by Adams, Tom
They drifted over the monstrous horde, speechless with horror at the atrocity Shamon had engineered. They decided to name the types as they discovered more of them. The little toothed critters were Anklebiters while the taller, androgynous humanoids were Wool-whores. The comedy names served to lessen the terror threatening to swamp them—at least in part. When it came to the last breed, Merrick began to doubt the allies’ chances of victory. They called the fifteen foot monstrosities Doubleheads. There were well over a hundred of them. They looked unwieldy, but as they observed them for a few minutes, Celestia and Merrick could see they moved with inhuman speed, floating above the other troops like grey kites of death. Their parchment-like cowls billowed in the wind casting dread shadows over the ground.
Jason’s going to need to tackle those bastards early on, Merrick sent. They seem more disciplined than the other breeds and Christ knows how they inflict damage—I bet it’s not pretty.
Shamon will need to issue orders to the troops. Let’s see if we can identify the Ukurum officers, Celestia sent.
They didn’t need to look for long. Armoured Necrolytes moved through the ocean of monsters, growling orders in their gutteral tongue. Every so often they cracked thorn-tipped whips to bring the more chaotic troops into line. The humanoid Ukurum had positioned themselves two hundred yards behind the main body of monsters in fortified command posts. They held commanding arms in the air, although what this accomplished was far from clear. These posts were interspersed among hundreds of shuffling Amorphic. Directly behind, columns of Necrolytes wielded javelins or iron crossbows. Still further back were huge catapults, loaded with pitch-coated projectiles.
How far do they go? Merrick sent. There’s fucking thousands of them.
Look, up there on the higher slopes, sent Celestia.
They flew to where she indicated and saw dozens of outlandish-garbed warriors.
I recognise some of them, Celestia sent. A mixture of illusionists, far-seers and thaumaturgists. They are former members of the Ardus Obsidian order—a potent group of adepts.
They attempted to traverse closer to the group but met with a resistance akin to slamming into a brick wall.
Merde, I wasn’t concentrating—I’ve tripped an astral sensor.
Time to retreat?
Oui, rapidement.
Merrick sensed his astral form sucked backwards as a leaf in a hurricane. The union with his body left him wheezing for breath, but Celestia gave him no time to rest.
“Take us back,” she said, they will be upon us in seconds—and this time, no insects.”
~~~
“It’s useful intelligence,” said Jason. “Broadcast the Ukurum positions to our command posts. We’ll get our bowmen to target the positions you’ve suggested.”
“Will do,” Merrick replied. “Have we suffered any enemy surveillance ourselves?”
“Two attempts. Pretty crude. Our far-seers closed them down before they could see anything important.”
There were fifteen minutes to go and Merrick could sense the boiling cauldron of anticipation amongst the allied armies, enveloping them like a dense cloud. “We could do with a pair of eyes behind their lines during the battle. They may well have moved their command posts since we penetrated their defences.”
Jason shook his head as he pored over a map. “They’re ready for you now, it’s not worth the risk.”
Merrick accepted the judgement and ran to the command tent where Celestia and three other Hierophants gathered. He relayed the message as Jason had asked, but a loud booming across both sides of the valley interrupted him.
Celestia and Merrick looked at each other.
“It’s started,” she said.
~~~
Shamon viewed his troops from a vantage point high up a mountain. He saw them in the waters of a large vessel resting on a pedestal in front of him. Each time he disturbed the surface, the view changed from one side of the battlefield to the other. He saw through the eyes of falcons and kites as they swooped up and down the valley at his command.
Lotus stood at his side. “The first assault is going well,” she said.
Shamon nodded. “I almost feel sorry for them. They could not have foreseen the havoc my creations would unleash, despite the attempts of Whyte and Barone to warn them.”
A spidery, pitiless blackness consumed Lotus’ eyes. She saw the carnage inflicted by the double-headed breed and a deep, callous heat infused her.
“Are you sure they didn’t see what lies in wait further up the ravine?”
“I am certain,” he replied. “But the way the battle is going, we may not need to invoke it. Look how the enemy is swept aside with each pass of my pets.”
Lotus watched, her only regret being she couldn’t partake in the slaughter herself.
~~~
Karapetian looked on in frustration as the tide of Ukurum swamped the allies’ forces. The initial barrage of arrows and boulders from the Hierophant troops had hinted at an early victory as large swathes of Ukurum had fallen under the rain of projectiles. He had given the order for an immediate advance to press home the advantage, but this had proved to be their undoing. The purpose of the Wool-whores was revealed with sickening suddenness as their battered corpses were thrust aside by the sheltered swarm of Anklebiters underneath. They advanced on the allies like black oil, flowing across the river shallows and along the valley floor. Brave Warriors had their legs bitten from beneath them by the scurrying beasts. No shields or line of defence could resist their onslaught. They moved too fast and swamped the allies with their numbers.
Jason had given the order for Merrick to cleave the air and deliver two waves of Magickal Warriors to the South and North of the Ukurum. For five precious minutes the enemy appeared routed, until billowing, shrouded death descended on them from above. The Doubleheads spread their cowls like giant floating manta rays over the allies. Everything they touched turned to dust, including the Simiata. Jason had held two back and was now reluctant to release them for fear of losing their strongest weapon in an instant.
