Exodus, page 34
“When we get into the tunnel,” Simon said, “we’re going south. To the river. There should be a door.”
“If it hasn’t been mortared closed,” Mercer replied. “If a new dock hasn’t been built over it. If a ship’s not sitting on it.”
“Either way,” Wertham said, “we’re going to die. At least this gives us a chance.”
“You were supposed to be working on the door,” Mercer yelled.
“The door’s jammed,” Wertham said. “I think those people upstairs had had enough of us and locked us in. The door didn’t get opened under power. It’s a system of counterweights. It wouldn’t have taken much to sabotage it.”
“You shouldn’t have stopped trying,” Mercer yelled.
“I came down here to fight with my mates,” Wertham said.
“Shut up and hold the perimeter,” Derek said. “Get grenades ready.”
Simon looked around the room. They’d made a wall of dead demons, creating harsh ground to cross if the demons wanted to continue the fight. For the moment, the demons had backed off and were continuing to fire from a distance. The Templars proved their superior marksmanship, though, and it was evident that the demons’ only real edge lay in numbers.
“They’re massing to attack again,” Wertham said.
“Steady,” Derek said. “Hold the grenades till I tell you different, then we throw toward the mass of them.”
“What about the Cabalists?” Mercer growled.
Simon checked his HUD and saw that the Cabalists remained within the vault. The black man with the lizard-scale arm stood near the doorway. The woman stood at his side. The tall man hunkered on the other side of the opening. Few of them were left.
Something about the black man’s gaze bothered Simon, but there wasn’t time to think about it. The demons were massing and readying for another charge.
“Wertham?” Derek asked.
“I’m ready.” Wertham grabbed the body of a nearby dead demon and used it to smother the shaped charge. Two more bodies were quickly added. “Just to make sure the explosion heads in the right direction.”
“Grenades!” Derek yelled.
As one, the Templar threw the grenades, lobbing them into the mass of demons. Most of the creatures were too dull-witted or inexperienced to know what the grenades were, but there were some that dove for cover.
Simon threw himself flat, hugging the blood-covered floor. His heart pounded and he knew he needed to get himself in hand before the armor kicked in and controlled his fear for him.
“Wertham!” Derek shouted over the blasts. “Now!”
The grenades went off first, shooting out fierce blue light from the Greek Fire contained inside. Traditional grenades wouldn’t have done much, but the deadly concoction of chemicals in the Templar munitions did a great deal of damage.
Simon glanced up, his HUD automatically filtering the bright light. The detonations broke the demons’ ranks and hurled them in all directions. But several of them were on fire now, covered in a nimbus of blue-white flames that ate their flesh and cracked their bones. A Blood Angel went down like a blazing comet and didn’t move.
Then the shaped charge went off, blowing the bodies of the demons that Wertham had stacked atop it up against the ceiling. Simon felt the seismic reaction even through the armor. The floor shifted beneath him.
Checking the HUD, looking back without turning his head, Simon saw that a large hole had opened up in the floor. Smoke poured from the opening as pieces of demon dropped from the ceiling.
“We’re through,” Wertham said. “There’s a tunnel below.”
“Go!” Derek ordered. “Wertham, you’ve got point. Move!”
The demons gathered themselves and charged, obviously sensing that something had changed.
“Pistols,” Derek shouted. “Hold them off till we get clear. Fall back and withdraw.”
On his feet and firing, Simon noticed the gaping hole in the floor. The cargo tunnel was eight feet in diameter, providing plenty of room for a forklift to handle shipments leaving the factory for the warehouses. It was black as night inside, but night vision ripped the darkness away.
One by one, in quick succession, the Templar dropped down into the hole.
Derek turned to the Cabalists. “If you want out of here, now’s the time.”
The Cabalists fled. Two of the security men went down from the demons’ weapons, one hit by what looked like a bolt of lightning and the other engulfed in flames that left only his blackened shadow on the wall.
