Dawn of Chaos

by Tony Donadio

  The refugees did not relent. Those who were still alive were the most determined of the group. They were the ones least likely to run, and most aware that their only chance of survival was a fight to the death.

  Knives stabbed, and claws raked; arrows flew, and wing slashed; clubs struck, and tail smashed. Blood black and red sprayed the alley as the demon took wound after wound. It was weakening, but the price was high. The desperate refugees were being killed, one by one.

  Diana slashed at Nalef’s good wing with her knife, leaving yet another gash that dripped dark ichor. It roared as the blade struck, and then spun to face her, eyes widening in mounting anger. Its talons raked the air, missing her again as she jumped quickly out of their way. Its tail lashed out as she did, and the bony protrusions hit another of the refugees in the side of the head. The woman flew backward, her face crushed and her neck broken.

  Nalef stalked toward Diana. She backed away from it slowly, glancing around for support. She knew that Cooper was standing away from the creature, near the end of the alley, behind her and to her right. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized that none of the other refugees was still standing. They were facing the monster alone.

  Cooper’s bow sang again. An arrow whistled past her, frighteningly close to her head. It hit Nalef in the chest, joining several other shafts that already stuck from the creature’s body. Along with the sword and pitchfork, they were beginning to make the monster look strangely, almost comically, like an enormous pincushion. But there was nothing comical in the murderous fury filling the demon’s eyes as it turned from Diana to face him.

  “Shit!” Cooper cursed.

  The demon’s mouth curled into what appeared to be a grin. The mid-joint on it’s bat-like wings sported a pair of prehensile claws, and these now curled around the hilt of the sword protruding from its back. Slowly, with a grunt of pain, it pulled the blade from its flesh. Then it reached up and took the weapon in a clawed hand.

  Cooper drew and fired another arrow as Nalef lumbered toward him. He didn’t stop. He fired again and again, his shots growing wilder and more desperate as the monster closed on him.

  Diana saw a slight movement among the bodies on the corpse-strewn ground. They had forgotten Jameson. One of his legs looked to have been shattered, and he must have passed out from the pain when he’d tried to stand on it. But now he was crawling, very slowly, teeth gritted, as the demon stalked past him. He was trying to reach a hatchet that one of the fallen refugees had dropped.

  The effort twisted his hip and elicited a fatal gasp of pain. The demon spun and stabbed downward. The innkeeper’s broken body collapsed to the cobblestones, his own sword sticking from the back of his head.

  Cooper loosed his last arrow, hitting Nalef in the face. The shaft glanced off the bone and ricocheted, leaving an ugly gash across its cheek. The monster roared angrily, and, leaving the sword in Jameson’s body, began striding toward the archer.

  Cooper dropped his bow and stared at the charging demon. The flames along the alley wall behind him had died out, but the stone still radiated a blistering heat. His eyes widened as he realized that he was trapped. There was nowhere for him to run.

  Diana looked around in desperation. The flames blocking the alley’s exit were burning strongly, still cutting off any escape. She searched the ground for other survivors, but all the eyes she saw were lifeless.

  All except two.

  A stab of relief ran through her when she saw Orion. He was blinking and shaking his head, trying to clear a stream of blood that ran from a cut in his scalp and into both eyes. He must have been knocked out, hitting his head on the cobblestones when the demon had stumbled over him. Now he was slowly trying to get back to his feet.

  Diana heard Cooper scream, once, in a voice that was suddenly choked off. She turned in time to see the archer die, the demon’s claws tearing into his throat.

  Her mind raced. She could see clearly that the battle had taken its toll on Nalef. Black blood streamed from at least two dozen wounds all across its body, and it was visibly slowed and weakened. She was unhurt, and aside from his cut, Orion didn’t appear to be hurt either. Together, they might still be able to beat the thing. He just needed a minute to clear his head, and then he would be back in the fight …

  A spike of fear ran through her as she remembered Jameson. Orion wasn’t going to get that minute. The demon would kill him as soon as it saw that he was still alive, before he had time to recover. Then she would be facing it alone — and it would finish her.

