Refuge: Book 5: Angels & Demons

by Doug Dandridge

  The mid-level demons came down among the archers, grabbing and ripping, sending caricatures of humanoid bodies flying through the air. Some of the archers continued to fire, some pulled melee weapons and ran to the attack. Most dropped their weapons and ran. Some of those were grabbed from behind by fiends unwilling to lose their prey. Lore said that the kills of demons fed them power, and the hungry creatures seemed almost frantic to collect all they could.

  The small demons landed among the infantry, smacking and grabbing with their talons, or flying overhead to go for the heads and upper bodies of their victims.

  The demons did not have it their own way in every instance. Courageous men with magical weapons went on the attack. Here a smaller demon flapped one wing as it spun on the ground, the other severed, ichor spurting from the stump. There one of the large versions continued to attack with a spear through its abdomen, still stomping forward, its life's blood pumping through the wound. But overall, the warriors were being slaughtered by the enemy.

  A small demon rushed toward Kurt, small, in relation to the others, but still towering over the tall immortal. It swung a talon, intending to take the head off the man, and met a speeding two-handed sword that glowed white hot as it touched the wrist and sliced through. The talon flew away, and the demon pulled its arm back while screeching its agony. Kurt didn't give it a chance to strike again, reversing his sword blade and pushing it forward like a spear, straight through the breast of the demon. The creature coughed up blood that burned as it hit the immortal in the face. Kurt pulled the blade out in a draw cut, and the demon fell over, muscles twitching as life left its body.

  Nearby Paul swung the huge god hammer he had appropriated for his own use, staving in the side of a lesser demon, crumpling the creature up on its side. As it bent, the huge immortal brought the hammer down on its head with a sound like a watermelon falling from a great height and hitting concrete. The light went out of the demon's eyes in an instant, and the limp body crashed to the ground.

  Levine fought in a different manner. His age gave him a strength the other immortals would not possess for centuries. His lack of their bulk gave him a speed they couldn't match as well. He was using this speed, and the twin longswords in his hands moved like blurs, part of a dance of death that confused his enemies even while he opened their veins and arteries. Two lesser demons had attacked the elder immortal. One was already dead, a bleeding thrust through its chest showing the means of its end. The other was still circling, clutching at an abdominal wound. Levine was a thruster, pushing his blade into the body of his enemy to cause the most organ damage he could.

  The immortals were holding their own, and killing their opponents as they came. But there were over a hundred of them, and the rest of the army was faring so well.

  As long as they don't swarm us, thought Kurt, running toward one of the larger demons, screaming at the top of his lungs and swinging his sword. The demon looked up from the body it was eating to give him an infernal grin, gore flowing from its mouth. It spit fire at the immortal that washed over the man as Kurt raised his arm over his eyes. He braced himself for the agony of his flesh catching on fire, and was surprised when all he felt was a gentle warmth. The fire was magical, and his body did not feel the effect of magical forces. A bitch when he needed healing, though his own body normally took care of that, but very useful when one of the magical beings of this world tried to do him in.

  The big immortal sprung into the air, rearing back with the sword, covering the twenty-meter distance in an instant. The blade came in in a blur. This was one of the creatures the Paladin's blade had been created to combat, and its flesh burned as the metal of the sword touched. That would have caused the creature great agony. Would have, if it hadn't had had its throat slit by the impossibly sharp edge.

  A dragon roared, and Kurt turned to see one of the large creatures, a silver, standing on its pair of legs while it bit down on one of the lesser demons, teeth meeting through the neck. The rider took a shot at another one, a greater demon. The crossbow bolt bounced away, and the demon roared, pointing at the dragon. Kurt got a view of what a swarm of demons looked like, as several greater demons and a dozen of the lesser flew to the dragon and mobbed it. In seconds the rider was torn apart, and the silver roared and let forth gouts of hot flame. The demons returned their own fire at the dragon. One hit the dragon in the head and surrounded it in flames. Silvers were creatures of fire, and the demon fire did little damage. It was not immune to physical damage though, and the supernaturally strong demons ripped into the beautiful creature. It killed two demons, the one it had bitten and another it had crushed with a rear claw, but it didn't have the strength to keep the others from ripping through its scales and opening up its large arteries.

  Paul yelled out, and Kurt turned to see another dozen demons swarming onto the big Brit. Paul was very large for a human, over two meters tall and massing more than a hundred and fifty kilos. He looked small compared to even the lesser demons. His enchanted armor was protecting him from the claws, but if enough of them grabbed and pulled, they could tear the immortal apart.

  Kurt rushed over the broken ground, leaping over a body, his eyes locked on the monsters who were threatening his friend. Paul was actually holding his own; something Kurt wouldn't have believed given the relative mass of the monsters swarming him. He speared his own blade forward into the back of a demon, punching it through the chest, then pulling it out in a draw cut that sliced through the spine, leaving it to flop on the ground. Paul smashed another one, then went down as two hit him in the chest with taloned hands. Kurt killed another, and Paul got a grip on the throat of one of his attackers and jerked it into the way of the other. In moments, it was over, at least for this one small battle, and the demons were dead. Kurt helped his ichor-covered friend back to his feet, his head turning and taking in the field of battle.

