Nyx alighted on the ground. There was no sound this time, no cloud of dust, no vibration to distract the men from Robert’s screams. She simply landed and walked slowly towards Godfrey of Bouillon, her wings folding away and vanishing. “And then,” she said, her voice gentle once more, “there is you.”
To his credit, the nobleman was doing his best to control his trembling. He did not weep or cry out, and manage to stay on his feet.
“You opposed Robert’s plan,” said Nyx. “You presented a plan that could have succeeded. That would have succeeded.”
“Yes, my lady,” said Godfrey.
Suddenly, Persephone and Ishtar were beside him, hands running gently down his body, all over his body, making him gasp even as he tried to keep his eyes on Nyx.
“I was very impressed with your plan,” said Nyx, coming ever closer. “I was looking forward to following you in, to watching as you led your men to victory over Jerusalem.” Her voice changed, and the next words out were cold and deadly as a winter storm. “But you gave in!”
Persephone’s and Ishtar’s hands turned to claws, ripping the clothes from Godfrey’s body, gouging into his flesh as they tore away chain mail and padding and the clothes beneath, even tearing his boots away in moments, leaving him naked with the proof of the lust he felt from their caresses obvious to the knights and nobles around him.
“You are worse than Robert!” screamed Nyx, and her voice threatened to deafen everyone in the ring of knights, in the army, in Jerusalem. “You had the tools for victory and you gave them up to that whining little dog!”
Nyx’s eyes went to Persephone, then to Ishtar. Her lip curled in disgust and she said. “Slow.”
Persephone and Ishtar both had wings again, and both rose slowly into the air as Godfrey of Bouillon struggled desperately between them. He lashed out with his fists, then with his feet, trying to cause damage, but the two only laughed at the blows that landed, and ever so gently, ever so slowly, placed him on the jagged tip of the second beam. He balanced there for a moment, shouting and thrashing. Suddenly, his flesh gave way and the wood pierced into his bowels. Shouts turned to screams as, inch by inch his body’s weight pulled him inexorably downward, and the jagged wood slipped inside him, ripping and tearing as it went.
Both men’s screams echoed over the land, bouncing off the walls of Jerusalem.
“Devils!” screamed a knight. “Devils of Hell!”
The knight’s words carried past the knights, over the army. Amongst the soldiers, there was panic. Some turned to run, others held their ground, others charged forward, weapons high. The knight drew his blade and rushed at Nxy, screaming, “Destroy the devil! Deus Vult!”
Fifty knights rushed forward, swords, war hammers, axes and morning stars ready to hack and smash into her flesh.
Nyx’s sword grew out of her hand, black-bladed and shining in the hot desert sunlight. She swung it and the nearest three men’s bodies exploded, the force of the blow scattering bits of intestine and lung and slices of rib over the surrounding knights.
“My Angels!” She called, her voice raw and fierce with the joy of battle. “Kill those who betrayed me!”
Darkness flowed from Ishtar and Persephone’s bodies, sliding down their arms. Those knights who had not attacked watched in horror as from their very flesh darkness twisted, growing and wrapping around itself again and again, like thick rose stems done in black, with thorns all down the lengths of them. As one the Angels raised their bows, and arrows appeared as they drew back the strings.
In a moment, a dozen men died, the arrows cutting through their armor and burning through their pierced flesh like acid, leaving gaping, holes dripping with darkness in their bodies. Then a dozen more, then a score. Throughout the army, whenever a man tried to run they were felled. The fortunate ones took arrows to the head and died instantly.
Less fortunate were the ones who took the arrows to their guts or, worst of all, to a limb, which would be eaten away as they screamed, bone and flesh tuning to oozing black liquid. Then the acid slowly spread to their torsos and their lives would end in agony.
