Witch Hunt

by L R Deney

  So that’s why he was less than pleased to see the Azramoas City Watch wander into his establishment, looking as though they meant business in their black plate armor and purple robes. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked toward the door. The bar was silent save for the jukebox playing in the background.

  “Can I help you?” asked Grithnak, while rubbing down a mug.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact you can,” replied one of the wizard cops.

  “And how may I do that?”

  “By cooperating and shutting down this bar.”

  Grithnak looked up at them, his frown deepening. “I beg your pardon?”

  “By decree of the Speaker of the Council, all alcoholic establishments in the slums are to be shut down.” The watchman raised a piece of paper in front of Grithnak’s face that was a notice signed by the new Speaker himself.

  “I see the Speaker hasn’t been wasting any time. That’s a lot of words there, buddy, I’m just a simple orc. Whatever the fuck why?”

  “Watch your language! All alcoholic establishments are being shut down due to an ongoing investigation into the whereabouts of the traitor, Staci Drenvauder. Evidence suggests she has received help from… ahem… citizens in the slums.”

  The clearing of the officer’s throat indicated that he didn’t really think of the people who lived in the slums as “citizens.”

  “Can I see this evidence?”

  “No. Now, you can either cooperate and shut down this rat hole, or we will use force.”

  “Force it is then!” cried a centaur that crashed through the watchmen, and knocked back a few with his hooves.

  Grithnak had to roll his eyes at the stupid display, but there was little he could do about it now as the bar broke out in a brawl with his patrons fighting the cops. One of those pigs came up to him and grabbed him forcefully by the shirt over the counter and breathed into his face.

  “Make them stop!”

  “Sorry, bacon boy, I don’t tell them what to do, you’re the ones who want to shut down their favorite watering hole,” the orc retorted before prying the cop’s hand off of him before punching him away. “Now know one thing.” He leapt over the counter. “Don’t ever fucking touch me.”

  Pandemonium surrounded him as the slum’s citizens fought the Azramoas City Watch, his own fists repeatedly meeting with the face of the officer who tried to manhandle him. Left and right, left and right, uppercut, and a hand tearing off that ridiculous black helmet before grabbing the man by his hair and ramming his face into the jukebox. Repeatedly. Grithnak could always buy a new jukebox; the cop on the other hand couldn’t buy a new face.

  But that was when more City Watch started pouring into the bar, waving their staves to beat down anything that moved. Grithnak found himself being hammered to the ground by invisible force. The watchmen would have wanted that to be the end of it, neutralizing the bar’s residents and leading each of them out in collars and cuffs, but it wasn’t.

  Similar incidents erupted elsewhere at other establishments in the slums, and before the Azramoas City Watch and the Council of Magic knew it, the entire district was swallowed by riots. The city government had poked at a sleeping, frustrated giant and got back more than it could chew. The entirety of the slums had to be cordoned off from the rest of the city as the City Watch tried to bring it back under control.

  Chapter 14

  Speaker Friedrich Fromm was a busy ruler today. He now stood in the Foundry, the pocket dimension that served as Azramoas’ factory for artifacts. All manner of objects imbued with magic were crafted here, ranging from things like the pain staves of the City Watch to the golem army that now stood before him. Several of the ranking officers that would be controlling this golem army stood gathered nearby.

  Colonel Rebecca Zenn stood at attention with the rest of the officers, their red and black armored uniforms—interestingly more modern in appearance than the Watch’s uniforms—mirrored their new Speaker’s banners which he was fond of hanging everywhere. He didn’t look like much, young (potentially idealistic), long raven hair, dark eyes, pale. She was mostly unimpressed, but she waited to hear what he had to say.

  “Thank you for allowing me this time,” Fromm said, mostly talking to the officers gathered, as the golems were non-sentient, even though they looked like people. “I have us gathered here because this is a momentous occasion for Azramoas, for it is our first war in roughly… seventy years? No matter, now we are up against a terrible and powerful force.

