Midnight Bounties 4 - Chapter 42

Targa grabbed a golden soldier by the throat and raised him to eyesight. He smacked his twitching body into the ground, growled pulling his axe back, and then split the Quinta’s skull.

The large angry orc glanced at me as I stepped through the portal and into the Ashpit. The leader of the Loco Bruego was covered in blood and much of it was his own. He grinned then shot the next enemy a terrifying look. The sword wielder took a frightened step back, Targa threw his axe into his chest, charged the man before he fell down, pulled the axe out, and leaped farther into battle where he disappeared between flashing steel, dirt and spraying blood.

Projectiles slid through the night sky leaving long dark lines of thick smoke in their wake and landing behind our barricades with a thunder.

The cacophony of battle had grown heavy and dull. Steel fell on steel, spells still flared through their ranks, but battlecries and orders sounded with a tired, dark delivery.

Thinning defense lines held back the deluge of gold washing through our streets and threatening to overrun the Ashpit. A thick wet tongue licked my face.

“Hey there, boy.”

“I miss you!” Wolf said and at the same moment a shadow formed beside me as the portal vanished.

“Master Frank,” Ragul said panting.

His perfectly ironed shirt was crumpled up and bloody. His eyes two red glowing orbs set in a tired face. The vampire was exhausted and that could by no means be a good sign. How long was I gone?

“You’ve been away for a long time,” he said trying not to sound accusatory, but I got the gist of it. A round of fireballs flew past us and into Quinta ranks, exploding menacingly and shaking the ground. I looked over my shoulder and saw Tailwind’s mages stressing hard to squeeze out what little power they had. I must have been in Hell for hours.

“What’s the situation, Ragul? Where is everyone else? Are Pearl and Rot well?”

The drow cleared his throat and adjusted his bow, then tried to dust off some of the dirt from his shirt. Disappointed he couldn’t do much to better his image, Ragul let out a frustrated growl.

“A wise man once said it is better to never be born but if you really have to live, then at least try to die as soon as you can. It is my own folly that I have not heeded those words,” he said, looking at me as if any of it should somehow help me. Since I didn’t reply, he continued. “Pearl and Rot are in the club with Fey. She’s been taking care of them together with Opius. The others are still alive and fighting with what little strength they have, mind you.”

“Where are my commanders?”

“Stein is wounded, Master Frank.”

“Wounded? When? How much time passed since I went away?”

“Six hours at least. Commander Stein is in one of the first aid tents. He caught a sword to the ribs. Derek has taken over command of the First.”

“Derek,” I muttered, watching Targa fling a man twenty feet back into enemy lines.

“Targa!” I yelled for my orc warchief and he came stomping his way back with a satisfied expression on his dirty face. The orc was enjoying himself, no doubt.

“I’m here!” he said, pulling out an arrow from his bicep and snapping it in half.

“War great, but we lose soon. Death is imminent. But a good death it is. You have thank of all orcs for this.”

“Master Frank is not to thank for the Quinta invasion, orc,” Ragul said.

Targa shrugged and pointed at the barricades casually.

“But he make it longer and more bloody.”

Ragul looked ponderously at the ongoing massacre in front of us and sighed.

“At least I won’t die serving Vinnie Forefrost. It has been somewhat of an honor to work for you, Master Frank.”

“You won’t die yet, old man. Where’s Shieldmother and Garret? Has the Emperor—”

“Get down!” someone screamed in the defense line. A moment later, a massive blinding white beam shot through the ranks, burning Quinta and Sankta Varathian alike. It tore a big hole through the barricades and landed against King Varyn’s statue, destroying what little Tyfus had left of it.

Something flew through the air as the armies regrouped amidst the smoke and ruin then landed a few feet to my side.

Shieldmother skidded across the cobble then rolled to a halt. All eyes were on her as she got up on shaky legs. Her whole body was caked in blood and steaming with smoke. She pulled her shield up with one hand but it dropped to the ground with a clank. She cursed and picked it up with the other hand, flinging her sword away.

Quinta horns blasted through the Ashpit as the Emperor rode through the debris with his retinue around him. Soldiers streamed through the destruction he caused as orcs and the remains of the First tried to hold them off desperately.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, sir,” Ragul began. “I think your question is answered.”

“Warriors of Sankta Varath,” the Emperor’s voice boomed across the battlefield as he rode forward victoriously. “You have fought valiantly, but you and your masters have failed as all before you have. Lay down your weapons!”

There was no promise of mercy if we did as he asked, it was just a cold, hard command.

