SDIV El Juego Chapter Thirty Part Three

Shanna was old, malevolent and sure in her own immortality. Centuries passed her quietly by as she schemed, moving towards her ultimate goal of godhood. From the humble an crowded beginnings of her birthing pool, she killed, maimed and eaten her way to the top. These Taartuns were but another example of an inferior and gullible race to be used up an thrown away. It irked that this insufferable dwarf stood in her way to greatness, with all the hallmarks of fulfilling a prophecy that she herself had invented. It never once entered her mind that she had also been used by one greater than herself and it was with this self-serving arrogance that she faced Cornelius.

He was enjoying himself. The release from pretence and the imminent possibility of really damaging the Old Hag buoyed him. Not since his little jaunt in the Forked Tongue on Luther, so long ago, had he truly enjoyed himself so much and the prospect for mayhem in front of him bode well for a delightful afternoon. Cornelius forgot about his mission, the raging demon ripping itself clear of the Tower and the imminent destruction of this world. Shanna was his and he would take payment for all his hurt and frustration from her scaly green hide. He actually laughed as he let go of the left handle and whipped the wire forward, aiming for the hand holding the staff. At the last minute he stopped, causing the wire to shudder and loop sideways, scoring a burning red line across Shanna’s flesh where it touched in passing. His power anchored him in place as he flicked the weapon backwards, grinning at Shanna’s screams and curses. 

Shanna tried to raise her staff and concentrate on her enemy, but it burned. Each little touch of the wire sent pain shooting throughout her body and she took her first step back. Cornelius followed, dancing in mid-air, the wire twirling round his body glaring white-hot as power shimmered of it in waves. Shanna stepped further away, her gaze fixed wholly on the maddening figure, her breath hissing in and out. Behind her rock cracked and tore, but she ignored it.

Something blurred past her vision and for a moment she thought Cornelius had again struck, but his answering grunt robbed her of that misconception. Glancing up, Shanna saw a large rock cleaved in half by the spinning wire and now looked behind her. A huge hand ripped at the earth, flinging rock pieces haphazardly into the air. A chance missile had distracted Cornelius. She took her opportunity and ran.

“Where do you think you are going?” drawled a lazy voice, in her mind. She recognized Viker’s tones but could not see him. Her flight from that battle had brought her here first, she could not let him receive her reward. Spinning she looked for her enemies, but only saw a hysterical Cornelius waltzing in her direction. Shanna ducked beneath a large clawed hand and grunted in resignation. The battle would have to be fought here. She struck her staff into the rent earth and harsh syllables poured from her misshapen mouth.

*

It was hungry…and there was so much food nearby. The earth itself revolted against the creature grasping at its enormous ankles, clawing at its mighty wings and ignoring its imperious demands. Fold Space called yet it was bound to this earthly plane, limited by an almost tantalising near-existence. Puny power raged around it but it needed meat.

Stopping for a moment it raised a huge face upwards and gulped in a gigantic breath. The taste of an approaching enemy stung it, the subtle flavours of Fold Space told the creature that soon it would face another of its kind and it must feed. A hint of old memory surfaced and it ceased struggling, plunging its freed hand deep into the earth. Old flesh was not the same yet it would do. It crammed the remains of Shan’s minions into its maw, ignoring the flesh-rotting disease that infected them and flexed its wings…

SDIV El Juego Chapter 29 Part 3

Kam’s level of excitement rose in conjunction with the lowering of the shuttle’s ramp and at one point Cornelius had to physically restrain him from rushing forward to welcome his brothers. The turret mounted auto-cannons which swivelled to cover him and the onrushing Sir Frederic and his men gave him pause for thought.

“Wait!” he growled as the ramp came to a halt and a group of Taartun warriors rushed out to secure the area.

Deliberately, Cornelius turned his back on the newcomers and raised his arms to try and slow down the enthusiastic Knight. With a spray of dirt and stone Sir Frederic appeared, narrowly missing the still hopping Kam as he hauled his mount to a halt.

