Blood and Retribution part 2

The flow of men pouring through the gate surged like water funneled through a tight hole. From our vantage in the gatehouse, I could see why. The demons were now pressed up against the walls of Gemmen, the ring of men holding the line outside the gate shrinking with every passing minute. The gate needed to be closed.

“Close the gate!” I shouted, my cry taken up by several others. “Close the gate!”

Astmon Jund of the Crimson Vanguard had filtered through in the last couple of minutes and still lingered near the gateway, directing the gate from the ground. Upon hearing my call, he gathered together nearly a dozen of his men in an attempt to stem the tide of encroaching soldiers.

The gates began to close, slowed by countless soldiers trying to flee into the city walls. Astmon and his men struggled to push the influx of men back. The doors were half closed now, kept open only by the pushing of doomed souls, all fighting for their last breath of air before the raging sea of demons swallowed them down. More men on the inside ran to push closed the gates, realizing that if they were not shut, that soon the storm would be upon us.

For a moment, both sides reached equilibrium, the gates half closed. The demons crawled closer, cutting through the last remnants of the outside lines. The strength pushing the gates open weakened and slowly the gate was pushed closer and closer to shut. Fewer and fewer struggling men managed to slip through. I let out a shaky breath as the crack narrowed. The condemned men gave one last push as the demons reached them, their strength fueled by desperation.

The crack never closed, and in an instant the demons were upon the gateway. The heavy wooden gates were smashed open as the Demonfather rampaged through, trampling over soldiers who thought that they had barely escaped death. A wave of demons followed, fanning out in tight ranks to establish a foothold within the city.

Vexala and the Grand Inquisitor were off in moments, rallying their companies to action. I sent Father Alton to move the truck to a safer location while Ser Erik and I leapt down into the fray. Astmon had been caught up in the initial surge and now he and a small group of the Crimson Vanguard had been encircled behind the demon foothold.

“Rally to me!” I called, “To the gate! Push them back to the gate!”

Arrows flew overhead as the Sisters atop the walls turned inward and focused their fire on the Demonfather. The lanky general had pushed far into the city and was now surrounded by pikemen. A hefty swing from his scythe felled nearly a dozen of them. I tore my vision away and hoped that the general could be taken by the infantry. Right now, my focus would have to be on stemming the tide of demons rushing through our now wide open gates.

Finding a blade dropped by one of the fallen was not difficult and Ser Erik, myself, and a horde of soldiers of all stripes and colors pressed forward, smashing into the demon lines with vigor. We managed to clear enough space to reconnect with Astmon’s force. The mercenary captain looked to be in a poor state. Blood ran freely down the length of his arm, and one of his eyes had been slashed open by a demon’s blade. His once blond hair was encrusted with blood and mud.

“We need to get him out of here.” Ser Erik said.

“No,” said Astmon, “We must close the gates now!”

“He’s right.” I confirmed, “To the gate! Close them out!”

I rushed on, slashing the throat of a demon before he could raise his blade in defense. I’d been continuing my lessons in swordsmanship with Ser Erik in earnest after rumors of a holy war had intensified, and I was glad to see them paying off. Fury and adrenaline enhanced my movements, and for a minute I forgot myself in the dance of slash and parry, thrust and weave. The intoxicating rhythm of combat took hold of me as the three of us carved a line of death straight into the heart of the demon advance.

Soldiers poured in after us, broadening our spearhead as we closed in on the right gate. A similar advance had begun on the left. I grabbed the gate and shoved forward with all my might, joined by a hundred hands I did not recognize. Slowly, the gates began to creak shut.

We’d been in this situation minutes before, I realized, in a desperate fight to close the gates before ruin overwhelmed us. How would we succeed where we had failed before? I wondered. The answer came in the form of the war cries and battle calls of the men around me. Men screamed in rage and in fury, desperately willing the gates closed, forcing themselves to push beyond their limits. Human desperation had kept the gates open the first time around, and it would be human desperation that closed them now.