  “They struck first!” Fromm slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. “But we shall strike back. Our enemy spans across a great territory in Hell, constantly expanding its borders. We can use that to our advantage by hitting them while they’re distracted with another Hellish realm. Our generals have the details on that.

  “I am fully confident in your abilities to lead our forces into this terrible land. You have over forty-thousand golems at your disposal, with more being forged here every day. Kadmon will not know what hit her, and I hope to see her brought before me—err, the Council in chains and tears of defeat. Take our army to victory and bring us freedom from this lingering threat.”

  Pompous too, thought Colonel Zenn. The man was full of himself, even his slip proved that. He didn’t see himself as a mere Speaker, but some kind of grand hero who would be king. She decided she didn’t like him.

  “Tyranny is not to be tolerated.” Oh gods, he was going on still. “And we shall cleanse this multiverse of the tyrant Kadmon and her crony, Staci Drenvauder, both. I have long held the principles of Azramoas, the principles of freedom from tyranny, religious or otherwise. We are a city of freedom and prosperity!”

  Her colleagues cheered in unison at those words, so she mustered a half-hearted one. Did this guy even listen to himself? No leader believed in those principles, they just told her where to go, what to fight, and she killed it.

  “So I ask of you, Azramoas’ finest, to go forth and extinguish the threat to our freedom, to our democracy.” Wow, this guy talked a lot. “We will not live in fear; we will not allow ourselves to be oppressed again, we will fight back. No matter the act of intimidation, no matter the odds, we will persevere.”

  More cheering, go figure.

  “Right now, Kadmon is probably sitting in her palace, caring little about the demons she sends into the slaughter. All she cares about is power, her love of it, her lust of it. Well, I’ll tell you what I care about. I care about you, I care about our citizens, I care about their safety, and I care about protecting them from the things that threaten that.

  “So show them, my friends, that you don’t intend to allow them to. Keep our people safe, protected, secure, knowing that when they go to sleep at night, demons will not crawl into their homes and claim their lives. The threat shall end after you neutralize it for good. We will not cower.

  “Again, I thank you for listening to me talk; hopefully my words have been rousing and inspirational for you. I remain proud of you, willing to put your lives on the line to keep Azramoas safe. I am absolutely certain of my confidence in you.

  “To victory!”

  “To victory!” the officers echoed in unison, the golems standing silent in the background.

  That was when Speaker Fromm handed off the podium to General Ottenwald. Salt and pepper hair, cold steel blue eyes, several scars that were visible, the general was an experienced battle mage. Zenn held a lot of respect for him. A lot more than she could say for their new Speaker.

  “Yes, as our Speaker so illustriously puts it, we are at war,” General Ottenwald began, following a clearing of his throat. “It’s imperative to ensure that we have the upper hand against our enemy. That is why we have developed a cunning strategy to keep the enemy the one on the defense.

  “As the Speaker stated, the Empire of Luciferion—now, now, no laughter—is exceedingly expansionist. It wages war on its neighbors constantly it seems, and annexes them when it wins. That’s where our strategy for our campaign comes
in. We’ll hit them where they’re least defended as a result of their troops in the area being embroiled in one of their invasions of their neighbors. It’s possible that we could reach out to enemy factions and try to organize a joint assault.”

  Another officer raised his hand and the general pointed to him. “Yes, um… isn’t consorting with demons illegal?”

  Speaker Fromm was seen nodding, but allowed the general to speak. Some high level hypocrisy was about to take place here.

  “Yes, that’s true,” replied the general. “The matter of the fact is, however, we may need allies if this campaign is to withstand such a powerful enemy. That is a future possibility and not a priority. No treaties or diabolic bargains would be suggested, just uniting against a common foe. The Speaker has already granted leeway on this possibility.”

  Speaker Fromm nodded again, still remaining quiet.