“Well met, Cornelius,” said Frederic politely, as he raised his visor, “how are you feeling?”

Cornelius grinned as he saw the muzzle of Burns’ rifle trained on him, “Just fine Freddy, although Kam here seems to have been struck down with a severe case of Restless Legs Syndrome.”

“He’s back,” grumbled Burns sliding gratefully from his own mount, “snide little shit.”

“Love you too,” replied Cornelius blowing the soldier a kiss, “but enough of frivolities, it seems as though the never-ending threat of war has finally arrived and in numbers.”

Burns jerked his head towards the nervous-looking Taartuns, “Friends of yours?”

“Not sure,” mused Cornelius, “they might be…”

“And the Demons?” asked Sir Frederic, cautiously insistent in his doubts.

“Definitely not,” said Cornelius, “as well as those others. They seem rather unfriendly to me.”

“They burned and destroyed my village,” snarled the Knight.

“Well not our friends then,” said Cornelius quietly, anger tinging his words, “and we’ll just have to make sure that we do something about that.”

“First things first, though,” he said as he rubbed his hands together, “we need to ascertain if these Taartuns mean harm or just wish to worship the ground I walk on.”

“You’re not going to do…magic, are you,” asked Sir Frederic in a stage whisper.

“Not unless they start first,” replied Cornelius as he turned and made his way forward, “or at least until they piss me off.”

Burns shook his head and trailed behind the diminutive figure, “Told you he was back,” he muttered as he checked the magazine on his rifle, “and things can only get worse from here.”

SDIV El Juego Chapter 29 Part 2

The Tower

Cemetary Plain
Zone III

Kam pointed towards the sky and the contrails of descending craft.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Expected visitors,” commented Cornelius, squinting as he tried to concentrate on the roiling mass of battle below him, “you know, Kam, I don’t think that everyone will be happy with the new arrivals.”

“Are we happy?” queried Kam, doubt tinging his voice.

“Oh, we’re always happy, Kam,” replied Cornelius, “life is full of surprises for those who welcome them.”

“But who are these new people?” Kam sounded troubled, as though it was beyond him how this could be good news.

“Taartuns,” replied Cornelius, sitting back down and stretching out his legs.

“Our people then,” said Kam, “good, we could do with some help.”

“Hmm,” agreed Cornelius absently, “although I am not so sure how much of our people there are amongst them.”

“The Taartuns are our people,” insisted Kam.

“Allegedly,” said Cornelius, smiling as he felt the ground beneath him begin to tremble, “but as usual, they aren’t the only ones rushing to join the party.”

Kam turned as he too felt the approaching thunder. Behind him, the sun glinted off metal and a murmur of noise reached his ears.

“That was quick,” he commented, “they must have landed further away and are hurrying to join us.”

“Oh,” said Cornelius, “those aren’t the Taartuns, but I would at least classify them as friends.”

“What?” queried Kam, now even more confused.

“Sir Frederic approaches,” said Cornelius, “and it seems as though he has found some friends.”

*

“There,” called Sir Frederic, above the noise of drumming hooves, “I can see Cornelius.”

“Yeah,” grunted Burns, clinging on for dear life, “and it seems as though Kam stayed with him. That must be a good sign.”

Sir Frederic signalled his troops to aim for the two small figures and they wheeled to obey him. He was happy with the disciplined force which had joined him. His cousin had protested, as usual, but Sir Frederic’s call for volunteers had been readily answered.  Their reaction to Cornelius would need managing, but the greater threat of the demons and their followers would concentrate them on their true mission. The evidence of the village’s destruction and the atrocities committed there left little for dispute as to who they should be fighting. Now, if only Cornelius could restrain himself from displays of magic, they just might stand a chance.

“Watch out!” shouted Burns, as the first of the descending craft roared overhead, startling some of the mounts.

Even though he knew they were not about to attack, Sir Frederic ducked as the snub-winged craft rocketed overhead. Bolts of energy flew upwards from beyond the ridge and answering auto-cannons began to fire. He spurred his recalcitrant mount onwards, the quicker they joined the fight, the less time his men had to contemplate demons and magic.

