by Ben Cassidy
The demon snapped its giant head around towards Kendril and opened its mouth.
“—places, I will not be afraid—”
Kendril struck again, feeling the heat of the burning beast on his face and hands.
The leg bone shattered.
The beast toppled, giving a wailing screech. Its wings flopped and waved, tearing up nearby cobblestones. One of the wings lashed out and took the top off the plaza’s fountain.
It fell with a crash.
Kendril didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t quit.
“—You are with me, I am not alone—”
The demon screamed from a mouth with no throat and no lungs.
Kendril brought the halberd down on its head in a mighty two-hand blow.
The skull was wrenched open by the steel blade.
Kendril hammered the weapon down again and again on the creature’s head.
The beast gave one last strangled roar, then lay still.
Kendril turned towards the rift.
He could see into it, right into the Void. The sight almost drove him mad, almost caused him to fall to the ground in a crazed stupor.
There were legions of them. Legions of demons just inside, waiting for their first taste of the mortal realm, waiting to take back the world they believed was theirs.
Smoke stung Kendril’s eyes, the falling fire burned at him, wisped all around him like flaming raindrops.
“You are not alone,” he gasped, repeating the words over and over. “You are not alone, you are not alone, you are—”
Then he saw it. Through the fire, through the smoke, in the near-continual flashes of lightning.
The high priest, the one Kendril had shot. His body hung in the air just in front of the gate, still burning like a piece of slowly melting wax.
It was him, Kendril realized. That man, his body.
The blood from the sacrifices had broken the veil between the Void and Zanthora. But something else was needed, a token to keep the gate open, to establish a physical link between the worlds.
For Indigoru, it had been the Soulbinder itself, merging the demon with Lady Dutraad.
Here, it was the priest.
His burning body was acting as a huge Soulbinder.
Joseph started forwards.
Kara grabbed the scout’s arm and yanked him back.
“Let me go!” he shouted. “Kendril—”
Maklavir took hold of Joseph’s other arm and helped pull him back under cover of a building. “Kendril’s mad!” the diplomat shouted over the din. “If you go out there you’ll be killed too!”
As if to punctuate his words, a flaming house across the street collapsed, sending up a whirling furnace of smoke and sparks.
Joseph turned, an angry response already on the tip of his tongue.
It evaporated as soon as he saw Kara’s face.
“Joseph, please—” she urged.
He looked back towards where Kendril had vanished amid the clouds of smoke in the plaza. Fire was falling fast and furious from the purple sky above. The whole city was one flaming inferno as far as the eye could see.
Joseph glanced back down the street, only to see a wall of fire blocking the way to the bridge.
They were trapped.
The heat increased with each step Kendril took. It scorched his face and his hands. Sweat covered his body, made his hands slick on the handle of the halberd.
He turned his face, unable to stand the intense glare and wave of heat that emanated constantly from the open gate.
Kendril knew what he had to do. He had to close that gate. There was only one way to do it.
And his time was running short.
Another ear-shaking roar erupted from the Void gate, followed by a myriad of cackling screams.
The demons were coming. In seconds they would rush through, first dozens, then hundreds, then thousands.
Kendril kept moving forward.
The heat was intense. Steam wisped up from the ground. The air shimmered and danced before him.
Kendril’s face felt scorched, as if someone had pressed a hot iron against it. He turned his head, raising the halberd to strike. His black cloak was actually smoking. So were his gloves.
Before him was the burning body of the cultist priest, hanging impossibly in the air just a few feet off the ground. A low, sonorous chanting came from it, as if in death the cursed soul of the man was damned to repeat the same spell over and over.
Kendril could see the demons through the gaping tear in space just beyond. There were dozens more of the gigantic skeleton-demons, pawing the ground and roaring. The sky on the other side was black with the winged bat-creatures. There were tens of thousands of them, more than could be counted. Other things moved in the dark fire of the Void, impossible monstrosities that snaked and lumbered, skittered and crawled. A cacophony of noise jittered out of the rift.
