Floria
This was insane.
Floria dove into a shell hole, trying to keep her shotgun out of the muck as a Dark Hound came charging out of the smoke. Rolling onto her back, she fired into the chest of the demon a second before it landed on her.
The dead weight of the thing pushed her into the mud. Its rank breath filled her sinuses, razor sharp fangs caressed her cheek as it feebly tried to bite her. She tried to wriggle out, her legs pushing against the wet dirt, but couldn't find any purchase in the pulverized earth. Hot, stinking blood coated her chest, making her skin itch.
Letting go of her shotgun, she worked her arm back and forth, managing to get it free. Grabbing the whistle hanging from her neck, she blew on it, hoping the piercing noise could be heard over the sounds of battle.
A moment later seven figures appeared, crawling through the mud. The biggest one came to her side, while the others formed a circle around her, shooting at anything that came too close. With the shells falling, trying to break the horde of demons into more manageable waves, and the sheer amount of bullets flying through the air, her small squad was barely noticeable.
“You OK, Lieutenant?” Private Pol asked, dragging the demon corpse off of her.
“Just stuck,” she replied. Rolling to her stomach, she looked at her shotgun and grimaced, the barrel was filthy. “Where's the Regua?”
Pol pointed towards a pack of demons at least fifty yards away. “In the middle of that.”
Cursing, she got to her hands and knees, trying to avoid the bullets that would take her head off if she got too high, she raised her voice to be heard. “We need to take some of the pressure of the Regua. Lucas, Sofia, take point. Pol you're guarding our back. Everyone else get a grenade ready, when we get to about twenty yards throw it and start shooting.”
Her squad got moving, going from one bit of cover to the next. Four years of fighting demons, first in their desert home, than through the forests and mountains on their way here, and finally over several weeks on this bloody field alongside their former enemies, had made them expert fighters. Anyone who was a slow learner, incompetent or just unlucky was dead, or too badly maimed to keep fighting. Whenever a demon noticed them, shots rang out, dropping it before it could get too close.
Finally they were close enough to throw the heavy metal grenades, the last manufactured ones Desolation Fort had in their supply depot. Pulling the pin, Floria shouted, “Now!” and lobbed the grenade at the edge of the demons, trying not to get too close to the Regua, who could be heard shouting and cursing in the middle of the pack.
The grenades went off, killing several of the demons and knocking more off their feet. Firing into the surprised pack, demons fell not knowing what had hit them.
Dozens more turned to see what had dared attack them.
“Well we've got their attention,” Floria muttered, as at least half the monsters broke off from their attack on the necromancer and charged.
Firing as quickly as she could, she allowed herself to smile. If they were going to die, they'd at least done their duty.
General Ajani
Looking over a map of the pass, Ajani watched tiny figures moving, fighting and dying on the thin wooden panels. Ornately carved runes glowed along the edges, absorbing the energy of Luis, a Yellow Mage, who sat patiently, ready to pass his orders to the other mages fighting in the trenches.
“Luis, send another three squads to number twelve, 2nd trench line. Bring grenades,” he said. The trench was about to be hit by several hundred demons who had finished slaughtering everyone in reach and were now heading for the nearest humans they could see.
He should be leaving orders like this to his subordinates. A general was supposed to focus on the army as a whole, not single trenches and squads. But his army was less than four thousand strong, counting the child soldiers, and squeezed into a relatively narrow pass. It wasn't the seventy thousand men he'd led at the start of the war, before the Khabir Confederacy had died.
Frowning he watched another front line trench fall. A few soldiers managed to escape, fleeing for their lives down the side trenches. A squad of shock troops tried to slow the demons, they didn't last long.
If his people had been properly trained, he would have ordered them to fall back. But he was dealing with half trained refugees, backed up by a few hundred professional soldiers and a thousand religious fanatics cavalrymen. If he ordered them back, the refugees would panic and rout, causing everyone else to do the same. It was better to hold the line and try to plug any holes as quickly as possible.
“Luis, mortars rapid fire, number four, 1st trench line.”
