Legacies

by Patrick Stewart

  The eyes.

  Hell Horses simply had balls for eyes. They had no pupil, no iris. Just a ball. Sometimes it was black, to match their skin, other times it was white, or red. Whatever colour it was, it inspired fear in humans, spooked the fuck out of them.

  “What the fuck is that?” Cassie muttered.

  “A Hell Horse,” Martial replied.

  “Holy Lucifer…” came her response.

  With Legacies having better eyesight, Cassie spotted the Hell Horse before most of the others. In about fifteen to twenty seconds, every man and woman on the walls would say something similar. Martial hoped that was all they did, express their fears through words. If one turned and ran, it could have a knock-on effect.

  Thankfully, none on the wall fled in terror at the approaching demon on a Hell Horse.

  The demon road up to the wall. Dressed in a black hooded cloak, he pulled the hood back to reveal red skin, yellow eyes, and three horns on his head. He was a tall demon, at least six and a half feet in height.

  But Martial feared that wasn’t his truest form.

  Some demons, the more powerful ones, they could grow in size, some even had powers of sorts. This demon, Martial could sense power that surrounded it, akin to the one he had battled in Coldstream.

  “My name is Jorrah. I lead this army of demons. We are here to take what is ours by right. God has fallen, the Archangels have fallen, your saviour Lucifer is no more. Our Lord Satan still persists, and in his name, I am here to take what is ours. I am here for the souls of your wicked.”

  “As is the way of old, I challenge you to send your best to duel me in single combat, to the death. If you win, the demons will leave, to never return to this town. If I win, you will open your gates and welcome death.”

  “Can’t we just fire an arrow into his head?” Cassie whispered in his ear.

  Martial shook his head. Despite how evil they were, demons had a sort of code. A duel to the death to decide the winner. It saved countless lives. Martial had used it many times to turn the tide in a battle, in the war even.

  “If word gets out that we shoot messengers, or challengers on sight, then demons will stop offering to settle battles with duels. They would do the same to us when we approached them. Think back to Coldstream,” he told her. “If the demon hadn’t agreed to duel me, we could have done little to stop his army from razing Coldstream to the ground.”

  Cassie nodded in understanding. “Are you going to duel him?”

  It would have been the ideal situation, and a perfect solution to their problem. The demons were stronger in numbers, better trained, stronger physically. Sure, the humans had a few Legacies in their ranks, but Martial knew it wasn’t enough.

  A duel would have been a perfect way to settle this, but Martial feared he would not win if he stepped down to battle him. Not in the condition he was currently in, his body still weak, every muscle hurting, the slightest movement causing pain to shoot to his head.

  “Let me do it,” Cassie said, apparently reading him really well.

  “No,” Martial shook his head.

  “I can do it,” Cassie insisted.

  “He’s a powerful demon. He will grow in size before he battles. He’s going to be fast, strong. He might even have powers.”

  “How can you know that?” Cassie asked, doubt in her voice as she looked down at the demon.

  “I can sense it,” Martial replied. At first, he thought every Legacy, every Immortal could sense the power of a demon. But he realised it was a talent unique to himself. “He’s the strongest demon I’ve come across in a long time.”

  “I can do it,” Cassie insisted. “I’ve been working hard for over a month now, pushing myself every day. I can defeat him.”

  “And what if you lose?” Martial asked. “You die. And so does everyone else in this town.”

  “You need to believe in me,” Cassie said, hurt in her voice.

  Martial pulled her close and kissed her on the lips. “I do believe in you,” he whispered. “But we only duel to the death when we have no other option, when it is our only choice, when we are at our weakest. Or, we duel when we know we will win.”

  “Neither is the case here. There is no certainty you can win, and we do have other options. It will take them time to breach the walls. Time for me to recover, to think of a way out of this.”

  “A way out?” Cassie asked, doubt in her voice.

  “We’ve sent messengers out to the nearest towns. If they can send some support, we can survive this.”

  Martial didn’t have his hopes hinged on getting support from the surrounding towns. He wondered if they would even believe the messenger, were it able to reach them with the news. Learmouth wasn’t near the borders. How and where had an army of demons managed to slip past to attack Learmouth?

  And if they did believe the stories, that demons had appeared from newly opened portals, it would give them even less reason to send support. They would keep their troops behind their own walls in case portals opened near them and demons poured out.

  “What is your answer?” Jorrah the demon roared.

  “It’s a kind offer,” Martial said, his voice calm, but somehow carried by the wind with equal ferocity. “But we’re going to give it a miss for now.”

  “There is none amongst you that has the guts to face me?” Jorrah asked, genuine disappointment written across his face. “You are all cowards?”

  “There’s plenty here that are willing to fight you. It’s just not the right day for a duel. The weather, I dunno,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I also just had a cup of tea earlier so…”

  “I don’t understand,” came the response.

  “It’s a Lucifer thing.”

  “Lucifer is dead.”

  “But is he though?”

  The demon’s eyes narrowed. “You’re mocking me.”