Thousands of Quinta cheered following his voice. They advanced with a newfound vigor against the last of our men stepping over mounds of dead bodies. The golden army created a large perimeter around our forces. Flags of the five-pointed star flapped across the Ashpit as the last of our forces formed a crescent defense line around what little remained of King Varyn’s statue. The fighting stopped for a short but tense moment as the Quinta Empire faced the remnants of Steelheart’s resistance.

A thick silence washed over the battlefield as we stared each other down. It was a short respite. The first after endless hours of bloody fighting. The First and the orcs tightened their ranks. Man, elf, gnome, dwarf, slater, goblin, sarlak, and orc shoulder to shoulder. Each bloodier and more exhausted than the next. Fusha turned her head and looked at me, she grinned and nodded and so did many others. It was the day of reckoning. A day of death.

Fey walked up to me and our eyes met for a short moment, then both our gazes wandered to the Midnight Bounties. It still stood proudly. My home, and that of my family.

“Is there no answer, Sankta Varath?” the voice of the Emperor boomed again.

“Men of the north!” I shot back and the Varathians turned their heads toward me. “Today you can go home or you can die in this square!”

This proclamation seemed to shock the Quinta as much as my own people.

“You’ve led your people to their demise, Frank Midnight!” the Emperor replied. “Look at your leader, Sankta Varath. He has failed you.”

“Go fuck yourself!” something roared.

Wortimus the gentle giant was holding a golden soldier by the neck in his right hand and the head of another in his left. The orcs around him roared with laughter.

“We will spare no man, woman or child,” the Emperor continued, his voice  now rougher. “We will tear down your homes, burn your families and—”

“Stop talking and do it already, you overblown piece of Quinta shit!” Tyfus yelled.

“Yeah! Come get some, asshole!” another voice yelled. I realized it was the brothel druid whose hand I accidentally cut off. Curious thing how he lived this long.

“I make your soldiers into bloodcake!” Korvan roared surrounded by a small retinue of other ogres shaking their giant clubs.

“So be it, vermin. We will wipe you—”

“I’ll wipe me ass with yer face!” Nord, the gnome blacksmith yelled, hefting a big two-handed hammer that was larger and probably heavier than him. Many of the Sankta Varathians loudly agreed with Nord’s statement.

“You hear this, Emperor?” I yelled, grinning. “You can kill us, destroy our homes, and burn the ground we lived on, but you’ll never conquer Sankta Varath!”

The men and women of our city met my words with cheers and roars of defiance. The defenders of Steelheart began thumping the buts of their weapons against the holy cobble of the Ashpit. Swords smacked against shields in rhythm as our warhorn blared. Buffs flashed across the lines while banners of our houses flapped. The air began to crackle with magical energies with our mage’s arcane invocations.

“I think I love you,” Fey said softly at my side.

“We’re not going to die,” I answered.

“You idiot, that’s not what you’re supposed to say.”

I groaned at that.

“I love you too, but we’re not going to die today.”

Fey smiled and nocked an arrow.

“The First stands! The Green Tide stands! Sankta Varath stands!”

 “I will prove you wrong, Frank Midnight,” the Emperor hissed, pointing a gold-clad hand at us.

The world-ending army advanced, and the ground shook with their movement. Sankta Varath braced for the attack and then, well, then reality screamed.

A single large portal flashed into existence to my right. Then another to my left. The Quinta army’s advance seemed to stop for a moment as the soldiers in the first ranks flinched, but they continued onward shortly after.

More portals came into being all over the battlefield. Behind our line, in front of it, even in the streets going into the Ashpit. The Emperor raised a hand and as if in direct control of every single man and woman in the Quinta army, and everyone stopped.

Smart man.

A single imp waddled his way through the portal next to me and every pair of eyes on the battlefield met him. Nasthran looked up at me, then at the Quinta army and all the death and destruction around us.

“Huh,” he muttered with his hands on his tiny black hips. “I like what you did with the place.”

“I hope you brought company, demon.”

Nasthran grinned then stepped to the side as the portals crackled with hellish energies.

“Did you ever doubt us?”

A soft breeze washed over the battlefield, then it picked up as the air crackled with static. The Quinta army stood frozen in place with their shields up, bracing for whatever was to come. And boy, did something come.

Countless warhorns blared from the other side of reality and demons started streaming out of every portal at once. The Quinta looked to their Emperor, while Sankta Varathians looked to me.

“Now! We! War!” I roared, turning into my demon form.

As wings sprouted from my back, the forces of Hell charged into the Quinta from every side of the battlefield.

Infantry demons with flaming swords, spears and shields, lesser demons with black claws, large, lumbering abominations that crushed imps beneath their fat feet, four-legged monsters with three heads, greater demons, twice the size of Wort, and everything in between came out to play with the Quinta.

