Refuge: Book 5: Angels & Demons

by Doug Dandridge

  Kurt set himself, feeling the skin already beginning to knit through the force of his peculiar metabolism. He ignored the itching pain and stepped forward, thrusting with his sword like it was a short spear. The infantry the demon had been attacking had at least gotten away. Or so the German had thought, until a dozen of them swarmed the demon, thrusting with their swords. Their blades were not good enough, and the monster threw them away, killing three.

  The paladin blade struck the back of the demon, into the root of its wing, halfway cutting it off. The monster turned with murder in its eye to take the blade through its chest. Kurt thrust up, then pulled down, slicing through the diaphragm and abdominal muscles of the beast, spilling its entrails onto the ground. The demon looked up to the sky, its mouth opened in a silent scream. Ichor pumped from the wound while it tried to clamp its hands over the slash. It fell over on its back, its breath rattling from its lungs. With one last shudder, it died and started to melt away.

  I don't have time for this, thought Kurt, pulling himself out of his shocked observation of the dying of an infernal creature. It was not the first he had killed this day, but it had been the first he had seen actually crossing back over to its infernal regions. From what he understood, it had not really died, just lost its material sheath in this dimension. It would go back to its hell, there to stay for a long period of time until it had gathered enough energy to be summoned again, if someone tried to do so.

  There were still almost a hundred of the demons on the field, despite what the immortals and some of the priests had done. It was almost as if more had come from their infernal regions while they were battling. That was not impossible. Though if it were happening, it meant they had already lost this fight.

  The Ellala high priest stood on the top of a small rise, his arms stretched into the air, calling out in a language that Kurt had never heard before. Other priests, glowing with holy light, stood around him, warding him from the demons who were trying, so far unsuccessfully, to penetrate their shield. Everything seemed to be going their way until the chief demon, the one that towered over the field, landed in front of the rise and started to push its way through the holy power, a grim smile on its face.

  Kurt wasn't sure what the priest was trying to do. Only that it was meant to help his side in the battle. And if the demon ripped him apart, this fight was over.

  Then he noted the large clusters of human soldiers on their knees praying, and the way the demons were avoiding them. That was all very well for those men, but was doing nothing for the rest of the army. With an idea in mind, he sprinted over to the first group.

  * * *

  In the halls of power, the heavenly palace of the Queen of the Gods of Life, Arathonia looked down upon the world. She had the appearance of a beautiful Ellala woman: hair of gold, perfect pale skin, and eyes of glowing blue. She looked that way because her people believed she looked that way. The gold veined marble of the palace existed because of belief. On this world everything divine, infernal or magical was that way because of belief by the mortal beings who inhabited it. They were the real power, and their worship and prayer empowered the gods, made them real. Without that belief, they would not exist.

  Arathonia was actually a simple creature. She had her wants and desires, and that was about it. Some thoughts went through the field of energy that was her mind, none of them deep. She did think at times about the beings that the newcomers had brought over the dimensional barrier with them. Were they also merely beings of belief? Then how did they come over, and how did they possess so much power on a world that was not theirs?

  A voice started calling, coming from the realm of the mortal, echoing through the chambers of her palace. She recognized the voice, one of her Ellala priests. He sounded frightened. He sounded insistent, and she had to wonder why he was bothering her. With a thought, she was looking down on the earth, to the planet the newcomers called their Refuge. A battle was going on there. Something she normally ignored. Her task was to provide healing energy and the power to fight evil to her priests, and nothing more. However. this battle was different. Her eyes widened as she saw the demons moving across the field slaughtering the mortals, pulling their souls into the hells of their god. The souls that should have been hers, to live in her paradise even while they strengthened her. The immortals, including the one she thought of as her champion, were fighting them, and they were losing. As she watched, a great demon attacked the holy barrier that was protecting the priest. It reached through with a groan of agony and grabbed one of the sub-priests, ripping her apart and flinging the remains across the hilltop.

  This I cannot let stand, she thought, calling up her power, calling up her servants. She pointed a finger at the battlefield through the dimensions and shouted a word.

  * * *

  The demons advancing on Garios stopped in their tracks as the floor of the tunnel rippled, then shook. Rock dust fell from the ceiling, the floor rippled again, this time half a dozen spots rising like small domes. They continued to rise, the eyes of the demons following them. The infernal creatures hissed their rage as they recognized their enemies. With the crack of thunder, the creatures erupted out of the ground, their heads scraping the ceiling, their thick fingered hands reaching out.

  Earth Daemons, the servants of the God of the Earth. One of them stepped forward with a sound of grinding stone, its large paw reaching out to grasp at one of the demons, their natural enemies through several dimensions. The daemons were larger, more powerful, but were still outnumbered by the demons. There was no fear in either party; the hate was too hot, too deep.

  A daemon jumped forward, grabbing one of the demons by the neck, its rock-like hands crushing the throat of the other creature. The demon was not helpless, and its own adamantine claws gouged rifts into the forearms of its attacker. The next instant the earth was shaking as the two forces clashed together, rock hard fists smashing leering faces, claws cutting through limbs. Rock dust and dirt fell from the ceiling and dwarves landed on their backs as they lost their footing. The screeches and screams of the supernatural creatures echoed from the walls, blasting at the eardrums of the mortals.