  “Waaaaat? No way man. Big scary fella like you. I wouldn’t have the guts,” Martial said. “I tell you what, how about tomorrow evening, just before the sun sets, you and I do this duel thing?”

  His main hope lay with himself. If only he could recover his strength, it might be enough to tip the scales in their favour.

  “You will die long before the day is over,” the demon said.

  He turned and began to ride back on his Hell Horse, his black cloak floating in the wind, his head sticking out, three horns on it, his skin red, the demon looked every part the Lord of Hell.

  “Can we shoot him now?” Cassie asked.

  It wasn’t a bad idea. It wasn’t like they had anything to lose. But it just didn’t seem right.

  Chapter 39

  John had left behind Learmouth half a day ago. He’d ridden his horse hard and as the town and its walls disappeared, he split up with Mark, Calvin and Jean. The four of them set off in different directions.

  John was headed towards Branxton, a town two days journey away.

  Things started well. They had slipped past the demon army. The hard part done; it should have been smooth sailing.

  But it was far from that.

  John was afraid.

  His heart thumped in his chest as he ran as fast as he could.

  His horse was dead, killed by what could only be described as Hell Hounds. Fearsome two-headed dogs the size of a fucking horse. John had fallen off his horse as the hounds devoured his stallion. He ran as fast as he could, as he heard his horse wail, as he heard the hounds bite and growl, tearing the poor beast into bits while it still lived.

  That was going to happen to him soon if he didn’t get away.

  So John ran as fast as he could. His only hope was to pass the fields and reach the forest, where he hoped he could hide, or climb a tree and cling on for life.

  His heart thumped so loudly in his chest, it almost blocked out the cries of his horse.

  Almost.

  Except, the horse was no longer wailing.

  John didn’t want to look back. The trees were so close. Another couple of minutes, and h
e could begin climbing one.

  But his legs were worn out, his chest about to explode. He was struggling to continue. John turned to look back. And as he did, he tripped on his own legs and hit the hard ground.

  As he rolled back, so close to the trees, John thought of Maria. He’d had a crush on the girl since forever. He wanted so badly to tell her as much, but he couldn’t muster up the courage.

  And now, she would never know.

  He would never know either if she liked him back.

  John closed his eyes as the Hell Hounds pounced, as they came down on him, jaws open, terrifying teeth closing around his flesh.

  * * *

  Mark was glad to be rid of Learmouth Town. He never liked the place much. Growing up, the other children had bullied him on account of his weight. Called him names, poked him with sticks that became metal objects as they grew older – fire pokers, shovels, pitchforks, even a blunt sword.

  Fat Mark, they called him. It wasn’t even creative. All they did was add the word fat before his name. And they laughed, like it was so fucking original. He hated them.

  And now, they’d chosen him to run for help. Oh, the irony, sending the fat guy to run for help. Except, Mark wasn’t fat anymore. He hadn’t been fat for years now. He’d lost the weight.

  But he hadn’t lost the nickname, or the cruelty that came with it.

  Mark had never seen a demon before today.

  They were as scary in real life as they were when told in tales. Beasts with black skin, blue skin, red skin, horns on their heads, riding on horses that were the size of elephants, horses that had two heads. They were here to devour the souls of the damned.

  The damned being those that had guilty consciences.

  Everyone knew this.

  When you died, two faces appeared, one on either side of you. And they asked, do you have a guilty conscience?

  They didn’t need an answer.

  If the person had a guilty conscience, if they thought they had done wrong to someone, if they had guilt, that thought would weigh heavy. It would drag the soul down, sink it into the ground. And when it emerged on the other side, Hell would be waiting.

  Despite knowing this, the assholes in the town had made his life as miserable as possible.

  They were going to die tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after. They would die at the hands of demons. And when they died, the two faces would ask them if they had a clear conscience. And then, their guilt at making his life a living hell, it would drag them down, where more demons would await to torture them for all eternity.

  Mark had left behind the town, and the demons. His horse trotted down the path at a comfortable pace. He wasn’t in a hurry. Sure, he would head to the next town, but it wouldn’t matter. No one in their right mind in this area would dare send their own very precious soldiers out to save another town, not when demons were literally pouring out of the ground.

  No, everyone in Learmouth was as good as dead.

  Mark had left behind the fields and was now trotting along a narrow path between low hills with lush greenery on one side. There was a beautiful lake on the other side with crystal clear water.

  Pulling gently, Mark reigned his horse, bring it to a stop, he dismounted. Taking his boots off, he sat on the bank of the lake and dipped his feet in the cool water.

  He hated that fucking town. He wondered why he’d waited for a fucking demon army before he decided to leave. It was Fordstone he was now headed for. Mark had never been there before, but it seemed like a good town for a fresh start. He could reinvent himself, change his name perhaps.

  As Mark sat on the bank by the lake, his mind wandering, thinking of his new life in Fordstone, he didn’t hear the nervous whines coming from his horse. He didn’t hear the heavy steps on the ground, didn’t see the demon walking up behind him, sword drawn.