Swarms of small rolling heaps of flesh exploded against their front lines, showering the Quinta in burning acid. Men and women screamed. Some started fleeing immediately. Flocks of screeching black-winged creatures came swooping down and picking at the terrified northerners.

“Emperor help us!” they screamed as their formations broke. The big man himself seemed frozen in place, watching the tide of hell slamming into his petrified ranks.

Arstemion walked out the portal to my side, the demon general shimmering with dark powers. The soldiers around me flinched, still standing in place, but they didn’t seem much more confident than the Quinta.

“Sankta Varath!” I roared, reassuring them. “I have brought reinforcements! Now it’s time to send the Quinta home!”

“They’re on our side?” someone yelled.

“Frank fucking Midnight!” Derek laughed out of all people and I grinned. “For Steelheart!” he yelled and stormed forward with the First following after him.

“For Orga and Korga!” Targa yelled. “For Frank Boss!”

The Green Tide gathered itself and rushed after the demons, not wanting to be outdone.

The clash of forces was brutal, bloody, and loud. Sankta Varath shook as thousands locked in one last, horrible battle.

“He seems confused,” Arstemion said, nodding towards the Emperor.

The great, immortal leader of the Quinta barked orders, trying to establish some semblance of discipline into his ranks, but it didn’t look too good for him. The flow of demons seemed endless unlike his confidence in victory.

“Honor your words, demon,” I said coldly. Arstemion nodded then leaped into the battle himself, landing amidst a group of Peta soldiers.

The battle exploded everywhere around us. The night sky seemed to take on a red hue, crackling with purple lightning. The smell of Hell was unmistakable, and the chaos of war took on a whole new level as Hell, Sankta Varath, and the Quinta took to destroying each other. Only Shieldmother stood unmoving, shooting me a hard look.

I grinned.

“Who’s happy nowadays,” I muttered to myself and flapped my wings. “Boy, go get them!”

The deviltail charged forward while I soared into the air. With the battle unfolding all around us, I finally had the chance to take that bastard on without anyone interfering.

“What have you done, you fool!” the voice of the Emperor slammed into my mind. “You will destroy everything!”

“One big last sacrifice,” I said coldly, then narrowed my eyes on the rider of the golden tiger-beast. His retinue was busy this time. Several greater demons were tearing through his Order of Peta, and more were streaming in from the east and west.

I activated my (Demon Skin) and (Morgefah’s Favor). Hot wind gathered around me, sizzling and crackling while purple lightning filled the crimson sky. My shadow befell the Emepror of the Quinta, and only his glowing eyes shone through it.

He said more words. Pleading words, words of diplomacy and words of persuasion. Words that would move kings and kingdoms, words that offered worlds. But I had no taste for any of it.

I speared down, activating (Tears of Light) and (Plains of Darkness) at the same time. The battlefield grew dark as giant tentacles sprouted through the cobble and began slamming into the Quinta leader and anything around him. They broke against a shimmering white shield of light energy that surrounded him. Hundreds of white spears formed behind me as I plummeted towards their God Emperor, firing down at his position and blasting against his shield.

The two spells were dying down quickly, but just before I clashed with him, the combined force of two god-tier spells broke through his magic. One of the tentacles slung him off his mount as several spears exploded against his golden armor. The tiger beast ,

I landed, surrounded by the orbs of (Black Embrace) and rose to my full size. The ground beneath my hooves was on fire. The Emperor sized me up with disgust on his twisting face.

“Is this what you wanted, you fool?” he said, spreading his arms. “You invited Hell’s forces into our world just to defeat me?”

“Yes,” I said and (Rift Walked) right in front of him, slamming my elbow into his nose. Black blood came spurting out his nostrils.

A blade flashed before me, quick, powerful, almost splitting my cheek open had I not pulled back. His hand landed on my chest and a moment later something flung me back with a thunderous explosion. I tore into the cobble with my hooves to steady myself, then dashed forward again, firing the orbs around me, angrier, wilder, feeling blood gathering in my mouth.

Traitor and Mercy met his flaming blade in a dance of light and dark. His movements were precise, fast, and still incredibly powerful. A trained swordsman of unmatched skill who had centuries to perfect his style. I was no such thing. All I had going for me was a newly-gained strength and raw will.

While his blade danced through the air, sliding in and out of positions, parrying with perfection and slashing with grace, mine moved like two furious monsters, always on the attack, always hungry for blood.

When he struck me, the wounds were shallow but many, when I bashed Traitor against his side-guard, it dented the golden armor like paper, flinging him off his feet and to the side. He gathered himself quickly, called on golden globes from the sky, and bombarded me. The explosions littered my demonic form but did little damage. Light magic could not harm me properly, even his light magic.

Only steel could.

