Seven Devils

by J A Stone

  Garrett cringed slightly, when he realized he would be alone with the Ghost.

  “I KNOW RIGHT? The Aequitas Caelum Vindictis will be your personal watchdog,” the pixie grinned as though none of that was creepy.

  “Aye Boss,” her Chief bowed deep.

  “Okay then,” British turned to face the open grasslands just as the atmosphere chilled.

  The Aequitas Caelum finished his debrief.

  Jarol and K-Li are no longer active Kotare Guildsmen. they are free agents, demons on the loose. I am certain they are still within the shining city, lurking the shadows. They are not finished.

  The Spirit concluded with a solemn heir, his knowledge of the target limited, his demeanor quite humble.

  Tawnee stomached the words poorly. She already had several ideas as to where the infamous Assassins might find refuge within the golden city. Tibor housed many sympathizers for the gilded crafts—of which there were many. King Aaron was foolishly keeping his attentions upon the old city and the Raven insurgency. He simply did not see the spies beneath his feet, the agents roaming his halls.

  I take the Wall. I will listen for you Daughter, Swordsman and Shadoweye, exact your toll swiftly, I am listening.

  Yeah, I bet you are— Tawnee shut down her rogue thought, quickly looking away to avert the sharp glance from the Spirit. She knew he heard. Screw it, Tawnee snatched the reins on her five-season mare and bolted away, west to north across the waist-high grass.

  “Uhhhhh, okay! Off we go!” British raised her booted feet and her Snowhorse dug in, launching the two forward to chase after her fellow Knight, her friend, her love.

  The Danes bayed and yipped, assuming a perimeter about the mounted riders and Bigfoot’s wagon as the hoof-beats vibrated the ground beneath Garrett’s feet. Once alone, he turned to the Spirit of Caelum Fey and grinned foolishly.

  “Jolly good Sir,” he stammered but the Spirit shook its head side to side slowly, floating within striking distance. The Aequitas Caelum Vindictis spoke with the chill of death on his haggard voice.

  Ready your wit, gather your staff, they are coming from the east and shall be here before Magnus and Po. Garrett, my Daughter has entrusted you as Chief for a very good reason. Tonight, the battle of Fort Salvos begins.

  Garrett stood there stupefied.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Ten Miles Northwest of Fort Salvos

  Shadoweye spurned her mare onward as Warfell matched pace with Rarity. Seconds later, Eventine Delacroix came abreast, riding a beautiful Black Racer stallion. Torpa and Landreth bolted in and out silently as the three riders sped across the landscape, leaving British and the remaining Knights behind.

  British Fey signaled a dismount and motioned everyone to come closer.

  “Okay, change of plans,” she smiled. “Staff and students I do not trust—my Knights I do.”

  Dobra, Howie and Raptor grinned like absolute dolts.

  “Yes boys,” Fey nodded solemnly. “Men,” she emphasized. “Delacroix tells me you are there. And now we are here!”

  “So what’s the deal boss?” Tom Snow asked and British looked every person in the eye.

  “We have an inbound detachment,” she sighed. “A battalion, riding hard from the east. Five hundred Tiborean Regulars and one Company of Knights. Dad says the Master Knight is with them.”

  “Sanctioned by King Aaron,” Snow grabbed a handful of grass.

  “Yeah, most likely. That’s what Warfell and the Danes are gonna find out. Shadoweye and Delacroix will handle the Kotare.”

  “So why did we stop! Missus British, we need to go back right now!” Bigfoot rose suddenly, smashing a fist to palm—the boys recoiled involuntarily.

  “Easy my friend. Logos was a busy man. He was like me, he never stopped doing shit, I swear.” Fey took a knee, followed by her Knights. After the moment of silence, she continued.

  “Lo-lo made us a ramp, and widened a path. We’re riding back—underground—from over there,” she pointed to several lone trees half a click away.

  “Those are Rot-Root trees,” Snow noted the scrub pines with twisted branches, quite poisonous. The bark seeps a deadly neurotoxin that kills upon skin’s touch within seconds.

  “Perfect cover, c’mon everybody. Rob, the wagon stays here. Unhitch the Broncos and bring ‘em down the hole.”

  “Aye,” Bigfoot made for his team and quickly began.