There was one particularly bright spot. He had no idea why the necromancer had left her trench, but wherever she went the demons died. Now they were mostly giving her a wide birth, only sending in a few demons to keep her away from the rest. If only he could direct her, but she wasn't listening to Luis, and moved so erratically he wondered if she was insane. At least her trench was relatively secure thanks to her presence.
The rest of the trench lines were pouring fire onto the demons. He'd organized the trenches to form a crescent, flanked by the steep cliffs of the pass. The field before them was killing field. Against any human army, they would have lasted weeks or months, until starvation and artillery killed them. But the demons weren't human.
Still, despite the loses, the battle was going well. They were still alive and it was almost evening. He hadn't expected that to happen. Looking up from the map, he peered through a pair of brass binoculars towards the woods. Depending on how many demons were in the horde, they might survive until the morning.
He lowered the binoculars, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Where there had been a flood of demons streaming into the battlefield, now there were only a few thousand. That shouldn't be happening, they had only faced a quarter of the horde. Unless there were surprisingly few demons in the region, they should be looking at a days long fight.
“What are you bastards planning?” he asked.
Von
Stretching out his hand, Von covered a group of soldiers in a shield of pure magic, protecting them from the earth shattering blows of a Crusher. A wave of his hand sent the shield crashing into the oversized demon, crushing it against the side of the trench.
Mortars exploded along the lip of the trench, slowing the demons that were trying to get into the trench. Bullets from trenches higher up the pass flew just over their heads, cutting down still more of the monsters. Soldiers in the trench got back on the line, firing point blank into the horde, desperately trying to push them back.
Spinning on his heels, Von raced down the trench towards another group of demons. His sword flashed, taking the head off of a Brute. An Imp moved to gut him, when the butt of a rifle knocked it to the ground. He stabbed it before it could get up.
A Reaper stabbed its bone scythe into the stomach of a shock trooper. The man, screaming in pain, raised his shotgun and fired it point blank into the demons face. They both dropped unmoving to the ground. Von jumped over the bodies, there was nothing he could do for the dead, and there were still demons who needed to die.
Between himself and the reinforcements, they managed to clear the trench. Over half the soldiers were dead or wounded, but the artillery was still firing, and more soldiers were running up to take their place on the line. The children came back from the supply trenches and dugouts, bringing ammunition, first aid kits, and more homemade grenades. Kneeling in the blood soaked dirt, he struggled to catch his breath. He didn't know how long the fighting had lasted. Mentally it seemed to have only been a few minutes, physically it felt like days.
A voice whispered in his mind. 'Von, what's the situation?' Luis asked.
'Holding. Took a beating. Nearly lost it. Killed them all. Still holding,' he said. His thoughts were choppy and confused from exhaustion, he hoped he could have a few moments to rest.
'Good to hear. Almost every other front line trench is overrun. The horde seems to be lessening. General Ajani thinks we can hold the second line, but a few trenches are touch and go.'
'Who's holding out?'
'You and Keira. But we have a problem, Keira's gone insane.'
Keir
Howling filled his mind, overpowering his thoughts and emotions. There was only the torment of souls being torn apart, ravenous hunger, and the need to kill.
A gunshot rang out behind him. Spinning around he saw a demon collapse to the ground. It was close enough that mud splattered on his face. A human waved at him, shouting something he couldn't understand. He shrieked in anger, he could feel the magic and souls within him being sapped away, weakening him, leaving him vulnerable.
He needed more souls, and he couldn't get them from the humans.
The earth erupted and an explosion sent him flying.
He felt something snap in his arm. The pain was a drop in an ocean of agony, not even worth noticing.
Trying to get to his feet, his arm refused to support him. He screamed in anger, it quickly became a coughing fit. He couldn't get enough air.
A fist crashed into his back. His shield held, but his body was driven deeper into the mud. He gasped for air, breathing in blood and dirt.
Another hammer blow came down.
Then he was picked up, hands enveloped his arms and legs. A monster leered as it slowly began ripping him apart.
