The dwarf roared out his rage, banishing all fear, swinging the hammer in to crush the side of one vampire, pushing the one next to it into the wall with a smack. Now the vampires were backing up in fear. They were creatures that had been promised eternal existence by the God of Death, Bothar, and now they were seeing their doom coming for them. And their depraved souls were destined to burn in the deepest hell for over a thousand years before rebirth as a mortal.
Suddenly, shadow overwhelmed the light, not dropping the tunnel into pitch darkness, but weakening the divine light to the point where the vampires were again able to push forward. A priest cried out as a taloned hand grabbed him by the throat. Shout turned to gurgle as the beast ripped out the throat of the woman.
The shadow moved forward, blotting out several of the priests, their screams coming from the darkness as the vampires moved in and ended their lives. Garios felt a moment of panic himself as the shadow moved toward him, but his God was with him, and he was no ordinary priest, but rather the personal Warpriest of the Kingdom Under the Mountain. He said a quick prayer, and light again burst forth from his hammer, banishing the shadows within ten meters of where he stood, washing over the heart of the shadow and revealing what had been hidden.
A beautifully evil woman stood revealed, a cruel smile on her face showing the sharp fangs in her mouth. No ordinary vampire, she was arrayed in armor of pure night, a sword dripping shadows as black as night in the lower hells. The Queen of the Vampires, almost a gGoddess herself, and the most powerful undead creature on the planet.
"Are you ready to die, Priest?"
"No," said Garios, a tight smile on his face. All fear was gone. This was his defining battle, the one that would set his name in the annals of his people for all time. "Are you?"
* * *
"When the hell are those Dwarves going to break through?" yelled out General Delgado. The cannon were all firing at their fastest rate. Archers were sending waves of arrows up at the walls. The Ellala on the walls were returning fire, and since they held the high ground, their shafts were outranging those of the attackers. Conyastoya and Ellala on the side of the alliance were falling by the scores each minute.
"We could send some of the immortals down to see what's going on," said Kurt, eliciting a laugh from the human general.
"All of you over-tall people will knock yourselves out on the ceilings of those tunnels."
"I'll go," said Jackie. The caramel-skinned immortal was tall for a woman, but was still just under six feet. Gregor Babich stood next to her, and she was a few inches over his squat height. His consort, Izabella Kozlowski, was the smallest of the powerful beings.
"You three get down there then," Kurt ordered, being the acknowledged leader of the group. "Myself, Ismael and Paul will handle whatever they throw at us up here."
Jackie looked at the other two, who nodded to her. Izabella would actually lead down there, being the eldest. But Jackie was the best warrior of the trio, and so had some authority with them. The trio ran off, heading for the entrance to the mines.
The assault teams were ready. Companies of heavy infantry made up of believers in the Earth Gods, wearing the best armor they could find. They would go through the gates once the dwarves pushed them open, and hold them until an entire regiment was through. After that it would become a house-to-house fight through the city. Not anyone's favorite form of warfare.
"What's that bastard doing up there?" asked Delgado, looking through his binoculars at the top of one of the towers.
Kurt focused on where he was looking. His own eyes zoomed in on an even greater focus than the field glasses. He had seen that Ellala before, he remembered the slimy look of the fellow. He seemed to radiate pure evil. He stood there looking down, his lips moving, saying something. A Dark Elf woman was dragged to him. He grabbed her hair, pulled her head back, and sliced through her throat with an easy motion. He flung the body over the side of the tower to fall and splat on the ground below. Another woman, this one an Earth human, was dragged to him and he repeated the process. He followed with an Ellala, while a line of sacrifices formed from his position to the stairs.
"He's calling something up," yelled Kurt, looking over at the archers. "Take that bastard out."
Several of the stronger archers sent shafts toward the tower, only to see them stop in the air and fall to the ground. A dark cloud started to form in the air, and the hackles on the back of the German Immortal's neck began to rise as he felt the power build in the air. It was an evil power that the evil Emperor was calling forth. The immortal did not know what the result of the calling would be, but he was sure it was not intended to aid them.