  The demon was taking its time with Cooper. Its many arrow wounds had enraged it, and it seemed to be relishing the archer’s death. That had gained her a few moments, at least, to come up with a plan, to think of something to buy Orion time to get back on his feet. And she had to do it before the demon made him its next target …

  Suddenly, she had it. It was so simple that she smiled.

  “Hey, demon-breath!” she yelled. “Don’t tell me that’s the best you’ve got?”

  Nalef dropped Cooper’s body and turned toward her. It glared as she danced in a little circle, waving her arms.

  “Some warrior demon you are!” she laughed. “Cut up like a roast by a few human civilians! What’s the matter, you get separated from the pack that was protecting you?”

  Nalef started to run toward her, bellowing incoherently. Diana was pretty certain that it was cursing her in its own language. Good, she thought. That’s it. You just so want to wring my neck, don’t you …

  Despite its injuries the demon closed the distance between them with surprising speed. Diana waited, standing, free hand on one hip. Her stance displayed a contemptuous disrespect for the monster that only seemed to enrage it further.

  A claw lashed at her neck as Nalef reached her. The blow should have taken her head from her shoulders, but she was ready for it. She ducked beneath it at the last moment and threw herself into a forward roll, making sure to do so on the demon’s right side. The crippled wing tried to move awkwardly to block her, but failed.

  She slashed at the creature’s groin with her knife as she slipped under its grasp. Then she was up again, making a show of dancing away from it and laughing.

  “Oh, what a prowess!” she cried, her voice thick with mockery. “What’s wrong, demon? Afraid that a little human girl will take your de-man-hood away from you?”

  Nalef bellowed with rage as it turned to face her. She saw with satisfaction that its face had become even redder than before. The knife-strike had barely scored the leather straps it wore — but trying to hurt it physically hadn’t been the point. Its ego, on the other hand, was another matter …

  “Girl!” it screamed. “I will rip out your beating heart with my claws and eat it!”

  Diana forced herself to smile as the demon surged toward her again. She tried to project an air of satisfied contempt, to control the fear that was starting to churn in the pit of her stomach. She’d acted on impulse in starting her taunts, knowing that she had to do something to save Orion from being slaughtered. Now she was beginning to understand just what a chance she had taken by goading the creature into a rage. If her gambit failed, it wouldn’t just kill her. Her death would be long, and the fiend would go out of its way to make certain that she suffered.

  Diana backed slowly away from the enraged demon, her knife held carefully before her. Her muscles tensed, preparing herself for another wild dodge.

  Get up, Orion! she thought desperately. I can’t do this without you!

  Prince’s Wrath

  The guards of company twenty-three attacked.

  Stefan drew the sword he’d taken from the post’s armory. To Randia’s horror, and before she could react, he leaped forward to charge with the rest. Arrows whistled over their heads as the group hit the monsters, screaming in desperate defiance.

  Surprised by their reckless charge, the front rank of the demons broke. The closest monster — a wolf-like beast with long fangs — fell, hit by the combined thrust of hal
f a dozen swords. The guards cheered.

  “Formation!” Ashrach yelled angrily. It strode forward, holding its enormous blade before it in one hand.

  “Stefan!” Randia cried. She raced forward, brandishing her knife. “Look out!”

  The demon waved a clawed hand, and the head of a guard next to the young prince snapped backward. He collapsed as though he’d been struck by a hammer, blood fountaining from his shattered face.

  “Form a line and hold it!” Ashrach bellowed. “Push them back! No one gets through!”

  A horned demon lunged from one side, reaching for Stefan. The prince’s eyes went wide as he tried desperately to bring his blade around to defend himself.

  Kay drew and loosed in one swift, smooth motion. The head of her arrow glinted with blue fire as it flew, taking the demon in the throat. It fell back, dark ichor burbling from its mouth and pierced neck.