Keir grinned.
He didn't see the physical body of the four armed Brute. All he could see now was the magic and life that flowed through the demon. He wrapped his own magic around it, pulling its energy and soul into himself. Laughter erupted from his throat while the dark, vicious soul of the demon screeched in agony as it entered his body.
The demon turned to ash, dropping Keir to the ground. A pack of Dark Hounds fell on him, snapping and tearing, trying to get at his flesh.
Swinging his sword one handed, the howl that came from Keir's mouth matched the howling in his mind.
Floria
The mud tasted like blood.
Floria looked around searching for her squad. It wasn't easy lying flat in the dirt, trying not to get shot by her own side or killed by the demons. The blood blinding her left eye didn't help matters. She wasn't sure if that wound was from shrapnel, a bullet or a claw.
A Gnasher screeching in hunger, ran towards her, it's massive teeth clicking loud enough to be heard over the noise of battle. Aiming one of her revolvers, her shotgun lost long ago, she fired three times. The demon fell face first into the mud, mewling and struggling to reach her. She ignored it, not wanting to waste the bullet to finish it off.
Reloading her revolver, she started crawling through the torn up, blood soaked field, heading for the Regua. At least she could see her. No one else was insane enough, or powerful enough, to be fighting toe to toe with the demons. Not that many demons wanted to fight the necromancer.
The area directly around the Regua was mostly free of demons and explosions. While shells kept falling nearby, this part of the battlefield looked deserted. A steady trickle of demons kept coming, but most seemed to veer off, searching for easier prey.
It was the only reason she was still alive.
“Flor, coming over!” A large figure waved at her, then began crawling on his belly, covered in mud and blood. She grinned to see one of her soldiers was still alive.
“Pol, where the blazes is everyone?” she asked.
“Lucas lost a leg, Sofia and Beil dragged him back. I think Jan got hit by a shell. I don't know where anyone else is, lost them when those Crushers jumped us,” he said.
She cursed. “I think we're all that's left. How are you for bullets?”
“Got two revolvers and twelve bullets. Lost my ammo belt to an Imp.”
Taking a clip on bullet holder from her own belt, she passed it over. “Should be twenty in there, don't waste them.”
Turning back to the Regua, who was stumbling across the battlefield looking for more demons, she motioned for Pol to follow her through the muck. Coming to a shredded demon, she rose up a little trying to climb over a leg that was larger than she was.
A sharp, hot pain erupted on her thigh. Biting her tongue to keep from screaming, she dove back into the mud. Rolling onto her back, revolver raised, there wasn't anything for her to shoot.
Looking at her leg, her pants were slit, revealing a nasty cut from a bullet.
“You OK?” Pol asked.
“Yeah. Some dog fucker took a shot at me. Just a graze, let's go.” She didn't have time to deal with the wound, it hurt but it wouldn't slow her down.
Keeping low, they made it to the Regua. The woman looked like hell, mud and blood covered her, along with the shifting darkness that seemed to shield her. Her arm was badly broken, and there seemed to be several bloody wounds all along her body. The gashes and cuts weren't slowing her down however. Turning to look at them, she still had the same mad grin, it flickered momentarily into a look of disgust. Then she turned away heading towards the demons that still ran across the battlefield.
“What's the plan? We're screwed if we get into a real fight,” Pol asked.
“Watch her back until we run out of bullets.”
“And then?”
“It's been an honour fighting at your side,” she said, grinning at him.
Pol glared at her for a moment before grinning as well. “At least guarding the Regua should get me a good position in the afterlife.”
A dozen demons broke off from the horde, heading for them, or more specifically the necromancer.
Scrambling forward, Floria and Pol saw the demons, large and small ones, move to flank the Regua. Raising their revolvers, they started shooting the smaller ones, careful to avoid the woman who was charging at a massive Reaper that was at least twenty feet long.
The demons ignored them, even as bullets cut them down. they were solely focused on their target. That suited Floria just fine, she was almost out of bullets, and going against them hand to hand was a death sentence.
