Necessary Evil

by Donald Hanley

  “There’s a whole bunch of stacks in there,” she said, holding her hand over her head and then spreading her hands to indicate something about three feet across. “Mostly boxes and bags and big flat rocks.”

  I looked around and grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen from the counter. I quickly drew a large rectangle and added a small one beside it. “Can you draw what’s inside for us? Mark where everyone is.”

  Olivia took the pen awkwardly, as if her spectral hands couldn’t quite get a grip on it, and then she sketched a bunch of loosely-spaced squares on the near end of the rectangle. “Those are the stacks,” she said, and I passed that information on to the others gathered around. “The demon is here,” she drew a large X near the center of the warehouse, “and the people are here,” she added a circle by the X.

  “Are there any other exits?”

  “There’s a big door at the far end. I didn’t see any others,” she said apologetically, “but I wasn’t looking for them.”

  “That’s all right, this is great. Okay.” I studied the diagram, trying to envision the layout. “If we can get behind these stacks without being seen, we might be able to surprise them.”

  “They’re going to see that door opening,” Melissa said doubtfully. It was at least ten feet tall and probably noisy as well. “I can Shadow Step in.”

  “There’s a gap between the doors,” I noted. “I can target through it.” It was barely an inch wide but it would have to do.

  “And then the rest of us can portal over,” Susie said. She suddenly faded into view right beside Olivia, who squeaked in surprise and jumped aside. “It’s about time,” she groused, looking down at herself. “Now I can really do some damage.” She flexed her fingers and her diamonds glittered under the fluorescent lights.

  An uneasy knot twisted in my stomach. “This is real, people,” I told them seriously. “Once we get in there, it’s going to be a fight to the death.” Probably ours, I didn’t say.

  “This is what witches do, Peter,” Susie said dismissively. “We fight demons.” Melissa nodded her concurrence but she looked scared.

  “I’m not a witch,” Olivia said quietly, “but I want to help those people.”

  “I’m not a witch either,” I reminded them, “but it’s my fault this happened and it’s my responsibility to fix it.” I looked at Daraxandriel, who smiled fleetingly.

  “We can each claim fault for the straits in which we find ourselves, Peter Simon Collins,” she declared, “yet I shall cleave to thy side and fight the righteous battle.”

  “I have no idea what that means,” Susie complained.

  “I think it means All for one and one for all,” Melissa explained with a tentative smile. She held out her right hand. “The Three Musketeers.”

  “That’s a chocolate bar,” Susie protested.

  “And there are five of us,” I pointed out wryly, but I placed my hand on top of Melissa’s. Daraxandriel hesitated and then did the same.

  “This is stupid,” Susie grumbled but she followed suit. Then she snatched her hand back when Olivia reached in and rested hers on top. “What was that?” she asked uneasily, rubbing the back of her hand.

  “That was Olivia,” I informed her. “Is everyone ready?” They all nodded, with varying degrees of certainty. “Okay, Olivia, go make sure this area is clear.” I tapped her drawing between the stacks and the door. “Let me know when it’s safe to go.” Olivia nodded and hurried off, skirting the bloody marks on the floor.

  “Are you ready?” I asked Melissa quietly. She was going to be the first mortal in. If something went wrong before we joined her, she’d bear the brunt of it.

  She let her breath out with a nod. “I’m ready,” she assured me. “I can do this.”

  “I know you can.” I leaned in and kissed her lightly on the cheek. When I stepped back, she just stared at me with her lips parted. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’ve never kissed me before, Peter,” she said, resting her hand on her cheek.

  “Yes, I have,” I frowned. “Lots of times.”

  “No, I’ve always kissed you. This is – special.” She smiled shyly. “I like it.”

  I cleared my throat, all too aware of Daraxandriel and Susie watching us with odd expressions. “Well, okay then. Um –” Olivia stepped through the door then and waved at me to get my attention, giving me a thumbs-up sign. “It’s time,” I announced, trying to hide my relief. “Good luck.”

  “You too. See you soon.” Melissa took another deep breath, gripping her wand tightly, and then faded into shadow.

