by R W Foster
Trying to show that I wouldn’t be intimidated, I twirled my sword before me, then snapped it down to my right. From the outside, I was bold, ready to fight. On the inside, not so much. The demon lowered its body, ready to pounce. I dropped my right foot behind me, turning to present a smaller target and to put more power behind my first swing. I brought my sword up into my left hand and grasped the weapon in a light yet firm grip. The demon took another slow step forward, this time moving the opposite arm and leg from last time.
The demon launched into its attack. The swinging sword was torn from my grasp, flying in one direction, and I in another. I rolled a few feet, and lunged upright. The demon was on me in an instant, ripping and clawing at my flesh. I threw up my forearms and knees, frantic to block the unrelenting assault. After fourteen hectic seconds, an opening appeared, allowing me to take ruthless advantage. The fiend swung both of its right arms at my head. I ducked under the upper fist, blocked the lower one with my forearms and launched my right knee up into its jaw, staggering the monster. The demon roared in frustration and swung both its left arms. I landed in a crouch. When both left fists whistled through the air over my head, my left elbow slammed into its right knee which buckled as it bellowed in pain and crashed to the ground. I rose to my feet and raced for my sword.
I reached the weapon, took it into my hands once more and then turned to the demon, ready to resume the battle on more equal terms. Moving faster that I imagined possible, the demon charged. When it reached me, I found myself lifted in the air. The demon had each of my limbs in one of its colossal hands. It roared in my face and then flung me. I flew on a short, hard trajectory and crashed into a wall. My skull bounced against it, sending sparkles of light shooting across my sight. The impact knocked the wind from me and caused my vision to go blurry. My ears rang, and I felt nauseous. Unsure of where I was, or what had happened to me, I pushed myself upright like I was moving through molasses, and saw two four-armed demons charging at me. I tried to get to my feet, but couldn’t seem to get my limbs to work together. The demon yanked me up and slammed me against the wall again. It began to batter me with its free fists. My body twitched and swung from the thud of its fists. ‘Interesting: I feel the impacts, but no pain.’
The demon flung me away from the wall again. My flight was once more short and pleasant. The landing, a lot less so. Fortune was on my side, the jarring landing served to clear the cobwebs from my mind. I rolled to my feet just as the demon landed hard where I had just been lying. Instinct had me rocketing my fist up to explode against its jaw as I shoved my feet against the ground to provide extra force. The demon’s head snapped back, and it crashed to the ground. Pain raced up from my damaged hand, grabbed a dance partner in my shoulder and did the tango in my skull to the tune of a throbbing headache. A copper taste entered my mouth causing me to spit to one side. Blood and a tooth hit the ground.
“You bastard.”
The demon which was just getting to its hands and knees. I ran up and punted the demon in its head as if trying to kick the winning fifty yard field goal at the Super Bowl with the entire New England Patriots defensive line attempting to stop me. The arch of my foot caught the beast on its jaw. My knee caught the side of its horn. The demon collapsed, semi-conscious. I collapsed, clutching my knee. I rolled around for a couple of minutes until the demon let out a gasping snore, reminding me of its presence. I got up, hobbled over and picked my blade up, swearing under my breath. I balanced on my non-bruised leg and kicked the other one out a few times, trying to work the pain out, set my foot back down and tested my weight. When my limb held up, I turned and limped back to where the demon was just beginning to stir.
‘Hey, I’m Dr. Gregory House.’ The demon had pushed itself back up to its hands and knees once more. I poised near its shoulders, my sword held tight in my hands above its neck and paused, waiting for the demon’s head to come further up. I brought the sharp blade down with all my might. A scream of fury issued from my lungs as the gladius impacted, then sliced though, the demon’s thick neck. Crimson blood shot up from the stump like a geyser, and splashed against me, hot and delicious. I stood over the demon corpse, savoring my victory. My chest heaved as I thrust my bloody sword in the air and bellowed my triumph to the sky.
