Noctura flew at full gallop away from the bridge, Elanthe clutching the mare's mane. Chucks' orders to her had been unambiguous. At the first sign that the fight was on, she was to head to the village center and raise the alarm. His thought was that even a few minutes' warning should be enough for the militia to form. If they did, some of the villagers might survive the day.

  She had agreed to his plan but knew that it was pointless. The only hope lay in the two remaining counselors exercising their majority to confer the mantle upon Chuck that he so desperately needed. This was not a battle they could win. it was a battle they had to nullify.

  She'd tried to bolt the instant Krag roared, but Mum had wrapped her leg with his arm and produced parchment and quill out of thin air. As she struggled to shake him free, even pounding him on the head, he whipped up a one-page document and shoved it into her hand along with his quill and bottle of ink. "Get the two councilors on our side to sign, don't worry about Ignatz or the priest. We have what we need without them, but it has to be in writing. They have to sign."

  He released her leg and smacked Noctura in the flank, barely avoiding the kick that came in return. Elanthe almost slipped off when the horse reared and took off.

  "Don't worry about the militia, the paper is the key! Get the signatures and get back here!"

  Ten minutes. That's what it would take for her round trip. The four at the bridge would have to last for ten minutes. She pointed her steed down the road as the first sounds of the church bell reached her ears. Ten minutes was too long.

  Noctura's hooves hammered the dirt road, each stride carrying Elanthe closer to the village center. The mare's breath came in hot bursts synchronized with her long stride that ate up the distance. Elanthe clutched the parchment Mum had shoved into her hand, desperate to hold onto it even as she clutched Noctura's mane with both hands. She'd never ridden a galloping horse bareback before. Not when there was anything at stake, at least.

  Three teenage boys fled on the road ahead of her, running hell for leather away from the bridge. Smart lads.

  "Clear the road!" Elanthe shouted, pulling Noctura slightly left.

  The boys scattered before her, one diving into the ditch to get out of the way. Their mouths hung open as she passed. They did not see any of the characters they'd witnessed earlier that morning. There was no petite elf girl in a dress astride a scary black horse. The awe in their faces suggested they saw something else entirely—something that made them stare in astonishment as she galloped past.

  Elanthe didn't have time to wonder what glamour Noctura had woven around them, nor to wonder about her doing it to awakened minds. The village center came into view, and her heart sank. Men were running about the square, a disorganized mass of farmers clutching spears and billhooks, making it impossible to gallop through. Arthur stood in the middle, his voice carrying over the chaos. The church bell rang furiously in the distance.

  "Form up by squads! Come on, men! This is what we practice for!"

  Elanthe pushed Noctura through the crowd, shoving men out of the way as needed. Those who saw her moved out of the way quickly, and again she caught glimpses of wonder and fear on their faces. It made her uncomfortable to think of what terror they might be seeing.

  "Make way!" She didn't recognize her own voice. "Make way for Lord Chuck's messenger!"

  The crowd parted. Stefania stood near the inn’s boardwalk beside Franz, both still in their nightclothes. Stefania's eyes went wide when she saw Elanthe approach.

  Elanthe yanked Noctura to a stop and practically fell from her back, her legs shaking. She thrust the parchment at Stefania. If you value your village and your lives, sign this. Both of you. Now."

  Stefania grabbed the document. "What is it?"

  "It is formal approval by the council for Sir Chuck's protectorship," her words tumbled out. "His administrator says that you two have the authority to grant the mantle that he needs, but it has to be in writing, or the demons won't recognize it as valid."

  Franz leaned over Stefania's shoulder. "This is barely legible."

  "Legible enough!" Elanthe snatched the parchment back and smoothed it against Noctura's flank. "Before they all die, please," Elanthe finished quietly. "I'm begging you." Tears flowed down her cheeks.

  A distant crash rolled across the village like thunder. The militia fell silent. Arthur's weathered face went pale even as he pushed men into ranks, knowing what sort of horror might await his unprepared men.

  "We can't."

  "What? Even now, you dither? Is it not clear that Hell has come to Thornwell?" She felt a rage building in her that she'd never felt before. Were these people even worth saving? They wouldn't do the smallest thing to save themselves.

  "The council can't take any official action without at least three members present, and Ignatz died during the night, so our previous vote is no longer valid."

