Demons of Divinity

by Luke R. Mitchell

  Apparently I’d been an apostate terrorist a little too long. I was getting rusty.

  A few gestures and spoken commands later, the news wasn’t good. Only eighty-four enforcers and legionnaires in total converging on the great worship hall—some skirting toward the western side where the bridges were more plentiful and less exposed than the Penitent Path, some sweeping around our way to where the hall’s courtyard was accessible by land.

  Eighty-four.

  Where were the rest? Had so many fallen?

  I dropped the display overlay. There were no signals to ping, but I didn’t need them to know there were still at least a couple hundred hybrids ahead. We could hear them now—a low, steady choir of growls and guttural grunts, punctuated here and there by a scream or a roar. First Squad prowled forward, telling the few civilians we spotted to clear out and wait for the reinforcements that were on the way.

  At the last intersection, a lone, slender civilian rounded the corner at a dead sprint, wild panic in his eyes, and crashed straight into Edwards’ hulking form.

  “They’re taking them!” he cried. “They’re taking them all!“

  “You’re okay,” Edwards said. “Try to take a breath.”

  “We thought the worship hall would be safe,” the guy continued as if he hadn’t noticed Edwards at all. “But those things… They kicked down the doors, started grabbing people. I ran.” His frantic eyes widened in realization. “I left them. Alpha help me, I left them all to die.”

  “Well, don’t stop now,” Edwards said, pushing the shocked man on his way. “Keep running. We’ll take care of it.”

  The guy’s gaze flicked confusedly from Edwards to the rest of the squad, then he took off without another word.

  We set off again, trading uneasy looks at the growing sounds of hybrids and wailing captives ahead. Behind me, Dillard was speaking to someone in a steady stream—coordinating by the sound of it. As we drew up to the mouth where the street emptied into the wide open courtyard of the great worship hall, he sent one fireteam inside to take up supporting positions and bade the rest of us take cover and wait for our allies around the courtyard to get in position.

  Angling myself to peer through the windows of two perpendicular walls of the adjacent building, I caught a small sliver view of the courtyard beyond. I saw hybrids. So many of them. And even more civilians, cowering in tight huddles. Parents clutching children to their breasts. Others on their knees, pleading in futility with their reptilian captors. Several of the hybrid’s transports were waiting near the crowd, and—

  “Oh, son of a beardsplitter,” Johnny muttered beside me, confirming he heard what I’d just picked up on.

  The low thrum vibrated oddly in my gut, drawing closer, growing like a deep hum in the chest of a giant.

  “Bastards are bringing in a carrier,” someone growled.

  Curses all around, including my own. I’d been hoping my gut had been mistaken. One carrier could easily fit an entire legion—over five-hundred men and women. Between that and the twenty or so transports the hybrids had ridden in, they were going to have the space to abduct that entire courtyard.

  “We can’t let them load that thing,” I muttered, edging closer to the corner of the building with Johnny.

  Edwards, apparently feeling the same urgency, was leaning to poke out and take a look.

  “Hold,” Dillard said, somehow having appeared right beside us without a sound. “Mara says we’ve got shooters on the worship hall, tucked outside her line of fire.”

  As if in reply, gunshots cracked in the courtyard, and a spray of dirt kicked onto Edwards’ boots.

  “We’ve got companies arriving on our north and south in a minute,” Dillard said. “As soon as they’re in position, we move.”

  “I can cover us,” I told Dillard quietly. “If we push out now, I can block their fire and we might be able to—”

  He cut me off with a sharp look that lasted until the sound of gunshots across the courtyard drew all our attention. It was coming from the directions of the Path and the other side of worship hall, where Second Squad had been approaching from—sporadic at first, then picking up, more insistent. Our allies moving in.

  “On the ready, Hounds,” Dillard said, turning away from me to walk the line. “When we move, stick to the perimeter, make them come to…”

  I stopped listening.

