Heart of the Maiden: (Lords of the Deep Hells Book 3)

by Paul Yoder

  The men on horseback rushed in with their spears and swords, jabbing and slicing through the torso of the behemoth as it looked for Fin who had made his way around to its side, sword slashing here and there.

  It flailed, batting men off their mounts, smashing down with its club hands to crunch those unfortunate enough to be under its thick arms, sending some of the riders trotting back once more. A few kept on the press, however, and Yozo double-handed a cut at one of its arms as it wound up for a swing, slashing through most of its triceps, the bone cracking under pressure as it swung it once more at an unfortunate horse that lay on its side, smashing the animal’s head in, its arm tearing off the rest of the way as the arisen recoiled it from the swing.

  Men to its side worked its left flank as it struggled to balance itself, spears hooking into the bottom of its jaw as they shoved upwards at the giant’s head, toppling it to the ground.

  Yozo positioned himself overhead, chopping down onto its neck repeatedly, severing its head after the fourth blow, the thing going limp after that.

  The men had no time to celebrate the giant’s downfall as a rack of antlers charged into their blindside, ripping through horses and knocking riders to the ground.

  Yozo scrambled out of its path as the demonstrable hell beast rushed in, letting out a horrendous roar, bloody claws slashing at all in front of it, ripping up horses en masse and battering the armored men aside.

  Its white glowing eyes locked onto Yozo, an unchanging smile along its jagged-teethed mouth. It lurched towards him, hesitating for a moment as two daggers came thudding into the side of its neck and shoulder, sending it ducking, rushing in at Yozo faster as it tried to dodge the projectiles, keeping its eyes on its prey.

  Yozo showed his sword to the beast’s face as it came in, threatening to impale it, the wendigo rearing up as its bloody, long claws slashed out at the man deceptively fast for its size.

  Yozo tumbled to the side, dodging the first set of claws, cutting through the tips of the second scratch, the bloody nubs still snagging on his clothes however, launching him through the air.

  He hit the ground and rolled, shaking his head as someone helped to right him, sitting him up.

  “First time I’ve seen you get bested,” Fin greeted the man, surprised by Yozo’s sloppiness on the battlefield that had almost cost the man his life.

  “It’s been a long night,” was all he had to say back, springing back to his feet as he faced the charging hellspawn, rack down and coming to gore the two.

  Fin drew a fan of daggers, taking one in his throwing hand, Yozo running up to meet the beast head on, cutting into the molting antler, shattering the right side of its horns with a loud crack, splinters of bone flying everywhere as Yozo spun around, slashing deep into its ramming shoulder, slicing open a gash all along its arm, flaying it open in a loose flap of skin as it rushed past the wickedly lethal man.

  Dagger after dagger thudded into its skull, mouth, and neck as it tumbled into Fin, collapsing onto the man in its final charge.

  Yozo rushed over to the downed monster, grabbing it by the antlers that remained intact, pulling its bulk off of Fin which had been crushed under the beast.

  “God damn, that thing was more nimble than it looked,” Fin grunted, helping to push his way out from under its torso, rolling to the side, catching his breath as he allowed Yozo to help him to his feet.

  “You alright?” he asked, Fin limping as he stretched out his leg, wincing slightly.

  He didn’t have time to answer, drawing a dagger from his hip, tossing it over Yozo’s shoulder at an incoming arisen, a new attachment arriving behind the hulks that were quickly being dealt with from Durmont’s troops along with the sarens.

  “I’ll be alright,” he said as the riders rode past them, pressing the new wave of arisen back.

  “We need to get to the top of the ruins. That platform in the center,” Fin said, pointing up the sand hill past the collapsed buildings. “That’s where the real fight is going down, by the rift. I saw them when we were coming in.”

  Yozo nodded, needing no further explanation, helping Fin to walk off his limp as the two weaved around the main fight, making their way into the shadows of the side streets that led up to the hell rift.

  40

  The Rift of the Deep Hells

  Reza’s boot touched down along the hill’s cracked platform as the last afterglow of the setting sun died off, the cool shades of periwinkle washing over the battlefield as a chill gust of wind swept away the heat of the desert day.

