Legacy of the Defender (The Defender Series Book 1)

by Jacob Spadt

  My positioning had me facing away from the main host. A feeling pulled me towards the rupture. Somehow the very fabric of the universe cried as it hemorrhaged its energy out into the world. I locked eyes with the stranger. He grinned at me and nodded again.

  Turning towards the mass of monsters, a primal yell erupted from me that caught the attention of every one of them. It was almost comical to see them looking up with half-filled mouths, like children eating spaghetti and getting caught not exercising good table manners. A pause that seemed to last for seconds ensued as they looked at me. Then slowly teeth began to show, as the baseline growling became a blast of frenzy.

  They charged.

  A single moment of silence fell upon me. I felt like my brain had a seizure. My eyelids fluttered so fast as something hit my mind from deep within like a bolt of divine energy charged up from the ages passed down to me to deal with this moment. The picturesque image of several hundred of these monsters all coming at me like a tidal wave of teeth and claws froze in my mind. At that moment, I happened to see the scar on my forearm come to life. Teeth seemed to tear right through the flesh and a gaping maw formed right on my arm just like before. As my eyes fell to this open wound that did not even hurt, its eyes bore right into mine.

  “Remember!”

  I looked at the horde frozen and various elevations of their leaps. I could see the sharpness of their teeth and the razor like talons on their hands and feet. My eyes glanced back at the maw on my forearm to discover that nothing but the scar was there. It felt like someone drove a spike into my brain. My body doubled over for a split second as it felt like the sky split above me and rained lightning down upon me. My balance faltered for a fraction of a moment as a veil lifted in my mind.

  I leapt at death.

  XXXIV

  Remember

  The wind in my face invoked peace with its cool touch.

  I leapt at my enemy. My mind reached back fondly of how it used to feel to ride my bike. It felt free, with no cares. It also made me feel refreshed and energized in some small way. It carried with it new meaning, scents of what was to come, and could keep you alive in the heat. So in many ways wind was a force for life, not just the power of nature that could destroy your home. It was a form of freedom now that represented so much more.

  Steps quickened on my approach. My first set of targets flew towards me. Dropping lower on the move, my legs tensed, breaking me free of gravity and launching me into the air in a mighty leap. I flew towards a host of daemons that had come through a tear in the fabric of the universe.

  What felt and actually looked like a bolt of lightning had just hit my mind portraying fuzzy images that started to come forward just like one of those creatures on a track in a haunted house. You can hear it coming; you know it is coming but from what direction it is coming is still unclear. Something inside my mind tried to work its way to the front. It was trying to tell me something and after seeing that maw of teeth on my arm again, there was some universal truth waiting to erupt into my frontal lobe. I imagined seeing myself yelling from within a glass prison, but I could not hear myself, no matter how loud or how hard the other me yelled. I simply knew something was there.

  The first few denizens to fall to my blade came in fast with my ascent still increasing. I caught three of them in one swing of the left hand and five with the other hand. Their bodies literally erupted into bits of flesh as the blade passed through. They almost seemed like they disintegrated...if that was even possible. I heard myself laugh at that last thought. What was possible? I was living proof of the impossible. Those visions had prepped me for this day. Where the swords came from and why they felt so familiar were other questions I would ponder.

  My feet found the ground again. The blades bit deep into the flesh of several more of them with terrific precision and speed. I caught phrases coming from them as they tried to coordinate their attack, and it was curious to me that what I heard was not English. I could understand this gutter speech. After all only so many of them could surround me but none of them was brave enough to come at me solo. There was always a wave of at least six to ten or more coming in with teeth and claws. They tried to bite or rend some part of me. In combat, a warrior does not always go right for the kill; you have to whittle your opponent down by letting the damage accumulate over time if you are smart so you do not endanger yourself. They clearly did not get this.

  How did I know this?

  The flip side of that theory is to all-out attack, throwing everything at them in hopes that one major blow will land, and then you can finish them off quickly when they are stunned. This tactic is for when you have multiple opponents that are all trying to kill you. Immobilize or kill each one you touch and move to the next. This is how you engage the different concepts when it comes to war. The Germans used the Blitzkrieg. It was very effective in taking every one of their opponents down that had many hardened facilities at the same time.

  Where are these thoughts coming from? How did I know about combat strategies?

  That option was not my idea to claim. By my count, there were over four hundred of them with more slipping through every second. Every second, several at a time died. The opening was no longer just a tear. It was a rift. Each stroke had to kill more than the number arriving for me to staunch the flow and figure out how to close the rift before it became a portal. As my swords rose and fell, I noticed a small part of them broke away from the host and moved over to the rift. Dozens more fell to my blades before I could afford another glance; what I saw brought confusion after the initial joy had passed.

  For a split second, I was excited. Several dozen of them had begun to kill each other. They willingly exposed a vulnerable part of their anatomy to one another. Half of them took a razor sharp claw and opened that section up, spilling entrails to the ground with a gouting wound that bled them out in seconds. They spilled each other’s blood and left carcasses behind. I did not fully understand their reasoning.