  It was not going well for the alliance. There were bodies everywhere, limbs and heads ripped off. More and more people were running, the swift demons chasing them down to slaughter them in their helplessness. The priests were fighting back, calling on the powers of their Gods. In places they were driving the demons back. In others, they were being overwhelmed. He caught sight of the high priest and ran over to him, his metabolism accelerating until he was flying over the ground at a hundred kilometers an hour. He couldn't keep himself going at this rate for long, but he needed to as long as possible.

  "Where the hell is your goddess?" yelled the immortal as he came to a stop in front of the shocked looking priest. "Why isn't she helping us? That damned bastard in the city seems to be having no problem getting his god to respond. So why not Arathonia?"

  "The gods don't work in that way," shouted the priest, his eyes rolling in panic.

  "Well, she better get off her ass and do something, or we're meat. These things are going to roll over us. And I'll tell you something else. I'm not running. So unless she wants to find a new champion to take my place when I'm lying dead on this field, she better do something."

  "I've tried, my son. I've tried, and she isn't answering."

  "Then damn her to hell. I want nothing to do with a goddess that does nothing while her enemy takes a direct hand in killing us."

  "That's blasphemy," growled the priest, making a sign with his hands that would probably send a Refuge native into a panic from its implications.

  "Blasphemy against something with no power? Don't make me laugh." Kurt looked up to the sky and shouted at the top of his lungs. "If you aren't going to help us, then at least just leave us alone."

  With that, he turned and ran back into the battle, heading toward a small group of demons that was killing a cluster of infantry who were fighting their hardest to survive. But not hard enough.

  * * *

  “Let us pray,” yelled out the senior sergeant known to all as the Preacher. Men knelt with folded hands for the most part, though a few knelt and bowed, and some others sat cross-legged on the ground. All were praying in
the words of their own faiths, mostly Christian denominations, a preponderance of Catholics and Lutherans, Baptists and Methodists. Some were Muslims, a few Buddhists, even a couple of Jews, but most were from Germany or American, predominantly Christian countries, and beings from their worst nightmares were dropping toward them.

  Dieter held one of Bubbuh’s hands in his left, Humphrey’s in his right, as each said the Our Father, trying to call up the protection of the god they believed in. Since coming to this world, they had seen that there were other gods, but they continued to believe that theirs was stronger, and so far he had proven so.

  A dozen of the smaller demons headed toward their group with hate filled eyes glaring at them as they led with flaming swords. With a screech of recognition, most of the creatures veered off, seeking more palatable prey. One continued toward them and thrust its sword into a man. The result was spectacular as a gout of energy flowed into the demon, which disintegrated in a burst of white light. It was a blast that should have blown many of the praying men apart, but they were untouched, save the man that had been killed. He slumped to the ground with a smile on his face, his soul saved.

  “God has protected us,” shouted Preacher.

  While Dieter had to agree with that sentiment, their God was not protecting most of the others on that field, and the demons were diving and killing all around them.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  "Shit, shit, shit," said Dirk Winslow as the demons appeared. One was as big as the monster they had seen back at the bridge fort. There were many smaller ones, but they were still demons, and he was sure they would rip him and his band-mates to shreds in seconds. That singular monster was truly spectacular in its height and breadth.

  "You can say that again," said Peter, standing up from his drum set.

  They had not started playing yet. There had seemed no need, since the army was merely bombarding the walls and gates of the city. There was no army to fight, with the exception of some archers. Then the dark clouds had come over, causing Dirk to wonder if they needed to seek the shelter of their tent. But instead of raindrops, fire-red creatures from hell had dropped.

  "What the hell are we going to do?" asked Reinhold, who had just picked up his bass, and now looked at it like he wasn't sure what it was. The bassist looked back at the demons as they spread out over the battlefield and went into the attack. "If we start playing, you know a couple of them are going to home in on us. And we can't fight that."

  Dirk had to agree with his assessment, yet they couldn't just sit here and let the people on their side be slaughtered. That would be dereliction of duty, holding back their power during a full out fight. But what could they do that wouldn't get them slaughtered in a second?

  "What about that thing over there?" asked Peter in an excited voice, pointing at some nearby ruins. "That looks stout enough."

  "Good," said Dirk, a feeling of relief coming over him. They really were ruins, of some kind of heavy walled house. It wouldn't stand up to an assault by human sized opponents, with its open doors and windows, but it didn't look like the demons would be able to fit. If they got far enough back in the main room, it could work. It was about a hundred meters from the hill they were occupying, and they had to move not just their instruments, but also the amplification boxes that the dwarves had made for them. "Let's start getting this stuff over. The amps and the drum kit first.”

  It took several minutes for each of them to drag a heavy piece of equipment into the ruined house, and all were exhausted when they got them there. The house walls and roof were intact, and made of heavy stone.