Pausing to reload, she watched as one demon after another turned to ash. Each time, the necromancer howled like a wild animal. Floria realized that this wasn't a fight, it was a feast. Every demon that died fed the necromancer, making her move faster, fight harder and somehow kept her on her feet despite her injuries.
“What does it feel like to be the prey?” she whispered, as her peoples saviour once more stalked towards the horde.
Von
This was a bad idea.
He knew that going out into no man's land, even the strangely deserted part around Keir, was a death sentence. How the necromancer was still alive was a mystery. The fact that he and his group of volunteers, all Lleial, were still alive in the blasted, blood soaked wasteland was little short of a miracle.
It was slow going, one of the volunteers had been killed when they'd raised their head too high. That had been enough to make them all shove their faces in the dirt and crawl on their bellies. Fortunately most of the artillery and shooting was focused on the few thousand demons that were still charging the trenches, and not the mostly clear area around the necromancer.
'Where is she?' he thought to Luis.
'Eighty yards to your left. It looks like there are two soldiers close to her,' the mage responded.
Making sure his shield was in place and reinforced, he got to his knees and saw a handful of demons fighting, and dying, in the distance. Waving to his men, they moved a little more quickly through the craters and piles of dirt that littered the field.
It took longer than he'd like, but they finally managed to get close to Keir. Even from a distance the necromancer looked horrible. The woman was moving jerkily, one moment barely able to hold her sword in her one good arm, head down, sagging as if utterly exhausted, her dark shield flickering in and out of existence. Then she'd touch a demon, turning it to ash, and she'd move with almost superhuman speed, killing three or four demons in a matter of seconds, before slowing down again.
He'd never seen anything like it.
A four armed Brute climbed out of a shell hole, it was badly wounded, but it still lumbered towards the fighting.
Von saw his soldiers raise their rifles, ready to take the monster down, when his jaw dropped. Two figures came out of the mud, jumping on the demon from behind and began stabbing it with long knives.
If the Brute hadn't been badly injured, it would have killed them in seconds. But all it could do was feebly try to grab them, before falling to its knees. Its attackers jumped away, diving back into the mud.
“Kill the demons around Keira,” he ordered, not wanting to use any more of his magic if he didn't have to.
The demons fell to the unexpected attack, leaving Keir standing alone, sword raised. Her eyes fell on him for a moment, there was no hint of recognition in them. She turned away, slowly walking towards the sound of fighting, dragging her sword in the mud.
“KEIR STOP!” he ordered.
The necromancer stopped dead in her tracks.
'Luis, tell them to stop shooting near the necromancer. We've got her, but she's in bad shape,' he thought.
“Stay down until you're sure they won't shoot us,” he told his soldiers.
Getting to his feet he walked up to Keir, flinching as a bullet whistled past his ear.
“Keir, can you hear me?” he asked.
The necromancer glared at him, teeth clenched so tightly it looked like they were about to break as her body shook. Her skin was a mix of dark red where veins pressed up against the skin and mottled green, black and blue bruises. Her eyes were so bloodshot it was impossible to see any white. Her muscles, clearly visible under her torn and ragged clothes, were taut. Bone jutted out of her left arm, gashes and cuts covered her body.
Touching her forehead, Von jerked his hand back from the heat.
A new group of demons came towards them. He ignored the monsters and the gunshots that cut them down. Weaving a healing spell together, he wrapped the energy around Keir. The necromancers skin paled slightly, her veins no longer quite so prominent.
Keir collapsed into the mud.
Casting another spell, Von saw her heart was beating so fast it was about to burst. He could barely sense her life energy, her body was using everything it had trying to stay alive.
'Luis! I'm coming in with Keir. I need a healer, she's about to die,' he thought.
Waving at his men, he shouted, “Carry her, we're going straight to the trench.”
A large soldier picked the tiny necromancer up in his arms, and began walking rapidly towards the trench. Von matched his steps, grabbed Keir's hand, channelling what was left of his magic into her, praying that she would survive.
