Kultus (30 page)

Amelia glanced to the side, and even Zaphiel was momentarily distracted from his murderous advance.

Julius stood amongst the wreckage, his arm held aloft, the Key of Lunos within his slender grasp, triumph writ large across his battered and bleeding face.

‘I have it,’ he blurted, his face gleeful and maddened all at once. ‘You cannot stop me now, seraph. Not you or your Thrones. We are here. We are one. We are Legion!’

With that, blackness swirled between the two pillars opposite the portal from whence the Thrones had come. Zaphiel reached out a hand, his mouth opening to command the maddened priest of Legion to stop, but he was too late.

From within the blackness of the new portal a taloned hand emerged, followed by another, and another.

‘Behold,’ said Julius, victorious at last. ‘The Legion is come!’

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

For aeons the Host and the Horde had been at war, fighting their battles in the open, knee-deep in the primordial ooze, right up until apes learned to walk and began to dominate the earth. They had carried on their war for millions of years, casualties on both sides uncountable, the heroics and horrors of that conflict lost in the annals of time. On and on they had fought until the reasons for their conflict were long forgotten and the only motivation they needed to go to battle was their congenital hatred of one another.

With the eventual appearance of man, new recruits to their eternal war could be enlisted, and with the hearts and minds of mankind ripe for the plucking came another battlefield on which the immortals could ply their wits against one another, and their perpetual struggle for dominance took on a new guise. Now they could work insidiously, bringing mankind to their cause, working in secret through their minions and stretching out the never-ending hostilities for all eternity. The demons started their coteries and cults, working underground, whispering their promises and levying their honorarium when and where they could. More overt were the celestials, building their cathedrals and raising their fanes so that all could see and hear and flock to their cause.

Now, in the ancient Basilica, on a blasted patch of wasted earth, a conflict of eons was about to come to a head. As the Legion came forth, and the Thrones renewed their efforts to spring from their divine plane, this titanic battle of the ages was played out on a tiny stage. But the size of the battle was no reflection of the ferocity borne by each side. In all the battles fought between these two sides, neither had ever faced a foe with such utter hatred, such quintessential adversity… such rage.

Demons roared from twin mouths lined with razor fangs, spikes and talons standing erect on their backs, tails lashing with hooked appendages. Unflawed faces creased in hatred, spears held aloft, wings buffeting, thrashing in an onslaught of divine retribution.

The two sides met in the centre of the Basilica and shook the holy ground to its very foundations. Arms were torn from bodies, spilling hot, sizzling blood to the desecrated ground. Faces of utter perfection were bitten off, leaving skinless skulls to scream in pain and fury. Spears impaled armoured demon chests, unable to halt the fiendish assault, and such was the determination of the Host and the Horde to destroy one another that they would still rend and tear beyond the limits of their immortal lives.

The noise that filled the tall building was deafening as the velvet voices of the Thrones and the foul bleating of the demonic wave met in a dirge of relentless discord. Gurgling, spitting faces bellowed into the pure and untarnished visages of the Host, their contrasting sounds not countering one another, but only serving to make the din that much more terrifying.

Thaddeus Blaklok lifted his head from the pile of rubble where he lay, and listened for a second to the sound of Hell on Earth. His body was no longer imbued with the strength of the demonic – that cantation had passed – and now he would have to rely on his own innate strength and his wits to finish this. Well, he’d done a bang up job so far!

He rose, still crouching on the pile of smashed brick, keeping his head low and trying to avoid the attentions of the battling immortals. That wouldn’t be too difficult, the Host and Horde were so preoccupied with rending each other asunder they would have little time for a single mortal.

Thaddeus scanned the carnage and soon spotted his prey. Lord Julius was standing to one side of the fray, gripping the Key of Lunos. His eyes were wide as he surveyed the devastation he had contributed to causing.

Picking his moment, Blaklok sprinted across the floor of the Basilica, dodging fallen bodies and smashed rubble. He ducked as one of the Thrones soared overhead, intent on its foe. The screaming angel piled into a mass of seething scaled bodies, sweeping its massive spear left and right, severing arms and heads and legs. But there seemed an endless array of demonic flesh that battled back, tearing at the flawless flesh of the divine with equal fierceness.

