“And the earth trembled and shook, and the works of the Adamities fell into its cracks and crevices. And there was a great churning and crackling on the face of the earth, and a wind arose, a wind that scoured and cleansed wherever it passed. And when the wind fell all traces of the Adamities had gone.
“And the Lord called the host of angels to sit by his right hand.
“And when they were standing before the Lord the great ledger was brought forth, in which all their deeds were etched forever in the fabric of time. And each was judged, and each repented of the deeds of life.
“And there came a third horseman, who was called Repentance, and he carried a flaming sword. And his likeness was also as of an angel. And he called from under the ground the old adversary, the great serpent. And the serpent came, in fire and in thunder. And there on the dust under the stars they fought, as ages passed, under the sight of the Lord.
“Great was the battle, and great was the blood spilled. And the serpent sprouted many heads, and each was struck from its body by the force of the sword of Repentance. And where the heads fell there sprung from the earth imps and demons that harried and tore at the flanks of the great horse, even as they were dashed under the black iron of its hooves.
“And the serpent it was who weakened first, and fell to dust in defeat, pierced by the sword of Repentance. And the Lord shackled his old foe, binding him to the ground until such time as the last judgment be called.
“And so that all men would know of it, he placed a tree atop the place where the serpent dwelt, and sent a warrior to guard him, lest he be wakened before his time.”
Rogers came out of it slowly. He realized he was staring into a pair of golden eyes.
“You are the guardian?” Rogers whispered.
The angel nodded.
His eyes rolled up in his sockets and he fell back into his stupor.
“Are you OK Sarge?” Sammy said from behind him.
“I may never be OK again,” Rogers replied. “But I think I’ve got an idea as to why we’re here.”
~-o0O0o-~
He led Sammy outside to join the others and told them of the vision the angel had sent.
“Begging your pardon Sarge,” McLeod said. “But that’s just bollocks. There’s no such thing as angels and demons. And I’m not about to start taking the word of a big sky fairy.”
Rogers kicked at the body that still lay outside the hut.
“Have you had a look at that thing we killed Jock? What does it look like to you?”
He bent and spread out one of the black wings, pointing at where it was joined to huge muscles on the demon’s back.
“Does this look natural to you?”
“Pish and bollocks,” the Scotsman replied, but he wouldn’t look Rogers in the eye.
“So what are you saying?” Chalmers asked. “We’ve been brought here as some kind of warriors for God to stop some demons that want to get Satan out of Hell?”
Rogers managed a laugh.
“Well, if you put it like that…”
McLeod spat on the corpse below them.
“Fucking Black Ops bollocks,” he said. “That’s all this is.”
Sammy Brown looked down, then back at Rogers.
“Jock’s got a point Sarge. At least Black Ops is believable.”
“It’s believable you want is it? How long is it since our crash -- four hours maybe? In case you haven’t noticed, the moon is still in the same spot is was when we first saw it. I don’t think there’ll be a dawn any time soon.”
He turned to McLeod.
“And how does a Black Ops unit make a monster like the one you blew the head off -- one that didn’t bleed? Can Black Ops do that? Can they conjure up a blazing sword out of nowhere?”
“Don’t talk shite Sarge,” McLeod said, but it was more of a plea this time, and yet again he wouldn’t look Rogers in the eye.
Chalmers took his turn in looking down at the corpse.
“I’ve never been one for all that holy-Joe stuff,” he said. “It must be some kind of Black Ops mind games. We’re probably all strapped into a virtual reality machine somewhere.”
Rogers looked over the man’s shoulder and laughed.
“In that case, get your game face on. We’ve got incoming again.”
The now familiar shadows stood on the western ridge of the valley – and Rogers lost count at twelve.
“Get inside,” he shouted. “I hope you found something useful in that inventory Chalmers. We’re going to need it.
They got inside just in time. The demons rose with wings splaying, and as one launched down into the valley.
~-o0O0o-~
They took a window each, one in each quadrant of the room.
“Here they come,” Chalmers shouted. He had the West window, directly facing the slope where the demons had been waiting. He shot off a volley, the noise deafening in the confines of the room.
Rogers found himself reminded of childhood summers on the moorland shooting grouse. But these were no easy pickings. The demons were black targets against a black sky, and they swooped as fast as any bird of prey he had ever seen. He quickly realized that they weren’t going to do much damage until they could get the things on the ground.
“Save your ammo,” Rogers shouted.
Sammy Brown laughed, and Rogers was dismayed to hear a touch of hysteria in it.
“Aye. Wait until you see the whites of their eyes.”
McLeod turned away from the window he’d chosen to defend on the North side.
“So what’s the plan Sarge?”
Rogers laughed.
“Don’t get dead.”
Then there was no more time for talk. Something heavy hit the roof above them, sending dust down onto their heads. Rogers had a quick look around. There did not seem to be any access from the room they were in. And he had no time to worry about what might be up there, for three demons had landed less than ten yards away and were advancing towards him. He sent a volley into the nearest and saw the bullets trace a line across its chest and blow feathers in a flurry from its left wing. It barely slowed.
