The fireball moved on Gage’s command, tearing through the throne room as both Dajjal and Botis watched from afar. Thrym held his arms out, placing one forearm over the other, and there was a sharp whine. Out of thin air a lattice shimmered and the air itself froze to protect the King from the flames. Searing light danced across his blue eyes as the fires collided against the ice, fading back to darkness shortly after their power was spent.
“Die!” Thrym commanded, thrusting his arms forward.
The shield cracked and was sent crashing down to the floor. Gage and Marcus ran for cover, dodging the wayward debris while both Dajjal and Botis melted that which fell around them.
A mist now covered the floor like a thick blanket, hiding everyone from view as a silence fell upon the room.
Thrym surveyed the area, seeing nothing but the fog. He kicked at it, swiping his enormous feet across the space which only caused the vapors to churn. Things were more difficult to see and a frustrated Thrym stopped and locked his gaze toward the ground, waiting.
He wasn't left waiting long, Botis and Dajjal leaping skyward out of the mist as their demonic powers propelled them higher. Each reared back their arms then threw their blades at Thrym, the sword and halberd soaring to the target trailed by streaks of red and blue light.
They struck the King squarely in his chest, who seemed to take the full blow from both powerful weapons. There was a blinding flash of purple which filled the room and a subsequent rush of wind that blew the mists away.
In the brightness, Botis and Dajjal’s weapons sung as they returned to their respective hands and their owners waited for the light to fade away so they could bear witness to the fruits of their combined attack.
However, their fruits, along with their efforts, were spoiled.
Thrym had deflected the attack by calling his own blade at the last possible moment. Wrought of obsidian, the thin sword glowed with an unnerving green aura just like the walls.
The three of them battled long and hard, exchanging many quick swings in the chamber along with spells that dazzled in their beautiful deadliness.
Botis landed on the floor and observed the continuing battle above. Dajjal and Thrym were exchanging furious strikes while freezing and burning each other with magic. Seeing an opportunity with the giant distracted, Botis sped toward Thrym’s left leg, separating his halberd before plunging one half into Thrym’s shin.
Quickly Botis leapt to the other leg and around it, using the connecting chain to draw Thrym’s legs together.
The frost giant realized what was happening, but it was too late. Unbalanced, Thrym wavered and with a helping blast of hellfire right to the face – courtesy of Dajjal – the King fell to his pained knees in misery.
Giving the King no respite, Marcus breathed life to a fire stone he had plucked from his backpack and pitched it at Thrym with all his might. Shortly after, there was another explosion and the side of the King’s face was melted away; his right eye, destroyed by this latest attack, fell to the floor with a subtle squish. Marcus just stared at it, unsure if he should be fascinated or disgusted.
Gage found himself zoning in and out of his normal state of mind, battling not only with the monsters outside, but those growing within. He saw that Thrym was severely injured and was quick, sending hellfire blasting out from the amulet. They wrapped around Thrym like great serpents and began to crush him under their power, boiling him as they did.
Gage’s senses tingled. Something was wrong and he felt a great shadow descending upon him.
“Gage! Behind you!” Marcus screamed, falling to the ground as a scorching tendril lashed out above his head.
It was Dajjal, seizing his own opportunity to fell the mighty Gage Crosse. His sword came down but was extinguished by the Ring’s power, Gage able to move himself out of the way of the plain steel in just the nick of time.
Marcus had hit the ground harder than he thought, pushing himself off the ground a little winded. After a few short breaths and a groan for good measure, he stood the rest of the way up on a pair of wobbling legs.
You are going to need a shit ton of pain meds when you get back, he told himself.
That’s when Marcus perceived something dangerous. Turning slightly, he saw that Botis had been eyeing him, the sharp blade of the demon’s halberd already spiraling through the air right at him.
“Oh fuck!” Marcus shouted, holding out his hands instinctively – not that it would have done a damn thing to stop its advance, but the Ring of Dispel’s effects certainly did. Lifeless and drained of its enchantment, the halberd clanged noisily on the ground, sliding right to Marcus’ feet.
