“I get to kill this one,” said an Ugly with a shotgun. He leered at Wodan.
Wodan glared at him. I have to let go! Wodan thought. I can’t let him kill me… I have to let go!
He gave one last look at the Ugly. Something flickered on the man’s chest. A red dot of light danced wildly on him, then hovered on his neck. Another dot appeared, then moved to his head. Then another, two, three more. As the Ugly raised his shotgun to fire, a mass of red dots of light covered him.
***
When the storm still raged, a horse bearing a dead man scratched at the ground. The boy Maxil, alive but driven by fear, found the horse. He rode the horse, dead man and all. Exhausted and sure that he was dreaming, he found an angel clothed in white and blue armor. The angel took him to a place full of angels. They used their holy machines and contacted God. A proud warrior angel driven mad with sleep deprivation heard the prayer and arrived with a host of shining guardian angels bearing lances of black metal. Together they rode the storm in great machines with wings of steel feathers.
***
The raider aiming his shotgun down at Wodan exploded from a thousand points as the bullets of airborne Guardian snipers followed the course of their laser targeting systems. A mass of black helicopters brimming with machineguns bore down on them, their doors open wide revealing dozens of bright, shining white-armored Guardians.
A shower of meat fell past Wodan. He looked at one of the helicopters as it flew by, saw Maxil shouting and pointing, saw him surrounded by armored soldiers.
Barkus saw the helicopters before anyone else. He saw how the clouds were whipped apart by the blades of their wings. He crept back among the stones, far from the others. He felt his control of reality slipping through his fingers like water. Shadow covered him.
How things fall apart, he thought. How the gods betray.
The two Ugly bounded down the pass, nearly driven mad by the sight of the armored dragons. Their friend below waved to them wildly, then threw the bodies off of himself with panic-induced strength. They heard something slam into the ground behind them. One of them turned, a violent prayer of forgiveness pouring from his mouth even as he raised his gun. He saw a giant of a man covered in a psychotic mane of red hair, wearing white and blue rubber-and-steel armor, wielding a massive black automatic rifle.
Sevrik Clash slammed into the Ugly shoulder first, raising his open palm upward in a blow that shattered the man’s jaw, sent his teeth flying, then drove his nose deep inside of his skull. Another Ugly turned in time to see Sevrik swing the rifle into his face. The butt of the rifle crushed his skull instantly, spun his head around and broke his neck in thirty-seven different places. Sevrik flipped the rifle around and into his own armpit before the carcass hit the ground. The last Ugly raised his hands. Sevrik fired. The bullets tore through the raider’s torso, spilling his heart and lungs and ribs a hundred yards behind him.
Guardians dropped from the helicopters, covered the area in groups, called to one another in their clipped battle language. Sevrik raced to the edge where a group of Guardians were dangling a rope ladder.
Guardian medics grouped around Rachek, felt her pulse, then wrapped a tourniquet around her leg and guided a helicopter to a landing nearby.
Wodan grabbed the rope ladder, then felt it rise. Strong hands touched his shoulders and lifted him. He saw Sevrik bounding towards him, laughing hysterically, eyes bloodshot and creased but filled with life and light. A soft rain patted him. Blue brilliance shone along the mountain. The Guardians held him. He heard Agmar calling to him. Sevrik fell into him, covered him, wrapped him in a crushing bear hug and both of them shook, laughing and crying at once. Wodan shouted senseless words of happiness to his tutor. Sevrik held him close and welcomed him, welcomed him home.
To be continued in
Demonworld Book Two:
The Pig Devils
Demonworld Page 36