CHAPTER ONE
The clang of steel against steel rang out across the battlefield. Fighting to keep his legs steady, Nalyx raised his sword – just in time, as the demon’s sword crashed down over his head. His whole body shuddered at the impact, and his feet slid backwards on the rocky slope. The damn bastard had taken the only few feet of high ground in the entire field, a small rise to the left of the swirling void that was the gate between their worlds.
Nalyx swung, driving the demon back. He forced himself forward, to the top of the slope, so that he was on a level footing with the towering beast. Not that it did him much good. The demon was still a whole foot taller than him – though he was no slouch himself at 6’2” – and it was stronger than him, and meaner, from the looks of the long canines that rose out of its lower jaw. The creature was mostly black, though it had grey patches over its shoulders and neck and a red streak down the middle of its chest. There were horns on its head and huge, curving claws at the end of its fingers. The demon let out a roar, swinging its massive sword again.
This time, Nalyx dodged to the side, narrowly missing the sharpened blade as it swung downwards, sending sparks flying as it collided with the rock they were standing on.
But though the demon was bigger, Nalyx was quicker. He used the half a second it took the demon to raise his sword again to dart sideways, slicing his blade through the beast’s arm. He severed both muscle and tendon, and though it hadn’t been the demon’s sword arm, the injury caused it to bellow in pain.
Then a second yell split the air, and Nalyx saw that another warrior had just arrived. And for all that he wanted to take this beast down by himself, even he would have been forced to admit that right now, he could use the help.
Calium, an eager lad of just twenty-two, rushed the demon from behind, stabbing into its back so deep the tip of his sword came all the way out the front of its chest. Nalyx used the moment of distraction to swing at the creature’s throat, and a spray of black blood spurted out, drenching him in the foul stuff. The demon looked almost surprised for a moment, before its sword dropped to the ground, joined a moment later by the beast’s great body, landing with a thud.
“About time,” Nalyx muttered, gasping for air. By the gods, that had been a close one. Over at the gate, the latest flood of demons attempting to cross into their world seemed to have slowed for the moment, though it was only a matter of time until they made another push. Renfold was fighting a small, green demon, almost toying with the creature before he eventually cut its head off – poncy show-off – and Hallix and Henrick – twins, and both of them massive men, over six and a half feet tall – were making quick work of dispatching a red-skinned demon with a long, black tail.
“Sorry I’m late,” Calium said, sounding almost cheerful. “I got stuck chasing a hellhound through the forest. Got the bastard in the end, but damn, they’re quick.”
“How much longer?” Nalyx asked, fighting to catch his breath. He checked the position of the sun. It was high in the sky, but still well short of the peak of its travels.
“Two hours,” Calium replied. “Not too much longer now.” Easy for him to say. He hadn’t just taken a beating from a beast twice his size and three times his strength.
“Fuck me,” Nalyx muttered. He wiped the sweat from his face on his sleeve, then spat on the ground to rid his mouth of the taste of the demon’s blood. “Where’s the captain?”
“Rallying the troops for the final push. These bastards always swarm the gate at the last minute.” It was true. The Gate of Chalandros – the doorway between the demon world and the human one – opened once every forty-six days. Twenty-three days open, then twenty-three days shut, the change taking place at exactly midday. And for whatever reason, the hoards of demons always decided to make a last mad dash in the final half an hour or so. It was the most dangerous time for the warriors who defended the gate, and for the civilians living in the city a hour’s walk to the south. Inevitably, one or two demons made it through in those final desperate moments, and if they did, the warriors would be faced with an hours-long trek through the sprawling forest to hunt down the creatures before they could harm any civilians.
“You’re looking a little the worse for wear,” Calium said, looking Nalyx up and down. He was filthy and he knew it, caked from head to toe in dirt, ash, demon blood and a few splatters of human blood as well, though thankfully not his own. Not this time, at least.
“Shut it, pretty boy,” Nalyx said, though there was more warmth in his words than genuine complaint. “You’d be a filthy mess too if you hadn’t decided to take a leisurely stroll in the forest.”
“Ha! Leisurely stroll, my ass. You try chasing a mutated dog that vomits fire. Gleeson was with me. Had to take an impromptu dip in the creek when the hound set his trousers alight.”
“Is he badly burned?” Forced teasing gave way to real concern for a moment. Nalyx had battled hellhounds before, and despite their relatively small size, he knew well enough that they could be just as dangerous as a beast three times as big.