Botis was in a rage, charging for Marcus with his gauntlets raised.
Before Marcus could ready himself, Botis was already upon him, making sure to introduce the Journeyman’s face to end of the demon’s gauntlet. With the wind knocked out of him, Marcus fell right back to the ground, coughing up a few specks of blood. Botis was immediately above him again, this time about to deliver a deadly blow.
Marcus made a move.
Grasping his fingers around the halberd, Marcus thrust it toward Botis to impale it in his head, but faster than lightning the demon lashed out his arm and grabbed the handle, stopping its advance.
“Mortal fool!” Botis cried. “You would dare try and slay a Hell Knight with his very own weapon?”
“I’ve dared to do a lot of things in my life, demon, more than you will ever know,” Marcus answered coolly. “I don’t plan on changing anything about me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t force other things to…”
The halberd began to tremble, Marcus’ hand glowing as the tremors raced up and down the handle. Botis continued to hang onto it tightly, even as the blade began to sing, sounding more like a whine. Botis was unwilling to let go of his precious weapon.
It began to get warm, though he still held on. It began to grow hot, yet he still hung on. At last it became blistering to the touch and he was given no other choice.
Releasing the weapon from his grasp, it became dull and brown right before his eyes.
“What have you done?” Botis demanded to know, picking up Marcus by the front of his furry cloak.
Marcus did nothing but smile, his beard brimming with happiness.
Abruptly, the halberd burst into a cloud of rust that engulfed the two of them. Botis released Marcus right away, coughing as the man landed safely on the floor before sprinting over to Gage. The coughs grew into deep hacks that rattled Botis’ chest. They were painful, Botis not only struggling from disorientation but also the sweltering iron as it filled his lungs.
Marcus reached Gage, slowing down to approach him guardedly. Gage looked lucid teetering between his control and the amulet’s. “So… which Gage is here right now?” he asked playfully, but at the same time was deadly serious.
“I got ya man,” Gage said, straining to get the words out. “Tryin’ to keep this shit under control takes a lot… out of me.”
“I can imagine,” Marcus said. “We have to get out of here soon, man. I don’t think we have much fight left in us plus, well, you’re looking like you’re about to fall into a bucket of shit my friend.”
Gage let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m still prettier than…”
There was an enormous gust of wind that cut their conversation short and a roar that sounded like a powerful stampede about to collide with the both of them.
Marcus looked around and it was like time had slowed.
Thrym, Dajjal, and Botis had all sent death their way, ice lances and hellfire bearing down on the defenseless Journeymen. The enemy was determined to smite these bothersome mortals, removing them entirely from what should be a supernatural fight.
“We have to get out of here!” Gage shouted.
“There's no time!” Marcus said in a panic.
He was right, there was no time to grab a transport stone from his bag. Even if he could, it was their last one and they wouldn’t have enough power to tele
port far, never mind all the way back to Bennett Peak.
Heart in his throat, Marcus realized they were doomed if he didn’t get them out of there… now. A thought leapt into the forefront of his mind, something he had mentioned not too long ago.
I think I maybe able to use one of my tattoos to… ah never mind; I've not done that before…
Marcus’ own words continued to ring out in his head as he looked down at his inked fingers, sighing. “Here goes nothing,” he said, visualizing the bridge just outside the fortress while grabbing hold of Gage’s hand.
Gage was suddenly extremely anxious. “Marcus…”
There was a boom and Gage’s gut was pulled in a hundred different directions. Air rushed out of his lungs before a feeling compressed inward like a collapsing star, ears ringing loudly. The fortress rippled and dissolved from his view, replaced by an infinite vista of streaming colors, then the stars, and finally flipping into the snow.
Cold snow lay emotionless beneath Gage’s hands and knees. Breathing heavily, he had materialized safely on the bridge leading into the citadel. The same couldn’t be said for Marcus, who had landed nearby but was doubled over in a fetal position.