  Daemons going after each other must just be part of the culture. Then I saw that the blood spilling out gave off energy. It moved like mist that flowed very rapidly toward the tear in the very fabric. It began to solidify and grow, and the realization hit me that the slaughtering of the coven had made the opening bigger, allowing more daemons to enter the glade. As I watched in horror, seeing how much it expanded from a half dozen of them dying, the situation became dire.

  How was I putting this together so fast?

  Three crawled through the rift as I glanced over. Each second about seven of them died now. As my blades flashed through body after body of them, the numbers tallied in my head finished. There was about a minute before this would become unmanageable. A flash of light erupted from the ground again and looked just like electricity or lightning with its fingers reaching for the tear. A pressure in the area made the air feel heavy. The rift grew yet again. Natural forces that I knew to be standard physics changed before my eyes. The ground pulsated with a charge that kept leaping up and feeding the ribbon like dance of this enlarged opening.

  Caution rose within; there was no doubt they had to die faster. Four more blows struck through many of them, leaving about thirty in my wake. Those three daemons joined the host while another group broke away and began to slaughter themselves. A curse came from my lips. More of them joined this time and made an accurate count impossible. It was more than a dozen. They just killed themselves or each other. As the dark magic saturated the positive energy in the air around me, my lungs took in this foul air with each breath.

  A crawling sensation cascaded through my body with each tainted breath taken but carried with it a scent that gave me a slight rush and a stronger desire to eliminate them. Hunger-like desire fueled a growing need. My need to rid them from this place turned into a controlled fury. Instincts took over. Energy spread slowly out to the tips of my fingers as if something was holding it back, like water behind a damn or the rubber in a balloon. My insides were stretching to a point that coul
d not contain the rushing effect.

  Then something gave way to a flood. A surge hit me so hard I wanted to yell as it released with perfect harmony. My movement became an explosion and my swords spun so fast they began to hum. To my surprise flames ignited along the blades’ edges. I still had no idea what these swords could do but accepted what had just occurred with a smile. The flames stretched out their warmth up to the tip of the mighty weapons. As they danced almost on their own accord, seemingly unaffected by the wind cutting across them, the flames extended out several feet from the tips killing several more daemons per swipe. Like an arc of energy, traces of light lingered but a moment, detailing the wake of my blade like a brush on a canvas.

  The upper hand was now mine, for numbers mattered not. Elation filled me at seeing the daemons falling beyond my arms reach. The flames stretched out, consuming targets feet away. Dozens died in such a way that the flames burnt them from existence. Even the particles left behind by the disintegrating effect had disrupted and disappeared before they hit the ground, erasing all proof anything had even occupied that space moments before. In seconds passed, a hundred of them were gone with ease. The blades felt lighter.

  Slight over confidence was certainly not the issue when something slammed me from behind hard, knocking me forward. I spun, taking it apart with ease as it was beating its wings trying to create distance. It was almost comical, the look on the things face as it was surprised it was already dead before it melted away.

  Several dozen of them came around to my left as if they used the one just killed as a distraction. I postured to engage this next group when the pain hit me. Something burned through my veins. Multiple cuts on my body overrode the adrenaline. I did not realize what was going on until a knee dropped, causing me to pitch a sword. Spidering up my veins, a black pattern started to show through a slice in the cloth on my thigh.

  Several hits came hard when my guard dropped, filling me with dread. Whatever this was now inside of me was debilitating. My blade dipped toward the dirt. Daemons began to tighten the circle. They knew exactly what was happening and pulled back to allow it to work. A sick feeling rolled through me as the effect expanded through me. Deep breathes came hard. My remaining blade clattered to the ground.

  I wish I could say that was the only problem. Glancing at the portal again, two large hands reached through and grabbed a hold of the incorporeal sides. It took a moment for this to register as my attention snapped back to the circle of laughter now around me. Sweat poured from my brow. I tried to regain my feet but felt dizziness wash over me like when experiencing a newly formed tattoo. The burning all over was familiar, but I attributed that to the damage they had caused me.

  The flyers broke away and banked low, following the ground. I had seconds. Glancing around me revealed the gargantuan hands continuing to claw and tear at the rift. Nausea hit and my hand tried to cover my mouth as if it could stop the inevitable.

  That is when it became apparent.

  The black lines on the back of my hand ran up my arm in a geometric pattern, but with a natural weave to it. Vision blurred. My senses reached out, trying to feel where the flyers would hit me next. The closest blade lay inches away. Retrieving it, my hand readied it the best I could. I did not know what all tattoos meant. What good was it if it could not help me out right now and heal me? Death stalked me. In the process, Eryn would die, falling to this darkness.

  This was not acceptable! Almost right on cue, warmth spread through my body, starting at my core. Pain faded as this sensation flowed steadily to my hands and feet making my fingers pulsate. Nausea began to subside. My sight returned. The blackened veins in my leg returned to normal color as the color retreated to the wound on my thigh. Strength settled in my heart with this turn of events, giving me renewed hope to try to change the tide.

  Something healed me.

