Destroyer of Legends

by Clayton Wood

  Hunter flew above Xerxes, Vi, and Sukri, spotting the great wall of the Kingdom over a mile away.

  “Camilla, warn the Kingdom!” Dominus shouted from below. “Make them open the gate!”

  Camilla burst forward on her flying horse, sailing past Hunter toward the Kingdom. Hunter glanced back, seeing the huge serpent slithering toward the wall of Ironclad, the Svartálfar falling back all around it.

  Shit.

  The serpent reached the Ironclad, swinging its massive tail at them. It swept through their ranks, sending Svartálfar and Ironclad flying.

  The line was decimated.

  Svartálfar poured over the fallen Ironclad, tearing at them with their teeth and claws. But the Ironclad fought back, rising to their feet and fighting until their last breath, even as the Svartálfar ate them alive.

  Within moments, the Ironclad were no more.

  The army of Svartálfar rushed forward then, chasing after the fleeing soldiers.

  “Go, go!” Dominus shouted, sprinting across the Deadlands with Tykus at his side. The Kingdom was only a mile away now, and the enemy was still a good quarter-mile away. Hunter glanced to his left, spotting the King’s Road there…and Svartálfar running atop it, keeping pace with the soldiers.

  “Guys!” he shouted. “Svartálfar on the King’s Road!”

  “Take them out!” Vi cried.

  Hunter grabbed his bow, nocking arrow after arrow and firing them into the long column of Svartálfar rushing over the King’s Road. He aimed for the front of the line, striking the beasts there. They fell, tripping some of the Svartálfar behind them, and a few toppled off the side of the road onto the ground twenty feet below.

  He changed tactics, firing more arrows, this time at the Svartálfar in the front…but on the edges. These fell, causing more beasts to trip over them and fall off the King’s Road. Still, it was like pissing in the ocean…there were hundreds more still coming. And he was running out of arrows.

  We’re not going to make it.

  The Svartálfar on the King’s Road reached the end, spilling out onto the Deadlands to block their path.

  We’re not going to make it!

  “Keep going!” Dominus cried. “Fight through them!”

  And then something came out of the open gate ahead at the great wall. A huge armored carriage like the ones Hunter had seen during the siege on the Kingdom days ago.

  The ones that spit fire.

  The carriage rolled toward the end of the King’s Road, followed by another, then another. Soldiers flanked the carriages, holding large hoses and aiming them at the Svartálfar.

  “Rain!” they cried.

  Hot oil sprayed upward and outward, raining down on the black beasts. Some turned, sprinting at the carriages and the soldiers around them.

  “Fire!” a soldier shouted.

  Archers with flaming arrows appeared atop the wall, firing arrows down into the Svartálfar. The missiles struck, flames spreading through the beasts instantly.

  “Push through!” Dominus cried. “Make a path!”

  Xerxes dropped Sukri and rushed ahead, smashing into the burning line of Svartálfar blocking the way to the gate. He cleared a path through them, and Dominus, Tykus, Sukri, Vi, and the rest of the survivors ran through, emerging on the other side and making a mad dash toward the gate ahead.

  And behind them, the main army of Svartálfar stampeded after them, less than a hundred feet away now.

  “Go go go!” Dominus shouted, sprinting behind Xerxes as the huge Ironclad barreled toward the gate. Burning oil coated Xerxes’ arms and chest, flames licking at his flesh. But the big guy ignored this, reaching the gate and rushing through. Sukri was right behind them, followed by Dominus and Tykus and the rest of the soldiers. Hunter dove downward, gliding right through the gate over them and landing to one side.

  The army of Svartálfar trampled right over their burning colleagues, a tidal wave of bodies rushing after them.

  “Close both gates!” Dominus cried, rushing through the second gate ahead. Hunter followed, as did everyone else, running out onto the long city street beyond. There were still soldiers pouring through the first gate.

  The heavy gates began to close, but far too slowly. The black horde rushed at them, only sixty feet away from the outer gate now.

  Forty.

  “Form a line!” Dominus shouted, stopping and turning to face the inner gate. “Archers, fire at will!” he commanded. The archers standing on the walls on either side of the street beyond the gate nocked their arrows.

