by Mark Eller
—and then the hellborn jerked to the side. It twisted around, curled as it was flung away, struck out, but it was already withering, already dying from an arrow. The man the orc had held, the officer she saved, had selflessly thrown himself into the hellborn to save her in return.
He rose from the withered monster. Faced her. Looked at the arrow she pulled from the putrid remains of the orcs leg, and pointed.
“What is that?”
“Druid’s arrow,” Elise answered, watching for new enemies. “There’s hundreds of them spread across the field. Just look for the brownish red shafts, absolutely deadly to all hellborn, though sometimes it takes a while before they die.” She touched the bag at her waist. “Salt imbued by Flinstar’s death. When his body struck the ground its essence exploded in every direction. Most of it went into the ground near Greenswale and was absorbed by this salt. A few grains of it will disable or kill most of the enemy after a time.” She nodded toward the back line. “Problem with the salt is that most of what’s left is over there.
“Druid arrow! Salt!” the man angrily spat. “Mari should have been told of this before the assault.”
“She was told,” Elise replied, turning and stepping toward a knot of combatants. “She didn’t want to listen.”
She suddenly sprinted forward, stabbed out, and a demon shrieked. It turned toward her in a lightning move while blood and dark energies shot from its wound. Elise sprinted to the side, bent to pick up a fallen sword, and turned back, sword raised, just in time to see the officer remove the demon’s head with one expert swing of his blade. He dropped to one knee, stabbed out, and then Elise saved his life by slicing the wing off a wyvern, batting it away before it could rip out his throat.
“Good blade,” she commented. “Magically enhanced, I assume.”
His eyes flashed on her, hard, businesslike. He nodded. “Who are you?”
“Elise, queen of Yernden so long as I live.”
“Mari doesn’t think so.”
“Mari is wrong,” Elise said. “She sits in safety and directs. I fight for my people. I am willing to die for my land.” She pointed. “There, another druid arrow, and there’s another. Get those in your soldier’s hands along with any others you can find.”
A roar sounded from the castle. Fire rolled down its sides, rolled into the battle, destroying hellkind and humans alike.
“What are you going to do about that,” the officer shouted over the battle.
“Nothing I can do,” Elise shouted back. “Not from here.” She gestured at the dead and dying. “This is a side issue. None of it matters. Athos is up there. On the battlements. So long as he lives we have lost.” She bent down, grabbed up two more druid arrows and then snagged a bow. Facing the castle, she strode resolutely forward.
“Where are you going?”
Elise pointed past tens of thousands of struggling bodies. She pointed past the screams, past the burning catapults and soldiers, pointed past a distant fight where Simta struck two fleeing devil’s down. Elise pointed toward the castle. “The battle will be won there.”
“You’re a fool, woman. You will never survive.”
“I’m a fool with a kingdom to save, and I don’t plan on surviving.”
“Well hell!” The officer bent down to grab up a loose druid arrow. “We might as well all be fools. I’ll find us some help along the way.”
Elise smiled grimly and wished she had some memory of what had happened to her after Calto helped her escape. She smiled, and then she frowned, suddenly fearful. Around them, dead soldiers began rising. Lifting their swords, they began killing hellborn.
Other powers, unknown powers, had joined the fray. Elise wondered what those powers would want for the help they gave. Absently, her hand reached up to touch her neck. The cold spot burned.
* * * *
Sulya slashed at the corpses blocking her path. The Hell Mouth stood only a couple hundred feet away, taunting her with its nearness. What fiendish magic was this that animated the dead and brought their wrath back upon the ones who had caused their deaths?
The similian staggered and gasped in pain as an invisible hook pulled her forward. It was the call of her god, an angry and feverish demand.
Come to me servant. Come to the Hell Mouth and destroy my enemies.
Sulya shuddered. The chill of the grave entered into her body. She felt Zorce’s fear and panic. Somehow, in some way, he was losing. An impossible thing!
But apparently not.
She hacked at another dead thing rising before her. Her weapon struck, but it did not fall. There seemed to be no killing something that was already dead.
She howled in rage. This couldn’t be happening. How could they lose? With the forces above and below and her leading the assault in the castle— how?
