James Somers - The Realm Shift

Swords flashed at him, but Ethan managed to defend himself. People, who had been eating and laughing, moments before, now stalked toward him from every direction. Each of their expressions had changed from jovial to hate-filled.

Ethan leaped over several possessed people, trying to find space to fight as they closed in. More swords swung at him. Men leaped at him like wild animals lunging for their prey. Ethan’s blade cut the air. His weapon met one sword in flight and then another, but they were too many.

The battle in the bottom of the slaver ship’s cargo hold flashed through his mind again. He had walked into a similar predicament now. Then, he had barely escaped, but now he faced a far more powerful foe.

Ethan remembered how his weapon multiplied as needed and found the second blade at his hip again. He freed one of his hands to take it, using it just in time to block another sword coming at him. He blazed a trail through some of the closest dinner guests as he fought wildly with both swords. Each time he hit a person, the blades struck the demon within, sending the creature tumbling out of its host. The humans crumpled to the floor, while the demons dissolved into the ether-returning to their own wicked abode.

But there were more to replace those who fell. Ethan noticed that General Rommil had not entered the battle. A possessed attacker managed to strike Ethan. The pain was excruciating, but his armor protected him from the worst of it. He fought back and dispatched the demon and its host-one to unconsciousness, the other to the netherworld.

Two more strikes got past his defenses. He felt the pain even though he did not see any wounds. Their strikes weakened him-each unseen wound sapping his strength. Ethan leaped straight up out of the swarm of bodies trying to pile on him like ants on a piece of discarded food. He reached the high stone ceiling, clinging to it like a fly. Rommil still stood at the far end of the throne room. Ethan leaped away from the granite ceiling at an angle, bringing him down near the general.

Rommil appeared surprised by Ethan’s aggressive move. He grabbed his broadsword from its leaning position at the arm of the throne, holding it out in front of him. Ethan hit the floor, running toward General Rommil and the demon, Jericho, within.

Ethan used his momentum to his advantage. He struck Rommil’s broadsword with one of his own, deflecting the weapon. He drove the other right into the Wraith General. But in the split second before it hit Rommil, Jericho leaped from the old soldier’s body. Without the presence of the demon, Ethan’s weapon pierced Rommil’s physical body. Jericho shot away to the stone wall, immediately bouncing back with his own spiritual sword in hand. Ethan withdrew his sword from Rommil, letting the old soldier fall back on the throne. He deflected Jericho’s attack, but noticed the possessed soldiers closing in again from the far side of the throne room.

Jericho deflected several shots and struck Ethan’s face with his fist, sending the boy falling backward to the floor. Ethan recovered quickly, then scrambled back to his feet to attack the demon.

The possessed mob had begun to overrun Ethan’s position, when a wild whoop erupted from the middle of their ranks. Howls of pain came from the soldiers between the two gigantic lavers filled with wine. Levi and Gideon had emerged from the floor grate, swinging cutlasses taken with them from the earlier sea battle.

Levi had the same wild-eyed expression as before. Ethan loved seeing it now in his time of trouble. Gideon somersaulted over some of the possessed soldiers, landing among them. His entire body became a whirlwind of destruction. His elusive blade dispatched members of the mob like a scythe laying down wheat, while his fists and feet pounded through their ranks like battering rams.

Jericho grew furious at the sight of them coming to Ethan’s aid. He launched into a furious barrage of jabs and slashes, forcing Ethan back. Jericho continued to advance on Ethan, his every hacking blow threatening to dispatch the Deliverer once and for all.

Gideon and Levi searched for Ethan, but they could not see him or his demon opponent. They only saw Rommil’s dead body draped haphazardly across the throne. Gideon and Bonifast continued to push in that direction, hoping that Ethan was still in the throne room somewhere.

Ethan felt his wounds aching-the same wounds he had just received when the mob of soldiers had swarmed against him. He grew weaker by the second. What had happened to Shaddai? Where was the strength he had known recently? Why had he not prayed before coming into this battle as Gideon had warned?

All of these questions hammered Ethan’s mind as Jericho took advantage of his weakness, driving him back. Jericho knocked one of the spiritual swords from Ethan’s hand. It evaporated in mid-air as it left him. The demon smashed Ethan’s face with his boot, knocking him back further, then Jericho flung his demonic broadsword at Ethan with both hands. Ethan was not fast enough to stop it. The weapon spun at him, struck his blade, deflected off and hit Ethan. The weapon exploded against him, shooting pain through his entire body. Ethan felt darkness take him as he disappeared from the spiritual plane.

Levi Bonifast and Gideon hammered away at the soldiers and armed civilians in the great throne room. Gideon remembered a time when he had been brought to this very room as a warrior apprentice. They had come nine years ago when he was just ten years old. He had been among a dozen others who would be officially accepted as fully trained priests in The Order of Shaddai that year. The High Priest, Isaiah, had brought them to receive the king’s blessing. That day had been one of the proudest moments of his young life. Now, Mordred owned the throne and darkness reigned in Nod.

Gideon plowed through the ranks of sword bearing merchants and infantry soldiers toward the throne. Between his skillful prowess and Captain Bonifast’s swashbuckling antics, they made steady progress. More enemies entered the throne room from the doors at the far end.

Gideon saw a flash of light nearby, Ethan suddenly appearing-tossed out of the spiritual plane like a rag doll. He spilt onto the stone floor like a basket of potatoes, unmoving. “LEVI!” Gideon shouted.

Levi ducked under one of the massive legs of a giant laver in order to block a sword and return his own. He looked up in time to see Gideon shoulder block a merchant out of his way and use the poor fellow’s back as a springboard to somersault over several other people.

Gideon landed on the stone floor, running toward Ethan. The boy lay unconscious but breathing. Gideon found the strength to lift him onto his shoulders, bearing the boy’s weight. He tried to avoid the mass of soldiers coming after him. At least, the enemy had been diverted between himself and Levi.

Gideon ran away from the group of possessed soldiers rushing after him. He led them in a wide arc around the end of the throne room, using one of the long tables from the banquet as a barrier. He ran straight for Levi, who had cleared out the soldiers around himself. Time had run out for them.

“What do we do? There are too many,” Gideon said, as they met again in front of a giant laver. The demon possessed closed from behind. They had seconds before the soldiers overwhelmed them.

Without thinking about it, Levi turned and hacked through one of the four support legs holding the laver up. Two strikes damaged it enough, so that it gave way completely, spilling massive quantities of wine out onto the chamber’s stone floor.

Hundreds of gallons of red wine swept up the wooden banquet tables, tossing them around the room like toys. Translucent red waves toppled bodies and furnishings, searching for the path of least resistance.