Chapter Twenty-one
The Emperor sliced through another throat, cutting off the screaming of the woman. All of the sacrifices were women, since they were gentler souls, more acceptable to the God of Death, who enjoyed the torment he could inflict on such a soul. But he was getting tired of their screams and cries, and was ready for the whole thing to end.
He flung the body over the edge of the tower using his undead strength. It fell like a limp rag until it splatted on the ground below. Some more arrows came up, and the wizards who were warding him knocked them down.
The next woman in line was dragged to him. She was a large, muscular woman, one of the white-skinned Nords who inhabited the north of the subcontinent. It struck him as strange that the native humans had skin tones that were of a basic color. Pure white for Nords, pure reds for others, or yellow, or pitch black. The Earth humans had more subtle tones, as if they had been intermingling for a much longer time.
The woman almost threw off one of her guards, until the Emperor grabbed her hair and jerked her down, saying a quick prayer to Bothar under his breath. A slice by the knife and she was bleeding out. More importantly, her soul was trying to leave her body, to get away before something ate it. Too late, as the God of Death was near, and the soul was inexorably pulled into his substance. Normally the half litch would partake in some of the energy. Not this time, as this ceremony was too important. He needed to complete the summoning before the Dwarves below broke out and overran the gate, and let the horde of humans inside.
"Another knife," he called out to one of the priests who stood by. Than man grabbed another blade from the table, one that was a duplicate of the one the Emperor held. It was a thirty-centimeter blade of razor sharpness, attached to a hilt ending in the head of a demon.
The Emperor gestured, and another woman was brought forward, this one the light brown tones of an Earth female. Her forehead had been marked with a spell, certifying that this was not a devout follower of the damned Earth Gods. Sacrificing one of them would result in disaster. He was unlikely to survive the rebound of power from the overgod those people worshiped under many guises.
Dark clouds, looking like nothing natural, started to swirl in the sky. Thunder sounded, followed by what seemed like a harsh growling voice. The Emperor shouted out in a similar voice, grabbed the next sacrifice, and added her blood and energy to the pool.
The clouds above continued to swirl, until a hole appeared, leading to a deeper blackness. The growling voices came forth, echoing over the plains outside the city. The Emperor turned his gaze on the enemy warriors, to see many of them staring openmouthed into the sky. If everything worked as planned, most of them were doomed. The believers among them might not be, but they would not be able to win the battle on their own.
Another sacrifice, more power flowing into the God of Death, more power flowing into the portal opening from the realm of demons to this world. Suddenly, the first one was through, a red body four meters long, six-meter wings sweeping out to each side. It looked down and scratched. It was a minor demon, the scout for the horde that was to come. It stayed in the air, looking, studying, looking up into the portal and screeching again.
Like the blink of an eye there were another four demons in the air. They were the same class as the first, scouts, and they flapped to the four winds and looked
down at the enemy. A feeling of dread and doom radiated from them. Some of the humans dropped their weapons and ran, their commanders screaming for them to come back. Most stayed where they were, fear radiating from their bodies, but holding enough courage to prepare for battle. The big immortal had pulled his powerful blade from the sheath on his back, and was glaring up at the demons.
That's the one to watch, thought the Emperor as he grabbed the next sacrifice. Of course, the two others standing next to him, if not possessing weapons quite as powerful, were just as dangerous in their persons. He looked up into the air after slitting the throat of the young Conyastoya woman to see that there were dozens of demons in the air, the same variety, but these were armed with infernal weapons that would steal the souls of the ones they killed. He was not sure what would happen when they eventually killed one of the worshipers of the Overgod, but that was their problem, not his. Dozens became scores, until there were over a hundred of the creatures in the air.