Sulya charged forward, down the right passage this time. How had she gotten so turned around, so muddled in her directions? Precious time had been wasted, and time was the one thing she did not have; nor did her weakening god.
* * * *
Tessla watched hellborn ignore Jolson’s veil and felt uneasy. Inside her, the faint remnants of Dell’s soul shifted and caressed her reassuringly. She felt his fading love. It suffused her, reassured her, and shamed her. She was a soulless creature escaped from Hell, made into an unfeeling assassin for the virtuous gods. She had no business being loved by this thinning soul when she was incapable of giving it back…only she did feel love, or something close onto it. Dell’s soul had given her foreign emotions that weakened and enriched. It had added to her existence, but she was stealing from him by keeping the last of his essence locked inside herself. He should have been allowed to travel on, to experience the next mystery…only she could not let these final remnants go. She was no longer strong enough.
Athos’s poison sent seeking fingers through her flesh. Dell’s soul instinctively encapsulated them and drew them back, but Dell was not as strong as he had been. His diffusion and constant battle with the poison had lessened his fading will, so the battle had become uneven. Tessla ached to pull out her cirweed pipe. She wanted to suck the deadly smoke into her lungs so it could battle with Athos’s poison, giving Dell’s weary soul a rest, but she could not. The veil hid sight and sound. It did nothing to hide smell.
She shuddered with pain when a tendril of poison escaped Dell’s control. She shuddered and straightened and touched Jolson’s shoulder. “Something is wrong. Too many of them keep glancing this way.”
Nodding, Jolson whispered so the others could not hear. “This veil was never intended to keep us hidden from the more powerful hellborn. They know we are here. Athos waits until we are almost alone. He wants to destroy us with his own hand.”
“Us?”
“You and me,” Jolson explained. “He hates us above all others because we frighten him.”
Tessla was shocked. “But why?”
Jolson’s eyes were flat. “Everyone needs some kind of boogeyman to control their children. For Zorce, it was Tessla, assassin of the gods, and Flinstar, the strongest of the virtuous gods.”
“But everybody knows Trelsar has always been the strongest virtuous god. That’s why he can’t take a direct hand in this. The battle would destroy the earth.”
“Everybody is wrong,” Jolson told her. “Zorce knows. He created the gods. He fought Flinstar when the gods created Hell and trapped the hellborn within. Flinstar came close to winning.”
“So you are almost as strong as Zorce? You can defeat Athos?”
Jolson shook his head. “Flinstar is gone. I am Jolson, or maybe I am Nedross, but I am no longer, or not yet, a god.”
A great cry suddenly rose from the battlements.
“GOOOOO!”
The hellborn, almost still moments before, suddenly burst into motion nearly too fast to see. Within minutes thousands of hellborn rushed from the castle, using any exit they could find. When the rush was over the great room was almost empty. A half dozen hellborn remained behind. Two devils. Four demons. Th
ey looked at Jolson’s veil with knowing eyes.
One of the devils took a step forward. She gestured toward the stairs. “Athos waits for you, spawn. For you and the assassin and the boy.” She smiled, showing multiple rows of serrated shark teeth. “Go. We will entertain these others.”
“We remain together,” Ludwig snapped. He looked to Harlo and Tirelle and Joss. “Don’t we?”
Joss hugged the book he carried tight to his chest. “Jolson told me I need to go with him. You don’t.”
“WHAT!” Harlo spun to face Jolson. “What is he talking about?”
“It had to be this way,” Jolson explained. “Nothing else would work.” He looked at them sadly. “We could never have entered this castle without Athos knowing. I contacted him.” Jolson touched the side of his head. “Here. We made a deal. You three were part of it. He wanted Tirelle and Harlo.” His expression turned sad. “Ludwig had to come along because of Tirelle. I’m sorry. I hope you all survive. Help is nearby.”
“Bastards!” Harlo shouted. “Betrayers!” He jerked his sword free, but it was already too late. Jolson, Tessla, and Joss moved between the suddenly opened rank of hellborn.
“You sons of bitches are going to die for this,” Harlo grated out. “I’ll kill you with my last curse.”