“Sir Frederic!”

Burns shout and pointing finger drew his attention to the two lone figures and the craft which began to descend directly over them.

“To Battle!” he roared, his men following readily behind. He just hoped they would arrive in time.

SDIV El Juego Chapter 29 Part 1

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Broken Blade

Taartun Flagship

Unknown Location

“Are you sure this is the place, old woman?” asked Clari in disbelief.

The planet below them appeared little different from others they had visited, searching for the annoying little man. Shanna grinned a gap-toothed smile at her supposed relative and nodded, as she felt the thrill of power extinguished on their arrival. It was not Cornelius but something less pure, if Cornelius could ever have been called such a thing. There was a dirty feel to the transmitted energy which drew her like a moth to a flame, it seemed as though the dwarf had succeeded in his catalytic assignment.

“Ships detected,” shouted their Captain, as they closed range, “ with energy releases on the surface!”

“Now do you doubt me?” sneered Shanna as she hobbled towards the holo-screen by the Captain’s chair.

Clari reeled back as though she had been struck. It was not so much the words, nor the inherent disdain. No, it was the pulsing throat muscles and the nictitious membrane which reminded her that this Witch Woman was someone to respect.

“Will the Prophecy be fulfilled?” Clari asked humbly.

“Oh, that it will,” replied Shanna gleefully, and then in a voice only she could hear, “but which one my pretty? That is the real question.”

Clari shivered as Shanna’s evil cackle rang across the bridge.

“”Launch the boats,” snarled Shanna, all signs of age disappearing from her voice, “we have a world to win and destiny before us!”

The cheering of her Clansmen followed Clari as she left the Bridge. Quickly she found her men.

“Take our people on one of the boats. Make sure you find the thrice-damned Chosen One and bring him to me.”

They saluted and left at a run. Clari’s volatility was well known and no-one wanted to cross her. The only doubt was why she wanted to be the one to find the Chosen One and what she wanted with him. It was in neither of their places to ask or even know the answer to such a question. The Chosen One would know, and that was sure in their minds. Tradition and legend said it was so. The fact that neither they, or the rest of Clari’s people, had ever set eyes on Cornelius Butt before probably went a long way to explaining their blind faith. Reality would have a surprise from them before the day was over.

SDIV El Juego Chapter 28 Part 3

Ngulu the Broken revelled in despair and destruction, yet there were reasons to worry in the way that his demons failed to break through the strange winged and mutated forces they faced. No easy victory was in sight and the recent arrival of the small force from the Tower bolstered the beleaguered forces he faced. Something had changed.

Writhing forms on the battlefield drew his attention. Of the two obvious leaders, one stayed well back drawing a number of the winged soldiers back into a protective cordon. The other marched forward, stopping to examine and touch the mutilated corpses on the field, including those demons unlucky enough to fall in battle. What was he doing?

The figure was closer now; a strange mist trailed behind him and, as the wind direction changed, the stench of rotting corpses and putrefying flesh became stronger. Ngulu watched as the man stopped, waiting for what the demon knew not, and his anger at the figure’s effrontery drove him forward, smashing aside his minions. It was then he noticed that he could no longer see the man as corpses reanimated, interposing themselves between their new master and the rampaging demons.

Shan loved the powers he had been granted; an army was never far behind when his touch could create new life. He giggled at the thought; life was a rather poor way to describe the things following him. Even the residual power of the demons was not immune to his unhealthy touch and perhaps, just perhaps, these new troops of his could turn the table even on Viker.

“Such an obvious minion…” crooned Viker’s voice in his head and Shan screamed in pain as raw power blasted into him. Through his tears he saw Viker rise above the battlefield, black wings spread wide and lambent power radiating out from his eyes.

“You are but a vessel,” he continued conversationally, “and that is something you should never forget. Cease your tending of the wounded, I wish to speak with the demon’s leader.”

