Refuge: Book 5: Angels & Demons

by Doug Dandridge

  Her mouth opened in a scream, but she concentrated on her fight. Ice came around, held in the three fingers of her hand, and took out the throat of the Ellala who had wounded her. A blade thrust in from behind, a magical weapon that penetrated her enchanted chain and pierced a kidney. If the hand had hurt like hell, this wound hurt like the lowest level of the infernal realms. In a normal human, that would have been a killing wound. With her, it was temporarily incapacitating and she couldn't let it stop her.

  With a scream of agony she spun around, feeling like she was about to collapse during the spin, and with sheer willpower swung Fire into the elf. The magical blade sliced through an armored arm and into his side, cutting through ribs and into a lung. Blood spurted from his mouth, followed by red steam as the fiery blade vaporized his tissues.

  "Get the hell away from me," she yelled, feeling like she could move a little better, though the kidney was still an agonizing distraction. There were three more warriors. There were still the ones below, the group that had fled from her, and she couldn't believe that they hadn't found the resolve to come up here, especially with their leader at risk.

  There were looks of confusion on the faces of the Ellala, and Jackie realized she had been yelling at them in English, a tongue none of them could possibly speak. The confusion didn't last long, and they were soon on the way back in,while the evil Emperor raised his hand to send yet another ball of shimmering force into the beleaguered gold dragon.

  No you don't, thought Jackie, leaping at the monster, ignoring the three Ellala who were all striking at her. She felt one blade slice into her calf, another magical blade that her armor wasn't proof against. A second weapon, a spear, stabbed into her left shoulder, driving deep into her body. Her forward motion ripped the spear out of the Ellala's hands, and she felt herself blacking out from the pain. But she retained enough strength to slice with Fire into the shoulder of the Emperor, her own blade slicing through armor that was resistant to almost any weapons lesser than a god weapon. Fire was almost that powerful, and swung with the strength of her arm it did penetrate into the flesh underneath, which sizzled and spat from the heat.

  Jackie landed on the ground, the spear still in her body, her eyes barely open. The Emperor glared down at her, desperately trying to beat out the flames that were engulfing his overclothes, and possibly his body underneath. He wasn't having any luck, and it was looking like he would meet his end up here on the tower, burned to ash. With a shout and a wave of a hand, he opened a portal to his front and jumped into it, the glowing circle closing behind him. She couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, but she had driven off the undead thing. Possibly killed it. At the very least she had kept it from killing the gold dragon. She shifted and fell over onto her back, relieving some of the pressure of the spear. It wouldn't kill her, but the two elves coming at her with drawn weapons and angry eyes might just take care of that.

  * * *

  Kurt could see bits and pieces of the battle going on at the top of the tower. A glimpse of a fast-moving Jackie, the movements of an Ellala. She seemed to be more than holding her own, but still he worried about her up there by herself. Kurt had not had a lover for many decades, after seeing women he cared about getting old while he stayed young. Jackie was the first he had given his heart to in over thirty years, and she was up there in a death fight, while he was down here, unable to do anything for her.

  He saw her falling forward with something protruding from her form, to strike the Emperor. He could see the flash of fire as her blade struck, the evil creature catching on fire. A glowing portal appeared, and it was gone. He wasn't sure what had happened to it, but it was no longer on the tower, and no longer throwing energy at their ally.

  [You did it,] he sent by mindspeak. Panic rose in his breast as he received no reply but an image of pain, and the sounds of warriors coming closer.

  "Yes," yelled Paul as a loud snap sounded across the field.

  Kurt turned to see the form of the gold dragon rearing up, the red unmoving beneath her feet. She roared to the sky, the sound of celebration of her violent victory.

  "She broke the bastard's neck," said Paul, a smile on his face. "It took her long enough, but she finally weakened him enough to twist the right way."

  "And the demons are leaving us," interjected Ismael, pointing to the sky.