  “Princess, get behind us!” she cried.

  A second creature grabbed at Stefan. He swung his sword, striking awkwardly at its outstretched claws. The blade bounced off a scaled arm, leaving little more than a shallow laceration in its wake.

  Randia’s knife flashed as she reached his side. She stepped close to the demon and stabbed angrily at it. It leaped back in surprise and pain as blood splashed from a deep gash in its chest.

  Guards surged around them from both sides. Their swords thrust desperately at the charging demons as they forced themselves in front of Stefan. Randia grabbed him around the waist with one arm, and his eyes opened even wider as she yanked him from his feet and carried him swiftly away from the fighting.

  Kay stepped in front of them as she set him down behind the front line. Her eyes were lit with anger.

  “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” she yelled.

  Kay drew and loosed again. “Stay behind us!”

  “How many more of those bluesteel arrows do you have?” Randia asked.

  “Only one,” Kay said. She stole a glance over her shoulder at Stefan. “And with respect, Your Highness, I don’t want to have to waste it on —

  She broke off, eyes going wide. “Down!” she cried.

  Randia dropped and turned. A wraith-like demon had floated through the opening in the gazebo that looked north toward the firth. It was gliding toward them, soundlessly, its bony hands outstretched.

  Kay drew and fired again, right over the heads of the startled prince and princess. The arrow passed through the spectral figure with no effect.

  “Randi!” Stefan rapped. “Your knife!”

  Randia nodded in understanding. She slapped the hilt into his outstretched palm as he ducked under a swipe of the spectral claws and rolled to the side. When he came back to his feet, he flipped the blade expertly in his hand and threw. The knife hit the wraith squarely in the chest. It screamed once, its voice a shriek of agony, and then vanished in a cloud of exploding vapor.

  Kay lowered the bluesteel-tipped arrow that she’d been ready to fire. “An enchanted blade?” she asked.

  Stefan nodded as he helped Randia to her feet. “A gift from her grandfather,” he explained. “And we had something of a knife-throwing act for a while.” He winked. “I got quite good at it.”

  Kay spun to face the line of demons again, seeking another target for her arrow. The fight had progressed with grim predictability while they were distracted. Half of the guards lay dead, torn apart by the demons, their blood staining the alabaster walkway. The rest were stumbling backward, desperately trying to parry the monsters’ attacks. One fell as she watched, its head scythed from its shoulders by a demonic blade.

  “This is it,” she said. “They’ll be on us in seconds.”

  She took careful aim, and loosed her bluesteel arrow at Ashrach’s left eye. It seemed to shudder in mid-flight, bending slightly from its path. It struck the demon’s face instead, leaving a long, ugly, gore-gushing gash along its cheek.

  Stefan looked at Randia in alarm. The princess’ eyes had gone wide with surprise.

  “What is it?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know,” she said. Her voice had a preoccupied quality, as though she were listening to something. “A touch of magic. Something … familiar, and yet nothing I’ve ever felt before …”

  Ashrach howled with fury. It raised its hand again and gestured toward Kay. She stared at it as the remaining guards fell in around her, preparing for one, last, desperate stand. She saw her death in the monster’s small, bovine eyes, and smiled defiantly.

  “For the Princess Bard!” she cried.

  A bolt of silver fire stabbed down from above. Guards and demons alike, taken by surprise, were blinded by the brilliant flash.

  Randia blinked, trying to recover her sight. When she finally did, she saw the great bull-demon stumbling unsteadily, struggling to keep its feet. It leaned to one side, the weight of its great sword pulling it dangerously off balance.

  It took her a moment to realize why. The monster’s left arm had been pointed toward them only moments before, about to kill Kay with a burst of demonic power. Now it was gone. All that remained was a smoldering scar cauterized at the shoulder.

