Kultus by Richard Ford

Author:Richard Ford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Rebellion Publishing Ltd

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Golden robes fluttered in panic as Valac’s acolytes began to flee in terror. Blaklok’s eyes were on the Key of Lunos, now lying at the centre of the summoning circle, but the huge demon still stood astride it. It reached out another hand, grasping a fleeing figure by the hem of his robe and lifting him high, examining the struggling man like a child might observe a dangling worm. As the victim began to peal out a high pitched scream, Valac lowered him towards its jaws, taking a deep bite of the man’s torso, crunching through ribs and flesh and into organs, allowing the rich red juices to run in rivulets down its chin.

The man didn’t scream for long.

Blaklok looked around for Trajian Arkwright, determined that he should not escape the hellish justice of his master, but he was lost in the confusion as bodies ran every which way in terror.

Trajian would have to keep, for now Blaklok had to retrieve the Key and stop a ravenous demon from slaughtering scores of innocents. Obviously these acolytes were an exception – Valac could have as many of these injudicious bastards as he could stuff in his huge maw.

The demon finished rending the flesh from its now flaccid victim and dropped the body to the ground, as though discarding a stripped spare rib. It glared around at the confusion, its former acolytes now fleeing in terror, and it roared. The sound filled the chapel and made Blaklok cringe. He felt the fear wash over him and struggled to fight against it. This was not real terror, not the primal kind you got from being scared for your life. This was a horror only the demonic could imbue – a fear for your very soul that even death could not liberate you from.

And as the noise of the hellbeast’s roar subsided, Thaddeus saw that its eyes were solidly fixed on him. Two burning embers lodged deep within a face of solidified magma.

Blaklok fought against the terror but it was no good, the eyes had him transfixed. His knees were trembling and his bowels were about to loosen. He knew his very soul was in jeopardy.

With a deafening crash one of the ornate windows burst inwards, showering the chapel and the few remaining acolytes with multicoloured glass. Valac turned in time to see hideous red robed figures bound into the sanctity of the wide room. As they did so, more scarlet cultists came storming through the door, pushing past those in gold, as eager to enter the room as Valac’s followers were to exit.

Blaklok recognised the feral, bounding forms of the Cult of Legion, and even noted the wild-eyed features of Castor Cage, but he soon realised they were not here for him.

‘Seize the Key!’ cried the cultist to their fore. To all intents this one was human, not bearing the vile demonic taint of some of the other red-robed monsters, but his face was hidden behind a large mask, shaped like a bronze sunburst.

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