“So, this is the best of the best?” Liam asked, looking at Mary.
She nodded, her lips pursed.
The City of the Dead Gods thrummed with energy – remarkable for a place that had seemed to be nearly abandoned. If the citizens weren't on the walls, they were preparing for the battle and waiting for the end. One way or the other.
And about two hundred and change of the best mercenaries and cut throats the city had were standing on the dais before the palace of the Free Lord.
Liam felt, curiously, as if he had been catapulted backwards Earth. In the bronze armor, leather padding and high plumed helmet that Vani's wife had made for him, he felt as if he was wearing the HEMA gear that he had worn what felt like a lifetime ago. His hand went to the scabbard of his longsword and he looked back at the soldiers.
“And the uniforms?”
Mary actually grinned.
“Hey.” She shrugged. “I said you'd approve. You're Christian, after all.”
Each of the soldiers that Mary had scraped from the City of the Dead Gods was dressed in white surcoats that had hastily had a lurid red cross stitched over their fronts. Liam smiled despite himself. Disconnected for millennia, untouched by any of Earth history or wars, and yet Mary had still chosen a garb that looked like it had stepped right from the Crusades.
The distant sound of an army marching was carried on the winds.
“Men, women,” Liam said, pitching his voice to carry. His belly buzzed and his nerves burned. But as he spoke, he felt both of those starting to fade. “Today, we are going to change history. I am the Free Lord of this city. In my world, being the Free Lord doesn't mean that you get to boss others around and give orders. It means you've taken responsibility on your shoulders to see your people through the trials and the dangers of the world. And today, that danger is clear: an army of sons of bitches are going to try and scale the walls. They're going to burn our homes. Kill and rape our families. They are going to leave this city a cinder...”
He saw quite a few people in his audience growl at that. Some looked detached. Others were nodding.
Liam started to pace before them, his back straight. He spoke louder now.
“There are four thousand of them and a thousand of us. But what will make or break this day is not that we are fighting from walls, and it is not their Eye of Ra.” He shook his head. “It's not even Delenn.” He drew his sword, squeezing the hilt to cause the magical energy within to surge with heat. Even during the brightness of the day, the flash was dramatic. He grinned. “It's that we fight for something.”
He sheathed his blade.
“We wear the cross, for we have seen it used on our loved ones and it holds no fear for us. We all pray to many gods, but we fight for one cause: this city and one another.” He paused. “My homeland has a motto: E. Pluribus. Unum.”
He looked around at the crowd. “From many, one.
There was a faint murmur among the crowd. He saw more nodding heads.
Liam lifted his fist. “From many!” he shouted.
“One!” the men and women shouted back, raggedly.
“From many!”
“One!” This time it was a roar.
Liam nodded. “This I like.” He grinned. “Now, let's go kill some motherfuckers.”
The elite soldiers may not have trained together, but they looked good as they marched in uniform towards towards the sally port.
Like all big cities with big walls, the City of the Dead Gods had incorporated quite a few tricks and traps that made defending it easier. A sally port was a small, concealed doorway that troops could emerge from to attack the enemy in a surprise flanking maneuver. As they marched to the door, Liam nodded to himself. The best horses in town had been brought there and saddled with the saddles he had shown the leather workers. Saddles equipped with stirrups.
Stirrups weren't unknown in Purgatory. But the stirrups used by Earth cavalry from the middle ages onwards were sturdier. And having every saddle bearing them – and a saddle horn to make it easier to use a lance without being unhorsed – were tiny refinements that Liam hoped would serve him and his men and women well.
Meg flew down from the sky, panting. She was clad in light armor and had her javelins at her side. “The airforce and I have finished our scouting,” she said, puffing. “Borins not doing anything complicated. His army's in a big block, walking straight at the least defended of the walls.”
“And the hidden forces?” Liam asked.
“Tethis and her magic seems to be working. Now...” She grinned at him, bloodthirstily. “Permission to harry the fuckers.”
“Harry away. But be careful.”
“Pff,” Meg said, waving her hand. “You've got twenty six valkyrie and if this city can do one thing, it's make javelins.”
Her wings spread, but she paused to lean over and kiss Liam on the cheek. The fact he was wearing a helmet that covered most of his head was entirely disregarded. Then she shot into the air, joining her fellows in the heavens. Liam shook his head.
“Scipio Africanus never had to worry about this shit,” he muttered. “No magic, no flying women, no priests.”
“No fun, if you ask me.”
Liam looked over and saw Laurentinus seated on his pony. The goblin's smaller size didn't stop him from looking pretty lethal, his hand going to the lance that was holstered on his saddle. Though, smaller was relative - Laurentinus was easily a head taller than Tethis.
