By Demons Be Driven by Ashe Armstrong

Author:Ashe Armstrong
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Armstrong Books
Published: 2021-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Demons, too many to quickly count, burst from the tree line, circling around Grimluk, Silvers, and Kruger in much the same way the cultists had. There were death hounds, black as shadow, with fur, scales, and protruding bone, red eyes gleaming as their slavering jaws barked and snapped. More of the beast folk shook with the anticipation of violence, looking less like people than the ones from the other side of the portal. A warg-sized spider thing, jagged carapace and too many eyes set into an elvenoid face, crawled out from behind the stone owl, chittering and hissing.

Rundyyk let out a deep howl that sounded more like a roar, its head turned up to the full moon. The whole lot standing around them mirrored their master, filling the grove with an overwhelming din. Spiritual and mystical pressure crowded into the air like humidity before a storm. Grimluk went for the opportunity present, going for his gun to fire off the last remaining shot he had. His arm made it halfway there before the pressure in the air condensed around him, impeding his movements by sheer force. As the howling ceased, he heard the muttering of a mortal voice. The pressure grew on his hand suddenly, pushing his finger back and the gun down, causing him to fire into the ground.

“Now now, hunter, that’s not very sporting,” came the Whateley patriarch’s voice. Grimluk glanced at the cultist. Elder’s arm was outstretched toward Grimluk, a grin plastered across his face. “And we’d had such high hopes for you.”

“Run!” Rundyyk roared at them, its minions chittering and laughing. “Or perish now, mortals. Keep back from them, my brethren, unless the orc tries that again.”

With practiced hands, and a heart that felt like it was trying to escape from his chest, Grimluk reloaded his revolver as swiftly as he was able. There was no way he was getting through the Whateleys before the demons were on top of them. His only option was to get Silvers and Kruger away. If they could stay safe long enough, he could set traps, whittle them down.

“Come on!” he shouted at Silvers and Kruger, grabbing at them and pulling them into action. Silvers screamed at the gesture as he pulled them along with him. Kruger followed dumbly along, eyes darting back to the horde of beasts, then tripped and fell, nearly taking Grimluk with him. Once prompted, Silvers’ legs pumped with panic, primal preservation instincts no doubt roaring through their veins. They tore free of Grimluk’s grip, bolting like a rabbit. Kruger was on the ground screaming as Grimluk tried to get him up and running again but the man refused to budge.

“Your choice,” came the demon lord’s rumbling voice, “is made.”

Grimluk’s gun barked once more as the beasts rushed toward Kruger. Six fell to his weapon, bursting into blazing, pale green flames, screaming louder than any he’d ever heard. Kruger, voice breaking from the screams, managed to turn his shotgun toward the incoming monsters. Both barrels cried out, knocking one of the death hounds away for only a moment.

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