World of Darkness - [Time of Judgment 02] - The Last Battle

by Bill Bridges (epub)

  Albrecht frowned. “What does that mean? I don’t get it. I saw the moon just fine earlier. ”

  “But none of us could see it from the Umbra. I searched the skies but I saw no lights, no stars. Only darkness. ”

  Albrecht looked up at the sky, but the faint trace of the coming dawn blocked the light of the stars, had there been any.

  A Garou broke through the ranks of defenders, rushing from outside the valley. “My lord! A pack approaches, numbering five! ”

  “Who are they? ” Albrecht said.

  “We cannot tell from this distance. ”

  John North Wind’s Son shivered and his hair seemed to move in a nonexistent breeze. “They are... the Sept of the Stars. From the Aetherial Realm. ”

  “Tins can’t be coincidence, ” Albrecht said. “These guys never leave their perch. Was that your father just now, whispering to you? How’d he get into the valley, past its wards? ” “He is outside, bellowing at me, ” John said. “Anyone in the Penumbra can surely hear him. ”

  “But you’re not in the Penumbra, ” Albrecht said, looking oddly yet approvingly at John North Wind’s Son.

  “I am his son, ” John said.

  “All right, ” Albrecht said, turning to his warriors. "I want these guys checked for Wyrm taint, and I want a halfmoon to make sure they’re not lying. If they check out, let them in. ”

  The scout ran back outside to convey the message. He returned a little while later. “There is no Wyrm taint on them and Dark Runner says they do not lie. ”

  Eric Honnunger came down the passage, escorting the Sept of the Stars. Albrecht recognized Altair. The elder walked with a staff, more of an affectation or a fetish than a walking aid, for he was in perfect physical shape. The Stargazer elder could probably win out over a number of the warriors gathered here. He bowed before Albrecht, as did his followers.

  “Greetings, King Albrecht, " Altair said. "We have come to aid the last battle. ”

  “We could sure use you, ” Albrecht said, offering the elder his hand. Altair took it gladly. “Last battle, huh? Is that written in the stars? ”

  “The stars have fallen, ” Altair said, releasing the king’s hand. “The sky crumbles. Even the moon has gone into hiding. The Wyrm marches. ”

  Albrecht frowned. “Fallen? As in gone for good? And what do you mean ‘the Wyrm marches’? Not the Wyrm itself? "

  Altair nodded. “The raw force of destruction, one of three primal forces, has been unleashed. Instead of restoring balance, it tears down everything in its path, leaving nothing to renew. It marches at the behest of its children. Their twisted worship warps its mission. ”

  Albrecht said nothing for a while, staring at the sky. “You said the moon was in hiding. You mean Luna, right? If so, why’d I see her earlier? ”

  “Her material reflection still shines. Only her spiritual shadow is occulted. The Wyrm sought to devour her, but she sloughed her skin, leaving it nothing to grasp. "

  Albrecht smiled. “Good old Luna. As long as the moon shines in this world, we've got a chance. "

  • • •

  On the following evening, as the sun sank low, the Garou took their places, waiting. The wind outside the valley wove through the trees, creating a low roar as branches swayed, but the interior of the valley was still; the walls blocked the worst of the wind's knives.

  Two Wendigo shamans hid among the trees in the Umbra, watching for any sign of approaching spirits. The wind spirits flowed around them, John’s father among them, bringing gossip from far realms, tales of tom and shattered places from which spirits fled.

  Across the snowy tundra, a lone spirit came, flying on broken wings. The crow fluttered to the ground beneath a tree, cawing a desperate message. The shamans looked at one another and then stepped through the Gauntlet, into the material world. They ran for the passageway, howling.

  As their howls reached the scouts on the peaks, different throats repeated them, yelling them into the valley. The camp below stirred. Every Garou listened to the howls and looked at one another, their jaws set and weapons ready.

  The enemy approached.

  The dragon thundered through the pitch black Umbral sky. The broken paths and realms below lay in darkness; the Moon hid her silver light. The dragon thudded to the ground, its claws gripping into the ephemeral dirt of the Penumbra, the spiritual reflection of the material world. It opened its jaw and bit into the air, tearing a chunk of invisible threads from the fabric of the Gauntlet.