  She looked up. A figure sheathed in silver fire was descending toward the glade with impossible speed. It gestured as it fell, and a spray of magic erupted from its hands and streaked toward the demons.

  “Guards! Fall back!” it cried in a thunderous voice.

  The monsters barely had time to realize what was happening. A chorus of panicked shrieks rose from their ranks as they leaped wildly to evade the unexpected attack. Many of the screams were suddenly cut off as the fusillade struck, their targets consumed in bursts of blinding white flame. Randia looked on in wonder as a dozen of the demons simply died, burned to ash where they stood.

  “Starfire,” she breathed.

  There was a rush of wind in the glade as the figure landed, knees bent. His boots struck the ground with a loud report, and the alabaster stone cracked at the force of their impact. His brown cloak flared around him like a cape in a gale.

  When the figure straightened she saw it was a man. His body was sheathed in a living armor of silver fire, and his right hand held a familiar wand. In his left Flamebane shone with a cold, white light.

  “It’s the prince!” Kay cried. “Rally to Prince Gerard!”

  Randia stared, wide-eyed, at her brother’s right hand. It wore a golden ring with a blue stone on the third finger. She could sense its power. It burned with an impossibly intense magic, unlike — and far stronger — than any she’d experienced before.

  Strange as that was in itself, though, she found that she wasn’t only able to feel the ring’s magic. She could hear it as well. It was almost as though it were singing to her in her mind. There were no words, only song and music — like a coloratura voice backed by a full orchestra, ringing through a triumphant crescendo.

  She shook her head, voice choking, vision blurring with tears. The beauty of the song was overwhelming. Her heart reeled with love and relief — at seeing her brother, alive and safe and there to rescue them, arriving in the very nick of time …

  That’s what the song is about, she realized with a start. The triumphant refrain of the beloved hero, arriving to save the day. How am I hearing that?

  Gerard faced the demons. With cries of “To the prince!” the remaining guards rushed toward him. Hope returned to their eyes as they fell in at his side, weapons raised.

  “Disperse, servants of evil,” his voice boomed. Randia had never heard her brother speak with such confidence and authority. For a moment, she thought she was listening to her father. “Flee, and you may live.”

  The point of Ashrach’s great sword pressed into the ground. It leaned on the weapon to steady itself, and then, slowly, regained its balance. It turned its bull head to look at its left side, where its arm had been only seconds before. Then it faced Gerard.

  “The Horde of Borr does not fear death, princeling,” it said. “And it does not flee its prey. You may be powe
rful, but you cannot defeat us all. The Horde will take you.”

  It yanked the point of its sword free from the stone and leveled it at him.

  “We have two royals in our grasp, now,” it said loudly. “Glory awaits, and Gorath will have the soul of any Deman who balks at this fight. Take them!”

  Chapter 17 - A Fight for Their Lives

  Duel to the Death

  Orion struggled unsteadily to his feet. His head ached, and a distracting ringing sounded in his ears. Blood dripped into his eyes from a cut in his forehead, and he drew a sleeve across his brow to try to wipe it away. He tried to shake his head to clear it, but that only made the ache worse.

  The sound of thumping feet and heavy breathing nearby penetrated his tinnitus. More distantly, he thought he could make out the sound of screams and battle.

  We were fighting a demon, he remembered. What’s happened? Where are —

  He heard a young woman’s voice. It was light and mocking, thick with sass and derision. The sound cut through the ringing in Orion’s ears, giving him an anchor to help return to his senses.

  “Hey, monster breath!” Diana taunted. “Over here!”

  He staggered to his feet and looked around. Bodies and gore littered the alley where they had made their stand. He felt a wave of nausea as he realized that their entire group from The Smiling Nymph had been slaughtered. Only he and Diana were still alive.

  He blinked when he saw her, not fully believing what he saw. She was dancing around suggestively and laughing, waving a carving knife in the air over her head. She looked almost as though she were doing a bizarre ritual dance.

  She was goading the demon to attack her. Was she insane?