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Chapter 11: The New Order

“Something’s gone wrong,” Anthony said and looked up at the sky as if the dark clouds could tell him what it was. Instead, a few rain drops landed on his cheek. He touched the water with his finger and looked down at the wetness on his finger. “Are you sure that this is how we fix everything?”

He had only barely been onboard for Vimora. So many had died, but they had to die for him to get out. They just kept trying to stop him when they had no business and that had driven him into a rage. That rage had spawned the demon, calling it from a deep and dark place in his heart. The Reaper has culled the city and that was where he had left it. Now the reaper was gone like a candle blown out on a cake.

“No matter,” Malus said and waved a mental hand with a flick of a wrist. “I was expecting the Reaper to last a bit longer, but it did its job well enough. No one knows we escaped.”

It had been all too easy as the dead rose and killed everything within the walls in the night. Only those high up on the walls had been spared and had then become too occupied with the Templar army to even notice they were the sole survivors. It was during that confusion that Anthony, aided by Malus, had escaped.

A few others had gotten out as well. Malus made sure that all the slaves that had been kind to Jason made it out alive. The Reaper had let them be, bending to Malus’ undying will. Now they were out in the world, free and Jason had wanted to help more, but Malus assured him that there was nothing else that could be done without revealing that they had lived.

Now Anthony was on the back of a horse, whose mind had been taken by Malus to serve them. They rode north towards the border of Sacra where he would be able to enter the hermit kingdom since he was human.

“Why not Molamse?” Anthony had asked when he learned of their destination. “That’s where Janice is. If the stories are true, she could help us.”

“She is much safer there in that death pit than where we will be going,” Malus answered back. “We will go to her once we have everything we need.”

What they needed was material from Earth. Sounded crazy, but it was possible. Whenever heaven and hell moved to another world, leaving behind the last, some artifacts moved over as well. Usually keepsakes that angels or demons held onto. In this case, Vessius had brought as much of humanity as he could with him, an act that had him cast out of Heaven. This made items from earth not nearly as rare as it should have been, the only issue was that the humans guarded everything.

During his first attempt at a portal, Malus had been unable to penetrate into Sacra to find items. He had to scrounge the little had managed to find itself outside of the human kingdom. It had taken decades to gather enough for the portal, but with Anthony, he could accomplish that in a much shorter time and gather even more to make an even more stable portal.

They rode hard for days until the horse had simply called over dead from exhaustion. Normally, Anthony would have mourned the passing of the beast, but Malus’ influence was strong and so he merely sighed with a slight annoyance that he would need to walk now.

Normally, Malus would have contoured a small teleportation spell to move them much faster, but this close to Sacra and its sole ruler, Vessius, he couldn’t risk it. Vessius had been a powerful angel. He had built up a human empire once called Rome, watched over it. It was said that it had been one of the mightiest with armies that could wipe out much larger forces with ease. Who knew how much was true, but all rumors stemmed from some original truth and when Vessius had first arrived with his beloved humans to Medius, they had destroyed the Vermin empire with no trouble.

That had been many many years ago and Sacra had never marched beyond its borders since, but Malus had no doubt that Vessius wouldn’t let his people wane. They’d be just as dangerous now as they had been then.

It took a week of walking twenty hours a day to get to the border. Malus fed his energies slowly to Anthony to keep him going on minimal food and sleep. It was barely a trickle and not noticeable to anyone, but the most scrutinizing of gazes. There, he was met by the sight of what had kept Sacra so secluded, the Crag, an impassible series of canyons that went down for miles to a bottom filled with hogs and poison. There were only a handful of safe passages and all were heavily guarded by a series of massive forts.

“Halt!” A guard atop a watch tower yelled down to Anthony as he got close. The first fort, one of at least a dozen along this path, was about two miles away in the distance. The fort was towering. Walls a hundred feet tall and forty feet thick. It housed two thousand soldiers.

Anthony stopped walking and looked up at the guard atop the stone tower. He had to shield his eyes since the sun was peaking just over it.

