They were everywhere. They were creatures of stygian skin, nearly twelve feet tall each. Their mouths opened wide in a united roar that had the children crying and the people running.
They walked on all four limbs, and their tongues licked their set of mammoth sharp teeth. Familiar dark slime dripped off their jaws. Saliva, or whatever the hell that was.
They were different from the monsters of the West.
They were creatures made of darkness.
They were Hell.
It was instinct for her to charge at the creature ripping apart a woman. The crowd ran in a tumbling mess, away from the dance floor. They made for the exits. The soldiers took their positions. And somewhere behind, she knew Abraham was following.
She was glad for the daggers that were strapped around her thigh and calves. She drew a dagger from her pocket and her immediate action was to cut off half of her skirts. Somewhere in the corner of her heart, a muscle ached but she would never be able to fight with skirts that long. Then her impractical shoes were discarded.
Standing before the creature, she realized just how ginormous and threatening it was. The creature roared again, and some of its saliva landed on her. The woman lay dead at her feet.
She had grown wings, ducking and leaping as it attacked with its clawed forelimbs. She hurled her first dagger at its thickset neck. It did not find mark. Upon striking, it bounced off its leather-like skin. Simply daggers would not work. This required a long-sword being driven with great force.
It struck. Again. Again.
It managed to draw blood from her cheeks when its horny skin rubbed against hers. She did not waste her breath or her daggers. These creatures were large, but not agile.
With quick movements, she threw another dagger which found its mark in its depthless black eye. The creature screeched. She took the advantage of its pain in flinging herself towards its hindlimbs. She drew two daggers strapped across her calves.
And she stuck them into its inch-thick hide. It reared in convulsion.
Her daggers had become her own makeshift pitons, as she climbed. The creature was driven crazy as she drove her daggers into its flesh, her teeth gritted.
She moved efficiently, managing to toss herself on its back. It was hard to stay in place, especially when the creature kept throwing its forelimbs in a frenzy, to get her off its back. But she held willfully onto the great prongs of its back, drawing herself forward until she was seated on its strong neck.
She leaned forward, just missing its claws, driving another dagger into its remaining eye—completely blinding it. It screeched in agony, almost throwing her off. She drove her final weapon into its neck, but a single small blade would not suffice. The creature had started to move around crazed, attempting to get her off its back. She had to kill before it could trample anyone.
She eyed the soldier at the feet of the creature, who was shivering in fear, trying to make an impact on it in some way. With that weak grip, and heart, that would not be possible.
She whistled at him, drawing his attention. She mouthed, sword.
He understood her message in an instant, his eyes widening. He took a few careful steps behind, and with trembling hands aimed his sword in Faith's direction. If it had missed her palm, she would've impaled him. But the hilt of the sword found her palms, and she wrapped both her hands around it. And with all the strength in her body she plunged it into the nucleus of its neck.
This was the final blow, for it collapsed. She held on, but the prongs dug into her thighs, wounding her.
She would've celebrated her victory, if she had not been aware of the havoc around her. As she quickly drew herself away from its burning, disintegrating body, she was surrounded by more.
She charged at them, her sword swinging in a rhythmic dance.
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"These creatures are from Hell." Tana was telling him as they ran, "You must've heard of demons." She spoke in gasps and he had a feeling she wasn't much of a warrior.
"Demons?" Everything she was telling him was really just going over his head. Amongst the citizens gathered here there were some very important people—Kings, Queens, nobles. He was only concerned about securing the safety of his people.
"Yes, there must be a portal here—they—" He grabbed her as quick as he could, shielding her from the claws of those nasty demons. The price of such protection was a scarred back of his own. The wound was deep and he would have to be treated as soon as possible.
The demon was behind him, but he didn't give it a glance. Instead he scooped up the Princess in his arms, running. He had to find her a safe place for hiding, and she would only slow him down. The demon did not follow, and he glanced behind then, to see Abraham Reaper have drawn his sword.
Somewhere he was vaguely aware of Faith holding her own. Amidst such chaos, the jabbing pain of his back slowed him down little.
He set her down behind one of those divans.
"You should've come to me earlier, Princess." He said shedding his already torn jacket.
"I had no way of predicting this attack, Your Highness." She told him and he knew she was still seeing her forty six dead soldiers. "But these are the Vannuth from lower Hell. They are creatures ruled over by Prince Sloth, so they are rather easier to kill." She paused and he knew she sensed the impatience and confusion in his eyes. "I will tell you later. Go, now."
They both turned their heads towards the front doors of the Great Hall, where people had crowded, causing much commotion. They shouted their pleas to be let out. His men were smarter, they held their ground. But if they were to open the doors then these demons would reach the streets of Orlon. Seven Princes of Hell, it would be a massacre. He swore beneath his breath when he saw a demon approach the dozens of people stacked up against the door that was about to give in.
He would not have these creatures harm his people.
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She hated hiding. But Faith had left her here, with Princess Tana Khaos when she had attempted to join the battle. She had to admit she was not made for the battlefields, but for the Court. But she loathed feeling this incompetent and pointless.
Hidden behind these cushions, she often heard the screams of her dying people. Grunts of the fighting. And smelt the coppery tang of blood in the air. She would have gone insane if Tana had not engaged her in conversation. Serria was still trying to process everything the Princess had told her.
For some reason, portals had been unlocked in our realm—portals from Hell. For as long as they would remain open, demons would pass through. And even when they closed, the otherworldly creatures would remain in our realm, the mortal realm. The smaller the portals, the less powerful the demons that were bound to enter. These were Vannuth of the Lower Hell, ruled over by Prince Sloth—one of the Seven Princes of Hell. Serria had shivered remembering the slaughtered men that had been sent to the morgue—what had killed them was still on the loose then.
"We are in luck tonight, Your Highness,"
Tana said now, "for the portal that has opened tonight has been insignificant enough to only allow the Vannuth to cross over." Serria did not find this comforting, nor would she call this insignificant.
"Where do I find this portal?" She said, desperately wanting to help.
"There is no way of knowing, Your Highness." She replied. "Though, it is always close by."
"Is there a way of closing it?" Her questions were all in vain: Tana shook her head again.
"I came across this knowledge only recently myself when my own men were murdered at the hands of Vannuth such as these." She continued, "If there is a way, I am completely unaware." So they had to wait until the portal closed on its own. And when was that? Was there any assurance that they would not be corpses until then?
"I must go." Serria said, unable to bear the weight of her thoughts. "My people are dying." She was stopped by Tana before she could even get up. She glanced down at the delicate fingers that were wrapped around her wrist. "Before you go, I have something I must give you." Tana said, her words nearly a whisper.
Serria looked at her questioningly as she fished out a token-sized golden case from her pocket. She unfastened a latch to reveal an almost moon-like powdery substance.
"What is this?" But Tana was quick to smear a thumb of it across her forehead.
"It is a blessing of the constellation that rules our lands, Lord Kailas." She said, "It is for protection."
Serria smiled, sensing the beginning of a new friendship.