Rise (War Witch Book 1) (66 page)

Falling behind her, Rakin and Vernit tried to cover her sides, but found the great sweeps of her massive sword needed no help. Nodding, they grabbed Fallows and spun around, relieving Toms and Wells for a moment, giving them a chance to catch their breath.

Still, there were too many. Ramora grimaced as she saw more charging. No way could she hold them all back. She needed a new battle plan, and fast. They were caught in the middle of the wall, with no room to retreat, however, leaving her with no option but to fight on, and pray they could overcome.

Across the wall, Leto's Sunspear clashed with Renfro's Netherspear, the Dark Blessed forced to fall back a step under the onslaught of the Blessed of Grannax. Doppelgangers moved to aid him, but he waved them back.

"I've already taken five Blessed heads today, plus that of an Ascended," he declared with pride. "I need no help dispatching this mere boy."

"You've what?” Leto roared, coming at him with a massive sweep that nearly took the Dark Blessed's head. "An Ascended? How dare you? This blasphemy will not go unpunished!"

"I dare whatever I wish," Renfro snarled. "I'm a servant of the rightful Gods! I'm the conqueror of Lansing! The Slayer of Ascended! The Bane of Heaven's Agents! I'm nigh on to a God myself! When Ker Zet walks this world once more, I will be elevated to her right hand!"

"You're a fool!" Leto bellowed, charging the Dark Blessed, his Divine weapon jabbing, clashing with the Demonic blade, the energies howling at each other.

Finding himself on the defensive, Renfro bobbed to the side. He avoided the next swing entirely and let Leto's Sunspear carve through the rock of the battlement, sending it tumbling away. Spinning, the servant of Hell brought his own weapon to bear, swinging it down for Leto's head.

Pushing back, the Blessed of Grannax caught his attack and forced it down and inward, pinning the foul weapon to the battlement, where the two spears hissed and snarled. Tugging against the bigger man’s strength, Renfro found himself held fast, unable to avoid the fist Leto swung at him, sending the Dark Blessed staggering.

Letting him fall away, Leto moved to close, only to have Renfro charge him, Netherspear humming, forcing him to deflect it as he hopped back. The smaller man was fast, more than he'd expected. Then he remembered what Izra had said, that he was a sorcerer, and able to enchant himself for speed.

Scowling, Leto fell back with each attack of the Dark Blessed, luring him in, baiting him with false openings, looking for a chance to strike. Their mystical weapons clashed again and again, howling, snarling, showering them with energies both Divine and Demonic as Leto was pushed farther back along the wall, farther back from Ramora and his allies.

Renfro was too fast, he found, to get a clear attack on, making the Blessed of Grannax fall back on his guerrilla tactics. As they thrust and parried, he stepped back, forcing the Dark Blessed to overreach, allowing him to push the Netherspear down, flicking his own weapon back up, drawing blood across the man’s cheek.

"Bastard," Renfro snarled. "How dare you sully me with that heretic’s blade!"

As he'd hoped, the Dark Blessed overreacted, his anger making him clumsy, sloppy, sending him forward without a thought. Spinning his Sunspear up between them, he captured Renfro's Netherspear, and grabbed a fistful of his jacket. He whirled the man into the battlements, drawing a grunt of pain from him. Leaning into his weapon, Leto forced both blades closer to the Dark Blessed's throat.

"You can't win," Renfro growled, pushing back. "Surely you must see that."

"All I see," Leto snapped. "Is how I'm going to send your head back to Draco in a box."

To his surprise, his opponent laughed. "Draco? You think he’s the mastermind here? You fools, you don't even see what's really happening. Draco is but a pawn, to be used and discarded when his role is done. My true Mistress, Lillianna, will drench this world in the dark glory of the Gods of Hell! You can't stop her, either!"

Leto grunted as Renfro finally pushed him back, his mind whirling. Draco wasn't the true enemy? A pawn? Desperate, he realized Ramora needed to hear this, as did the true Untar, should he still live. He had to tell them all. Lillianna. She was the threat.

Renfro came at him with a fury, forcing him back until he found the battlements blocked him going any further. With their weapons crossing in a wild howl of energy, he hopped up, skipping away from the Dark Blessed along the top of the stone work, forcing Renfro to pursue as he searched for a better position.

