Troll came to mind when Vergil stared up at the creature. A fantasy troll mixed in with some gorilla to make… this. His sight couldn’t take it all in at once, even from several paces away.
The monster towered in truth, a rippling wall of muscles, veins, and armour plating that shuffled closer. Short, bristly black hair covered the creature’s body like iron nails. Every part of it looked deadly. A man’s head could fit easily in the drooping maw, and there was no question if the powerful jaws could crack bone or not. It could probably bite through stone if it set its mind to it.
There was a certain unreal quality to the monster. Colours shone on it like an oil slick in water. They rippled, coalesced, then disappeared. It was hard to focus on any one bit of the creature without the sight trembling and shifting to something different.
Most importantly, it wasn’t charging. Rather, it swayed as it moved away from the basement, the stink of alcohol heavy on it. Vergil considered throwing the torch at the creature before it came to its senses. But they only had the one.
“Soldier?” Licia asked by his side, her voice perfectly steady. She wanted a plan from him.
Vergil handed her the torch and drew his weapons. Sil’s illum thrummed through him, as strong as if she were right besides them. The effort to do what she did now must have been colossal, if he understood anything of channelling by now.
“I’ll distract it. You light up the casks inside,” he said resolutely.
Horvath strained in him and he felt the ghost’s anger wafting out of the helmet like never before. The sight of the creature got the dwarf frothing mad. His messages scrolled on Vergil’s vision, all snarling curses, cusses and battle suggestions. He wanted the fight with every bit of his being.
Well, funny that… so did Vergil.
The troll attacked first.
It blurred and then was atop Licia, its fist swinging down onto the elendine. She dodged aside at the last possible moment and the huge club-like arm hit the stone beneath with bone-shattering force.
Vergil exploded into action, slashing down at the arm before it rose. He aimed for the tendons connecting fist to forearm, but the troll was impossibly fast for a thing its size. It swung at Vergil and the sword buried itself into the open palm, slashing a line of black blood across it.
Vergil had to duck or risk getting grabbed. A second attack never came.
The troll charged at Licia again, swiping after the elendine as she made for the cellar, roaring drunkenly.
Vergil gave chase. He ran and leapt at the thing’s back, axe coming down like a climber’s ice pick. He buried the hooked part of the axe head into the troll’s shoulder and stabbed down with the silver sword. Now the beast roared in pain as it raised a massive hand to swat him off.
“Go! Go!” he called as he dodged and withdrew the sword. He stabbed again, lower, and the monster bucked under his feet. It shook with such violence that Vergil banged his head inside the loose helmet. Red blotches of pain marred his vision and his fingers slipped off the axe handle. He dropped to the ground and immediately rolled away to avoid being stamped to death by the monster’s stubby legs.
Again, it bolted for Licia, its interest infuriating.
How the bloody hell do I grab this thing’s attention for good? He cast about for any other weapons to use. A thick coil of rope would help him trip the beast up for long enough that they’d accomplish the mission.
The elendine was half-way to the cellar doors when it caught up to her. It reached out and grabbed her by the leg, picking her up mid-run, like a club. The maw opened. Too many fangs on too many rows reflected the torch’s light.
Vergil had a horrible flash of empty eyes staring up at him, and a terrifying feeling of helplessness washed over him.
He’d frozen once upon that memory. Now, he surged forward, running at full tilt, eyes on Licia, fist holding tight the end of the rope.
Licia stabbed at the creature’s hand, knife coming down and drawing blood with each strike. It wasn’t doing much. She dropped the blade and rammed the torch inside the troll’s mouth, stabbing up into the back of its throat.
Vergil slammed into the troll’s side with bone-crushing impact, his shoulder to the beast’s ribs. Something cracked. If it was Vergil’s shoulder or the monster’s ribs, he couldn’t know, but the troll dropped Licia. She lost the torch between the monster’s teeth.
A stream of fire belched out from the open mouth, like a dragon’s breath.
