeze the noise out of their tortured heads. The Malignant bent down and sniffed one of the men before spitting in his face. Already in a deep state of shock, the Defender's eyes remained glazed and unchanged, seemingly oblivious to the acid that was burning a hole in his cheek.
Without hesitation, Archie dived out from under his rock shelter. Instantly, the Malignants homed in on him like a swarm of angry wasps.
"Watch out!" screamed Margie, her voice drowned-out amid the cacophony of screeches.
Archie dived sideways as one of the Malignants swiped its tail at his head. He felt the air brush his cheek as it passed. He had only a second of two before it came back, but that's all he needed. Wasting no time, he sprinted towards the portal.
From the very beginning of the attack, a shower of acid had rained down on the Defenders. Drop after burning drop scorched their flesh as they tried to protect themselves. It was a blessing that as Archie reached the portal, the searing rain stopped. The Malignants were as vulnerable to the acid as anyone and, of course, there was no way the Malignants wanted to injure one of their own. Certainly not one that was so close to the portal.
The Malignant slowly turned to face Archie and emitted an ugly angry scream.
Archie's head felt like it was about to explode but he stood his ground, his mechanical hands primed and ready to attack. The Malignant rocked his long neck from side to side like a Cobra, intermittently spitting acid in Archie's direction.
In those few fleeting moments when Archie came face to face with the Malignant, he tried to take in as much information as he could about the creature. It was huge and terrifying, each tooth in its slime-filled jaws as long as his forearm. It had a huge scar snaking down its face. In that moment he realised that it was in fact one of the most feared of the Malignants - a warrior of warriors.
Archie primed himself ready to attack when a second Malignant crashed to the ground several feet away, a crossbow arrow through its neck. In the moments it took Archie to register what had happened, a second arrow sliced into the neck of the Malignant which stood before Archie.
The injured Malignant threw its head back momentarily in shock and Archie made his move. He didn't even question where the arrows had come from. He charged then dug his daggers deep into the Malignant's chest. The creature swayed momentarily before collapsing to the ground.
Archie swung round. He couldn't see where the crossbow arrows had come from. The only Defenders he could see were lying helplessly on the ground.
Almost instantaneously the noise and the darkness began to dissipate. The Malignants were retreating. Within minutes, the sky was clear, calm and empty. As if nothing had happened.
Shielded by the body of the Malignant, Archie sat with his back to the portal, wondering how it had all gone so wrong. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined such an onslaught. Even with an army of thousands of highly trained soldiers, he would not have been able to fight them off. He took a moment to gather his thoughts then surveyed the battle ground. It was littered with the badly injured bodies of his friends and comrades.
A shout brought him back into focus. It sounded like Rohland. Archie jumped up and raced towards the centre of the grotto bellowing Rohland's name.
Rohland, who was attending to one of the injured men, stood up and waved his raised arm. "Here," he yelled. "Come quickly."
Then in a startling flash of motion a huge Malignant swooped out of nowhere and snatched Archie up in his huge talons. Up and up it carried the screaming man until they were both almost out of sight. And then the Malignant released him.
From her hiding place, Margie could only watch in horror as he fell to the ground, landing with a sickening thud. There he lay motionless, his limbs reaching out at nauseating angles. The Malignant, still with a crossbow impaled in its neck, wasn't finished. It circled the injured man, screaming and flailing him until finally a second crossbow pierced its head. The Malignant managed to fly several yards before crashing to the ground in a lifeless heap.
Margie dropped the crossbow, her hands still shaking, then launched herself in Archie's direction. She was quickly joined by a handful of other Defenders who had cautiously emerged from their own hiding places. There was no sign of Rohland as Margie stroked Archie's face. Tears rolled down her face. The Malignants' attack was immensely unfair. They weren't even soldiers. That much was clear now, even to Margie. And what of his promise to help her? Once again Margie felt abandoned. It seemed that everyone she ever came into contact with in Limbuss was doomed to ruin.