Tessla followed Jolson up three steps that led toward the battlements. Dell’s heart wanted her to remain with the others. Nedross’s voice told her to follow Jolson.
Jolson paused on the stairs, stopped, and turned around. Tessla followed his gaze and saw Ludwig, Harlo, and Tirelle facing impossible odds while the hellborn closed on them. Then she saw Jolson nod towards Joss. Joss dropped the book he held and calmly pulled a tube from inside his pants, then pulled out another. He pointed the tubes at the hellborn, touched something on each, and a pair of sudden explosions blew out one of Tessla’s eardrums. Two devils and two demons howled agony when sprays of salt struck them from the rear. They turned swiftly, fangs protruding, poisons dripping, but their bodies were already folding in upon themselves, smoking and burning. Tirelle made a gesture and the two devils suddenly exploded in a spray of blood and flesh. In unison, Harlo and Ludwig lunged forward, piercing the injured demons. The demons howled and struggled, but the god imbued salt had weakened them too much, and Athos was too engrossed in the battle to grant them a part of his power for healing.
Tossing the tubes away, Joss bent to pick the book back up. Jolson nodded at his abandoned companions. “I hope this evened the odds enough. It was the best we could do.”
Beside Harlo, a dead soldier suddenly stood erect, and then another. Raising their swords, they struck at hellborn.
Tessla followed Jolson up the rest of the stairs, knowing Joss followed. The part of her that was Dell knew regret for leaving the other’s behind. The rest of her, the real her, felt nothing but duty. Behind them, angry roars sounded. She heard yells, clanging swords, and the hum of magic.
Jolson stepped onto the roof and moved to one side of the doorway. Tessla stepped to the other side, taking a quick look around to make sure no hellborn waited to their rear. Joss slipped behind Jolson.
They were almost alone. Only Athos and Belthethsia waited.
It was enough. Athos was a god, and Belthethsia appeared to be more than Tessla had ever suspected. They were doomed. The world was doomed.
Athos grinned. He blinked and a thrum sounded. Tessla felt energies gather. They coalesced around the doorway, forming a magical shield.
Tessla chuckled, though inside she felt tense. Ready. Some small part of her almost knew fear. “Is that supposed to keep us here? I can walk through any barrier.”
Belthethsia glided forward, naked and glorious, any man’s wet dream but for the blood spread across her skin and through her hair. She oozed allure. Tessla felt Dell’s soul stir in response. His excitement passed to her, filled her. Her pulse raced. Her brow became damp and her body suddenly ached to feel Belthethsia press against it. Tessla wanted to draw the succubus to her. She wanted to taste Belthethsia’s perfect lips, to feel her breath, to have those hands run themselves down between his legs, grasp his shaft and…
Shuddering, Tessla mentally pulled herself away. These thoughts were Dell’s. These feelings were his! Not hers!
Groaning, Joss leaned against her for support. Inside, Dell struggled and fought as he sought to leave her for the woman who had killed him. Tessla pulled her knife free, readied her black claws. She had fought Belthethsia before. The battle had been close to a draw, but Tessla had held the edge. However, Dell’s soul, his lust, weakened her for this battle. She could not protect him and herself too.
Belthethsia stopped, still fifteen feet away. She canted her head slightly to one side, scraped a fingernail down between her breasts, across her stomach, and collected drying blood from her body, Slowly bringing the finger to her lips, she cleaned it with a deliberate lick from her tongue. A contemptuous, seductive smile touched the corner of her mouth. Her eyes crinkled with dry humor, but her gaze was pitiless and deadly.
Athos raised an arm. A hook, Jolson’s hook, was attached to its wrist. Athos twisted the hook so he could study it from different angles. He grinned at Jolson, and then sat comfortably on a gargoyle’s head set on top of the battlement wall.
“Why ever did you bring a human with you, cousin? He has as much chance here as a frog in a snake pit.”
Jolson shrugged. “Somebody human had to carry the book.”