Vergil caught the falling elendine and threw her clear of the suddenly enraged beast.
The fire caught. It spread. Soon the troll’s entire body was a bonfire of red and blue flames, its heat searing even from paces away. It swung at Vergil. Fire leapt off its fur, as if—
“It’s covered in alcohol!” Licia yelled from the side.
And now Vergil was too, after ramming the thing. He jumped away from the flame projectiles, aware of how wet his clothes were. By now the entire monster was burning. It screamed in several voices at once, its rage a thing to behold. It stamped after him, spilling the flames with each hop and swipe and thrust of its fists. Vergil stared into coal-red eyes shining in the mass of fire.
He spat blood inside the helmet and rushed at the thing, Horvath’s fury filling him with absurd strength. The rope coiled around the troll’s feet, too thick to burn out immediately. Vergil dove under its blows, making sure to tie both feet firmly together as the beast kept trying to spin in place and pin him.
How to get it down for good?
Where was Licia?
He risked a glance away from the monster and found the elendine climbing atop a stack of barrels. They were large enough that a grown man could fit inside, stacked sideways into a pile held together by a another cord of rope.
She caught his gaze and pointed towards the cellar. Vergil understood her plan, and complied.
He stopped dead, dodged aside form a killing swipe of the monster’s burning fist. He stabbed at the fist and was rewarded with another blow that he could avoid. Another stab. Another blow, the monster more and more enraged by the heartbeat. When Vergil drew back, the beast raised both hands to pound him down and tried to give chase.
The rope tightened. Its feet came together in tight bindings.
And the troll lurched forward, falling like a great tree in a forest. It crashed two paces away from where Vergil waited.
He didn’t waste the chance. The sword bit deep into the troll’s face, keen edge buried into those red, malicious eyes. When Vergil pulled it free, it threw black blood into the air, fizzling through the flames.
He wasn’t prepared for the fist that followed. Instead of roaring in pain, the troll punched out with such speed, from such an angle, that, for a moment, the flames extinguished. It caught Vergil in the hip. His feet left the ground and he was flung back meters, crashing back with a horrid scraping noise of metal on stone.
In heartbeats the troll ripped the rope apart. It charged Vergil, blindly galloping on all fours after the noise.
Vergil rolled aside and avoided death by a hair. The troll’s feet trampled right past his head.
Adrenaline surged in his veins as he came to his feet, pain muted to a distant throb. He’d been hit but nothing was broken. His heart thumped a steady rhythm in his ears as he followed the beast.
There was a plan. That’s all Vergil needed to know.
The monster crashed through a nearby pile of crates and spread the flames around. The whole courtyard was awash in blue fire, spreading with each clash between man and daemon.
Vergil ran back to where his sword lay. The axe had fallen from the creature’s back and lay nearby, the flames reflecting off its smile.
If Tallah wanted that alcohol, she would be sorely disappointed. Vergil grit his teeth and banished the thought of escape from his head.
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The monster would fall. By his hand and act, it would fall. He couldn’t let a thing like that loose into the city proper, or the deaths would be on his hands.
A crash announced the troll rearing up from the burning wreckage. It swung around, listening for his prey, the fire doing little to harm it. Each step it took spilled more flames to the ground. The air choked on smoke.
Somewhere back, Vergil knew the others were fighting a losing battle. Arin had been brave, but they didn’t have the numbers to keep the monsters at bay for long. It was already a miracle other daemons hadn’t joined this particular fight, given the noise Vergil and the troll were making.
The soldiers must be giving a good account of themselves, he thought as he slowly and quietly circled around the monster. They won’t fall, so I can’t fall.
* Kill it!
* Kill it!
* Kill it!
Horvath’s fury fuelled Vergil’s own. Parts of him hurt like mad, but the pain was an easy to ignore distraction. All he needed was several more heartbeats to be in the right place, his axe nearer by the moment.