“You know how to use a lance?” he asked.
“Fuck no,” Liam laughed. “I'm just here to look pretty.”
Then the sounds of battle started.
Arrows shot over the wall,thudding into the flat rooftops of the city. A few screams came from citizenry. But Liam was pretty sure those were screams of fear, not pain. Liam reached down and tugged out his iPod. He tapped it on and then looked at the sky.
“Now, let's see if Tethis' magic works,” he said.
“What's that?” Laurentinus asked, leaning over.
“A scrying mirror,” Liam said.
His phone's screen fuzzed and he saw a grainy, confused looking image. Tapping it a few times, he felt the phone growing hot as it strained with unexpected work. Then he saw it: a clear picture of the armies from overhead. Or, more accurately, a clear image of the vast clouds of dust that were growing up and around the marching troops approaching the walls. His eyes narrowed and he tapped the screen. “There. There! See! A bunch of troops are stepping aside. And those fast things-”
“Cavalry,” Laurentinus said, gruffly. “They're going for the walls. Storming them.”
Liam looked over towards the wall where the battle would be taking place. Men and women in the militia were standing on them, firing bows and slings, and hurling spears and rocks down into the masses of the enemy. Ladders thumped into place and the roar of battle sounded. Liam tensed.
This was so much easier in a videogame where one could see and manage everything. A thousand questions roared through his brain. Would his troops hold? Would the surprise on the wall hold till the right time? Could he get there in time? He gulped. Would he survive? And there was just time - so little time - for one last worry. Would Liv be okay? He closed his eyes and thought a prayer for her, trapped with Brax and Sysminor’s army. Then all the questions and all the fear faded away as the sally port was flung open by several men on the ground.
Liam kneed his horse into a trot – thanking God that he had had a year to get used to riding the damn things. He was still no horseman, but at least he wasn't an utter embarrassment.
Only two horsemen could ride through the sally port at a time. Fortunately, horses were fast. The two hundred men and women of Liam's elite force – have to think of a name for that – formed up, hidden by the wall. Liam looked back, to see if the dust they had kicked up was rising over the wall. He hoped not. He lifted his hand, gesturing and kneeing his horse into a faster canter. They came to the corner of the wall – and there, Liam saw that Borin had stationed his archers on a wide flank, the prevailing winds blowing dust away from them.
The archers didn't sound their horns – they either hadn't noticed the flanking attack, or they weren't as disciplined as they should have been.
Liam drew Delenn. He held her over his head, the sword flaring with energy and heat. He bellowed, at the top of his lungs:“From many!”
His horse broke into a gallop and the only reason Liam didn't go tumbling from its back was sheer fucking luck. His free hand grabbed onto the reins, and he tried to both hold on and not throttle the poor beast as it charged forward.
“One!” the rest of his men and women shouted.
They came in a ragged, almost delta-V formation, thundering around the wall. The sounds of their horns were more than just a moral boost.
They were a signal.
Liam didn't dare look away from the Eye of Ra and the command platform that held Borin the Black on it. The general himself was just as hideous as Liam had heard: short, malformed, with armor painted as black as night. His face was concealed by the only bit of white on his armor – a skull painted on his face covering helmet. How he survived in the heat of the day, Liam didn't want to know.
But even without looking, he could hear the shouts from the walls.
“Volley! Volley! Volley!”
“From many!”
“One!”
All the reserves that Liam and Laurentinus had placed on the wall, those hidden by Tethis' 'don't notice me spell' stood up. A hail of sling shots slammed into Borin's infantry and dismounted cavalry. Arrows rattled off shields and found flesh. Javelins and spears with weight, gravity and brute desperation on their side punched through armor.
And then Liam and his elite troops smashed into the screen of soldiers that surrounded the general. They were well drilled and well trained, but the flank attack had come so suddenly that they hadn't even formed a spear wall. Liam brought his sword smashing down and released the magical energy that it had collected. The woman he hit exploded. Blood misted the air around him and the soldiers nearby turned and ran, unwilling to face a bellowing giant armed with death.
Borin the Black let loose a torrent of curses which resolved into a simple command: “Kill him!”
But the rest of Liam's elite guard were cutting forward, pushing on despite slain soldiers and wounded horses. Sword met shield and lance pierced through breastplates as the last of the guard between Liam and Borin were hacked down. Liam spurred his mount and he sweat flecked, blooded horse thundered forward, blowing out large puffs of air from its nostrils.
Liam lifted his sword over his head. Arrows shot past him.
“From many!” he shouted.
The counter call still came.
“One!”
And Borin did what Liam had hoped for. What Liam had dreamed of.
