David Dalglish: Blood Of Gods

The skies burned red as men fell bleeding from above, and Ashhur watched it all with a shard of fear in his heart. His city of Allaketh was protected by a massive circular wall, the homes within dwarfed by a mountain of marble. Yet that mattered not when Thulos’s soldiers flew on crimson wings, their bronze armor glistening in the twilight of a fading sun as the light of a thousand fires consuming his beloved city.

“Trust our archers,” Karak said beside him, the two overlooking the battle from the steps of the Golden Castle. Ashhur glanced to his brother, bedecked in fine dark steel plate and resting an enormous ethereal sword across his broad shoulders. He looked confident, but Ashhur knew it for the lie it was. They could hold no confidence in their creations, for they were weak compared to Thulos. The humans had trusted in Justice and Order to prevail, for their allies in Love and Creation to hold back the tide, but against the God of War, they were all inferior. Humankind sought power, and the easiest way to achieve it was through their vengeful brother.

Giant balls of flaming pitch soared over the walls, accompanied by another wave of winged soldiers. The pitch smashed atop homes, setting them ablaze as Allaketh’s archers fired in vain from along the walls, downing foes with their deadly aim, yet unable to stem the tide. Ashhur drew his own sword as battle began atop those ramparts, their men quickly falling.

“We have no choice,” Ashhur said. “The gates will soon fall, and the footmen of Thulos will make their charge. We must meet them head on.”

Karak pulled the sword from his back and ran his other hand through his dark brown hair, for not a single strand would he allow to remain out of place.

“So be it,” he said. “If our followers cannot find victory, let us give it to them.”

The red haze blackened as the fire spread throughout the city. The two brother gods walked side by side down the road, leaving the castle behind them, listening to the screams of the dying. Every whisper, every groan was perfectly clear to their ears. For Ashhur, it was nearly overwhelming. There was no justice in what they witnessed, only betrayal and murder. He wished he could grant them comfort, even in their dying breaths, but there would be no time for that. The God of War came to their gates, and strength alone would defy him.

Ashhur readied his blade, its fine edge shimmering white and gold. Thirty of the winged soldiers-war demons, as Thulos had named them-approached from above in a diamond formation. Letting out a cry to their god, the demons dove with near suicidal speed. They’d give their lives for Thulos, if only to bring him a drop of blood closer to victory. Such devotion. Such loyalty. Ashhur wondered where he and his brother had gone so very wrong.

“Your very forms reek of chaos!” Karak shouted to them as they dove. “Come die and be cleansed.”

Fire wreathed his sword, and he swung in wide arcs, unafraid of the charge. Ashhur stepped aside, giving himself room to fight, and he met the assault with his own twirling blade of light. With each swing they cut down several demons at once, blasting through their bronze armor, shattering their wings so that both blood and feathers rained down from above.

Three demons flew past, slashing out with long halberds. Ashhur twisted, let his armor absorb the glancing hits, and then spun with sword raised high. As the third demon curved about, a great flash shone from the metal, blinding in its power. Unable to see, the three banked upward, failing to react in time. Into one of the tall marble homes they slammed. Ashhur heard every bone break, heard the drip of their blood, the crunch of their armor as the force of their impact bent its shape. A single step left, a pivot, and his sword swung through the air, the arc perfect, slicing in twain the first demon and removing the head of the second following behind. Their bodies crashed against Ashhur, but his feet remained planted, their weight bouncing off him as if he were made of stone.

“Chaos!” Karak screamed, seemingly overwhelmed by fury. Fire blasted from his sword, lashing into the air in great waves. Those demons unfortunate enough to be in its way were pulverized, screaming and plummeting, their skin blackening to ash, their armor melting. Around and around danced Karak’s sword, filling the sky with fire, until the last of the demons fled toward the outer wall to rejoin their god.

Their departure did little to calm Ashhur’s brother.

“Everywhere, chaos!” Karak roared. “The fields, the rivers, our cities and forests! Only the graveyards know peace.”

The ground rumbled, and from the far wall they both heard a loud crack .

“Blame our brother,” Ashhur said. “And save your fury. The siege engines roll forth.”

They ran faster, taking giant strides with their long legs. At either side cowered the women and children of Allaketh, taking to the streets to cry out their fear and grief to their gods. Ashhur did his best to ignore them, to focus on the task at hand. It was they he sought to defend, those powerless before the war machines of Thulos, his demons ruling the air, his paladins overwhelming the ground. At least the archers had done much to whittle down the fliers so that they were but a nuisance to Allaketh’s ground troops as they massed before the great double doors protecting the city. But without men on the walls, there was nothing to slow the battering rams, and with another great tremble the doors shook.

“They will not last,” Ashhur said.

“Thulos will lead their charge,” said Karak. “Let us meet him and end this now. This world has no need for a God of War. Let Order and Justice be all that reigns.”

“We’ll reign over only corpses,” Ashhur said, thinking of the conquest Thulos had waged across the continent, devastating city after city.

Karak’s sword lifted higher.

“I can imagine worse fates,” he said. “Stand tall before our soldiers. We are their gods, their source of strength and courage. Do not fail them.”

Toward the crumbling gate they dashed, and their soldiers moved aside so their path remained unblocked. Rumble after rumble, crack after crack , multiple battering rams hammered into the steel-reinforced wood. Ashhur felt his focus narrowing, saw the sheen across his sword reach blinding levels. All his rage he focused into his weapon. With it, he could cleave stone and steel like warm butter. With it, he could even pierce the flesh of a god. A great bellowing cry left his throat, drowning out the cacophony unleashed by the shattering of the gates. Ashhur led the way, Karak a mere footstep behind, as Thulos’s paladins came surging forth. They held their radiant weapons, hammers and swords and axes, and their armor was the finest in the land, bronze-tinted steel that shimmered red with the power of their faith.

Against the rage of gods, that armor meant nothing.

Karak and Ashhur waded into them, and if the onslaught of paladins was a river, they were the dam. Blood soaked their armor, and every swing of their weapons brought down dozens. At either side were Allaketh’s defenders, forming an enclosing ring so that any who somehow survived were quickly cut down. Soon the door was sealed with the bodies of the dead. His weapon heavy in his hand, Ashhur took a step back to survey all they’d done. Hundreds of paladins, Thulos’s finest, broken by their fury.

But Thulos was not there.

“We have been played for fools,” Karak said, and Ashhur heard the trace of fear buried in his anger.

To the far west came a new rumble, deeper, longer. With it came an ear-splitting snap , and there was no doubt as to what Ashhur heard. The very wall itself was crumbling.