Rise (War Witch Book 1)

by Cain S. Latrani

  "Shana, get up, dammit!" the young woman roared, the Demon Seed beginning to crowd them. "I can't hold them back much longer!"

  Untar and Leena were there in a flash, weapons clearing those who sought to flank. Esteban swung past them, poleaxe sweeping. He left an arc of blood as the monsters fell to his blade. Hoping, praying they had bought her room, Chara dropped to a knee, grabbing the Ascended.

  "Come on. We need you!" she pleaded.

  "I can't," Shana repeated, body wracked with sobs.

  "Please, Shana, we have to fight!”

  "I can't."

  "Get up!"

  "I can't."

  "Fight back!"

  "I can't."

  "Don't let him die for nothing!"

  "I... I..."

  "You still have another Blessed, right in front of you, who needs you! Now, GET UP!"

  "I... Untar... "

  "SHANA! FIGHT DAMMIT!"

  Slowly, the Ascended rose.

  "WE WON'T FALL HERE! NOT TO THEM!"

  "I... I can..."

  "STAND UP AND FIGHT!"

  Divine energy washed out from her hand as she snarled in righteous fury. "DIE!"

  Chara fell back from her, staggered by the rage the Ascended unleashed. Turning, she saw the flying citadel begin to slow. The steel domes were almost in position. Whatever they were, she could only hope they would be enough.

  Then she saw it. Atop the wall, Ramora battled the Dark Blessed.

  "Ramora," she whispered. "Stay with me. Please."

  Leto fell.

  Ramora couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. Leto was falling. It couldn't be. Not him. Not today.

  Distantly, she could hear Rills screaming as he hurled himself at the Demon Seed. It was miles away, the sound of his valiant squad charging the Doppelgangers. All she could see was Leto tumbling over the edge of the wall. She felt as if her heart was falling with him.

  Why? Why today? Why him? Why all of them? Why Tanna? Rick? Sabra? Bit? Flick? Why did they have to fall today? Why did Draco have to do this, on this day, of all days?

  "Ramora!" Rills shouted. "Get up, dammit!"

  She hadn't even realized she'd fallen to her knees. Slowly, she raised her eyes, her vision blurring as the tears came. The citadel filled the horizon as it slowed. Everything was lost. She could do no more.

  "Please, Ramora!" the Lieutenant pleaded. "Get up! We need you!”

  Rumbling steel domes rose into view, ratcheting into position with painful slowness as she shook her head. She couldn't do it anymore. Life was too much pain. The attachments she'd made, stolen from her one by one, they ripped at her soul, stealing her will to even stand.

  "We can't take him on our own!" Rills screamed. "Get him!"

  Stand up, her Rabbit sang. Calling her by her true name, it demanded she rise, and fight. Woeful though it was, it sang to her.

  Planting her sword, Ramora levered herself up, asking her Avatar if had enough to give her one spell.

  It whispered a tune of promise that it would. Cast the spell, the energy will be there.

  Aching in her body, heart, and soul, Ramora wove the runes for lightness and strength. She felt her little Rabbit tear off its own leg, converting it to mystic energy, as it sang its adoration of her while its chi bled all over her soul.

  Ramora jumped.

  Rills watched her fly across the courtyard, bearing for Renfro. Past the pain he felt, he smiled. The bastard would pay. He believed that. That Demon-loving bastard would pay.

  "Come on!" he shouted to his squad. "A Blessed of Ramor needs us to fight on, to be strong! Are we going to tell the Wolf of War that this is all we have? That we can give no more? Or are we going to stand by His chosen champion? Are we going to make Him howl our names with pride?"

  Grim though they were, battered, worn, and weary, they nodded and tightened their grip on their blood-stained blades. In their eyes, he saw his answer.

  "CHARGE!"

  In the citadel, Sky Commander Maret watched the city of Lansing come into view. The Orc had waited his entire career for this moment, to stand on the verge of history. From his position in the center of the command room, he would be the one who delivered the city into the hands of his masters, the Demon Gods.

  "Status," he barked.

  "Closing to five miles of the castle," the Goblin at the helm replied, adjusting the speed of the citadel carefully with the mystic runes glowing in front of him.