Chapter 11
1
The environment changed in a hurry. The soft muddy ground solidified, and returned to stone and mortar. The wide open space soon developed walls and shrunk to a normal thirty meter by twenty-five meter room. The distant sky lowered until it became a stone ceiling. The mist faded and the light settled more to normal illumination for torches. Soon, the only legacies of my epic battle were my injuries and the granite stone with my name. Obeying impulse, I limped over and picked the, headstone, I guess you’d call it, up. ‘Strange.’ The rock seemed not as large as I remembered. In fact the piece of granite could fit in my pocket, so that’s where it went. I scratched at my belly and walked to the nearest wall, looking for a way out.
2
I found Lady Orwen at last. Even languishing in a filthy cell, dirty, with her hair matted and tangled and wearing a simple burlap shift, she still appeared regal.
“Greetings, Your Highness,” I said with a grin as I peered through the bars at her.
She leaped to her feet, an expression of shock on her face. “Carter, is that really you? I’m not imaging your presence, am I?”
I laughed. “No. I am indeed here, Your Majesty.”
Disbelief written on her face, she reached through the iron bars of her cell and touched my cheek with a rough, dirty palm. “Oh, thank Kellün! I thought I would never be freed from this infernal prison!”
“Hold on, Your Majesty. You aren’t free yet. I need to find a key to the lock.”
I first examined the bars, and discovered them to be dark with oil and whole. I wouldn’t be freeing her the same way I had myself. I searched around the chamber. I spotted an old wooden desk, a bookshelf and a chair. A few dusty tomes on the top the bookstand, a set of silver goblets and four silver candelabras rested on the next shelf, the third shelf had a wicker basket with a couple of rolls, a sprig of some brown grass-like substance and two large grey eggs within and the bottom shelf had a collection of ceramic dinnerware, a small chest and a stack of silver coins. The whole arrangement had me think about the videogame company Bethesda Softworks for some reason, but I couldn’t think of why. The desk had a silver plate, fork and a knife. The plate had an apple and a loaf of bread on it. ‘Bread, and an apple are going to be eaten with a knife and fork? What the actual fuck?!’ I shook my head and searched a bit further. Against the wall, behind the desk, sat an oak chest about two meters wide by one meter thick, and eighteen centimeters high. I went to my knees before the trunk, looking it over with care.
“What are you doing, Carter?”
“I’m checking for traps, Lady Orwen.”
“Be careful.”
I didn’t need her to tell me that. Playing BattleHammer with Anderson’s sadistic style had long ago trained me to be careful with opening strange boxes. I didn’t find anything, so I tried to open the chest. Of course, the thing was locked. I peered closer, paying more attention to the joints and rim of the lid than I had before. I discovered that the lid didn’t form a close seal; a two centimeter gap appeared near the hinges. I drew my sword and used it to move the chest with care away from the wall. I tensed, ready to leap away the moment something clicked. Fortune sat on my shoulder: the chest slid away from the wall without incident.
I soon had the knife in the crack and wiggling up and down. All I succeeded in doing was breaking the blade. I yelled in frustration, and hurled the broken utensil which lodged in the side of the bookshelf.
“I couldn’t do that again if I tried,” I said to no one in particular.
Lady Orwen laughed. “You doubt yourself too much, Carter.”
I tossed a grin her way, then turned back to the chest. I decided to try to shove my sword into the gap. The tip of the s
word slid in with no problem. I tried to push it in further, but nothing happened. I hit the pommel of the sword with the palm of my hand which drove the blade in another half-inch, wedging it in. I tried wiggling the sword, nothing, I tried pulling it back out, still nothing. I tried pushing the sword further into the crack: same results. I got mad, stood up and stomped on the blade. The lid broke free of its hinges, the sword bent and I now had a stinging foot to go with my bruised shin.
The contents of the chest caused me to forget about my pain. Inside sat a two foot flanged mace, three vials of a tan liquid, a purse of coins and a set of lock picks. The purse went into my pocket along with the lock picks. I approached Lady Orwen’s cell with the mace and the vials. I wanted her opinion on what the tan liquid might be.
