Capricorn's Midnight Clock: The Zodiac Book 10, page 28
Beelzebub scowled. "You petulant, disrespectful gnat."
"What's wrong? You realize I'm correct? Be quick. Everyone's watching."
I could almost feel the entire battlefield holding its breath. Thousands of eyes locked on our interaction.
"Fine. But when I'm done with you. I want you to know that I'll finish what I started here. Every last one of these insects will burn."
I wagged my finger at him, knowing Beelzebub had a genuine issue with my lack of deference for him. "You're going to have a problem with that, you realize? Even if you get lucky and kill me, the Upperworld will have some questions for you."
"Let them."
Beelzebub shoved the nearest mortal family aside. He stepped through the line of humans too frightened to get out of the way.
Inside my shield, I was protected from the ring of fire that burst to life around me. I felt the Abilities being pulled on. Beelzebub hadn't given the fight five seconds before he cheated. Not a shocker. I'd anticipated it because I sensed several Fire users contributing to the spell. Already strained, stress cracks formed in spots on my shield, above and around me. My shield would hold for a while still.
A roar went up as my forces swept down from the ridge like an avalanche.
I couldn't witness the counterattack and rescue mission. Beelzebub charged as the shield was pummeled by fireballs, streams of roaring flames, and what looked to be a giant hammer of fire.
I did the smartest thing I could in that moment as he closed in. I pushed more Hellfire into the shield. Though it would tire me out more quickly, my time was limited. Capricorn's counter-Clock was still working, but not influencing this part of the battle. Enhanced, I pushed the shield out and away.
Beelzebub was so focused on his charge, he didn't notice that by expanding the shield, I'd included him. He didn't notice until he was already inside it.
I lifted Creed, stabbing backward into a succubus assisting the giant. I felt my halberd penetrate her gut right before she exploded into a cloud of dust. I spun, slicing the head off an incubus. Before his body fell, he too was a cloud.
I spun on Beelzebub, aiming Creed's double ax head. "Time to die!"
Beelzebub had been caught by surprise, but he had the numbers inside this shield. While I was spinning Creed to deflect attacks from the four demons, he created a haymaker wrapped in flames. A concussive shiver went through me as it slammed into my mini-shield. The impact sent me skidding backward through the sand as I struggled for purchase.
Gaining your balance is difficult on a sandy surface. Sand piled upon sand, an indeterminable depth, didn't make any of this easier. The fact that five demons ganged up on me made it nearly impossible. But somehow, I finally got a good foundation under me. My choices had been stripped away. My forces were fully engaged with Beelzebub's. In order to gain the upper hand, I had to do something drastic. Even more drastic than what I'd already done. Something I didn't want to do. I dropped the shield around me and concentrated my power.
I killed two of the four assisting Beelzebub. But the giant came at me with raw, brutal force. He wouldn't know finesse if he had hair, and it needed a wash. What he lacked in technique, he made up for in sheer power. I expected that from Beelzebub; that was his modus operandi. Had been since I'd known him. Each punch landed with enough energy to level a house. His fire attacks turned spots of the desert to glass.
Light on my feet and three times faster than he could hope to be in his prime, I danced around his attacks. I kept Creed spinning whenever I wasn't leveling it at his forces or him. The problem was that every time I tried to press, one of his demons fired a spell that forced me to go on the defensive.
I needed to press the attack. I didn't expect Beelzebub to fight fairly. That wasn't his style. But it came at a cost. I had to press him, and in doing so I had to do something I didn't want. I had to become more like him.
Hellfire roared on Creed's blades. The haft was illuminated in beautiful, glorious, violent azure. I jumped into my attack, carving and cleaving with abandon. I tore through the last pair defending Beelzebub. I turned on him and saw he was firing attacks while weaving his way deeper into his ranks. Those he pushed forward were soldiers. They threw every type of demonic spell at me. Where Creed's shield didn't deflect their attacks, my forces stunted them. We had just enough force to keep him scrambling any time I focused on him.