Shan could do little but obey, as pain wrenched his muscles once more into uncontrollable spasms. Even his creatures reacted, moaning and squealing in his transmitted agony.

Viker passed him by, floating to a gentle halt into the winged master of the demon hoard. Anger rippled out from the frothing monster as it still thrust others aside in its anxiety to reach him.

“Oh, dear,” he laughed, “such eagerness should be rewarded…”

His arms raised high, he began to gather in his power, reaching out to touch the very essence of Fold Space in his greed. Ngulu stopped, mouth open in awe as the figure before him began to glow. His weapon tip dropped to the floor, partially forgotten as his better readied himself for to dispense his own form of justice.

At what seemed the last moment, the brilliance of Viker’s power faded, releasing Ngulu who raised his stolen sword in a roar of rage and leaped forward, intent only on the destruction of the timorous individual before him. He too felt the fabric of space rip, yet his anger was far too strong to worry about details. Ngulu the Broken would kill; the consequences of his actions he would deal with later.

SD IV El Juego Chapter 28 Part 2

“What do you think they are up to?” asked Kam, as a group of men raced from the Tower, waving arms and wings urgently.

“I think that they are finally realising that what smells like honey, isn’t always necessarily honey…” answered Cornelius, squinting skyward.

“I never understand,” complained Kam, scuffing his boot toe in the earth.

Cornelius reached across and punched him gently in the arm. Kam looked up and smiled at his strange friend.

“What I mean,” said Cornelius, sighing theatrically, “is that the Tower may well not be the prize they think it is.”

He raised his hand to stop Kam interrupting and continued.

“It occurs to me that it is just as possible that the Tower was built to keep something in, rather than someone out,” he mused, “and that we were sent here to change that particular situation.”

Cornelius remembered Shanna and the torn parchment. He never did get to read the second part of the prophecy that had so conveniently been misplaced. The wrinkled crone hid many secrets, including that of her origin. The disturbing transformation witnessed in the first-class cabin of the Prelate’s Light was something else unexplained. Butt wondered how he managed to forget all these things and yet selectively remember others. A series of suspicions began to crawl into his fertile imagination and his sense of unease increase.

“You look worried?”

Kam’s statements were always like questions, trying for approval whilst expecting a blow.

“I am.” said Cornelius, staring again at the relatively cloud-free sky, “Something is coming, something bad and I don’t know what.”

The Clansman waved over toward the still battling forces on the plain before them, “whoever wins will no doubt remember about us in their own time.”

“Not them,” said Butt, shaking his head in negation, “someone else. I can feel it.”

“What about the Tower?” asked Kam, trying to lighten the mood.

“That, my friend,” replied Butt, “is why they are coming and the whole reason we are still sat here enjoying the view.”

Instead of being worried, Kam was smiling. Cornelius had called him a friend, and that was worth celebrating. Kam never had any friends, and even strange friends were welcome. Whatever happened he would stick with his friend, that was something were fighting for.

Cornelius stared for a moment at the grinning idiot beside him and then turned to face the Tower once more. The secret was in there, yet he was not yet ready to find out the answer. He knew deep down who was coming, he just had to figure out the why.

SDIV El Juego Chapter 28 Part 1

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The Tower

Cemetary Plain
Zone III

Light filtered down from above in thin streams where cracked roofs and uneven joints gave egress through the first two floors. Deeper, only darkness ruled. Shan used a glow globe to follow Viker down the uneven stairs to the ground floor, where dust puffed up mirroring their movements.

“Nothing,” coughed Viker, “there is absolutely nothing.”

Shan could have told him that, if only Viker had bothered to ask. Even with his own short-term stay on this planet, the Tower had been an obvious point to search. Granted, and for some strange reason, association with the similar structure on Diadem never entered his mind, so that his search had been desultory with zero expectation of reward. Now that he recognised the similarities there was a residual disappointment.

“What now, my Lord?” queried Shan, more than slightly refreshed with his visit to the village and sacrificial rites.