  Tibor

  “Captain Danica Warfell, Knights of Salvos. I seek audience with Good King Aaron.”

  “I’ll send a bird forward, welcome to Tibor Captain,” the Guardsmen were unaware of their compatriots bringing war across the grasslands that very moment.

  Danica took the bridge, walking Rarity with Torpa and Landreth on either side. The massive, stark-white Huntsman’s Hounds were silent and aware—they knew this was their birthplace.

  At the foot of the King’s Tower, a Royal Escort ushered Warfell in, taking Rarity to the stables. As for the Danes?

  “They stay with me,” she placed a hand on each head and scratched while the incredible canines sat still and proud. Warfell’s eyes were undeniable, her mood confident.

  “Aye Lord Captain, this way, King Aaron is in Council,” her concierge, a sniveling, twisted old woman named Dana motioned and Danica followed. Their armed escort tromped not three paces behind as they took the arduous steps.

  Two flights in and Danica stopped to look at Dana, who was clearly having difficulties.

  “Give me your hand,” Warfell hoisted the old woman to Torpa’s wide shoulders with a squeak of pain from Dana. “You make her walk these steps?” her gaze shot through the three Knights behind them.

  They said nothing. Danica winked and pointed with a long finger.

  “We will talk later,” she said aloud and they knew—they knew exactly what Warfell meant.

  Outside the Throne Room, Dana slid down and caressed Torpa for a moment with a smile of appreciation for the magnificent animal.

  “I remember when he was a puppy at grown-up size,” Dana straightened her body as best she could.

  Danica reached in a pocket and produced a bottle filled with sparkly red pills. She smiled at the woman, her escort.

  “I still carry these, because they are nothing to me now, but they were once something indeed. Though I never really needed them, these little guys helped me get through some rough times and situations I simply cannot describe,” Warfell gave the bottle of strong painkillers to Dana.

  “Are you a Devil or an Angel?” Dana accepted with relief and Warfell snorted through her nostrils, lending another glare of death to the armed escort.

  “Is this woman receiving medical care?” she already knew the answer was no. “My Lady, may I ask, what is your station here at Court?”

  “I am Advisor to the Throne, Prince Aaron’s former Nanny,” Dana spoke with shame, her head low, eyes to the tiles.

  She’s a slave, Danica surmised correctly, already learning volumes of Aaron’s state of mind—insane. Across from her, the old woman swallowed one of the pills dry and returned Warfell’s penetrating stare.

  “Lord Captain, I despise the boy King. This is known to all, even these cretins,” she extended a wrinkled palm to the Guards. “Boys, will you announce Captain Warfell for audience?”

  All three moved to the wide doors and Dana grabbed Warfell’s cape.

  “He must be stopped,” the old woman whispered and Danica took her hand.

  “Cautious creeps the wind before the fury of the gale,” Warfell whispered, squeezing gently as the huge doors swung wide.

  “A storm is coming,” Dana motioned the tall warrior through the portico.

  “The storm is here,” Warfell whispered back.

  Rot-Root Grove

  British and Snowflake watched the Knights descend into the abyss of blackness until only she and the Snowman remained topside.

  “Get ‘em there Tom-Tom,” Fey leaped from the back of her Snowhorse and approached one
of the lethal scrub pines. Like a whip, she extended the Coralo Machete and hacked a deep cut in the bark.

  “You aren’t coming?” asked Tom as Bigfoot walked back up the ramp.

  “We need to go, Garrett is alone,” the eight-footer said but British ignored them both as she pulled her chopping blade through the bleeding sap laced with the neurotoxin, covering the metal and carefully re-sheathing the instrument. She pulled her Scimitar and did the same, being very careful to only moisten the edges.

  “Tom, Rob, come here,” she finally spoke.

  “Yeah boss?” Snow was getting worried.

  “Enter at Tower Main. Robby, get on the big gun in the War Tower and aim at the regulars in the back.”

  “Aye.”

  “Tommy, command the Primary Wall until Magnus gets in. When the Dwarf arrives, get down on ground level with your team and prepare to open the East Gate…I want you to lure the Tiborean Knights inside on the grasses believing they have overwhelmed us with numbers, savvy?”

  “No boss, I don’t!”

