"Don't hit Levine," yelled out General Delgado. "And get some damned priests up here."
Levine smiled at the contradictory words of the general, despite having to hold on for dear life to his sword. He couldn't pull it out, and if he dropped to the ground he would be giving up one of the few weapons that seemed to be able to hurt the thing. Nonetheless, the profanity of the general was still funny, calling for holy men as damned.
The demon jumped into the air, turning over and flapping furiously. Levine felt the blade start to slip out, and then slide completely from the creature's body, dropping him to the ground. Levine twisted in the air, trying to land on his feet, and failing, his posterior making first contact, then his back. He grunted at the shock, his eyes closing for a moment, opening in time to see the taloned feet coming down on him.
Levine went into overdrive, rolling out of the way and onto his feet, then stepping back in to shove the point of his sword through the calf of the monster. The demon kicked at him, connecting and knocking him into the air to fly against one of the walls. Levine felt something snap in his back, and was positive that some of his ribs had broken. He bit his tongue and felt the coming confusion of a concussion. A normal man would have died from the impact. Hell, even an abnormally strong one would be looking at paralysis and eventual death. He landed on the ground and could already start to feel his legs, a sign that his spine was knitting, along with the bone that protected it. The first few breaths hurt like hell with the broken ribs, but even that pain quickly subsided, and he was back on his feet. His sword was nowhere to be found, but he soon spotted it still in the calf of the demon, which was limping toward the gun emplacement again.
A trio of guns spoke, their firing muted when compared to weapons that had used the gunpowder that no longer worked on this world. Two hit the creature in the chest, bouncing away, while one, with much greater momentum, propelled by the winds of the weather mage, actually punctured the skin before falling away.
Priests were now chanting their prayers, and the demon reached its hands up to its head, obviously in some pain as the holy power washed over it. It shook its great head, glaring at all around it, and then spitting a gout of fire at the priests, setting one on fire before a strong wind arose which blew the flame away from its targets. It turned and stepped back toward the weather mage, who looked back with an expression of terror on her face. That was just before she raised her hands into the air and moved them in a twisting motion.
The wind picked up, the clouds overhead rushed together, and a funnel dropped from the sky, questing for the ground.
"By the Gods, no," yelled Levine, getting up and running for the demon. He knew the girl felt threatened, and was pulling out her last card to stop the monster. However, what she was attempting to control might be as bad or worse than the monster, and there was no way to stop it without harming her. He saw James reach out and grab one of her arms, which she immediately shook off. She said something to the other mage, Levine couldn't hear what despite his enhanced hearing with the freight train sound of a tornado roaring through the air.
The demon looked up, and recoiled as it saw what was coming for it. It flapped its wings furiously, trying to get out of the courtyard before the suction got it. It almost made it when the questing opening of the funnel cloud grabbed it out of the air and pulled it in. Then funnel cloud then moved upward, the figure of the demon trapped within. They could see the swirling red of the creature, a leg visible here, a wing there, one of the horns for a moment.
It looked like she had finished the demon when it was flung out of the cloud, one wing flapping, the other limp and obviously broken. The creature was at some height, and fell to the ground outside of the fort. Levine could see his sword still sticking out of its calf, and he ran for the gate, determined to get his weapon back and kill the monster.
The men outside were already busy attacking the thing, sending spears and arrows into it to bounce off its skin. The crippled wing still hung useless on its left side, while the right thigh bent at an unnatural angle, broken. It wasn't helpless, snatching up a pikeman who had gotten too close and tried to ram his weapon into it. With a twist of its hands it pulled the soldier in two, then shot a gout of flame from its mouth to torch the rest of the pike squad.
There it is, thought Levine as he ran toward the monster, coming in from behind and grabbing his sword, then pulling it from the calf and swinging it with all of his strength into the back of the muscle. The enchanted blade, propelled by the strength of the eldest immortal, cut deeply into the muscle, doing even more damage as he pulled it through in a draw cut. The creature roared its pain, then stumbled into a turn, its injured legs barely able to support its weight. Levine thrust upwards, the point of the blade pushing into the uninjured thigh. He moved before the reaching hand could get to him, and he swung down and into the wrist.
* * *
The demon cried out in frustration. Everything it had tried had failed. It had killed a few people, taken their souls, except for the couple that had actually caused it pain when they entered it briefly before flying away. Its attacked had been thwarted, and it had been hurt. Things were not getting easier as it battled this small creature that was so much faster and stronger than the others were. Still, there was no quit in it. If it died on this field its soul would go back to the realm of the death gods, and it would eventually, be capable of returning to this world if called many years in the future. If it could just crush this one gnat it would be satisfied. But when it swung again, the creature was not there. Unfortunately, its blade was, and it again pricked it, this time in the left forearm.
