“How's it going, buddy?,” asked the man designated Eighth. The blades in his hands flickered as he dodged a club bigger than his body. “You wouldn't happen to know what the fox says, do you?”
The priests of Avri Noll gave up their names and were given masks and numbers. When they left the god's service, they could reclaim their names and put aside their masks. Unlike other clerics, Avri Noll's representatives knew little of the healing arts and aiding others. He lent his power so they could channel it into death, destruction, and fear. Comforting others was not the god's way.
Eighth laughed as he cartwheeled through a series of assaults by the crowd of demons trying to stop him. He landed lightly and stabbed a demon in the leg as he stepped back from the confrontation.
The demons didn't fear his blank mask with the symbol for eight on the forehead, his harlequin mufti in green and blue, and the twin blades that flickered as he swung them through the air. All they saw was a man laughing at them, red hair sticking up like a rooster's comb.
Demons created fear in others. They didn't feel it.
“Come on,” said Eighth. “Give me something to work with here. I can't be the only one here wanting to hit the tavern and drink all the beer. Don't any of you want to take it easy and wait until things die down.”
“Die, human,” said a demon. It stabbed at the clown's back with a spear of curling shell for a blade. Eighth ducked the blade, spinning on his heel. His twin swords sliced the legs of the demon as he let it pass. It fell down on its birdish face as he came out of his spin. He stabbed it in the back of the neck as he straightened.
“Now tell me that wasn't some impressive moves there,” said Eighth. “Who else wants a shot at the king? I'm right here waiting on you to come and get me.”
“Eighth,” said the voice of Avri Noll. “I have a job for you.”
“Hold on,” said Eighth. He held up a hand to tell the demons to wait. “I'm getting a call from the boss. Go ahead, sir.”
The mission wrote itself in his mind. He nodded at the directions. It wasn't the first time his god had personally spoken to him in his mild way.
“Got it,” said Eighth. “This other cleric is as good as protected, sir. Just let me kill all these demons first.”
“Hurry,” said Avri Noll. He cut the connection.
Eighth looked at the demons behind his mask. They growled at him. More were flocking in. He hated to resort to the one spell he knew. On the other hand, he had been given a clear directive.
You didn't ignore your god when he personally commanded you to get the job done.
You did the job, or died like a hero.
“All right, guys,” said Eighth. He faced the monsters. More were streaming to surround him. None dared enter his personal killing circle defined by the end of his sword blades at the extension of his arms. “I have got to go save some other god's cleric. If you want to keep this up, you can follow me there.”
“You are not leaving this fight,” growled one of the demons. “We will feast on your liver first.”
“That's good,” said Eighth. “I like a monster with confidence. I admit that I don't have the juice other clerics have, or their command of the banishment prayers. I do have one thing going for me.”
“And what is that?,” asked the demon. The crowd stepped closer. If they all charged at once, they would get in each other's way while trying to hack him to pieces.
“I can make it rain swords,” said Eighth. He raised both of his hands over his head. He said a word that slipped across the brain as soon as it was said. He sliced down with his weapons.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The glowing symbol of Avri Noll appeared in the air above him. A thousand swords of light fell out of the symbol. They sliced through anything they touched before digging point first into material tough enough to stop them. Most of the demons in the front ranks were chopped to bits under the falling blades. The cloud of ash washed over the survivors and blocked their sight for a moment.
When the air cleared, the masked swordsman was gone.
The demons looked about confusion. Where had the human gone? Mocking laughter filled the air as they tried to scent a trail and follow him to his lair.
Eighth ran across the rooftops. His swords rode in their scabbards on his back. He didn't bother taking action against any demons he came across unless they came at him. He sliced through the nearest limbs for these exceptions as he moved closer to where he had to be. He paused when he reached the street he needed to be on.
There were twice as many demons surrounding the target as he liked. He looked inside himself. He had enough for a few more sword storms to clear his way. Then he would have to hold that house against them.
As a faithful servant of Avri Noll, he didn't have a problem with that.
“Hey, demons!,” called Eighth. “I'm hear to kill you all. What do you have to say about that?”
The demons surged forward to deal with this lone pest. The rain of falling blades dropping on them stopped them in their tracks. They looked for cover as the swords sliced divots out of everything they touched before digging into the ground and burning up.
Eighth charged forward into the hole he had chopped through his enemies. Demons surged to block him from entering the house and evicting them. He sliced into the closest, dodging through several cuts and blunt instrument swings to reach the door. One demon blocked him from entering so he could use the house as his cutting area.
Chilling light washed over him as he sized up the monstrous roadblock. He closed his eyes as he felt the other god's power in the air. The popping of air and the smell of wet ash followed the wave of light.
Eighth turned and examined the battlefield. The demons were gone for as far as he could see. He opened the sight given him by his god. Designated enemies were not even close as far as he could tell.
He had never seen a banishment that powerful before.
“Come inside, please,” said a woman in gray. She looked pale and worn. She smiled at him. “Avri Noll?”
“Yep,” said Eighth. “That was a great banishment spell. I've never seen anything like it.”
“I'm out of power,” said the woman. “You're going to have to fight for this place now until I can get some of my strength back.”
“Can do, little lady,” said Eighth. “You take a nap. This place will still be here when you wake up.”
“The demons can't have it,” said the woman. “They will be able to sacrifice the city if they take it for long enough.”
“I got it,” said Eighth. He looked down at her, eyes glittering behind his blank white mask on either side of his personal symbol. “Who do I work for?”
“Avri Noll,” said the other cleric.
“What is his office?,” asked Eighth.
“War,” said the cleric.
“I may not be able to heal you, or know every fact about every exotic thing that you do, or your god does, but I do know one thing,” said Eighth. “I know how to kill monsters and people. That's what I do.”
“All right, I'm going to tell you one dangerous thing that will help you when you need it,” said the cleric. “If you use your grant from Avri Noll, say this and it will boost your miracle. But it could kill you if you overuse it.”
She told him the god word she had been given.
“That feels great,” said Eighth. “Now get some sleep. As long as I am here, nothing will be able to drag us out of here.”
“Thank you,” said the cleric. She cleared a space on the floor, and built a small barricade with the intact furniture, pushing wreckage out of her space. She lay down inside the barricade and closed her eyes.
“I'm on site and watching,” prayed Eighth. “I will hold until I am ordered elsewhere.”
A feeling of acknowledgment washed over him. There must be thousands of conflicts going on all over the world to attract the god's attention. A percentage of his brothers would be involved in the fighting. He doubted any had been given orders to hold the field against a superior force no matter what.
Eighth smiled. This was the type of situation he had signed up for when he became a priest for Avri Noll. If he went down fighting, his brothers would honor him until the temples broke down. This was immortality.
And if he survived, he would have a story to tell the younger brothers until they became old bitter men themselves.
He just couldn't lose unless no one found out about his last stand and he was one of the nameless brothers who had fallen while doing their duties.
He didn't want to be the ones just assumed to be dead until the god confirmed he had been killed in action. No glory came from that.
He blinked. What was that strange sound? He looked around. He followed his ears. He shook his head when he found the source.
The other cleric snored like ten million horses neighing at the same time.
Eighth shook his head and went back to watch point. At least she felt safe enough in his hands to really sleep. Or she had been calling on her god so much, that she didn't care.
Either way, he was there to let her sleep as long as safely as he could.
It was his turn to be the hero.