Rise (War Witch Book 1) (68 page)

"Come on!" Untar yelled, making for the gate.

Beyond, he could raise the alarm, letting the entire City Guard know they were under attack. With them rallying, the rest of the Demon Seed would be easy to defeat, overwhelmed by the full might of Lansing.

As he charged through, a shadow fell, drawing his gaze up to the flying citadel closing in on them. Through the city, he heard the alarm being raised, the heavy bells of the temples ringing loudly. It was too late, though, and he knew it. Nothing could stand against such a leviathan as what descended on them now.

Chara led Esteban and Leena to his side, staring up in horror as soldiers began clamoring from their posts, racing for the castle. The citadel loomed ever larger as it bore down, crossing over the outer most reaches of the docks. Doom, for all to see, and tremble before.

"Now what do we do?" Esteban asked.

"Keep fighting," Chara snapped.

"Against that?" he cried, waving a hand at the sky. "How?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off as Shana screamed. Jerking towards the Ascended, Chara watched her stagger and fall to her knees. Fearful a Demon Seed had gotten a lucky strike in, she raced back to her, firing on the Doppelgangers that closed on the demigoddess.

"Shana!" she called as she slid to a stop by her side. "Get up!"

"I can't," she whimpered. "He's gone. I can't feel him. I can't feel Leto."

Horror bolted through her heart as she heard the others gasp. It couldn't be. Not him, too. Not Leto. Pushing down the hopeless feeling that welled in her, and the tears that threatened, Chara hammered the Demon Seed with mystic fire, holding them back.

Above them, the parapets exploded into the sky, raining debris down, great stones shattering on the street and in the courtyard. Turning upwards, Chara saw massive steel domes slowly inching upward, and realized this is what she'd unleashed.

She could only hope it was enough.

"Chara," Esteban roared. "It's dangerous here! We have to flee!"

"Not a chance," she snarled. "Shana, get up!"

She shook her head, crying horribly, her body shaking. "I can't. I can't. I can't."

"Shana, get up, dammit!" the young woman roared, the Demon Seed beginning to crowd them. "I can't hold them back much longer!"

Untar and Leena were there in a flash, weapons clearing those who sought to flank. Esteban swung past them, poleaxe sweeping. He left an arc of blood as the monsters fell to his blade. Hoping, praying they had bought her room, Chara dropped to a knee, grabbing the Ascended.

"Come on. We need you!" she pleaded.

"I can't," Shana repeated, body wracked with sobs.

"Please, Shana, we have to fight!”

"I can't."

"Get up!"

"I can't."

"Fight back!"

"I can't."

"Don't let him die for nothing!"

"I... I..."

"You still have another Blessed, right in front of you, who needs you! Now, GET UP!"

"I... Untar... "

"SHANA! FIGHT DAMMIT!"

Slowly, the Ascended rose.

"WE WON'T FALL HERE! NOT TO THEM!"

"I... I can..."

"STAND UP AND FIGHT!"

Divine energy washed out from her hand as she snarled in righteous fury.
"DIE!"

Chara fell back from her, staggered by the rage the Ascended unleashed. Turning, she saw the flying citadel begin to slow. The steel domes were almost in position. Whatever they were, she could only hope they would be enough.

Then she saw it. Atop the wall, Ramora battled the Dark Blessed.

"Ramora," she whispered. "Stay with me. Please."

Leto fell.

Ramora couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. Leto was falling. It couldn't be. Not him. Not today.

Distantly, she could hear Rills screaming as he hurled himself at the Demon Seed. It was miles away, the sound of his valiant squad charging the Doppelgangers. All she could see was Leto tumbling over the edge of the wall. She felt as if her heart was falling with him.

Why? Why today? Why him? Why all of them? Why Tanna? Rick? Sabra? Bit? Flick? Why did they have to fall today? Why did Draco have to do this, on this day, of all days?

"Ramora!" Rills shouted. "Get up, dammit!"

She hadn't even realized she'd fallen to her knees. Slowly, she raised her eyes, her vision blurring as the tears came. The citadel filled the horizon as it slowed. Everything was lost. She could do no more.

"Please, Ramora!" the Lieutenant pleaded. "Get up! We need you!”

Rumbling steel domes rose into view, ratcheting into position with painful slowness as she shook her head. She couldn't do it anymore. Life was too much pain. The attachments she'd made, stolen from her one by one, they ripped at her soul, stealing her will to even stand.

"We can't take him on our own!" Rills screamed. "Get him!"

Stand up
, her Rabbit sang. Calling her by her true name, it demanded she rise, and fight. Woeful though it was, it sang to her.

Planting her sword, Ramora levered herself up, asking her Avatar if had enough to give her one spell.

It whispered a tune of promise that it would.
Cast the spell, the energy will be there.

Aching in her body, heart, and soul, Ramora wove the runes for lightness and strength. She felt her little Rabbit tear off its own leg, converting it to mystic energy, as it sang its adoration of her while its chi bled all over her soul.

Ramora jumped.