Below Ishtar and Persephone, Nyx cut her way through the knights, not even bothering to parry the blows that cut into her flesh. The little pain they could inflict felt more like pleasure, and added impetus to her blade as she cleaved through the knights. Links of chain mail and broken bits of sword flew through the air with guts and limbs and flesh and severed heads as her blade cut through everything it came in contact with.
Ten knights were downed by the time the second volley of arrows had flown. By the tenth volley, no one who had attacked remained in one piece. Many were still alive, though, and they screamed and stared in horror at their own severed legs and their guts, spread over the ground as the last of their blood flowed out.
In the army, chaos reigned. The men who ran had died by the hundreds, arrows flying too fast to see or stop pierced through armor and shields and flesh without mercy. The men who stood still were untouched. No acid splashed them; no arrows fell on them.
“ENOUGH!” Nyx’s voice rolled across the plains like a blast of thunder, freezing every man in his place and making the earth shake with the force of it. Ishtar and Persephone ceased loosing their arrows, and stillness fell over the ranks of soldiers.
In the circle of knights, Simon and Albert watched, eyes wide with amazement and horror, clothes spattered with the blood and flesh of those who had been foolish enough to attack the Angels.
On the battlements of Jerusalem, the five commanders saw the creatures cease their attacks on the infidels. The governor, beside them on the wall began muttering prayers to Allah, and Jibril found himself joining in, almost against his own will.
There is no hope for us, he thought. We are dead men.
Nyx’s wings grew out from her back, shaping themselves from flowing darkness and spreading wide. Slowly, she rose into the air between the two spikes with the screaming commander dangling from the top of them.
Nyx did not look at either man. She made a slight gesture, a flicking of her fingers, and something black and wet oozed up, ripping itself out of the men’s bodies and covering their mouths, silencing their screams even as it burned into their flesh and added to their agony.
Every man in the army stared at her, and even those who prayed and crossed themselves could not take their eyes off of her, nor contain the lust the sight of her naked flesh made rise up inside them.
“My crusaders,” she said, and once more her voice was calm and quiet and carried over the entire army. “My warriors. This is not a day for rebellion. It is not a day for failure. This is a day for victory.” She raised an arm and pointed at the city. “Look there. Look at Jerusalem, and the men and women who cower there.” Her voice filled with disdain. “They are people of God.” She spat the word out, as if clearing something foul from her mouth, and her derision and hated flowed over the entire army.
“God supports them! God gives them their strength! God, they will tell you, will give them victory over your army and allow them to drive you back into the sea!” She looked down on the men.
“A thousand years ago, God sent His son to this earth. He lived among you; He walked as one of you. And then do you know what happened?
“God betrayed Him!
“God, who was supposed to leave His son here to guide you, to bring you together under His banner and make the world one, God let His son be murdered because God could not bear anyone to be worshipped other than God!”
She rose higher, and her silver eyes glower red with her rage at the being who had dared to take her Tribunal, her lover, away from her.
“And on the day that your beloved saviour died, He called to me!” Her arms spread wide, as if embracing the entire army, and every man in the army responded, leaning, reaching toward her as if they could touch her.
“He told me of what God had done to you all. He told me of how God betrayed you!” Her voice dropped, becoming a near-whisper; a caress that seem
ed to touch every man in the army. “He told me that He, your savior, would not stand idly by and let God abandon you. He would not follow God’s plan for mankind. He would not be God’s fool, and direct you to worship this false and evil God who would see you all spend eternity in torment.
“He rejected God. He rejected the name God gave him, and picked one of His own!
“His true name is Tribunal,” the word flowed form her mouth like sunshine, warming the entire army. “And He has sent me to gather you together, to give you a new banner to follow.” He voice rose again, louder and louder, like the clarion call of trumpets, summoning the men to her. “He calls you now, to stand under the banner of Nyx. To reject God and to join with me, to conquer this earth together, and to then join Tribunal in Paradise!”
She looked over them all. “What will you do? Will you continue to follow God? To listen to the deceptions of His priests, whose words sent you to march across deserts, to suffer poison and sickness, to be killed at the hands of His other worshippers for his amusement? Or will you follow me? Will you march under my banner to victory and to Paradise?”