  This is it, I told myself, pulling up my spell bar and hovering my finger over Teleportal. It’s almost over. I just hoped I’d be alive to see the end when it happened. I walked over to the door, put my eye to the gap, and tapped the icon.

  18

  In Legends of Lorecraft, players spend upwards of 75% of their game time fighting NPCs and monsters. It’s the fastest way to gain XP and level up, and every now and then you’ll get lucky with a rare drop or two. For a lot of people, fighting is just a means to an end. For others, it’s what the game is all about: proving yourself against increasingly difficult foes while you work towards the ultimate prize, becoming a demiurge.

  Everyone has their own preferred fighting style. Melee characters like knights and rogues go toe-to-toe with their adversaries, using their armor or agility to avoid injuries while wearing down the enemy with multiple attacks at close range. Ranged characters like rangers, enchanters, or sorcerers, on the other hand, stand back and deal damage from a distance, trading off defense for offensive firepower. Neither approach is inherently better than the other and in most battles, you need a mix of styles in order to overcome a powerful opponent.

  At the lower levels, any character can easily solo the missions without too much trouble. As you gain experience, though, the monsters get progressively stronger and you eventually find yourself outmatched at every turn. That’s when you really need a coordinated team to deal with the threats you’re going to encounter. Otherwise, you’re going to wish you bought those Revive scrolls from that merchant in the last town.

  I appeared beside Melissa and Olivia scurried over to join us. A moment later a fiery white flash presaged the arrival of Susie and Daraxandriel. We stood by a row of wooden forklift pallets stacked with boxes of ceramic floor tiles, barely higher than the top of my head but wide enough to take shelter behind. They were spaced a foot apart but the rows weren’t aligned so we couldn’t peer between them to see what was going on.

  The warehouse itself was cavernous, almost two stories high up to its metal rafters and lined with heavy industrial shelving on both sides. It smelled of cardboard and rock dust and the sound of someone’s muffled crying echoed around us.

  “I’m going to Teleportal the hostages out,” I whispered to the others. “Don’t do anything until they’re safe.”

  “How are we going to know that from back here?” Melissa asked, equally softly. “What’s the signal?”

  “Listen for the yelling and howling,” I said wryly. “They’re not going to be happy their insurance policy is gone. Get ready.” I targeted myself and tapped Conceal, prompting a surprised gasp from Olivia.

  I crept along the row of boxes and peered around the corner. The shelving extended all the way down to the far end, stocked with decorative stones and bricks on the bottom level and other building supplies and tools higher up. I couldn’t see Orixnador from this angle, but I heard a low rumbling growl that had to be one of the hellhounds. I checked myself to make sure I was still invisible and then tiptoed forward. The tile boxes gave way to bundles of patio stones wrapped in heavy-duty plastic to keep them from toppling over and I caught my first glimpse of Orixnador Soulreaper.

  True to Daraxandriel’s word, he looked a lot like Bellaxragor Stormreaper, standing at least eight feet tall with thick curving horns and glowing eyes, but he lacked Bellaxragor’s wings. Instead, he wore a heavy leather cuirass studded with large metal riv
ets and vambraces around his massive forearms. He wasn’t as battle-scarred as his cousin but even his own mother would be hard-pressed to call his scowling angular features and rough-hewn physique handsome.

  I still couldn’t see the hostages so I moved closer, watching for the hellhounds, but I froze when Orixnador blew out a frustrated breath.

  “How much longer must we cower in this place?” His voice was a gravelly bass, like the rattle of stones down a large wooden chute. “My hounds grow restless for the hunt, as do I.”

  “Don’t hurt us, please!” begged a shaky female voice. “We’ll do whatever you want!”

  I hurried forward and finally found the captive employees. They huddled together on the floor not far from Orixnador, all of them bloodied and torn and two of them lying motionless, hopefully just unconscious. The demon lord looked down on them with a contemptuous sneer.

  “Cease thy pitiful whining, mortal,” he snarled, “lest I give my hounds leave to feast upon thy bones.” Three of the hellhounds sat watching the hostages intently, their jaws gaping in anticipation, and the woman moaned fearfully before clamping her hands over her mouth to muffle the sound. Another hellhound paced in a slow orbit around the hostages while the fifth was some distance away.