  Svartálfar poured through the half-closed outer gate, rushing toward the inner gate.

  “Brace!” Dominus cried.

  The Svartálfar spilled out of the inner gate, hurtling toward them just as the outer gate closed.

  Hunter unsheathed his longsword, standing beside Sukri and Xerxes. The first of the Svartálfar leapt at them, and Hunter thrust his sword at its chest, impaling it. Another Svartálfar leapt over the first one before Hunter could withdraw his sword, lunging at him with its claws bared.

  And then the side of its face tore off in mid-air.

  Hunter flapped his wings, bursting backward. The wounded Svartálfar fell to the street, missing him by a few inches. He yanked his sword free, chopping down at the back of its head, splitting its skull in two.

  “You’re welcome,” Sukri stated. Hunter glanced at her, spotting half of a Svartálfar face hanging from her claws.

  “Thanks love.”

  A rain of arrows shot down from the archers high atop the walls on either side of the street, impaling the Svartálfar ahead. They dropped like flies, the inner gate shutting behind them. Hunter slashed at another beast, then another…and then a second volley of arrows took the remaining Svartálfar out.

  Hunter stood there, breathing rapidly, glancing around. The gates were closed, and there was nothing more to kill.

  The men around them cheered, embracing each other and grinning from ear-to-ear. Tykus smiled at Dominus, putting a hand on the former duke’s shoulder and gripping it tightly. Hunter turned to Sukri, giving her a hug, then glanced at Xerxes.

  His brother looked awful.

  “Jesus,” Hunter breathed. One of Xerxes’ right arms was gone, amputated at the shoulder. The other was half-eaten, and the armor at his chest was mostly missing. The flesh on his arms, chest, and belly was burnt to a crisp in large areas, and his legs were all chewed up. “You look like shit.”

  “GOOD…FIGHT,” he declared.

  “Yeah, well it’s not over yet,” Vi warned. “We got to burn these bodies…and we don’t have much of an army left. There’s a whole lot of them waiting at our door…and we didn’t even get close to beating Zagamar.”

  She turned to the closed gate, shaking her head slowly.

  “We,” she muttered, “…are in deep shit.”

  Chapter 43

  Dominus stood atop the great wall of Tykus, a cool breeze whipping through his hair as he gazed down at the sea of black creatures milling about on the Deadlands below. The Svartálfar had piled up against the wall on either side of the gate, many of them staring back up Dominus even as he looked down at them. In the distance, a good kilometer away, the great horned serpent slithered amongst the Svartálfar, Zagamar on its back.

  Tykus stood at Dominus’s side – the warrior Tykus – as did a large number of archers lined up against the wall, and a few generals.

  “We can pour oil on them and have our archers set them on fire,” one of the generals offered. Dominus sighed, shaking his head.

  “That will only kill a fraction of them,” he replied.

  “Well we have to do something,” the general insisted. Dominus ignored the man. Of course they had to do something. But what could they do?

  “We don’t have enough arrows to kill all of them,” another general noted.

  “And many will regenerate anyway,” Dominus muttered.

  “All the more reason to burn them,” the first general pressed.
/>   Dominus said nothing, glancing at Tykus. The former king was staring off into space; Dominus cleared his throat.

  “What do you think?” he inquired. Tykus glanced at him, then sighed.

  “I think the Svartálfar are the least of our worries,” he answered. The first general glared at Tykus.

  “That’s insane,” he shot back. “You’re saying a whole damn army of…”

  “Shut up,” Dominus snapped, glaring at the man. The general flinched, his face going pale. Dominus held the general’s gaze for a long moment, then turned back to Tykus. “What do you mean?”

  Tykus glanced at the generals and the archers, then turned away from them, putting a hand on Dominus’s back and leading him toward stairs that would bring them down to street level.

  “Walk with me,” he requested.

  Dominus complied, and they made their way to the streets. The citizens of the Kingdom had been ordered to stay within their homes, leaving the streets vacant. Tykus gazed at the empty streets.

  “This reminds me of the kingdom I arrived in when I came through the Gate,” he mused. “Empty. Silent.”