Floria
This was insane.
Floria dove into a shell hole, trying to keep her shotgun out of the muck as a Dark Hound came charging out of the smoke. Rolling onto her back, she fired into the chest of the demon a second before it landed on her.
The dead weight of the thing pushed her into the mud. Its rank breath filled her sinuses, razor sharp fangs caressed her cheek as it feebly tried to bite her. She tried to wriggle out, her legs pushing against the wet dirt, but couldn't find any purchase in the pulverized earth. Hot, stinking blood coated her chest, making her skin itch.
Letting go of her shotgun, she worked her arm back and forth, managing to get it free. Grabbing the whistle hanging from her neck, she blew on it, hoping the piercing noise could be heard over the sounds of battle.
A moment later seven figures appeared, crawling through the mud. The biggest one came to her side, while the others formed a circle around her, shooting at anything that came too close. With the shells falling, trying to break the horde of demons into more manageable waves, and the sheer amount of bullets flying through the air, her small squad was barely noticeable.
“You OK, Lieutenant?” Private Pol asked, dragging the demon corpse off of her.
“Just stuck,” she replied. Rolling to her stomach, she looked at her shotgun and grimaced, the barrel was filthy. “Where's the Regua?”
Pol pointed towards a pack of demons at least fifty yards away. “In the middle of that.”
Cursing, she got to her hands and knees, trying to avoid the bullets that would take her head off if she got too high, she raised her voice to be heard. “We need to take some of the pressure of the Regua. Lucas, Sofia, take point. Pol you're guarding our back. Everyone else get a grenade ready, when we get to about twenty yards throw it and start shooting.”
Her squad got moving, going from one bit of cover to the next. Four years of fighting demons, first in their desert home, than through the forests and mountains on their way here, and finally over several weeks on this bloody field alongside their former enemies, had made them expert fighters. Anyone who was a slow learner, incompetent or just unlucky was dead, or too badly maimed to keep fighting. Whenever a demon noticed them, shots rang out, dropping it before it could get too close.
Finally they were close enough to throw the heavy metal grenades, the last manufactured ones Desolation Fort had in their supply depot. Pulling the pin, Floria shouted, “Now!” and lobbed the grenade at the edge of the demons, trying not to get too close to the Regua, who could be heard shouting and cursing in the middle of the pack.
The grenades went off, killing several of the demons and knocking more off their feet. Firing into the surprised pack, demons fell not knowing what had hit them.
Dozens more turned to see what had dared attack them.
“Well we've got their attention,” Floria muttered, as at least half the monsters broke off from their attack on the necromancer and charged.
Firing as quickly as she could, she allowed herself to smile. If they were going to die, they'd at least done their duty.
General Ajani
Looking over a map of the pass, Ajani watched tiny figures moving, fighting and dying on the thin wooden panels. Ornately carved runes glowed along the edges, absorbing the energy of Luis, a Yellow Mage, who sat patiently, ready to pass his orders to the other mages fighting in the trenches.
“Luis, send another three squads to number twelve, 2nd trench line. Bring grenades,” he said. The trench was about to be hit by several hundred demons who had finished slaughtering everyone in reach and were now heading for the nearest humans they could see.
He should be leaving orders like this to his subordinates. A general was supposed to focus on the army as a whole, not single trenches and squads. But his army was less than four thousand strong, counting the child soldiers, and squeezed into a relatively narrow pass. It wasn't the seventy thousand men he'd led at the start of the war, before the Khabir Confederacy had died.
Frowning he watched another front line trench fall. A few soldiers managed to escape, fleeing for their lives down the side trenches. A squad of shock troops tried to slow the demons, they didn't last long.
If his people had been properly trained, he would have ordered them to fall back. But he was dealing with half trained refugees, backed up by a few hundred professional soldiers and a thousand religious fanatics cavalrymen. If he ordered them back, the refugees would panic and rout, causing everyone else to do the same. It was better to hold the line and try to plug any holes as quickly as possible.
“Luis, mortars rapid fire, number four, 1st trench line.”