Kendril screamed from the pain. Fire erupted on his cloak and over his left arm. His face was burning, burning—
He kept moving, trying to protect his body with his outstretched arm.
You are not alone.
Kendril brought the halberd down on Dannon’s burning form.
There was hideous scream and a flash of blinding light.
Kendril felt pain, then nothing at all.
Chapter 20
Snow fell in the open plaza. It was dark, gray with the ashes of the smoke that hung like a shroud over Vorten. The city was burning. Fire was blazing in every direction, but the purple clouds were gone. The raining fire had ceased.
The Void gate had closed. Where once there had been a huge gaping hole between worlds, there was now nothing at all. If not for the scorched cobblestones it would have been impossible to tell anything had ever been amiss there.
Joseph ran out into the open plaza, feeling the snow pelt against his face. Kara and Maklavir ran behind him, followed by Gradine and the handful of gendarmes that were left.
Kendril lay in the middle of the Plaza, face down. His black cloak was smoldering.
Joseph ran up to him, and patted out a fire that was still simmering on his friend’s arm. He turned Kendril over.
From behind, Kara gasped.
Maklavir stared, his face pale. “Great Eru,” he whispered.
Joseph stared at his unconscious friend for a long moment.
Kendril was badly burned. The left side of his face was a twisted, raw mess of scabs and blisters. Almost half the hair from his head was missing, fused into a lump of scorched red skin.
Joseph bit his lip. He gently tugged on Kendril’s smoking sleeve.
Parts of the Ghostwalker’s left arm and hand were similarly burned.
Maklavir staggered to one side. He looked as if he was going to be ill.
Kara dropped down to her knees on the wet cobblestones. Her eyes were filled with tears.
Joseph tugged loose his herb satchel. It was almost empty. He rummaged inside, then pulled out a small bottle of white cream. He scooped his fingers inside, trying to get as much out as he could.
“It’s done.” Gradine stared around the plaza blankly. “It’s…over. He closed the gate.”
Joseph applied the white cream Kendril’s burned face. It was a special honey herbal mix, designed for burns. It would help numb the pain and hopefully prevent an infection.
Still, the pain would be intense. Joseph was grateful his friend was unconscious.
A lone screeching wail rose above the firestorm that covered the city. It echoed through the inferno, utterly inhuman.
“What on Zanthora was that?” Gradine clutched his soot-covered carbine. “Another demon?”
Joseph looked grimly towards the north. “The only demon left in Zanthora.”
Maklavir adjusted his cap nervously. “Indigoru? She sounds…upset.”
Kara readied her bow. “We have to go. We can’t stay out here in the open.”
“Go?” One of the gendarmes gave a harsh laugh, his f
ace red from the heat. “Where are we going to go? Look around.”
Joseph stood, wiping soot from his face.
Fire danced crazily in blazing vortexes over the buildings all around the edge of the plaza. In each direction there was nothing but a burning wall of death.
“There must be…” Maklavir stared paled-faced at the destruction all around them. “There must be hundreds of dead out there. Thousands.”
The keening cry, eerie and ghostlike, came again over the fires to the north. It was filled with rage.
Kara lifted her head. “It’s getting closer.”
“Great Eru,” Gradine swore. “She’s coming this way.”
“We did just destroy her Void gate,” Maklavir remarked drolly.
Kara arched an eyebrow. “We?”
Joseph sheathed his rapier. “The sewers.”
Kara looked at him. “Underground? We’d be safe from the fire, at least…”
“Safe?” The gendarme pushed back his bearskin hat, his eyes wild. “What if the sewers collapse? Or fill with smoke? We’ll suffocate.”
Maklavir nodded sagely. “An enclosed tunnel could become a deathtrap if fire gets inside.” He gave Joseph a sidelong glance. “No to mention if a pocket of gas down there ignites.”