  Sure enough, the red winged creatures were flying off, the angels in pursuit. With their champion destroyed, they faced certain defeat, and were trying to preserve their chances of returning to the mortal world in the future. An angel struck one down from the rear, it falling out of the sky to dissolve on the way to the ground.

  "Looks like the same thing is happening to their big gun," said Levine, walking forward, heading toward the dragons. The red was dissolving away, its hard scales falling under the dissolution of its muscles and flesh. The gold stood over it with a forepaw planted on its neck. She looked to be in rough shape, breathing heavily as she flapped wings that were as much shreds as anything.

  [Help,] came a shout through mindspeak that caught and held all of their attentions. [Help me.]

  * * *

  The Emperor Ellandra Mashara stepped out of the portal, still on fire. The damned flames would not go out, and he was in real danger of destruction. The deep pool of water to his front beckoned, and he took some quick steps and flung himself into the liquid. The flames still burned for ten seconds or so until the water quenched them.

  Mashara climbed out of the pool, the pain from the burns almost overwhelming him. He concentrated on ignoring the pain, something easier for him than most since he was near to being undead. Unfortunately for him, his body wouldn't heal like that of a normal being, and he would have to enact great magics to recover.

  "I am very disappointed in you, Ellandra," spoke a deep voice out of the air, seeming to come from all over the large chamber.

  "That human bitch wounded me sorely," complained the Emperor, shifting his shoulder and trying to get it to move in a normal manner. "Those creatures are unnatural. Can't you snuff all of them out?"

  "This isn't about me, Ellandra," said the angry god. "And no, I have no power over them. It is for you to destroy them in a mechanical manner with normal weapons. And so far, you have not destroyed a one. Do I have to find another champion?"

  "And who can you find besides me, Lord," said the desperate Emperor. If the God decided to pull all of his long accumulated power from him, he could crumble into dust, his spirit awakening to the millennial long torments of Bothar. The very situation he was determined to avoid at all costs.

  "There might be another. In fact, one like these you are having so much trouble with. On the Tarakesh continent."

  "But, aren't they all the servants of the bitch goddess?"

  "They are like others, Ellandra. Some cleave to life, while some are the bringers of death. But I haven't given up on you yet. You are apt to lose the lower city, but you will retain that beyond the secondary wall. And your stronghold. It will be up to you to achieve victory. I will send servants to you to develop new weapons. Do not fail me again."

  The presence of the God was gone, and Ellandra shivered as he thought of what the being could have done to him. He was fortunate. He had another chance. Hhe needed to gather all the energy he could to fuel the transformation. If he could complete the ritual, even the God of Death would have no hold over him.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  "Let 'er rip," yelled Gregor, crouching behind the stone wall of a house across the cobblestone street from the gate.

  Garios said a word of power, pointing a finger at the barrel, then ducking down. A loud bang and the terrific hiss of steam sounded. The wall shook, stone dust fell from the ceiling, and then all was quiet.

  Gregor raised his head, looking at the gate. Steam obscured his vision, and he couldn't tell if the bomb had any effect on the gate. It started to clear as the dwarven priest brought up a freshening breeze. He whooped with joy as he saw that one of the portals was gone,
the other leaning on its one intact hinge.

  "Come on," yelled the Russian. "Our friend needs our help."

  He and Izabella were on their feet in an instant, heading for the bridge. Gregor worried that the small forts might have survived, and the engines might take them under fire. However, nothing moved in the forts, and they got to the opening without incident.

  Some stunned Ellala were trying to pick themselves off the floor, still shocked. Gregor hit the closest one with his hammer, crushing its skull.

  "Follow me," yelled Izabella, giving her companion an angry glare. "Jackie is up there," she screamed when the big Russian didn't move.

  "Get the gate open," said Gregor, looking embarrassed that he hadn't thought of their companion first.

  A gaggle of dwarves headed to the outer door, which had a mechanism that set heavy bolts into walls, ceiling, and floor. It didn't take them long to figure it out, and they withdrew the bolts, and then swung heavy doors that were perfectly balanced and oiled, opening with ease.

  "Get your asses moving," yelled a voice outside the wall.

