Until This World Ends

15: Demonic Locust

In the cradle of man, more manpower was pooled than at any other time in history. It was the first wave of demonic plagues that would breach their world. They had not captured the Goddess yet, and Loric was twitchy on the battlefield without his wings, rings, claws, or halo. All of them were. Some parts of the disciplines could be practiced before that release, but not enough for a true fight.

Still, it was the strength of humanity apprehensive of a little tussle with the king locusts. A novice could skewer them and let them die on pikes. Sheer volume had always been the problem with the first wave. The need for a call of strength was in the skill of long-held bitter memories. So, strength poured over the most effective ways to end these gobblers before they even had a mouthful of Ashera's grains.

Several hours after it started, the Cradle of Humanity was a cradle of filth piled higher than the bowl could hide. It poured over into the great plains. Several riders were tracking the few that flew off, as they were young and energetic enough to see this fight out to the end.

Regis didn't have the heart for it. All the lives he spent alone, avoiding killing, were taking a toll on his zealotry.

Gareth was on a makeshift cot, half asleep from exhaustion. "I think my fighting days are over, Regis."

The crown prince nodded, still relieved that the old man dropped Valentine after years of insisting on its use. "That's up to you. We can't lose you if we want to win."

"Ah, the rift has closed. Give me a min...fuck." Gareth grumbled as he sat up. "We are lightening my gear or augmenting it. I can't carry this weight. Anyway. Easternmarch is next, in about a month. It feels like another Crowned Locust attack, but much bigger than this one."

"I didn't want to have to march out over another nation so early." Regis chewed his lip. "Well, I'll write a missive for my father and their fool of a leader. I'll give them 3 weeks to sort it out, or it's going to be messy."

True to his word, the warning fell on deaf ears, both of his father's ego and Lord Faring's. Regis pulled together a meeting with the first awakened, and the consensus was to let this be the first fall of man.

No one would enter the nation until its inhabitants fled. There would be no accusation of overthrowing an independent kingdom over a few grasshoppers. It would possibly trigger the Goddess coming out of hiding sooner, as it would count as a loss. The yearning for her coming tensed everyone beyond what they were willing to bear. Perhaps this was a tainted decision.

Lord Tollsfee of Ironwood took the eastern flank and many of the younger squires, those not personally within Regis' reach. Gloria Meridia took the east. Tokio wanted the north, leaving Regis and Loric to support high priest Gareth in the south. They waited outside the kingdom for two days without slowing travelers. Two days that they could have saved Easternmarch.

Eventually, people fled, often with gouges bitten into their flesh. Enthusiastic demons forgot that their primary food was crops. The great locusts did not care if the life they sheared to the ground swayed in the wind or danced on feet. Lost humanity often became food.

The cry was raised, beacons lit, and horns blasted, declaring the move of Ashera's knights. The might of the world rushed in to make sure that none of these creatures made it out of the territory.

What should have been a battle of 3 hours took two weeks. In the end, they burned the land to ensure that they killed every last one of them. No one wanted to see if the eggs of this pestilence managed to hatch.

No one wanted a repeat of the 5th life, so Easternmarch fell. Better one nation than them all.

The call for the next battle would be in two months.

Loric waited for Ashera in vain.

Kingdoms no longer cared when and where they fought, year after year. Rexius officially disinherited his son, so that the fight became nationless. King's Port became a city-state in the negotiations for where this army of madmen would live.

The world grew complacent, even with death hovering overhead. 3 years, 7, 12, and more, yet not once had they needed the Goddess' might. They reclaimed man's strength with bombs, exoskeletons, and whatever the young Pullmen of Mickhelm could devise. Regis began to itch for his wings as the year of the Gibbey aproached. Big demons, ingenuity, and finesse had never worked without her aid. Still, the damned woman hid from her faithful.

The former crown prince thought Gibbey was a stupid name for them. The same name in over 104 lifetimes made it hardest to dismiss. Deathstalker was one of the best, but Regis didn't have a desire to use that on the least big creatures to come through a rift. He preferred to call the mocking beast of the Blackwoods by that name. No one else seemed to be aware of the creature, save him. That bothered him, but experience pointed to it being a problem for when they won, if it ever would be solved.

Their encounter with this great Nosehorn did finally begin killing the awakened. Not in large numbers.

Lord Tollsfee allowed the creatures to drive his men into the greater salt plains in the west. He remembered that these demons didn't do well without freshwater long term.

No one expected the extent to which the salt would win the day, though. Once, they had 6 hardened paws that would grind and crush men to death. Those started to violently combine with the heavy salt and emit noxious fumes.

No one expected their skin to combine with salt like that. Certainly not any who dabbled in alchemy. Riders leapt clear and kept running, to get away from the clouds of death. Some of the less-nimble priests caught in the crosswinds corroded. The acid ate through armor and humans alike.

The only thing more horrific to Regis was how Ashera would pull souls back to herself. Few other awakened would remember. It was a tossup as to whether to call it a win or not. It tested all their faith as they made camp that night. There was an even split between those who gathered for communal prayers and those who drank themselves into a stupor.

The few intellectuals kept telling everyone that acids make salts. What happened must be an undoing of reason. What else would come from fighting demons?

Regis raged. It was internal. He was now in his 30s and too old by any measure to throw things around like a child. But he wanted to, desperately. He walked on the edge of the flats until he was out of sight of the camp. There, he fell to his knees in what could be a mockery of the prayers he once held. Bowing, he could almost taste the salt of the earth. He yelled out inarticulately, much like he did lifetimes ago in a cyclone. It ended in tears, and he spoke hoarsely. "Why do you withhold from us? We don't measure up against the beasts we face. Where the fuck are you, M'Lady?"

He ran through the litany of everything they had done for her and themselves. Still, no oversight came from the one with the most experience and knowledge. The former crown prince was certain she didn't even hear him, but he tried.

Regis wasn't entirely surprised to hear footsteps nearing him, cracking the salted crust. It was the speed of his approach that had him up on his feet and in a defensive position before he recognized his cousin, Vajin-Rex. He hated how Rex permeated everything in his life every time he saw the boy. "What is it?"

"Gareth says we have to go. An unscheduled breach is happening in King's Cross."

Regis shook his head and started the jog back to the camp. "You know anything else?"

"He said whatever is coming through is a big one. He has you and Loric's gear packed, and you're to take the Pullmen's engine on its test run. He also sent a dove to Bartlett. The closest they can get is about 2 miles east. The test run isn't pulling enough wheeled boxes for the rest of us, and you're going to be late."

Regis cursed to himself. When things went wrong, they went wrong in 3s. 1st this battle, and 2nd his home and family, but the 3rd thing is what worried him. A creature that hid in shadows while in direct light. It's aspects of spider, dragon, scorpion, and wholly demon flickering in stained glass' light. How many times would someone have to sacrifice themselves over this beast?