“Bollocks,” said Albert. “Shit and donkey’s balls, what do we do, Simon?”
Nyx’s voice thundered across the plain. “Who will follow me?! Who will march with me to victory?!”
“We do what we must,” said Simon. He took two steps forward and knelt. “I will follow!” he shouted. “I will follow for victory!”
Around him there was a moment of stunned silence, then one after another the knights knelt beside him, shouting out “I will follow! We will follow!!!”
In the army, one man knelt, then another, then a hundred, then a thousand, then thousands knelt screaming, “We will follow! We will follow!”
Nyx surveyed the ones who knelt, a smile on her face. Then her gaze turned dark as she looked over the ones that had not knelt. A dozen or so of the knights. A few hundred of the soldiers. All of the monks. They did not kneel to her and the expressions on their faces told her that nothing would make them do so.
“Prove your worth to me, my warriors,” her voice purred out over the army. “Prove to me your loyalty. Prove to me your strength. Kill those that do not kneel, and I will give you victory!”
Simon rose to his feet, and without hesitation dashed out the brains of the nearest standing knight with his morning star. The other knights and soldiers roared and surged up, killing men they had called “brother” only hours before, cutting and smashing their flesh until what remained barely looked human.
“Well done, my warriors!” Nyx spread her arms wide and a ripple of energy went through the entire army like a cool, refreshing breeze on this hot and deadly day. Blood and dirt fell away from clothes, rust fell from armor. Where before there had been ripped cloth and rent metal, now there was whole fabric and armor. The white of their tabards gleamed in the sun and the metal of their weapons and armor shone like new.
And when the last of the ripple passed, the men saw that the black crosses on their uniforms were now upside down.
Ishtar and Persephone spread their arms wide. Darkness flowed over them both and over Nyx, encasing all three in their skin-tight, black-scaled armor. Spikes grew from their heels. The bows in Iris’ and Persephone’s hands flowed and changed, becoming black-bladed swords, and in the other hand of all three, long, triple-headed whips grew.
“Follow me!” shouted Nyx, as she turned in the air and flew towards the walls of Jerusalem. The knights scrambled to their horses, and the sergeants screamed at their men, forcing them into battle order and bringing them together in formation. Nyx winged over them all, straight towards the main gate of the city. “Follow me!” she shouted again. “We will open the gates. And you will bring me Jerusalem!”
On the wall, the governor turned from the marching army and looked at his five commanders. He had not been a young man before the assault began, but now he seemed to age twenty years before their eyes. “There is no hope for survival against demons. You know this.”
The five nodded in mute assent.
“We must get as many of the women and children out as we can,” said the governor. “The old and infirm must be left behind. Send word through the city. Today we lose Jerusalem.”
He looked out over the advancing army. As he watched, it split into three. “They will take the south, east, and west gates,” said the Governor. “Send all the women and children you can find to the north gate. Count your men and send every fifth soldier with them, that the women and children may have a chance of survival. The rest of the men and you have only one task. You must slow the demons’ entry into Jerusalem, and delay their victory as long as possible.” He shook his head. “We are in God’s hands now. And for Him and our women and our children we shall hold off these demons as long as possible. Insha’Allah.”
“Insha’Allah,” echoed the five commanders.
“The first falls to you, Kamal,” said the Governor. “Take all your horses and men and attack their flanks. Slow them as much as you can.”
“I go,” said Kamal.
“Is this right?” asked one of the knights, his voice low. “Is this the right thing to do?”
“It is the only thing to do, you fool,” hissed Simon. “Look at them. Be they Angels or Devils from Hell, we cannot stand against them, and they offer us Jerusalem!”
“But our souls,” protested the knight. “What of our immortal souls?”
