Gods of Shadow and Flame

by M. H. Johnson

  “Malek! Please help me! I can’t open the portal! How do I open the portal? I need to get out. It’s not safe in here!”

  Malek grimaced. No sound could he utter, he sensed, that would lessen the horror, even as Lilith began her taunting mad laugh. Latif looked up, turning pale as a sheet as he beheld the horrific apparition now ripping him, naked and screaming, from the safe womb of the chamber he had been scurrying to flee.

  And in that instant, his fragile sweet soul buffeted by the terrible winds of the Abyss itself, Latif began to shriek, his flesh boiling horribly, skin burning as it made contact with Lilith's infernal touch, holding him, somehow, in the palm of her hands.

  "Does it please you, Morlekai, to see what happens to those who serve your fruitless cause? For all that you butchered so many of my loyal inquisitors, all under your dear King Richard's nose, you only took notice after my victory was assured! Only when their true duty to me was complete and I gave them leave to strike out at my whore of a daughter, did you even sense their threat! And in the end it was all for naught. May their screams haunt your stained soul for eternity, Fallen angel, for you are no better than me, and still I claimed my prize in the end!" Lilith's rosebud lips wormed into a hideous smile. "How does it feel, Morlekai? To lose everything! Your honor, your vaunted virtue, even your friends. Most especially those who were so foolish as to have faith in you!"

  She laughed then, even as poor Latif continued to wail, his body beginning to crack and pulse under the horrific Abyssal pressures, writhing with awful, unspeakable pain, his scream a long keening wail. “Malek!”

  The one word tore through his soul. Malek screamed. In his panicked fury he felt his dark spirit bursting with the crimson potency. He could sense with sudden brilliant clarity the deepest constructs of the terrible art that were his to command.

  Strands of fiery destruction, deadly coiled wires that could cleave through foes, powerful wards that would shrivel and drain dry any who dared to cross them, and even wards for catching a soul, claiming it as his own. On some desperate level, knowing that his dear friend was doomed, his conscience still clamored for him to do what he could, to try to save that innocent life, no matter what the cost.

  A violent shake. Malek took a deep ragged breath, taking the first step to reabsorb the massive wards he had instinctively spun around the group entire upon first Delving into the depths of Hell, taking that furious, pulsating energy and, far from being crushed under its weight, using it to fuel the aspect of his arts he had learned to use with instinctive grace even upon the living realm, pale echo of his true power that he had access to there.

  With all the power now at his command, he had no doubt he could cleave Lilith's vile hand free of the orb holding Latif's desperately screaming soul, to grab the young healer, little more than a boy, and hold him safe and close. To save him, at least, even as he had failed to save Jacob whose desperate gaze, so like Latif's own, haunted him to this day.

  "No, Malek! Hold your blow. This is but a feint. Her Magi are waiting for any opening. Strengthen your guard, and hold fast!"

  Morlekai's voice. Terrible in its own way, the fierce, brutally practical commands of a leader who understood the true terror and desperation of war, who would never let a moment's weakness lessen his resolve to do what must be done.

  And the horror of it was, his leader was right. It was exactly how Malek himself had trained to fight as a Squire of War, what seemed a lifetime ago. Grimacing, he gazed up at the faceless shadow wraiths floating above. He could sense their cold appraisal of him. Smell the burnt soul stench of the abyssal spell constructs they had at the ready.

  "Malek, please help me! I'm begging you!" Latif shrieked like the boy he almost was, not even twenty summers old, and Malek was forced to listen to the sweet, beautiful healer whom he had sworn to protect die, crying in unspeakable pain as his bones were crushed, limbs twisted and snapped, screaming for his wife as Lilith luxuriated in shattering every part of Latif's shrieking body, her gaze so cruelly mocking, taunting Malek and Morlekai both with her hideous laughter before devouring their friend's very soul.

  "By all the gods, that foul witch will pay!" Alacabar roared, even as Malek shook with the unspeakable horror of what he had been forced to witness. He howled at the enormity of it, the savage injustice of it, forcing himself to gaze inward, to look upon his terrible magics resonating within the dark, fiery depths of his very soul, burning with all the fury of a dying star, ready to erupt in an unspeakable maelstrom of brilliance and power.