A female Templar next to Simon went down, part of the armor blown from her right leg. He helped her up and got her moving toward the hole.
Seize Balekor’s Hammer! Merihim’s voice thundered inside Warren’s head. Get it now!
Warren couldn’t believe the demon was demanding that now, when the other demons were rushing their position and escape was so close to hand. The Templar were trying to help save the Cabalists. Trying to get Balekor’s Hammer, even if he failed and he honestly didn’t know how he was going to succeed, was only going to turn the Templar against them.
Now! Merihim roared. Just lay your hand on the Hammer and I’ll do the rest. If you don’t you’ll never leave this place alive.
Pain smashed through Warren’s head, almost causing him to black out. He stumbled but managed to go forward. Naomi offered to help, but he brushed her away. Even that fleeting contact, though, must have hinted to her what he was about to attempt.
“No, Warren,” Naomi said. “You can’t—”
Then Warren was by her, charging toward the Templar with Balekor’s Hammer strapped over his back. The Templar must have sensed him coming, because he tried to turn around. Warren was quick, though, and he reached for the Hammer’s haft.
He closed his right hand around it and the contact was electric and powerful. Immediately the Hammer glowed with a phosphorus-bright intensity. Then a wave of force exploded from it, blowing the Templar away and leaving Warren standing there with the Hammer in hand.
Weapons fire from the demon guns hit all around him. He knew with the hammer in his hand and lit up by the glow that he was an immediate target. Before he could move, and he wasn’t sure if he could move, three bullets suddenly stopped in midair only inches from his chest. If they’d hit him, he had no doubt that they would have punched through his heart.
Warren gazed in wonder at the bullets, wondering if he had somehow stopped them. He hadn’t known he could blow the wall apart with a gesture either. The encounter with Merihim had changed him.
You didn’t do that, Merihim told him derisively. I saved you. And if you listen to me, I’ll always save you. I have marked you, Warren Schimmer, and you are mine.
The demon’s threat chilled Warren, but he felt comforted by it. The demon had claimed him. For all of his life, no one had ever told him they wanted him. No one had ever protected him.
He stared at the bullets as four more joined them. He was protected now.
Call my name, Merihim urged. Call my name so that I can come to you.
Holding the Hammer with both hands, Warren could “feel” the demon. Merihim was already getting closer. He could sense the demon’s proximity.
Call my name!
Lifting the Hammer, following the urge that squirmed through him, Warren shouted, “Merihim!”
Instantly, a purple, two-dimensional disc irised open in midair almost in front of him. Lightning stirred within the disc, occasionally erupting from it. The static electricity caused Naomi’s and Kelli’s hair to lift. Sonic booms cracked within and pealed out over the basement.
Warren felt like ants were crawling over his body. “Merihim!”
Incredibly, the demon started to crawl from within the disc.
Forty-Three
S imon pushed himself up. His senses still swam from the explosion that had occurred after the man had grabbed the hammer from Derek’s back. Despite the armor’s protection, he tasted blood in his mouth. His eyes focused on the shimmering purple disc as the demon began to crawl from it. The bullets frozen in midair before the man—His name is Warren. Simon remembered the woman Cabalist calling out his name just before Warren had lunged for the Hammer.
“Stop him!” Derek said. “Take the Hammer!”
There was something about the monstrous form of the demon that touched a well of fear inside Simon. The feeling was like nothing he’d ever known before. It was primitive and unstoppable, and it ran rampant through Simon. The last thing he wanted to do was approach the demon.
But only he and Derek were left aboveground. And Derek was struggling to get to his feet. His breathing sounded labored. As Derek forced himself up, Simon saw the broken shard of a demon’s spear that had been thrust into his stomach.
“Simon!”
Derek’s voice broke whatever spell was on Simon. He moved forward at once, but felt pressure immediately shoving him back. Now he understood why the bullets hung in the air. Arcane energies protected Warren.