Head shot. Go for the head.
The red guidance laser targeted the black void just beneath the red eyes and Rodgers sent a volley that blew the head apart in less than a heartbeat. The wings beat, just once, then the headless body fell to the ground.
The sound of automatic weapons rang all around the round, interspersed with the shouts of men lost in a fighting fury. The air smelled burnt and dead.
By the time Rogers swung his weapon to the second demon they were almost within reaching distance of his window. He was surprised when they veered away to his right just as he attempted to target them.
The door. They’re going for the door.
Chalmers had also spotted it. He trained his weapon on the doorway just as the door was pushed open forcibly. Muzzle-flash lit up the room.
“Fire in the hold,” someone shouted, and before Rogers had time to react he was thrown to the ground by the blast from a stun grenade. The light stayed behind his eyelids for long seconds. When his head cleared he saw that the doorway had been reduced to little more than a smoking hole. Two dead demons lay blocking the entrance, and burning feathers floated in the air.
He didn’t have time to celebrate. A figure moved beyond the window he was defending and a blazing sword struck the wall outside. Stone hissed and sizzled, the blade cutting into the wall like an oxy-acetylene torch. He sent a burst of fire out to where he guessed the head might be but the stone was already starting to crumble around the window frame, and the sword strokes became more frenzied as the attacker pressed harder.
Chalmers fired volley after volley through the doorway. He saw Rogers looking at him.
“Virtual reality,” the man said. “ I told you Sarge, this is all just a game. We can’t die here. But we can have some fun.”
He started to move closer to the door.
“Chalmers. Get back here. That’s an o
rder.”
The man looked over his shoulder and smiled.
“See you back in the real world Sarge.”
He marched towards the door.
“Come and get it,” he shouted.
A piece of stone the size of Rogers’ head fell from above the window frame and Rogers was forced to turn back to the defense. Someone… it sounded like McLeod, screamed in pain, but Rogers couldn’t afford to look around. He took a grenade from his belt.
“Fire in the hold,” he shouted, and dropped the cannister out the window. This time he was ready for the blast, but even then the concussion almost sent him down into the darkness of unconsciousness.
His ears rang as if someone in his head was banging on a gong. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard the thwup and flutter as the demons took flight.
Then everything went quiet once more.
~-o0O0o-~
Rogers checked out his window. There was no sign of movement, either in the vicinity of the building, or further out along the ridge. Only then did he feel safe in checking on his squad. McLeod’s face showed a long burn that ran from the side of his left eye all the way to the point of his chin, but he managed a smile and gave a thumbs-up when he saw Rogers looking.
Sammy Brown was getting up off the floor by his window. He looked groggy, but otherwise uninjured.
Chalmers hadn’t been so fortunate. His body lay spread-eagled over the top of the demons in the doorway, his facial features lost beyond recognition – charred and blackened. Rogers hadn’t seen it happen, but he could imagine it – a stroke of a blazing sword would be more than capable of the damage he saw.
He had the others help him clear the doorway.
They left the bodies, demon and man alike, outside where they had found three more of the winged figures lying dead around the building.
“We can’t just leave Chalmers like this,” McLeod said, but Rogers waved hin away.
“Time enough for ceremony and mourning later – if we make it.”
Sammy Brown stood looking at the bodies, then up at the valley rim.
“We need to get out of here Sarge. This is just a killing field. We need to get back to the Hummer – back to reality.”
“And which reality might that be?” a voice said behind them.
The angel stood in the ruin of the doorway, bent over to avoid the lintel, the wings folded behind him and giving the impression of a hunch. Gold eyes shone from a face as smooth as old ivory, the white broken only by the darker area of bruising and dried blood around his wound. He looked almost too frail to be standing, and had to hold onto the doorjamb for support.
He looked Rogers in the eye, and Rogers felt suddenly calm, as if he’d just learned that all was right with the world, and always would be. He had to drag his eyes away. He couldn’t afford to feel that way – not in the middle of a battle.
“Thank you,” the angel said. “You have kept it secure. For now at least.”
McLeod stepped forward and looked up into the angel’s eyes.
“Is this some more shit about guarding the pit to stop the Devil getting out? I’m telling you now, that’s getting right on my tits. You brought us here, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” the angel said. “After I was injured Murmus pressed his attack and I knew I could not repel him without help. And you were in the area, and right minded. I am sorry that it came to this, but I had no choice.”
“In the area -- right minded? What the hell does that mean?” McLeod was getting angry. “Where exactly are we?”
The angel smiled.
“You are here. Where else?”
McLeod raised his weapon.
“I’ve had enough of this crap…”
Rogers stepped forward and put his hand on McLeod’s shoulder.
“Take guard Jock -- you and Sammy both. I’ll see if I can get to the bottom of this.”
The Scotsman glared at the angel, then finally backed off, but not before spitting at the feet of the winged figure.