“We wait for the dwarf’s arrival, teach him a lesson and then be on our way,” said Viker.

“Do we have an urgent appointment anywhere in particular?” asked Shan, truly believing that his affected air came across as nonchalance.

“I certainly do,” confirmed Viker, “I still remain to be convinced that you do too…”

The comment startled Shan. What did Viker know? The rites were specifically designed to please his old Master, not this new one, and his followers were loyal to the last. He had after all created them himself.

Viker grinned, “Your show in the village was entertaining, although a little overdone even for my liberal tastes. I decided to allow you a little rope with which to hang yourself and am interested to see what you will do next.”

“But the power…” protested Shan, giving up any pretence of innocence.

“I gave you a little of my own,” said Viker, peering at the shabby murals decorating one of the walls, “it seemed a good thing to do at the time. Enough!”

Shan stumbled backwards as a bolt of pure energy lanced out from Viker’s open hand and struck the wall, punching a hole clear through the brick. Light streamed in showing the mural in more detail.

“That’s better,” mumbled Viker, bending to look closely at the various pictures.

“Similar,” he said, “but not the same.”

The drawing he indicated showed a winged figure kneeling before something or someone. It was hard to make out what, as the picture had been disfigured deliberately, but to one side had been scratched a half-moon shape with three separate and unknown runes.

“Kneeling to, or bending down?” queried Shan.

“What?” Viker’s voice was raised in anger and Shan gulped in expectation of a blow, “Explain…”

“I was thinking aloud,” shrugged Shan, realising he really had nothing to lose, “it could be either. The presence of our dwarf friend must have put the thought in my mind.”

Viker stared hard at the picture again, his lips moving as he appeared to read the runes.

“Out!” he screamed, racing for the stairs.

Shan followed, terrified by his Master’s reaction. What had he seen?

SDIV El Juego Chapter 27 Part 1

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cursed Hills
Zone IV

One by one Alana’s men fell. They gave their lives dearly, yet the outcome was inevitable; Viker’s Angels had regrouped, pulling all of their mutated followers in line and body by body, they were gaining the upper hand.

“Alana, it appears our guests decided to bring reinforcements.”

Shin’s message was unwelcome, but not unexpected. Viker meant to have his revenge and he would not shy from the death toll necessary to achieve his ends. She killed her latest opponent and used her jets to jump back, clearing her personal space for just a moment. On her HUD, the newcomers were more than apparent. It seemed as though Viker had used his power liberally, creating more of his winged followers who now he threw into the fray. Well, she had not expected to survive this encounter only to sell her life the most expensively that she could.

“Regroup,” she transmitted, “fall back on me…”

Winged shapes plummeted downwards into the rear of the Angels, claws tearing and rending, shocking Alana into silence.

“The demons,” Shin said on an open channel, “are they here to help?”

“That I think is unlikely,” replied Alana, at last seeing a potential chance of survival.

“Retreat!” she called urgently. “This is our opportunity.”

“But..” began Shin.

“Move it!” snarled Alana, blood lust was one thing, but stupidity another.

Discipline kicked in and the survivors, the pitiful few left from her original men and Johns’ people, disengaged. It was easier than expected as the Angels turned to meet this new attack, bestial ferocity against cunning and numbers. The few too slow to ascertain where the new threat came from gave Alana’s people something to assuage their unspent rage upon, but soon enough they were free and clear to reform upon her position.

Alana gasped in shock as she counted heads. She knew there must be more, but Shin confirmed her worst fears as he struggled up the hill towards her.

“I am the last,” he said matter-of-factly, “where do we go now?”

“Away from here,” said Alana, “somewhere to lick our wounds and plan our escape.”

“What about Viker?” asked the exhausted man, “When do we deal with him?”

Alana winced at the harsh tone in Shin’s voice. Was it condemnation of her own action in retreating? Or was it just exhaustion, grief and excess of adrenalin? She shrugged off her self-pity. There was little use for it now.

“There will be another day,” she promised, surprised at the certainty in her own voice, “we have not finished with him yet.”