“He’s got a few scalds on his leg, but nothing too severe. The captain sent him home early. Figured he’d done enough for this cycle.”
“Lucky bastard,” Nalyx grumbled. “The prick’s probably just playing it up.” Now that he knew the man wasn’t seriously injured, he was perfectly willing to gripe about his absence. “Gods, I can’t wait until we’re back there with him. I’m looking forward to a hot meal and a warm bath.”
“And a bonny woman to bathe you in the process?” Calium said with a smirk.
Nalyx grinned. “Not much point in going to all this effort if you don’t get to enjoy the perks.” It was one of the major reasons why so many men willingly volunteered to defend the gate. There was the noble calling of protecting their world from the demons, of course, but for the twenty-three days that the gate was closed, the warriors lived the lives of kings, given gifts of the best food from the citizens of the city, provided with the finest clothes, and cared for by the bevy of beautiful young women who served the warriors with their bodies, gentle hands and willingly opened thighs soothing aching muscles and battered spirits alike.
“Look lively,” Calium said, all traces of humour disappearing in an instant. “Looks like the next wave is starting.”
CHAPTER TWO
Gantalla cursed as the heat from the desert sand seeped through her thin leather shoes. The soles of her feet were being scalded with every step, and she wished she’d thought to barter for a sturdier pair of boots before coming this way. Hindsight was a bloody wonderful thing… though to be fair, she’d probably made a wiser decision in trading her embroidered tunic for a long cotton cloak instead. The heat beating down on her from the furious sun was worse than the heat from the sand, and the cloak, with its deep hood, was keeping her skin from burning. It was too bad about the boots, but she didn’t have much in the way of other possessions, and short of trading her knife, there wouldn’t have been much she could do. And her knife was too valuable to part with. Stories abounded about the brutality of the human warriors who guarded the far side of the gate. It would be pure foolishness to attempt to fight one with nothing more than a short hunting knife, but at the same time, Gantalla couldn’t bring herself to attempt the crossing completely unarmed.
That was if she ever made it as far as the gate in the first place.
Doing her best to ignore the burning in her feet, she trudged onwards, up the next sand dune, then a sliding trot down the other side, then up the next one. Despite the endless dunes, it wasn’t hard to make sure she was going in the right direction. The Gate of Chalandros sat in the side of a huge tor that towered above the surrounding landscape, and at the top of each dune, she got a good glimpse of the top of the tor. It looked significantly closer now than it had from the last dune, and she quickened her pace – not just in the hope of finally getting out of this infernal heat, but also because she wasn’t sure quite how much time had passed. The gate was due to close today, and she dreaded the thought of missing it. Thighs aching, her throat tight in the dry and dusty air, she pressed onwards.
Centuries ago, this land had been a fertile plain, home to great wandering herds of redios beasts – bulky, lumbering creatures with hairy hides and splayed hooves. The grasses had bloomed twice a year, coating the land with colourful flowers, and rivers had flowed eastwards, meandering across the plateau until they fell in spectacular waterfalls down the cliffs towards Iddishmeil – which had once been a large and bustling city, but was now a series of slums, with the great palace tower of the Stone King the only remnant of its former glory.
Now, the land was a barren waste, home to nothing more than a few small lizards and the hand-sized scorpions who scavenged for food from the carcasses of people who had failed to make the journey to the gate. Chalandros was a dying world, and even the most powerful mages had proven unable to restore the balance.
Which was why, for twenty-three out of every forty-six days, great hoards of people dared to attempt to cross the desert, making their tired way to the gate that opened into the human world. And it was why they continued their desperate attempts to pass through the gate, even though every single one of them knew that right on the other side stood an army of human warriors, waiting with malicious rage to slaughter every last one of them. Being killed by the sword was a bad way to go, but the alternative, for those who stayed behind, was either a slow death by starvation, or to be murdered by one of the roving bands, all too eager to slit a throat if it gained them a flask of water or a few strips of dried lizard meat.
Climbing to the top of the next dune, Gantalla felt her heart sing. Finally. She’d made it. She could see the base of the tor now, and spread out in a messy camp around it were hundreds of people. Some had constructed makeshift shelters, tying sheets to wooden beams or making lean-tos on the sand. Others were crowded right up against the gate, which was set into a flat wall of rock on the side of the tor. Not much further now…