  "This should be able to stand up to them," said Wolfgang in a voice that indicated that he was not really sure of that. He ran a hand over the stonework, giving a satisfied grunt.

  They are demons, after all, thought Dirk, not wanting to spook his friends and have them back out of his plan. We don't know what they can do, but I'm willing to bet that if given enough time they could get through that.

  "Okay, second trip," he ordered. "I'll get my guitar and a drum. In fact, everyone get a drum, so poor old Peter won't have to make more trips."

  They all laughed at that, trying to buoy up their spirits and courage, until they got outside and the reality of the situation hit them in the face. The demons were still on a rampage. People were fighting back, and as they watched one of the big immortals killed one. But all in all the exchange rate was not one that favored the alliance forces.

  "Come on," yelled Dirk, starting back for their instruments, his flesh crawling at the thought of one of the infernal creatures coming for him as he scampered across the ground. He was not one of the protected; he had willingly joined in the worship of the local gods to gain the power they granted. Which could allow his soul to go to some dismal hell if a demon took him.

  The other three stood in place, not moving, eyes locked on the battle going on below their position.

  "Get your asses moving! We're not going to just stand here when we can help."

  The three started after him, their eyes still locked on the demons. The odor of blood and voided bowels was reaching even to here, and the scent of brimstone permeated it all. It was enough to turn their stomachs, and make them wonder what the infantry and artillerymen were going through down there.

  Finally, they reached their instruments and ran them back, making haste to get out of view of the demons. It only took another minute to set up and test the sound. Electricity wasn't involved, like on Earth. Magic was their power source, and that came from them and their music itself.

  "Okay, everyone ready?"

  "What song?" asked Wolfgang, fear showing in his eyes. "Something to buoy the spirits, or something to chase demons."

  It was obvious he was hoping the answer would be no song, and Dirk felt for him, but they had to play something.

  "I don't think raising spirits is going to help much," said Dirk, shaking his head. "Those who are fighting already have enough motivation, while those who are running aren't going to stop for anything."

  He could tell what they were thinking while they were looking at him. They were wondering why they couldn't join those running, but he couldn't let them do that.

  "Okay. On three."

  The music blasted out from the house, a loud heavy-metal song that would attack the demons to their infernal souls. They played for minutes, and Dirk walked to the entrance while playing his guitar to get a look out and see if they were accomplishing anything.

  He was gratified to see that some of the demons seemed to be distressed by the music. Some were holding their ears, and he watched as a platoon of archers took one down that was distracted. Then he saw some of the others, also screeching their displeasure and looking around. One looked directly into his eyes, sending a wave of fear that caused his bladder to release. It waved and screeched some more, then headed his way on widespread wings, a pair falling in behind it. It had seen the source of the pain, and it was coming to snuff it out.

  * * *

  There was more screaming from behind, just when Garios thought they were about to reach the surface.

  "What the hell now?" he yelled as he turned and tramped back the way he had come, pushing his way through confused Dwarves, then some that weren't so confused as they ran in terror from whatever was attacking them.

  Then what was attacking them was right in front of him, a multi-horned demon, one of those that inhabited the underground regions of the planet, when they weren't in the hells of their god.

  Garios felt a shiver of fear as he saw the demons. Not from what they could do, but from what he must do to stop them. His god, and the pantheon he was in, would intervene in the affairs of mortals. Law was not afraid, but there were often consequences of calling such aid. Consequences that involved potential life span.

  The first demon looked over at the priest, opening its mouth and letting out a roar that sounded like steam rising from a vent in the earth mixed with bubbling lava. It started toward the priest, who raise
d his hammer and said a prayer to his god.

  He hit the demon in the chest with his hammer, a sound of thunder reverberating through the caverns. The rocky skin of the demon cracked and it stepped back. In seconds the skin, now glowing like fire, set itself, and the demon started forward again.

  "I call on you, Grimmoire, God of the Earth and my people. Send me aid against these creatures."

  Garios felt lightheaded as he finished the call. The god had taken life force from the body of his priest, the energy needed to open the portal between his dimension and the world. The god, like most, was selfish. He would not give up his energy when there was another source he could tap. The priest felt his vision blur, his knees weaken, and he wondered if the god was going to drain him. Such had happened to others in the past. He was afraid it might happen again, here and now. At least he would end up in the dwarven heaven if his own god killed him.

  Garios fell on his butt, watching as the demon stalked forth, five others forming up behind him. There was a priest of one of their enemies before them, and it was time to feast.

  * * *

  Kurt sliced into another of the demons, his sword cutting through the hard skin as if it was nothing but normal flesh. This was what the blade had been made for. It was also good for killing vampires and werebeasts, but demons were its preferred prey. The major demon screamed out and turned, its claws striking at the large human that was small beside its height. Razor sharp claws scraped along his armor, a screeching noise painful to the sensitive ears of the immortal. It struck with the other claw, this time hitting the immortal in the face, knocking him back with a gaping wound on his jaw.