  “Patience, Orixnador.” I sucked in my breath and searched around for the source of that hated voice. I finally spotted Lilixandriel standing atop the shelving unit looking down at the demon, clad in the same blouse and skirt she wore in the cemetery. “Peter Simon Collins thinks himself a hero,” she sneered. “He will come.”

  I was sorely tempted to throw Flame Lance at her but she was partially shielded by the shelving and the hostages wouldn’t likely survive the ensuing chaos. Instead, I eased forward, trying to get a clearer view of them.

  “And what of the others who aid him?” Orixnador demanded. “Thy clutch-mate slaughtered four of my hounds and escaped. I demand retribution.”

  “Thou shalt have it,” Lilixandriel snarled. “Fortune favored her upon the shadowed paths but here she is sorely outmatched. Thou mayst do with her as thou wilt, yet thou needs must claim the soulstone first.”

  “I know our bargain,” the demon growled sourly. “Thou wilt make a fractious queen.”

  “Only to thine enemies, my lord,” she told him, suddenly all sweetness. “Thy rule shall be legendary.” Orixnador snorted but said nothing. He apparently had few illusions about his consort-to-be.

  I cleared the stacks, keeping an uneasy eye on the hellhounds, and carefully targeted the hostages with my reticle, spreading my fingers until all of them were outlined in white. Unfortunately, one of the hellhounds was also highlighted and sending it along with them would be disastrous. I moved to the side and tried again, with the same results. I needed to get up higher but I doubted I could climb on top of the stone stacks without making a noise or toppling everything over.

  Lilixandriel had the perfect vantage point and I tried to figure out how she got up there. I spotted a tall rolling staircase not far from her position but I hesitated. It was awfully close to her and to the patrolling hellhounds. If any of them sensed me there, I’d be toast. Or hamburger, I corrected myself grimly. I didn’t have much of a choice, though. The hellhound on the far side of the warehouse was making its way closer to where everyone else was hiding. I had at most a minute to get the hostages out of here.

  I targeted the middle step of the staircase and took a deep breath as I tapped Teleportal again. Suddenly I was ten feet up, overlooking Orixnador and his captives, but I hadn’t reckoned on how rickety the staircase was. It clanked and wobbled noisily under my weight, forcing me to grab the railing to keep from falling off, and everyone looked up in surprise. One of the hellhounds growled menacingly and moved closer as Orixnador scowled suspiciously, reaching for the whip coiled on his hip.

  I hastily targeted the hostages again and got them all selected but the fifteen-second cooldown on the spell prevented me from doing anything. Sweat trickled down my back as I mentally counted down the remaining time, watching the hellhound sniff the air as it neared.

  Eight. Seven. Six. The demon lord unlooped his whip and shook it out, sending its length slithering across the concrete floor. It had to be at least thirty feet long, yellowish-white and segmented, and my hair stood up when I realized it was made from small bones connected end-to-end.

  Five. Four. Three. The hellhound approached the bottom of the steps and another joined it, snuffling the floor. Orixnador moved closer, surprisingly graceful for a creature his size.

  Two. One. Now! I fixed an image of the loading dock near the Atlas Shipping building in my mind and tapped Teleportal. The hostages vanished and all hell broke loose in the warehouse.

  “They are come!” Lilixandriel shouted needlessly as Orixnador whirled around, gaping at the vacant spot on the floor where his captives used to be. “Find them and slay them!”

  Orixnador shouted in rage and cracked his whip at one of the pallets of stones. It exploded into rubble, sending sharp-edged shrapnel everywhere. He spat a guttural order to his hounds and they leapt away in all directions, scouring the warehouse for the intruders.

  I targeted the closest one and tapped Lightning Strike just as Daraxandriel appeared, bounding across the tops of the stacks with her sword raised high. A column of blazing electric fire slammed down out of nowhere, immediately incinerating the hound and blinding and deafening me.

