Midnight Bounties 4 - Chapter 41

Towers of smoke rose from the Temple District. The ancient grounds of worship were now a stronghold for the north men. Except for Morgefah’s temple and a bit of collateral damage on the others, the Quinta left most of it intact. I couldn’t tell whether it was out of respect for the Gods or simply for practical reasons, but either way the home of Sankta Varathian Gods was lost to the enemy.

            “Fuck the Gods,” I hissed, sliding Traitor through two Quinta, one fell to his knees screaming, the other exploded in a shower of blood.

            “For Orga and Korga!” I heard Targa scream from somewhere down Tallgnome Street. His call was answered with a roar from a dying Green Tide. Dying, but fighting like I had never seen before. The entire orc army seemed to glow with green energy. Their bodies tense with power and bulging muscles. The green bastards were larger and fiercer than anything else on the battlefield and yet…their numbers were melting away just the same.

            The wainwright’s shop to my left suddenly exploded and came crashing down. I didn’t know what hit it. A single wheel rolled through the battlefield, waggling carelessly between an orc who was busy hammering the life out of a young Quinta and Urmon Thornsleeper the Great Claw ravaging a whole terrified company of gold-painted auxiliary spearmen in his bear form.

            I looked up from my latest kill to see Shieldmother bringing her shield down on a Peta fanatic, splattering him across the cobble like an overgrown fly. Our eyes met. Her face was caked in blood and dirt. There was a cold, hard unspoken truth hovering between us: We’re losing. We both knew it. Everyone knew it.

            I saw Blackmouth dashing through Quinta ranks, too. The gnome was lightning fast, slitting throats wherever his shadow blinked into existence. Since the King died, I had never seen him outside the battle. He was constantly bloodying his daggers against the Quinta as if in a mindless rage and didn’t listen to orders, never joined a formation, or retreated when he was supposed to, but I didn’t bother myself with it as long as Quinta died in his presence.

            I was breathing hard, the pain in my chest a constant reminder of the coming threat. My arms hurt from swinging Traitor and Mercy and my mouth was filled with the taste of dust and blood. I didn’t think I could tire after Hell, but fuck was I tired.

            The Temple District was long lost and so were most of the streets between us and the Ashpit. The docks still stood, the Glade was basically untouched and so were the Estates to the east. Funnily enough, the White Palace stood firm and untouched too. The last bastion of Steelheart was of no interest to the Emperor. Only we were. The Quinta focused all their strength on our forces tearing a great wound through the city. 

            We kept fighting and retreating, fighting and retreating until the Ashpit and Gank Street were the only places separating us from the southern wall and Hezzak’s defense line.

            “The fucking barricades are breached. We have to go back,” Tyfus said, the little hair on his head smoking.

            “Where’s the cavalry? Where the hell is Stein?”

            “What the fuck do I know?” Tyfus barked. Just as I asked another warhorn blasted. This one was the sound of the First. Riding both from the east and the west came the mounted warriors of House Willright and Hun. I allowed myself a glimmer of hope seeing the heavy-plated riders charge into the Quinta flanks flinging golden warriors through the air.

            A moment of respite for the infantry lines, just enough for us to retreat without suffering too many losses. Though it didn’t take long for the cavalry to be stuck in a forest of halberd and spear regiments pulling knights off their horses. 

            “Well fuck,” Tyfus said speaking my mind.

            “Frank!” Stein yelled running at me. The old commander was a mess. He was dirty, his hair half burnt away, and his right shoulder guard was missing. “We need to pull back the rest of the forces to the Ashpit. I’ve already established a defensive line there as you commanded.”

            “Good man,” I said. 

Everywhere I looked, golden rivers of fanatic scum came streaming through the streets and alleys killing our people. The Quinta were dying too. Perhaps more than ever. The Emperor had become careless with his people, not that he was sparing them all that much before, but this was a pure bloodbath. The orcs alone must have slain tens of thousands of their men in tight alleys, but they kept coming, climbing over the bodies of their comrades only to eat more axes to their fanatic faces.

