Chapter 60

It is fortunate for these confessions that a handful of reporters were on hand to record King George’s little photo op. Reviewing the archival footage to fill in the gaps in my recollections almost made me grateful that I’d been shanghaied by Fera’s little gang. What had delayed the rest of our party so long was Mr. Jackson with the shipyard waxing poetic about the Bermuda’s capabilities and what an honor it was to have such an illustrious visitor to give her his blessing and what a glorious purpose the Royal Navy had in these dark times and on and on.

King George listened politely, but he knew how to keep his remarks brief, at least. He simply thanked them for their efforts, before lightly admonishing them not to waste these busy young servicepeople’s time. They had led him and his entourage to the rear end of the ship, far from where my life and death struggle with Diavolo was taking place.

There was one benefit to the long preamble; the fog was finally starting to break, and the Bermuda and the other docked vessels looked suitably imposing in the dimmed sunlight.

It seemed that I had been mistaken on one point; I could just hear Mr. Jackson say, “Who lowered the gangplank? Any riffraff could get up there!”

“Not me, sir,” said the naval officer from before.

Ignoring their misgivings, King George ascended a platform that ran beneath the gangplank, bringing him right up to the Bermuda’s hull. His speech was similarly short and to the point.

“It is my honor on this day to christen His Majesty’s Ship the Bermuda. May she bring credit to her name, which has a long history in the Royal Navy.”

He punctuated his words by striking the metal hull with a bottle of bubbly provided for the occasion. It bounced right off, which was a classic bad omen. There wasn’t anything to that old superstition; he was simply a decrepit man in failing health, even if he was drugged to the gills to keep him upright and walking.

Fera didn’t waste the moment, though. She must have magically enhanced her voice to be heard so clearly in the recording as she bellowed, “Thus ever to tyrants! The Holy Brotherhood of Mankind will rise again!”

She had positioned herself at the edge of the Bermuda, using the railing to balance herself as demonic runes spun around her hands. It would have gone off swimmingly if she hadn’t announced her presence first. The Bloody Lance smashed through the empty platform as Yukiko yanked King George away with her Gravity Shift. He let out a cry of pain, as Ms. Sato hadn’t been particularly gentle.

Kowalski’s voice was audible in the recording. “What’s Magpie doing up there?”

Fera didn’t have a chance to follow up the failed attack, though, as the Yeomen sprang into action. Their gunfire ricocheted off the Bermuda’s steel hull as they laid down suppressing fire that forced Fera and her accomplices back. The wizards weren’t idle either; Kowalski’s Buddy flowed out of his shadow, interposing himself between the civilians and any further attacks, while Gabriella retaliated with a Magic Mortar that arched out of sight before spraying the deck in a hail of death.

“Demon magic!” Hiro drew his enchanted katana and dashed up the gangplank. The cameraman seemed to think that Hiro was the most interesting figure and followed behind him as best as he could. At that moment, the feed cut out altogether, making the cameraman’s valor moot.

That was where I joined the chaotic scene. I cleared the edge of the dock and dashed around to the aft of the Bermuda. As I did, the distant lights of Belfast, just visible through the remnants of the morning fog, all winked out at once. “Technology jammers. Bloody wonderful!” I quickly cast a Svalinn’s Mercy, setting the floating energy shield to cover my center of mass.

Damn good thing I did, as a raven-haired Yeoman caught sight of me. “There he is!” A triple burst left his rifle, cracking my energy shield.

“Stand down!” snapped Yukiko. “He couldn’t get over there so fast. It’s another Brotherhood trick!”

Oh, if only. At least Yukiko was giving me the benefit of the doubt.

Before I could get my bearings, an all too familiar wailing began. I caught sight of Hiro dashing his way up the gangplank. “Takehara, fall back!”

I was too late, though, and Hiro reached the aft deck. He stopped in place before retreating. “Orcs!” He shouted, waving his arms to try and get everybody’s attention. “Must be fifty!”

I cursed again; I hated being right. If only it had been Vikings.

The lesser demonic races had worked out a system of communicating orders via bagpipe, and they were signaling for an immediate charge. It wasn’t an unpleasant song, reminiscent of Scotland the Brave, and it actually filled me with a sense of relief, until I remembered I was about to be on the receiving end of an orcish assault for once.