  The general went on with potential formations he’d want to see on the field of battle once the invasion was started. He began assigning each officer a different theater of war soon after. He had summoned up a map composed of pure energy to show the layouts he had been discussing throughout his battle plans. Luciferion appeared a lot larger than she had expected. Apparently Kadmon was a busy empress.

  “Colonel Zenn,” the general called as he finally reached her, “you’ll be down here near Luciferion’s border with Scathus. Scathus is currently receiving the most assault from Kadmon’s forces, and it would be prudent to scout around and figure out if our proposed tactics there will be practical at all. If not, you have the freedom to act as you see fit. Understood?”

  “Perfectly, sir,” Zenn answered. No way would she dare disappoint General Ottenwald.

  “Excellent,” he said and moved onto the next officer.

  It took the general a while to get through each of the battle plans and assignments for the officers. Once he was finished, he dismissed the gathered officers, the man exchanging salutes with his subordinates. The officers dispersed to collect their command teams and the legion of golems that they’d be controlling.

  Zenn wound up in charge of three-thousand golems, one of the largest detachments that would be sent out. Her command team was prompt and ready upon arrival. Among them there was a perky blonde named Smiths, a rather bland, spectacled young man named McCarlo, and a large brute of a man named Sampson. It was like she got assigned an array of clichés, although the others were pretty standard and nondescript compared to these three.

  “So you’re my command team, eh?” inquired Zenn.

  “Yes, ma’am!” responded the full group.

  “Well met then, I’m Colonel Rebecca Zenn. I’m the commanding officer of this entire legion. When I say, ‘make a fireball,’ you ask, ‘how big, ma’am?’ We’re not going to Hell to play around. The honor and freedom of our city is dependent on us. Hell’s an awfully dangerous place, the inhabitants more than willing to tear you to ribbons and steal your soul.” She turned her back to them. “Neverthless, I am confident of your abilities, otherwise you would never have been assigned to me. Don’t disappoint me.”

  Her eyes shifted toward the lines of golems being called upon to depart with their command teams. While it had been seven decades since the last war Azramoas was involved in, it was a lot longer ago that it fought one on this scale. Tens of thousands of golems, it was a lot, but would it be enough? Golems by their design were extremely durable, but demons were formidable and varied creatures.

  “All right,” she said, “it’s time to move out. Delta Legion, move out.”

  In instant response, the entirety of three-thousand golems came to life and began marching to Zenn’s direction. It was strange, seeing that many, almost identical men, moving toward her. It just caused chills to go up and down her spine at the uncanny nature of it all. This was going to be an interesting experience for her.

  ◆◆◆

  Leaving Azramoas was an interesting affair. Each way out of the extradimensional city was anchored to somewhere on Earth. Leaving one of those anchors with thousands of golems each was no simple matter. They literally had to use the most isolated anchor points that the city possessed to move inconspicuously through the mundane world, and one that was close to a portal that led to Hell.

  Fortunately there were a few places like that in the world, one of which was Death Valley in California. Miles and miles of hot wasteland would help with keeping such a large force hidden from prying, mundane eyes. And naturally, there was a literal portal to Hell just fifteen miles from the anchor in the slope of a mountain range. Demons liked to haunt the area and collect the souls of poor, hapless folks who got lost and died out here.

  Colonel Zenn’s legion was one of those that came through this avenue. To fight off the harsh temperatures, her officers cast cooling spells around themselves to handle the trip. Naturally, being artificial, the golems couldn’t feel anything and were unbothered by the sun’s heat. Just on they went, trailing behind the command team.

  Eventually they reached the portal to Hell, having to climb the slope a bit past rocks and debris littering the ground around them. The portal was nestled in a cave about a mile up the shoulder of the mountain, out of sight of anyone foolish enough to wander out here alone.