  It poked its snout through the hole and sucked in its breath, drawing the Gauntlet into its maw. Like a sheet crumpled into a ball, the Gauntlet peeled away, sliding into the dragon’s endless stomach.

  A terrible rending sound echoed through the Penumbra and the material world as the wall between the two realities collapsed. The ground began to shake as the two worlds merged, matter and spirit colliding like tectonic plates.

  Spirits materialized all over the planet, their ephemera transforming into flesh and blood, their subtle forms drawn into dense matter by the physical world’s immense gravity. The realms of the Spirit Wilds manifested in forests, fields, streams and in cities. Ancient spirit oaks thrust up from concrete, towering past skyscrapers. Rivers rerouted themselves as their sentient spirits gained sway. The cities, bereft of Pattern Spider spirit protectors, crumbled. People ran riot throughout the streets, chased by mythological beasts made real.

  The forces of the Wyld ran amok, freed from the limits of the Weaver’s webs and the wall of the Gauntlet. They began to enact ancient vendettas against humans, hunting and killing them. Chaos reigned.

  Then the dragon finished its meal and stepped forward, stamping its foot onto the earth. It slid forward, fully entering the material world onto the vast plain outside King Albrecht’s valley holdout. The tundra shook. The snow exploded into steam.

  Drawn there by an urge even it didn’t understand, it raised its head and vomited a black, oily ball of muck. The thing unraveled as it rolled, spooling off banes and monsters. The creatures rose, dripping with the Wyrm’s slime, casting about for prey.

  The last being to rise from the muck roared in exultant victory. Her massive battle form was taller and broader than before, her fur matted with the Wyrm’s slick digestive juices. She raised her hand and unraveled a barbed whip, bringing it down with a terrible crack that split the air like thunder.

  Zhyzhak’s minions, the army of Malfeas, turned to watch her, waiting for orders.

  Zhyzhak sauntered past the Maeljin Incarna, horrendously malformed beings whose eyes watched her, tinged with hate and fear. They once ruled in Malfeas; now they begged at her feet.

  She walked past them, staring at the forest ahead, growling. “What’s going on? ” she cried. “Why did we stop here? Where’s Albrecht? ”

  A mewling, whining Maeljin, crouching by her leg, spoke. ‘The Wyrm cannot penetrate the Gauntlet around the valley. ”

  Zhyzhak backhanded him, sending him tumbling through the blasted rocks, now bare of snow. “DuBois, you bastard! Don’t lie tome! ”

  Another Maeljin approached, although she kept out of arm’s reach. “For once, DuBois speaks truth, Zhyzhak. ” Zhyzhak s eyes narrowed. “Aliara! If this is a trick! ”

  A new Maeljin—the short and pudgy Doge Klypse— stepped forward. “No trick! The Wyrm has been halted in its tracks. ”

  Zhyzhak glared at Klypse. She stared up at the dragon, which sat unmoving, its eyes closed. She could sense a boiling, frantic energy in it, but it felt trapped, confined by some unknown force.

  Zhyzhak screamed and snapped her whip. The barbed tail instantly severed the heads of three banes. Zhyzhak smiled at the comical look on their faces as they died. She turned to face the valley, snarling. “Albrecht! This won’t stop me! ”

  She marched forward, cracking her whip in the air. “Come on! We’ll charge in ourselves! ”

  A tall, thin Maeljin refused to move. He yelled at her. “We cannot enter! The Gauntlet is torn everywhere but the
re—that is why the Wyrm cannot move forward. We have no power to traverse it. Only those spirits and creatures who already possess material bodies can pass through. ” Zhyzhak screamed and spun around, bolting at the Maeljin. She landed on his chest, knocking him to the hard ground. Her jaw slavered inches from his nose. “Thurifuge! You lazy bastard! You will do as I say! ”

  Thurifuge, his eyes half-lidded, seemed unconcerned about the proximity of her snout. "I have no choice, thanks to your usurpation. You are the teacher’s pet for now, Zhyzhak. But even you can't undo the power of that valley from outside. ”

  Zhyzhak growled, drawing back her claws. “We undid the Weaver’s web! There should be no more Gauntlet! ”

  Doge Klypse stepped forward again. “Clearly, something else is powering this wall! Perhaps it is... " he shuddered in disgust, “... the Earth Mother herself. ”

  Zhyzhak stood still, thinking. She looked at the valley. Her snarl slowly became a grin. She barked a series of terrifying laughs and crawled off Lord Thurifuge. “Then I will tear it down from within! Once it’s down, you follow! ” She roared to the assembled creatures and marched off toward the valley. A number of banes, monsters and Black Spiral Dancers fell in behind her, but more of them stayed behind, watching her go. They turned to watch the Maeljin.