“Who dares the border of Sacra and the people of Vessius?” The guard demanded and no doubt others were aiming bows and a new invention, crossbows at him. The guard wore segmented armor with red highlights, the same kind of armor they had when they first arrived.

If they fired, Malus would have to intervene and then he would force himself into the country and take what he wanted by force. It would be messier and much more dangerous, but entirely worth it if he succeeded, but right now, the guards saw a lone human.

“I- I barely escaped,” Anthony said in a timid voice that the guard had to lean and cup his ear to hear. “They tormented me.”

“What is your name,” the guard asked. There was authority in his voice, but no edge of threat to it. Humans automatically had the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m Anthony,” he answered. No need to lie about his name when they had no idea who he was in the first place. “I escape Vimora in the wake of Templar siege.”

“Vimora?” The guard looked behind him, talking to someone before turning back to him. “Stay right there.” He vanished into the tower.

“They’re going to let you in,” Malus spoke to Anthony and the human felt the rising excitement. He was getting excited as well. He constantly heard about Sacra and everything about it. It was supposed to be unlike anything in the world. Everything was rumored to be better.

The guard appeared again. “Move forward to Fort Syracuse.” He pointed to the fort. You can stay the night there and continue in the morning. It is not safe to pass at night.”

“Thank you,” Anthony clasped his hands together and gave a short bow. “Thank you so much.”

The guard waved him on.

The gates of the fort were steel and protected the thick wooden doors. When the fort was locked up, no battering ram would be able to break it down. The only way to attack would be to scale the walls since even those were too thick and strong to break down with siege equipment. Thousands would die before a hundred of the defenders did. Even if the fort fell, there was always another after it. Invasion was never on the mind of Sacra’s neighbors.

The gates opened for Anthony as he approached and inside, it was like a small town. Not only were there soldiers, there were their families and merchants to serve their every need. A bathhouse, steaming and filled, was at one end, hugging the base of the wall and was mirrored by a massive galley that gave off the smell of cooked meat. Tanneries, shops, metalsmiths, everything they needed was provided.

Once he entered, Anthony was escorted by a guard in light leather armor, a bow on his back, to what had to be the traveller’s lodge. It was mostly empty, few purposely traveled this close to the border and no nonhuman was ever granted access.

The room he was given was comfortable, a feather stuffed mattress and pillow with thick fur covers. He had his own bath that had a series of copper pipes that could, with a hand pump, bring hot water from a boiler down below. There was also already a plate of bread, a milky colored stew and some strips of salted pork waiting for him.

“I could get used to this.” Anthony walked over to the food and picked up a piece of pork. He smelled it and then tasted it. It was a bit tough, but flavorful, better than the food he had been living off of back in Vimora. “Still, nothing could beat mom’s pot roast.”

“You’ll have it again soon enough,” Malus promised. “Now that we are in, there is no rush. We will move to the capital, strangely enough, also called Sacra, an find what we need.”

That’s what they did. Eventually, at a more relaxed pace, Anthony reached the city and heart of Sacra. It looked just like Rome. There was even a coliseum as well. The roads were expertly paved where carts could go up one side and down the other while foot traffic was kept to the sidewalks. It was very much like a modern city. Good ideas were just universal.

In the city, Anthony stayed at poor houses at night, which were still nicer than any slave quarters. During the day, he would walk the city and try to get an idea of where artifacts from Earth would be. So much stuff looked like it was from Earth, but that was just due to the same kind of craftsmanship from Earth surviving. However, it became more and more likely that many of the artifacts would be kept in the Grand Library and heavily guarded.

Once, Anthony went into the Grand Library. He had managed to see some things, replicas if old Roman weapons and pots. The real ones were probably kept in storage somewhere. Shortly after, he had been politely asked to leave since Anthony did dress as a beggar. He left without complaint, he and Malus had seen what they needed to see.

“It will be fast,” Malus said. “I will take control for this because once we begin to take his precious belongings, Vessius will surely come out to stop us, so it will not matter if he knows I’m here. I actually would want him to know.”