Jumping down just as the Netherspear severed stone, Leto dove into the cover of a parapet, glancing up at the ladder that led to the arbalest. If he could finish Renfro here, he could turn the weapon on the Demon Seed and aid his friends.

Spinning back, he blocked Renfro's assault on his back, but was forced to scurry back as the Demon sorcerer enchanted himself with strength, his next blow sending the Blessed of Grannax sprawling across the wall, out of the parapet.

Stalking him, Renfro grinned. "Look behind you, heretic, and behold the death of your hope."

Pushing himself up, Leto glanced back and saw it with a gasp. He was out of time. Somehow, he had to slay Renfro now. Hefting the Sunspear, he faced his foe with determination.

Far back along the wall, Ramora's arm ached from the heavy swings, the pile of bodies around her making the stone treacherous and slick with blood. She was panting from the exertion, and still, the Doppelgangers came at her, more climbing the walls to leap at her. At her back, Rills' squad fought with valor, but they too were weakening. Soon, she knew, they were going to be overwhelmed if she didn't figure something out.

"Ramora!” Rills yelled. "We've got a new problem!"

Like she didn't have enough already. She shut that thought down, focusing on the battle, and pushed back until she felt one of Rills’ soldiers at her back. Swinging the sword wide, she sent Demon Seed scattering, giving her half a second to breathe.

"You probably need to see this," Rills bellowed. "I think it's kind of important!”

Annoyed, she glanced back over her shoulder. Her eyes widened in shock at what she saw. Somehow, things really had gotten worse. A lot worse.

Coming in over the ocean, headed straight for the city, was the ultimate in Demon Seed artillery. The most devastating weapon the armies of Hell had at their disposal. Massive, unassailable, armed with hundreds of cannons stolen from other worlds in the Shadow Realms.

A flying citadel.

FROM THE HIDDEN PASSAGE,
Untar led Leena, Chara and Esteban into the throne hall, the great room empty and silent. The small group paused, scanning the chamber for any sign of enemies, but found nothing.

"There, behind the throne," he said, pointing.

The throne itself was a simple chair sitting in the back of the long, wide room. Behind it, though, was something much more impressive. As wide as the throne hall and a good ten feet high, a single slab of onyx upon which runic writing had been inscribed.

"According to legend," Untar said. "The runes are capable of defending the city should we face an enemy greater than we can defeat."

"Then we should use it," Esteban encouraged. "Quickly."

Untar shrugged slightly. "If only I knew how. I don't even know what it says. The best and brightest my family has brought in have never been able to sort it out."

Frustrated, Esteban growled. "Then why waste our time here?"

Untar cut a discreet look towards Chara. "I'm hoping our helpful young friend might be brighter than those who've come before her. We don't have long, however, I suspect."

"I will check," Leena offered, hurrying across the room to the massive doors that allowed entrance to the chamber.

"Well, Chara?" the King asked. "See anything familiar?"

"Actually, I do," she said slowly. "I've seen this before."

Esteban cocked his ears back in surprise. "When?"

"At your father’s keep," she said, grabbing the throne and pushing it aside so she could look at it better. "It's a little different, but basically the same as something he had in his armory."

"Can you activate it?" Untar implored.

Chara cringed a little. "I don't know. I never finished deciphering it, and what I'd gotten was just nonsense."

"Damn," Untar sighed. "I'd hoped."

"We should leave," Esteban suggested.

"Sire," Leena called, voice low. "There are soldiers coming."

"Back to the passage," the King ordered. "We can't afford to get caught."

"Wait," Chara said as she dug in her satchel, pulling out the book she'd taken from Imicot's library and her notepad. "If this will help us, we have to sort it out. Give me some time."

"Beloved," Esteban urged. "We haven't got time. It's useless. It likely means nothing, some ego-driven relic from the days sorcerers ruled the city."

"Maybe," Chara nodded. "But there was a weapon with the tablet I saw at your father’s. If this is connected to the same thing, it may give us what we need."

"It's pointless," he pleaded. "We must flee while we can."

"I've got to try," she told him. "Ramora would try."

"You aren't Ramora," he told her.