“Hey M…” Gage said quietly, but the wind overtook his voice. He pushed himself onto his feet and staggered worriedly over to Marcus, who hadn’t moved at all. “Marcus, buddy… ya doin’ ok?”
There was still no response and Gage’s green eyes sparkled.
A cough finally came from Marcus, allowing Gage to sigh with relief. However, when finally stood above him, the tears flowed, freezing about halfway down his cheeks. There was a bright splash of red – a lot of it – spread across the pristine snow just past Marcus’ face.
“Marcus!” Gage shouted as he dropped down and checked him over. Nothing no neck injuries he rolled him over into his lap, letting him look up at the stars. “Marcus, ya okay buddy? I know ya look like shit… hell we both feel like it I bet… but…”
“G… Gage. Do you ever take a minute to shut up?” Marcus smiled and although his teeth were bloody, he was able to show his happiness through his blue eyes.
Gage chuckled. “Yeah… no I don’t. Ya know me too well by now.”
Marcus winced as he shifted the backpack off his shoulder, Gage helping him at the last. “We didn’t get the Crown.”
“Nah, we didn’t get it this time,” Gage said dejectedly, “but that doesn’t mean we’ve failed. Dajjal, or even that other guy Botis, may have snagged it from us, but we’re still four items in compared to their one. That’s still a good set of odds.”
“Yeah, it was bound to happen I guess,” said Marcus, coughing once more.
Gage nodded. “Yeah, so we’ll just have to take it off their hands later”
Distant sounds of scuffling came from the fortress; Gage was not willing to wait and see what was making all the commotion. “M, I know that it’s a lot to ask for…”
“I’m already on it, big guy” he replied, having removed the transportation stone from his pocket. “One boosted jump for Gage Crosse and company.”
Gage zipped up the bag for him. “You gonna be able to make it? The jump I mean.” Gage looked off, readying himself for the answer to be no.
“I’ll make it.”
Gage looked suspiciously at Marcus. “I mean in one piece on the other side.”
“That I’m not so sure of,” Marcus replied.
“Well that’s that,” Gage said, dropping his own backpack in order to pick Marcus up and over his shoulders.
“Gage, what are you doing?”
“Carrying ya out of here.”
“I’ll be fine!” Marcus pleaded. “I just want to get home now and no offense, but I don’t fancy walking for hours. The weather around here… it’s murder.”
“Well ya ain’t kidding there,” Gage replied. “So, you certain that you’re okay for this? You’re gonna have quite the headache when we get back to HQ.”
“It can get in line,” Marcus said as they both put their backpacks back on. “I will take you up on the carrying option, though. I’m not going to be able to get us all the way back to the Peak, but it’ll be pretty damn close.”
“Ya got it,” Gage said with a smile.
Marcus shuffled closer and rested his hand on Gage’s always reassuring shoulder, closing his eyes before smashing the stone onto the bridge.
The two Journeymen vanished in an instant, on their way back home.
THE THRONE ROOM looked vastly different since Gage and Marcus departed.
All was ablaze, walls dissolving under the heat of penetrating fires, their hues flickering wildly between an overpowering warmth and eerie coolness. Black smoke and sparks filled the towering reaches of the chamber while the hard fought battle continued below.
Dajjal flung his flaring sword toward King Thrym and Botis did the same with his halberd, both weapons screaming through the murky air to strike the frost giant in the chest at the same time. A large area fractured then tumbled away, trailed by a dense cobalt goo. The once proud King had been brought to the brink of utter ruin.
The demons did not let up their onslaught, continuing their vicious attacks until most of Thrym’s body was gone, sacrificed to hellfire and steel.
Dajjal landed on the ground, allowing his sword to continue its business.
“I recall telling you that you would be on your knees,” he told the weary monarch after a flurry of blade hits. Staring at the King’s hands, Dajjal’s eyes brightened upon the sight of the Crown of Immortality, beckoning like a jewel in the dark.