  Gale and Jasper jumped up in front flanking her sides while Henarus, Kissa, Eilan, Cavok, and Terra followed behind to face the cowled lord and his minions that stood performing their rites along the platform, each holding blood ivory that acted as a conduction point for the arcs of red lightning that jumped from pillar to bone to pillar, creating an oval web of dark energy.

  Sha’oul chanted, his demonic voice booming across the platform, and as he finished his final line, he looked down, smiling at Reza as he locked his wicked gaze upon the small saren he had once before shared the battlefield with.

  Two arrows whizzed across the large platform, Eilan and Kissa firing without hesitation, shots aimed straight for Sha’oul’s head, but both were stopped by a winding net of transparent tendrils that reached out for the tips before they could strike their intended target.

  Reza bounded forward across the gap and all followed her lead, rushing past the spectral zealots that were kneeling, speaking in dark speech rites to a prayer to the ashen god.

  “Kissa, Eilan, Gale, kill those cultists,” Reza ordered, shouting above the crackle of energy that sparked above them.

  Sha’oul pointed to Reza, and the cloaked figure at his side lifted his cowl, unveiling the face of one they all knew well.

  Nomad unsheathed his sword, charging towards Reza with deadly intent in his blazing red eyes and ashen scarred face.

  Reza raised her sword, though the conviction in her charge had all but died once Nomad had showed his face. Her sword hand weakened as she came to a halt. She knew she could not fight the man she had cared so much for—and so did he as he rushed ferociously at her, ready to take advantage of her weakness.

  Cavok slammed into the charging man just as he was about to connect with Reza, the two flying off to the side of the platform as Nomad scrambled to get back to his feet, looking to the man who had held him captive only a few weeks earlier.

  Cavok’s expression was one of complete stoicism, even as Nomad’s twisted features were that of pure hatred towards the man.

  Nomad’s sword cut in at Cavok in a flash, and bringing up his hand, his tattoos flaring to life, flashing a bright blue, Cavok caught the blade, his skin holding like steel against the razor-sharp edge that slid along his palm as Nomad recoiled.

  His inked designs flared to light as the large man rushed in, slamming Nomad to the ground, barely dodging a stomp that cracked the stone beneath.

  Nomad slashed an arc with his curved sword up at the man standing over him to give him room to recover. Cavok deflected the weak blow with his iron-skin arm, sending the attack wide. Cavok rushed in again, pressing Nomad with a kick to the stomach that sent him sprawling across the platform. He roared as he steadied himself only to see the large man upon him once more.

  Gale slashed through the midsection of a specter, drawing a trail in the ghost’s outline, the wight not seeming to have even noticed the man’s presence.

  He looked to Kissa and Eilan, both having the same problem with their targets.

  Eilan looked to the bone that was being held up by the wights, smacking into it with her saber, but as soon as she made contact with the charged ivory, lightning chained off of it, zapping her, sending her flying several feet off the platform, tumbling down the hill unconscious.

  The chain had triggered all other touchpoints, energy sparking thick through the air, forcing Kissa and Gale to run back away from the violent destruction taking place across the platform
. The reaction vaporized the specters into nothingness as a rift, hundreds of feet high, spanning the whole platform across, began to phase into reality, opening wide the gates of a deep hell, slowly beginning to appear more solid as the lightning continued to thicken.

  Sha’oul lifted his warhammer, seeing that the rite had been completed, ready now to put his full attention to the pathetic band that had hounded him for so long. He looked to Reza, grinning as he looked upon her familiar face.

  Lightning arced, flaring dangerously close to Kissa as she ran, one rope of lightning connecting with Gale’s back, cracking him forcefully forward, tumbling across the platform in front of Sha’oul.

  Slamming his heel in the man’s back, he lifted his iron maul, smacking it down on the electrified man’s head, cracking his helm and skull open easily under the heavy force, spilling his brains out in all directions as Reza and the band watched in a moment of disbelief.