“Retreat to the Ashpit!” I roared. “Regroup!”

“Oh, fuck me,” Tyfus said and spat as the armies tried to assemble some sort of defensive retreat. Projectiles still detonated across our positions as magic shields were a thing of the past. Fires burned everywhere.

“We’re actually going to die here, aren’t we?” the gnome mage said and chuckled. I took a deep breath.

“Just say it, Frank. It’s lost, no shame in admitting it.”

“Nothing’s lost yet, gnome.”

“Your optimism is depressing,” Tyfus said then looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not thinking about calling—”

“I am,” I said, watching the battlefield. Tyfus suddenly laughed, shaking his head.

“I say go for it. What do we have to lose?”

“What do we—everything, you idiot. We have everything to lose,” and before he could voice his ill-advised and entirely predictable opinion I said, “But at least there’s a chance. Stein!” I roared and the commander came waddling my way.

“I’ll have to leave for a bit. He blinked hard several times trying to make sense of my words.

“Hold the Ashpit, Commander,” I said, looking over my shoulder at Fey who had bloodied her fingers on the string of her bow. Wort was just next to her keeping anyone trying to get at her away.

“Keep my people alive.”

“What are you going to do? What if the Emperor strikes us? Without you, we have no chance to—”

“Garret! Shieldmother!” I roared across the battlefield.

Almost instantly, Shieldmother came dashing through a small group of Quinta, bashing her shield in the face of one, and cutting another crotch to throat. A shower of blood rained around her as she skidded to a halt before me.

“Orders?” A gust of wind blew between us and Garret appeared through a curtain of grey-black smoke to my other side.

“What?” he said, wiping blood off his face.

“I need you to hold the fort against the Emperor while I’m gone.”

“Gone?” Shieldmother asked.

“Not for long. If we’re lucky, I’ll be back with reinforcements.”

“Where would you find reinforcements—wait,” she said, narrowing her eyes on me.

“No. That is not an option.”

A single flew above us in an arc and landed a few feet behind Garret. He groaned, got up, and looked at his right shoulder. His arm was gone, only a bloody stump remained. The orc roared in anger, pulled out a small handaxe from his belt, and charged back into the battle.

“You will doom us all,” she said and Garret laughed.

“Look at us, noble Shieldmother. What can doom us more than this?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Deathweaver!”

“Do as I order. If the Emperor appears, I need you two to keep him busy. Fight, but don’t die, you hear me?”

“You can’t really order me not to die,” Garret said seriously. “But I’ll try.”

“Shieldmother?”

“You will do as you will, I know this,” she looked over her shoulder at the mayhem in our streets and back at me. “I can’t sanction your actions but I will obey.”

I nodded back at her.

“Maybe you could get Blackmouth on board—”

“You can order me to battle a god, but you can’t make me argue with Blackmouth.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Tyfus, I need—”

“To defend the family, yes, yes. Go already.”

I smiled and jumped on Wolf, then rode away as fast as I could.

I cornered into Jager Alley, a dead-end street where Pilgrims used to sleep, then smashed through a door of a small warehouse. Once I was sure nobody had followed me, I clenched my fist and invoked (Doors of Hell). A rip in reality tore through the air, screaming and burning and I stepped through.

Hell wasn’t the way I left it. It was definitely still Hell with all the burning mountains, crackling lightning, and lakes and rivers of blood, but there seemed to be a certain tranquility in the cinder-rich air. No sounds of distant battle echoed across the vast realm of demonkind.

Before I could even look around properly, Arstemion and Tarnon landed before me with a thump then rose to their full size, the air around them shimmering and crackling. A moment later, Hingur the Hopeless came lumbering his way up the hill as well. The desecrated demon captain offered me a courteous nod that made his blistering cheeks wobble.

Tarnon was smirking the way only a demon who thought he had the upper hand would. He knew why I was there, and so did Arstemion though he faced me with a impartial expression.

“So, you’ve finally come to ask for aid,” Arstemion said.

