Chapter 3

The Manahem Road went straight through Roseborough and branched off at several points, but the main buildings were situated along the wide road.

For the next hour, five hundred men rushed through town. We were all still hard at work when the scout at the south end of town sprinted north. “They’re coming!”

I helped a soldier set a board along a side street on the north end of town and stood, stretching my back. “Let’s get in position,” I said.

At first, I thought the sound was more thunder. But the rumbling didn’t stop. It continued and grew louder until it was a roar in my ears.

Cassia stood behind a chest-high barrier on the opposite side, ten soldiers with her. She caught my eye and nodded.

The ground began to shake; thousands of creatures galloping across the plains made their presence known.

We were outnumbered. Hopelessly. As my father had been forced to fight and engage on an open plain, those numbers counted, even against trained, veteran soldiers. Within the town, however, the creatures would bottleneck, especially if we forced them into that position.

I guessed we had two or three hours before sunrise. Could we make it?

Peering through town, a large roiling mass covered the plains, red and black, bodies tumbling and running over each other. I could feel the hunger, the hate.

The evil.

There was no such thing as pure evil, was there?

The horde of demics hit the town, careening into smaller homes before crashing against the larger buildings. Over the last hour, we had used every piece of material we could find to build fences at the side streets, funneling the creatures into the center of town.

Those barricades doubled as defense while soldiers used their swords and spears to begin killing the monsters.

Hundreds of demics reached my position. They screeched with their mouths wide, revealing black teeth and tusks, their hands three fingered claws. They had blood red skin and tiny horns on the top of their heads. Anna and Grana were right, they were maddy fast.

I would have sworn my father’s sword began to hum.

A dozen demics threw themselves against the barrier in front of me and ten other men, one crying out but stabbing with the rest of us.

While I had never seen battle, I was no sword novice. What I held in my hand was not a normal blade. It cut through the demics like they were mist. The other soldiers hacked and struck and killed, yes, but none of them were as effective as I was with my father’s sword.

The dead bodies only added to the barriers.

One of the soldiers with me went down a few minutes into the melee. Two red imps launched themselves over our heads and fell upon the man with teeth and claws. Another soldier killed them both but not before the wounded man died.

More demics poured into town, and the monsters had less and less room. For a span of time, that gave us more opportunity to kill while they didn’t have the ability to defend themselves. With more piling into the bottleneck, the demics climbed on top of one another to leap over the barriers.

Over the next few minutes, two more of my men died. I couldn’t see how many remained at any other position.

With horrors all around me, men dying and ripped apart by claws, I didn’t have time to be afraid. This was survival, primal.

Cassia blew the horn twice, giving the order for the next phase. How long had it been? It seemed short but I had no sense of time.

The people of Roseborough had left cows and sheep behind, as commanded. A few soldiers with herding experience had rounded up those animals and placed them outside of the town at the end of two side streets, to the east and west. At the signal horn, the men at those side streets peeled back the barriers, letting demics through, siphoning some creatures away with the attraction of fresh meat.

The horde’s density did lighten, more room between the demics. How many had we killed? Over a hundred at our position alone. Did everyone have the same success?

It was a game of numbers. We had to survive, make it to dawn.

We lost one more man next to me, his leg ripped off by sharp black teeth. Other screams joined the screeching of the demics, however. The death cries of men to the south.

Then a voice. I felt it in the ground, filling the air. It was a bellow that froze me for a split second.

“Sohan-el!” the voice said.

My father’s sword hummed, vibrating up my arm.

The others around me also hesitated, and we lost another two soldiers.

That voice. The Demilord. Had to be. None of the other creatures had spoken.

I was busy slicing through the enemy, but I risked a glance down the middle of town.

With long, sinuous arms and legs, he towered over the demics, easily three mitres tall with red skin and black eyes like the others but stood more upright. The horns from his forehead climbed another mitre.

In a moment of horror, the Demilord attacked one of our positions at the edge of the road and decimated it. Swords and spears bounced off his skin. With one arm and claw, he killed those men in a breath.

The Demilord held something in the grip of his other claw.

The glance almost cost me my hand when a little monster tried to clamp onto my wrist. I grabbed him by the neck with my left hand and squeezed while carving off his head with my father’s sword.

“I have what I need.” The Demilord’s voice reverberating in my chest. “I have killed all your soldiers. None can stand before me.”

The other soldiers? More demics gathered near me.

“Surrender to the darkness. It is hopeless. Your world will end. All will die.”

What had that been in his hand? It had only been a glimpse ... I had to know.

After cleaving two demics in half and carving a pace of room, I peered at the Demilord again.

He gripped a human head. My father’s head.

“No!” I heard myself scream.

The Demilord’s black eyes swung and found me. He smiled. “Another Sohan-el. My Master will be pleased. Two of the Enemy’s warriors in my hand.”

Those eyes. Pitch dark, like they sucked in what little light there was in the cloud covered night. Black writing had been etched into his red skin, in an unknown language. The runes themselves tried to steal my hope and strength.

Pure evil. It did exist. I didn’t need an argument to convince me. No book or expert could explain this. I had seen it. Felt it. Known it. El forgive me.

The Demilord strode toward me.

“Judai!” Cassia screamed. She leapt over her barrier and the pile of dead demic bodies to the street. Two soldiers jumped with her.

Cassia held a spear in her left hand and a sword in her right. The two soldiers held spears, as well. I watched while she fought through demics towards the Demilord – wide sweeps with the spear knocked the monsters down or cut with the blade; the sword twirled, slicing imps into pieces. Black blood sprayed everywhere.