“Jason,” Karapetian said over the radio, “Call a retreat. Gather our troops amongst the forests—it may give them cover from the Doubleheads at least.”
Jason didn’t need telling twice, yet Karapetian saw with a sinking heart that the allies were reduced in number by a third as they retreated. He looked to the higher ground above his vantage point and saw with growing gloom there was only one battalion of Vril left in reserve.
Naomi, beside him, directed her troops to ready themselves. “May Aiwas preserve us,” he said to her. “I hope your army can turn the tide. Otherwise we’ll be undone.”
~~~
Merrick boiled with frustration. No matter how many times he and Celestia reported troop movements, the allies were so poorly equipped for the threat of Shamon’s monsters that any retaliation on their part was immediately quashed. He hadn’t counted on the interference he would receive from the suffering of thousands either. At times, it was more than Celestia and he could bear, forcing them over and over again to retract their astral forms.
The Anklebiters were a hideous force to begin with, but they could be overwhelmed by relentless bludgeoning with clubs or war hammers, and the intervention of Blazej’s Mage Warriors beat them back. The greatest horror had been the Doubleheads. The swathe of destruction they meted out turned the tide of battle within minutes and they didn’t seem to show any sign of fatigue. The allies had only shot two of them down. A hail of projectiles aimed at their headpieces proved to be a winning combination, but the accuracy required while they swooped and shifted was too much for even the keenest eyed bowman. Once they detected the allies strategy, they made a point of turning their cowl openings away from their antagonists. They didn’t seem dependent on a sense of sight.
Merrick could stand it no longer. “Celestia, I’m going down. I can’t do anything by just watching from here.”
“Stop and think for a minute, Merrick. There’s no way you
can survive down there. How will you—”
“I can look after myself. If I get into a tight corner, I’ll just realm jump.”
“Don’t do it, you’re not—”
He never heard the end of her sentence. With a wave of his hand he was gone.
He stepped through a gateway into chaos. The melee was more savage than he could have possibly imagined. Even though the air crackled with the energy of his arrival, there were few on the battlefield who noticed. All around him the sound and smell of death reigned. Creatures cried and roared; some in pain, some in battle-fury. Above him floated the double-heads, descending without warning and converting all they touched into motes of dust that swept in the wind towards the allied ranks. He turned his face, grit-blasted with the cremated remains of his comrades, and tried to anticipate the next combatant. The powder that blackened his face and got in his eyes coated him in grim death.
Through the clouds of ash he perceived rather than saw a malignant figure, dealing welts of death in the form of white-hot flares. As understanding dawned on Merrick, the Pyronaut materialised through a break in the dust cloud. It sensed him and turned its head in his direction.
I see you, Psychonaut. Know this: you shall be consumed by my fire.
Then the smoke obscured it again.
Not yet, motherfucker, he sent.
But Merrick had more immediate concerns. The anklebiters came as a swarm. Next to him, they overwhelmed a bulbous-headed Hierophant. Whether a he or she, he could not tell, but they covered its belly and chewed through the abdomen in seconds. Intestines, liver and kidneys were devoured in as short a time.
The barbarity oppressed Merrick so much he became transfixed. Many of the razor-toothed monstrosities had completed their meal and flowed off the eviscerated corpse, trampling their neighbours in the process. Although eyes were absent, they detected Merrick and scurried towards him. He had enough presence of mind to draw his sabre, but scant prowess to resist their onslaught. He swung the sword in a low arc, slicing through four of the beasts in one stroke, yet the wave didn’t diminish one iota. If anything, they came with increased vigour.
Blind panic took over as he beat at them until he was sure his arm would drop off with fatigue. They were like a multitude of terriers, only one hundred times as deadly. One attached itself to his lower leg and, if it hadn’t been for the armoured grieves, would have taken it clean off. He tried to back up, but was pressed against a steep incline, the ground a quagmire.
Disaster struck when one foot slipped and he fell on his back. There was just enough time for him to think he was done for, when a familiar shape jumped from behind into the midst of the Anklebiters.
Arun was a dervish, spinning round, wielding his halberd in successive sweeps of death. His bionic arm gave strength and speed to the strokes such that the blade became a blur to Merrick. He took advantage of the momentary respite and regained his feet.
“We’re taking a beating,” Albany said. The man had appeared at Merrick’s side, grabbed his arm and pulled him up the hill. Merrick could see the retreat occur all around him. The enemy were beating back the Hierophants towards a forest, its depths green and dark with the promise of sanctuary or further death. The wool whores wielded giant axes that reduced their foes to nothing more than a pile of choice meat cuts. Merrick knew they would make short work of the vegetation and reduce the allies to a rout.
“I could get us out of here,” Merrick said.
Albany glared at him. “My place is on the battlefield. Your’s is up there at the command post. You’re more hindrance than help here.”
“I can’t leave you,” Merrick replied.
Albany backed him up against the trunk of a conifer. “This is no time for heroics, dammit. Relay our retreat to Karapetian.” Merrick saw the courage and despair in his eyes. His senses told him Albany’s judgement was borne of pragmatism.