  The big Russian followed his companion up, coming through the doorway at the top just behind the Polish woman. He recognized Jackie immediately, lying on the roof with a spear shaft sticking out of the shoulder gap in her armor. Izabella was being pressed by a particularly skilled Ellala. He didn't worry about her. Skilled or not, that Ellala was a dead man walking against the female immortal. But the other Ellala was raising a sword as he stood over Jackie, measuring his strike so it would take off her head.

  Gregor leapt forward, his hammer coming around to strike through the downward swinging sword and into the chest of the Ellala. The breath whooshed from the man and his body went flying through the air until he hit the outer wall of the tower. He lay there for a moment, coughing, then spitting up blood, before the last breath shuddered in his chest and he died.

  Jackie also coughed, and blood was dribbling from her lips. She moaned, opened her eyes, and looked up at her rescuer.

  "Can you get this damned thing out of me?" she said in a hiss.

  "It's going to hurt like hell," said Gregor, squatting down and looking at the spear shaft. If it had been anyone other than their kind, it would have been a mortal wound. Even so, if it wasn't removed the wound wouldn't heal, so it had to come out.

  "It already hurts like hell," she said after another cough, "and it's not going to get better where it is."

  "Just pull the damned thing out," said Izabella, coming up on the other side of Jackie. Her sword was still in her hand, dripping the blood of the Ellala she had just dispatched.

  "Here goes," said Gregor, an anxious look on his face. He was not a cruel man. He would kill an enemy in a moment, but hurting a friend was something that wrung the heart from his chest. He grabbed the spear shaft, made sure that he had a good grip on it, and pulled it swiftly but steadily.

  Jackie screamed as the shaft moved, then lost consciousness. Gregor pulled it all of the way out and tossed it aside, then put his hand over the wound, trying to staunch the blood flow. In seconds it had stopped bleeding, something he knew he had had little do with accomplishing.

  Gregor stood up, sure that he had done all he could for his companion. He walked to the edge of the wall and looked down on the battlefield below, his breath hissing out as he saw the piles of dead on that field. Smoke rose from many fires, and the men were starting to gather again into organized units. Junior officers and NCOs were hustling their men toward the now open gate. The Russian knew how shocked those men must be. They had to make sure the capture of the gate was a done deal, so it couldn't be recaptured by counter attack.

  Then his eye caught the enormous gold dragon on the far west end of the field, three small figures he thought must be the other immortals approaching it. As he watched the dragon started to change, to grow smaller, and he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks with him.

  Jackie coughed and he turned away from the vista outside the wall to pay attention to his wounded companion. She was now sitting up, back against the wall, Izabella holding a canteen to her lips. She put down the canteen and looked up at Gregor.

  "Thanks for coming to my rescue, kind sir. I think those Ellala were going to make sure I didn't get away with injuring their Emperor."

  "You got him, then?" asked the Russian, squatting down so he was more on a level with her.

  "I don't think I killed the bastard, no," she said in a weak voice. "I wounded him pretty badly, and when he teleported out of here he was on fire. But I doubt we have seen the last of that son of a bitch."

  "Well, you did something, because we ended up winning the battle down there."

  "Good. Now, I'm really hungry. Could one of you get me something to eat?"

  Gregor was feeling somewhat hungry himself. Their metabolisms burned calories in huge quantities when they were fighting, and Jackie would have to replace damaged tissues and blood. Next thing they knew she was again fast asleep, and she would have to feed on her own body to make repairs for the moment.

  * * *

  Kurt, Ismael and Paul walked up on the goddess slowly, letting her continue her change from dragon to Ellala form. Within minutes, she was a slight Ellala female, supernaturally gorgeous, though now she looked like she had been in a fight. Despite her size and her fatigue, she still radiated divine power, a white glow that dazzled the eyes that looked upon her. Several of the lesser angels flew above her like an honor guard. The others had disappeared, following their enemies back to their homes.