There was one particularly bright spot. He had no idea why the necromancer had left her trench, but wherever she went the demons died. Now they were mostly giving her a wide birth, only sending in a few demons to keep her away from the rest. If only he could direct her, but she wasn't listening to Luis, and moved so erratically he wondered if she was insane. At least her trench was relatively secure thanks to her presence.
The rest of the trench lines were pouring fire onto the demons. He'd organized the trenches to form a crescent, flanked by the steep cliffs of the pass. The field before them was killing field. Against any human army, they would have lasted weeks or months, until starvation and artillery killed them. But the demons weren't human.
Still, despite the loses, the battle was going well. They were still alive and it was almost evening. He hadn't expected that to happen. Looking up from the map, he peered through a pair of brass binoculars towards the woods. Depending on how many demons were in the horde, they might survive until the morning.
He lowered the binoculars, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Where there had been a flood of demons streaming into the battlefield, now there were only a few thousand. That shouldn't be happening, they had only faced a quarter of the horde. Unless there were surprisingly few demons in the region, they should be looking at a days long fight.
“What are you bastards planning?” he asked.
Von
Stretching out his hand, Von covered a group of soldiers in a shield of pure magic, protecting them from the earth shattering blows of a Crusher. A wave of his hand sent the shield crashing into the oversized demon, crushing it against the side of the trench.
Mortars exploded along the lip of the trench, slowing the demons that were trying to get into the trench. Bullets from trenches higher up the pass flew just over their heads, cutting down still more of the monsters. Soldiers in the trench got back on the line, firing point blank into the horde, desperately trying to push them back.
Spinning on his heels, Von raced down the trench towards another group of demons. His sword flashed, taking the head off of a Brute. An Imp moved to gut him, when the butt of a rifle knocked it to the ground. He stabbed it before it could get up.
A Reaper stabbed its bone scythe into the stomach of a shock trooper. The man, screaming in pain, raised his shotgun and fired it point blank into the demons face. They both dropped unmoving to the ground. Von jumped over the bodies, there was nothing he could do for the dead, and there were still demons who needed to die.
Between himself and the reinforcements, they managed to clear the trench. Over half the soldiers were dead or wounded, but the artillery was still firing, and more soldiers were running up to take their place on the line. The children came back from the supply trenches and dugouts, bringing ammunition, first aid kits, and more homemade grenades. Kneeling in the blood soaked dirt, he struggled to catch his breath. He didn't know how long the fighting had lasted. Mentally it seemed to have only been a few minutes, physically it felt like days.
A voice whispered in his mind. 'Von, what's the situation?' Luis asked.
'Holding. Took a beating. Nearly lost it. Killed them all. Still holding,' he said. His thoughts were choppy and confused from exhaustion, he hoped he could have a few moments to rest.
'Good to hear. Almost every other front line trench is overrun. The horde seems to be lessening. General Ajani thinks we can hold the second line, but a few trenches are touch and go.'
'Who's holding out?'
'You and Keira. But we have a problem, Keira's gone insane.'
Keir
Howling filled his mind, overpowering his thoughts and emotions. There was only the torment of souls being torn apart, ravenous hunger, and the need to kill.
A gunshot rang out behind him. Spinning around he saw a demon collapse to the ground. It was close enough that mud splattered on his face. A human waved at him, shouting something he couldn't understand. He shrieked in anger, he could feel the magic and souls within him being sapped away, weakening him, leaving him vulnerable.
He needed more souls, and he couldn't get them from the humans.
The earth erupted and an explosion sent him flying.
He felt something snap in his arm. The pain was a drop in an ocean of agony, not even worth noticing.
Trying to get to his feet, his arm refused to support him. He screamed in anger, it quickly became a coughing fit. He couldn't get enough air.
A fist crashed into his back. His shield held, but his body was driven deeper into the mud. He gasped for air, breathing in blood and dirt.
Another hammer blow came down.
Then he was picked up, hands enveloped his arms and legs. A monster leered as it slowly began ripping him apart.