Still pushing forward, Simon summoned his own arcane energy, aiming it like a weapon at Warren. When he had it strong enough, he fired it at Warren. Something rippled in the air between them.
Warren staggered back, his concentration shattered. The disc held its form, though, as the demon pushed through and into the basement.
When the pressure went away, Simon swung his sword, intending to knock the Hammer from Warren’s grip. Instead, Warren shifted. The blade caught him on the right wrist and sliced through.
Warren’s hand fell away from his wrist. Blood gushed from the horrible wound. Crying out shrilly, he dropped the Hammer and closed his other hand over the end of his maimed arm.
Simon felt bad about the turn of events, but he closed on the Hammer and lifted it from the floor. The bullets resumed their course and at least one of them struck Warren as he fell.
The disc imploded, but the arcane forces shot the demon from it like an inhuman cannonball. Before the demon went far, however, it stopped in midair and sank to its knees, obviously stunned. Its voice rose in ire and pain, and Simon knew he didn’t want to be there when it recovered.
The two women ran to Warren. The dark-haired one tended to his amputated wrist while the other one stood by him and held him with a wooden smile on her face.
Knowing the Cabalists weren’t friendly or even neutral, Simon abandoned them, following Derek down into the hole in the floor.
“Can you make it?” Simon asked when he landed on the floor beside Derek.
“I have to.” Derek straightened with effort. Blood ran down the front of his armor. “Give me the Hammer.”
Simon did, then accepted the explosives Derek handed him.
“Mine the tunnel,” Derek said, glancing back up at the hole. “The demons will be down on top of us as soon as they’ve finished with those people up there.”
Simon nodded and slung the explosives over his shoulder. They ran.
Only a short distance ahead, the tunnel curved, heading toward the river according to the map on Simon’s HUD. He stopped, inserted a detonator into one of the explosive blocks, and dropped the pack of explosives to the ground around the corner, hoping the curve would deflect some of the concussion.
Farther back up the tunnel, the first of the demons had started coming through the hole, dropping to all fours. They barked and growled, then lifted their weapons and started firing.
Dodging around the corner, Simon checked to make certain Derek was still moving under his own speed. “Wertham.”
“Yes?”
“Have you reached the other end of the tunnel? Is the way open?” Simon didn’t relish the idea of blasting the tunnel closed and effectively creating their own tomb. It was possible that they could somehow dig their way out, but he didn’t want to risk it.
“Give me a minute. Almost there.”
“Simon,” Derek called, “blow the tunnel.”
Footsteps, picked up by the armor’s enhancements, sounded in the tunnel around the corner. They were rapidly growing closer.
If the tunnel’s blocked, even if the tunnel’s not blown up and closed, we can’t get past the demons. They’ll kill us all. I’ll only be delaying—
“It’s here!” Wertham shouted. “We can get out!”
“Simon, blow—”
Using the armor’s systems, Simon detonated the explosives as the footsteps sounded right around the corner and he hurled himself forward. The concussion shivered through the tunnel, causing the floor to vibrate under Simon’s feet. Then it overtook him and blew him forward, enveloping him in a coil of yellow and orange flames.
He cut off my hand! Even as he stared at the bloody stump that truncated his arm, Warren couldn’t believe it. He’d been watching Merihim push out of the disc and hadn’t even seen the armored figure until it was too late.
There wasn’t as much pain as he thought there should be. In fact, there was hardly any pain at all. Merihim screaming inside his brain was worse. The demon was angry and hurting, roaring with rage as it got to its feet.
Naomi leaned over him, holding him down with her weight as she fought to wrap his wrist with the bootlace she’d taken from his boot. “Lie still! You’re going to bleed to death! Lie still!”
Warren didn’t care. Another horrible thing had happened to him because he couldn’t defend himself. Because no one cared enough about him to protect him. Chill weakness passed through him, stealing his strength and fading his vision. He continued to struggle, but he was too weak to fight against Naomi.