Whatever one might say (and I have certainly said plenty) about the intellect, manners, and hygiene of the orcish race, they knew how to carry out a charge. I caught sight of their long pikes cresting over the ship’s hull before the green skinned barbarians came into view.

For those who haven’t been up close and personal with an orc before, you’re quite fortunate. Imagine a shaved gorilla trained to stand upright and pretend to be halfway civilized, only with longer legs, more dexterous fingers, and skin the color of avocado. They bear tusks in their lower jaws that get in the way of proper Demonic speech. Being next to one is an overwhelming experience, and not only from the persistent stench that refuses to leave them no matter how often they bathe (and they don’t bathe frequently or without protest). Orcs tower over those of human or devilish height the way that a Great Dane would look to a sheepdog. They often are covered in inscrutable tribal tattoos that I’ve never bothered to learn the meaning of; outside of those who have a job to do for us, devils try to avoid their company whenever possible.

Though, I must say, they are a sexually dimorphic race, and some orcmaids can be… tolerably handsome, with the right mindset and a bit of alcohol. It’s certainly not the worst way to spend an evening if you’re on a budget.

I recognized their red and blue uniforms in an instant. It seemed that Girdan had lent his little girl his personal guard. Only the best for Daddy’s little princess, I supposed.

The orcs’ style of dress reminded me a bit of the Yeomen of the Guard’s ceremonial garb, looking suitable for a soldier of a bygone era. Their torso and upper arms were wreathed in a spiked, angular cuirass, while their lower halves were unarmored to free up their movement.

The gangplank was wide enough for four of the demons to stand side by side, and they bore down on us like a green tidal wave. Their war cries echoed through the shipyard, striking us almost like a physical blow. It sent my knees knocking, and I’d seen orc charges a hundred times. It was a credit to my fellow wizards that none of them broke and ran.

I was astounded that the brutes had managed to stay quiet for so long. I hadn’t worked with the Grand General’s guard much, but it seemed he had managed to beat some discipline into the famously savage lesser demons. They showed it, too, as they bore down on a retreating Hiro as fast as their legs could carry them. He was only just faster than them, his legs distorted as his Immortal Form affinity strengthened his muscles.

“Hiro!” Yukiko snagged her boyfriend with Gravity Shift and threw him sideways. I wondered what the Hell was the matter with the girl until Buddy stretched up to catch him in an enormous baseball glove.

I wondered how long it had taken them to work out that maneuver. No time to ask questions, though. I leveled my hands at them. “Fireball!” I didn’t put my full Big Ben-felling oomph behind the spell, since I didn’t want to vaporize the gangplank if I could help it. We still needed to chase our quarry. Still, six of the lead orcs lit up like torches as their body hair and clothes ignited.

This had less impact on the charge than I would have expected; though those leaders were dead demons walking, they kept their pikes steady and continued to charge. I’d never seen the like! Damn Girdan for keeping all the well-disciplined orcs to himself!

My strike was joined by Magic Bolts from the others, which was a mistake. Orcs have hard, leathery skin, and those cuirasses would be designed to redirect magical energy as much as they could. It was the Corps’ go-to attack spell, though, and the inexperienced wizards fell back on their training for softer targets. With Yukiko, Kowalski, Antoni, and a suddenly reappeared Kiyo casting, they managed to fell two of the burning orcs and one of the still healthy leaders.

The six Yeomen had a bit more effect with their rifles, though they had the wrong caliber for orc-hunting. They made up for it with the sheer volume of fire, though.

Horde pikemen were so effective in the twenty-first century because of the orcs’ robustness, but also because they usually had devils screening them with defensive magic. Fera wasn’t keeping up her end of the bargain, not that it seemed to matter. There wouldn’t be time for another spell before they were upon us.

Gabriella went against the manual, for once. It was nice to see the sergeant had influenced her that much. “Flashbang!”

Though, perhaps a warning to her allies would have been in order…

A blinding white orb flew into the leading orcs, producing a deafening thunderclap and a blinding light that had us all crying out in surprise.

The front row of attackers had continued charging straight ahead, to their credit. Unfortunately for them, they had lost their sense of where “straight ahead” was. As my eyes came back into focus, I could hear a few splashes as off-balance orcs fell into the sea.

