After the Fall (3 page)

He didn’t have time to celebrate. A figure moved beyond the window he was defending and a blazing sword struck the wall outside. Stone hissed and sizzled, the blade cutting into the wall like an oxy-acetylene torch. He sent a burst of fire out to where he guessed the head might be but the stone was already starting to crumble around the window frame, and the sword strokes became more frenzied as the attacker pressed harder.

Chalmers fired volley after volley through the doorway. He saw Rogers looking at him.

“Virtual reality,” the man said. “ I told you Sarge, this is all just a game. We can’t die here. But we
can
have some fun.”

He started to move closer to the door.

“Chalmers. Get back here. That’s an order.”

The man looked over his shoulder and smiled.

“See you back in the real world Sarge.”

He marched towards the door.

“Come and get it,” he shouted.

A piece of stone the size of Rogers’ head fell from above the window frame and Rogers was forced to turn back to the defense.  Someone… it sounded like McLeod, screamed in pain, but Rogers couldn’t afford to look around. He took a grenade from his belt.

“Fire in the hold,” he shouted, and dropped the cannister out the window. This time he was ready for the blast, but even then the concussion almost sent him down into the darkness of unconsciousness.

His ears rang as if someone in his head was banging on a gong. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard the
thwup
and
flutter
as the demons took flight.

Then everything went quiet once more.

~-o0O0o-~

Rogers checked out his window. There was no sign of movement, either in the vicinity of the building, or further out along the ridge. Only then did he feel safe in checking on his squad. McLeod’s face showed a long burn that ran from the side of his left eye all the way to the point of his chin, but he managed a smile and gave a
thumbs-up
when he saw Rogers looking.

Sammy Brown was getting up off the floor by his window. He looked groggy, but otherwise uninjured.

Chalmers hadn’t been so fortunate. His body lay spread-eagled over the top of the demons in the doorway, his facial features lost beyond recognition – charred and blackened. Rogers hadn’t seen it happen, but he could imagine it – a stroke of a blazing sword would be more than capable of the damage he saw.

He had the others help him clear the doorway.

They left the bodies, demon and man alike, outside where they had found three more of the winged figures lying dead around the building.

“We can’t just leave Chalmers like this,” McLeod said, but Rogers waved hin away.

“Time enough for ceremony and mourning later – if we make it.”

Sammy Brown stood looking at the bodies, then up at the valley rim.

“We need to get out of here Sarge. This is just a killing field. We need to get back to the Hummer – back to reality.”

“And which reality might that be?” a voice said behind them.

The angel stood in the ruin of the doorway, bent over to avoid the lintel, the wings folded behind him and giving the impression of a hunch. Gold eyes shone from a face as smooth as old ivory, the white broken only by the darker area of bruising and dried blood around his wound. He looked almost too frail to be standing, and had to hold onto the doorjamb for support.

He looked Rogers in the eye, and Rogers felt suddenly calm, as if he’d just learned that all was right with the world, and always would be. He had to drag his eyes away. He couldn’t afford to feel that way – not in the middle of a battle.

“Thank you,” the angel said. “You have kept it secure. For now at least.”

McLeod stepped forward and looked up into the angel’s eyes.

“Is this some more shit about guarding the pit to stop the Devil getting out? I’m telling you now, that’s getting right on my tits.
You
brought us here, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” the angel said. “After I was injured Murmus pressed his attack and I knew I could not repel him without help. And you were in the area, and
right minded
. I am sorry that it came to this, but I had no choice.”

“In the area --
right minded?
What the hell does that mean?”  McLeod was getting angry. “
Where
exactly are we?”

The angel smiled.

“You are here. Where else?”

McLeod raised his weapon.

“I’ve had enough of this crap…”

Rogers stepped forward and put his hand on McLeod’s shoulder.

“Take guard Jock -- you and Sammy both. I’ll see if I can get to the bottom of this.”

The Scotsman glared at the angel, then finally backed off, but not before spitting at the feet of the winged figure.

“You can take your
right-mindedness
and shove it up your arse,” he said. “I’m here to protect the squad. I wouldn’t piss on
you
if you were on fire.”

Sammy Brown led McLeod away and they disappeared out of sight around the corner of the building.

The angel looked down at Rogers.

“I had no other choice,” he said. “I needed warriors. And you were all that was available.”

Just the act of speaking seemed to weaken him further and he slumped against the doorjamb. Pain etched across his face. Rogers stepped forward and took the angels weight, leading -- half-dragging – him inside. The angel let himself be lowered gently to the floor where he sat, cross-legged. He looked up at Rogers, and once again Rogers felt
calm
sweep over him.

“This Murmus you mentioned,” Rogers said. “He is leading these attacks against you?”

The angel nodded.

“Ever since
your
war in the East, the dark ones have been growing in strength and becoming emboldened. They sense the coming of the end of days, and know that they have to release their master before then if they are to have any chance at all.”

“Chance of what?”

“Of toppling the throne of Heaven. That is what this is all about. The evil prince wants the throne and only a band of perfect knights can stand in his way. Do you not read the old stories? It is always thus. As above, so below.”