  Ready to burn this realm to ash.

  In his fury Malek was struck with terrible inspiration, an epiphany of darkest insight. Even as he choked back a sob, Latif's final screams echoing endlessly within him, Malek twisted his fearsome wards into a construct of brilliant, horrific complexity. It was a web of bitter retribution. A terrible trap for whoever dared to trigger it. A trap that he would refuel each time his blade bit into his foe's monstrous flesh, a magic so terrible that it could drain his very soul – the soul of a blazing sun - if he did not fuel its crimson hunger, once catalyzed.

  Malek howled then, Zweihander unsheathed once more, the undulating blade crackling with an echo of his own crimson fury, and Morlekai’s eyes flashed with approval. He knew that Malek had done what he needed to, channeled his magics all in one terrible knot, needing only a catalyst.

  Shield against arrow, death in return. Now it would all boil down to melee.

  And Lilith, mad queen of Hell, chortled mockingly at the paltry force that dared to oppose her, licking her bloody fingers, savoring the final screams of the fragile soul she had consumed utterly, completely, relishing innocence lost for eternity.

  With her other hand she threw up the second glistening orb, and Malek’s gut lurched in horror, wondering what terrible secrets the silvery ball held trapped within.

  “By the gods, all those children!” Lucienda’s horrified whisper resonated with the awful lurch Malek felt jolt through him, recognizing those screams. He had been tormented with sleepless nights, haunted by dreams, by visions of children trapped in nightmare, begging, pleading for mercy from gloating sadists, for a surcease that never came.

  Voices he now heard once more. And with a terrible clarity the visions within the globe crystallized even as the artifact grew, displaying by some dark art thousands of victims chained in a vast chamber, dark and terrible.

  It was by cruel chance that among the few lost waifs Malek's eyes locked upon before desperately pulling his gaze away was one face he recognized all too well. The girl of light brown hair and eyes that had looked at him with such surprise along with scores of other hopeful children outside that chapter house in Riskordia so desperate for new recruits. So innocent then, her eyes now empty of all save despair, her once pristine flesh marked by cuts, burns, and signs of abuse more horrible still. The child whose ragged cries had so haunted his dreams. He had tried so hard to save that very girl and had failed her utterly, only terrifying her mother, mad raving Delver that he had seemed.

  Malek shook with horror as it all clicked into place. The courtyard full of hopefuls outside the massive hall owned by Lilithon Montid textiles. Of course. It was all in the name. Their enemies mocking them in plain sight, and they hadn't even seen it. Hadn't realized it.

  "Children? They are but chattel!" Lilith mocked. "Sacrificed by my loyal servants in the realm that shall be but the first plane of my conquest. Their pain the sweet wine that soothes my unending hatred for she who betrayed me, and all who dare to stand against me! You were a fool to challenge me when you could have fought beside me, Morlekai, for Erovering is but one nation that has fallen under my sway, and all their conniving and sycophancy means nothing! For all shall fall under the heels of my armies, all shall pay the price for my daughter's folly! Now, Morlekai, have a taste of the might in store for my daughter's pathetic garden! Fight valiantly, fight well, battle with every fiber of your being as you struggle against your own inevitable demise, and when your wounds are su
ch that you can no longer stand, when your will finally breaks against the futility of your struggle, when you are naught but broken wretches yielding yourselves to me... then, only then, will my victory be complete as I feast upon the rich torment of your souls for endless eons, even as I burn your pathetic hovel of a realm to bile and ash!"

  Morlekai and Malek roared their defiance as one, Alacabar and Lucienda who understood not a word yet understood that a battle was to take place for what seemed the fate of a thousand souls roared their fierce support, ready and willing to take on their foes, to fight the final battle, desperate and dire as it seemed.

  “We fight not just for the children, but for the sake of our realm itself!” Malek cried out, even as he gathered himself, blade held at the ready, waiting for the moment to strike, as his enemies began to pound their mad way across the massive stone bridge over the chasm of liquid fire that separated them.

