Fifteen feet above the street, Leah cut loose from the harness and dropped. She hit the ground on her feet and immediately tucked into a roll. The augmented strength of the suit would have allowed her to land standing, but that would have also made her an easy target for the demons.
“Here, Leah! Nip in!”
One of the orange dots identifying the agents suddenly radiated concentric circles to attract Leah’s attention. She gathered herself and ran, pulling both her weapons.
Two men and one woman took cover behind an overturned double-decker bus beside the burned, rusting hulk of a tank that was a grim reminder that the British military had failed to stop the demon invasion in 2020. William Pittsfield, the man who’d called to Leah, was a veteran of both the military and a clandestine career that spanned decades. He was a survivor.
“A bit rough out tonight, eh?” Pittsfield asked.
“Perhaps a bit,” Leah agreed.
Pittsfield leaned out around the bus and took aim with the Grizzly Rifle he carried. Energy pulsed and spewed during the two-second burst. A group of Darkspawn that had been closing in on their position went down like wheat before a scythe. Their smoldering bodies lay twisted and broken on the ground.
“One thing you have to say about this little tea party,” Pittsfield said laconically, “there’s no lack of targets.” He recharged his weapon.
“What about the satchel teams?” Leah asked.
“We’ve lost one of them,” Evelyn Herrington said. “There were more of these blighters here than we’d been told to expect.”
Leah didn’t say anything. It was hard to know the exact numbers of demons. So many of them looked alike, they could have been interchangeable parts. Added to that and making it even more difficult, the demons constantly moved.
“We need better intelligence about these sites,” Leah said.
“Agreed.” Robert Wickersham was the youngest among them. He had come to his majority while the war with the demons was under way. He ducked around the corner for a moment and fired the XM55 20-mm rifle he carried. A Darkspawn sniper located in one of the nearby buildings took a header out of a window and crashed to the ground below.
“Good shooting,” Evelyn commented.
“Thank you.”
A sudden explosion ripped across the street and jostled the bus. For a moment Leah thought it was going to overturn on them. Then it settled once more with a grinding clank.
Leah tracked the explosion.
“Satchel Team Three,” Pittsfield stated grimly. “They didn’t make it inside the dome.”
“Are there any survivors?” Wickersham asked.
Pittsfield’s masked head shook. “I don’t know.”
“If there are, we can’t just leave them for the demons.”
“I know.” Pittsfield looked around at them. “Everybody saddled up then?”
“Yes,” Leah said.
The other two echoed her.
“Righto,” Pittsfield responded. “Then let’s be about it, and be quick. We’ve riled these little beasties up.” He glanced around the corner of the bus and took off.
Leah followed.
SEVEN
Simon swung his broadsword with all his amplified strength. The blade bit into the Ravager’s reptilian face. Blood spurted over Simon’s visor and obscured the forward 76 percent of his view—the suit ID verified that. He backed up automatically, holstered the Spike Bolter at his hip, and wiped the blood from his visor. His view remained streaked and smeared, but it was better than it had been.
In front of him, the Ravager’s face had been split nearly in two by the sword blow. The weapon remained mired in the demon’s flesh as it yanked back. From the jerky movements he observed, Simon judged that the creature was dazed. Simon used both hands to free his sword, weathered a mostly ineffectual blow that struck his chest, then rammed the broadsword into the demon’s chest to pierce the heart.
Transfixed by the Templar blade, the Ravager shuddered and stood upright. Then its gory head fell to the side. The body followed it and the demon slumped to the ground.
“Carnagors!” someone shouted.
Slightly winded from his efforts, Simon wheeled around and looked past the blazing pyre that remained of the Ravager that Nathan had attacked. The other Templar had engaged the demons and fought for their lives. Thankfully all of the warriors still stood.
Beyond them, though, creatures burrowed up from the ground. At least a dozen of them broke the surface. Black soil scattered across the white snow.
The Carnagors resembled tanks. Massive as elephants, thick hide covered their bodies and provided natural armor. Tusks and rows of jagged teeth filled the cavernous mouths. Jagged spikes stood up from their spines. Hooked talons meant for digging and slashing jutted out from their toes. Carnagors could rip a Templar’s armor open with those talons. Simon had seen it happen firsthand.
It was a trap. The cold realization of what had happened swept over Simon. This was beyond the capabilities of the Ravagers and the Carnagors.
“Sweep for demons,” Simon ordered the AI. “Confirm known types.”
“Sweeping. Confirm known demons: Ravager, Carnagor, and Minion.”
“Isolate and display Minion.” Simon lunged out of the way of a stampeding Carnagor. Even as fast as he was, he barely escaped the full brunt of the demon’s attack. One of its shoulders caught his right foot and spun him into another Carnagor twenty feet away.
The second Carnagor whipped around and tried to bite its offender. Simon swept up a large rock and threw it into the Carnagor’s throat. The rock gagged the monster for a moment. As it coughed and hacked, it pulled away and clawed at its mouth with its front feet. The razor-sharp talons scored its ugly face again and again. In its panic, the Carnagor didn’t notice the cuts.
“Minion isolated,” the suit AI said. “Displaying.”
Simon got to his feet and reached around to his back for the Blockade Shield he carried. The shield had been hammered out on Templar forge, then overlaid with arcane energy and layered with NanoDyne tech. The nanobots gathered energy from the earth’s electromagnetic field much as the spellwork served to do. When fully charged, the shield was a powerful weapon as well as a means of defense.
On the HUD, Simon spotted the