  “That’s okay at this stage. Bigfoot, listen, when the Tiboreans are all in, get Garrett to sound the station peal and blow the East Gate, then unhitch the second howitzer and get your huge muscular ass on deck where I will meet all of you,” British roved her puppy browns from Tom to Rob.

  “What about the other guy, Pa?” asked Robert.

  “Po, Master Po. He’ll be with me outside, eliminating the overwhelming numbers,” British grew solemn, almost sad. “Don’t watch Robby, it isn’t gonna be nice.”

  “I’ll stay on that big gun Missus British,” Rob smiled wide.

  “That’s ma boy, oh! And Iris, keep her close to the young Knights, just in case. Remember, once she takes a live one she’s a berserker—don’t let her cut loose into the crowd—stay together on deck until you see me. Stay together,” British said the last and the men nodded, turning and disappearing down the ramp.

  Fey whistled sharp and shrill. Antigua emerged from the dark and British smiled to the large canine.

  “C’mon girl,” the battle pixie spurned Snowflake forward and her faithful Dane followed.

  Fort Salvos, War Tower

  “Aw shit, that’s a lot of bad guys,” Garrett watched nervously as the battalion of five-hundred approached the east side of the Honest Wall, spreading out in formation, displaying the Company of twenty Tiborean Knights on the vanguard, the Master Knight of Tibor leading his small army forward.

  “What do we do?” asked Jimmy, one of the cooks.

  “Galley Crew, man the Primary Wall, get on the mounted rifles and wait for the horns from up here,”

  “Yes Sir,” the young man dashed away to gather his small team.

  “Corella?” Garrett addressed the Foreman of the construction crew.

  “Yes Sir?”

  “Get my Wife and the other civilians down below in the argon maze, and then assemble your men on deck, at the Primary Wall—East Gate. I got your back with the big guns here, now go,” Garrett was an efficient Commander, trained by the best.

  But once alone in the lofty War Tower, the former Tiborean Knight moved to the scope, clenched the tube tight, and simply lost it. His breaths pounded in and out like thunder, sweat poured over his face and Garrett trembled. He wasn’t ready for this, they left him there! With a—

  Wait.

  He grabbed the eyepiece and searched the Honest Wall until he found the Specter, looming the surface silently, positioning itself above the massive gate, hovering, waiting…

  East Gate, Honest Wall

  The Master Knight of Tibor was a powerful warrior, a man stripped of identity to wear the sparkling armor; his station and duty becoming all there is. This man held no fear, no trepidation in the face of—

  The Aequitas Caelum Vindictus floated to the edge of the wall and brightened his visage against the fading light. He spoke calm and warm, as a Father to a Son.

  You must return this moment to your homeland. The boy-king is in peril. Fiends abound the bastion’s halls of King’s Tower, Assassins seethe their stench in the shadows. I have dispatched my finest to engage them on your behalf Master Knight. Your duty has been cast upon a fool’s errand.

  “STAY YOUR FOUL SPEECH DEMON!” bellowed the Master Knight. “YA!!” he barked and three wide guns boomed, hurling iron-wrought chain mail cast-nets at, into, and through the ethereal visage.

  The Spirit accepted the iron with a blast of pain as the nets fell to the wall beneath him. He set his gaze on the Master Knight and the face of a once living man began to change.

  Everyone heard and felt the hoof beats below the green grass, pounding through a substrata tunnel—reinforcements just arrived.

  The Spirit above the wall smiled and that smile twisted into insanity as it began to wail, the deep baritone quickly becoming a twisted thundering howl of death in its purest.

  The Aequitas Caelum lunged.

  The battle horns joined.

  The Salvos rifles cracked and flared.

  Then the mounted battalion from Tibor responded in kind and the Honest Wall began to chip apart and crack within moments before the deafening roar of the opposition’s big guns.

  Two hundred feet aloft, Salvos’ Security Chief watched in horror.

  “Aw shit, they got cannons,” Garrett leveled his sights on one and held his breath.

  “DON’T!” a deep voice boomed over the war deck. Garrett snatched a pistol free out of reflex and Bigfoot smacked the tiny peashooter away with a smile.

  “Thank the Gods,” Garrett grinned and pissed his pants a little. Robert grinned back and moved straight for the howitzer.

  “I got the big gun—Boss has special instructions for you Chief.”