“Your Highness, do you have any idea as to what these might be?” I asked, holding out the vials of liquid.
“By Kellün’s eyes, it’s alchemical fire! That is a rare and deadly substance, Carter.”
‘Oh, yeah, this is the BattleHammer version of white phosphorous.’
“Doesn’t it ignite when exposed to the air?” I asked.
“Yes. The fire created is so potent, water cannot extinguish it.”
‘Yep. White phosphorous.’
“We’ll use this on the lock if this mace doesn’t do the trick,” I said. “Unless you know how to use these.”
I held up the set of lock picks. Lady Orwen reached through the bars, plucked the picks from my fingers, inserted one into the lock, gave a quick twist and swung the door open. She then dropped the lock picks back into my hand. “No,” she said in a cheerful and relaxed voice. “Not a clue.”
I guffawed. “Excellent, Your Majesty. Do you mind if I hold on to the mace until we are able to locate another sword?”
“Give me the alchemical fire and we have a deal.”
I handed her the three vials and we headed back to the elevator. “Your Majesty, why did you not call on Azriel to free you?”
“I cannot call on him to aid myself. Only others,” she said without embellishment.
“That’s harsh.”
Lady Orwen smiled. “Not at all. One of Kellün’s tenants is that one should help themselves before seeking aid.”
“Hunh. Still strikes me as pretty harsh, but okay.”
We soon made it to the elevator. I slid the grate back and we stepped on. I pushed the control lever forward and we began to rise. ‘Odd we haven’t encountered anything since I freed Adora.’ No sooner than I had this thought, the corridors began to fill with the sound of something immense growling. ‘This isn’t going to be pretty.’ As the elevator rose further, the growls grew louder. The beast sounded hungry.
“Any ideas as to what this thing might be, Your Highness?”
“Sounds like a Lyxo demon,” Adora said.
“Ominous. What is a Lyxo demon?”
“They are hard to describe. Each one looks different, yet they all sound the same.”
My left eyebrow went up. Incredulity filled my voice. “And how is that?”
She smiled at the quirked eyebrow. “They each have three heads.”
‘Great. Just what I needed to hear about: a three headed demon waiting on the other side of the elevator grate, ready to snack on us.’ “Your Highness, how disappointed in me would you be if I told you I did not want to get off this elevator?”
“Truthful answer? Pretty disappointed. But I wouldn’t be too surprised.”
I nodded as I slid the grate open. “I figured as much. Stay here.”
“Where are you going?” Adora asked.
“To clear a demon from our path,” I said as if discussing the weather.
3
I moved away from the elevator and into a shadowy hallway. The growling ceased as soon as I had stepped off. The silence was oppressive and heavy. ‘The demon is stalking me.’ I moved with as much quiet and caution as possible. My mouth was open wide to minimize the sound of my breathing; my steps ginger and as light as feasible. My strained ears detected no noise at all. It didn’t help that my heart was racing in my ears. I got closer to the opening the light came from. The hallway hadn’t brightened as much as I had thought it would.
‘Oh. That’s why.’
4
The Lyxo demon crouched above the doorway, its three wolf heads turned to look at me. It had the huge upper torso of a wolf and the lower body of an enormous spider. When the demon saw I was aware of it, it growled which sounded like someone blowing bubbles into a thick stew and then amplified twenty times. The fiend showed me three sets of huge, yellow saliva covered fangs, then leaped at me. I dove under the monster and rolled to my feet, spinning back to face the Lyxo in time to spot the middle head’s upper lip shiver up into a snarl, then spit a line of greenish webbing at me. Dodging to my right made the demon squeal at me. The piercing noise went right through my ears and rattled around in my brain. I wiped tears of pain away and the demon charged at me.