That still left a knot of orcs, some of them still aflame, to descend upon us. I had just enough time to draw my sword, but the others weren’t so well prepared.

I blinked once, though, and there was Hiro, interposing himself between them and us, his body shimmering like pavement on a summer day and his katana glowing and at the ready. The salt air was mingled with an overwhelming violet, which was Mimic Scent’s way of telling me that Hiro was burning through his minimal magical reserves.

“Get away from her!” he bellowed.

Her? He was so simple-minded about his beloved. Not that I could say I was much better…

I have been none too shy about sharing my estimation of Hiro Takehara as a trusting simpleton. While he could be simple and guileless, and he clearly cheated in board games, the man was a force of nature when he wanted to be.

And in that moment, with his Yukikins and all the rest of us in danger, there was nothing he wanted more.

Two orcs were left from the first line of attackers. The first orc tried his luck, but Hiro ducked and swung his sword in a wide arc, lopping off the spear tip. He grabbed the remains of the polearm under his left armpit and swung upwards. The unfortunate orc was pole-vaulted over our heads into the hull of a ship behind us, leaving Hiro with a staff longer than he was tall. This weapon was thrown straight into an orc’s face, driving him into a pair of his fellows.

Hiro cried out as the next orc’s spear tip found his chest. After wondering where the flash of light was, I realized that the idiot wore a uniform without the fabricata enhancements the rest of us enjoyed, likely to preserve his magical energy for more useful things. I’d expected to watch him be run through. Instead, he was driven backwards by the momentum a few steps before he dug in his heels into the dock’s planks, sending slivers of wood flying in all directions.

The orc was forced to a stop, his spear unable to penetrate Hiro’s Immortal Form hardened skin. “What?” The orc’s dull eyes widened. “How are you…”

Hiro’s only reply was to bat aside the spear with his forearm and lop off the orc’s unarmored leg.

The others stopped their charge, brandishing their spears at Hiro just out of reach. These were the cream of the crop, veterans of campaigns in England and Spain under Girdan the Fair himself. Yet, they were spooked; I could make out their chatter, wondering how a human could be so strong. The daft boy had done what a full barrage from a group of wizards and mundane soldiers hadn’t: he’d blunted a full orcish pike charge all by his lonesome.

Mind you, I obviously could have done the same, with time to cast a few more spells. Still, it was helpful to have a true-blue hero around, now and again.

“Hiro! Cut that out and fight smart!” shouted Yukiko in Japanese. “You’ll burn out!”

“Ah, yes, you are right.” The aura around Hiro’s body dimmed and he fell back to rejoin our line. I realized that he was bleeding from that spear thrust he’d taken to the chest, and he likely didn’t have the magic reserves left for proper healing. Thank Our Father Below he’d listened to reason, and that the orcs were still shocked at the display of naked power.

Yukiko’s admonition had broken us out of a moment of shock. I don’t think any of us were prepared to watch Hiro fling an orc twice his weight like a farmer pitching a haybale. With the orcs’ momentum shattered, I saw a golden opportunity for a counterattack. I sheathed my sword to free up my hands for casting.

Good thing we wizards were back in action, since we were about to be on our own. The civilians were running away, and the Yeomen were covering the King’s escape; two of them hauled the decrepit monarch by his armpits, while their allies provided covering fire that raked the tightly packed orcs.

“Stop it!” bellowed King George. “Forget me, help them!”

I was torn; of course I wanted the fire support from the Yeomen. Then again, the fewer the bodies that were around for Fera to ride, the better. It also meant fewer civilians to see me possibly do something demonic.

I put on a brave face and waved to my monarch. “We’ll cover your retreat! See about getting us some help, if you would.” I ignored his protest; the orcs were starting to regain their courage, and the opportunity to press the advantage was waning.

“Charge!” I shouted, only just avoiding giving the command in High Demonic. I blamed the presence of so many orcs for nearly falling back on old habits. Dark Lord knew I was going to have enough questions about my loyalties at the end of this…

Chapter 61

The orcs were taken aback by us actually closing with them. I’d spoken with enough of them to know how proud they were of their strength, and how much they looked down on humans and their softness.

They’d always add a respectful, “Excepting you, of course, Captain Malthus,” after they’d expressed themselves. I usually nodded and waved it off. After all, I thought of myself primarily as a devil, and a good commander wants to be seen as approachable by the men.