  The former Lords of Malfeas gathered together, watching Zhyzhak storm her way toward the forest.

  "I almost wish she would fail, " Thurifuge said, sneering at her rapidly departing figure.

  “Then you’re a fool, ” Aliara said. “Victory is almost in our hands, but it depends on her. ”

  "I don’t believe your theory, " DuBois said, still rubbing his injured jaw. “If she falls, we will rule again. ”

  Aliara looked at her co-conspirators. “Your raw desire blinds you. ” She looked back at Zhyzhak and her army. Even reduced in size, it still consisted of nearly five hundred creatures. She didn’t know how many Garou huddled in the quaint valley, but she doubted they had near that many defenders. She smiled. The object of her own desire would soon be within reach: the entire universe reduced to rotting feces shat forth from the Wyrm’s filthy anus.

  • • •

  “Hold positions, goddamn it! ” Albrecht yelled. He pointed his klaive up at the Garou archers who tried to scramble down the valley walls, abandoning their posts. They froze at the sound of his growls, afraid to continue down but also afraid to return.

  “I don’t care what you see! ” Albrecht said, sheathing his klaive and grasping a handhold on the cliff face. He pulled himself up, reaching for more handholds, scaling the sheer wall. The deserters scrambled back up the wall as he climbed higher.

  Albrecht gritted his teeth and kept pulling himself up. It wasn’t an easy climb, although it was better from inside the valley than outside, where the wall was even steeper and more sheer. He finally reached the lip and tugged himself over. Garou archers—those who had not attempted to desert their posts—grabbed his arms and helped lift him up.

  He stood on the rocky path that followed the topmost lip and stared out across the tundra, at the sight that had spread fear among the ranks. He felt a lurch in his stomach.

  A vast serpent sat on the plain, coiled around itself like a mountain. Just looking upon it wrenched his guts and sent an instinctual signal to his brain, screaming for him to run. He growled to hide the chill, turning the growing frenzy into resolve. Aurak was right; it was easier to control his rage now than it had been before. He still had to fight against the panicked urge to run, but he didn’t feel the same uncontrollable anger that he often used to counteract fear.

  Tiny figures approached en masse, a horde of creatures running for the valley, screaming and yelling. Leading them was a large Garou. Zhyzhak.

  He turned away from the dragon and looked into the eyes of the archers. They met his gaze, searching for some sign of assurance, some excuse not to throw down their weapons and flee.

  He growled and stepped forward, placing his hand on one archer’s bow, then raising it and pointing it toward the onrushing army. He spoke in a steely voice. “See those bastards out there? Shoot them. ”

  The archer blinked and nodded, shaking off his unreasoning fear. He snarled and pointed his bow at Zhyzhak. He raised it higher to adjust for the distance and released the string. The arrow shot into the sky, arcing high and descending again, hurtling toward the distant Garou. It thunked into the ground inches from her feet, causing her to veer from her course.

  Zhyzhak looked up at the cliff and howled, snapping her whip wildly before rushing onward again.

  “Seer Albrecht said. “It’s that easy. Next time, hit her. ”

  The archers roared and raised their bows, hurling arrows into the massed army. The barbs struck a number of the enemy forces, knocking them down. Those behind the fallen did not bother to veer aside; they rushed on, trampling and killing those the arrows had already wounded.

  The archers cheered and nocked new arrows, drawing them back and releasing them simultaneously. The swarm of bane arrows dug into more flesh, wounding and killing scores of creatures.

  Zhyzhak entered the trees, protected from the arrows.

  “Keep firing at the army, ” Albrecht said. “Take out as many as you can. " He stepped to the edge and looked down into the passage. “You, ” he said, grabbing the arm of an archer. “Get ten guys to watch the passage. As soon as you can see them, fire away. I don’t want a single creature to reach the front lines without at least one arrow in it. ”

  Albrecht ran back to the place he had climbed and began to lower himself down, hurriedly grabbing handholds and feeling for footholds.