  It was looking like the outnumbered daemons were not going to win this fight, despite their strength. The demons were less massive, and therefore faster. There were not only more of them, but they were getting in two strikes each for every one the daemons landed, but the daemons weren't alone, while the demons were.

  "At them," yelled Garios, back on his feet, hammer gripped tightly in two hands. He ran forward and struck the closest demon in the back, his weapon flashing with lightning as the clap of thunder propagated through the body of the creature. It fell slack to the ground, not dead, but seriously injured. The stomp of a daemon's foot crushed down on its head, finishing the job. The demon melted away, its fluids flowing into the ground as a bubbling mess.

  The daemon he had aided could now turn its attention to the other demon, smashing both fists together, catching and crushing its head between the massive appendages. The skull was collapsed in an instant, and another of the demons was soon melting into the ground.

  Not everything went the way of the Lords of Law. One daemon went down under a swarm of demons, and soon its throat was ripped out in a spray of rock dust. The daemons did not melt. There was almost no moisture in them, and the one just killed crumbled into dry dust.

  More demons appeared, coming out of the darkness. They were matched by more of the rock daemons, rising up from the earth and immediately joining battle. The dwarven priests were fully into the battle now. If the daemons lost, they too would be killed, and so they fought with everything they had. Everything included the lives of some that found themselves overwhelmed.

  Garios was a powerful priest, the chosen cleric of his king, what would be considered an archbishop in many of the religions of the planet. He was able to channel more of his god's power than most, but even he had his limits. Garios was beginning to feel like he was approaching them. He stru
ck out again with his hammer, hitting another demon. This time the creature shrugged it off, an indication that the energy of the priest was waning. It reached back with a talon, starting to swing it forward in a strike that would rip the priest's throat, and with it, his life.

  A heavy rock hand landed on the shoulder of the demon, driving it halfway to its knees, then jerking it back and flinging it into the wall. The daemon died a moment later as three demons swarmed over it, while Garios struck one of them down with a blow to the head. The two remaining demons turned his way, and Garios did not think he would have the strength to fight them off.

  * * *

  Dieter wasn’t sure at first if he liked this idea, but the immortal Kurt had given the order, and they had to obey. A group of almost two hundred of the faithful was on the move, praying as they walked, moving toward part of the battle where demons were overwhelming mortals. He could feel the power building around him as they walked, their god with them.

  The demons looked up to see them coming and screeched their anger. A half dozen started for them, and then stopped in the air as if they had hit a wall. Those were soon fleeing, looking for easier prey. As the protected drew nearer, the other demons fled, leaving many dead mortals behind, but more importantly, a large group of those still living, who would now live to fight again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The immortals had almost unimaginable reserves of strength, but they still had their limits, and Kurt felt like he was nearing his. He had just slain another of the lesser demons, a task that had left him drained and bloody from the wounds it inflicted upon his face and neck. He was healing, quickly, but healing took energy. It would eventually get to the point where he would no longer be able to knit his wounds, or have enough blood to keep himself alive.

  It didn't look like the demons were going to give him a chance to recover his strength, as half a dozen of the lesser variety turned his way and started flapping toward him.

  Damn you, you unfaithful bitch, he thought, looking up for a moment. He was not sure where the heaven of Arathonia was, but most of her worshipers seemed to think it was up. At least he could try to send his thoughts that way, and hope she picked up on them before he died.

  A light from above struck him in the face, blinding him with its brilliance. At first, he thought the sun must have come from behind the clouds that the demons had brought with them. He opened his eyes, gratified that he still had his sight, though it was somewhat blurry, and saw that the dark clouds were still there. But a couple score of beams of light shone through them. The demons caught in that light were all screaming in pain, and scrambling to get back into the shadows.

  At first, it seemed as if nothing else was going on except for the light beams shining down, until other bright objects moved down them. The beams of light flashed off, and the beautiful creatures revealed took the breaths away from everyone who saw them. The mortals felt their courage returning, while the demons cried out in rage and terror, and sprung to attack the enemies they rarely engaged.

  The angels all looked like beautiful women, or was that men? It was hard to tell with their androgynous good looks. They had smooth bodies, what could be seen under their armor. They were thin and narrow, with none of the curves of women, though the fair faces and shining blue eyes reminded Kurt of some of the gorgeous females of the Nordic countries. The wings protruding from their backs were not covered in feathers like the representations of angels from Earth, but instead were like the flying appendages of bats, covered in the same fair flesh as their faces and hands, with an overcoat of pure white fur. Instead of clawed hands, their manipulating appendages looked very human. Their weapons were the great swords they clasped, glowing with the same holy light as their bodies.

  Like the demons they came in two general sizes. The smaller seemed the faster as they started to form a front line. The larger appeared to be much stronger as they swung their huge swords through the air as if testing their balance. Or maybe they simply threatening the enemy.