Plus, it meant I knew their names, and who to put on at the front of the next charge against fortified enemies.

Regardless, we had managed to box them in. The leading orcs couldn’t bring their pikes to bear at close range, and they couldn’t fall back without risking the points of their comrades’ polearms. The orcs that were still on the gangplank were mostly stuck in place, fruitlessly trying to shove their way into the fray.

Some corner of my mind that wasn’t focused on the orcs in front of me realized that I was fighting alongside the fruits of my labors. Hiro’s precision use of Immortal Form to bob and weave around the enemy’s spear thrusts, Kowalski’s Buddy responding to his commands to tie up several of the brutes at once, and Gabriella switching out of the formal rhythms of mahoukenjutsu to throw off her enemies would all have been impossible when I’d first met them. I was oddly proud.

Yukiko hadn’t needed my help to be a force of nature, though; I couldn’t take credit for her shoving around the orcs with a thought while she kept them at bay with her naginata. She might have needed a bit less self-confidence, to be honest; the petite woman was absolutely dwarfed by her enemies.

Then again, the one who batted aside her polearm’s blade was frozen in place by his own quadrupled bodyweight long enough for Hiro to punish him.

Kiyo was much more realistic about her talents and winked out of sight the moment we joined the battle. There were still signs she was around, though, as a disembodied voice shouted, “Diamond Shower,” pelting an orc to my side with a hail of sharpened icicles.

If I’d been free, I’d have told Kiyo to focus on armor penetrating spells. Orc hide was practically armor by itself. Kiyo’s attack made him flinch, at least, opening him up for a Celestial Arrow to the throat from yours truly.

All in all, we were making real progress, and I’d commanded units of orcs that would have folded under less resistance. Girdan’s guard held, though, and quickly adjusted to the close quarters fighting. They tossed aside their pikes in favor of the curved swords their kind favored.

“Svalinn’s Wrath!” I summoned an energy blade the size of a dagger and hurled it straight into an orc’s eye. The brute’s wail of pain echoed through the shipyards, even over the din of battle.

“I’ll gettim!” bellowed the orc behind him. He shoved the newly-minted cyclops to the ground and bounded right at me, sword singing through the air.

“Iron Skin!” In an instant, I was clad head to toe in black energy that matched the look and strength of plate armor. It was a draining spell, but I didn’t care to find out if the fabricata reinforcement in my arms would save me from being dismembered. As it was, the hammer blow from the orc’s sword spun me around. When I was facing the right way again, I hammered him with a Celestial Arrow. I must have been a bit dizzy still, since the golden shaft went into his right bicep instead of his face.

This extra level of protection turned out to be prescient, as some of the orcs further up the gangplank began hurling their polearms down at us the way a man might toss a javelin. A few of their fellows went down from friendly fire, but I was saved from serious injury when one of them caught me in the chest. The impact shattered my chest plate above where Fera had cored out my armor before, but the impact was blunted enough that I was only left with a gash instead of being impaled.

From the all-too-human cry of pain to my left, we weren’t all so lucky.

“Rafal!” Antoni should have been more concerned with himself, as he was being menaced by a pair of orcs that he was only holding off with a well-made Svalinn’s Mercy.

Still, I couldn’t fault the Polish man for his concern. Buddy was occupied trading slashes with the bulk of the brutes, keeping a good portion of them hemmed up on the gangplank. Kowalski had been too occupied with guiding his living golem, though, and he’d ended up with a thrown spearhead deep in his right thigh.

That’s when things began to fall apart. Our group was close knit, and I’d gladly have any of them at my back in a fracas. Unfortunately, it meant that we were more inclined to worry about our squadmates than ourselves. Kowalski’s cry caught everyone off guard, and everybody chanced a look his way (myself included).

Yukiko was the first to go, as an orc used her slip of concentration to haul her up by her own naginata and catch her in a bear hug. I won’t repeat what he was talking about doing with this ‘lovely goblin-sized woman’, but it wasn’t pretty. He ended up collapsing up to his waist through the dock’s wooden planks, but he didn’t relax his grip one bit. With her arms pinned, Yukiko’s only recourse was to increase the weight on him again, causing them both to fall through the newly expanded hole with a great splash.

"Hold on, Yukiko!”