  "Excellent," Maret grinned. "Today is a glorious day. For Lord Draco, we will claim this city, and fly his flag from the top of the castle. Bring us to a halt over the docks, and stand ready to deploy troops in support of Renfro and his Doppelgangers."

  "Uh, sir?" an Orc offered up. "You might want to see this."

  "What is it?" Maret asked, already annoyed.

  The Orc moved the mystic projection in front of the Sky Commander. Renfro, fighting a Blessed of Grannax. Scowling, he wondered why the damn fool hadn't finished them all at once like he was supposed to. There wasn't meant to be any resistance left at this point.

  "What should we do?" the Orc asked.

  "Wait a moment," Maret replied. "Hold course, stand by to come to a full stop."

  "Yes, sir!" his command crew replied sharply.

  Chaos and disorder may be the way of things for ground troops, but aboard a flying citadel, absolute respect for the chain of command was required. Only the most talented and worthy were granted a position aboard the great weapons. It was a place of distinction, a reward for having served the Lords of Hell well.

  As the Commander watched, Renfro dispatched the fool of a Blessed. Smiling, he nodded. That would take care of that.

  "Sir?" the Orc officer said again, his voice laced with worry he would get lashed for bringing more things of concern to the Commander's attention.

  "What now?"

  The image shifted, sowing massive steel domes slowly rising from the castle as the parapets fell. Maret scowled, not sure what they were, but sensing they would not be welcoming.

  "How long till we're in position?" he asked.

  "One minute," the Goblin replied.

  As he watched, another Blessed rose, hurling herself across the gap of the courtyard. A spellcaster, was it? Renfro was on his own against her, then. All the better for Maret, as the glory would be his when the city fell.

  "Coming to a full stop," the Goblin called.

  Around the command deck, other officers acknowledged his full stop. The citadel shuddered slightly as it came to hover over the docks.

  "Lieutenant," Maret said slowly. "Order all cannon ports opened, and all fire crews on station. Prepare to spin the citadel. We're going to bombard the city."

  "Yes, sir!" the Hob-Goblin behind him yelped. He shouted the orders down the pipes lined in front of him.

  "Blessed," Maret groaned. "What pests."

  Ramora descended with her sword over her shoulder, hitting the stone of the battlement walkway, already swinging. Renfro yelped, diving away as her Heavensteel blade bit through stone, carving the battlement apart as she sent the weapon in pursuit of him.

  Stone tumbled as the Dark Blessed called on his Gift, the Netherspear forming in his hand just in time to block the Blessed's next attack. The strength behind it still overwhelmed him, sending him skidding across the top of the wall to slam into the battlement on the far side.

  "Stupid witch," he grunted. "What do you think you can do against me?"

  Ramora glared, hate burning strong in her eyes as she threw herself at him, sword whipping up in front of her. Renfro blocked it easily, too late realizing the attack hadn't been intended to land when her fist came over the clashing blades and shattered his nose. Staggered, he tried to backpedal from her as she flipped her weapon back up, sending him sprawling as it raked along his Netherspear.

  His vision dancing, the Dark Blessed pushed himself back to his knees as she came at him, sword thrusting. Jerking his Demonic weapon up, her blade slid along his, showing him with sparks a
s it tore a gouge in the stone of the battlements, missing him by less than an inch.

  Shaken, he felt fear begin to bloom as he saw nothing but rage in her eyes. Nothing save the burning need to kill him. Letting go with one hand, she shoved the hilt forward, her sword pivoting along his weapon to strike him in the face again.

  Swinging the lower blade up, he tried to slice her in half, only to find her shoving down, blocking his attack, her sword still crossed with his Netherspear, driving the tip of his Demonic weapon into the stone. Stunned, he could do nothing but watch as she snapped her head forward, abusing his already broken nose further.

  Renfro fell to his back, screaming in pain. A Blessed of Ramor. She could see his every attack. He would have to rely on his spells to deal with her. Tugging his weapon across his chest, he caught the tip of her sword and held it back as runic words began to flow over his lips.

