Demon Apocalypse

There are a few reports about the Disciples, but they’re vague and patchy. Rumours of a group of experts with knowledge and experience of demons, but no mention of magic or names.

Some of the older papers still have ordinary sections, sports coverage and gossip columns, the usual padding. An attempt to maintain normality. But the later editions focus solely on the Demonata. Nothing else, just page after page of horror and catastrophe.

I stop reading after half an hour. I’ve had enough. Humanity has hit a brick wall. We’re facing our end, like the dinosaurs millions of years before us. The only difference is we’ve got journalists on hand to document every blow and setback, cataloguing our rapid, painful downfall in vibrant, vicious detail. Personally, I think the dinosaurs had the better deal. When it comes to impending, unavoidable extinction, ignorance is bliss.

We set down hours later on a private landing strip outside a small town close to the border where humans and demons are locked in battle. There are several other planes and helicopters parked at the sides of the strip. A large, grey, square building occupies one corner. We head for it once we’ve disembarked, Beranabus leading the way with the stride of a confident, commanding general.

Inside the building are eleven men and women, a mix of races. A couple aren’t much older than me, a few look to be in their seventies or eighties, while the others fall into the thirty-to-sixty bracket. Most are neatly dressed, though one or two could compete with Beranabus in the scruffiness stakes. They all look tired and drained.

“Hail to the chief!” a large man in military fatigues shouts ironically, saluting Beranabus as he enters. There are letters tattooed on his knuckles and a shark’s head covers the flesh between knuckles and thumb. Like when Sharmila turned up at the cave, I know his face and name, even though we’ve never really met.

“Shark?” Beranabus scowls. “Sharmila thought you were dead.”

“When you broke contact, I feared the worst,” Sharmila says, shuffling around Beranabus.

“Couldn’t wait for the Messiah forever,” Shark grunts. “There was fighting to be done. I was going to summon you back, but I knew you wouldn’t return without our regal leader.”

“I had to wait,” Sharmila says stiffly. “Beranabus is our best hope.”

Shark snorts. “Hope? What’s that? I heard about it once, in a fairy tale.”

“Be quiet,” Beranabus says softly and the larger man obeys, though he eyes Beranabus accusingly, as though he blames the magician for our dire predicament. “Any more to join us?” Beranabus asks, addressing the question to the room in general.

“Two, maybe three,” a small, dark-ski

“Then I’ll start.” Beranabus looks around, meeting everybody’s gaze in turn. “I won’t offer false hope. We’re in deep trouble and I doubt we’ll be able to wade out. But the war isn’t lost yet. If we can destroy the tu

There are excited mutterings. “Are you sure?” Shark asks suspiciously. “You’re not just saying that to rally our spirits?”

“Have I ever lied to any of you?” Beranabus retorts sharply. He waits a moment. When nobody responds, he continues. “One of Lord Loss’s human allies killed a person in the cave, to prime the tu

“How do we close the tu

“There’s a lodestone set deep within the cave,” Beranabus says. “The demons are using its power. If I can reach it, I know the spells to disable it and rid us of our unwelcome guests. I’ll need somebody to help me inside the cave—Kernel or Grubbs. The rest of you only have to concern yourselves with getting us there.”

“You want us to clear the way for you, even if it costs us our lives,” Shark growls.

“Aye,” Beranabus says. “This is a suicide mission. We’re going to drop into a nest of demons. They’ll be waiting for us, expecting an attack. They’ll outnumber us and many are probably more powerful than we are. Our chances of making it to the lodestone are slim. Even if the boys and I get through, the rest of you are doomed—you’ll need to continue fighting while I cast the spells, to guard our backs. I doubt any of you will survive.”

“That’s a lot to ask,” Shark says icily.

“It’s no more than I ask of myself. Sacrifice opened this tu

Beranabus looks straight at Shark and awaits his response. The big man shrugs thoughtfully and Beranabus addresses the room again. “I don’t think any of us will make it through this day. But if we succeed, humanity will go on.”

“Until another tu

“That’s not our problem,” Beranabus says. “I believe the universe will spit out more heroes to lead the good fight. But whatever happens, it’s out of our hands. This is what we must do to counter the present threat. Are you with me? If any of you aren’t, say so now and leave the rest of us to get on with it.”

Nobody backs down from the challenge. Most don’t look very happy—who the hell would!—but they accept the magician’s verdict. Seeing this, Beranabus smiles approvingly, then circulates, chatting with the Disciples individually, making sure they’re prepared for the fight, offering advice and strategic tips, raising morale.

Kernel and I are in the middle of the room, looking at each other uncertainly. Beranabus’s a

Sharmila approaches, smiling thinly. “He did not tell you that you were to be killed?”

“He’s a busy man,” Kernel snaps. “He doesn’t have time to tell us everything.”

Sharmila sighs. “You are loyal. That is good. But are you loyal to the point of death? Will you allow yourself to be slaughtered?” She looks at me. “Will you?”

“We’ll do what we must,” Kernel says fiercely. “We’re not ignorant children. We know our duty. If we have to die, so be it. We’d rather not, but we’ll be killed by the demons anyway if we lose, and probably more painfully and slowly.”

Sharmila tilts her head towards us. “I apologise if I seemed critical. But I had to know the nature of the boys I am to fight and die for. Now I am confident that you will not fail if the opportunity presents itself. Thank you for reassuring me.”

She wanders off to talk with Beranabus. Kernel looks sideways at me. “I normally wouldn’t give another person’s word for them, especially when I’m not sure of it, but it seemed like the right thing to say.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” I reply stiffly. “I won’t let us down.”

“I wish I could believe that.” He doesn’t say it to hurt me. Just speaking the truth as he sees it.

“I chickened out in the Demonata’s universe,” I whisper, blushing. “But this is different. I’ll fight. And I’ll die if I have to. I’m not afraid of dying, no more than anybody else in this room.”

“Really?” Kernel’s unconvinced. “If I fall, and you and Beranabus make it to the lodestone, you’ll let him drive a knife through your heart or chop off your head?”