David Dalglish - The Death of Promises

“I will hold the portal,” she said, showing no strain from its size or distance. “I killed us all. It is the least I can do. Prepare your magic. The demons approach.”

“Demons?” Deathmask asked. “What is she talking about?”

To this she pointed west. Tarlak cast a spell to augment his eyes, his jaw dropping open when it completed.

“We’re in trouble,” he said. “Someone find Antonil, we need people moving through this portal, now!”

Aurelia cast a similar spell, her heart sinking at what she saw. Soaring through the air in perfect ranks were hundreds of the winged men she and Deathmask had fought earlier. Many of them carried red banners marked with the yellow fist.

“An entire army,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “Are they what Qurrah has brought into this world?”

“Fight them,” Mira said. “Unless mother denies me my strength, I will hold.”

“Deathmask,” Tarlak said, tipping his hat. “Care to fight side by side to protect our goddess?”

“I enjoy my life,” Deathmask said, his hand dipping into the bag of ash hanging from his belt. “And I’ll enjoy this battle as well.”

Antonil ordered his people into a giant line stretching up the hill. Five wide they rushed the survivors through while the remaining troops of Veldaren flanked them on both sides. Mira stood beside the portal, her arms raised to the sky and her eyes closed. Her hair tossed about while her dress flapped against her legs. High above the clouds darkened and grumbled angrily. The two paladins stood at her side, their orders simple. Mira was not to be touched. The blue portal hissed and shook as five by five the people fled through.

“Do not panic, and do not stop!” Antonil shouted as he rode his horse down the long line of frantic refugees. “As long as you hold breath make for the portal!” He circled the greater mass of people at the bottom of the hill eager to join the line, again shouting his command. The soldiers flanking drew their swords and saluted, and the sign of formality and duty soothed those climbing toward the swirling blue magic.

Beyond the last few families and peasants, the Eschaton stood in a long line. They stared east with baited breaths. Deathmask’s crew intermixed with them, magic sparking on their fingertips. They were eight in all, the first and strongest line of defense against the coming demons.

“Use everything you’ve got to get their attention,” Tarlak said as the sky swarmed with dull red armor and beating wings. “Keep them on us as long as you can. With each volley, take a few steps back.”

“As you wish, master wizard,” Deathmask said, ash hovering so thick before his face his features were all but gone. “And no one be a fool. When the battle is lost, make for the portal. Dying here means nothing.”

“Such elegant words,” Harruq muttered.

“I don’t exactly feel like dying here either,” Aurelia said, but her voice was distracted. She was trying to estimate the number of soldiers that approached. By her guess, each banner that flew represented a unit of fifty, and she counted nine banners. She winced.

“Daggerwork may not be enough,” Mier said.

“We need more than daggers,” Nien said.

Veliana drew her own, kissed the blades, and stared at the sky with her lone eye. “Their armor is thick, but daggers will do just fine,” she said.

The twins chuckled at her but said nothing.

“They’re almost here,” Harruq said. He could see the giant red wings, the crimson armor, and the wicked weapons hanging from their belts. Silhouetted by a blackened sky, they seemed a demonic army indeed.

“Let’s give them a good welcome, shall we?” Tarlak said before beginning his spellcasting. Deathmask and Aurelia joined him, choosing their largest and flashiest spells. A ball of fire shot from Tarlak’s hands, smoke trailing behind it. When it struck the first soldier it detonated, consuming more than twenty in fire. Aurelia’s spell was a great barrage of ice lances. Forced to evade, the demons broke their perfect ranks as ten of their own plummeted to the ground. Deathmask’s was the worst. In the center of their ranks a small ball of shadow appeared unseen. At his command, it exploded, filling the sky with thousands of black-tipped arrows. Most bounced off the armor the demons wore, but their wings carried no such protection. Deathmask laughed as he saw more than fifty drop to their deaths.

“You need to teach me that spell,” Tarlak said with a whistle.

“You would not want to learn,” Deathmask said. “Not while the golden mountain hangs from your neck.”

“Damn,” Tarlak said. “That’s a shame.”

So instead he prepared a second fireball as a great swarm of metal descended.

U lamn hovered high in the sky, a banner carrier holding flight beside him. The general swore as he saw the spells decimate his army. He had expected a ragtag band of survivors for him to slaughter, but powerful spellcasters? Even worse, he saw the swirling blue portal atop the hill the mass climbed. But Ulamn had conquered many worlds, and fought with spellcasters greater than those arrayed against him.

“Send a single unit after the casters,” he ordered. “Have the rest assault those atop the hill. I want that portal closed.”

Two demons beside him tucked their wings and dove, screaming out their general’s orders. The army split in two, each curling around the initial defense line and hooking back to the hill. Antonil’s men raised their shields and shouted. Their time to fight had come.

D amn it, they’re not taking the bait,” Tarlak shouted as he blasted several demons with lightning as they passed.

“Make for the top,” Haern said. He turned to Harruq and motioned for him to follow.

“But Aurelia needs me,” the half-orc protested.

“Now!” Haern shouted. He leapt more than twenty feet into the air, his sabers drawn. The few demons foolish enough to fly near screamed as their throats were cut and their wings severed. Harruq snarled and gave chase, running outside the line of Antonil’s men to avoid the throng of refugees.

“Eyes ahead,” Veliana said, twirling her daggers.

A unit of fifty dove for the line, their ranks spread wide to lessen the damage of magical attacks. Lightning and ice struck down several, but then they closed the gap. Mier and Nien let loose their daggers, hurling four at a time into the air. The blades shimmered purple with magic. Those that tried streaking straight at Tarlak veered off, unable to withstand the barrage. Veliana crouched before Deathmask, ready to defend. Deathmask curled his hand, sapping the strength from the first to near. The demon struck the dirt ten feet before him, his wings unable to keep him afloat.

“Get down,” Veliana said as two more arced close and swung their long glaives. Veliana jumped into the air, her legs tucked against her chest. As she fell backward her daggers lashed out, perfectly timed. The long blades cut beneath her, her twisted body slipping in between the wooden shafts. Her left dagger cut straight through one’s neck, spewing blood. Her right severed tendons, and unable to bear the pain the demon dropped his glaive and ascended.

“Mere distractions,” Deathmask said as he stood, hurling small bolts of fire to keep away a few circling demons. “They will kill Mira while we play.”

Aurelia had no protector, so she relied on her own magical strength. As the demons came whirling in she tore the dirt from the ground and hurled it high. The demons bounced and slammed through the boulders. Many fell unconscious while others veered away from the dangerous trap.

“Make for the portal,” the elf shouted.

She hurled the boulders, crushing a few remaining demons that circled above them. Turning about she saw the true battle raging. The shouts of dying and panicked rolled down the hill. The elf closed her eyes, her mind focused on Mira at the top. She felt her body shiver, and when she opened her eyes she stood beside the girl, the tempest wind blowing her hair and dress.