  * * *

  Krag held Vorghammul aloft with two hands while the other pair swept demons from his legs like a man brushing away gnats. Three more latched onto his lower left arm. He shook them off and crushed one beneath his foot, feeling the chitin crunch through his stone leg.

  "I am the sentinel," he said, his voice grinding like millstones. "I am the guardian of this bridge. It has been entrusted to me. You shall not pass."

  A barbed demon scuttled up his back, jabbing a stinger between what it thought were gaps in his stone skin. The weapon found no purchase—there were no weak points to be found in the granite from which Krag was made. Krag reached back, plucked the creature free, and hurled it into the creek. It howled once before being dispelled back to hell by the flowing water.

  Vorghammul roared and brought his axe down on Krag's wrist. The blade bit deep—a quarter inch into solid stone. Pain blazed up Krag's arm, the first real damage he'd taken in decades. The war-demon wrenched the axe free and struck again in the same spot. Another chip. Another flash of pain.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Krag swatted at the demons swarming his torso. They came in waves now, learning. A trio grabbed his right leg in a coordinated effort, pulling together. His foot slid backward an inch across the dirt, closer to the embankment. A couple of smaller demons darted past him onto the bridge. His captain would have to deal with those on his own.

  Krag planted his other foot and squeezed Vorghammul harder. The war-demon's armor creaked. His axe fell away as he clawed at Krag's fingers with both hands.

  "I am stone of the earth. You cannot break me," Krag announced.

  Two more demons climbed his back. One wrapped around his neck from behind, trying to choke him. Krag didn't breathe, so the attempt was pointless, but the weight pulled his head backward. He reached up with his free hand and crushed the demon's skull, then peeled the corpse away and dropped it.

  Vorghammul reached towards his axe and it flew into his hand. The blade whistled through the air and crashed into Krag's damaged wrist again. This time it sank deeper—half an inch. Cracks spiderwebbed from the impact point, glowing faintly in the dawn light.

  The swarm on his legs grew. A dozen demons now, maybe more. They wrapped themselves around his ankles, pushed and pulled in synchronized heaves. His feet carved furrows in the earth as they pushed him backward, even as he crushed their bodies. Six inches. A foot.

  Krag tightened his grip on Vorghammul until the war-demon screamed. He lifted his right leg—demons and all—and brought it down like a hammer. The earth shook. More demons were flattened. The others scattered for a brief moment.

  They launched themselves at his lifted leg and pushed it back so that when it found the ground again, it was at the edge of the embankment. More slipped past him onto the bridge.

  A winged demon dove at his eyes, talons extended. Krag turned his head, and it scraped harmlessly across his brow, leaving white scratches in the stone. Another latched onto his damaged wrist, gnawing at the cracks Vorghammul had created. Demonic teeth broke even as they carved away at the weakened joint. He threw it off with disdain.

  The axe fell again. And again. Each impact sent chips of granite flying. Each blow drove deeper into Krag's wrist, widening the wound.

  His grip on Vorghammul weakened. The war-demon felt it and grinned through his pain.

  "Not so mighty now, are you, gargoyle?"

  "Mighty enough." Krag slammed Vorghammul into the ground hard enough to leave a crater. The war-demon bounced, gasping, and crawled away, out of reach of the stone monster.

  The swarm covered Krag's lower half now, a writhing mass of claws and teeth and stingers. They stabbed uselessly at his stone skin. They wrapped their bodies around his legs and continued to shift him away from the bridge. It looked like ants attacking something many times their own size.

  They pulled.

  Krag took a step backward.

  They pushed.

  Another step.

  For all his strength, it wouldn't be long before they had him in the creek.

  * * *

  Steel squished into flesh as I traded blows with a three-armed demon shaped like a walking starfish. Well, they may have been arms. Or legs. I was having a hard time telling them apart. It was a starfish, for crying out loud. My mace squelched against one limb, and the thing shrieked before rotating it away from me. I had to admit, it was a neat party trick.

  "Your footwork is terrible!" Calista shouted somewhere behind me.

  I spun to find her pressed by four demons—not attacking her, exactly. More like... showing off? A scaled brute with tusks flexed his arms before swinging his club at her head. She ducked and drove her sword through his knee.

  "And honestly, that physique? You've clearly been skipping leg day for centuries."