  He wasn’t going to trust my abilities. Not when it might mean his people’s lives. But that carrier was a game-changer. We didn’t have time to slink around out here, trying to pry the hybrids from their neatly corralled prizes before it landed and carted away Alpha knew how many new recruits for the raknoth horde.

  So I gathered my focus, pulled a barrier into place, and stepped into the courtyard before anyone could stop me.

  I caught sight of them just as they opened fire—four tiny pairs of crimson dots already sighted along their rifles, waiting. Slugs slammed into my barrier—a few at first, then several more when I didn’t fall dead. They weren’t particularly skilled shots, but I felt the cost of stopping each one all the same, each slug a jolt of electricity through my chest.

  Catching on that something was amiss, one of the shooters lowered his rifle and bellowed a throaty battle roar. It was quickly taken up through the courtyard, too many pale red eyes turning to fix on me. I wanted to turn and run.

  But the sight of the enormous carrier descending from the west reminded me I couldn’t.

  I turned back to my allies, who were gaping at me in open shock.

  “Let’s go!” I called.

  Johnny took a step forward. Traded a glance with Edwards. Everyone else looked to Dillard. I met the ordo’s gaze, acutely aware of each slug pinging off my invisible barrier. For a second, I thought he might shoot me himself. But then he shifted his weapon to one hand and waved the other forward.

  “Move in, Hounds! Spearhead on Raish. Go!”

  First Squad stowed the incredulous looks and launched into action with grim resolve. Hybrids were charging now. Dozens of them. I prayed to Alpha those other companies were close and pushed forward, trying to keep myself between First Squad and the shooters, shifting the coverage of my barrier as best I could to maximize our protection and minimize the chances I might accidentally block friendly slugs on the way out.

  It half worked, at least.

  First Squad opened fire on my flank, several of them cutting down charging hybrids. And a few, unfortunately, smacking me right in the mind with slugs that caught the edges of my barrier.

  Confused curses from behind. My barrier faltered as I tried to adapt. I’m not sure it mattered much anyway.

  Focused as I’d been, I hadn’t noticed the hybrids on the worship hall had stopped shooting until a rough hand caught my shoulder and Dillard shouted in my ear. “We’ve got friendly fire across the way. Tell me how to shut it down.”

  I looked around, focus fully broken now.

  Hybrids charging. Dying. Closing on us. Humility’s legionnaires were arriving to the courtyard now, those at our backs hurrying to our aid. Those to the right, closer to the hybrids, were engaged in a disorderly tangle, half their people wrestling one another for control of weapons that had gone indiscriminately lethal. Judging by the screams and the spike in gunfire from the direction of the Penitent Path, the situation must’ve been similar there.

  And ahead, our hybrid shooters had disappeared behind the parapets of the worship hall. Taking cover while they orchestrated a telepathic attack?

  The carrier was groaning down behind the worship hall now, its drives whipping the air into a wild frenzy even at this distance.

  We had to stop them. Had to—

  “Raish!” Dillard snapped. “How do we—”

  I yanked my pendant off and shoved it to his chest.

  “Hey, whatever you’re—”

  But I was already running. “Keep them off my back!” I cried, half-expecting him to try to tackle me down. Maybe he did. I wouldn’t have known. I ran for
the worship hall faster than I’d ever run before, Dillard and Johnny crying after me from behind. Hybrids roaring for my blood. Slugs thwanging through the air around me. And through it all, the desperate screams of the civilians, wailing for aid, several making a break for it only to be smacked back down by what hybrids remained guarding them.

  I kept running, pulling energy from the cells in my pockets, preparing myself. Something slammed into my shoulder. It must’ve been a slug from above. I kept running.

  Then I focused my energy and jumped.

  I’d once watched Carlisle nimbly scale a thirty foot wall in a single leap. That memory was the only reason I even believed such a feat possible—and almost certainly the only reason my half-cocked plan worked.

  It just wasn’t nimble.

  I slammed into the stone wall of the worship hall’s first tier hard enough that bones might’ve broken if not for my armor skin. I wasn’t really sure they hadn’t. Especially not as I crashed down to the slate of the steeple I’d been aiming for. But I managed to catch onto a handhold anyway before I slid off to the twenty foot fall below.