Keir grinned.
He didn't see the physical body of the four armed Brute. All he could see now was the magic and life that flowed through the demon. He wrapped his own magic around it, pulling its energy and soul into himself. Laughter erupted from his throat while the dark, vicious soul of the demon screeched in agony as it entered his body.
The demon turned to ash, dropping Keir to the ground. A pack of Dark Hounds fell on him, snapping and tearing, trying to get at his flesh.
Swinging his sword one handed, the howl that came from Keir's mouth matched the howling in his mind.
Floria
The mud tasted like blood.
Floria looked around searching for her squad. It wasn't easy lying flat in the dirt, trying not to get shot by her own side or killed by the demons. The blood blinding her left eye didn't help matters. She wasn't sure if that wound was from shrapnel, a bullet or a claw.
A Gnasher screeching in hunger, ran towards her, it's massive teeth clicking loud enough to be heard over the noise of battle. Aiming one of her revolvers, her shotgun lost long ago, she fired three times. The demon fell face first into the mud, mewling and struggling to reach her. She ignored it, not wanting to waste the bullet to finish it off.
Reloading her revolver, she started crawling through the torn up, blood soaked field, heading for the Regua. At least she could see her. No one else was insane enough, or powerful enough, to be fighting toe to toe with the demons. Not that many demons wanted to fight the necromancer.
The area directly around the Regua was mostly free of demons and explosions. While shells kept falling nearby, this part of the battlefield looked deserted. A steady trickle of demons kept coming, but most seemed to veer off, searching for easier prey.
It was the only reason she was still alive.
“Flor, coming over!” A large figure waved at her, then began crawling on his belly, covered in mud and blood. She grinned to see one of her soldiers was still alive.
“Pol, where the blazes is everyone?” she asked.
“Lucas lost a leg, Sofia and Beil dragged him back. I think Jan got hit by a shell. I don't know where anyone else is, lost them when those Crushers jumped us,” he said.
She cursed. “I think we're all that's left. How are you for bullets?”
“Got two revolvers and twelve bullets. Lost my ammo belt to an Imp.”
Taking a clip on bullet holder from her own belt, she passed it over. “Should be twenty in there, don't waste them.”
Turning back to the Regua, who was stumbling across the battlefield looking for more demons, she motioned for Pol to follow her through the muck. Coming to a shredded demon, she rose up a little trying to climb over a leg that was larger than she was.
A sharp, hot pain erupted on her thigh. Biting her tongue to keep from screaming, she dove back into the mud. Rolling onto her back, revolver raised, there wasn't anything for her to shoot.
Looking at her leg, her pants were slit, revealing a nasty cut from a bullet.
“You OK?” Pol asked.
“Yeah. Some dog fucker took a shot at me. Just a graze, let's go.” She didn't have time to deal with the wound, it hurt but it wouldn't slow her down.
Keeping low, they made it to the Regua. The woman looked like hell, mud and blood covered her, along with the shifting darkness that seemed to shield her. Her arm was badly broken, and there seemed to be several bloody wounds all along her body. The gashes and cuts weren't slowing her down however. Turning to look at them, she still had the same mad grin, it flickered momentarily into a look of disgust. Then she turned away heading towards the demons that still ran across the battlefield.
“What's the plan? We're screwed if we get into a real fight,” Pol asked.
“Watch her back until we run out of bullets.”
“And then?”
“It's been an honour fighting at your side,” she said, grinning at him.
Pol glared at her for a moment before grinning as well. “At least guarding the Regua should get me a good position in the afterlife.”
A dozen demons broke off from the horde, heading for them, or more specifically the necromancer.
Scrambling forward, Floria and Pol saw the demons, large and small ones, move to flank the Regua. Raising their revolvers, they started shooting the smaller ones, careful to avoid the woman who was charging at a massive Reaper that was at least twenty feet long.
The demons ignored them, even as bullets cut them down. they were solely focused on their target. That suited Floria just fine, she was almost out of bullets, and going against them hand to hand was a death sentence.