  The demon howled and staggered. Another rushed in to take his place, this one lean and wolfish, moving with obvious precision.

  "Better form," Calista admitted, his claws throwing sparks as they raked against her chainmail. "Still second-rate compared to—look out!"

  I barely got out of the way of a barrel-chested monstrosity that ran past me, making straight for her. I tried to intercept, but the starfish wasn't having any of it. I smashed one of its legs, and it rotated again, so now it had two legs and one arm. I still couldn't tell them apart.

  By the time I looked up, six demons had formed a loose circle around Calista. They weren't coordinating their attacks. Had they done so they'd have dragged her down in seconds. One would lunge, she'd critique his stance and deliver a cut or stab, and another two would be shoving each other out of the way so that they could have the next turn. They were doing as much damage to each other as she was.

  "I've seen better muscle definition on a scarecrow," she said, sliding between a pair. Her saber flicked out, opening a gash across one demon's chest. "And that windup? I could have knitted a sweater in the time it took you to swing. Pathetic."

  I smashed the starfish's last arm, expecting that it would be enough to get it to finally retreat. Instead, the stupid thing began bouncing on one leg like a pogo stick and trying to beat me with the other.

  I looked over at Calista, amazed that she hadn't been swarmed and dragged down yet. Sweet merciful hell, I figured it out. The dumb bastards were trying to impress a succubus while fighting her. Despite being covered in green icky ichor, she was still amazingly sexy.

  Focus, boy-o. Focus.

  "Captain!" Calista's voice carried a hint of actual concern now. They had her pinned against the parapet so that she couldn't dance away from them anymore.

  I managed to land a blow on the starfish's core and dropped it, finally. I shifted and mashed the skull of one of Calista's attackers from behind. He never saw it coming, which I knew from experience was the best way to win a fight. I reared back for a second strike when a massive hand caught my backplate and lifted me off my feet. Vorghammul's lieutenant, missing half his face from where Krag had swatted him. He threw me backward towards the north end of the bridge, where I hit the stones hard enough to see stars.

  I rolled and came up ready to charge back in, but I'd lost sight of Calista in the press of bodies.

  "Your technique is adequate at best!" Her voice rang clear. "And I've trained militia members with more raw power than—"

  A crash. A shriek. She was gone.

  "Calista!"

  The demons around her position suddenly scattered, diving over the side of the bridge to save her. It turns out that demons are no smarter when dealing with hot chicks than high school boys. If I lived through the day, I'd put that to good use somehow.

  I reached the railing in time to see her hit the creek twenty feet below, the current already dragging her downstream. Four demons hit the water around her, their claws reaching.

  Then she was gone. Just... poof. Vanished without even leaving a ripple. The river was deep enough to drown in, but even allowing for the weight of the metal she was wearing I didn't believe it was possible. I said a silent prayer that she was transported somewhere and not killed. To whom I prayed, I'm not sure. I just hoped someone was listening.

  The demons who'd jumped in thrashed around, calling out, still trying to find her even as they disappeared as well.

  "Courage, My Lord." It was Mum, standing behind me a few feet. He looked smug. Confident even. The guy was smoking a cigar as usual, for Lightsakes, and his hand was rock steady. "Just hold out for a few more minutes. You've already won. When Elanthe gets back, they'll have to back down."

  Something cold settled in my gut. All I had left was Krag, and they were moving him by sheer weight of numbers. I didn't have time for Elanthe to get back. Once he fell, I wouldn't have sixty seconds to live. Then again, I might not even have that long.

  Vorghammul's lieutenant smiled at me, mouth full of fangs, as if picking up on my despair. I resolved that at least I'd make sure that his next smile was minus teeth and took a step forward.

  ?? Even gods need to be held sometimes

  What to Expect:

  - An epic, multi-book space opera with a large found family and multiple POVs.

  - A powerful but emotionally vulnerable protagonist with chaotic powers he struggles to control.

  - Strong, capable, and sometimes morally gray women.

  - High stakes, cosmic threats, and detailed world-building.

  What NOT to Expect:

  - LitRPG/System elements

  - Lone wolf power fantasy

  - A story that is only about romance

  This story contains mature themes, explicit sexual content, and graphic violence. It is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.

  90+ Chapters in the first month

  500,000+ words already written and backlogged