“You can take your right-mindedness and shove it up your arse,” he said. “I’m here to protect the squad. I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”
Sammy Brown led McLeod away and they disappeared out of sight around the corner of the building.
The angel looked down at Rogers.
“I had no other choice,” he said. “I needed warriors. And you were all that was available.”
Just the act of speaking seemed to weaken him further and he slumped against the doorjamb. Pain etched across his face. Rogers stepped forward and took the angels weight, leading -- half-dragging – him inside. The angel let himself be lowered gently to the floor where he sat, cross-legged. He looked up at Rogers, and once again Rogers felt calm sweep over him.
“This Murmus you mentioned,” Rogers said. “He is leading these attacks against you?”
The angel nodded.
“Ever since your war in the East, the dark ones have been growing in strength and becoming emboldened. They sense the coming of the end of days, and know that they have to release their master before then if they are to have any chance at all.”
“Chance of what?”
“Of toppling the throne of Heaven. That is what this is all about. The evil prince wants the throne and only a band of perfect knights can stand in his way. Do you not read the old stories? It is always thus. As above, so below.”
The angel’s head fell forward and Rogers thought he might have passed out again. He was about to step forward when the head rose.
“Murmus is a Great Duke of Hell. If the old one is freed, Murmus will stand by his right hand, and be master of all he surveys. You think you have seen hell Sergeant Rogers? You have touched but a part of it.”
“And this Duke has a squad of his own?”
The angel smiled grimly.
“He has thirty legions of demons under his command.”
“And that’s a lot?”
This time the smile was one of sadness.
“Somewhere around one hundred and fifty thousand of them. The number varies. I have destroyed many – as have you – but a Duke of Hell is never in want of followers.”
From just outside the window Rogers heard the murmur of voices, one, heavily accented, raised in anger.
“And you brought us here to fight for you?” Rogers asked the angel.
Every word seemed to be a strain for the angel. He looked Rogers in the eye.
“No. I brought you here to fight with me. I recognized you. You, all of you, are warriors. Right-minded warriors.”
“Because of our country, our political allegiances?”
“No,” the angel slapped a hand against his chest. “Because of your heart. Because of who you are as men. I might as easily have found some of your enemies who would have been as equally suited to the task. You were looking for a cause for which to fight. I have given you one. Will you stand with me?”
~-o0O0o-~
A shout from Sammy Brown put an end to the conversation.
“Sarge. You’d better come and see this.”
The angel kept his gaze on Rogers.
“Murmus has come. It is time.”
The angel tried to stand. His legs buckled beneath him and his wings fluttered feebly as they tried, and failed, to unfurl behind him.
“Stay here,” Rogers said, and left the room at a run.
Sammy and McLeod stood just outside the doorway staring, mouths open, at a dark shape that sat some fifty yards away. Huge wings stretched on either side, the tips touching the valley walls. The body of the figure seemed massive and bulky. It seemed to suck in light form all around, obscuring its features. But there was no mistaking its strength.
It was only when a body detached itself and started to walk towards them that Rogers realized that the winged creature had merely been the carriage, a great vulture-like bird that now waited patiently for its master.
The demon that dismounted and walked towards them was half as tall again as any
they had so far seen, and nearly twice as broad. It was little more than a tall, man-shaped area of darkness, but the red eyes that stared at them were the size of plates, and glowed with an inner flame.
Its voice boomed and echoed in the narrow confines of the valley.
“My fight is not with you.”
“Tough shit,” McLeod said, and fired.
Once again he aimed for the head, but this time he did not get the result he wanted. The bullets seemed to vanish into the pool of blackness that was all they could see of the demon’s face.
A booming laugh echoed around them.
“My turn.”
The demon raised a hand and a long sword grew in his grip, a blade nearly ten feet in length. Before any of the men could react the blade blazed with red fire. It came down on McLeod in a stroke that smote him all the way to the ground, cleaving him from left shoulder to right hip. Small flames rose the full length of the wound. McLeod fell, face forward, already dead as his face hit dirt.
Sammy Brown lobbed a grenade into the dark body of the beast.
It swallowed it.
The flaming sword came up and went down. Sammy Brown joined McLeod, face down in the dirt.
The beast raised its hands in the air.
“Come father, you have slept long enough.”
The dead tree at the side of the building started to tremble. The shocks began to radiate out from that central point, tremors building until the valley floor bucked and seethed like a wind-swept sea.
“Stop,” a quiet voice said.
The angel stood just outside the doorway of the building.
~-o0O0o-~
Everything fell quiet.
The demon looked at the angel and laughed.
“Your time is over,” it said. “You can barely stand. You don’t have the strength to defy me.”
The angel walked slowly over and put a hand on Rogers’ shoulder.
“Are you ready to fight the good fight?”
Rogers looked at the demon, then down at the bodies at his feet.
He turned and looked the angel in the eye.
“Ready when you are.”
After the Fall Page 2