  Primary Wall

  Jimmy was on nerve’s edge behind the wall-mount gun. His small galley crew was in position when Tom Snow stormed on deck with a shotgun held high, Dobra, Howie and Raptor just behind him with wide smiles and long rifles of their own.

  “WELL MET!” Jim shouted as the new team took their positions.

  “Don’t celebrate yet Son, wow, so this is what we got?” Tom surveyed the gunners, below, he saw the rag-tag construction crew assembling before the east gate. He counted thirty poorly trained fighters against five hundred seasoned battle veterans.

  “Weh can do it,” Iris replied next to Snow, having appeared out of nowhere.

  “Iris, stay close to me and the boys, British specifically said to keep you out of that crowd.”

  “That’s where I do meh best work,” the Arenthian smiled. “Truth be told, I like ye Tom Snow.”

  The Snowman gave the woman with grey eyes a long look of admiration. She was pretty, sensual, and quite deadly, but Tommy found her face replaced with Danica’s. He looked away for that brief second, and Iris knew.

  “Yeh beh in love with our Captain?” she asked without jealousy.

  “I…I am Iris, always have been.

  “Meh too, but sheh won’t have it,” Iris sighed, “and what I would do to her.”

  “Okaaay, uh, me too, so right now let’s just stay alive and get Danica naked later?”

  “Agreed handsome Tommy,” Iris winked and the Snowman flushed with excitement, knowing well and good, Danica would knock his block off if he ever pulled a slutty move like that—still.

  “Did…did I tell you to stay close to the…um, boys, the boys?”

  Thankfully, Tom saw a short, wide shadow emerging from the stairs. Magnus was there! Without thinking, Tom took a knee before the experienced Battle Dwarf and ally to the Feys. Iris remained standing.

  “Get up Son, what’s wrong with you?” Magnus smiled, and then frowned, taking a deep breath and screaming like a mad man.

  “GODDAMIT, get away from the ballista, don’t you see a gunfight? YOU!” the Commander approached Jimmy.

  “Aye Sir!” Jimmy replied.

  “Get zip lines ready, this battle will be fought down there in a matter of minutes,” Magnus snatched a field scope away from
Tom and surveyed the heavy guns just outside the Honest Wall. “Oh you sneaky little creature,” he said to no one, having surmised British’s plan.

  Tom and Iris took the wall with long rifles and mounted scopes. After a moment of observation, Iris spoke.

  “I seh them, two clicks south of the gate, crawling through the grass”

  “Got it, good eye Lass, you be the Renth?”

  “That beh meh!” she gave the old Dwarf a warm eye. He nodded his respect.

  “Don’t go wild in that crowd,” Magnus was wise.

  “Aye Sir.”

  “Snowman, get every able body on the grass right now with a sword on their hip and a shotgun in hand, no scattershot, slugs Son, big fat nickel slugs, savvy?”

  “On it, Iris?” Tom motioned and the two bolted away.

  “YOU!” Magnus pointed a chubby finger, “Let’s go boy, the fight aint up here,” Magnus slung a riot-gun over each shoulder and promptly removed one of the big turret rifles from its mount, hoisting the powerful weapon high, looking like an ant carrying a massive twig. “YOU! BIG BOY!” he somehow pointed at Dobra. “Grab the other gun and follow me Son, we’re gonna freak some people out,” Magnus smiled as he moved.

  “Aye Sir!” Dobra snatched a second high-powered beauty and followed.

  Below, across the expanse of green, outside the Honest Wall, the Aequitas Caelum Vindictis tried desperately to get at the Master Knight. But the man had prepared for this, wearing specially designed, magnetically charged armor. The big Knight also chose to flail two iron chains about as whips, tasking painful slashes through the Ghost over and again, enraging the Specter, yet keeping him at bay.

  From behind, the cannons destroyed the fifty-foot gate as the Tiborean forces shouted and howled.

  They ran en masse, past the frustrated Spirit, onto the courtyard greens, straight for the second gate to the Primary Wall.

  Further behind, pixie, monk and Lady Dane crept to the rubble, taking a quick rest in a crevice and waiting. Only the Spirit saw—he hovered above them and watched the small army taking position before the hundred foot buttress—the last barrier to Fort Salvos.