  Metus’ steadfast Praetorian Guard, Galeren of the Nightfall, had been slaughtered quickly and brutally before their eyes, and none took it keener than his Praetorian companion who had served by his side for years.

  Jasper rushed in, silently, a tumult of rage within, slashing furiously at the cruel executioner.

  The warhammer’s shaft came up, blocking the saber’s cuts, Sha’oul dodging back, stepping in with a swing from his warhammer that Jasper attempted to block with his shield.

  The mallet head ripped the shield from the guard’s arm, tossing him to the side, but as Sha’oul went to follow through with his fatal smash on the man, he staggered as a deep chanting voice pierced through the chaos of the moment, Henarus standing to the side of the platform, robes whipping about him as his prayer of confusion muddled Sha’oul, sending him backpedaling, attempting to regain his posture.

  Kissa tossed a throwing knife into the protective web that formed along the side of his head, turning just as she slashed in at him with a short sword, stabbing again and again along the weave of protective aether, attempting to pry the magical substance open with her steel blade.

  He backhanded the haltia, barely clipping her. It was enough to fend off the assault momentarily though, and as Sha’oul tried to stabilize, Reza came in, the point of the longsword she had received from Metus slicing through the hexweave that protected Sha’oul, ripping apart its sinews slightly as a few inches of blade dug into his shoulder.

  He spun his hammer around him, forcing everyone back, knocking Jasper in the side just as he was getting up, slamming him to the platform’s edge, badly broken.

  Sha’oul took a knee, the insidious voice of confusion continuing to wreak havoc upon his balance and reaction time.

  He groped for the dagger on the ground, scooping up Kissa’s knife, and chucked it explosively at the voice.

  It had been a lucky throw, even Sha’oul knew it, and the voice halted as the prophet fell back, clutching his side as the sharp pain of the deeply embedded dagger bit in.

  Sha’oul snatched Kissa’s short sword mid swing with his protected hands as she came in again at him, and as he turned to look down at the puny foe, a terrible sense of dread flooded her as he hefted his warhammer once more.

  Cavok slapped the man’s head so soundly, that loud pops could be heard from Nomad’s torqued spine over the lightning and sound of battle all around them.

  His head snapped back into place as a demonic smile replaced the look of rage he had prior to, as if to show how futile the fight was that the large man engaged in.

  His sword slashed past Cavok’s arms, leaving a clean cut along his thigh, forcing him back as Nomad brandished his sword, grin wide on his face as he saw the flaw in the man’s defense. Cavok’s tattoos flared, and he braced for Nomad’s strike, knowing he needed to disarm the skilled swordsman if he didn’t want to deal with further wounds.

  Nomad raised his sword high overhead, holding the aggressive stance menacingly as he waited for his foe to make the first move.

  The two circled around each other, sparks of lightning carving destructive lines in the stone right between the two, springing both forward on the attack.

  Cavok blocked the overhead chop with his hardened arm, snatching Nomad by the cowl. Nomad tore away from the rags, slashing back in to gouge Cavok along the side, the blade glancing along Cavok’s ribs.

  His blade snapped back towards Cavok’s gut, and he barely slapped it away from his stomach before Nomad redirected his thrust, cutting into the large man’s thigh.

  Cavok lurched back at the wound, and Nomad followed up with demonstrable speed, slamming him in the nose with an elbow, delivering a kick to the stomach straight after, sending the unarmed man to the ground in a thud.

  Just as he raised his sword to execute the man, a burst of energy, rolling towards the two, blasted Nomad in the chest. Light brighter than the sun at noonday scorched a hole through his clothes, revealing a now blackened burn along his torso as he stumbled back.

  He looked up to see Terra holding aloft Bede’s talisman, a white glow mounting once more from the medallion as Terra prayed, eyes closed as electricity bounced all around him from the rift.

  Nomad’s blood-red eyes locked with the glowing girl, and Terra did tremble, her faith wavering slightly in the sight of the wrath of Telenth’s guise.

