S imon worked so hard on not seeing what he saw that he almost missed the start of the attack. The HUD painted the figures hanging upside down from the tube ceiling green as he turned the corner.
Other twisted and misshapen figures lay in wait behind the overturned cars of the tube train. Once he saw them, though, Simon knew they were Darkspawn.
“Ambush!” one of Derek’s men yelled in warning.
Out of habit, Simon reached for his sword and the Spike Bolter. He spotted Leah behind him in the HUD view. Backing into her, he growled, “Get to cover.” Then he had the Spike Bolter up in his fist and was firing. A string of detonations ripped away the quietness inside the tube.
The palladium spikes ripped into one of the Darkspawn hanging from the ceiling, pinning the creature to the stone surface. The demon yowled in pain and anger as it tried to rip itself free. Its thin body whipped and twisted, tearing the wounds in its flesh even larger.
Upon closer inspection, Simon saw that on the ceiling the demons had woven a web of cargo netting they’d undoubtedly scavenged from the overturned tube cars. They’d worked awfully quickly to have set the ambush up on the Templar’s return.
A moment later, the Darkspawn Simon had nailed to the ceiling braced its feet and pulled through the spikes. Dark blood ran freely from the wounds. Snarling, the demon landed only a few feet in front of Simon. It lifted a weapon and took aim.
Pocket Star Books
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2007 by Flagship Studios, Inc. Flagship Studios and Hellgate: London are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Flagship Studios, Inc.
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Interior design by Davina Mock-Maniscalco
ISBN-10: 1-4165-4614-6
ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-4614-6
Visit us on the World Wide Web:
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This book is dedicated to my sons Shiloh and Chandler, who play video games with a vengeance.
(They get that from their dad.)
Can’t wait till Hellgate: London comes out
so we can kick butt together!
Acknowledgments
Thanks to editor Marco Palmieri, who helped me figure out the world and how best to approach the novels.
And to the novel review guys at Flagship Studios: Bill Roper, Chris Arretche, Matt Householder, Tyler Thompson, David Brevik, Ivan Sulic, and Phil Shenk, who have helped me stay on the path and provided encouragement.
Thanks also to Steve Goldstein at Flagship Studios (www.flagshipstudios.com) for shuttling the material along.
Historian’s Note
This story begins eighteen years prior to the events depicted in the Hellgate: London video game.
Prologue
LONDON, ENGLAND
ALL HALLOWS’ EVE, 2020
T he winged demon sped out of the darkness without a sound until it was almost on top of its prey. Then it screamed, a bloodcurdling, high-pitched shrill of terror. The razor-sharp claws of its lower appendages were open to grasp and slash. It looked like a cross between a wedge-headed cat and a flying lizard packed into a vaguely feminine form. Glittering silver-gray scales covered the creature from head to tail. Sulfurous odor trailed in its wake.
The demon was a Blood Angel. And the prey was Thomas Cross, who had witnessed a similar such creature—maybe the same one—gut a fellow Templar standing beside him only a few moments ago.
Thomas stood in the shadows of St. Paul’s Cathedral. He kept the stone wall to his back as he turned to face his hellish opponent. If he hadn’t been walking so close to the structure, the demon probably would have taken him on its first pass instead of missing by inches.
The trees blotted out some of the moon, blunting the full moonlight that would have made him easier to see in the night. The heads-up-display (HUD) inside Thomas’s helmet made the adjustments to bring his opponent into sharp relief.
“Lock,” Thomas commanded.
Instantly the computer-augmented systems built into the armor tagged the demon. Even as the creature flew away, the helm’s viewplate kept it marked, tagging it with a blinking red triangle that indicated direction. Digital numbers relayed the distance between the demon and Thomas.
“Target locked.” The computer’s voice was that of Thomas’s father, copied from records Thomas had of Tregarth Cross before he’d died. The voice was the most calm Thomas had ever heard.
All around Thomas, his fellow warriors fought and died. Dozens of Templar littered the ground already, their armor beaten and broken and shredded. Hundreds more would join them before morning came.
When High Lord Patrick Sumerisle, the Grand Master of the Templar, had called them to action tonight, none of them had believed they would survive. In fact, survival would have meant failure.
Even though he’d prepared all his life to shed his blood to protect the world from the demon hordes, as his father and grandfather before him had, Thomas still hadn’t been prepared to watch his brothers-in-arms die. His own likely imminent death left him shaken despite his grim resolve, but the bloody carnage that lay where brave men and women he had known had once stood attacked his very faith.
And they had died. Singly, and—now—en masse.
As the demon came at him, Thomas
