A poop storm, that’s what. Followed by an infinity of nothing.
He glanced at Larry. Who sat curled in a ball on the seat. Arms around his legs. Head buried on his knees.
All because a silly human didn’t have the patience to learn.
It wasn’t all Larry’s fault though. The dark lords had to have been planning this a long time. Had been carefully arranging the pieces. Setting up a situation where the opportunity would arise.
The dark coven. Was there some master of darkness, lurking behind all those dark lords? An entity pulling their strings as much as they pulled Larry’s and the Sapphire Witch’s?
Not that it really mattered now.
He cleared his throat. Again. “Lady Rachel,” he said, “How much time do we have?”
“Very little,” Rachel said, “The dark lords have already breached the barrier to the normal world.”
It hit him like a bucket of ice water to the face. Which would actually have been nice, given how hot the greasepaint on his face was.
“They have?”
“They breached the moment my idiot husband’s body died,” Rachel said. There was a hitch in her voice as she continued. “They only reason they haven’t come through is that the pact wasn’t completed. His soul needed to be brought to Igidbon’s realm. Through the other Eye of Malachi.”
Other Eye of Malachi?
“My lady?” Hilario said, “I don’t understand. There is another Eye of Malachi? in Igidbon’s realm?”
“Oh course,” Rachel said, “That’s where we’re going now.”
The van bounced and creaked over the rough road as he contemplated that. Thoughts that made the acid churn in his empty stomach.
“But…if the armies of the dark lords are preparing to go through that Eye of Malachi,” he said, “Doesn’t that mean…”
“Yes,” Rachel said, “The massed armies of the dark realms are waiting there.”
Oh.
Poop.
60
Well.
He was going to die.
He pulled the van to a stop at the top of the hill. Through the open window he caught the scent of acrid smoke. It made his eyes sting.
Or maybe that was the tears he blinked back.
Down on plain below, fires dotted the landscape. Tiny points of light.
As far as the eye could see.
Left. Right. Forward. Dots of orange light. Coalescing in the distance to a solid river of flicking orange.
And around every single fire, probably a dozen or more soldiers. Ogres. Orkes. Demons. Mercenaries of every flavor.
Enough to overrun a city many times over.
Hilario bit his lip. Hard enough that he tasted coppery blood. His hands, sweaty in their white gloves, clenched the wheel in a death grip.
Which would probably be a literal death grip soon.
He tried to picture the old wizards of the coven marshaling their defenses on the other side of the Eye of Malachi. Gem Witches and Paladins, too.
A few dozen beings against wave after wave after wave of enemies. It didn’t matter that ogres and orkes had spears and swords and the wizards had magic. The dark lords counted on numbers to weaken their defenses.
Then the dark lords would step in and sweep the last resistance aside and establish their hold in the normal world.
And kill a city. Almost incidentally. Like swatting a fly.
He took a shuddering breath. Looked at the rearview mirror. Rachel sat over the still form of the Sapphire Witch. She hummed her incantation. What was she trying to do?
“Tell me how they’re going to get through the breach without Larry’s spirit?” he said.
“Look to the tower,” Rachel said.
Tower? He squinted at the fire dotted plain. What tower? His gaze roved upward. There wasn’t any…
Oh. Poopity poopikins in a poop bag.
The tower–the Eye of Malachi–stood at the horizon. As they always seemed to do. At this distance there wasn’t much detail to see. Just a squat black finger set against even more blackness. He wouldn’t have seen it at all if it wasn’t for the pulse.
He silently counted the seconds. Halfway past the sixty-sixth second, another pulse.
A deep purple burst of light flared around the squat tower. So deep it barely registered against the darkness.
But from that burst a thin line of red shot out on either side along the horizon. After a few seconds the line faded.
But not entirely.
After another sixty six and a half seconds, the light flared around the tower again. As did the red lines. They faded. But were a little brighter than the last burst.
“Dawn is coming,” Rachel said, “Do you remember the death rites?”
His chest tightened. Of course he remembered the death rites. Well, now he did. If he’d remembered them earlier this evening…Actually if he’d done the correct thing earlier this evening the city might have been overrun already.
Him and his bad luck might actually be useful for once.
He twisted his thick sausage fingers on the steering wheel. “After death by fire, if the soul’s debts are not repaid or forgiven by the following dawn, those who are owed may return to collect.”
A simple pact. You owed something, your creditor collects whatever piece of you they desire to satisfy the debt. Used in the unseen world to keep soul indentured to certain realms. Often forever, if the being owing never figured out how to get themselves out of debt.
But Larry didn’t owe anything to the dark lords. How could they collect? The entity Larry owed was…
“Sinzerklaazz…”
“Yes, Sinzerklaazz,” Rachel said.
“They captured him,” Hilario said.
“Yes.”
At dawn the dark lords could force Sinzerklaazz through the Eye of Malachi.
“They’re going to make Sinzerklaazz into a bridge,” he said, “Instead of Larry.”
“Yes,” Rachel said.
Hilario groaned. This was terrible. Beyond terrible. It was hopeless.
“How are we supposed to stop them?” he said.
“We’re not,” Rachel said, “We’re
