***
I woke up to a sliver of light leaking through my closed office blinds, and the hubbub of construction and yelling outside. I had been allowed to sleep. For only a few hours. I had dreamed of Ithalen. Again, and again.
I opened my blinds to the sight of a fortress being constructed before my very eyes. On the roof opposite the HQ, barriers were being erected, with Crusaders testing out sniper’s nests and setting up placements for machine guns. The first floor windows were covered in planks. In some cases, also painted with runes of protection against evil. They would keep out some low-level dark magic. But not the ravenous dead.
I closed my blinds and turned to leave. Treth was waiting outside the office, overlooking the balcony. It had been turned into a bastion, with protruding spikes to stop scaling undead, and flamethrowers at every corner to incinerate them. That sent a pang of sadness through my heart.
We could have used Hammond here. And he would have relished the battle. I still couldn’t really believe he was gone. He had survived so much. I had thought him invincible.
“Will it be enough?” I asked, sidling next to my spectral companion.
He rubbed his chin, looking over to the Gravekeeper tavern. Its roof had been turned into a stronghold. A practical bunker. I suspected that every building in the entire block was like this. A fortress made out of homes and offices. Restaurants, now strewn with traps and wards against the undead.
“It will have to be,” Treth answered, finally.
I descended the stairs and joined the hustle and bustle of the Crusader’s first floor.
Jane stood with a clipboard in front of an assortment of plain-clothed men and women, all carrying weapons ranging from sledgehammers to hunting rifles. She scratched her head with the pen. She looked like she hadn’t slept a wink.
“Kat!” she said, with relief, as I approached.
I nodded to her and then to the civilians, who stood at attention.
“It’s not going to be safe here,” I said to them.
“We know,” one of the men answered, raising his chin defiantly.
Jane frowned. “They are volunteering. They are residents who don’t want to evacuate.”
I almost winced.
“Sir…we are facing an enemy far more powerful than just a rogue zombie. I cannot guarantee you’ll live if you stay.”
That didn’t seem to sway the group. At all.
“This is our home, Last Light,” a woman replied. “And we’ll defend it.”
Treth glowed with pride. I was less enthusiastic, but thanked them, before making my way outside to inspect the battlements.
“They are ready to die for what’s right, Kat,” Treth said, as we left.
“I don’t think they understand that,” I whispered back. But it wasn’t my place to stop them from defending their homes.
Outside, some civilians were less than enthusiastic. I saw Crusaders begging residents to leave, but a group of them were refusing, shouting obscenities. They saw me and swore at me too. I turned my back on them. I didn’t want them to die, but I also wouldn’t kick them out of their homes.
I took a mental note that I needed to send Alex to safety. To Cindy’s house. That was far from the battle.
As I thought about Alex, I saw the glow of pixies swarming among the greenery of the streets, zipping past Crusaders assembling barricades and digging trenches alongside a bulldozer. Where they congregated, vines and saplings erupted from the ground, roping around barricades to reinforce them.
I stepped out into the street and Duer rushed towards me.
“Mornin’, Maddy! Have a nice snooze? Some of us have been working.”
“Duer! What are you doing here? It’s not safe!”
Despite his size, I could see Duer roll his eyes.
“We’re pixies, Maddy! Do you think we’re gonna let some rotten’ shamblies munch on our city? Nay!”
Brivvy flew up to join him, grabbing his hand. She was glowing a brilliant gold.
“We’re here for you, Kat,” she said. “As you’ve always been here for us.”
Some of the pixies shouted slurs at Duer and Brivvy, demanding they get back to work. Before I could argue, the pixies left to continue applying their nature magic to the defences.
“The fae presence will be good for when the dark mages come,” Treth said. “It will keep the weyline in our favour.”
I bit my lip. I didn’t want Duer and the kinth being here. I wanted them safe and sound at Cindy’s.
But I knew I couldn’t stop them. As much as I wanted this to be just my fight, it wasn’t. It belonged to all who called this city home.