  I palmed my eyes desperately, trying to see what was happening, and through the spots I saw Daraxandriel leap through the air and land on another hound’s back, driving her sword straight through its skull and pinning it to the floor. Its dying throes threw her aside but she rolled to her feet in a crouch, facing a third hellhound charging her with its maw gaping to swallow her whole. Then it stumbled and collapsed heavily, skidding into a lifeless heap. I had no idea what just happened, until I caught sight of Melissa crouching by the shelves with her outstretched wand shrouded in roiling shadow, looking grim and frightened at the same time. We killed three of the hellhounds in less than ten seconds. Maybe we had a chance after all.

  Then Orixnador roared again and sent his whip flying at Melissa. She shadowed away just before it struck and its tip sheared through one of the metal shelf supports like it was made of balsa wood. One of the hounds raced around the stacks towards the showroom and I hastily targeted it. Before I could cast Flame Lance, though, a plastic-wrapped stack of flagstones fell out of the sky and hit it square on, splattering it like a dropped jar of blackberry jam.

  “What the hell?” I couldn’t figure out where the stones had come from but my startled utterance attracted the attention of the remaining hellhound and it bounded towards the steps. It, too, met its demise from above but this time I saw the flash of Susie’s portal pentagram up near the rafters. She was teleporting the pallets two stories up and letting them fall.

  “Hounds, to me!” Orixnador shouted, as if he didn’t realize all of his pets were dead, but a shadowy gateway formed behind him and another hellhound bounded out, followed by another, and then another. Suddenly, he had six new hounds swarming him, frenzied by the sight and smell of their fallen companions.

  “Slay these vermin!” he commanded furiously. “Rend them limb from limb!” They howled in chilling unison and then scattered as another stack-bomb dropped just inches from Orixnador, peppering him with shards of slate.

  Daraxandriel took advantage of the distraction to rush to the hound she’d slain, yanking her sword out of its skull and the floor with a grunt. She leapt on top of the stacks again just as one of the hellhounds charged her and it collided with the stones like a runaway truck, sending it toppling into the others. Daraxandriel jumped from one to the other, trying to keep ahead of the dominos, and Orixnador’s whip caught her in mid-leap, wrapping itself around her hips and pulling her to the floor. She screamed in agony, struggling to free herself as the bones cut into her, but even her sword couldn’t cut the whip away.

  “Dara!” I hit the closest hell
hound with Flame Lance, punching a smoking hole through its chest, and I clattered down the steps towards her and raced to her side. I tried to sever the whip with Phantom Blade but it just skittered off the bones. I grabbed the whip, trying to pull it off her, but it ripped my hands like barbed wire. “Dara!”

  “Leave me!” Daraxandriel urged me, grabbing my arm in a crushing grip. I doubted she knew I was still invisible, since her eyes were squeezed shut in pain. “Strike at Orixnador! Do not let him summon – aaiie!”

  She was suddenly pulled away from me, sliding across the floor as Orixnador hauled on his whip, leaving behind a long trail of dark blood. She lay face-down, her breath heaving, as two hellhounds crept up on her from opposite sides. Then one of them just collapsed into a shriveled, mummified heap and the other disappeared in a flash of white fire and reappeared up by the rafters, howling as it tumbled to its death.

  Behind the demon lord, three silvery pentagrams suddenly bloomed on the floor and Prescott, Shelby, and Singh appeared out of nowhere. They didn’t waste their breaths ordering Orixnador to surrender. A sizzling electric bolt shot out of Shelby’s wand, striking Orixnador full on the chest, while Singh’s sweeping gesture wrapped coils of light around him, binding his arms and legs. Prescott threw something at the hellhound charging right at him and the beast yelped sharply before tumbling to the ground, blood gushing from the gaping wound that suddenly appeared in its chest.

  Orixnador wasn’t so easily tamed, however. He shrugged off Shelby’s magical taser and raised his arm despite Singh’s bindings, pulling his whip away from Daraxandriel. He swung it over his head and snapped it at Shelby, who quickly cast a shimmering dome around herself. The whip burst through her shield like it was a soap bubble and slashed her across her arm and torso, sending her flying back with a shriek of pain. Her pentagram flickered out as she hit the floor.

  “Paula!” Prescott ran towards her but Orixnador swept his whip around again and sent it straight at his head. He ducked, throwing up his own shield, but before the whip could touch him, the last five feet of it abruptly disintegrated into dust, missing him completely.