“Lucky for you all, then, I’m here,” said Joseph with a humorless smile. “If I can find my way through a forest I can get us through a sewer well enough.”
The wail came again, long and clear. The sound was definitely getting closer.
“It’s not ideal, but the way I see it we don’t have another good option.” Joseph glanced around the open space of the plaza. “Going underground is our best chance to get out of this city alive. Unless, of course, any of you want to face down Indigoru when she comes.”
Kendril moaned.
Kara knelt down next to him. “Kendril?”
The Ghostwalker coughed, then gasped in pain.
“Lie still,” Kara warned. She looked up at Maklavir and Joseph helplessly.
“Fire…my face…” Kendril cried. He tried to get up, but collapsed back down with another gasp.
Joseph grabbed Gradine by the shoulder. “Quickly, find us some kind of sewer grate somewhere on the edge of the plaza.” He got down by the injured Ghostwalker. “Kendril, you’re not on fire. You’ve been burned across your face and arm. I’ve spread an ointment on it, but you have to rest.”
Kendril laid his head back on the cobblestones. Flecks of dirty snow melted on his scarred. “Hurts…” he breathed.
Kara put a hand on his shoulder. “Hang in there, Kendril. We’ll get you out of here.”
“The…gate?” Kendril wheezed.
“Gone,” said Joseph. “You did it, Kendril. Eru only knows how, but you did it.”
The wailing cry came again.
Kendril opened his right eye. “Indigoru. She’s…coming.” His face flinched in pain.
Gradine came running back over, gray snow spotting his uniform. “There!” He pointed back behind him. “As sewer cover.”
“Get it open,” Joseph commanded.
“Leave me.” Kendril took deep, heavy breaths. His body shook. “Get…out of…here.”
“Sorry old boy,” said Maklavir with a grim smile, “but your penance or whatever it is is going to have to be paid back another day.” He nodded to Kara. “Here, help me with him.”
The redhead nodded. She stopped suddenly, staring off to the east.
Maklavir and Joseph followed her gaze.
There, above the tall flames that leapt high above the rooftops came a faint gray glow along the horizon.
“Dawn,” said Maklavir softly. “Morning is coming. I’d almost forgotten there was such a thing.”
“We’ll talk later,” Joseph said abruptly. “Get Kendril over to that storm drain. I’ll—”
A golden glow intermingled with the orange and red fires just to the north. A piercing scream echoed down through the plaza.
Joseph drew his sword. “Go! Now!”
Maklavir and Kara needed no second urging. They supported the wounded Kendril the short distance to the open sewer cover.
The Ghostwalker gasped and panted with each step. The orange light of the fires showed his wounds to be even worse than they had appeared before.
Gradine and another gendarme helped Kendril down into the sewer, then Kara.
Joseph backed cautiously towards the entrance, his sword out.
The golden glow became brighter and brighter, moving through a tempest of flame that no mortal could withstand.
“Come on, Joseph!” Maklavir shouted. He jumped down into the sewer below.
Joseph turned towards the sewer opening.
Indigoru entered the plaza.
She glided over the cobblestones like a swooping bird, surrounded by a shimmering light. The Soulbinder still hung around her neck, blazing like an angry red eye. She was beautiful, magnificent, and terrifying.
Her eyes turned across the smoke-shrouded plaza and fell on Joseph.
Joseph turned and ran for the sewer entrance.
He could hear the demon scream behind him, her voice piercing through the roar of the flames. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to.
Indigoru was coming after them.
Joseph half-slid and half-fell into the opening. He slammed the grate shut behind him, for whatever good it might do.
Smoke hung in curls on the ceiling of the arched sewer tunnel. Still, there was a chill in the air down here. Frost clung to the walls and walkways. The turgid water itself ran slowly, covered with white patches of ice. Red light flickering in from sewer grates gave the sewers an eerie glow.
Joseph ran down the right-hand walkway, slipping and skidding over patches of ice.