  His last thought, before his neck was sliced off clean, was of Jenna, the girl who had been his friend when they were young, the girl who had been fat, but after having lost the fat, had suddenly become popular. She’d deserted him. Now, in a way, he was deserting her. And she deserved it.

  As sword cut through his neck, as his head hit the ground, Mark felt a whoosh as his soul rose up, leaving his body on the ground.

  And then, two faces appeared, one to his left, the other to his right.

  “Do you have a clean conscience?” they asked.

  “I do,” Mark said. “I have a clear conscience. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Despite his words, Mark felt his soul begin to fall. And then, the ground opened up, a large black hole appeared. A black hole circled by a ring of fire.

  “I’m innocent,” Mark cried out.

  But his words mattered littler as his soul sank into the ground, as it kept sinking, heading towards Hell.

  Chapter 40

  The battle had begun.

  After riding back, Jorrah wasted no time in launching an attack.

  It was brutal.

  The wall around Learmouth served little purpose when it came to holding back the demons.

  They rode on their Hell Horses, hundreds of them, Jorrah amongst the pack, rising a dust storm in their wake. It looked truly hellish.

  As they came within reach, Learmouth’s finest fired their arrows.

  They weren’t very fine.

  Cassie counted four demons hitting the ground. And four because two tumbled over one that had fallen before them.

  As the demons came within reach of the wall, they didn’t use ladders to climb it. They didn’t have ladders with them to start with. And, they didn’t need the ladders. They simply jumped off their horses.

  A few crashed against the merlons and fell back down.

  Only a few.

  The rest landed on the walkway.

  It was brutal.

  The men and women of Learmouth, standing on the wall, their bodies trembling as the demons approached, terrified out of their minds, they did well to not drop their armour, their weapons, and flee.

  When the demons landed beside them on the wall, standing big and tall, horns poking out of their heads, baring sharp shark like teeth as they roared, the humans didn’t freeze. They struck with their swords, jabbed with their spears.

  But the demons were strong. And they were skilled. When they struck with their swords, it was more like being hit by a large club being wielded by a fucking bear.

  The humans were knocked off the wall, flung aside like ragdolls.

  The only thing that kept the fighting continuing, not having it end within minutes were the Legacies. They whipped into action, fighting only the way Legacies could fight.

  Cassie whirled about, slicing with her sword, cutting through demon flesh, kicking, pushing, punching, whatever worked in the moment. Her light armour kept her agile, and she owned her spot on the wall.

  As she ducked under one blade, rolled on the walkway, ducking under another, she drove her sword into the demon’s back. As she turned and pulled her sword out of the demon’s back, she didn’t get a chance to kick the body aside.

  A demon charged into it and knocked her down onto the stone. Her head bumped off it and she blinked hard. There was a ringing sound in her head, but it was easily drowned out by the demon roaring at her, his face inches away from hers. He tried to bite her face off, but he was held back by the dead demon body sandwich between them.

  Cassie tried to pull her sword, but it was stuck between her and the dead demon. So, she did the next best thing. She punched the demon in the face.

  It didn’t seem to hurt the demon as much as she’d hoped.

  It did stop the demon from roaring though, which was a positive, as along with the roaring, the salvia stopped too. The demon grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out from under the dead demon. A stupid thing to do, as her sword was now free. She drove it into the demon’s chest. As she kicked his body away, she wiped away his spit from her face.

  Exhausted, Cassie took a moment to catch her breath. Her section of the w
all was clear of demons.

  It was also clear of the few humans that had stood with her.

  Elsewhere, the fighting continued. She spotted Martial battling a large red demon holding an enormous axe in his hand. Martial moved back as the demon swung it, and then, he stabbed with his sword. It cut through the demon’s armour and pierced the flesh just beneath his collar bone.

  And it did nothing to slow the demon down.

  As his axe came again, Martial sidestepped, then brought his sword down on the demon’s arm, cutting it off clean. That still didn’t slow the demon down. With one arm missing, the other arm was quick to act.

  It struck Martial on the jaw and knocked him down. As the demon knelt to pick Martial up, he pressed the sword in the demon’s chest, slowly cutting through the armour, then cutting through the flesh and bone until it came out on the other side. Still, the demon held him by the neck, now standing up straight.

  Finally, the demon stumbled back and Martial broke free of its grip. He pulled his sword out and leaned against a merlon, breathing heavily, he wiped away sweat from his forehead.

  Cassie leapt from her position on the wall and landed beside him.

  “Nice jump,” Marital mumbled.

  “You don’t look so good.”

  “What? Nah. Not true. I look awesome.”

  “Okay fine, you’re still sexy as fuck, but you look exhausted. How long can you continue?”

  Martial shrugged. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “You could leave.”

  “How?”

  “You could jump off the wall, get on one of those Hell Horses and ride away,” Cassie said. “Somehow I think maybe you’ve ridden one of those beasts before.”

  Martial stared at her with a curious look before shaking his head. “I can’t just run away.”

  Their conversation was interrupted as two demons appeared. Martial and Cassie got to work and dispatched the demons swiftly, though again, Martial looked worse, even held a hand to his stomach and pressed it in.