  My eyes fell to the rift. Whatever tried to gain access was huge. The giant clawing hand struggled to get a solid grip.

  That is when the flyers hit me hard, bowling me over onto my back. One of them landed on me while the others continued and circled around. Claws dug into my flesh in several places. Rage hit me as a roar came from my depths, and I grabbed the beast by the tongue and thrust my blade into its eye. The flame ignited something in there because his brain boiled and popped, showering me with ichor.

  Rolling to my shoulder blades, I picked up to my feet in a squat and looked for my other blade. It appeared in my hand with perfect timing as the “air cover” had tried to blind side me. Power from the swords now surged from me.

  The flames reignited. Charging the rift to try end this and trap them was my only hope. I was no more than three feet away when sickness washed over me. The large hands had found their grip. A large foot appeared and forced the rift down, opening it farther while the mighty hands pushed up to the height of about ten feet from the four or so diameter it had been. A giant head appeared and trust through, adorned with a crown of sharp, blackened horns. Great big eyes, with blackened pupils, as if small black holes, sat inside the huge yellow orbs. Even its brow above the eyes was twisted and full of boney protrusions that blinked and made a disgusting sound of scraping bone. Its eyes locked on me and went wide. It made a sound as if overexertion was a word and a roar like sound filled my ears.

  I stepped back on instinct.

  Out stepped a monster that was straight up huge. His wingspan was at least twice his height as they unfolded. Great leathery gnarled wings, graying red in color, filled my sight. I could see some sort of material like dirt or dust falling from the folds, lazily coating the ground. As the grass died, it created an acrid smell and blackened the soil. Twisted and overdeveloped muscles flexed when the creature raised its powerful hands and roared while its huge tail whipped about from behind it and knocked me back several yards. It glared at me with intense hatred that turned into a wicked grin.

  Out of thin air, a weapon as big as me appeared in its hand. Great blackened metal with twisted carving and horrific images adorned the blade. Even where one would expect to see highly sharpened edges, a foul blackness existed. Running the length of the blade, a sickly glowing light pulsed down to curved tip, causing a green emanation to ooze from it. This fell to the ground like it had some sort of sludge inside of it. Upon contact with the ground, it spread like vapor for a second before disappearing, leaving a sick green glow on whatever it touched. The monstrous beast rose to its full height well over my own by almost three times. A pressure in my head grew suddenly and felt like it was going to burst.

  Then it did.

  The edges of my mind felt like they blew apart then collapsed in on themselves with a clap of thunder exploding inside my head. I felt pain turn from a furious storm to a placid ocean. Thoughts and images came flooding forward, bringing with them a whole other life that existed to me. Realization struck hard causing me to back pedal. The creature swung the massive sword at me, and even though both blades responded without even thinking about it, it launched me backwards.

  Like a water fall of information filling my mind, it flowed into every corner all at once. Remembrance hit me with clarity and resolution as if I had been looking at a movie that suddenly jumped off of the silver screen and came to life.

  I remembered everything.

  I remember training with Malnuras on another plane of existence…where the city of Heaven was not a myth. My father was alive. He was an Archangel. He was also the General of Heaven’s Army. Hundreds of battles great and small, all exploded into my memory at the same time. The memories flooded over the places of my mind, creating wrinkles in the brain to lock in a moment like a memory board in a computer. Millions of compartments for storing information filled up in an instant.

  My balance almost failed. Thankfully, the space that I gave myself had been smart. Gasping for air, I looked from the ground up to the monstrous daemon in front of me and locked my gaze on his huge eyes. He looked back with a burning hatred.

  This creature in front
of me had been responsible for killing my teacher…and that teacher was actually a shard of God himself. How that was possible did not matter now. I simply knew it happened and that allowed the horde to access Heaven, killing hundreds of thousands of angelic guardians. Recognition must have washed over my face for it pointed to its chest with a huge arm that I could see had permanent scars on it from when it last met my blades.

  “Amduscias,” the daemon prince’s voice gurgled. “You escaped us once. Not twice.”

  I laughed strangely enough for one of my memories of this monstrosity was how much I angered it by denying it something. What it was I could now remember.

  Something that it had obviously replaced.

  A gigantic blade! It was not the exact sword from before. I had tossed that one down the well. My success there angered it beyond measure. That seemed like ages ago when in all reality it, had only been months. Hell had plenty of time to craft another one in one of its hellish foundries. This daemon blade was actually bigger and I did not remember the green flowing ooze or energy this one held. It was a nasty addition to an already horrible weapon.

  He made a fancy gesture as if he was a gentleman swordsman beckoning me to a friendly duel.

  I did not hesitate.

  XXXV

  Sacrifices

  Holy hell he is big!

  A moment of clarity hit me harder than ever. All the possibilities ever imagined came to a sudden epiphany in that very moment when I launched myself at this daemon lord. As a child, I believed daemons only existed in myth. On Sunday when you dressed up and put on your false piety to enter what you thought was God's house, one might hear these stories. This monster was neither myth nor legend; nor was it fake or a dream. It was big, horrific and, most importantly, determined to kill me.