“Keep moving!” Kamiyo cried.
“I’m trying,” said Philip. “I’m hurt.”
“I have got you, brother,” said Aymun, pulling the man along.
The demons got their legs back under them, leaning against one another and treading over one another. The ground became a quagmire, but the demons swam through it.
“They’re catching us up,” said Kamiyo. “We need to go faster.”
A demon reached out and grabbed Philip’s trailing leg.
Kamiyo groaned. Would they ever make the short journey to safety? He didn’t want to die here in a trench full of piss.
Philip kicked at the demon and shook it loose, but again it grabbed him. Two more demons made it up alongside and grabbed at him too. Kamiyo swung his poker at them but stopping to fight meant he was no longer moving towards safety.
A demon grabbed Philip by the shin. Kamiyo was about to strike at it, but before he made contact, an arrow pierced its flesh. Less than a second later, another arrow planted itself in the demon’s skull. It released Philip’s shin and collapsed face-first in the mud.
Aymun got a hand on dry land and started dragging himself clear of the trench. He turned back to help Kamiyo and Philip, offering a hand to each.
All three men made it to their feet, but they were exhausted. They staggered towards the portcullis, ignoring the demons at their back for they had nothing left with which to fight. Arrows continued dropping from above. Kamiyo glanced up to see the camp’s teenagers lining the walls.
The battle had begun. Shots had been fired.
Kamiyo shoved Aymun and Philip through the portcullis, then staggered in behind them. A growl caused him to turn back around. A primate demon made it out of the ditch and pounced at Kamiyo, razor-sharp claws ready to open his insides.
Kamiyo stumbled on tired legs. He wouldn’t make it out of the way in time. So instead, he shouted, “Frank! Drop the gate.”
The portcullis buried itself in the ground. The demon made it inside just in time—except for its lower half, which lay dissected on the other side of the thick iron spikes.
Part III
44
CALIGULA
Caligula cared not about the wooden door slammed shut in his face. He was not here for a quick victory. Too long a famine to feast on this blood too swiftly.
He looked down at the human corpse he'd impaled and removed the spike from its skull. Then, with one massive hand, he lifted the corpse into the air and tossed it over the walls. Let the humans keep their dead so they might wallow in what was to come.
Every soul inside the stone fort would perish before dawn. If it took a thousand troops to achieve it, no matter. Caligula had more than enough loyal creatures at his disposal. That was what had provided the luxury of attacking the fort from both sides. The humans might have high stone walls, but they lacked numbers. Most of them were children—he could sense their skittish heartbeats.
Their flesh would be a delicacy.
Caligula turned away from the castle and descended the steep slope. His troops clambered in the opposite direction, ready to assault the walls. They would do him proud this day, and he would savour their victory.
But there was something troubling Caligula, an ethereal beetle scuttling through the edges of his perception. He sensed a weakness in reality, a thinness to the air. An infernal gate existed nearby—a portal back to the Abyss. He didn't know where it was, but better it be left out of play.
A second presence also troubled him, a being not of this world. An ancient soul more ancient than his own. He did not know the being's identity, and variables were unwanted in war. Even if it were an ally, Caligula did not want their involvement. This victory would be his alone. A god did not share glory.
Caligula reached the wooden cabin at the bottom of the hill and assembled his Germanic Guard. “Torch this building,” he told them. “Let the humans watch their tiny world burn. Tomorrow, this land will be reborn. I am Caligula, god of a new and everlasting empire. Go, make war and conquer.”
“Yes, Imperator!”
45
HANNAH
Hannah watched the massive abomination retreat down the hill—although retreat was not the correct word. As the giant, skeletal creature marched away, a horde of demons threw themselves at the walls, and against the wooden sally port. Every thud made Hannah wince, but slowly, she gained confidence that the walls would not suddenly fall down. They were safe for the time being.
But they were besieged and surrounded.
The teens were impressive, lining the walls with their bows like a bunch of Elvish archers. They loosed arrows with a pick-pick-pick. Hannah could not see if their shots landed beyond the wall, but she could see the enemy amassing behind the portcullis, rattling it inside its alcove.
Ted climbed back up to the wall above the sally port, firing his nail gun she had retrieved for him at the demonic assemblage below.
“I need my rifle,” she shouted up to him. “I stored it in the larder.”
“Then go!”
Something flew over the wall and clattered into the courtyard. Hannah covered her mouth to keep from screaming when she saw it was Steven’s mangled corpse. “Oh god...”
Ted saw it too, and looked sickened, but then he glared at Hannah. “Keep your head. Go get your rifle.”
Hannah dragged her eyes away from Steven’s corpse and sprinted across the courtyard. The pain in her ankle disappeared as adrenaline turned her body superhuman. She would have to make her remaining rounds count, but before she retrieved her rifle, she couldn’t help but check on the other defensive line at the front of the castle.
Frank led the teenagers above the portcullis, barking commands and directing the fight. Hannah shouted up to him and asked if he had things under control.
He looked down at her. “Everything is bostin, kidda. The buggers are sliding around all over the place down there while we bury arrows in their skulls.”
Hannah looked through