As he fired off spells and weaved behind his soldiers, I pressed forward. At this speed, picking out mortals from demons was tricky, and my progress slowed. Every time I rid the Overworld of one of his demons, he got fifteen feet farther away, still firing and putting mortals and my soldiers at risk. Something had to change.
I had the time this out perfectly or it wouldn't work. But being accurate in time and space between constant attempts on my life was as difficult as it sounds. Essentially, moving toward Beelzebub wasn't working in my favor. I was spending too much energy being on guard. When I dropped back to fend off the tsunami of attacks, I was better able to track the giant through the crowd. Beelzebub didn't seem interested or concerned about the number of losses his side was taking.
Maybe he'd be concerned when I got his attention.
I held Creed's spinning shield until the right opportunity. A combination of factors went into my execution. The lack of mortals in harm's way and my ability to stay alive long enough to execute.
Lowering Creed, I cut a swath through Beelzebub's forces. I couldn't be sure how many fell, but the cost in demonic lives was high.
Beelzebub must have sensed my move, because at the last second he swerved to his left.
I cut off the Hellfire, not wanting to do damage beyond my target. Instead, I switched tactics. Anticipating Beelzebub's momentum carrying him forward, I opened a Gateway in front of him and sprinted toward it.
Beelzebub fell through. I was only steps behind.
I tumbled onto the dried, cracked brimstone that was so dehydrated it was turning pale. Almost like the sands of Syria we'd just been fighting on. A much larger incubus, Beelzebub was just now pushing himself to his feet, staring around at the stadium rising around us in confusion. Eighty feet of blood-red walls adorned with carvings depicting battle scenes. Scenes he should be familiar with since he was the Founder who'd commissioned the work. I almost sneezed at the amount of dust in the air.
"Clever, Sunstone," he said with a sneer. "Fruitless, but clever."
It didn't take long to understand what he was talking about. Hundreds of demons emerged from the stadium's entrances. A reminder that Beelzebub had tens of thousands of soldiers at his disposal at any instant. Of course he would have planned an escape route that was reinforced with demons allied to him.
The arena filled with his reserves. Demons who'd been instructed to wait for this exact moment.
"Your youthful exuberance walked you into this trap," he said. "So easy. You'll have to admit at some point that you weren't cut out to be Lucifer."
The rough, scratching sensations of Fire magic were immediate. Hundreds of demons casting simultaneously. The air ignited in waves of flame converged, all pointed at me.
I threw up the largest shield I could in the circumstances. Size, not thickness, mattered. There's a joke in there somewhere, I'm sure, but I was too busy focusing on my preservation tactics.
Beelzebub's assault was immediate and overwhelming. Fire abilities, Construction spells that tried to tear my defenses apart, Water magic that created clouds of super-heated steam that thinned my shield, and even traces of Hex magic that made my skin crawl.
"The Underworld deserves better than you," Beelzebub spat. "You think too small. Because you're a small imp. Insignificant."
My shield withstood, but barely. Cracks were forming along its surface. I could feel exhaustion wrapping around every muscle and tendon in my being. My head swam with exertion. A headache was coming on. I was barely maintaining the barrier. Like putting out a forest fire with a squirt gun.
I looked around at the empty stands circling the stadium floor. At sharp, angular blocks that rose into the Seventh Circle's sky. At the red and black banners that snapped in the wind. No civilians inside this famous stadium. Only thousands of soldiers, a single tyrant, and the savior of demonkind.
Before he could deploy his next killing blow, I dropped the shield and poured every ounce of the power I could summon into my preventative counter. Beelzebub opened a Gateway before diving through it and zipped it closed. But I wasn't to be stopped. There had to be at least ten thousand demons in this space.
I released my spell. Not a directed blast. Not a focused beam. This was a pure expression of destructive force. Me at my core, filled with the frustrations of dealing with Beelzebub for years. Remembering all the crimes against demons across the Underworld he committed. The trauma he'd inflicted on innocent mortals in Olympia when he attacked a women's clinic. This wasn't about redemption. This was about revenge. I pushed the blast out. It radiated from my position like a miniature Overworld sun.