Rills watched her fly across the courtyard, bearing for Renfro. Past the pain he felt, he smiled. The bastard would pay. He believed that. That Demon-loving bastard would pay.

"Come on!" he shouted to his squad. "A Blessed of Ramor needs us to fight on, to be strong! Are we going to tell the Wolf of War that this is all we have? That we can give no more? Or are we going to stand by His chosen champion? Are we going to make Him howl our names with pride?"

Grim though they were, battered, worn, and weary, they nodded and tightened their grip on their blood-stained blades. In their eyes, he saw his answer.

"CHARGE!"

In the citadel, Sky Commander Maret watched the city of Lansing come into view. The Orc had waited his entire career for this moment, to stand on the verge of history. From his position in the center of the command room, he would be the one who delivered the city into the hands of his masters, the Demon Gods.

"Status," he barked.

"Closing to five miles of the castle," the Goblin at the helm replied, adjusting the speed of the citadel carefully with the mystic runes glowing in front of him.

"Excellent," Maret grinned. "Today is a glorious day. For Lord Draco, we will claim this city, and fly his flag from the top of the castle. Bring us to a halt over the docks, and stand ready to deploy troops in support of Renfro and his Doppelgangers."

"Uh, sir?" an Orc offered up. "You might want to see this."

"What is it?" Maret asked, already annoyed.

The Orc moved the mystic projection in front of the Sky Commander. Renfro, fighting a Blessed of Grannax. Scowling, he wondered why the damn fool hadn't finished them all at once like he was supposed to. There wasn't meant to be any resistance left at this point.

"What should we do?" the Orc asked.

"Wait a moment," Maret replied. "Hold course, stand by to come to a full stop."

"Yes, sir!" his command crew replied sharply.

Chaos and disorder may be the way of things for ground troops, but aboard a flying citadel, absolute respect for the chain of command was required. Only the most talented and worthy were granted a position aboard the great weapons. It was a place of distinction, a reward for having served the Lords of Hell well.

As the Commander watched, Renfro dispatched the fool of a Blessed. Smiling, he nodded. That would take care of that.

"Sir?" the Orc officer said again, his voice laced with worry he would get lashed for bringing more things of concern to the Commander's attention.

"What now?"

The image shifted, sowing massive steel domes slowly rising from the castle as the parapets fell. Maret scowled, not sure what they were, but sensing they would not be welcoming.

"How long till we're in position?" he asked.

"One minute," the Goblin replied.

As he watched, another Blessed rose, hurling herself across the gap of the courtyard. A spellcaster, was it? Renfro was on his own against her, then. All the better for Maret, as the glory would be his when the city fell.

"Coming to a full stop," the Goblin called.

Around the command deck, other officers acknowledged his full stop. The citadel shuddered slightly as it came to hover over the docks.

"Lieutenant," Maret said slowly. "Order all cannon ports opened, and all fire crews on station. Prepare to spin the citadel. We're going to bombard the city."

"Yes, sir!" the Hob-Goblin behind him yelped. He shouted the orders down the pipes lined in front of him.

"Blessed," Maret groaned. "What pests."

Ramora descended with her sword over her shoulder, hitting the stone of the battlement walkway, already swinging. Renfro yelped, diving away as her Heavensteel blade bit through stone, carving the battlement apart as she sent the weapon in pursuit of him.

Stone tumbled as the Dark Blessed called on his Gift, the Netherspear forming in his hand just in time to block the Blessed's next attack. The strength behind it still overwhelmed him, sending him skidding across the top of the wall to slam into the battlement on the far side.

"Stupid witch," he grunted. "What do you think you can do against me?"

Ramora glared, hate burning strong in her eyes as she threw herself at him, sword whipping up in front of her. Renfro blocked it easily, too late realizing the attack hadn't been intended to land when her fist came over the clashing blades and shattered his nose. Staggered, he tried to backpedal from her as she flipped her weapon back up, sending him sprawling as it raked along his Netherspear.

His vision dancing, the Dark Blessed pushed himself back to his knees as she came at him, sword thrusting. Jerking his Demonic weapon up, her blade slid along his, showing him with sparks as it tore a gouge in the stone of the battlements, missing him by less than an inch.

Shaken, he felt fear begin to bloom as he saw nothing but rage in her eyes. Nothing save the burning need to kill him. Letting go with one hand, she shoved the hilt forward, her sword pivoting along his weapon to strike him in the face again.

Swinging the lower blade up, he tried to slice her in half, only to find her shoving down, blocking his attack, her sword still crossed with his Netherspear, driving the tip of his Demonic weapon into the stone. Stunned, he could do nothing but watch as she snapped her head forward, abusing his already broken nose further.

Renfro fell to his back, screaming in pain. A Blessed of Ramor. She could see his every attack. He would have to rely on his spells to deal with her. Tugging his weapon across his chest, he caught the tip of her sword and held it back as runic words began to flow over his lips.

Ramora pushed down, levering herself up as she kicked off, spinning on her sword to drive her foot against his mouth. Renfro felt blood flow as he bit his tongue, the spell lost. Wailing in pain, he rolled, throwing her off him.