“Damn your cowardice!” shouted Simon. “The pope gave us all indulgence, did he not? He promised remission of all our sins if we took Jerusalem! Well, there is Jerusalem and there,” he pointed and Nyx’s black armored form, winging slowly toward Jerusalem. “There is how we will take it. So shut your mewling mouth and ride, because we will have this city by nightfall!”
One of the outriders galloped toward the main column of knights. “Horsemen!” he shouted. “Hundreds of them, coming from the east and west gates!”
“Right,” said Simon, getting a better grip on his new lance. “Time to earn our place in Paradise.”
Words passed back and forth and the column of knights split into two to meet the oncoming Saracen horsemen. Simon, leading one of the columns with Albert beside him, grinned as the horses grew closer. He nearly screamed out “Deus Vult,” then remembered himself. God had abandoned them all, and now it was time to serve the other side.
“Tribunal!” he shouted. “Tribunal and Nyx! Honor, glory, Tribunal and Nyx! Honor and glory!”
“Honor and glory!” screamed two hundred men behind him, and the two lines of cavalry crashed into one another in a screaming mass of blood and steel and broken horse and man flesh.
The main mass of the army was headed for the south gate, and it was there Jibril took his position. He had not stopped praying since he has stepped down from the wall, and even now his lips moved as he inspected the ranks of men before him. Some of the archers were left on the battlements, but no other defenders. The soldiers coming had no siege towers, no ladders. This battle would be fought in the streets.
The knights outnumbered the horsemen two to one, and knew in their hearts that victory was theirs. The Saracens did not retreat, did not surrender or ask for quarter. Again and again they wheeled their horses away, only to turn and once more to smash into the line of knights. They had one purpose only, to slow the advancing army.
Simon had not expected the Angels to join them in battle, but even as the lines of cavalry clashed together and Simon’s morning star cracked open its first skull, Ishtar swooped down from above, hacking two of the Saracens in half with her sword, and lashing a third in the face with such force that her whip tore through flesh and bone, ripping the man’s jaw off. Simon, busy fighting for his life, caught only glimpses of her, but heard screams on the far side of the battle, where no knights had yet reached, and saw bodies and parts of bodies flying through the air. Above the battle cries of both sides, Ishtar’s scream of joy and pleasure ripped through the ears of the crusaders and defenders ali
ke, spooking horses and causing even more chaos in the frenzied battle below her.
Simon pressed his horse forward, ignoring the panic in its eyes and the screams from its mouth as he sought out the leader of the horsemen. His morning star spun out in all directions. Beside him, Albert’s sword fell ceaselessly, hacking off limbs and hewing through heads.
The ground around them was littered with dead and dying men and horses. The cries of the dying and the screams of horses in agony sang like a counterpoint to the clanging cacophony of the battle. The Saracen captain was nearly in reach, but a pair of his lieutenants, men as big as Simon and Albert, riding crazed, blood-soaked warhorses stood between them and their target. The two knights rushed forward to meet the two warriors, and for the next moments the world was reduced to clashing steel and cries of battle and vicious attempts to kill the other man. The four men fought to a near-stalemate, neither side able to get the better of the other.
There was a scream from above, and Ishtar’s black-clad body descended on the captain, ripping him from the saddle with claws that dug deep through his armor and flesh and ribs to grip him. She pulled him high into the air, screaming with wild delight. Her teeth were now fangs, razor-sharp and too long for her mouth. Kamal screamed in agony, even as he tried to slash out with his long, curved sword, using arms rendered suddenly weak by his shock-ravaged body.
Ishtar opened her mouth wide, wider than any human mouth could, wider than it should have been possible, and bit down hard on Kamal’s throat. Blood sprayed out and the man’s screams of agony ended abruptly as his windpipe was ripped from his body and spat on the remaining Saracens below.
The other defenders hesitated, and many of them died for it. Some broke away, fleeing across the desert, riding for their lives. Ishtar swooped over them, the sword and whip back in her hands, hacking and lashing out so that none escaped.