The rumble of cobbled-together engines filled the air. Crusaders and volunteers rushed out of the road as buggies and cars bedecked with spikes and fetishes screeched to a halt outside the HQ.
A little goblin, wearing ritualistically painted battle armour and a necklace of animal bones, jumped out of the front vehicle. He was joined by more goblins and ranks of orcs, carrying homemade rifles, rocket launchers and axes. But there was also more professional equipment among them. Armour, military-grade rifles. The Fae Flu vaccine had made a lot of money for the orc community.
“Girin!” I exclaimed. The goblin shaman smiled, showing his pointed teeth.
“The Bones favour your battle, Vlamven. And they have called us to war.”
He yelled something in orcish, and his comrades responded by raising their hands and shouting their assent.
“We fight for you. We fight for the survival of our kind. To keep the darkness away from our homes. We fight for Hope City!”
I was lost for words. There were dozens of orcs. And they were already taking the initiative to help set up the battlefield. An orc could lift triple the amount a human could. It made erecting barriers and digging traps far quicker.
Before I could thank Girin and the orcs, I spotted a mountain of a man across the way, talking to Trudie outside their church-turned-compound. A blonde man with a beard, and golden glowing eyes.
Gareth Blanche! And now I saw them peppering the streets, helping where they could. Men and women, lifting cinderblocks and steel beams. Gareth’s pack!
I made my way over to him. He stopped his conversation and looked my way as I approached. He must have heard or smelled me coming from across the street.
“I promised to give you aid,” he said, unsmiling in his usual fashion. Darren, his beta, did smile and nodded towards me.
“Thank you, Gareth. We need all the help we can get.”
He nodded, and then continued speaking to Trudie. Both their eyes were on fire with golden fury. It took a lot to get werewolf packs to cooperate. It was their nature not to. Pack hierarchies were about discipline. Firmly established chains of command. But, other alphas muddied the waters. Made it harder to keep control. No wonder Darren had to stay by Gareth’s side. To keep him calm. That was a beta’s job, after all.
Despite all that, Gareth and Trudie were working together.
I looked at them, and all the werewolves, orcs, humans and pixies and my chest swelled with pride. It still wasn’t enough. We were still vastly outnumbered. But it was better than we were before.
“Kat…” a voice came hesitantly. I turned and saw my aunt. Shock resonated through my chest.
“Mandy! Please, you can’t be here. You aren’t a fighter!”
She smiled weakly and approached.
“I know, Kat. And I won’t be here to distract you. I know my place is among books and behind a desk. Not with a sword. Not like you…”
Was that shame in her voice? No, pride. For me.
“I just…I came to see you.”
To say goodbye.
I felt tears well up in my eyes. I didn’t try to fight them down. Mandy opened her arms, and I let them engulf me.
“It will be okay, my girl,” she said and, just for a second, I imagined that she was my mom. And that everything was okay. I held onto her, and her me. And, as we did so, she no longer
needed to be my mom.
She was Mandy, and that’s all she ever needed to be.
“I love you, Kat. Don’t ever forget that.”
“I love you too.”
Finally, I let go, rubbing my eyes with my flaming sleeve.
“You will win?” she asked.
I smiled, weakly. “I always do.”
My aunt left, before any of us could cry again. I saw the Davisons crying with their daughter, as Gareth stood patiently nearby. Trudie’s dad was shaking Pranish’s hand, repeatedly, as tears streamed down his face.
“I will protect her,” I heard Pranish say. And from the intensity of his gaze, I suddenly felt sorry for the Necro Lord.
I steeled myself as the Davisons turned to me. I could cry with Charne. But I had to be strong. The sun was moving in the sky. And there was still a lot of work to do…
***
The sun began its slow descent behind Adamastor’s tomb. Night descended on Hope City. The work was done. As well as it could be done. Crusaders manned the battlements, machine guns at every corner. The buildings we couldn’t man with our dwindled numbers (even with the orc and werewolf reinforcements) were set with traps. We had barricaded the apartments nearby. Volunteers guarded their homes.