  Ramora pushed down, levering herself up as she kicked off, spinning on her sword to drive her foot against his mouth. Renfro felt blood flow as he bit his tongue, the spell lost. Wailing in pain, he rolled, throwing her off him.

  Ramora landed in a crouch, sword swinging back as the Dark Blessed shoved himself up, his battered face now fresh with blood as it seeped from his lips. Pulling herself up, she gripped her sword with both hands.

  "Bitch!" he howled, the word deforming in his mouth. There was no way for him to even cast spells now. The runic words had to be exact. He spat, trying to think of what to do. Ramora only gave him a moment before coming at him, her sword swinging back over her shoulder.

  Snapping his weapon up, he caught her attack, again finding himself thrown. The strength behind her blows was enormous? No way was she a normal human. His eyes widened as he saw the glowing runes on her arm, a weave of two spells, lightness and strength.

  "Sigil magic?" he gasped. "How can you know sigil magic? It's a lost art!"

  Ramora swung at him, not caring what he was saying. She knew what her Rabbit had taught her. Her brave little Bunny, who had sacrificed for her, empowering her spell far beyond its normal limits. Quietly, it sang to her that it would be fine. Ramora heard it, understood, but was enraged anyway.

  It had given of its own self. For her. For Leto. Her little Rabbit had suffered. It was too much. It was far and away too much. Too much pain. Too much hurt. She could take no more.

  She would rain destruction down on those who brought it, without a shred of mercy. She would make them wish they'd never crawled out of their dark holes. She would drive back the darkness with her own blade.

  She would avenge.

  Overwhelmed, Renfro tried to fall back, barely able to hold off the massive sweeps of her Heavensteel blade. Growing desperate, he sought any opening, any chance to at least slow her. Every swing, though, left him struggling to recover, unable to capitalize on the few chances he saw.

  Over the docks, the citadel drew to a halt. Renfro saw it, and gaped. They were supposed to come to the castle. They were supposed to support him! They were supposed to be his backup! What was Maret doing?

  Slowly, Renfro realized the Orc meant to let him die. Terrified of the war witch before him, Renfro tried to stay alive, knowing she was going to kill him. He could see it in those cornflower blue eyes, brimming with divine rage, and righteous fury.

  Bringing his Netherspear up, he tried a final, desperate gambit. As she pulled back to swing, he could knock her sword down, still allowing him to thrust forward. She'd be wide open, unable to stop him.

  As her swing came, he thrust. Suddenly, carried by the lightness of the magic rune on her arm, her sword wove up, over his blade, slamming it down. Spinning fast, Ramora let her weapon drop, gripping it tight again as the blade pointed down, her arm out, coming full circle.

  Renfro's hands tumbled across the walkway between the battlements, his Netherspear fading away.

  Screaming, he jerked back, blood pouring from the stumps at the end of his arms. Ramora regarded him with cool disdain as she lowered her sword.

  He felt her put her foot to his chest.

  How had he lost?

  Ramora shoved him over the edge of the battlements, listening to him scream as he fell. The screams stopped abruptly.

  A moment later, Rills and his squad arrived as the metal domes that had risen where the parapets once stood began to retract, sinking back down into the wall.

  "Ramora?" Rills asked softly, resting a hand on her shoulder.

  She nodded slightly. She was all right. Or rather, she was unharmed. She didn't think she would ever be all right again.

  "Lieutenant?" Rakin called. "What the Hells is that?"

  Ramora and Rills turned to see the massive device revealed as the domes sank away. Three long rails, attached to a wide half cylinder, perched atop a pivot. At the back, a chair with runes glowing on the arms.

  Moving to sit, the warrior considered what was before her for a moment. She knew the runes well enough, and as she touched them, found they turned the device back and forth, as well as elevated the rails up and down.

  Glancing at Rills, she touched a thumb to the fire rune on the arm, sending a massive bolt of red flame down the rails and out into the sky. Ramora went wide-eyed.

  Mystic cannons. Just like Chara's weapons, only on a larger scale.

  Looking at Rills, she leaned out, counting five more of the weapons along the top of the wall. He saw the same, and exchanged a quick nod with her.