  The possessed man rushed her, his movements unnatural, his speed unexplainable. He was upon her before she could take a step back, snatching her up in the air by the neck, holding her close to the wall of lightning as he grinned, crushing her throat as he recoiled his arm to toss her into the wall of red angry light behind her.

  A blue-sigiled hand latched onto Nomad’s, Cavok’s grip so strong that Nomad was forced to let go, Terra dropping to the ground gasping for breath raggedly as Cavok’s vice-like grip tightened, snapping high-strung muscles in Nomad’s forearms.

  Nomad reversed his blade grip, jabbing it through Cavok’s thigh, continuing to stab him where he could as he latched onto Nomad’s ankle, bringing the demonic man up in the air. Cavok brought him down, slamming Nomad’s back to his knee, snapping the man’s spine in a gruesome crunch.

  Cavok heaved, completely exhausted. He tossed Nomad’s limp body to the side before moving to Terra to help her up from the ground where she sat recovering from almost having her throat collapsed by the man that was now folded in half.

  Just as Cavok reached out for her hand, a wick of lightning slammed across his chest, jolting the man violently for a moment before sending him flying across the platform, his tattoos flashing with the flow of electricity for a moment before going out, a few more bolts pocking off chunks of stone all around her as she huddled in terror.

  Nomad’s upper half began to move, turning around to untwist himself, snatching up his sword that had fallen to the side.

  Terra looked on in horror as Nomad’s red-blazing eyes met hers once more, smile gone, replaced with the rage of a murderer.

  He grimaced as his spine snapped into place, sinew lashing it together, a boon from the devil, getting him up and running on borrowed time, helping him to find his footing, tentatively at first, but as he stepped forward, Terra knew she needed Elendium now more than ever.

  She began to pray and held up her grandmother’s heirloom, the pendant shining brightly, as if simply waiting for the call. It bloomed into a blinding ball of aura, blasting out a beam of light that gave the demon little time to react.

  Nomad reflexively threw up his sword in front of him to block the beam and sneered at the expected impact…but the sword held the light at bay, the blade absorbing the holy light, brightening itself as the sword began to glow white hot in his hands—the same sword that had been blessed by Bede herself so long ago. It flared to life as if to fulfill an oath that had laid dormant for far too long in his corrupted hands.

  Life, or unlife, drained from him rapidly, causing him to scream out in pain and horror as the white glow cast out the corruption within him.

  He dropped the weapon, the handle sticking to him for as long as it co
uld as though it were magnetized to him, but as it clanged to the ground, he dropped to his knees next to it, shriveled, staring ahead unresponsive as the glowing red left his eyes.

  The voices left him. Telenth receded from his mind, seeing the inevitable decay of what was left of the husk, even the dark force no longer being able to hold the broken thing together.

  Nomad smiled, withered beyond recognition, and though his emaciated husk of a body was quickly failing, for once in what seemed like an eternity, there were no thoughts, no voices, no strings pulling upon his mind except his own.

  Black ooze gushed from his back, spewing all over the stone behind him as he collapsed, using his last motion to weakly place his hand upon his blade.

  It faintly glowed a peaceful white for a moment, flashbacks of Bede weakly fleeting before his eyes, her kindness and love, her last gift to him through his family’s sword—a reminder of the light that had shown the way to his freedom.

  Then, his eyes closed. Free from the red. Free from the hellish dreams.

  A silent blackness.

  The blackness of death.

  41

  Upon the Steps of Heaven and Hell

  Red strands of electricity whipped down along the ground, pulverizing bone and stone into dust as it cracked along the stairway to the rift, causing Lanereth and Malagar to back up against the alcove’s wall next to Wyld who flickered weakly in and out of reality.

  “What is happening?” Malagar shouted over the upheaval of the scene about them, the whole structure shaking under the maelstrom of energy that was expanding into existence before them.

  Lanereth looked on to the light that streamed down through the chaos of the rift’s edges, seeing glimpses of another world’s sky beyond, it fading to night, then to day, then to night again, as if time were speeding up, adjusting to the gap between realms as the rift matured into a more solid portal.