This time, rather than dodging, I charged as well, readying my mace at the same time, prepared to slam the heavy weapon against one of the demon’s heads. That would have worked to perfection, except the damned thing swatted me with one of its forelegs. I flew across the room, slammed into a wall, and slumped to the ground, a little dazed yet somehow holding onto the mace. I came upright in time to see the Lyxo flying through the air at me. I brought the mace up and into its chest with both hands. Its pounce of victory turned into an ungainly splash attack which smashed me against the wall while hairy spider legs squirmed over me. The Lyxo squealed and mewled as it attempted to get its limbs back under its control. ‘Three pounds of steel slamming into its sternum must have scrambled its central nervous system.’ I fought my way out, and had almost gotten all the way free when one of the demon’s flailing limbs crashed my head into the wall. I blacked out for a few seconds, but came to again when I smelled burning demon flesh. ‘Oh my god, that’s putrid!’
The Lyxo demon was focused on Lady Adora Orwen who had ignored my advice and came to my rescue, herding her back into a corner of the room, swatting at her with alternating forelegs and snapping at her with all three wolf heads. Brown flames licked along its back. I bellowed a battle cry and leaped to the attack, mace gripped in both hands. The demon never looked around at me, just thrust its rear most left leg in my direction and bulls-eyed my family jewels. A brilliant white light flashed behind my eyes, all the air left my lungs in a rush and nausea swept through my body. I collapsed to the ground, holding my damaged parts. My stomach ached as I struggled not to puke my guts up. I was lost in my own world of agony until Adora’s scream of terror cut through the clamor in my head.
I rose wobbly to my feet and cast around for the flanged mace, fining it not far from me. I bent to lift the weapon, feeling as if my intestines were filled with sharp rusty nails poking them with every breath. I hefted the mace and swung it with all the force I could muster. In my condition, it wasn’t much. I got lucky and the three pound weapon found a sensitive part of the Lyxo demon to collide with. The demon let out an ungodly yowl and whipped around to face its tormentor: me. The beast did its damnedest to chomp on my body, leaving me to backpedal like mad. In my fright, I forgot all about the flanged mace in my hand.
In my peripheral vision, Adora wound up and threw one of her remaining vials of alchemical fire at the Lyxo demon’s head. The glass tube crashed right in the center of its middle skull and exploded into flame. She could have pitched for the Baltimore Orioles. The demon screamed in pain and panic as its head burned. I stepped up and began to hammer at its legs as the monster whirled in circles, panicked. The Lyxo spotted me through what must have been a haze of pain and lunged, all three sets of jaws opened wide. The last vial flew through the air as I swung for the fiend’s left most skull. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect: the last vial entered its mouth just as my mace slammed against the bottom of its jaw. The teeth of the left most head crushed the vial as they broke.
The Lyxo roared in pa
in as the alchemical fire in its mouth and throat burst into flame. Burning demon flesh fell in chunks around me. The stench was almost overwhelming. The Daemon slumped to the floor, defeated. I stood, bent by the weight of the mace and the spent adrenaline of the battle. The mace got snatched from my hand as the demon snarled once more.
“AZRIEL, LEND ME YOUR STRENGTH!” Adora bellowed as she slammed the flanged mace onto the top of the remaining head of the Lyxo demon.
The head of the mace glowed white just as it smashed in the demon’s skull. Black ichor splashed up into the air and fell on the two of us. The demon’s legs gave one final twitch and were still. Lady Orwen dropped the mace with a hiss of pain. To my surprise, the weapon smoked a bit. Adora had her fist clenched tight. I took her wrist in my hand and was gentle when I opened hers which was red and blistered.
“By all the hells,” I whispered, “What happened to your hand?”
“I channeled Azriel’s power through the mace.”
I remembered what had happened in her father’s throne room when she summoned the angel to battle the Crimson Walker and grinned at her. “Well, at least you aren’t naked.”
She gave me a weird look. “What are you talking about?”
“When you summoned Azriel to battle the Crimson Walker, the power burned off all your clothes.”
“Crimson Walker? They only exist in legend.”
“They are quite real. I’ve seen one. You did, too. You summoned Azriel.”
“I’ve never summoned Azriel. How did you even know I could?”
“I’ve seen it.” I told her everything that had happened with the Crimson Walker.