Slowly, surely, we pushed the doors nearly to a close. We were reaching the same problem that had delayed their closure the first time; the closer the doors were to being shut the more surface area the demons had to push back against. Something needed to change, we needed to push the demons off the doors.

Astmon Jund saw that as well. He stepped back from the gate, took in a deep breath, and charged through the breach. His sword flashed amidst the sea of black, and the resistance to our push lessened. The men redoubled their efforts and Astmon vanished as the gate slammed shut.

The influx of reinforcements may have been severed, but the demons still had a sizable force within Gemmen’s walls. The Demonfather had managed to break free of the pikemen and rejoined the rest of his forces. Those that had absconded from the gate had established a defensive position within a three-story bank with a grand entryway. I did not want to think about what had happened to the civilians within, but my gut told me that it was nothing good. The demons that had not managed to make that point were swiftly mopped up by the Grand Inquisitor and his men.

“Those demons need to be flushed out of that building,” Ser Erik said, “A majority of buildings in this city have wooden walls. The demons might be able to bust through them to neighboring buildings and circumvent our blockade.”

“We can try burning them out.” Said Vexala, “Even if the fire does not kill them, their cover will be removed. They’ll be easy pickings for my archers.”

“No,” Ser Erik said, “There are still civilians in neighboring buildings, and in the midst of a battle I don’t trust our ability to contain that fire. We could end up setting half the city ablaze!”

“In these situations, I’ve often found that a direct approach is the most effective.” The Grand Inquisitor said, “You’ve seen the size of the Demonfather, his movements will be hampered by the structure. It would be an ideal place to take him on.”

They all turned to me, waiting for my input.

I nodded. “It could work. We don’t have many options and time is of the essence. Let’s do it, and quickly, before they can tunnel to neighboring buildings.”

The Grand Inquisitor provided two dozen of his own pikemen to head the advance. Ser Erik and I added nine of our war priests to the maneuver, then backed the incursion force with archers from the Sisters of Saunlan. Remnants from the Crimson Vanguard cleared the demons on the outside of the building and stood aside as our force assembled before the broad entryway.

The Grand Inquisitor gave me a nod. I signaled the attack and the pikemen busted open the doors with a crash. The entry went smoothly, all things considered, and a foothold was quickly established within the bank’s high entry hall. Demons thrust back against the wall of pikes to little success. The formation held tight and advanced, weapons steady at charge.

The Demonfather had no choice but to make his presence known. In such tight quarters, he could not swing his scythe to full effectiveness. Instead, the demon general thrust forward with the shaft of his weapon, breaking apart the pikemen’s formation with his superior range. Vexala moved her archers up to the mouth of the bank and fired in volleys, denying the lesser demons from taking advantage of this lapse in their guard. War-priests of the order fired rays of light, singing the Demonfather’s skin. One blast took a chunk out of his mask, exposing more of the wrinkled black flesh beneath.

“Commander Vexala! Divine Speaker!” A young woman wearing the colors of the Sisters of Saunlan approached, out of breath.

“What is it?” Vexala demanded.

“Go on.” I said.

“It’s the demons!” She panted, “They’ve withdrawn from the wall! The big one is-–”

We never got to hear the last of what she said. A loud roar filled the air and a section of the north wall erupted in flame and ash. Stone flew through the air, debris raining down on the gathered soldiers. A wide swath of Gemmen had been blasted away in the wake of the explosion, and striding into the city was a large figure carrying a massive warhammer, the head of which glowed with intense orange magic.

“The Scourge of Carcinex.” Vexala breathed. “Archers! Shift fire! Bring that monster down!”

Following the Scourge of Carcinex, thousands of demons rushed into the breach. The Demonfather seized the moment, breaking through the startled lines and surging back towards his brethren. I could only stand, paralyzed by horror. The walls had fallen, and Gemmen was soon to follow.