Around Margie, the Defenders and Viljar quietly wandered round the battleground, checking for signs of life. With heavy hearts and lead boots, they removed weapons and items of clothing and placed them neatly in a pile close to Margie.
Only one question seemed to be on everyone's lips: why had the Malignant's turned back?
"Makes me nervous," said one of the Defenders, a medieval cobbler by the name of Bennett.
"They're like the Comanche Indians. Have you ever heard of them?" asked Viljar.
Margie shook her head.
"They were the most ferocious of all the Native American tribes. Very successful at what they did. If you were unlucky enough to be caught by them you would be tortured in the most horrible way."
"Men, women, children, babies. Skinned, sliced, diced, roasted, scalped!" chimed in Bennett, one eye on his wounded arm, the other on the sky overhead.
"What exactly has this got to do with the Malignants?" asked Margie.
"The Comanche Indians fought to the death," said Viljar. "And so do the Malignants. They would never turn back. They would never run from a battle. I can't put my finger on it, but something's not right. I have a bad feeling."
Margie had a bad feeling too but only because she knew the answer. She didn't know how, she just knew the Malignants were running away from something even more ferocious and even more terrifying than themselves. At that moment she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time; an icy breath on her back and a deep and wicked sigh. For the first time since her arrival in Limbuss Margie wondered exactly what it was that she was carrying within her? Just what kind of terrifying vision was it that would make an entire army of demonic warriors turn and run in the opposite direction?
She didn't have time to dwell on it because all of a sudden the Malignant which had lain dead just yards away lifted its head and emitted one final terrifying scream. Filled with rage and frustration, Margie grabbed one of the swords from the 'death' pile and lifted it above her head. Before she could bring it down on the Malignant's neck, someone grabbed her arm. It was Rohland. He studied her face silently, thoughtfully then slowly, gently let her arm go.
The sword came down quickly, severing the Malignant's head.
It was a good omen. As the Malignant's body fell still, Archie's shattered body jerked to life. Margie hurriedly thrust the sword into the Malignant's neck effectively pinning it to the ground, then raced to Archie's side. He was attempting to sit up but as soon as he saw Margie he turned away.
"Here, let me help you," cried Margie.
"Go away!" replied Archie, barely even casting a sideways glance in her direction.
Margie understood immediately. "You shouldn't feel ba
d about what happened. It wasn't your fault. There was no way you could have fought off that many Malignants."
"Go away," he spat. "Help the others. Make yourself useful."
Margie brushed the sand off her hands pensively then rubbed the back of her neck. Did he really mean that? She stood up and looked around. Had anyone else heard that?
Nearby, Rohland was tightening a strap on one of his boots. He motioned with a flick of his head for Margie to join him.
"Leave him for a while," he said. "He'll come round."
Margie liked Rohland. There was something about his tattoos - or was it his hair? - that reminded her of something; a memory that she couldn't quite grasp.
"I underestimated you," said Rohland standing up. He put his arm around Margie's shoulder and guided her away from Archie. "You probably saved him back there."
"Only probably?"
Rohland laughed. "You're a great shot. Where did you learn to do that?"
Margie shook her head. "Who knows."
"Well, it was impressive anyway."
Margie studied Rohland's hands. "You don't carry a physical punishment." It was more of a question than a statement.
Rohland shook his head. "I used to. A long time ago."
Before Margie could probe any further, a shadow figure caught her eye. Disappearing behind a tree it was there one moment, gone the next. Margie shivered. She'd seen such shadow figures before.
"Have you ever been reassigned?" she whispered to Rohland looking over her shoulder.
"Quite a few times," he replied, looking over her shoulder too.
"Really?"
"Not so much now. I prefer the easy life these days!"
Margie recalled the Shadow Herders she had seen near Grandma Doyle's caravan with their menacing cloaks and shadowy faces. She had been terrified at the way they dragged people off into the darkness never to be seen again. She looked back at the spot where she had seen the shadow but something even more startling caught her eye. For a second or two, Margie couldn't grasp what she was seeing. The Giant, completely healed, was towering over Archie; a pike from the battle pressed firmly into Archie's throat.