That, of course, led to Hiro abandoning his place in the line to dive in after them, just as Buddy withdrew to defend his master. This let more of the orcs slip through, and they descended upon Gabriella and Antoni in numbers too great to bear. It seemed like the bulk of the remaining demons had settled on the rest of our allies as the real threat. They fell back towards the fallen Kowalski, but they’d be overwhelmed in seconds.

I thrust my hand at that gang of orcs to try and even those odds. “Bahadour!” The bolt of red lightning melted through the right hip of the lead orc, sending him tumbling to the ground right before his fellows tripped over his prone form.

Unfortunately, as is often the case with orcs, there were plenty where those came from. Another three of them advanced on me. I was still wrapped in the remnants of the Iron Skin spell, but they hacked away the extra plates on my arms and head, and I was half-blinded as a new gash on my forehead bled into my eye.

“Get off of him!”

Co-ed armies were a mistake! I cursed Kiyo’s name as she interposed herself between us, and just as I was about to let them have it with my best Fireball, I was forced to turn the spell upward to avoid frying her to a crisp. The sudden light drew the attacking orcs’ attention, and I’m sure everyone could see it from the city. That little maneuver had banished the last of the fog in our immediate area as well.

Kiyo used their distraction to press her hand into the armored chest of one orc. “Celestial Arrow!” He went down an instant before a smack from his comrade knocked Kiyo into me with enough force to send us both sprawling. We were a tangle of limbs as I tried to wiggle free to cast another spell, but it would be a near thing.

“Svalinn’s Mercy!”

The words hadn’t left my mouth yet, and I realized that Mariko had caught up with us. Unfortunately, I’d planned to go on the offense, and my Celestial Arrow dashed itself against her shield, blasting the red barrier into a shower of residuum.

The orcs were less impressed with the light show, and they were upon us in a moment.

“Which one did Girdan’s kid want alive?” asked the one on the left in rough Low Demonic. His face bore the acidic scars of an old Ruhspont attack. He hauled Kiyo off of me like she was weightless.

“Fire-gah!”

“This’n,” said the other, pinning my arms to my side hard enough that I heard something pop. His right tusk was broken off, but he was otherwise a typical orc.

“You sure?” asked Scarface. “That one that just dove into the drink had black hair too.”

“This one looks like the disguise daddy’s special princess was wearing,” said Broken Tusk. “See? Got the big nose.”

So good to know I was distinctive! I thrashed as hard as I could, but I couldn’t get any leverage against him.

“Guess this one could be fun,” said Scarface, looking over the dizzy Kiyo in his grip. “Nice face. She’s kinda shrimpy, though; won’t last long.”

“What humans do?” asked Broken Tusk before both burst out laughing.

I wasn’t quite sure how I’d get out of this one; everyone in sight was busy with their own desperate fights.

“Drop them!” demanded Mariko, stepping forward, runes swirling around her hands.

“Now that’s a human,” said Broken Tusk, giving her a lascivious once over. “Dibs.”

“What? You always get the good ones!” snapped Scarface.

“You already got one. You can’t be greedy.”

“I m-mean it!” shouted Mariko, her knees knocking. “I-I-I know combat magic, a-and I’ll use it.”

“Mariko, get out of here!” I couldn’t save myself at the moment; I couldn’t keep track of her, too. “They don’t speak any language you know! You can’t talk them down!”

Say, there was an idea. Switching to High Demonic, I shot Broken Tusk a highborn sneer. “Yes, I’m the one that Fera was after. I think she’d be most displeased with the way you’re—”

He interrupted me with a headbutt that nearly caved in my skull. When I opened the eye that wasn’t full of stinging blood, I knew it wasn’t his blood dribbling down his forehead.

“Yup, definitely the traitor. Sounds like a hornless devil.”

I was still dazed from the blow; I wasn’t about to come up with anything approaching a plan.

“I warned you!” The golden energy shaft smashed through one side of Broken Tusk’s head before stopping, the diamond-shaped point protruding out of the other temple. It would have been comedic if it had been anybody else firing the shot.

I didn’t have long to appreciate the humor, as his lifeless hands finally let me go. I managed to land on my feet, though I was still in a daze.

Scarface tossed Kiyo aside and drew his sword. “For my cousin!”

“S-stop, please, I-I don’t w-want to do it again,” she managed through little sobs, her fingers still in the right casting position.