Four armoured suits ignited their jet packs, hovering momentarily before shooting away towards the forest in the distance. Ngulu watched them, but chose to ignore their escape for now. Spilt blood drew him to the fight  below and this promised to give him and his brethren a feasting to remember. It seemed as though the world and order in itself had returned to its rightful place, with him as its leader.

SDIV El Juego Chapter 26 Part 1

Chapter Twenty-Six

Cemetary Plain
Zone III

Viker studied the Tower from distance and shuddered in remembrance. It was an exact copy of that on Diadem, where he had saved Marius, been reborn and pledged his undying friendship to Walters. He wondered whether deep beneath the Tower remained a waiting power source. There had been no sign of the winged guardian or her followers left to protect the Tower’s treasure on Diadem. He giggled insanely to himself; it had not worked there either.

What allegiance he had once owed or sworn to Walters and his kind were long gone. If there were any need for reminders, his reaction to Johns and Alana would surely underline them. There was something different about the spire though,  its top was open with petals of metal stretched wide. Anger flared briefly at the profanation of others to such a sacred place and then he laughed once more. After all, he meant to dismantle it stone by stone and rob that which was hopefully still inside.

Another stared long and hard at the Tower. Deep within his mind hung a small voice which called out the need to protect the structure. A pressure built within Cornelius’ fevered brain, pushing its way to the fore with love and urgency.

“…and then there will come to pass the birth of a mighty hero, steel-thewed and pure of heart, he will hearken to the call of the righteous. Tall, clean-limbed, of the greatest line of Taartun heroes, will he be. When the Egg, the Hero and the Blade are united, will our foes tremble.

Shattered earth and broken bones will litter the Tower. The Beast will be called forth at last, to do battle with the Taartun Hero and the …….”

Cornelius’ Vision blurred and Ngulu screamed in pain as a pureness of thought overtook his Master. Clari returned, pushing all apathy aside and severing the link between man and demon. It was wrong, unhealthy and unworthy of a true Taartun.

Thrashing in an uncontrolled dive they struck the ground, man and demon enmeshed in different  types of pain. Ngulu the Broken wrenched free of his chains, turning to snarl at the small man before him. Now he saw the thing for what it was; puny body, strange hair and burnt visage. This was not its Master. Ngulu felt the tug, the promise from the thing by the Tower but he refused to fall under its spell either. He was free now and would remain so. First things first, he would feed on this pitiful thing which had tricked him into believing it worthy.

Clawed hands reached forward and then recoiled in pain. Ngulu hissed and tried again. Cornelius now stood fully upright, staring into the demon’s face.

“Bad choice, baby,” he muttered, pulling Dunch and Bingle free from his belt, their wicked blades now glinting with bright red flame.

“For a while there we were a little lost, but not anymore.” Butt grinned his feral grin, something that was lost on the demon.

“I fear you not,” rumbled Ngulu, “you are small and weak without your little pet.”

The demon’s true nature showed and he hunched his shoulders ready to strike at the impudent creature before him.

“Us, lost?” replied Cornelius. “I think not.”

The dragon tattoo on his face began to writhe, growing to cover his shoulders and back.  A resounding crack! was heard from the Tower and the main spiral broke in two, just below where the Ori had placed their missiles, littering the earth below.

Ngulu snatched a glance towards the Tower then leapt to the air with two beats of his mighty wings.

“You have not heard the last of this,” he screamed as he arrowed towards the battle in the hills nearby, “I will be back…”

“Do bring some friends next time,” shouted Butt, “it just won’t be the same party without them.”

His smile faded as he turned to face the Tower, the stink of Viker’s presence pervading the atmosphere.

“Well Luv,” he crooned to himself as he began his march, “it seems the Old Hag was right after all.”

No-one answered him. How could she, Clari was dead. To Cornelius though, that did not really matter, she was the Egg, he once more the Hero and he held not one, but two Blades in his own hands.