The azure flames were not sent to burn, but to consume. They tore through the ranks, eating demonic flesh as it flashed across the sand floor. Demons didn't live long enough to scream. The air was filled with ash. My spell ate through the stadium supports when it reached them. Thick cracks splintered up the supports, arcing like lightning. The flames turned the iron fixtures into puddles of slag. Beelzebub's precious carved battle scenes were wiped clean like chalk from a schoolhouse board.
"Call me boy again!" I roared, pushing more Hellfire into the spell, pushing past my boundaries. My control. Primal.
The explosion was magnificent. Erupting in towers at every corner of the stadium, arcing into the sky. They rose up, up, up. Then I brought them crashing back down in four plummeting bombardments. Each struck a distinct part of the stands, blasting boulders of rock in every direction. Damage limitation wasn't contained to Beelzebub's former grounds of glory. Without the support beams, the stands crumbled. Cracking and stabbing at first before becoming a thunder of falling stone.
I opened a Gateway as brown dust blossomed, blotting out the Hellfire from above. I jumped back through, back to Syria. Already, I was forgetting the last visions of the colossal stadium crumbling into itself and the ten thousand lives I'd just taken.
When I got my bearings, I lost count of the number of Gateways forming a half-ring around Beelzebub's forces. A mass exodus of evil. Below me, my army fought those who couldn't get away, but too many already were.
I growled as my chest heaved.
We'd won. Not just the battle, but something more important. We'd save innocent lives. They'd never thank us because they'd never believe the events of this day, even though they had first-hand experience. More important than that, I'd sent a clear message to Beelzebub, Seraph, and Michael about what happened when they dared rebel against me. A statement about their dark future.
A battle won, a war to be won.
31
OVERWORLD, SYRIA
Once again, I was frustrated. Pretty typical for me when it came to just about anything. That Beelzebub used every trick at his disposal to avoid facing my justified wrath only reinforced this mindset. My situation might be unique, but my mood seemed to be shared by hundreds of demons.
The silence that followed the battle against Beelzebub's forces weighed on me. I could feel every disappointed breath. Every pained groan of the injured. Far heavier than anything were thoughts of the Exiles and Forgotten Ones who no longer drew breath.
No more clash of steel. No more roar of Fire or rumble of Water Abilities. All I could hear were soft moans of the wounded and the eternal quiet of the dead.
I wanted to comfort the survivors. I really did. This was the Overworld, the realm where immortal beings such as ourselves could die sudden and tragic deaths. So unlike the Underworld. These fighters knew the risks, but they gladly accepted them to fight for our cause. But none of that muted the pain we now shared.
I watched my forces subdue Beelzebub's demons who didn't make it through the Founder's Rifts before they closed. They surrendered en masse. The few who put up a fight were dealt with swiftly. Amazing that he still had demons who wanted to fight. When he'd fled, Beelzebub contributed to the breaking of their spirits for most of his soldiers. They'd fallen fast. A few stubborn had remained, and we'd use them for our aims. There are always those.
We'd accomplished what we came for. The mortal refugees were safe, evacuated by Ralrek. A success, but only by that measure. The experience wouldn't leave them for years to come, if ever. In the end, we'd won, but it didn't feel like a victory.
"Zeke." Ralrek's voice. Shaking me out of my cloudy perspective. He sounded exhausted. I turned to look at my friend, struck by his torn shirt and bloody jeans. One sleeve was missing. Two blotches of blood stained his face, dried by the ash of the fires. "We need to talk."
"Yes," I croaked. I knew what he was going to tell me. News I didn't want to hear, but news I had to hear. "How many?"
Ralrek's chin dropped toward his chest. "Sixty-six. Another twenty-three wounded. Some critically. Most were Exiles, but we lost thirteen Forgotten Ones too."
The air grew heavier, supplemented by my guilt. Sixty-six demons who'd followed me into the fight. Sixty-six lives ended because I'd chosen to challenge Beelzebub without considering alternatives. Still standing on this ridge overlooking the quieting battlefield, I couldn't think of what would have qualified as an alternative. A more experienced Lucifer would have found one.
"Their names?"