Then the next species of demon came through. These were almost twice the size of the original variety, with great horns sweeping two meters from their foreheads. Three, then seven, then twenty, they remained in the sky, staring down with implacable hatred at the enemy of the Emperor, the enemy of their god.
When the total number of demons reached two hundred, the last came through. The priests in the city were all praying at the tops of their lungs, protecting the people of the city from the attentions of creatures that would just as soon eat their souls as look at them. Their mouths all shut with claps as the greater demon came through. A giant of a creature, ten meters in length, wings outstretched to twenty meters on each side. Its mouth was open in a soundless scream, red-hot flame showing through the orifice. It carried a whip of flame that reached twenty meters from the handle, the red head of a fire snake on the end.
There was more panic below, and more of the enemy dropped weapons and shields and ran as fast as they could. Horses reared and threw the riders that were keeping them in place, nothing in their dull minds but survival. Some of the cannon hissed, trying to send balls into the demons. Most failed, a couple hit, but the monsters struck just shook it off and continued to circle.
The greater demon, almost a god himself, roared, a sound that rattled the very stones of the city walls The demon folded it wings and dove to the Earth, its minions following in its wake.
* * *
"This isn't good," said Paul Mason-Smythe, looking into the sky as more and more demons dropped from the portal in the clouds and circled the field, like a bunch of raptors waiting for the kill.
"That some more of that British understatement?" Kurt asked, frowning.
"They are going to slaughter us," said Ismael Levine, his brows furrowing as if he were trying to think his way out of this situation.
"At least they won't get a chance to eat our souls," said Paul with a tight smile.
The immortals, from all they had gathered and all the people of this world had told them, had potentially limitless lifespans. But they had no auras, the energy fields that accompanied souls. The conjecture was that they had no souls, and for them the afterlife didn't exist. In a way that was comforting, as they wouldn't have to face any of the fabled hells of so many religions. In another, it was very frightening, as death meant the end of existence.
Kurt looked at the other two immortals, searching for the fear he could feel running up his spine. He saw no sign of it. Both had their weapons out, gripping them in white knuckles, ready to fight against the monsters up above. All composed for the battle that would pit their innate strength against the infernal power of these creatures. He thought he must not be showing his either.
"This is so wrong," he shouted. The other two looked at him, surprise on their faces. "The enemy can call up these monsters, but the gods our people serve can’t reciprocate. Why not?"
The big German looked over forty meters away where the command staff was standing in shock. The Ellala High Priest, Fallandera Lisantrana, what would be considered the Pope of Arathonia in the alliance, stood there with them, holding onto his prayer beads, closing his eyes and mumbling.
Kurt ran over to the man, dodging around the soldiers who stood in shocked silence. He hit a few of them with his body as he tried to edge by, sending them spinning off onto the ground. He didn't bother apologizing. He didn't have time for it if he was to accomplish what needed to be done.
"Your eminence," said Kurt, stopping in front of the Ellala priest. "We need to talk."
"This is not a good time for speech," said the man, opening eyes with pupils so wide there were almost no irises. "I need to call for the protection of our souls, lest these things drag all of us to hell."
"And I have a question for you. Why the hell can't your God, the one you claim is so good and powerful, come to our material aid? If that bastard up there," Kurt said, pointing his two-handed sword up at the tower top where the sacrifices were continuing, "can summon these powerful monsters to slaughter us, why can't Arathonia bring on her own monsters?"
"Arathonia has no demons, my Lord," said the priest, his eyes narrowing, his face flushing in anger.
"What about angels? Doesn't your God have any powerful servants? Or are you saying that Bothar is more powerful than Arathonia?"
"Arathonia is not the weaker of the two," growled the priest. "But she does not work in that way."
"Then maybe she needs to start working in that way. If these things scatter this army, what do you think will happen? If this army is destroyed, there isn't another to take its place. Then this bastard will rule this region for the rest of time, tracking down the worshipers of your God and killing them all. So, if she doesn't want that to happen, she had better get off her ass and do something."