Licia was atop the barrels, hacking at the rope with her knife. It frayed, a piece of it snapping off. The monster turned in her direction and bellowed.
Vergil grabbed his axe and sword and banged them together as he broke into a run towards the cellar. Would a barrel be heavy enough to knock the troll over? Would it be heavy enough to knock it back?
They could only hope. Without looking back he felt the monster charging. The ground shook.
Pain was blossoming in his side and his steps faltered. Something had definitely been broken or near-enough, and it was catching up with him before the monster did. His strength faltered for a heartbeat, all pain hitting him at once.
“Not now,” he gritted his teeth and ran on. His resilience was rewarded by a fresh surge of power from Horvath as if…
Sil had used another nettle bag!
The fleeting illum returned in force. Now pain dissipated again just as the troll bore down on him, jaws clamping empty air. Vergil felt the hiss of breath on the back of his head, felt spittle spraying the exposed part of his neck. He spun in place and slashed blindly. The blade cut across the daemon’s face, more black blood spraying. Screams of pain and rage followed as it pawed at the cut, trying to slap or catch or crush anything in its path.
Vergil ran on and skidded to a halt in front of the double doors leading down into the distillery cellar. He became dimly aware of a patch of his clothes smouldering. No time to deal with it just now.
He banged his sword and axe together, hard as he could, and screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Over here, fucker! Come on! Come on!”
The troll bore down on him. The ground shook with its wild gallop. It was coming at the wrong angle. Licia leaned on the farthest barrel and braced her feet against the one in front. Her eyes tracked the monster.
“Fuck!” Vergil groaned as he kept banging. It would be on him in a heartbeat.
Licia pushed, her back arching as she put her whole strength into dislodging the massive barrel. It moved. Tumbled down from the other one with a sound that suggest the bloody thing was full. If the monster didn’t get him, the bloody barrel was likely to crush Vergil.
He stood his ground to the last possible moment.
The monster leapt at him, both burning arms raised over its head, back arched. Vergil held his breath as he watched the monster descending, time feeling stretched.
* Move, sprig!
He leapt aside as hard as he could. The monster crashed to the ground, both fists slamming into the earth, shattering the stone. A single heartbeat later, the barrel crashed into it and knocked it forward, down into the cellar. It roared as it fell, fire filling up the entrance, fumes ignited into a great, loud belch of blue flame.
Vergil rolled as he landed, then sprinted away towards Licia. She’d clambered down from the barrels and was running. She let out a long, loud whistle that echoed in the cavern.
Neither of them stopped running. They jumped the low fence surrounding the yard, rolled back to their feet, and ran as hard as their feet could carry them. Away. Away from the fire and who-knew-how-much alcohol stocked in that bloody cellar.
Heartbeats passed.
Nothing happened.
They kept running, looking to put some building between them and the burning cellar.
The troll’s roar echoed behind them, its anger a palpable, terrifying thing. Vergil grabbed hold of Licia’s arm and yanked her into a dive behind the first stone building they reached.
Then the ground bucked beneath their feet and hurled them against the wall. A whoosh filled the air, then a tectonic boom that shook the entire cavern. The gloom of the Rock turned bright as an illum hearth vent.
Vergil didn’t see the explosion but all of the Cauldron would have felt it. He scrabbled to cradle Licia’s head and protect her from any flying debris. Rocks rained around them, smashing through walls and roofs. One crashed through the building they were hiding behind of, sailing into the next, trailing a comet tail of dust.
Mortar and rubble rained down on them, the dust choking the air.
It went on for eternity.
Then eternity ended and Vergil’s ears rang. When the earth stopped shaking and the rocks stopped falling, he climbed to his feet.
And was immediately dragged back down and thrown to the ground. Licia was batting at him, talking, face grimy with dust and sweat and blood. He couldn’t understand the words, lost in the ring. He could only feel a wetness around his ears.