Confusion flickered across Ralrek's face. He cleared his throat. "We'll get you the full list." He drifted closer, standing beside me, looking out over the sand. We shared a quiet moment before he said, "Everyone wanted to be here, Zeke. We knew the risks. They wanted to do what was right."
Was that true, though? Did they understand everything they'd be facing before setting out? How could they? They were demons. I could have spent hundreds of hours in a classroom, teaching them the consequences of dying in the Overworld, but could they truly understand it without experiencing it firsthand? Would they trust me now? If so, how? Would they still feel like they'd done the right thing a day from now? A week? A month?
"Any word on Capricorn? Did anyone see anything?"
Ralrek shook his head. "Nothing yet. Marijon and Sethel coordinated the search through Beelzebub's camp. They haven't reported back."
I didn't even bother to nod. I started down the sandy slope toward the place where, just a short time ago, demons fought demons over the fate of unknown mortals. Capricorn's temporal distortions were still visible as strange ripples in the air. In fact, as the day grew long and the light less dominant, the ripples were easier to pick out even though they seemed smaller than they had at the onset.
"Hey, where are you going?"
"To look for Capricorn." The least I could do was set my eyes on the incubus who'd given us a fighting chance by slowing down vast swaths of Beelzebub's operations. If Capricorn still drew a breath, I needed to look him in the eyes and thank him.
"Man, let the search teams handle that. Don't put yourself at risk. You don't have to."
I spun. "Yes, I do."
Ralrek jerked backward.
"Capricorn saved our asses. The least I can do is say goodbye."
Admonished, Ralrek dipped his head.
The walk through the aftermath was sobering. Bodies everywhere. Scattered equipment and abandoned weapons. Patches of sand that'd been turned to glass by magical fire. Mountains of ice melting under the desert sun. A collage of violence. As gruesome as the sights were, I was hit hardest when I came across a torn photograph that had to belong to a refugee. A family vacationing somewhere in the Overworld I didn't recognize. Near a large body of water. A few feet later, a child's toy. A stuffed animal that looked like an orange tiger with black stripes. How I hoped the small owner was among the evacuees. I bent, picked the tiger up by its foot, and shook off the sand.
I thanked demons as I passed. A few bowed. A few thanked me. But most simply nodded and continued their search, the weight of the death and destruction clouding their eyes.
"Zeke!" Marijon waved her arms frantically as soon as I rounded the corner of a clump of tense. "This way."
I suddenly found myself running through the camp, energy renewed. Even before I got to her, I asked, "What is it?"
She pointed to the tent. "Capricorn."
A guard drew the flap back for me. I halted at the smell that assaulted me inside the tent. Decay.
A wheezing breath came from the huddled form propped against the tense central pole.
"Capricorn!" I rushed to his side.
The old incubus looked up. His eyes were clouded white with a layer of cataracts. "Lucifer?" The incubus's voice was his fragile as a cracker. "You're safe. Thank goodness."
Looking over my shoulder, I said, "Get water for him."
The guard who'd opened the tent flap raced off, leaving Marijon to supervise from outside.
"We need to get you medical attention."
I examined Capricorn as I placed a hand against his shoulder. His bony shoulder. The only thing keeping the frail incubus upright was a tent pole. He'd lost not only every sign of muscle mass—he hadn't started with a lot—but also weight. Not hefty, he was a third as thick as he'd been the last time I saw him. Somehow his hair had grown long and stark white. Thinner too. Capricorn had had the wrinkles typical of older demons, but now they were deep trenches. The skin under his chin hung, elongated and loose.
"No." His frail voice found momentary firmness. "No time. The device… I need to show you."
I inched closer, studying the intricate Clock mechanism. Gears within gears, crystals that pulsed with temporal energy. At the center, the countdown display read 00:00:47.
"Capricorn, what's going on?"
He raised his hand above the device. I couldn't call what they were doing shaking. They rocked violently. He coughed, and flecks of blood stained his lips. "Been working on it while time moved around me. Experienced centuries while you fought for minutes. Millennia for the hours before you defeated his army."