Athos shook his head. “Anothosia’s book of knowledge or some such claptrap as that? I’ve had it examined. Not all of her priests have been loyal. The book is nothing but a farce. It holds no spells. It holds no secret knowledge. Its writing is indecipherable because it is not language.” He pointed a finger and wagged it slightly. “It’s hard to believe that after everything we taught you in Hell, you are still stupid enough to fall for a hoax…orrrr…” He paused, almost looking astounded at a sudden thought. “You don’t know, do you Eric. You don’t remember.”
Jolson remained silent, studying Athos like a mouse eying a snake.
“You’re cousins? Joss finally blurted out. “What doesn’t he remember?”
“Distant cousins,” Athos supplied, “and he doesn’t remember that magic does not exist. There is no magic. There is no godhood and we do not manipulate souls. There is only control of my father’s invention.”
Jolson swallowed. “I’ve been told of nano. I have faint memories, but nothing else.”
“Yes,” Athos said. “The virus. The bacterial nano. Father and grandmother released it on the original world. When Earth was abandoned Father brought it here to the place we call Terra Scientia. It fills everything. Our so-called magic is nothing more than using the nano virus filling us to communicate with the nano virus surrounding us. The souls we manipulate are nano fields we tear from the body, encapsulated memories and personalities. A soul might be in there, trapped inside somewhere, but we have no true means to see it. We are not gods. We are only people with the right genetics to control father’s invention.”
“What about me,” Tessla forced herself to ask. “I have no soul.”
“You have no nano,” Athos answered. “Or rather, you have a virus unique to you. Trelsar changed the genetic make-up of your distant ancestors. He has made you immune to our manipulation, but you have the ability to speak to the nano, to influence it somewhat in ways nobody else can. Your line is unique for that. It is also almost extinct. We kind of made sure of it.”
He idly opened a vein at the crook of his elbow with a sharp claw. Blood oozed forth, dark, thick, bubbling. The wound throbbed momentarily, then closed. Athos turned his eyes to Jolson.
“This is the deal, dear cousin. Hell has become too confined. It’s crowded down there. The pocket universe is too small. We breed, but there is no place to expand so we kill each other almost as fast as we breed. Then there are the spawn. All those encapsulated so-called souls we pull down have to go into some kind of vessel or they eventually just fade away
and go wherever creation has decreed. Unfortunately, keeping them means more crowding. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the home you and the other supposed virtuous gods carved out for us, but really, I wasn’t alive then. I had no say in the matter. It’s time to for me to leave. To expand. That means you and Trelsar and Anothosia and the rest have to get out of our way…or you can die…again.” He gestured with the hook. “Only this time your death is forever.” Pausing, he released an aggrieved sigh. “One moment.”
Athos twisted his head to look over the battlements. Power flared between his horns and then shot out with a sudden explosive force that solidified and shattered the air before it. Screams answered him. A spray of blood and body parts rose through the air. Shrugging, Athos turned back. “Sorry, where was I?”
“Leaving Hell,” Tessla supplied. “The other gods have to get out of your way or die. Blah. Blah. Blah. And then you blew off a good bit of your power, weakening you for the inevitable battle. Is there a particular point to all of this or can we just get around to the killing?”
Athos frowned, and Tessla had only a moment to regret her impertinence before a sudden gesture of his hand threw a sheet of energy toward her. She reached inside, spoke to the energy, parted it, made it insubstantial…and failed. Most of it flared off to the sides, but an arrow straight flicker of light tore through her, tore into her body, ripped through skin and flesh, burned through god built armor.
Tessla gasped, fell to one knee, the knuckles of one hand pressed to the roof to keep her from falling. The energy raced through her, seeking something to destroy but it found little more than emptiness. She was not whole, was not complete. She was an empty vessel created by the gods to combat the forces of Hell. Straightening, Tessla stood, denied the pain, denied the destruction of her flesh, for it healed almost as fast as it was damaged. She raised her chin and showed a bitter smile. “I am immune, Hell god.”
“You are,” Belthethsia whispered. She took two steps forward to stand before Tessla. Her hand reached up and grasped Tessla’s chin. Tessla wanted to fight the succubus’s grip, but the pain ripping through her was too much. Sweat poured from her body. Blood dripped from her nose, from her ears, and red tears ran from her eyes.