Botis still flew through the air, looking to Dajjal below. “End this, so we may get on with our business. Let’s not toy with His Majesty any longer.”
“So be it,” Dajjal said as he looked menacingly toward the Hell Knight, his eyes no wider than slits. “I will certainly end this,” he muttered while summoning coils of hellfire to do his bidding.
Botis followed suit, summoning a flaming sphere. Aiming it at the King’s chest, the Hell Knight sent it hurtling that way.
That’s when Dajjal let loose with his own attack, his gambit now in play.
While most of the hellfire slithered toward Thrym, one of the snaking tendrils tore away toward Botis, seizing the unsuspecting Knight by the leg. It burned his armor before pitching him into Thrym’s gaping chest.
Botis was disoriented, clambering to get out of the cavity, but it was too late. Looking out with his demonic eyes, he saw his own attack barreling at him. It struck like a bomb, killing Thrym at last while obliterating the Knight armor. It wasn’t over yet, as Botis – barely conscious – saw Dajjal’s flames inbound.
“At last, there is peace,” Dajjal said proudly.
Walking over to Thrym’s massive finger, his body mere shards and vapor, the Grand Demon stood reveling over his Crown. Sword in hand, Dajjal cleaved the finger in two, sliding off the gilded halo.
“Dajjal…” came a haggard voice from above.
“Botis,” Dajjal said with a tone of surprise. “I expected you to be dead, yet here you are. Quite a resilient creature, aren’t you? It’s a shame and a waste to lose your potential, having fought for the wrong side.”
“You… will never… win.” Botis said as he hung over the jagged edge of Thrym’s chest remains. Without armor to have protected him from the last blast, the demon’s host was badly burned, skin charred and split with painful lacerations.
“I beg to differ, my friend,” Dajjal said triumphantly.
Without further delay, he held the Crown over his head and attempted to put it on. There was some resistance – as if two magnets were repelling each other – but after some struggle the demon managed to get the treasure to stay put on his head.
Once his hands were clear, the halo hummed before bursting into a flames, the gold becoming black with cracks of molten orange and the flames forming the tynes of a crown.
Dajjal’s eyes grew brighter, filling with an energy that swept away the fatigue of battle. The woun
ds he received closed tightly and the pain from them lessened. However, one thing that did not return was his missing wing, lost forever and leaving him less than perfect.
“Dajjal… no…” Botis pleaded, knowing his own fate but unsure of the fate of the future, now that there were no Hell Knights to stop Dajjal’s grand crusade.
“Goodbye, last bastion of Lucifer,” said Dajjal cruelly across an evil grin. Raising his fingers, he saw Botis close his eyes in waiting. Dajjal snapped his fingers and ensured Botis would never see light again.
“At last Crosse,” Dajjal muttered smugly amidst a shower of red, “I’ve beaten you…”
ADRIENNE WAS SITTING in a rigid chair, one of a pair that were swapped out for the others. These were just as uncomfortable, positioned underneath a view of the southern span of New York City. It was December thirty-first and rain had started falling in the late hours, cascading down the kaleidoscopic window well after the sun yielded to darkness. The sounds of water hitting the smooth glass was gentle, urging her to sleep, and she was so close to complying.
There came a gentle knock on the door and it opened along with her sleepy eyes, a large figure coming into the softly lit room. She wasn’t worried, recognizing the outline of Gage’s physique – specifically his untamed head of hair. A second figure slunk in behind him, Marcus looking the worst he had ever done, but he was alive.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” Gage said with a clotted voice, carrying the harshness of the wintery wasteland all the way back with it. He walked over and pulled her head into his chest, bending over to kiss the top of it. “So, how’s our man doing?”
Marcus walked between them and the hospital bed, taking Joey by his comatose hand; it was rigid and cool. He looked as if he were sleeping and that’s what Marcus chose to envision him doing. That was before he noticed Joey wasn’t breathing, his own stomach lurching at the revelation. “What happened here?” he asked, unnerved.
The Devil's Highway (Journeyman Book 4) Page 20