“Tell him to send down whatever is left of our forces,” Albany said, “and maybe he can prevent a slaughter.”
~~~
Chapter 41
I
Jason looked out between the roots of an overturned tree. Johnny was on the other side of the depression observing the Ukurum through field glasses. He’d taken a few cuts and bruises but between them they were in good shape. The same couldn’t be said for those they’d left behind on the floodplain. Denzel and Lucy snuffled and rooted around in the hollow, chewing on grubs and worms they found in the soil. They stunk to high heaven but it was preferable to the stench of death that lay all around.
He lifted a radio and pressed the send button.
“Arun, are you receiving me?”
There was a crackle, then the voice of the Vietnamese. “I’m here, Jason.”
“How many men do you have left?”
“Less than five hundred.”
“We have even fewer. Any illusionists?”
“Only Aislynn. The Necrolytes have taken all the others.”
Jason tried to weigh up their situation. How had the Ukurum managed to single out the Hierophant illusionists? They were some of the first to fall, and their constructs seemed to dissolve as soon as they created them. Shamon had learned from their previous encounters and caught the Allies napping. He blamed himself, but knew it was unlikely he would live to tender his resignation.
The radio buzzed again. “I see someone approaching through the smoke,” Arun said.”
“It’s a woman,” said Johnny. “A damn ugly one at that.”
Jason grunted as he recognised the figure—Theta. “Hold your fire everyone. She’s invoked a mage-lock. Let’s see what she wants.”
Theta stopped. In her hand she held her morningstar. “Hierophants,” she shouted. “I would meet with your commander. Let them come forward, the mage-lock guarantees their safety. Jason saw the orange, glowing signature in the air and stepped out. He picked his way over the forest litter and stopped before her.
“Speak, Ukurum,” he said. The loathing on his face was obvious.
“Your forces are spent. There is nothing but annihilation left for you.”
“So why parley? Just get on with it.”
She lowered her morningstar and moved a few steps closer. “I wanted to see the defeat in your eyes, Jason. Don’t you wish your master had chosen otherwise when we met all those months ago? You could all be sharing in the conquest, rather than skulking like rats.”
“Regrets are for the vanquished. You haven’t won yet.”
“How long do you think you can hold out here? I give it thirty minutes at most.”
Jason stared at her with a face of stone. “We will fight to the last person. For every man that falls, we’ll take ten of yours with us.
Theta swung the Morningstar idly at her side like a pendulum. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Surrender now and we will let your remaining troops return to the hole you scurried from. All we ask is for you, Karapetian and your Psychonaut to be given into our hands. Oh, and the Barone slut. Lotus Hughes has a particular fate set aside for her.”
Jason didn’t need to even think about his response. “The answer is no.”
“Think of the bloodshed you would save.”
He turned his back on her and walked away.
She called after him, “Then we will slaughter every last man and woman.”
When Jason climbed back down behind the felled tree, he found Johnny looking through his glasses and smiling.
“I’m glad you’re facing death with a grin,” Jason said. “I’m going to give the order. Let’s take some of these bastards with us.”
“I’d hold off another minute if I were you,” Johnny replied, handing him the binoculars.
~~~
Merrick had rejoined Celestia, who greeted him by grabbing his tunic and shaking him with a force that belied her petite frame.
“Tu est un imbecile,” she said, “why can’t you use that head of yours for once instead of trying to prove to the world that your some kind of superhero.”
“Shh,” she cut him off. “Something’s happening down there.”
Through an instant mind-meld they saw the exchange between Theta and Jason. They also heard Johnny’s invitation to look in the direction of the mountains.
Vast murmurations of winged creatures blackened the sky to the south. They looked more like a living weather system than multitudes of wings and beaks.
Destain stepped up to join them. “What do you make of it?” Merrick asked him.
“It is either a final reprieve or the killing blow to our campaign,” the clairvoyant replied.
Two of the creatures at the front grew larger and more distinct. They were heading straight towards them.
A Hierophant commander lifted his sword and shouted his orders. “Raise your bows and take aim.”
“Wait,” Merrick cried. “Hold your fire.”
The commander gave Merrick a sharp look, but backed down in obedience.
Celestia’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “Je ne peux pas le croire, it is Biff.”
“Fuck me, you’re right,” Merrick said. He could see Biff clearly now, strapped onto the back of a flying predator. Another, carrying Hacker followed close behind. The reptiles circled round once, then came to rest with a flurry of leathern wings. Weapons were holstered under the beasts’ main saddles, including crossbows, quarrels and spears. More winged predators circled overhead, each carrying a passenger.
Hacker and Biff dismounted. Their combat fatigues were torn and filthy, but they were in good physical shape.
“Hey, Merrick,” Biff said and held out his hand.
Merrick took both their hands in turn, shaking them fervently. “You both survived. I’m amazed. What happened?”
“No time for a story, it looks like you’re in a spot of bother. Anything we can help out with?”
Merrick explained their predicament as quickly as he could, while the mercenaries’ faces grew sombre at the telling.
“So those fuckers that look like papier mache inquisitors are the problem?”