He did what a hundred unnamed generals had done, throughout the ages, their names forgotten because of this moment. Generals who made this one mistake at a time where empires were on the line and the future of worlds could be made or broken.
Darius III had seen Alexander the Great – a giant of a man and a terrifying presence on the battlefield – charging towards him. A lunatic with a sword, howling for his blood.
Liam was no Alexander.
But, then again, Borin was no Darius.
Borin turned and ran. He ran as fast as he could, considering his ostentatious black armor. Liam glanced back and saw that the fates were kind. The dust had blown away and the survivors of Borin's army were drawing back from the sudden withering fire from the wall. They were looking back and seeing the flags fall. Seeing their general scrambling aboard his black horse and riding desperately away as Liam's warriors - his terrible warriors, clad in blood red crosses! - chased him with swords raised.
It was like a rock smashing into a pond. The ripple flew outwards – and the ripple was fear. Men and women started to run. Whole regiments wavered and broke. Standards were shaken and horns blew as officers tried to coordinate, but Liam called his men together.
They may have never drilled together but a six foot tall man holding a flaming sword is hard to miss, even on the chaos of a battlefield.
Once together, his elite guard smashed into the few units that were trying to organize. Valkyrie flew down in groups, hurling javelins and sling stones into the enemy with their superhuman strength.
Standards fell.
Flags were trampled.
And in the end, thousands of men and women -facing the grim choice between fleeing into the desert to die and throwing down their arms – knelt to the ground, ragged in defeat.
Borin fled into the Basilisk Desert.
His bones were never found.
* * *
The sounds of celebration could be heard through the floor and through the window. Liam lay back in his bed, fingers laced behind his neck as he reclined in luxury and let Meg do all the work.
Her hips rose and her hips fell and her breasts jiggled delightfully as her palms caressed Liam's chest. Her fingers touched the other gift she had given him: a brand new crucifix, specially made for him. Her sex squeezed on his cock as her hands squeezed his shoulders. Her skin glistened with sweat and she tossed her head back as her sex clenched around Liam's cock like a fist. Meg moaned exuberantly, her wetness dripping along Liam's balls as she shuddered atop him.
“Fuck, that's some good stuff,” she said, panting heavily as she picked up a small goblet that was seated on the nightstand beside the massive bed that they shared.
Liam grinned shakily. “Are you sure it's safe? The merchant called it nightfire.”
“Fuck yeah, it's safe!” Meg said, nodding and licking the now mostly dry goblet, moaning hungrily. She tossed the goblet over her shoulder. “Besides, conquering hero needs her re-ah-ahh!” She shuddered, her eyes widening. The bright blue glow that Liam found so comforting actually flickered as her face twisted into a mask of pleasure. Her sex didn't so much squeeze him as suck on his cock as she worked her hips up and down, up and down, moving in a frenzy of passion.
Liam grabbed Meg's ass and let himself get lost in the feeling of her. She molded against him, her wings closing tight around him as Liam drove his hips up into her, no longer willing to be lazy. Meg tossed her head back, wailing wordlessly. Liam grunted and thrust up so hard that his balls swung up and slapped her right on the ass, bringing another, quieter wail of happiness from Meg.
Then...
Then Liam grunted and filled Meg to the brim. There was nothing poetic about it and yet the world felt more complete as his hands clung to her back, tracing the connection between her wings and her back. Liam felt tensions he hadn't known he felt fade as Meg kissed his neck. His cum dripped along his cock, slipping along his balls.
They lay in the haze of the fucking.
Liam's brow furrowed. “Wait, I thought I was the conquering hero.”
Meg scoffed, her response muffled by kissing his neck. He heard something something air support something something Eisenhower. He snorted, loudly, then slapped her ass.
“You are not Dwight D. Eisenhower. For one things, I would not be balls deep in you, you silly creature,” Liam said, laughing. Meg blew a raspberry on his neck. Liam laughed.
A knock came at the door to the room, audible despite the laughing and the music and the cheering that came from the streets and the lobby of the palace. Liam pushed Meg gently. Meg remained clasped to him. Liam pushed harder. The knock came again. “Liam?”
Liam groaned. “Meg, come on, I'm the Free Lord, I need to get to work.”
“Noooo!” Meg giggled, quietly. “If they elected you, they can get erected by you.” She giggled again.
“Note to self, never let you have nightfire again,” Liam groaned as Meg fluttered her wings and spread her limbs even more, trapping Liam firmly on the bed. The door opened a crack and Mary stuck her head through the opening. She turned even darker red than normal and froze. Meg, though, sat up, her wings snapping shut behind her back. She grinned and thrust out her tits.