  "I think I can see where this is going," he said. "All right, troops, we've got a way to bring that flying monstrosity down! All of you, get to a... thingy... and open fire"

  His squad was moving before he even finished giving the order.

  Slowly, the citadel began to turn as cannons boomed.

  "Yes!" Chara yelped as she saw the Dark Blessed fall, plummeting to a gruesome end on the street below.

  "Archers!" Untar roared a moment before arrows fell, one missing Chara by so little she felt it scrape through her hair.

  Swinging her mystic weapons up, she pelted the Demon Seed atop the wall with fire, killing several, and forcing the rest to fall back. Before she could smile, a Doppelganger hit her, cracking her over the head with the pommel of its weapon.

  Shana spun, destroying it with a bolt of pure Divine energy before reaching down to help the young woman to her feet. Shaking her head, Chara tried to clear her vision as she felt blood run down her face.

  "You okay?" the Ascended asked.

  "I think so," she replied before an arrow hit her in the shoulder. She stared at in surprise for a moment, then cried out as the pain hit her.

  "Chara!" Esteban bellowed, shrugging off the pelting of arrows that showered him.

  "Stand firm!" Untar called, moving quickly to avoid the bolts meant for him.

  "We need to deal with them," Leena shouted, pulling free the throwing daggers she'd taken from the armory.

  "Hold on," Shana encouraged the young woman she shielded her with her body, bolts of white energy flying as the assassin’s daggers did the same.

  A moment later, soldiers loyal to the throne dispatched the remaining archers before darting farther along the wall. The band only had a moment to catch their breath, however, as many of the guards coming towards them from the city were disguised Demon Seed.

  "How do we pick friend from foe?" Leena grimaced.

  Shana eased Chara down for a moment, then threw her arms wide. A sigil appeared over her head and spread out a good ten yards in all directions. Several soldiers close enough to get caught in it had their true faces revealed, while others stared in horror.

  "That'll help," she said. "Gather close! Untar, have your troops start forming a perimeter!"

  "Got it," he nodded, barking orders to the stunned troops who found old friends suddenly revealed as Demon Seed.

  "Beloved," Esteban cried, kneeling next to Chara.

  "I'm fine," she assured him.

  "Hang on," Shana said softly, shoving the arrow on through, making the young woman grimace in pain
. A moment later, she relaxed as the Ascended poured healing energy into the wound.

  "Is she okay?" Esteban mewled.

  "She will be," Shana nodded. "I've only patched it, though, so no exerting yourself, okay?"

  "Sure," Chara grunted as she rose. "Not a problem. Isn't like we're in the middle of a war zone here."

  Heavy booming sounded, drawing them back to the flying citadel as it began turning, raining destruction down on the city. Cannonballs whistled through the air, exploding as they struck, shattering buildings, streets, and people.

  "Come on," Chara groaned. "Can't we catch a single break?"

  Punctuating the booming, a loud thumping started as one of the mystic cannons atop the walls began to fire on the citadel. It was followed soon by two more.

  "How's that?" Shana asked.

  "I'll take it.” Chara nodded.

  With the real guards beginning to organize, the small group found their first chance to breathe, and tend their wounds. Leena, panting, had blood flowing freely down one arm. Untar had taken a number of hits, though it was hard to tell how much blood was his, and how much had come from the Demon Seed. Esteban plucked arrows from his back, his fast healing tending his injuries. Even Shana was bruised and bloodied.

  Chara held her injured arm, the pain reduced to a dull ache, watching as the massive weapons perched atop the walls pummeled the citadel with mystic fire. Around her, explosions crowded the air, smoke rising from all over the city as people screamed.

  By the time they managed to destroy the citadel, half the city would be burning. They couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let that happen.

  "Hey, Shana, you can teleport, right?" she asked.

  The Ascended nodded. "Of course. Why?"

  Chara looked at the castle perched atop the massive flying cone of rock. "Cause, we need to get up there and slow that thing down."

  "What?" Esteban blurted. "Chara, you can't be serious?"

  Lifting one of her mystic handguns, Chara nodded. "I'm damn serious. If we can get into wherever they control that thing from, we can do some serious damage."

  The big Cat shook his head. "You don't even know if there is one!"