All around, his army was crumbling beneath the weight of Hell. There were no more formations, only chaos. Demons and men fought in the streets, on the balconies of houses, on heaps of dead Sankta Varathians. Golden fanatics ran through alleys screaming and pleading, others fought valiantly, dying to a never-ending swarm of claws, fangs, and bat-like wings.

Seeing how I brushed off his arcane powers, he came at me even angrier, with more force and hatred than before. Crackling white lightning came whipping from his body as he threw himself into a whirlwind of blades storming towards me.

I grinned, then did the same, activating (Waltz of Death) and met his attack with my own. The world had turned into violence as we tore through each other, blades struck blades, dark and light magic screamed around us as we bent their powers to our wills. Blood sprayed, golden armor cracked, curses spurted from snarling mouths and when we halted after the abilities ran their course, I fell to a knee, feeling a hundred wounds burning across my body.

“You,” he said, panting some ten steps away from me. “You can’t survive much longer.” I got back up on my feet or hooves if you will, feeling the blood seep out of my tortured body.

“Maybe. But neither will you,” I said seeing the creature that started a war of annihilation, now without most of his armor. Beneath the gold and the jewels and the fancy cloaks there was a man just like me. Well, minus the horns and wings and all.

“You’re bleeding, Emperor,” I said with a wide grin.

He spared no words and dashed at me again with a speed that was somehow even greater than before. I groaned, surprised by the sudden move and its effect.

The long blade in his hand pushed into my side and came out the other end. I grabbed onto the handle, dropping both Traitor and Mercy and met his twisting, sneering face inches away from mine.

Fuck.

“You must die now,” he said through a mouthful of blood.

His sword seemed to burn my insides and I felt pain that I only ever felt once before when that cursed razoreater tore into the same place.

“I must!” I said, straining to push his blade back out from where it came. “Do!” I continued as blood and fire hissed through my teeth. “Shit!”

I kicked him back and tore the sword out of his hands.

He staggered backwards, flinging his arms in the air, and brought his own blade down with both hands wrapped around the grip, and took his arm. Blood spurted from the wound. He twisted to one side, tumbled to the dirt, but still managed to cushion his fall with the one remaining arm. The Emperor’s golden white hair covered his face. Sizzling white lightning crackled all around him, streaking over the cobble, incinerating even stone and popping it.

I lunged at the man, bringing my hoof down on his jaw, then smacked him again with my fist, feeling my own insides scream as I did. He rolled over and coughed a small fountain of blood. He raised his one arm, gathering light magic in it in a desperate attempt to stop me but I brought my hoof down on his forearm and pushed the sword through his palm impaling him against the cobble.

A Quinta soldier ran past us, screaming with several cackling demons in tow. He looked at the Emperor on the ground then at me and finally just stopped with his jaw agape. The demons caught him and tore the man to pieces.

“Frank,” one of them said with a voice that could make grown men shit their pants.

“Demon,” I said nodding.

“This is fun, thank you,” he nodded back and returned to his bloody work. I turned my gaze back to the dying man in the dirt.

“One day,” he barely managed. “God will…God will set it all right.”

I sighed shaking my head. We called his people fanatics, but none was worse than their emperor. The prime fanatic. I noticed something then. The meandering flesh of his face slowed down its grotesque dance and finally set into a solid mass. It was that of an old man, ancient even. With age spots littering every inch of him. Somehow knowing that this old geezer was behind all that death made it even worse. When he was just an abstract amalgamation of flesh it felt like I was fighting a force of nature, but as with all big evils, there was usually just one really stubborn cunt behind it all.

“End it, Frank Midnight! End it now!”

I straightened out and grabbed onto the wound in my side. I still wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to live through it, but seeing as the armies of Hell were washing over my streets, I made a promise to myself to stay alive long enough to see them return from where they came.

“Not today, Emperor.”

“Why?” he said, gasping for air. More blood spurted from his mouth.

“First tell me your real name.”

“What…why?”

“Just say it.”

His eyes, still defiant, suddenly lost their will and he nodded, barely moving his head.

“Before all this…I was known as Paul.”

“Paul?” I said feeling almost insulted.

“Paul…Smith.”

“Get the fuck out of here! Paul Smith? The Emepror’s true name is Paul Smith? Shit,” I said, chuckling and wincing in pain. “Well, it makes sense you abandoned it. Who the fuck would follow a guy named Paul Smith into certain death.”

“End it…” he managed. “You promised.”

“No, I promised something else, remember, Paul?”

“No,” he uttered barely audibly.

“First I want you to see your armies crumble, your fanatics abandon you, and your enemy laugh in your face.”

“But…You—.”

“And then, Paul the Emperor,” I said. “Then I’ll hang in you in the middle of my city.”