She got the bootlace tied around his wrist and somehow managed to stop the bleeding.
“Don’t,” he whispered. “Please, don’t.” He was ready to die. She didn’t know that, but he was. He was prepared now, while he was still in shock. He wasn’t afraid. Death could come for him now and he wouldn’t fight. He fumbled for the bootlace with his other hand, wanting to untie it and bleed out.
Naomi captured his hand. “Stop,” she said. “Please stop, Warren.”
“He cut my hand off!” Warren’s voice sounded weak in his ears.
“I know,” Naomi said. “I know. It’s going to be all right.”
“I’m a cripple!”
“You’re alive.”
Hot tears flooded Warren’s eyes. He didn’t want to be alive. He wanted to be dead. And he wanted the man who had crippled him to be dead too.
“Look out,” Tulane said. “Here they come.”
Warren barely noticed the approaching demons. Some of them had slipped down into the hole the armored men had blown through the floor. But the others closed on the Cabalists. There was no doubt what they had in mind.
One of the Darkspawn picked up Warren’s severed hand and grinned.
A Fetid Hulk, a great green demon that towered above the others and looked vaguely like an unfinished clay model of a human, snorted and slavered behind the Darkspawn. Smooth scales covered it. Its head was huge and monstrous, smooth and earless, showing off a large maw filled with sharp teeth.
Still grinning, the Darkspawn tossed Warren’s hand into the air. The Fetid Hulk’s head whipped forward on its elongated neck and caught the hand in its mouth.
“No!” Warren shouted, trying to get up again.
The Fetid Hulk chewed a couple of times, crunching through the bones, then swallowed. It gazed at Warren again, as if speculating where to start next.
The demons started forward, baring blades, obviously intending to make their kills on unprotected prey as personal as possible.
Merihim stepped between them. No, the demon said. These are mine. I claim them.
The demons grimaced and growled unhappily. Three of them started forward.
Merihim gestured at one of them with his great trident. The Gremlin started screaming and slapping at its head. In the next instant, the demon’s head burst like a blood-filled balloon.
The other demons drew back.
Go, Merihim told them. Pursue the others if you will, but leave these alone.
Reluctantly, the demons backed off.
Yes, Merihim said a moment later, the dead ones you can have.
The demons pounced on the corpses in a frantic scramble. The room filled with the smacking and crunching of their feeding.
Merihim turned to Warren. You let them take Balekor’s Hammer.
Warren didn’t reply. He only hoped that death would claim him quickly.
You’re not going to die, Merihim said. I still have use for you.
I can die if I want to, Warren thought. There’s nothing you can do. He could already feel his heart slowing and see that his vision was graying around the edges.
Merihim walked over to him.
Warren felt Naomi’s grip tighten on his arm and knew that she was afraid. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything.
Then the demon leaned down and placed his hand across Warren’s chest. Live, he commanded.
Without warning, electricity surged through Warren’s body. Only it wasn’t electricity. It was something else. Something more powerful and more ethereal. His heartbeat sped up again.
And pain returned to him in a huge wave that splintered all hope of dying. No one who was going to die could be in that much agony.
“My hand!” Warren yelled. Because everything he’d missed feeling earlier, he felt now.
Merihim picked up a nearby axe. I’m going to give you a gift. I expect you to use it well.
Barely holding on to his consciousness, Warren watched in horror as Merihim placed his own arm on the stone floor and chopped off his hand at the wrist. Blood stopped flowing almost immediately.
The demon never uttered a word. He tossed the axe aside and picked up the severed hand with his remaining one. Then he spoke in English, addressing Naomi. “Give him this or you will know my wrath.” He tossed the hand to her.
Naomi tried to grab the hand, but missed. Before it could fall, though, the fingers closed around her wrist and held on. She barely muffled a scream.
Merihim laughed and held up his stump. Black tendrils shot up from his wrist and twisted together. In seconds he’d grown another hand.