Pausing to reload, she watched as one demon after another turned to ash. Each time, the necromancer howled like a wild animal. Floria realized that this wasn't a fight, it was a feast. Every demon that died fed the necromancer, making her move faster, fight harder and somehow kept her on her feet despite her injuries.
“What does it feel like to be the prey?” she whispered, as her peoples saviour once more stalked towards the horde.
Von
This was a bad idea.
He knew that going out into no man's land, even the strangely deserted part around Keir, was a death sentence. How the necromancer was still alive was a mystery. The fact that he and his group of volunteers, all Lleial, were still alive in the blasted, blood soaked wasteland was little short of a miracle.
It was slow going, one of the volunteers had been killed when they'd raised their head too high. That had been enough to make them all shove their faces in the dirt and crawl on their bellies. Fortunately most of the artillery and shooting was focused on the few thousand demons that were still charging the trenches, and not the mostly clear area around the necromancer.
'Where is she?' he thought to Luis.
'Eighty yards to your left. It looks like there are two soldiers close to her,' the mage responded.
Making sure his shield was in place and reinforced, he got to his knees and saw a handful of demons fighting, and dying, in the distance. Waving to his men, they moved a little more quickly through the craters and piles of dirt that littered the field.
It took longer than he'd like, but they finally managed to get close to Keir. Even from a distance the necromancer looked horrible. The woman was moving jerkily, one moment barely able to hold her sword in her one good arm, head down, sagging as if utterly exhausted, her dark shield flickering in and out of existence. Then she'd touch a demon, turning it to ash, and she'd move with almost superhuman speed, killing three or four demons in a matter of seconds, before slowing down again.
He'd never seen anything like it.
A four armed Brute climbed out of a shell hole, it was badly wounded, but it still lumbered towards the fighting.
Von saw his soldiers raise their rifles, ready to take the monster down, when his jaw dropped. Two figures came out of the mud, jumping on the demon from behind and began stabbing it with long knives.
If the Brute hadn't been badly injured, it would have killed them in seconds. But all it could do was feebly try to grab them, before falling to its knees. Its attackers jumped away, diving back into the mud.
“Kill the demons around Keira,” he ordered, not wanting to use any more of his magic if he didn't have to.
The demons fell to the unexpected attack, leaving Keir standing alone, sword raised. Her eyes fell on him for a moment, there was no hint of recognition in them. She turned away, slowly walking towards the sound of fighting, dragging her sword in the mud.
“KEIR STOP!” he ordered.
The necromancer stopped dead in her tracks.
'Luis, tell them to stop shooting near the necromancer. We've got her, but she's in bad shape,' he thought.
“Stay down until you're sure they won't shoot us,” he told his soldiers.
Getting to his feet he walked up to Keir, flinching as a bullet whistled past his ear.
“Keir, can you hear me?” he asked.
The necromancer glared at him, teeth clenched so tightly it looked like they were about to break as her body shook. Her skin was a mix of dark red where veins pressed up against the skin and mottled green, black and blue bruises. Her eyes were so bloodshot it was impossible to see any white. Her muscles, clearly visible under her torn and ragged clothes, were taut. Bone jutted out of her left arm, gashes and cuts covered her body.
Touching her forehead, Von jerked his hand back from the heat.
A new group of demons came towards them. He ignored the monsters and the gunshots that cut them down. Weaving a healing spell together, he wrapped the energy around Keir. The necromancers skin paled slightly, her veins no longer quite so prominent.
Keir collapsed into the mud.
Casting another spell, Von saw her heart was beating so fast it was about to burst. He could barely sense her life energy, her body was using everything it had trying to stay alive.
'Luis! I'm coming in with Keir. I need a healer, she's about to die,' he thought.
Waving at his men, he shouted, “Carry her, we're going straight to the trench.”
A large soldier picked the tiny necromancer up in his arms, and began walking rapidly towards the trench. Von matched his steps, grabbed Keir's hand, channelling what was left of his magic into her, praying that she would survive.