“Cornelius,” a voice wailed and he looked back to see a strange figure rise from the grass. The checked cloth was faded, the trousers torn and face bloodied, but perhaps he, Cornelius Butt, was not the Taartun Hero after all.

“I couldn’t leave,” gasped the man as he staggered to a halt by his friend.

“Kam, thank’s for coming,” said Cornelius, “I always needed someone along to make me look good.”

The smile on his face took the sting out of his words, and together they turned and walked towards the Tower.

SDIV El Juego Chapter 24 Part 2

Flagship

Unknown Location

The sound and taste of the voice on the communicator caused Shan to smile. It was one of his own at last. Now he could truly remake this world into a more fitting vessel filled with pain, lust, disease and depravation. He reached for the transmit button, intending to hail his new friends when Fold Space shuddered once more.

One vessel had entered the system first, a quite prepossessing ship with raked wings attached to a sleek body, giving it an almost ethereal beauty. If not for the dark power emanating from within it, Shan could have been confused as to its purpose. Now others came, burping from Fold Space, ungainly parodies of their obvious leader. Some braked to surround their Master whilst others continued on towards the planet itself. They had obviously not detected him.

“I know you are there,” a voice whispered in his head, its sickly touch a welcome relief from the monotony of solitude, “and you would be wise to show yourself.”

Shan struggled against the compulsion, shivering with pleasure at the corruption he felt there. This, however, was not the first time he had felt such a touch and he resisted.

“Ah,” said the voice again, “one more suited to my tastes, and with at least a modicum of will. This I like, yet it would not do for you to test my patience any further.”

“I resist, my Lord,” replied Shan, “your command only to preserve the integrity of my vessel. If I drop the shields now, I leave myself open to attack from the planet below and would then be of no use to you.”

“Attack from Alana and her pitiful few…?” The question was cold and direct, disdainful in tone and promising pain for such cowardice.

“I know of no such Alana,” replied Shan, “I speak of the dwarf and his demonic steed. They have already caused me trouble and need to be eliminated.”

“You dare tell me what I should do?” the voice roared in his mind, driving Shan to his knees.

“No, my Lord,” gasped Shan in pain, “I only meant to advise you of their threat…”

“Show me…” hissed the voice, “and we can talk of your presumption later…”

To open his mind fully was to admit defeat, and perhaps even servitude, but Shan saw no other option. Gingerly he ceased his struggle and allowed his new Master to enter his thoughts.

*

On his own ship, Viker cackled with glee, causing his minions to scurry out of his way. Here, perhaps, he had found one of like mind who could be bound to his service. As he trawled through the sewer that was Shan’s existence he pursed his lips in anticipation. There was the touch of another here, one similar to him yet of lesser power. He easily snapped the tenuous bond linking Shan to his old Master, and continued his search.

Ah, there it was, indeed a foe which might entertain him for a while. Alana and her defiance could wait, his troops could deal with her and in her destruction he would weed out the reckless and incompetent. This miniscule man in his ridiculous costume would provide him with the means of flexing his own muscles. Who knew, he might even prove worthy to serve as a minion.

Disconnecting from Shan, Viker ordered his craft to the planet. It was time to see exactly what this creature could do. Afterwards he had others to deal with, and find, if Shan’s cesspool of a mind was anything to go by.

By his side stood two of his Angels, their wings now black as night. It was difficult to say whether they had become more like Viker or he them. His once pristine feathers were now black and mottled with reddish stains. The proud visage had become hooded, his eyes pools of blackness which reflected no light. He wore no boots, as none would fit the clawed appendages he once called feet. These too were mottled and stained with red.

“Food,” he roared, “bring me sustenance!”

There was a scuffle, the sound of a blow and then a whimpering cry as one of his Angels brought his repast. Viker grinned evilly as the young woman was dragged before him. He would satiate his hunger and use her as an aperitif for the main meal to come. One hand lashed out, claws hooking into flesh as he drew her towards him. There was no time for toying with his meal, so he ended her life with a quick slash of his free hand, opening her throat to his eager fangs. 