  And in that moment as sometimes happens when one looks into the very jaws of death, a sudden epiphany came to him. A flash of terrible understanding, resonating with brilliant clarity. Fiercely, he gripped the gauntlet underneath which his shieldsister had blessed him with a lock of hair, crimson and gold, wound lovingly about his finger. “Jess, if you can sense this, ward our home! Will every scrap of our past obliterated. Break the bond between lilith and yourself! The links of blood void all protections and wardings!”

  Grimacing as the ground shook with the pounding of his enemies, nodding as Morlekai roared for them to ready their weapons and charge at his mark, Malek shouted one last time with every fiber of his being. "I love you, Jess! You are my shieldsister and the love of my life, through all the turnings of the great wheel. Now lock our garden from all foes who would take it from you! Break all connections to all other realms, so none may ever harm those we love again! Leave your Hound to fight this final battle without you. Farewell."

  With those final words echoing endlessly into the ether, and a terrible grin from their leader, it was done. Lilith could snarl her threats and shriek her outrage all she liked, but Malek had howled his warning to the Heavens, and not even her vile magics could stop his shout.

  “You did well, Hound,” Morlekai said softly, a final shared moment of exquisite understanding, both loving and willing to die for their home, for the woman they adored even as they faced death itself, the legions of Hell at last upon them.

  "The final battle calls! Come, my friends, let us give them cause to rue this day!" And with a terrible roar, Morlekai led the charge, all four of them racing forward to crash into the massive army of hideous foulness even at that moment howling for their blood.

  47

  And instantly, all became utter madness. Hideous bellows of inhuman monstrosities whipping forward with giant scaled tentacles slamming down upon the rocky ground with such force stone cracked and Malek knew any mortal knight should have been instantly crushed, were instead parried and sliced through effortlessly by Morlekai even as Malek's terrible serpentine blade cleaved deep into the hideous beast before him with a blazing fast Zornhau strike, tearing a fierce gash into the hideous monstrosity, shattering like eggshells the thick protective scales of hardened metal covering the beast.

  His blade began to glow a brilliant crimson as it drank down the Fallen demon's essence, entrails shriveling to dust smelling of rot and burnt souls even as the massive abomination writhed and died, Malek instantly spinning away to face yet another horror as their foes howled and attacked in unison.

  Linked within the bowels of Hell as never before, all four Delvers weaved and dodged, sliced and hewed in perfect, deadly concert.

  Alacabar and Lucienda's Shadowforged shields parried blows that would have shattered boulders, grimacing only slightly from the force of the strikes hammering into them, even as Malek and Morlekai's blades wove a deadly dance of death; cleaving through their demonic foes with a terrible ease that spoke of the dire nature of their artifacts, and the monstrous nature of their wielders, every last shred of humanity falling away underneath the cauldron of fiercest combat, burning free every last trace of mortal frailty, leaving behind only beings of darkest Shadow and fiercest will, radiating powers both divine and ancient as they dodged killing blows, weaving about in an endless series of hideously potent strikes, lashing out at any opening, their every parry linked to fiercest counterblow, tearing through the legions of Hell before them like a paladin's sword blazing through foulest rot.

  Moments stretched endlessly, time itself seeming to slow the more furiously they fought, their frames so infused with Shadow and darkness that they began to resonate with the unholy power of the vile monstrosities they had slain. The horrors vanquished since Malek had first joined his midnight crew; all their accomplishments, all the hideous apparitions they had devoured in darkest dream, but a fraction of what they now faced in wave after wave as the battle raged on.

  And of a sudden, a brief respite. A single word had echoed across the blood-drenched battlefield that had caused the vast horde of cursed monstrosities to cease their mad assault, gazing with silent hate at the Delvers that dared take arms against them.

  A bloody battlefield indeed, Malek thought, spattered as it was with the oozing carcasses of scores of foes, already fetid with the foul stench of rot and decay. But not for long, Malek thought with bleak satisfaction as every last drop of blood and ichor flowed toward him, forming into a crimson suit of armor even as his foes, utterly desiccated, shriveled to dust, blowing away instantly under the roaring Abyssal winds.