The angel’s head fell forward and Rogers thought he might have passed out again. He was about to step forward when the head rose.

“Murmus is a Great Duke of Hell. If the old one is freed, Murmus will stand by his right hand, and be master of all he surveys. You think you have seen hell Sergeant Rogers? You have touched but a part of it.”

“And this Duke has a squad of his own?”

The angel smiled grimly.

“He has thirty legions of demons under his command.”

“And that’s a lot?”

This time the smile was one of sadness.

“Somewhere around one hundred and fifty thousand of them. The number varies. I have destroyed many – as have you – but a Duke of Hell is never in want of followers.”

From just outside the window Rogers heard the murmur of voices, one, heavily accented, raised in anger.

“And you brought us here to fight for you?” Rogers asked the angel.

Every word seemed to be a strain for the angel. He looked Rogers in the eye.

“No. I brought you here to fight
with
me. I recognized you. You, all of you, are warriors. Right-minded warriors.”

“Because of our country, our political allegiances?”

“No,” the angel slapped a hand against his chest. “Because of your heart. Because of who you are as men. I might as easily have found some of your
enemies
who would have been as equally suited to the task.
You
were looking for a cause for which to fight. I have given you one. Will you stand with me?”

~-o0O0o-~

A shout from Sammy Brown put an end to the conversation.

“Sarge. You’d better come and see this.”

The angel kept his gaze on Rogers.

“Murmus has come. It is time.”

The angel tried to stand. His legs buckled beneath him and his wings fluttered feebly as they tried, and failed, to unfurl behind him.

“Stay here,” Rogers said, and left the room at a run.

Sammy and McLeod stood just outside the doorway staring, mouths open, at a dark shape that sat some fifty yards away. Huge wings stretched on either side, the tips touching the valley walls. The body of the figure seemed massive and bulky. It seemed to suck in light form all around, obscuring its features. But there was no mistaking its strength.

It was only when a body detached itself and started to walk towards them that Rogers realized that the winged creature had merely been the carriage, a great vulture-like bird that now waited patiently for its master.

The demon that dismounted and walked towards them was half as tall again as any they had so far seen, and nearly twice as broad. It was little more than a tall, man-shaped area of darkness, but the red eyes that stared at them were the size of plates, and glowed with an inner flame.

Its voice boomed and echoed in the narrow confines of the valley.

“My fight is not with you.”

“Tough shit,” McLeod said, and fired.

Once again he aimed for the head, but this time he did not get the result he wanted. The bullets seemed to vanish into the pool of blackness that was all they could see of the demon’s face.

A booming laugh echoed around them.

“My turn.”

The demon raised a hand and a long sword
grew
in his grip, a blade nearly ten feet in length. Before any of the men could react the blade blazed with red fire. It came down on McLeod in a stroke that smote him all the way to the ground, cleaving him from left shoulder to right hip. Small flames rose the full length of the wound. McLeod fell, face forward, already dead as his face hit dirt.

Sammy Brown lobbed a grenade into the dark body of the beast.

It swallowed it.

The flaming sword came up and went down. Sammy Brown joined McLeod, face down in the dirt.

The beast raised its hands in the air.

“Come father, you have slept long enough.”

The dead tree at the side of the building started to tremble. The shocks began to radiate out from that central point, tremors building until the valley floor bucked and seethed like a wind-swept sea.

“Stop,” a quiet voice said.

The angel stood just outside the doorway of the building. 

~-o0O0o-~

Everything fell quiet.

The demon looked at the angel and laughed.

“Your time is over,” it said. “You can barely stand. You don’t have the strength to defy me.”

The angel walked slowly over and put a hand on Rogers’ shoulder.

“Are you ready to fight the good fight?”

Rogers looked at the demon, then down at the bodies at his feet.

He turned and looked the angel in the eye.

“Ready when you are.”

The demon raised the sword above the angel and brought it down fast. Rogers met it with his rifle. The blow jarred all the way up his arm, turning it as cold as stone.

But he did not burn.

Once more he felt infused with calm. With the angel’s hand still on his shoulder he raised his rifle again.

It elongated and flattened, turning golden yellow, a long blade that hummed with power. Sparks flew as it met the demon’s blade.

The ground trembled and shook again beneath them.

“Hurry,” the angel whispered in Rogers’ ear.

Rogers felt invincible. It was only as he strode forward, his weapon raised, that he realized he was staring at the demon almost eye to eye.

The demon raised the blazing sword for a strike, but Rogers didn’t give him the time to deliver it. He stepped inside the blow and thrust his own sword deep into the heart of the blackness.

The demon shrank, tendrils of shadow wafting frantically in the air. Rogers raised his sword again and Murmus retreated.

Seconds later the great vulture took off in a flurry of wings and feathers. A scream rent the air. Murmus swept over the lip of the valley and off, out of sight.

Rogers was left alone on the valley floor.

The ground slowly grew quiet beneath them. Rogers could
feel
the old one now, knew that the beast was buried deep, not dead, but at least sleeping once more.

He turned to speak to the angel.

It lay on the ground, unmoving. Rogers bent, and the angel’s eyes opened. It had strength for just one word before it died.