Page 29 of Moonlit Guardians
Baron uses his shadows to move swiftly through the fray, leaving behind a trail of gutted corpses. I see an opening and lurch through. I knock goblins out of my way as they snap their jaws at me. Pyre begins to shoot down anything that blocks my advances towards the Hall of Clans.
Demons.
Large demons charge in my direction only to be dropped by Pyre’s arrows. I blow him a kiss and race towards the doors as he gives me a silent nod of approval.
The moment I step through the door, a battalion of Unseelie stand before me. They raise their weapons and demand my surrender. I can’t help but smile as I toss my dagger. It strikes one of the soldiers in the chest and he lets out a tortured howl. Two soldiers attack me at once, but I evade the first and take a harsh blow to the ribs from the second. I roll when I hit theground and run towards one of the open archways. Spears fly through the air and imbed themselves in the wall behind me, just inches from my head.
“Surrender to the king!” they shout in unison.
I duck behind a column for cover.
And just beside me, a soldier materializes from the air and stabs me in the shoulder. The wound burns fiercely before it fills me with unbearable cold. My lips turn blue as I gasp for air. When he comes in for the killing blow, I hoist my hands up at him and thrust my energy at him. The Unseelie is taken aback when my power throws him off his feet. Taking a deep breath, I rip the knife from my shoulder and use it to stab another soldier.
Frost drake blood is often used to create potent venoms to lace weapons and that’s exactly what was covering the blade. Baron often carries a vial or two in his pouches. I recognize the unsettling sensation immediately as it slows my movements.
My back aches as I lean against the column. I can’t stay here forever.
I lay my hand over the wound in my shoulder and the familiar crimson smoke fills the hole. I search deep inside for the pain that still lingers and I leech it from my blood. The sound of footsteps come from my right. I spin around and channel the pain into the Unseelie soldier. He stumbles back with a startled expression on his face. The others look on in horror. I use their shock as a distraction and reach towards the ancient weapons that King Galmer displays in the walls. They tremble as my magic weaves itself around each blade, hammer, and spear. When the soldiers charge me once more, the weapons fly off the wall and pin them to the floor.
Blood pools all around them, soaking my boots. Finally, the way ahead is clear. I don’t know how long it will last as dark creatures continue to spill into the stronghold. I summon my courage and hurry towards the staircase that leads to KingGalmer’s quarters. It’s the only way to access the roof of the Hall of Clans. The door at the top of the stairs bows outward before rippling. I touch my hand to the wood gingerly before yanking it back. The tips of my fingers are blackened with magical residue.
The sound of scraping claws and shrill cackling reaches my ears.
The fight isn’t over.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CAMBION
Mercenary Stronghold
The beaker cracks and sizzles. Liquid pours onto my hands and I toss yet another failed experiment into the refuse pile. Zir doesn’t seem to be making much progress either as we stretch our minds to the limit to find solutions for the…
BOOM!
The sound is deafening. Dust falls from the ceiling. I drop to the ground as the mortal realm quakes beneath a relentless force. Zir climbs to her feet first and helps me to mine. We hurry to the ladder at the far end of her lab that leads back to the streets.
Noni runs right into my legs. A hobgoblin toddles along beside her. The house brownie bounces up and down, gripping my pants tightly.
“Mr. Cambion! Mr. Cambion! The Stronghold is under attack. Master and the others are fighting. Noni no find Mr. Flumph!”
I drop to my knees and lift Noni into my arms. The hobgoblin climbs me like a tree without invitation. I recognize him as Bombri, the assistant of the head scribe at the archives. His job is to keep track of all history pertaining to the ancient humans. Instead, he spends most of his time adapting to their old habits. The hobgoblin perches on my back and strikes a match to light a tobacco roll hanging off his lip.
“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything!” the little creature squeals.
He has tiny eyes and a hook nose. Bombri’s thick eyebrows cover most the top half of his face while the other half is dominated by a protruding chin. His body is slender, but his feetare much larger than any normal hobgoblin’s. Jagged teeth—stained with whatever he last ate—flash as he speaks above Noni.
“There I was minding my own business in the tombs, when all of a sudden, I hear a low growl. It stops me in my tracks and I’m shitting myself at this point.”
“Get to it,” I demand.
“Fine. Fine. That was when I saw the ass end of something out of my nightmares. You ever see that 2004 Hellboy movie? Not good, not bad, but just sorta meh.”
“No, seeing as it doesn’t exist anymore.”
“I have a copy in my room next to the stack of yellowed nudie mags I found in the archives,” Bombri snickers. “Anyway. There’s this freaky demon in the movie. It’s sorta blue with a bunch of spidery eyeballs and tentacle things. It’s real ugly and probably smells worse than Flumph after that bean stew the cooks make. Anyway, the thing is unkillable and can regenerate.”
“How is that relevant?”