As Blaklok neared his prey, Julius saw him and his eyes widened, looking as though they would pop right out of his head. He glanced left and right looking for an escape route but there was none; he was surrounded by ripping, tearing beasts, and would surely be caught in the skirmish if he tried to move – Julius had backed himself in a corner and there was nowhere for him to run.

Blaklok allowed himself a smile as he ran forward. He was almost upon Julius, anticipating the thrill of inflicting pain on the conceited, foolish prig, when something smashed into him. Pain jarred him as he hit the ground hard, sharp rubble splitting his flesh, and he looked up in time to stare into the foul maw of a demon of Legion, its serpentine head dipping to attack with lightning speed. Blaklok instinctively raised his arms to fend off the blow, though he knew it would be useless, when a silver tipped spear lanced forward, transfixing the loathsome creature where it stood.

There was no time to wait and watch the repugnant spectacle as a seraph tore the demon apart. Leaping to his feet, Blaklok made to cover the last few feet to his prey, but Julius had found his escape route; a miniscule gap in the vicious battle. There was daylight peaking through a tear in the Basilica’s wall and the leader of the Cult of Legion was headed straight for it.

Thaddeus stumbled forward, his legs feeling weak after their recent exertions, but he would not allow Julius to escape. There was no way he would let such a man walk free after what he had unleashed, and besides, he had a mission to complete.

But it seemed Blaklok was not the only one who coveted the Key.

A huge white figure slammed down, blocking Julius’s escape route. The high priest of Legion stumbled back, crying out in panic as Zaphiel stood barring his way.

‘Do you realise what you have done?’ spoke the seraph, his voice no longer pleasant to the ear. Now it sounded like a funeral bell, the strength of it blasting Julius back on his rump. ‘They must be stopped. The gate to the Pit must be sealed.’

Julius whimpered, holding up the Key of Lunos toward the irrepressible seraph, surrendering it in the face of the angel’s divine will.

But Blaklok was quicker.

He stretched forward, snatching the Key from Julius’s grip and staring up at Zaphiel.

The seraph smiled.

‘Defiant to the last,’ the angel said. ‘You, at least, are a worthy adversary. But the time for games is at an end. The demons have to be stopped, you of all people must realise this.’

‘The demons aren’t the only ones,’ Blaklok replied, closing his grip around the Key and feeling its power teasing his mind, trying to sway him to its will.

The Key of Lunos wanted this conflict – it was a tool for opening the forbidden gates and its purpose was being carried out to the utmost. Now it only wanted more, to tear open the portals between Heaven and Hell and allow the warring factions to spew forth and use the mortal realm as their battleground.

Blaklok forced the Key to bend to his will, though it resisted, fighting back with a fury. The Key glowed white hot in his hand, burning his flesh, the sound of its defiance shrill in his ears. Perspiration began to bead on his face as his mind struggled to break the Key’s bond with the portals, and he felt the power that opposed him falter. The doors began to flicker in and out of existence, their link to the plane of men weakening.

Something hit Blaklok hard, throwing him back where he crashed to the ground, but he still managed to grip onto the burning Key of Lunos. He opened his eyes, feeling the Key regain its hold on the portals, allowing yet more demons and angels to spew forth, to fight and maim and rend each other asunder.

Above him stood Zaphiel, his golden breastplate glowing in the light, his face a mask of fury. Thaddeus wanted to rise, wanted to face the seraph down, wanted to meet his end with as much spit and fire as he could muster, but his ribs were broken and he could hardly breathe. It would not take much for the seraph to end him now.

‘It will be a shame to cast you down, Thaddeus Blaklok,’ said Zaphiel. ‘You could have been an instrument for righteousness, but instead you elect to throw in your lot with demons and witches.’

‘Go to hell,’ spat Blaklok, flecks of blood spilling from his mouth.

‘No, Thaddeus. It is not I who will go to hell.’

The seraph raised a massive arm, an arm of white marble that would finally smash the life from Blaklok.

White-hot blasts suddenly rained against Zaphiel’s golden breastplate. Chips of the divine armour sparked away and the seraph was thrown back under the deluge. Before he could compose himself, another relentless blast hit him, shredding one wing and knocking him further back.