  The demons seemed to get over their alarm quickly. With a flap of wings that sounded like hundreds of sails cracking, they were headed off toward the angels, coming in from all sides at the divine creatures that occupied the sky in the center of the field. It was obviously a fight to the death, though Kurt wasn't sure if death was the right word. They could be destroyed on this plane, but would reconstitute on the plane of their god, ready after a time to be redeployed.

  I wonder if they have something like Valhalla? he thought. That would be an interesting concept for the mortals here, and he wondered if Arathonia or some other god might institute it if they heard the idea. If that was something they could do, if not constrained by some other laws.

  The first lesser demon to get within range of a lesser angel met its fate as the tip of a glowing sword pushed through its chest. It got one claw into the shining armor of the angel, ripping a gash that leaked a silver liquid that must have been the divine creature's blood. The demon fell out of the sky, screaming its agony as flaming ichor fell from it. By the time it hit the ground, it was merely a blob of liquid bubbling into the dirt and was gone. The angel moved back into the ranks, seeming a little slowed, a little clumsy from the strike.

  Infernal fire and a divine light that looked like laser beams flew between the two hosts, striking their opposite numbers and seeming to do little damage. The energies that could destroy mortals seemed to have no effect on the immortal. Only their physical weapons could destroy the other. They struck with those weapons, ripping holes in bodies and slicing wings from backs. Here, a demon tore the head off an angel, and that being exploded into smalls flakes of light that ascended quickly above the clouds. There, a greater angel sliced the head off another demon, sending its stinking liquid into the ground. The sky rumbled with thunder and the Earth shook as the first battle between the hosts of the leaders of Death and Life met in battle.

  "What the hell are you looking at?" yelled General Delgado, now on horseback and riding the field. "Form up into your units and get ready for battle."

  He saw Kurt, standing on the field, leaning on his sword and catching his breath. The big immortal knew he could fight now if need be, but some rest would be welcome, so that he could again move and strike like a demigod, and not a mere mortal.

  "It looks like the queen listened to you," said the general, smiling down from his horse as he reined it to a halt next to Kurt. Levine and Mason-Smythe came walking slowly toward them, looking as fatigued as Kurt felt.

  "My curses or the priest's prayers."

  "Or maybe both," said Levine with a lopsided smile on his face. "Deities are fickle creatures, after all."

  The most ancient of the immortals looked up at the general. "And what are you thinking of doing, Delgado?"

  "I'm thinking of taking that city as soon as the dwarves open the gates," snarled the human. "I've lost too many people to these hell spawn to think of retreating. Either those glowing things beat the evil things and we can take the city, or the evil things win, and we have to kill whatever of them that remain. But either way, my army needs to be set and ready."

  He looked down at Kurt for a moment. "I seem to have lost two of my division commanders. Could a couple of you gentlemen fill in?" Kurt had been a division commander for most of the march, until Taylor had learned of it and demoted him, not taking his rank, but removing him from command.

  "Are you sure Taylor will approve?" asked Paul.

  "Taylor isn't here. And as long as he's not giving me orders to the contrary, I don't give a damn what he approves of or not. I'm offering two of you field commissions to major general. Hell, why not all three of you. I probably need another second in command. I think my last one got pulled apart over there," He pointed with his sword to a point on the field where piles of bodies laid.

  "I'll take the first," said Paul, looking over at the others.

  "You take overall second in command, Ismael," said Kurt. "I'll take the second division."

 
A clap of thunder sounded over the field, too strong for anyone to hear, too strong for many men to move. All of the party looked in the direction of the thunder, to see an enormous red dragon dropping to the ground, its mouth opened in a roar.

  "I didn't think they had any that large," said Delgado, his eyes wide with terror.

  "That isn't a dragon," said Levine. "I think we are about to be introduced to one of the lesser gods of the Pantheon of Death."

  * * *

  The band continued to play, sending out waves of sound. There was nothing else they could do. Dirk shook with fear as he kept pounding out the riffs. The feedback from his own music was giving him the strength to keep going, otherwise he would be curled up on the floor shivering like a rabbit cornered by a snake. The other band members were in just as bad a state, though they also kept on, trying to keep up the harmony. At times, it failed them and they could do nothing more than hit random notes, or hit rhythms that had nothing to do with the song.

  The reason for their distress was hammering at the stone walls of the ruins and dislodging stones and rock dust. Baleful eyes would look through the windows periodically, and clawed hands would reach in. If they had been the greater demons, they would have easily reached the band members. As it was, they were barely out of reach of the infuriated demons. The walls and roof were holding up, but cracks were showing, and it would not be long.

  What else can we do? Dirk wondered as he shuffled back a step to get just a little more distance between him and the talons that could rip him apart in an instant. Where can we go?

  There was no place to go. As soon as they stepped out of the structure, they would be pounced on and destroyed. Dirk had no desire to end up in the hell of whatever dark god sent these creatures. Maybe if he prayed to the god he had grown up with he might be saved, but he doubted that god would listen to someone who had turned away due to the convenience the power of the godlings of this world gave. No, they were stuck here, at least until the creatures battered their way in.