The priest looked at him in shock. Kurt guessed that the Ellala did not know how to handle such blasphemy. But that was the least of their problems at the moment. Something roared in the air followed by a cacophony of screams. He looked up to see the largest demon plunging toward the earth; the others close behind.
* * *
Garios bounced from the wall, his head ringing from the contact of his helmeted head on the rock. The wind was knocked out of him, and he struggled to keep a grip on his warhammer.
The Queen of the Vampires laughed and jumped toward him, moving so fast she appeared to be a blur to his sight. The priest struggled to get his shield up and in the way. He was too slow, she too fast, and she batted it aside before he could get it in place. Her clawed hand swung toward his throat, a killing blow. The dwarf was able to bring his chin down in time, and accepted the slash below his lip.
Garios struggled to get free as she grabbed his arms, pulling him close as she opened her jaws to present her fangs. The priest really didn't want to come back as a vampire. He was looking forward to the paradise of his god, not the life of an undead and a term in hell before rebirth.
"Grimmoire," he yelled out in a thunderous voice, the name of his god with all of his faith and devotion behind it. The vampire queen recoiled, releasing her grip. The dwarf pushed away with his shield, the power of his God flowing into his muscles. The vampire flew through the air to strike the wall of the tunnel, grunting as she hit.
"You die now," hissed the vampire, stepping away from the wall.
"You've been trying for minutes now, but I'm still here," said Garios with a short laugh. He was still afraid. He was not afraid of death, but he was terrified of where death at the hands of this creature would lead. The power of his god was feeding him courage, and his anger at the very existence of this creature was also fueling him.
The vampire moved again, but this time he was ready for her. Lightning flared from his hammer, and no matter how fast she was, she couldn't outrun the electricity. The vampire's body arced as the electricity flowed through her. Her hair stood on end all over her body, and her eyes almost bugged from her head. Areas of her flesh smoked and burned, and Garios had hopes that this attack would do her in. As the last sparks flew
from her body and the injuries started to knit closed, he knew those hopes were false, but she had been hurt. It showed in her eyes, that now resembled those of a frightened animal looking for an out.
Garios took a quick glance to either side, into the other tunnels this secondary passage connected with. The priests and warriors were winning, and there were very few of the undead left in the battle. That glance was a mistake, and by the time he focused back on the queen she was gone.
"Forward," yelled the dwarven duke who was leading the attack. "Forward. We must break through and take the gate."
* * *
The archers were the first to react, sending a wave of shafts up into the diving demons. A cry went up from the soldiers as most of the arrows bounced from hard skins. A few of the magical penetrators, a small percentage of those fired, sank into flesh, but they weren't enough to stop them.
The Demon Lord landed among the artillery, grabbing a pair of cannon in its talons and flinging them toward groups of infantry. A cannon hissed/cracked and sent a ball into the chest of the demon. The ball struck with a flat smack, then bounced away. The demon screamed in pain, then looked at the gun that had shot him and opened his mouth wide. A gout of hot flame jetted from the orifice to wash over the cannon. The crew, caught up in the wash of flame, screamed like the damned. That was probably what they were. Lore said that those killed by demon fire had their souls pulled into the hell that was the home of that monster. From the sounds of the people, Kurt could believe that, and felt sick to his stomach as he thought about the torment those men were now facing, all for battling against evil. The cannon itself softened and melted like wax, and the ready jewels of fire used to shoot exploded out in a wave of flame that took more men into the afterlife. Hopefully, to a cleaner end.
Kurt had never understood this world's hierarchy of afterlife reward and punishment. A person of good heart fighting evil could expect an afterlife of torment if killed by that evil. The courage of people of good heart on this world to continue fighting evil surprised him. If he had been concerned about his soul, he wouldn't have left Earth’s religious traditions for love or money.
Refuge: Book 5: Angels & Demons Page 24