  Above, one of my hybrid prey roared from the second parapet, and it was only then that two thoughts occurred to me. First, that I could’ve effectively cut these four apparent telepathic threats off from the rest of the battle if I’d brought my cloaking pendant instead of giving it to Dillard.

  And secondly, that I’d just thrown myself straight at four telepaths without a cloak.

  I had all of a second to relish in my own brash stupidity before four minds crashed into mine. I slumped to the slate, physical senses falling to distant background as I poured everything I had into my mental defenses. The four minds pressed in, crushing down on me until I was sure I’d suffocate.

  “It fights,” hissed a cold, awful voice.

  What the holy scud?

  “Not long,” said another.

  I was speechless. I wanted to scream. All I could do was hold on, and that only barely. They weren’t tremendously strong, but there were four of them, prying at all sides, clawing and ripping. I couldn’t hold on. They were going to pull my walls down and—

  Somewhere far away, the world shook with an explosion.

  “Leave now,” growled a third voice. “Bring manstock. Eat the Raishman next ti—”

  All at once, their minds vanished. I went from crushed to floating free in the space of a blink. I drew back to my physical senses, tightening my defenses behind me, and found Johnny below, shouting up at me. He had my pendant in his hand, and First Squad wasn’t far behind. My pendant. Reaching out, I confirmed it: he’d cut me off from the hybrids, whether he’d meant to or not.

  He’d saved me.

  “You good up there, flyboy?” his voice crackled in my earpiece.

  I tried to wipe sweat from my forehead but only smacked my translucent faceplate. I looked around, panting. “I think so.”

  “Whatever you did worked,” he added. “Second Squad recovered and fragged the carrier’s engines. Half the one-oh-seventh legion is about to drop in.”

  Worked? All I’d done was jumped up there and nearly gotten broken by four hybrids. But now transports were lifting off from the rear of the worship hall, packed to the seams with retreating hybrids. Our forces were focusing fire on the craft. Several wavered. A few went down. Below, the civilians were scattering in a maddened frenzy, running for their lives as their would-be captors fled the scene. And there, in the distance—a whole fleet of transports approaching from the south. Half the companies of the 107th legion, apparently, coming to squash this incursion and restore order.

  “Get your ass down here,” Johnny was saying in my earpiece, “and help us… ah, scud.”

  Looking back to where my telepathic opponents’ perch, I saw the problem. Or at least one of them. The four dark hybrids were vaulting the parapet straight into the transport hovering on the other side. The transport that was clearly packed with hybrids and civilians.

  The last hybrid leapt from the worship hall into the ship and reappeared at the open side hatch a moment later, hauling a man and a woman by the backs of their tunics as if they were children’s playthings. He dangled them over the edge for all to see as the ship began rotating around to the east. Human shields to protect their escape. The crafty bastard.

  I hauled myself to my feet on the pinnacle of my little steeple, my gut plotting a course that my brain balked at. But if I could get close enough…

  “Hey,” Johnny’s voice crackled in my ear. “What are you—”

  I gathered the energy and jumped for the next steeple, twenty feet over. Adjusted my course with telekinesis, thudded to the slate, and jumped again. Johnny was yelling something in my ear, but I was too engrossed in not falling. Not missing. Another jump. Almost there. One more jump. The ship was beginning to pull away.

  Close enough.

  I thudded to the next steeple and threw my senses out, reaching for the transport’s engines. But my approach hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  Ahead, the dark hybrid was watching me with cruel fiery eyes.

  “Human catch,” it called in a raspy, guttural voice.

  Then it hurled one of its human shields from the transport like an oversized smashball.

  I threw my mind out for the screaming man plummeting to the ground. As far as he was, my efficiency was shot, and I felt it—brain buzzing, dark spots in my vision. But the guy touched down safely. Catching the woman that followed left my head spinning. And that’s when I realized that was exactly what the hybrid wanted.