The demon was weakening. It was still a mighty creature, but it was now operating at less than half its original strength. It swung again, a blow that would take the head off any puny mortal it struck. This time it hit, the edge of the blade the man thrust upward, cutting deep into the wrist and severing the tendons, crippling the member. It brought up more fire, spitting it at the man, only to see the flames dissipate as they hit the human. It knew it was dealing with something more than human, more than just strong and fast, and it was determined to take it with him before it fled this veil.
* * *
Levine realized that he had hurt the creature greatly, but it was still dangerous. It could definitely kill him, despite his ability to heal. If it ripped his head from his body or stopped his heart, he would be gone. He needed to finish it now.
The second paw came swinging in, and he punched his sword point through it. The demon roared and lifted the hand, grabbing the blade and flinging the immortal into the air. Levine clamped down on the hilt, holding on for dear life, swinging himself in to strike the creature in the face with his boots. It was only a stinging strike, one that wouldn't really harm the creature, but the only thing he could think of doing at the moment. To his surprise the feet went out from under the demon, the injured legs giving out, and it fell backwards. Levine landed on its chest, blade in hand, thinking of the best way to kill the thing. He dismissed a thrust to the chest immediately, since the throat offered such a better target. With thought came action, and he leapt forward, the blade swinging for the area below the chin of the creature, which was in the process of thrusting a hand out to help it back to its feet. Too late, and the blade sliced through the flesh and into the windpipe below. Frothy black blood flooded the mouth of the demon, while its one usable hand went to the throat. Levine ducked the other hand, still flopping on the end of its limb, and thrust his blade into the creature's right eye. Then leaning his weight to push the sword deeper, he went for the brain.
Black ichor exploded from the eye, some of it splatting onto the hands of the immortal and burning into the skin. Ignoring the pain he forced the sword deeper, until the demon contracted in agony, and he was flung off the huge body to land on the ground without his sword. He was on his feet in an instant, feeling nauseous from the demon's blood, but sure he would survive. But if the monster came for him he was not so sure he would handle
it without his sword.
The demon was flat on its back, unmoving, liquid flowing from its body as it started to dissolve. Hundreds of people stood around slack jawed, staring at the dead monster as it first liquefied, then gasified until nothing was left, leaving only the enchanted sword and the outline of the demon on the now dead grass. Levine walked over, stared at the outline, and picked up his sword. They still had a tower to take before the bridge was open. Still, he took the time to stop and talk with the young mages who stood conversing as they looked at the remains of the demon.
"Good job, young lady," said Levine to Heidle. "You are gaining control."
The young woman still looked visibly shaken, though she had a smile on her face from the compliment.
"I told her to have faith in herself," said Drake, his arm over Katherine's shoulder.
"Well, I'm glad you risked calling down the tornado," said Levine, touching the side of her face with his hand. "Now, we still have a battle to fight."
As soon as he was back inside the fort he knew there was no reason to worry. The blast of demon's fire that Drake had shot within had killed many of the defenders, and had taken the fight out of the others. Men were dragging the fallen valve out of the way, while others pushed the still hot member hanging from its hinges back with their spears, where it could be held in place by cannonballs carried forward.
The men were cheering the victory, or maybe just being alive. Levine shook his head, but couldn't keep from smiling as well. It was cause to celebrate, but there were still many fights ahead before this war was over.
Chapter Twelve
Delgado sat his horse and watched as the first organized unit of heavy cavalry crossed the bridge, returning the salute of their company commander and the standard-bearer. The general had never been a horseman. He still didn't like riding, though he was getting more comfortable on them, since he really had no choice. Jeeps and armored vehicles were a thing of the past, and he doubted he would ever see their like again. So it was a sore ass from sitting a horse like a leader, or riding in a wagon. Given that it was his image he had to maintain, he sat the damn horse with his staff around him.
The infantry that had taken the forts was already through and holding the ground, while light cavalry squadrons fanned out over the countryside scouting the way They screened the army from enemy cavalry determined to scout them. The general had gotten across as fast as he could, but hadn’t been able to beat those people.
The first unit through when he had gotten into place was heavy cavalry, men that would ride forward and sweep away any enemy they could handle, or wait for the infantry if they were ensconced behind fortifications. Many different faces looked out from the almost two hundred horsemen that rode in a column of twos. European faces, African-American faces, even a few Asian faces, mixed in with the visages of native-born humans of varying colors and a few elves. Most of the Earth humans had been armor and armored cavalry trooper before coming to Refuge. Now they wore the armor of the cavalrymen, and rode horses. Delgado wondered if any of those men hated riding as much as he did. Probably some, but it still beat walking.
The next troop was preceded by the regimental command staff, a straight-faced African-American colonel in the lead. The general could tell that the man was hardly able to contain himself, a born cavalryman who had only transitioned to horses after leading an armored cav unit on arrival.
"Your men ready, McGurk?" yelled out Delgado while he saluted the banner.
"We are, sir," yelled back the young officer. "About time you gave us something to do."
The last two companies of the squadron followed, trailed by the next squadron, and the next, until the entire regiment was across and moving down the road, with some troops of each squadron fanning out to provide flank cover. That regiment would lead the march, smashing through anything on the road that had been set up to stop them.