Ahead the others were ducking under an archway that led into another section of the sewers. Maklavir and Kara were supporting the barely-conscious Kendril.
Lieutenant Gradine looked back at him quizzically. “Where—?”
“Go!” shouted Joseph.
The wail of Indigoru came from behind them, echoing down into the slime-covered vaults.
Kara turned her head around, her eyes wide. “Eru protect us.”
Joseph grabbed Kendril and helped propel the injured Ghostwalker through the archway.
From down the tunnel they could hear the sewer grate clang loudly.
Joseph turned back around and put his shoulder against a rusted iron door that hung on its hinges against the wall. He pushed on it, looking back at Maklavir. “Help me!”
The diplomat gave the mold and rust-covered door a disgusted look. “Great Eru, my clothes are already ruined enough without—”
Indigoru’s golden glow shone down the tunnel. A wailing scream pounded down the walls, piercing their ears with its shrill cry.
Maklavir adjusted his cap. “Right then.” He threw himself against the door.
The pair grunted and heaved, pushing with all their might.
The iron door squealed like a dying pig, slowly swinging shut on its ancient hinges.
Indigoru shrieked again. Her light flooded the tunnel, as bright as daylight.
Kara leaned a gasping Kendril against the wall, then threw herself against the door as well.
The three of them pushed.
The light came closer, becoming almost blindingly bright.
The door slammed shut with a thunderous boom.
Indigoru’s light ceased as abruptly as a candle guttering out.
“Run!” Joseph panted. He grabbed the handle and twisted it with all his strength.
Maklavir grabbed the handle and helped.
Kara took a step back and readied her bow with trembling hands.
The door buckled as if a massive hand had struck it.
Maklavir flew back and landed hard on the walkway.
Joseph grunted, then jerked the handle.
It clicked shut.
Joseph stepped back again just as the door rang again.
The metal den
ted slightly.
Kara breathed a cloud of white into the cold air. “Eru in Pelos—”
Kendril climbed painfully to his feet. He balanced against the wall.
There was another, final scream of exasperation from the other side of the door. The light under the crack of the door began to fade.
Lieutenant Gradine stepped forward, his carbine pointed at the door. “We can’t fight her. Nothing can fight that.”
“We have to.” Kendril leaned against the wall and pulled out a pistol with a hiss of pain. He gritted his teeth, then began to reload the weapon in slow, halting movements.
Joseph stepped back. He was sweating, despite the freezing temperature. “Kendril, don’t move. The pain—”
“Don’t tell me about…pain,” Kendril panted. “She’s coming back. She’ll…” He took a deep breath, his eyes watering. “She’ll find a way.”
Joseph back down the tunnel they were in.
“We have to kill her, Joseph,” Kendril said between his teeth. “It’s the…only way. We have to—” He gave a sudden flinch of pain and sank down against the wall.
“Kill her?” Gradine’s glanced fearfully at the closed door. “How in Zanthora are we supposed to do that?”
Kendril looked up at the gendarme officer. “We trap it.”
“We can’t stand around and debate,” Maklavir said quickly. “We have to move.”
Joseph nodded slowly. “You’re right.” He glanced at Gradine. “Take your men and head for safety.”
The gendarme nodded in relief. “What about you?”
“I’m staying behind,” Joseph said. “Kendril’s right. We have to kill this demon, or it’s going to kill us.”
One of the gendarmes stepped forward. “We’re no cowards, sir. If you’re going to make a stand—”
Joseph shook his head. “I’ve seen this demon in action. Numbers won’t help. We have to fight smart.” He looked down at Kendril. “We have to trap it.”
The Ghostwalker forced himself to breathe slowly and steadily, trying to manage his discomfort. “You have a plan?”
Joseph shrugged. “An idea. Eru only knows if it will work or not.” He looked over at Maklavir. “You still have any of those explosives?”
The diplomat pulled back his cloak and opened a satchel. “A few grenades. The rest of me is scorched, but at least the fire didn’t get those—”