SDIV El Juego Chapter 24 Part 1

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cursed Hills
Zone IV

“Incoming!”

The voice reverberated through Johns’ helmet, transmitting both disbelief and panic. On his HUD he could see the demons retreating, and Alana’s new allies following. The sparkle of their rifle fire was visible through the magnification of his visor, yet they were also receding as his and Alana’s men regrouped. What did she mean…shit!

Now he saw the pinpoints of approaching light, and their designation scrolled down the right-hand side of his screen.

“Cover!” he roared, scanning the area for any handy defile. There was nothing.

“Here!” The voice was Alana’s. He saw her and the main body of his men move under jet flares towards a nearby hill. The dark circle in the lower part of the stoned valley ahead should be a cave. Grinning in triumph he punched his jets and received nothing in reply. He tried again. Nothing.

“Alana?” his voice was calm, gentle in resignation and only on the Command channel.

“Johns?” she replied, a tremor in her voice.

“Get our people under cover,” he said quietly, “It’s up to you now.”

“What the…?”

“Listen to me, Alana,” he continued, his words steady and sure, “my jets are screwed and there is no way I’m going to make it in time.”

“”Two of us will come back for you,” she tried, but there was resignation in her voice.

“You and I both know that would only make two more deaths,” he said, “your job is to get our people into the cave and save them. Find whoever caused this and give them a little message from me.”

Her laugh was brittle and forced.

“Sure, Old Man,” she quipped, “something short and pointed, I think.”

“Get going,” his voice began to waver and he cleared his throat with a mock cough, “let me have some time to find peace with myself, and the man I wronged.”

She understood. They had chosen Viker over their true Lord, and now Johns wanted to right at least that wrong.

“See you on the other side,” she whispered as she closed on the canyon, “I’ll say one for you too.”

Johns watched until the jet flares disappeared before turning to gaze up at the oncoming missiles. They were close now, their engines flaring brightly. None would hit close enough to kill him directly, but they did not need to. His armour was good, just not good enough. He knelt, bowing his head and opening his arms wide as he prayed to his Master.

In the cave, Alana prayed in silent communion with her small band of followers. They asked for forgiveness, hope and strength. The darkness of their eyes changed, a green spark fanning to a flame as they felt the return of their faith. Out on his own, Johns felt more, his lips snarling in recognition of that which he had lost. He shed his gauntlets and flexed fingers that had for too long been encased by loss and disappointment.

As the first missile struck the hillside he thought he felt a response, a touch from far away which returned his unconditional love. With this caress, his shoulders hunched, nails curling into claws and his eyes blazed with lambent flame.

The air near him shimmered as an errant portal opened and he ripped free his helmet sniffing the air from within. He quailed as the stench of rot pervaded his nostrils, then snarled his defiance as the second missile struck. The resulting blast wave picked him up and hurled him forward, straight through the portal and into unconsciousness.

*

The missiles struck the hill in quick succession, pounding the area last inhabited by Alana and her men. Rock was blasted into dust and the earth shook from the tremendous impacts. When all was quiet again, there remained a single huge crater gouged laterally from the neighbouring hillside and sole stand of rock untouched by the firey destruction. From within its safety walked Alana and her men, dropping to their knees in thanksgiving. It had been a miracle and they knew to who they owed their thanks. Never would they again forget.

As she rose to her feet, Alana initiated her communicator, fruitlessly scanning for Johns amidst the chaotic landscape below. She expected and received no sign of his presence.

Just as she turned to order her men to their feet, her communicator crackled to life and a familiar voice boomed in her ears.

“Alana, my pet, did you miss me…?”

Hers eyes blazed her defiance as she looked skyward, searching the heavens for her enemy. She felt the touch of his mind, but he recoiled as if burnt.

“How?” he asked, caution and fear seasoning his overconfidence.

“Johns showed us the way,” she replied, her armoured wings flicked out from her suit, mirroring the call to battle she felt surging in her blood, “and we stand in the stead of our true Lord. Come look for us at your peril…”