A regiment of light cavalry followed. Then another regiment of heavy cavalry like that led by McGurk, what would have been called knights or men-at-arms on medieval Earth.
Then the first of the fresh infantry came through the fortress gate and stepped down the road. This was the second legion, the one that had not taken part in the assault on the bridge, and so one of the best rested of the army. It was a battalion of heavy infantry, followed by another, then the skirmishers, followed by the archers. The second brigade marched through, and then a long line of wagons, the equipment and rations for the division.
"This is getting tiresome," said Levine, sitting to the side of Delgado. "It's all well and good to see how mighty our army is, but why can't we do it when the sun's down."
Delgado looked over at the immortal and laughed. He knew the big man had seen more armies marching than he ever had or would, and had fought hard this day.
"You have my permission to leave, General," he told the man. The other immortals had already excused themselves from the parade, and he hadn't felt like trying to force them to attend. His position, as far as they were concerned, was as temporary commander, since they were prophesied to become the rulers of the free peoples of this land. Hell, Levine was over two thousand years old if he was to be believed, and Delgado had no reason to doubt him after seeing what he could do. The Polish woman was almost three hundred, and even the German had lived well over a century.
The French and the Dark Elves hadn’t waited either. They had gone back into the forest with their owls, and the sounds of music and revelry were coming out. They weren’t under his command either, but he had been damned glad to have them. Without their initial attack and sacrifice this side of the bridge wouldn’t have fallen.
Levine nodded and turned his horse, moving it away at a walk, and then spurring it into a gallop, to head for the quarters the immortals had established on this side of the bridge, near the French. The general wished he could follow, but his troops expected him to sit here and watch every damn one of them march by. And so he would, sore ass or not.
The last of the second division finished coming across, followed by the first of the third division, the one mostly made up of newly trained people, many of them natives of Refuge. When the last of them passed it meant that half the army was over. He had spent over an hour and a half sitting his horse, which meant he had at least that much time to go.
* * *
"I want your priests to figure out how to deal with these things. I want a plan, and I want it yesterday."
The senior priests of the kingdom bowed their heads. Most of them were natives, elves and dwarves, the prelates of the two so-called good pantheons, Life and Law. Two were the most exalted members of their faiths, the others high up the ladder if not the pinnacle.
"We had forgotten about the powers of that evil bastard," growled a squat dwarf with the weathered face of a warrior. "It is our fault, entirely."
"And my people died because you didn't recall that an evil bastard might use evil magic," growled the general who was the leader of the alliance. "Who would have thought that a man that has death priests serving him might call upon death magic. Fucking demons. We're just lucky we had those damned crazy mages there."
"You're lucky the king was there as well," said an Ellala priest of Arathonia, the queen of the life gods.
Taylor growled deep in his throat as he shot a glare at the elf. He still didn't like the immortals, since they represented ideals that his own country had rejected, those of hereditary ruler-ship. However, the people here seemed to be comfortable with it, and it seemed he was fighting a losing battle to instill democratic ideals into their hearts and minds.
"There were priests there, General Taylor," said the dwarven warrior/priest. "They did aid in the destruction of the monsters."
"Not enough," yelled Taylor, slamming a fist down on his desk. "If they can call down creatures so powerful, why can't you? Are your Gods that weak?"
The priests all recoiled from the general, their faces reflecting their horror. That was fine with Taylor, who as a practicing Methodist wa
s immune to the power of their gods, good and bad. He had made the decision soon after coming to this world. Sure, he gave up the advantages of quick healing, but he didn't have to worry about his soul ending up in some dank hell because of a chance encounter. So let them be mad with him all they wanted.
"We can call down powerful beings, as powerful as the demons of the enemy," said the Ellale priest. "For a price."
"You do want to defeat this evil bastard of an Emperor, don't you? Is that worth the price?"
He could see some doubt on the faces of the priests. Knowing a price and paying it were two different things altogether.
"It's worth the price," said the dwarven warpriest, nodding his head and looking around at the other clerics, who were also nodding. "Not that I want to meet my god anytime soon, though it will eventually happen. But it takes preparation to be ready to call something that powerful. It can't exist on our plane for long."
"Then get your people prepared. Every one that has the ability to call these things? What do you call them?"
"Angels," said the Ellala in a quiet voice. "Or at least that's what you might call them. Or daemons."
The last word took the general back for a moment. It sounded too close to demon, and it took him a moment of memory searching to recall that is meant a force of nature, and not something from the infernal regions.
"Get your asses ready to call these angels then. r daemons. Or whatever you call them in your languages. But the next time they hit us with these things I want something in the air that can handle them. Understood?"
There were some stares, some humanlike nods, and yeses in several languages. And some head shaking from priests who didn't agree. There was really nothing he could to people that were not actually in the military. He had some control over those who were assigned to military units, but not as much as he would wish.
Refuge: Book 5: Angels & Demons Page 14