  His bloodmagics manifested their ultimate martial form, sheathing him in crimson armaments supremely flexible, resistant to the sharpest blade, the vilest magics, for so long as he could hold it. He smiled grimly at the thought, feeling the horrific power from that hellish place and downed foes alike pounding through his agonized soul. He had no doubt he could hold his bloodwards in place, armor and arcane traps alike, through a thousand battles, till he eventually fell.

  A quick glance to a grimly glaring Morlekai. "Focus, Hound. Do not trust the respite!" Were his only words, even as Lucienda and Alacabar panted, as exhilarated as Malek had ever seen them, smiles ready to revel in fiercest combat once more, though their eyes were glassy with illness and pain. Alacabar held fast, even though his very entrails were spurting from his hand. Lucienda's skull was cracked. Malek feared his battlesister's brains being exposed to the shrieking winds of the Abyssal Hells, Delver's shadowy strength or no. He could smell sickly death creeping upon them even now; the hideous, diabolical wounds they had suffered that not even their Midnight Delver's vitality could completely burn away. Not without collapsing, not with just moments to spare. He sensed in that instant how strangely fragile both of them were. Without thinking, he flooded them with his crimson magics.

  Both collapsed screaming, even as Lilith laughed.

  “Hound! Angel's mercy, what do you do?”

  Malek grimaced, having acted purely by reflex.

  “By goddess’s green light!” Alacabar cursed softly, shuddering with relief, his terrible gut wound sealed with a crimson seam.

  Lucienda gasped and shook, her cracked skull suddenly whole once more with a crimson streak to formerly perfect, silky blond hair. Her beautiful gray eye was now matched by one of crimson, but her grateful smile made it clear the changes, had she noticed, bothered her not at all. Her vitality and vigor returned were all that mattered in the hellish moments to come.

  “We hold nothing back in this battle,” Malek said softly, realizing how utterly true his words were, even as flashes of memory and understanding from what he was chillingly certain were past lives continued to pound through him, as they had since he had first entered that city of impossible beauty, that ancient dream upon an endless wooded plateau, what now seemed like a lifetime ago. Teaching him things by reflex, tricks with his blood magic he had never known were possible.

  Yet the mad queen of Hell who had aligned a sea of Fallen and their wretched slaves for the conquest of entire worlds did nothing duri
ng their momentary distraction save caress a single covered prize. If anything, her gaze was one of dark amusement, even as her hideously sensual voice resonated through the vast, cratered landscape of lifeless rock and shrieking winds. The cries of endless souls and their torments, forever howling through the ether. "Are you enjoying the respite, dear Morlekai? Savor it! I feared you falling too soon, perishing under the might of my endless legions, and did not want you to perish quite yet. Not before you witnessed my greatest triumph!"

  With that, eyes glimmering with a fierce hate focused squarely upon the sullied angel who dared to oppose those who were truly damned, Lilith revealed with a howl of triumph a horn that glowed with a terrible golden brilliance, shining like the noonday sun.

  Despite the unspeakable horror of it, Malek felt his lips part into an involuntary smile at the golden light emanating from the divine artifact, even as the infernal legion hissed and smoked under the heavenly light, even as his heart screamed to see such a foul abomination caress something so divine. So pure. Not to be sullied by the likes of her

  Laughing in mad triumph, all eyes upon her, Lilith chose that moment to blow the horn.

  48

  "No!" Morlekai's cry of despair was a terrible contrast to the pure, glorious note seeming to hover endlessly in the dark Abyssal air, even as the sound caused the countless legions of horned and scaled monstrosities assembled upon the vast, shattered plains to scream and gibber, acid spewing tentacles lashing, twisted talons clawing into the very stone. Malek's gasp of awe became one of horror as the horn's pristine note burned away the endless brooding storm clouds overhead.

  The harsh blazing stars above that had seemed so dim now glared with a malevolent hostility. Malek hated them on sight.

  Yet what was far more abhorrent was the unveiling of massive sailing fortresses hovering high above. Like giant moons against the twisted, bleeding skies. The hideous fortresses opened awful eyes dripping maggots and blood, gazing down as one upon the terrible artifact that had rung its clarion call in such a vile place.