  Zenn commanded her legion to stand by while another marched in through before hers. It took a while, so she was thankful for spells that could moderate bodily temperature. Eventually the other legion passed through the portal completely and she led hers to follow. The interior of the cave was dark enough that she had to summon forth a ball of light to hover over her shoulder to see anything at all. Ahead, against the cave wall to the right, was a small, telltale shimmer of a portal that could be easily missed if you didn’t know what you were looking for. Fortunately, they did.

  She took a few deep breaths before stepping forward and through the portal. What she emerged from was unexpected. The area looked like it was amidst an industrial district. Surrounding her was not only the legion that headed through before hers, but numerous warehouses, a couple factories off in the distance, spiked chain link fences, and a red, blazing sky.

  Literally blazing red, as the flames were very clear in their appearance.

  What the fuck? How does that even work?

  She shook her head, barely able to even process what she was seeing while her legion passed through the portal behind her. The other marched off to the west, toward what looked like a modern city, albeit sporting Gothic motifs she would have expected from this world. She remembered that where she wanted to go was east of here, several miles to the border.

  But the appearance of the city definitely threw her off; she had never expected something so modern in Hell. Then again, she had never been to Hell before, nor knew much about it. She had been expecting something more Medieval in appearance, something more backward culturally. To see something so unexpected made her worried of what other surprises she might find.

  “Oh wow, the sky is on fire!” exclaimed First Lieutenant Smiths. “How does that work?”

  Zenn looked to the woman and cringed. To have her thoughts echoed out loud by that one was a bit worrying for her state of mind. Then again, Smiths was certain to be a very competent officer, it was just the hyperactive personality that put her off a bit.

  “It’s Hell, it has rules of its own,” she responded to the younger officer. “Anyway, less sightseeing, as soon as the legion’s through, we’re heading out of here.”

  They waited there for a while until the last of the golems came through the portal. The automatons then lined up and waited for further orders from the command team. Colonel Zenn promptly gave those orders, and the entire legion marched toward the east. She had expected rough terrain, but was thankful that it was actually paved for most of the way.

  Eventually the warehouses and factories started giving way to something that looked more residential and suburban, albeit with extremely Gothic overtones. No, not subtle enough to be undertones, they were straight up Gothic dream hous
es. And to add to the fact that they were not on any earthly realm anymore, the trees that grew in the area were highly unusual and terrifying to behold, some of them actually moving.

  I really don’t like this place, she thought, while struggling to maintain her composure despite every human instinct to flee.

  “All right, I think we’re near the border between Luciferion and Scathus, as this city wasn’t supposed to be very far from here,” she said, examining the suburban area. “Hmm… looks deserted out here, but I want the area searched in any case. Something doesn’t sit well with me here.”

  So while the bulk of the golem army remained standing and “alert” in the main thoroughfare, her command team led divisions of the artifacts through the demonic, suburban neighborhood. At first it didn’t seem like they were finding anything, but it was hard to imagine a place like this existing in Hell in the first place. Zenn really had been expecting more chains and pits of fire.

  But then that’s when the ambush came and everything went to… yeah… it needed no mentioning since they were there. Demons swooped out of the burning sky and leapt from the thicker thickets of trees, cackling and growling as they tackled some of the officers and golems, slashing and biting with their natural weapons.

  “Fuck! It’s a trap!” cried Colonel Zenn as she conjured a few bolts of destructive energy towards the enemy. “Form defensive lines now! Take down those demons.”

  The golems moved into a sort of a counterassault line, facing out and collided with the oncoming enemy, slamming their fists into the vile creatures. Her command team tried their best to rally back to her position, but some of them were dogpiled and slashed to ribbons, spraying blood outward while the demons crushed their bones and tore out internal organs and entrails.

  Major Sampson was doing well for a while as he fired red darts into the demons closing around his detachment of golems. He almost made it back to Zenn’s position when he was overwhelmed and the demons started slashing into his armored tactical wear and ultimately his vulnerable flesh. The last Zenn saw of the large man was a demon tearing his head off, spine attached, and danced around with it like a macabre trophy.