“Let’s go,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him through.
He felt a rapid moment of vertigo, then took in his new surroundings. They were inside the temple, its vaulted ceiling hundreds of feet above them. The windows were filled with painted glass, many broken and cracked from the fighting. They’d entered beside a wall not far from the doors, where the angels formed ranks to fight off the swarming demons.
“Watch the windows,” he heard Ahaesarus shout, and Harruq glanced back at one behind him depicting a single tree growing alone in a field. A shadow passed over it, and then a war demon came crashing through.
“Down!” Harruq shouted, pulling Aurelia with him. They hit the ground as the demon rolled over them, still struggling to draw his weapon. As his wings unfolded, Harruq leapt atop him, slamming his head with his fists.
“Harruq!” Aurelia shouted, tossing him one of his dropped swords. He snatched it out of the air and thrust it between the wings, the blade scraping against spine. Twisting it free, he glanced back up to view the combat. More demons were crashing through windows, their wings folded against their sides to prevent injury. Ahaesarus’s angels rushed to meet them, while at the far back, Azariah and his angel priests cast waves of blessings, healing wounds and bolstering the morale of the defenders.
“Join them at the back,” Harruq said, grabbing his other sword. “Do what you can to protect them with your spells.”
“And you?” Aurelia asked.
He gestured to the main conflict at the doors.
“Where else?” he asked.
Before he could go she grabbed his armor, pulled him close, and kissed him.
“Don’t die,” she said before hurrying to the angels at the altar, stopping twice to hurl bolts of fire through the windows at attacking demons.
Harruq forced himself to look away to the task at hand. He didn’t know how many were left throughout the city, but less than fifty angels held the temple, with Ahaesarus leading them. Twirling his swords, he barreled through their ranks to the center, joining the leader’s side.
“I’m glad to see you safe,” Ahaesarus said, disemboweling his foe with his enormous sword. “I feared the worst.”
Harruq parried a glaive, stepped forward, and tore out the demon’s throat with Condemnation. When another thrust his sword, Harruq shoved it upward, his blades crossed. With his right weapon he shoved the attack aside, and his left, stabbed. Blood spilled from the demon’s neck as he gasped for air. When he fell back, a third came flying in, hurling a spear. Harruq tensed, realizing he had no time to dodge, but then Judarius was there, slapping the projectile to splinters with his mace.
“On your toes, half-orc,” the angel said, his face wrapped in bandages. “I will not be denied more duels because of your sloppiness.”
Harruq chuckled but held back his retort. The sight outside the temple was too horrific for even him to joke about. War demons by the hundreds were funneling toward them. They came in great waves, putting all of his skill to the test. He slashed and spun, giving every movement over to his deeper instincts, honed to perfection by thousands of hours practicing with Haern. Whenever one scored a cut, he never felt it, though he knew the blood ran freely down his armor. One after another he cut them down, matching even Judarius in kills.
“Fall back!” Ahaesarus cried. “Too many come through the windows!”
Harruq yanked his sword free of a punctured armor piece and stole a glance back. Even with Aurelia’s magic, the few angels could not hold back so many pouring through.
“Go!” he screamed, shoving Judarius back. “I’ll hold the doors!”
Half the angels retreated further into the temple, coming to the aid of their hard-pressed companions. Ahaesarus remained, along with two others. Side by side, they filled the great entryway to the temple.
“You do your mortal brethren proud,” Ahaesarus said in the brief lull as twenty demons circled in the air, preparing for another rush.
“Not done yet,” Harruq said, his chest heaving up and down with each breath. “And don’t think you are, either.”
He heard spells explode behind him, screams of death, and blades tearing flesh. He prayed Aurelia was safe among them, but he couldn’t dare look. Down came the demons, their glaives leading. They had to bank upward just before hitting due to the way the stairs led to the door, and that brief slowdown was enough to keep Harruq and his allies from being slaughtered. They twisted and parried the sharp tips of the glaives, though one of the angels gasped as it pierced through the bone of his left wing, pinning him to the wall.
“Hold on!” Harruq shouted, stabbing a demon through the eye, spinning, and cutting another down in midair. He tried to protect the angel, but his sword swung too late. The angel fell, his throat cut. Though Harruq killed the attacker, he felt no satisfaction, only growing rage. Ahaesarus kept his sword swinging in wide arcs, steady and skillful. The bodies built up before them, and at last the demons pulled back, half of them dead, and several more injured.
The three spaced out to fill the void and waited.
“Harruq,” said Ahaesarus. “He is almost here. I want you to stay back. Thulos is beyond your skill. Only with Ashhur’s blessing do I stand a chance.”
Harruq snorted. “Not leaving. We fight him together.”
An honor guard of thirty flew before them, just outside of reach. They saluted in reverence, then landed. As they spread out, their wings folding in, Thulos stepped forward from their center. His armor shone in the light, his breastplate splattered with blood. He pulled his greatsword from his back and held it aloft with one hand. He smiled at Ahaesarus, as if all were right with the world.
“You may surrender,” Thulos said. “Though I would be saddened. Otherwise, you may die honorably in battle. Choose, warrior of Ashhur.”
Ahaesarus lifted his sword and made a single slashing motion. Thulos’s smile grew.
“Excellent,” he said.
His lunge was faster than Harruq would have thought possible, had he not seen it before in Veldaren. Before it gutted Ahaesarus where he stood, Harruq slammed both his blades in the way, snarling to ignore the pain in his arms.
“No!” he heard the angel scream. Before Harruq could pull his swords back, Thulos’s fist smashed the side of his head, flinging him back. The other side of his face smacked the wall, and stars exploded across his vision. The sound of combat met his ears, steel ringing against steel at a horrific speed. He tried to clear his thoughts, but all he could think of was getting to Aurelia. At first he crawled on his knees, then found the strength to stand. The temple swam about him, and he swore the ground shook unsteady beneath him.
“Harruq,” he heard his wife cry, and he felt such relief as her hands wrapped about him.
“Hold him steady,” said another, a voice he vaguely recognized. One of the angels…
Light shone across him, soothing and pure. His disorientation faded, and he looked up to see Azariah standing over him. He wasn’t looking back, though, instead staring at the door.
“Even here, the war god cannot be stopped,” said the angel.
“No,” Harruq growled. He clutched his swords tight. “How can you say that?”
“Because Ahaesarus cannot stop him,” Azariah said. “And now Judarius joins his side, and still they cannot.”
Harruq watched from his knees as the two angels battled Thulos. Their attacks were perfectly synchronized, the sword and mace striking high and low, protecting one’s retreat or feinting to open up the other’s attack. It didn’t matter. Thulos’s sword was a blur as he parried and blocked, just a deadly blur until it drew blood. Judarius fell back, a wicked gash in his chest. Ahaesarus leapt before him, blocking the killing blow. Their swords connected, and Thulos pressed the attack, challenging the angels’ strength to stand against him.
“No,” Harruq said again, feeling his rage grow. He stood, the rest of the battle fading away until all he saw was the war god. “Give me your blessing, Azariah. I can stop him.”
“Harruq,” Aurelia said, sounding worried. “Your eyes…”
“Azariah!” he cried, ignoring her.
The priest placed his hands on Harruq’s forehead and whispered a single prayer. The half-orc prayed along, for the words came natural, the desire shared.
“Give him your strength.”