  "Thank you," said Kurt, standing in front of the goddess and bowing his head. "If not for your intervention, we would have lost on this field. And I'm afraid that would have led to our defeat in this war."

  "Arathonia, my queen, sent me to aid you," she said, a smile on her face while she stretched out an obviously injured arm that was on its way to healing. "I really had little choice, and would have preferred to not have gone through that fight with Lukutheris." The smile grew wider. "But, by the honor of my queen, it felt good to feel his vertebrae crushed beneath my teeth, and see his foul soul flee back to the hells of Bothar. But by Arathonia, he left a foul taste in my mouth."

  "And I am sorry about that, my Lady," said Levine, bowing himself. "I thought we would never see you again when you left us in that field on our first day here."

  The goddess frowned, though it did not touch her twinkling eyes. "The coming of your people has certainly changed the balance on this world, much to the chagrin of many of the gods. Many did not like seeing you appear here. Fortunately," she said in her musical voice, her frown flipping to a smile, "the most chagrin is from the gods of evil, those of death."

  She looked directly into the eyes of Kurt, sending a shiver down the German's spine. "Arathonia is pleased with your efforts on her behalf. However, Kurt von Mannerheim, I would caution you to not call upon her name in vain."

  "Will she kill me?" Kurt asked, his own eyes flashing in challenge. He was willing to aid the cause of the goddess. He was no more willing to be a mindless slave to her than he had been to be one to Hitler after he had seen what that man was.

  "No. She would not do such to any of you. It is beyond her, since you are not her worshipers. But those of your people who are her subjects? They are under her control, since they worship her, and are subject to her will after death.

  "And now I must go," said the Messenger Goddess. With a thought, she started to grow again, this time not into a dragon form, but as a giant hominid. Her form achieved gigantic proportions even as it became less solid, transparent, and then nonexistent.

  "I wonder what that meant?" asked Paul, his brow furrowing. "And that veiled threat to our people."

  "She probably wants us to champion her pantheon against all others," said Ismael. "I, for one, don't think that a good idea, since most of our dwarven allies worship in the Pantheon of Law."

  "I don't intend to let her become the only deity of this world," said Kurt in a forceful voice, setting h
is jaw. "If I have my way, we will have religious freedom on this world. Arathonia can have her temples, and so can the gods of Law and Chaos both."

  "What about Bothar?" asked Paul with a sly look at Kurt.

  "That bastard can stay in his hell. If people want to worship him without killing other people, that's fine, but they will not have a house of public worship."

  "And if they sacrifice animals?" asked Levine.

  "No dogs, cats or horses," said Kurt, crossing his arms over his chest. "If they want to sacrifice animals we already kill for food, have at it, as long as they are quick kills."

  "I can go along with all of that," said Levine. "I have sacrificed many animals to Yahweh, but lost my taste for it after living among the bloody-minded Romans."

  Kurt studied his friend for a moment. He sometimes forgot how old the man was and what he had seen. It was telling that he wanted nothing to do with ruling these people, even if it would make the most sense due to his age infused wisdom. Maybe he should be refusing the honor as well. He looked over at Paul, and the idea of the huge and impulsive Brit being in charge seemed insane. Perhaps Izabella, he thought. He would talk to her and see if that was something she would accept.

  "I think the general is trying to get our attention," said Ismael, gesturing to the hill five hundred meters away, where a number of figures were waving their hands in the air, while flags moved up and down and a trumpet blared.

  "Then I guess we should see what he wants," said Kurt with a smile. "Since I'm not king, but only a major general.”

  "And when you are king?" asked Paul, putting an arm around the shoulder of his friend.

  "Then I'll let you hang everyone who displeases me," said Kurt with a laugh.

  His friends laughed with the man they knew would do no such thing.

  * * *

  Jackie sat on top of one of the small forts on the inside of the gate fortress, wolfing down a loaf of bread that had been smeared with honey. She was ravenous, and was thinking about what else she might be able to eat. She had a wine bottle sitting on the roof at her right knee, ready to work again on the thirst that went hand in hand with the hunger.