  Dominus nodded, saying nothing.

  “The Svartálfar now are identical to the Svartálfar then,” Tykus stated. “You remember what I said happened to them?”

  “They died off,” Dominus recalled. “Starved to death.”

  “Precisely,” Tykus agreed. “An army of that size won’t last long without a truly massive amount of food. When it runs out, they’ll start eating each other.”

  “But…”

  “So they aren’t the problem,” Tykus interrupted, stopping and turning to face Dominus. Dominus stopped as well.

  “Zagamar is,” he muttered.

  “Precisely,” Tykus agreed. “He is the great mind that guides them. The power that creates them. Without him, they are merely vicious brutes, modified animals doomed to self-destruct.”

  “But how do we kill him?” Dominus inquired. “His army matters because it protects him.”

  “His army matters because you let it matter,” Tykus retorted.

  Dominus blinked.

  “Your focus is on defending against the Svartálfar,” Tykus explained. “On killing them. Yet you already know they will kill themselves, given enough time.”

  “So how do we kill Zagamar?” Dominus asked. Tykus smiled.

  “That,” he replied, “…is the right question.”

  “I was hoping for an answer,” Dominus grumbled. Tykus chuckled.

  “You have some of the finest men and women this kingdom has ever seen on your side, Dominus,” he stated. “And even a piece of Zagamar himself.” He smiled, putting a hand on Dominus’s shoulder. “Ask them.”

  * * *

  The large dining room of the Lucky Nuts, one of the most popular bars in Lowtown, was deserted, its usual customers having fled to their homes. Hunter, Vi, Sukri, Xerxes, and Dominus and Camilla – along with warrior Tykus – had pulled some tables together, forming a long table. They all sat in chairs around it, save for Xerxes, who didn’t fit in any human-sized chair. The bartender – who just happened to be another iteration of Tykus – sat with them, opposite warrior Tykus.

  Hunter found himself glancing back and forth between the two, fascinated by the differences. Warrior Tykus was muscular, grizzled, and tanned, while bartender Tykus was more than a little pudgy, in his fifties, with skin that was still baby-smooth.

  “So the goal is to defeat Tykus,” Dominus was saying. “The question is, how do we do it?”

  Hunter turned to Vi, who was sitting opposite him. The deep gashes on her face from one of the Svartálfar’s claws had already healed considerably, now reduced to angry red abrasions. She shrugged.

  “I might be able to take him on myself,” she stated. “If Hunter can get me close enough to him, and I don’t have a damn serpent or an army of dark elves attacking me at the same time.”

  “So we need to separate Zagamar from his army,” Sukri stated. Warrior Tykus nodded.

  “It’s the only way,” he agreed. “The question is in the how.”

  There was a long silence then. Hunter glanced at Sukri, who shrugged, then at Xerxes, who seemed similarly stymied. The big guy’s horrendous wounds had also healed considerably, on account of the enormous amount of food bartender Tykus had given him.

  “Camilla can fly Tykus to Zagamar,” Hunter reasoned. “If Vi and Tykus double up on him, and I distract him by shooting arrows at him…”

  “Then the serpent is gonna smack you out of the air again,” Vi concluded. “And the Svartálfar will swarm up onto the serpent and take us down.”

  “We need to kill him quickly then,” Sukri piped in. “If Vi can go in, take him out before the Svartálfar and the serpent can react…”

  “That’s a big ‘if,’” Vi countered. “I may need time to get a good read on Zagamar. Rushing in like Dio did might get me killed.” She glanced at Camilla sitting next to her. “No offense,” Vi added hastily, putting a hand on Camilla’s. Camilla nodded mutely, her eyes downcast. She hadn’t said much of anything since Dio’s death.

  “His speed is his main power,” warrior Tykus observed. “And his ability to predict our next moves.”

  “He dodged most of my arrows,” Hunter noted. “Unless he’s distracted, I’m not gonna hit him.”

  “Unless you pit him against himself,” Vi countered. All eyes turned to her. “You’ve got the same power he does,” she pointed out. “If you invoke Zaggie, you should be able to predict his moves.”

  “Zaggie?” Dominus inquired.