She nodded slowly. "Believe me, I know."

Seeing she wasn't going to move, Esteban sighed heavily, and looked to the King and his assassin. Glancing to one another, they nodded. They would hold off the enemy as long as they could. They would at least try to buy Chara the time she needed.

Falling cross-legged onto the floor, Chara laid the book out in front of her, flipping through her notes until she found the right page and began again trying to decipher the runic text. Behind her, her companions took up defensive positions.

A few moments later, the doors of the throne room eased open, a guard seeing them. "Here! I've found them!"

"Guess this is where I find out if I'm still good with a sword," Untar muttered.

"Try not to die," Leena replied, readying her weapons. "It would look bad on me."

"Good to see you've got things in perspective," he groused.

"Always do," she told him with a grin.

Soldiers rushed them, a dozen to their three.

As the sound of battle being joined rang from behind her, Chara tried to block it out, to shut down everything she was feeling, her fears and doubts, focusing on the great onyx tablet before her. If Ramora still lived, and she prayed the warrior did, this was the means to saving not just her, but all of Lansing. She had to get this right.

Esteban's wide, powerful sweeps with the poleaxe ended three lives in a moment, leaving him free to dash to Untar's aide. On the King’s other side, Leena danced between their sword thrusts, her savage daggers ending their lives before they knew what'd happened. Untar alone struggled, his long absence from a sword making him uncertain.

If only he could call on his Divine Gift, he could really fight them. He shoved down the ache in his soul at the absence of Riari, his friend since the day Grannax had touched him. She'd always been there for him, always had time to listen, and offer advice. She'd been more than his connection to Grannax, the conduit through which his Divine gift flowed. She'd been his most ardent friend, and he felt a piece of himself was missing.

Without her, he was but a man and not one very skilled at combat with a blade. Without her, he couldn’t hold back this attack. Without her, he didn't know if he could do anything at all.

More soldiers burst into the room, charging the trio, shouting as they brandished their weapons. Fearful, they held their ground and fought back as best they could. It wasn't going to be enough, and they all knew it.

Chara scowled at all the noise that kept cluttering her thoughts. So much racket made it hard to think. Couldn't evil have the decency to just be quiet for a damn minute? Was that asking so much?

She realized the absurdity of her thoughts, but ignored it for the moment. Her scribbled notes still made no sense. She clutched the piece of cloth-wrapped charcoal in her hand as she tried to sort it out, looking for some kind of a key that would reveal the cipher to the writing.

There had to be one. It was the only thing that made sense. The runes could be directly translated, but they were gibberish, so it had to be coded, and there had to be a key to unlocking it. She just couldn't figure out what it was. The screaming, clashing, and yelling wasn't helping.

"For the love of all the Gods," she muttered, pushing herself up, drawing her mystic weapons.

Stalking towards her three companions, she leveled the guns and started firing, blasting soldiers to ash with a rapid fire staccato of heavy whupping, clearing the room of enemies in a moment. Reaching the trio, she kept up the assault, hammering the doors until they shattered, burning away anyone in the hall.

"I asked for quiet," she snapped. "Now, keep it quiet."

"Sorry," Esteban murmured.

"Apologies," Untar mumbled.

"Wow," Leena whistled.

Giving the assassin an annoyed look, Chara turned and stalked back to her notes, growling, "Men. Always need a woman to save them."

"Leena's a woman," Esteban offered.

Untar rested a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. "Let's just try to fight for our lives a little quieter."

"Yeah, okay," Esteban groused.

"Didn't have to blow the doors off," the King grumbled.

"Shut up!" Chara roared. "I'm thinking over here!"

"Never did like them that much anyway," he added quickly, as more soldiers regrouped in the hall.

"Seriously, she should consider a life as an assassin," Leena told Esteban.

The Cat sighed heavily and lifted his weapon. "I find myself curious why the King of Lansing has need of one."

"Don't be silly," Untar told him. "She's not my assassin, she's my bodyguard. With her, I only need the one."

"Today, I failed in those duties," Leena offered with a note of regret. "I will accept whatever punishment you and the Sisters deem worthy."

Untar gripped his sword as the soldiers in the hall advanced. "Today, my dear, we've all failed. Punishment is the least of my worries."