I watched from the front door of the HQ. Before me, Crusaders and orcs stood shoulder to shoulder in trenches, behind rows of barbed wire and spikes. Kyong warmed up beside me. Stretching and doing jumping jacks. He was pulsating with energy.
It was quiet. No chatting. Just the faint breathing of the men and women under my command. Even the pixies had gone quiet, their glows faint.
The waiting was agonising. Slow. So slow that I wished the fight had already begun. That we could get this over with…
Until I heard engines. Approaching. Dozens. No…more. And coming to the HQ. Down every road.
I wished the wait had been longer. How many trucks and vans were that? And how many undead in each van? Could we handle them all? We had lost so many men at the flesh factory. And, while the werewolves and orcs were strong, they weren’t undead hunters. And the volunteers were basically just fodder…
A van came into view. At the symbol emblazoned on its front, fidgety Crusaders lowered their rifles. It was a wave of splendid blue. Puretide.
Something lit once again in my chest. My coat flared in excitement.
More vans joined, bearing the Puretide logo. And they were joined by police sirens, armoured cars, buses and more.
The vehicles parked wherever they could, blocking vulnerable areas and forming laagers around our positions. From them poured men and women wearing Puretide white, Drakenbane black, police blue and the khaki camo of the CDF. There were even Whiteshield agents, purifiers of Heiligeslicht, freelancers with varied equipment. There were hundreds of them. And they were all lining up to face us.
Edward thrust himself past the rows of cops, soldiers, hunters, purifiers and volunteers. He stopped at the front, facing me with his incurably sour expression.
“Last Light!” he yelled. “This is our city too.”
A small cheer leapt up from behind him, but most of the assembled army stood still. Silent.
Edward smiled, soberly. The smile of a man who realised he was approaching the work he had prepared for his entire life.
“And I have a score to settle with the Necro Lord.”
Edward stepped back, locking his feet to attention. The air was filled with the sound of the entire army standing at attention, as they all reached into their pockets.
Edward grasped his Puretide badge, and tore it off, dropping it to the ground. His men did the same. Every cop, soldier, Drakenbane and Whiteshield agent – all of them – ripped off their badges and replaced them with another.
The Blade and Shield of the Crusaders.
“Now I know why those were selling so well!” Conrad exclaimed. He wasn’t wearing his usual suit. It was a leather coat and shotgun for him now. The slayer, Conrad, of legend.
I couldn’t respond. Not to Conrad, not to Edward, nor the army before me. The ranks spread out and started rushing to fill the gaps in our defences. Until every rooftop was covered with…Crusaders. Of every background, of every creed and profession. All of them, standing and waiting to face the darkness.
Tonight, we were all Crusaders. And we all smelled the rot on the horizon.
Chapter 25.
War
“Fire ineffective!” a soldier yelled, panic in his voice, over the CDF radio. The commander of the CDF and HCPD troops stood by my side, behind the trenches, barbed wire and fortifications around the HQ. We didn’t speak much. It wasn’t the time for idle chatting.
And we both knew already all that could be said.
He had chosen the Crusaders over the Council orders. He risked his own job and the jobs of all his men. But that didn’t matter. He knew what was at stake.
Riaan did not. And, against my pleas, he had sent the CDF and the cops to try blocking the oncoming horde. For the last hour, we had heard their screams over the radio.
“Requesting rei…” the man on the radio was cut-off. Reinforcements wouldn’t have helped. You can’t stop an army of the dead. The best you could do was dig-in. And wait…
“We can’t stop them!” a new voice yelled. “They’re almost to Obs! Titan save us!”
I smelled rot. Rot and ash. The sun had set. Completely. Spotlights and streetlights lit the block. And fire. Pit-traps and trenches filled with flaming tires had been set up to slow the advance.
Over the rooftops, I saw an orange glow. Towards the highway.
So many more people had died. And that was just the beginning…
Gunshots echoed over the radio, and then the roar of undead. Then…silence.
Silence.