Blaklok forced himself to stand, watching as the seraph was blasted towards the gaping black portal by a rain of devastating fire. Zaphiel screamed in fury, staring defiantly at the source of the fire, and Blaklok saw that it was Amelia, holding the biggest carbine he had ever seen, pressing the ignition switch hard, gritting her pretty features as the weapon rocked and bucked in her grip. With a scream of rage, Amelia kept the carbine trained on the errant seraph, pushing him back beyond the boundary of the diabolical portal and into the gaping maw of Hell itself.

Thaddeus knew he had no time to waste, and gripped the Key tighter, smelling his burning flesh as it fought against him. But the power of his will was beyond question. Even now the Key’s light was diminishing as it strained against him, losing its battle with this defiant, powerful human. And, as the light of the Key of Lunos ebbed away, so did the shimmering boundaries of each portal, their link with the mortal realm breaking, becoming ever less corporeal with each passing second.

Amelia’s deluge of fire halted, the bandolier of inch long rounds having run out. Blaklok looked up, seeing Zaphiel’s shattered chest and face – but these wounds were not enough to stop the seraph. He screamed, a divine cry of rage that gusted forth like a discordant wind, shattering the remaining windows of the Basilica. Zaphiel charged forth on shattered wings, but he would never be fast enough.

Before the seraph could reach the portal it quickly winked out, leaving nothing of him but the echo of his final cry.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

She dropped the massive weapon to the floor with a dull clank, its payload spent. The horror of the twin portals was now gone, but the battling creatures that flooded the Basilica were still writhing and biting and slaying one another more furiously than ever.

Hodge crouched to one side of the carnage, trying his best to avoid impalement on a ten foot spear or spiked talon, and Amelia frantically beckoned him forward.

‘We have to leave,’ she shouted above the din of battle.

From the look on Hodge’s face she knew he was not about to argue.

Navigating the rubble-strewn floor of the church, Amelia and Hodge made their way towards Blaklok. He leaned heavily against the last remaining pillar of the Basilica that had not been smashed to pieces by the warring immortals. His face was ashen, his body bleeding and broken but still he gripped the Key of Lunos in one meaty fist, as though prepared to defend it to the last.

‘Give me the Key and let’s get out of here,’ she said, looking into his heavy-lidded eyes. He grinned, glancing down at the Key in his hand, then back up at her.

‘Take it if you can,’ he said, his voice weak.

Without pausing, Amelia reached forward and snatched the Key from Blaklok’s grip, feeling it cold against her palm.

Blaklok grinned, then slumped down onto his haunches, his back still leaning against the pillar. ‘I wasn’t expecting that,’ he said with a wry grin.

‘We’ll get you out,’ said Amelia, moving forward to help him, but he suddenly rose, using the last vestiges of his strength, and shoved her backwards. In that instant two creatures, one hellish to behold, the other perfect in every way, smashed into the ground where she had been standing.

The creatures thrashed and wrestled, rending and tearing at one another, and Amelia was relieved to feel Hodge’s strong hands grasp her and pull her away to safety. In the confusion she lost sight of Blaklok, so eager was she to avoid being caught in the melee of two immortal beings, and when she finally composed herself, Blaklok was nowhere in sight.

She paused, glancing desperately around the Basilica, but she could not see him – only the battling creatures from beyond the realms of man, now set on destroying each other absolutely.

Part of the roof suddenly collapsed beside them, and Amelia realised that as much as she wanted to stay and find Blaklok – whether to reward or imprison him, she was not sure which – she knew escape was the only sane option.

Light encroached on the Basilica from a breach in the wall, and Amelia immediately headed for it, Hodge close at her shoulder. Still in her hand was the Key of Lunos. What Amelia had expected from the much-coveted item she wasn’t sure, but it seemed to be a wholly unspectacular object. It did not fill her with dread nor burn her flesh. Neither was she assailed by a psychic wave as the thing tried to control her thoughts or compel her to actions aberrant to her nature. It seemed almost impossible to think that so many had been prepared to kill for such a seemingly insignificant trinket.