Hers were bleeding. He said something… he must’ve. His throat worked to form words.
Then the pain hit him. Heat! His eyes turned down at where Licia was battering him. Flames were sputtering on his clothes, black smoke rising. He helped her batter down the fire. As it died, Licia lay straight down over him, wrapping herself on his chest. The heat died away.
He was thankful for the dust in the air and the choking smoke that drifted in.
Else he feared he might have smelled cooking flesh. And that would have been terrible in ways he didn’t quite understand himself.
When she rose off him and inspected the burned hole in his clothes, the world had quieted considerably. Vergil’s ears still rang. Sound penetrated only from the right. He removed the helmet and ran a hand through sweat-slicked hair.
It didn’t make the world any louder.
“Are you alright, soldier?” Licia was asking. Vergil had to strain to hear.
“Yes,” he yelled.
“What?” she yelled right back.
Both of them reached up to their ears, then inspected their bloody fingers. Sil and the healers would have a hard time with them today. Vergil let his head drop back to the ground and his helmet clattered away. Licia sat next to him, leaning her back on the wall. Her hair was a tangled black mess, grimy with sweat, blood and whatever else had rained on them.
“You’re insane,” she said loudly. Then laughed, as if she just realised she was as mad as Vergil.
They grinned at one another.
“Not bad, eh?” he asked.
“What?” she answered.
It took some time before they found the strength to properly rise and extract themselves from the ruin of the building. The wall they hid behind was the last still standing, and that only barely.
The distillery’s yard was simply gone. A crater yawned in place of it. There were no more gardens. Nothing of the distillery itself remained. All that was left behind was the crater. Smoke and dust hung in the air, thick as soup, stinging the eyes.
They found Arin and the others, battered and bloody, but alive. They’d disengaged the fight in time to run for cover.
Arin had his helmet off as he helped bandage a gash across Cram’s face. It struck Vergil of how young the soldier really was. Dark hair cropped short, patchy stubble, large, blue eyes. He looked younger than Vergil even, though it didn’t show in his bearing.
After several minutes of shouting at one another to be understood, they decided to retreat back to the fortress. The fighting had thinned, the daemons more shocked by the explosion than the soldiers of the city. Purges were carried out, the dead gathered and carried out to be burned, daemons executed wherever found.
Aside from the destruction around the distillery, the Rock had suffered quite the blow. The stream of the wounded and the dead going up was a depressing sight to dampen Vergil’s spirit. He’d plugged the hole, but the damage had been done.
They reached the healing ward late, allowing the more gravely wounded priority ahead. They helped carry the worst cases in. Vergil wanted to offer to go pick up wounded from the walls, but Arin stopped him. Sil had come out and was giving them all a stare so vile that it curdled blood.
“Another like this, and we may not survive it,” Arin said, louder than the words warranted.
Sil pressed him down on the bed as she stuck a stick in his ear, coated in some kind of resin. Vergil had survived the same treatment and his hearing was steadily returning. It stung like nothing he’d ever felt before, and the look on Arin’s face said as much.
“When I said to do your duty,” Sil said through gritted teeth, “I didn’t mean for you to blow up half the city. You’re becoming as reckless as Tallah.”
“What?” Vergil, Licia, Cram and Arin answered in a chorus. Their laughter died in the withering stare Sil offered.
“Tallah wasn’t there,” Vergil said.
“I hear they’re planning something big above,” the soldier—Vergil still hadn’t gotten his name—said from where he rested. “Some of the lads were talking. It’s why Cinder’s not joined the fight tonight.”
“Saving her strength?” Licia asked from her bed.
“What?” Arin answered while Sil worked on his other ear.
“I said—”
Vergil stopped paying attention. Whatever Tallah was planning would be terrible if she’d avoided a fight like this one. And it would be something desperate, given the casualties they’d taken.
He grinned ear to ear. Whatever the sorceress planned, he hoped there was a part in it for him. He’d earned it.