  A voice at his shoulder startled him. “Let me take you down, ” Painted Claw said. He floated in the air, riding a vortex of icy wind, using a rare Wendigo power.

  Albrecht smiled and let the Ahroun wrap his arms around his shoulders, lifting him off the wall. He descended rapidly and Painted Claw released him just above the ground. He landed on both feet and waved at the Wendigo.

  Painted Claw rose up again, heading up to join the archers. Albrecht knew he would be back to aid the front lines as soon as the enemy arrived.

  Albrecht headed for the command center, the place where the Theurges positioned themselves. Mari and Evan waited there for him.

  “Mari! ” he yelled. “They’re coming. We need to be up front. ”

  Mari nodded and put her hand on Evan’s shoulder, squeezing it tight.

  Evan had a frustrated, pained expression on his face. “Let me go up there with you, Albrecht. ”

  Albrecht shook his head. “You stay here, with Aurak. The shamans need a line of defense. ”

  “He’s right, ” Mari said, releasing his shoulder. “You can do more from here. "

  Evan gritted his teeth. “But I won’t be with you. ” Albrecht gripped Evan’s arm and released it. “You will. Just not physically. ”

  “It’s not the same, ” Evan said.

  “Hey, somebody’s got to protect our backs. That’s what your bow is for. "

  Evan nodded and punched Albrecht’s arm. “If you say so. ” He looked at Mari and smiled, but his eyes were clearly sad.

  “This isn’t the end, Evan, ” Mari said. “We'll make it through this. ”

  Albrecht stepped away, signaling Mari with a nod that they had to go. She met Evan’s eyes one last time and turned away, jogging with Albrecht toward the front lines.

  As they ran, a slender, lean Crinos form joined them. “Mephi, ” Albrecht said, “you ready to play herald again P’

  “Absolutely, ” Mephi said. "Just tell me a message and point out who needs to get it and I’m there. ”

  “Your speed’s going to come in handy, " Albrecht said. “Glad you’re with us. ”

  They approached the rear line of warriors amassed by the passage. The warriors moved aside to admit the king and his entourage. Albrecht’s place was in the fourth line, where he could bark out orders and coordinate the fighting, but also close enough where
he could jump into the fray himself as needed. Mari took up a fighting position beside him, while Mephi stayed behind, ready to convey orders to any place in camp at Albrecht’s command.

  A snarling growl broke out in the front line, followed by howl of challenge. A screeching roar responded within the passage and the first line of Wyrm creatures hit the first line of Gaian defenders.

  Albrecht howled a call to battle and the Garou tore into the malformed creatures. The first wave fell within moments, tom apart by the expert claws of the frontline Garou, each a high-ranking warrior. A howl of triumph went up, followed by a cheer from those within the valley.

  The second wave pounded down the passage, their bodies riddled with arrows from above, snarling and screaming for blood.

  • • •

  Evan watched the battle from a distance, his bow ready with an arrow nocked in case he needed to use it. Aurak stood by his side, lightly pounding a drum. The fetish held a great war spirit from the Battleground realm, ready to manifest as soon as Aurak pounded the proper series of beats.

  Behind them, Martin paced, his claws opening and closing, itching to fight. Most of the shamans intently watched the battle or prepared to release spirits bound into fetishes or talens. Some watched the tops of the walls or the rear of the valley, scanning for trouble from other directions.

  Martin shifted to dire wolf form and bolted forward, faster than the Theurges could react. He shot past Evan and ran toward the front lines.

  “No! ” Evan yelled. “Get back here! You’re not ready! ”

  Martin either didn’t hear or refused to listen. He ran into the crowded fifth line and was lost to sight in the fray. • • •

  Zhyzhak rushed down the passage, arrows bouncing off her fur. The oily residue from the Wyrm’s stomach provided a near-frictionless surface. The arrows couldn’t find purchase.

  She burst into the rear ranks of her army, shoving aside scrags and skull pigs, pushing to reach the front. As soon as the army realized she was there, they let out an exultant cheer and moved aside for her.