Scarface wouldn’t have listened, even if she’d spoken his tongue. The life of an orc was cheap to most anybody who asked, but not to their clansmen.

Or to Mariko, I supposed. Scarface rushed forward, too quickly for Mariko to switch to another spell. Hiro could have run, Kowalski could have intercepted him with Buddy, Kiyo could have disappeared. Mariko didn’t have another choice.

“Celestial Arrow!”

Mariko gave Scarface a quick end, at least. In her panic, she’d thrown more energy into this attack, making an arrow as long as a Javelin that smashed Scarface’s head into a pulp.

Mariko collapsed to her knees, in obvious shock.

I found my own eyes a bit wet on her behalf, and not just from the blood in my eye. I knew exactly what Mariko had just sacrificed for us, and not by mistake like in the battle with Mulciber. She’d just saved me at the cost of her principles. Another promise I’d broken.

Co-ed armies were a mistake; I very nearly went to her side to comfort her. My better instincts won out, and I had the presence of mind to dispel the pathetic remnants of my Iron Skin to stop the magic bleed as I turned to face the remaining enemies. None of our enemies were focused on us, at least.

Kiyo was still out, so I spared her a refactored All Heal.

She popped up, eyes wide with panic. “You got em?”

“Close enough,” I said, turning my attention to my own injuries. “Alheln.” It hurt like getting my gonads kicked into my body, but at least the bleeding finally stopped.

Antoni, Gabriella, and Buddy were managing a decent last stand against the rest of the orcs, about twenty by my estimate. Buddy in particular was like something out of an H. P. Lovecraft novel, his form refusing to stay solid as he lashed out at the orcs with everything his imagination could summon.

As far as I could tell at that distance, one of them (likely Gabriella), had managed to erect a large Slow Barrier. The dense-air magic was basically immune to physical attacks, which forced the orcs to attack them from the sides. Even the felled Kowalski was managing to contribute defensive spells at the edges of the barrier, though the spear was still lodged in his leg.

I rushed to the hole where Yukiko and Hiro had disappeared, thankful that the orcs were otherwise occupied. There was no sign of either of them; a quick look through Mimic Sight showed no sign of them under the pier, at least. With the sheer volume of spells cast in such a short time by the eight of us, though, I was finding my senses a tad overwhelmed by the magical residuum floating everywhere.

In that case, it was time to focus on those I could help.

“Ready, Kiyo?” I asked, tensing for a countercharge into the rear of the orcs.

Kiyo nodded once, readying her hands. “Wish I knew where Bernadette was, but yeah.”

Before I could start slinging spells, the wailing bagpipes changed to the signal for an immediate retreat. I’d never seen orcs change gears so quickly, and I don’t think it was just due to their training. Between the initial charge and the desperate melee, we’d managed to down at least half of them. They grabbed whatever weapons were handy, either their own or from their fallen comrades, and dashed back up the gangplank in something like good order.

Antoni and Buddy, not questioning their good fortune, descended on Kowalski with healing magic and first aid. Gabriella stepped forward, ready to contest their retreat.

Without the throng of orcs to block the view, it was clear that Gabriella was in rough shape. Slow Barrier distorted the air in front of us, but her shambling limp was obvious to see.

They hadn’t broken her mouth, though.

“You think you can just run away, you cockroaches?” she shouted, her voice audible even over the wailing pipes. “Some big demons you are, afraid of a little girl like me! Let me give you something to chew on! Magic Mortar!”

The oversized Magic Bolt sailed level with the Bermuda before bursting, showering the retreating orcs in a hail of blue, magical submunitions. Most of them didn’t penetrate their armor or skin, but some of them made their way out of sight minus some extremities. Once they’d fled, the damn wailing of the pipes suddenly stopped.

Blessed silence ruled for a moment.

Gabriella snapped her fingers, dispelling the Slow Barrier. “Magpie, get your ass over here! Kowalski’s bleeding o—”

The report of a high bore rifle echoed through the shipyard. There was a flash of red as the fabricata woven into her uniform’s stomach tried to resist the bullet.

It wasn’t up to the task. Kiyo had specifically loaded an armor piercing round into Bernadette before Fera’s goons had stolen it. The poor woman collapsed in a heap, a look of surprise etched into her face.

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