  The transport was pulling away from the worship hall, the dark hybrid reaching back to pluck out his second set of human shields.

  Below, the Legion forces were too busy sweeping up what hybrids remained in the courtyard to do anything, and the few who spotted the transport held their fire at the sight of the dangling civilians.

  I couldn’t let them escape. Couldn’t leave those poor people for hybrid food, or worse.

  So I gathered my energy and leapt from the steeple before I had time to think about it.

  The bolstered jump took me farther than expected. I had several seconds to take in the wide-eyed legionnaires and civilians gaping up at me before the ground came rushing to meet me. I slowed myself just enough to fall into a roll and come up running. Not fast enough.

  Ahead, the transport was easily pulling away.

  A jolt of panic shot through me, burning off the haze of exhaustion.

  “Hal!” Johnny barked in my earpiece.

  I pushed harder, ignoring his voice, sprinting as fast as I could. Faster. Refusing to acknowledge that a man could not outrun a transport. Opening my body to the energy around me. Bending it to my stubborn will. Forcing my body to go faster, to be more.

  Cool electricity crackled through me like I’d never felt before. I ran faster. Faster than I’d ever imagined, the soft ground flying beneath my feet at an alarming rate. I was moving too fast—sure each step would my last—but I clenched my teeth and pushed on.

  It wasn’t enough.

  The transport continued to pull steadily—almost lazily—ahead, cutting low over the buildings at the eastern edge of the courtyard.

  I was losing. Failing. Again. I saw the civilians kicking for life. Saw my mom’s bloody corpse. Carlisle. The White Tower. I screamed, tearing after the retreating transport, and threw everything I had into one last jump.

  Even enraged as I was, it was terrifying.

  The ground fell away far too fast, my vision swirling with darkness in the wake of the channeling fatigue. Swirling right up until some rational corner of my brain astutely raised the question of how the scud I planned to land on the rapidly approaching rooftop.

  Roughly. That was how.

  I don’t know exactly how fast I was moving when I slammed down to the rooftop, but it was too fast for my exhausted body and mind to control. My legs buckled. I did my best to roll, not that I had much choice in the matter.

  When I found my feet again—b
ody oddly burning, stomach threatening to void its contents—the transport was waiting for me fifty or so yards ahead, swiveled around so that its open side faced me. Several sets of red eyes watched me. The one with the darkest hide, their apparent leader, had handed one of his human shields off to another hybrid. He raised his free fist to his chest in mock salute.

  He wanted me to watch. The sick bastard wanted me to see my failure.

  He barked a command, and together, the hybrids pitched their last four hostages out of the transport.

  My hands shot out reflexively, as if they could somehow quicken the projection of my will.

  Too far. No time.

  I tried anyway, casting my will like an enormous net, freely channeling the energy to make it so. I closed my eyes, focusing. I couldn’t watch. My vision was swimming too much anyway.

  The first two hit like a pair of hefty boulders dropping on my back. The next were like speeding slugs punching through soft tissue.

  Something jammed into my knees. The ground. I tried to hold on.

  Were they slowing?

  I couldn’t think—couldn’t even feel them now.

  The world crashed violently down all around me.

  I’d fallen.

  I’d failed.

  19

  Break

  The night was dark and moonless, and windy this high up.

  This high up?

  Alton Parker faced me from the high ground of the slanted duraglass rooftop, his dark hybrid pet at his side, its eyes burning with the same cruel red intelligence as Parker’s.

  We were atop the White Tower, I realized.

  I looked down, and my world lurched. They were all there. My parents. Carlisle. Johnny. Elise. Hundreds more—the Great Hall piled nearly to the brim. A mountain of the dead. Of my dead. My failures.

  Movement ahead. Alton and his new pet lunging for me. My legs were too sluggish, my arms too clumsy. I moved as if I were underwater. They fell on me without mercy, batting me back and forth like a smashball, speaking in casual tones of the rebirth of their people and the hilarity of human weakness. They beat me methodically, until I was senseless—until, finally, Alton Parker grew bored.