With no desire for stealth anymore, Malus did what any arch demon would do when in the middle of a city. He called all of the lesser demons under his command.

It hit Sacra unaware. The city that had never experienced war before, the city whose armies were mostly manning the border, the city that was under the protection of a fallen angel, the city that burned. Tens of thousands of demons erupted from a dozen portals opened by Malus across the city. From there, they destroyed and killed.

With the distraction in place, Malus entered the library and broke into the vault at the back with ease. The guards were already dead and a pair of Malus’ most trusted lieutenants were there waiting for him.

They saw Anthony, but they knew that their master resided within and so they bowed.

“Master,” the one on the left, a big and brutish ox like creature except with scales instead of fur, spike first. His voice was surprisingly soft and well tuned, like singer’s voice.

“Baleric,” Malus grinned and patted the ox on the head. “My old and trusted friend.” He then turned to the other.

“Master,” It, that was all Anthony could think to call it. It resembled no animal. It stood on four legs that spouted out from its base, it had green leathery skin with patches of fur across its back that seemed too oily. It’s torso was long and its ribs, crooked and numerous, showed. From the torso, two gangly, double elbowed arms sprouted to end with four fingered hands. Its head was beaked with razor sharp teeth and had four pitch black eyes.

Anthony didn’t care to look at it that long, receding back into himself and letting Malus do the talking.

“Athnarak,” Malus nodded his head to the other.

“We knew you would return to us,” Athnarak, with the voice of smoker, said. “But to return to us here, in the heart of Sacra, you have outdone yourself. Truly so.”

“Truly so,” Baleric echoes and then added, “the legions of Sacra will soon regather and strike back. Our time here must be short.”

“It will be,” Malus assured them and then stepped passed them and into the vault where he could see everything he had wanted. Old swords, religious artifacts, chests, pots. It didn’t matter what the item was, as long as it was of earth. “Take it all,” he told them and many smaller demons ran in and began to greedily, but careful remove the contents of the vault.

It took only two minutes for the lesser demons to empty the vault of everything and scurry off to a portal, but it had only just been in time.

The ceiling came crashing down on them.

Malus lifted a hand and a barrier of smoke appeared, protecting him and most of his minions. A few were caught off guard and crushed as the entire building collapsed.

With a heave, Malus shoves the broken building off. The night was filled with fire and not just the burning city, an Angel cloaked in flame stood before them.

Vessius was a fallen angel. He had one wing of metal and it was rusted with many feathers broken or missing. He wore man made armor, segmented just like his people’s and held a pair of short swords that were engulfed in flames. He raised them.

“All I ever wanted was peace for my people,” he hissed and peeled his helmet off, revealing a handsome face with long blonde hair. “Was it too much to ask?”

Malus smiled. The despair of Vessius fed him. He dropped the shadow shield he had erected and without looking at his minions, gave them the command. “Kill him.”

A horde of small demons scurried forward with reckless abandon while the larger ones lumbered forward more cautiously. Baleric and Athnarak began to kite around the sides. Malus stayed back and watched with glee.

Vessius swing his sword at the first small demon, a ferret like creature with glowing yellow eyes. His sword didn’t even touch it, instead, the flames sent it flying in another direction, squealing in pain. Many more came after and many more met similar fates.

Vessius had been among the greatest swordsman in Heaven. Able to be surrounded at attacked from all angles and still cut every foe that came at him in two. He had the Divine’s gift of sight. He could see all around him at all times, but, for a small pinhole near the small of his back for not even angels were perfect beings.

Malus knew of this weakness because many millennia ago, Vessius, in a conversation with his followers had accidentally let loose a mere sentence of his flaw and that it had been overheard by a traveling scholar who put it to paper. Malus had come in possession of that paper when he had been collecting artifacts for his first portal. Now he watched for an opening long enough for him to strike.