And then a screeching thunder that made even the strongest soldier among us shudder. And, in its wake, a unified chorus of guttural screeching and growls. The army of the dead.
It was here and, with them, a dark cloud began to form over our heads. Unnatural clouds, bringing the putrid stench of undeath and dark weylines.
I heard the singsong chanting of pixies in the distance, as they began to counteract the corruption in the air. But, how could such tiny creatures face against an enemy such as this?
With help, I realised. No one balked. And even as I saw tears streaming down faces, I saw determination. This was Hope City after all. We had to believe we could save it. That there was hope left…
I held out my hand and let Treth drop Ithalen into it. The CDF commander jumped as he saw the sword manifest into my hand.
I held it aloft. My voice, carried by megaphones and radio, boomed across my domain.
“Crusaders!” I cried. “Hold the line!”
A cacophony of clicks erupted as safeties were disengaged. The melee divisions drew their weapons. Enchanted spears, axes, swords. It was a practical medieval army, backed by machine guns.
“South-west-side, contact!” the call came out over the comms. I heard the melody of gunfire, the sizzling of fireballs and the machine-like buzzing of the CAHSL, spraying grapeshot down the street. By Athena, I was glad to have CDF here!
“They’re pouring through the apartment blocks in the south-east!” another call came.
I winced. There were people in there. A lot of the die-hards who refused to leave. We had assigned a lot of troops there, alongside volunteers, but they would be overwhelmed. It was beyond the main defences. Too much ground to cover. Not enough men or material. Not enough time.
More calls buzzed over the radio. The horde had flooded through the suburbs and rounded our defences, attacking the north-side. They’d be tearing past my apartment. At least, Alex was far away, with the portion of the kinth who had been asked to stay by the Tree o’ Many Gifts.
I heard explosions. Conventional and magical. Some were the orange, fiery variety of fireballs, sending out flashes through the night. But others were the acidic, sizzling darkness of corruption magic.
“
They’re breaking through the west-side!” a voice yelled. Not from the radio. It was someone on the floor above me. Already, riflemen on the balcony were firing in all directions. The sound of war was all around us. We couldn’t even say our backs were against the wall. We were surrounded!
I listened to the cacophony of voices coming from the comms. The north was keeping up. It was a long stretch of road, with a lot of traps. The south-side was falling fast, but the CDF had assigned their CAHSL to it, so we couldn’t do any close-quarters lest we get shredded by our own guns.
Screams erupted over the comms and permeated the air. It should have been cold, but the rot and fire in the air made it feel like a swamp.
Enough waiting!
“Commander,” I said, addressing the CDF leader. He was a middle-aged man. Had an assegai shaped scar on his left cheek. Hair was greying.
“Keep this HQ secure. The wounded have to be kept safe.”
“Yes, Last Light,” he replied, before looking back down at his map of the city-block and yelling orders into his radio.
I donned the Aegis, thankful for its weight on my arm, and cleared the trench. Crusaders and hunters, bearing close-combat weapons, scaled the trench and followed me.
“Katty!” I heard a voice cry from above.
I looked up. It was Brett. Even from this distance, I saw the concern in his eyes. But I also saw acceptance. His place was up there. He was a gunner. I was a swordswoman. He needed to man the rooftops. And keep our field hospital safe.
“I love you, Drummond!” he shouted.
“I know!” I yelled back.
We shared a smile, just before I turned to the west and marched towards the Gravekeeper, an army at my back.
I didn’t know how long our defences would hold. With vampires in the Necro Lord’s army, we needed to hold them off until sunrise. That would make things easier. But, the sun had just set…
I looked up towards the rooftops. Gunmen crouched and lay on every rooftop, firing into the horde as they tore towards us. I heard massive thuds and bangs as trucks collided with our walls and barricades. Down the street, a black truck cleared a make-shift wall, tipping and collapsing on its side. Abhorrent poured out, cutting down gunners who hadn’t fled in time.
Cursed Earth (Kat Drummond Book 12) Page 21