  “Nickname for the Zagamar inside my head,” Hunter clarified.

  “Helps prevent us from getting confused,” Vi explained.

  “It might work,” Hunter agreed. “But I can only keep it up for so long before my body gives out.”

  “I’m so sorry Sukri,” Vi quipped. Sukri rolled her eyes.

  “What if Hunter flies over Zagamar and pours oil on him?” she asked. “Then he could set it on fire. That’d distract him.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Dominus admitted.

  “He’d see it coming,” Hunter retorted.

  “Then set the serpent on fire,” Camilla offered. All eyes turned to her. “My serpent is immune to most attacks,” she reasoned. “But it isn’t fireproof.”

  “If the serpent’s on fire, it’ll go crazy and set the Svartálfar around it on fire,” Sukri admitted. “And Zagamar won’t be able to ride it anymore.”

  “Thus separating Zagamar from the serpent,” Dominus concluded.

  “Gonna take a whole lot of oil to set that whole thing on fire,” Hunter grumbled.

  “Set the head on fire and it’ll be plenty distracted,” Vi reasoned.

  “And then Zagamar will stand in the middle of his army and be unreachable,” Tykus pointed out. Hunter grimaced; the guy had a point.

  “Well, we still need to take out the serpent,” he grumbled. “Got any better ideas?”

  Xerxes perked up then.

  “GUN,” he grumbled.

  “Pardon?” Vi asked.

  “FAST…WEAPON,” Xerxes explained. “HUNTER…HAD.”

  “That’s true,” Hunter admitted. He’d forgotten all about it…the revolver he’d taken through the Gate. The same one he’d blown Xerxes’ face off with. It was no wonder that the big guy had remembered it. “But the Kingdom took it.”

  “We still have it,” Dominus stated. “It would be in the lab where we study Original technology.”

  “No bullets though,” Hunter pointed out. “I used the last one on you. Sorry bro.”

  “That’s not…entirely true,” Dominus countered. “We’ve recovered several of these weapons in the past. None exactly like yours, but a similar technology. I believe the Originals who had them called them ‘rifles.’”

  Everyone turned to the former duke.

  “We’ve tried for decades to recreate the powder than drives the explosion,” Dominus continued. “It appears
to contain charcoal and sulfur, but there is another ingredient that we’re having difficulty identifying. None of the Originals who had the weapons had exact knowledge of the composition of the powder.”

  “Do you have bullets?” Hunter asked.

  “We do,” Dominus answered. “For the rifles. But it’s a limited amount.”

  “FLY,” Xerxes grunted. “SHOOT.”

  “I’ll blow Zagamar’s face off this time,” Hunter agreed. “He won’t know anything about guns. We’ll have the element of surprise…and then Vi can take him out quickly.”

  “How good are you at using the things?” Vi asked.

  “I’ve shot rifles before,” he replied. “So I’m better than anyone else. And Zaggie’ll be even better.”

  “So shoot his face off, I finish him, and we wait for the Svartálfar to turn on themselves,” Vi concluded.

  “Works for me,” Sukri stated.

  “We still need to deal with the serpent,” Camilla reminded them.

  “Alright Hunter, that means you have to set its ugly puss on fire first,” Vi decided.

  “I can do that,” Camilla countered. “My winged horse can fly with far more extra weight than Hunter can.”

  “Alright then, seems like we have a plan A,” Vi stated. “Now we need a plan B and a plan C.”

  “Agreed,” Dominus replied. “But let’s not waste any time; we can talk on our way to the lab.”

  * * *

  The lab was a large room within a nondescript building on the far western part of Hightown, more of an armory than anything else. It housed more than a dozen firearms, some appearing to be very old-fashioned muskets, while others were more modern-looking rifles. They looked like something that would’ve been used in the second world war. His revolver was among them, but the only one with a good cache of bullets was one rifle. It was resting on a long wooden table, an engraved metallic plate bolted to the table before it. “M1 Carbine,” it read. The wood of the rifle appeared to have been replaced, as had some of the metal components, which made sense. For every one year that passed here, six passed on Earth. Which meant that if this rifle was some fifty to sixty years old on Earth, it was over three hundred years old here.