The larger and stronger demons, able to take a hit, met Vessius. A towering living tree, filled with rot and muscle, swung at Vessius, but the angel side stepped out of the way. The branch of an arm slammed into the ground, smashing a few unfortunate small demons. The demon ent groaned with annoyance and swung with its other arm.

Vessius judged the attack and brought his sole wing up in an arcing slash. Though rusted and in disrepair, the heavenly wing was still deadly.

With a thunderous groan, the ent fell back, it’s arm amputated and spewing green ichor.

Vessius then lit the ent afire with his blades, stab in them into its base while he used his wings to disembowl a rabid, two headed dog that thought the angel had left itself to attack.

It was like a sadistic dance. The demons attacked and then the angel would parry and then return his own attack. Very rarely did a demon successfully parry or dodge an attack.

After a few more larger demons succumbed to Vessius, Malus gave his two lieutenants a nod. They had been just at the edge of the fight, never engaging, but watching. Malus had made them intelligent and cunning. He had poured time into their studies to ensure that the two would be worthy successors if he ever fell. It was something unheard of from a demon, but Malus wasn’t the average demon.

Baleric attacked first. He wielded a massive double blades war axe. With a bellow that would have shattered windows, he swung it.

For the first time since the fight had begun, Vessius was surprised as Baleric swung the mighty axe much faster than he should have been able to. The angel was just barely able to block the attack with his wings and even then, the metal of his feathers groaned and bent.

Seizing the moment, Athnarak attacked. Using two of his legs to stand, Athnarak stabbed his other two legs into the ground and a few moments later a set of spikes shot out of the ground under Vessius.

Vessius broke off from Baleric, letting his axe slide across his wings and into the ground. He then used his swords to slice the spikes inches before they would have pierced him.

The two demons pressed their attack. Baleric with his axe and Athnarak with his spikes from a distance. Yet, neither could land a hit on the angel who seemingly knew how to avoid all the attacks without showing any sign of concern or fatigue.

Malus kept watching. His eyes looking and waiting. And then...

Vessius twirled away from Baleric’s axe, barely avoiding a crippling blow that would have lopped off an arm and part of his torso while also jumping up to get out of the way of a new set of spikes. His wings were folded in and tight against his back. He would have landed a dozen meters away, but suddenly he jerked as a purple bolt of magic sticking through his chest.

Malus grinned as he stood straight from his throw. The bolt of corrupted magic had flown true and straight into Vessius’ blind spot where it priced straight through the angel. The fight was as good as done.

Vessius barely had time after he crashed to the ground before a swarm of demons jumped onto him. He swung his sword and flailed, but was unable to prevent his end. He screamed and shouted curses all the way till the end.

Anthony had mostly just watched the entire thing, a mild sense of amusement, part of Malus’ influence. Now though, with Malus so focused on the death of Vessius, his influence waned enough for Anthony to see what had really happened.

Vessius had been an angel, a being of good. The people of Sacra had been secluded and uninterested in the rest of the world. Neither had done Anthony any wrong and yet he had helped kill them all. Even if it was to gather materials to make a portal home, he had allowed Malus to go well beyond what was necessary. He hadn’t done a single thing.

“We should go,” Anthony said meekly. “I think we’ve done enough for tonight.”

Malus scoffed. “I’ve lost a lot of minions tonight and I need more. The citizens of Sacra will be nice additions.”

“No,” Anthony raised his voice, if such a thing was possible when talking from within his mind. “We’re not here to do that. We have what we want. Let’s go.” Anthony tried to regain control of his body. Normally he would be able to gain a handhold and then slide into control. There was no handhold this time. There was nothing for him to grasp. It wasn’t his body anymore. Instead, he felt himself being pulled back into the deep recesses of his mind and into a black fog. He tried to resist, to clamber away, but he couldn’t. Malus was too strong and too deeply seated now.

Anthony wasn’t sure what the last thing he saw was. It might have been Malus chuckling as he twisted his body into a grotesque form more suited to his liking, it might have been one last memory of Jason, pulled up as a comfort at the last moment.