“I’ve come to offer you the opportunity to pay a debt,” I said seriously. Tarnon laughed looking at his counterpart.

“You must be desperate, God Slayer. I didn’t think it would come to this.”

He didn’t even try to hide the satisfaction in his words.

“Alevia’s bastard,” Arstemion said and hissed. “He’s grown too powerful even for you then.”

“It’s the hundred thousand Quinta at his back that bother me, Arstemion. I can’t take them all on at the same time while our own troops are dwindling. I need you to join the fight. Keep his army occupied so I can end him.”

“I see,” Arstemion said, looking to Tarnon. “You would free demonkind from one war only to plunge it into another.”

“You’ll be reborn.”

“Weaker than before,” Tarnon said seriously. “And for what?”

“You promised,” I said through clenched teeth.

“A demon’s promise,” Arstemion said calmly. “We have great respect for you, God Slayer, but we are demons. Our own wishes come first. Does that surprise you?” I sighed, shaking my head. Worst thing was? It did surprise me. For some stupid reason I thought Arstemion was an honorable creature. He had betrayed his first master, so why did I think he would act differently now?

“What do you offer us?” Tarnon asked, his expression shifting and his smirk growing.

“Offer you?” I barked. “I freed your whole species, you ungrateful piece of shit.”

“And you have our thanks,” he said laughing.

“I’ll have your fucking head, Tarnon.”

“I’ll grow a new one, God Slayer.” I looked at Hingur and the abominable captain looked away as if ashamed. There was nothing I could offer demonkind again. Nothing that I would offer either. There was one thing, however, that I could do.

“I promise you, Tarnon, I’ll take that head too.” Tarnon’s smile disappeared as I continued. “As long as I exist, I’ll portal back here and take both your heads and keep taking them until you’ll look up at Hingur wishing you’d look as handsome as he does.” A smile escaped Hingur, together with a piece of rotten gum that sloshed across the stone.

“Frank—”

“You know I can do it, Arstemion. You know I will do it. If you abandon me now and I lose everything, my only solace will be killing you two over and over again until I bite the dust, too.”

The two demon generals shared a worried look, and after a few long seconds, Arstemion spoke.

“Let me make one thing clear, Frank. If you die in this battle, there won’t be a way for demonkind to return to Hell.”

“You can always take the same path I did,” I said.

“We could…yes,” Arstemion said.

“We could also stay, you see?” Tarnon snickered.

I looked over the black mountains and the valley of blood and fire beneath. This was one hell of a wager I was going for. I couldn’t tell what the generals were trying to get out of me at that moment. Perhaps their reluctance to join the war was all a ruse to butter me up, to make certain I would lead them into the overworld. Why then would they even mention staying there?

Uncertainty seeped into my mind and perhaps that’s what they were going for. Perhaps they just enjoyed fucking with me. Damn demons, you could never be certain with those bastards.

I shook my head. There was no time for all of that. Sankta Varath was in flames. My people were dying, so I had no other choice.

“I need your armies, I need you to fight for me and then return from where you came. Honor your debt, demons.”

Tarnon snorted and looked to Arstemion who spread his black wings wide in a stretching motion. A great demonic shadow fell over me. He walked over to the edge of the cliff and looked down at the hordes of Hell.

“Demonkind!” His voice boomed across the valley. “It is time for war!” Thunder boomed in the distances and a cacophony of different warhorns blared across the valley. The growls and screams and screeches of their legions rose from below and the thunder of thousands of hooves shook the ground where I stood. There was no doubt in my mind that demonkind had been waiting for this.

Arstemion faced me again.

“Open the portal and step through, we will use it as an anchor to open more and move our armies through.”

“You will only fight the Quinta, Arstemion,” I said narrowing my eyes on him and he nodded softly.

“We will pay our debt, God Slayer, and then we’re done with you. For good.”

“Remember,” I said, tapping the hilt of Mercy and looking from Arstemion to Tarnon who chuckled at the remark.

“On my honor,” he said with a devilish smile.