“Mary! Does your variation of, uh, Christmolanism, uh, wait, no, let me start again,” Meg said, blinking.
Liam – seeing her wobble slightly – put his finger on her chest and pushed gently. Meg squeaked and fell onto her back, laughing. His cock slipped from her sex and Liam grabbed his pillow and jammed it over his crotch. He coughed.
“Sorry about that, Mary,” he said. “What's up?”
“I came to, ah,” Mary said, before turning around. Her tail lashed from side to side. “I came to discuss some important, well, Council business.”
Liam nodded. He soon had Meg tucked away and himself dressed. He tapped Mary on the shoulder, then gestured to the balcony. Once they were out of the room and away from the smell of sex, Mary looked more relaxed. Though, Liam noticed, her tail did keep lashing from side to side. Her nipples thrust out against the thin leather strap she wore across her breasts. Liam gritted his teeth and tried to ignore her pheromones.
“I've been raising money and means with the people I've met during the occupation,” Mary said, nodding. “Enough to buy a slot on the Council.”
“Oh? Good,” Liam said, his hands grabbing onto the railing. “I need a lot of help.”
Mary smiled. “It is nice to hear I am wanted.”
“Oh, yeah, I want you bad,” Liam said, nodding. “I really-” He stopped and flushed brightly. “I mean, not that way. Well, uh, I mean, yes, but-”
Mary laughed, quietly. “We're going to be awkward for a while, aren't we?”
“It'll keep things interesting.” Liam tried to not think about her being fucked by a large, buff lizardman. He tried to not imagine what her pussy would feel like. His eyes slid up and down her body, and he knew that she wouldn't take him up on an offer, just by looking at her eyes. He could see her desire but also see her dedication to her faith.
And he could respect that.
“The City of the Dead Gods feels like a new place. I've never seen anything like your elite guard before – and the people I've talked to say that tensions between faiths are down. Why care if one worships Sobek or Ra or Mary if there's Sysminor walking around out there.” Mary sighed. “Can it last?”
“It will,” Liam said. “This city is going to change the future of Purgatory.”
“Already got plans to conquer the world?” Mary asked.
“Oh, no, no,” Liam said, shaking his head. “No. But this war – it's going to be between me and Brax.”
“That’s a lot you got from one conversation,” Mary said.
Liam chuckled. “It was a weighty conversation. But still, even if Brax trips down a flight of stairs and snaps his neck, we also have whatever Genotype A has activated in the lizardmen – and us. Our advantage will be here.” His hand tapped the balcony. “The biggest city - the biggest manufacturing base - in the world.” He smiled. “We're going to be the arsenal of the resistance.”
“And everyone who buys our weapons gets to see how democracy and religious liberty works?” Mary arched an eyebrow.
“I'll admit that is the idea, yes.”
Liam turned back to look at the city. “But the city needs a new name.”
Mary's tail slapped his back. He glanced at her and saw she was looking distracted, unaware that her tail was currently sliding up and down Liam's spine. “Yesss,” she said, slowly, her fangs glinting in the reflected light of the city as a parade continued along below them. “The City of the Dead Gods – it's not a name you use for hope. For a new world.”
Liam smiled. “I already picked one. Babylon.”
“The fabled city?” Mary asked. “Where they built a tower?”
“Where everyone worked together – the source of all the diversity of the world as everyone's languages changed.” Liam grinned. “And a glorious thing to build. Something I think God will appreciate now that he's had a family, settled down, and chilled the fuck out.”
“You have an interesting faith, Liam...” Mary smiled.
“Thanks.” He shook his head. “But speaking of faith, I want someone to organize an interfaith…” He snapped his fingers. “Not an organization, but a kind of... a forum. A place where debates can be held. Where people can interact and have their problems aired and dealt with without violence.”
Mary nodded, her tail sliding up and down his spine, tracing the lines of his muscles through his shirt. “I like it.
“Do you want to be a part of it?” Liam asked. “I want someone who knows these people to help organize it.” The touch of her tail was starting to make him dizzy.
“I think I can handle that,” Mary purred. Her nipples were hardening against her straps - announcing that the contact was filling her with the same high. Liam could remember those breasts, bared and bouncing as a lizardman plowed her, as if he was still there.
He leaned forward, his voice soft. “Another thing I can do, now that I’m the lord of a a city?”
Mary blinked, those bright eyes of her looking confused. The urge to kiss her was as intense as it had ever been. Liam could imagine tugging those straps aside. Sucking her breasts into his mouth. Fucking her. Taking her. Making her moan. But then... then he shook his head. She would enjoy it. He would enjoy it. But he knew both wouldn’t be happy with who they were, afterwards. He forced himself to step back.
“Spies. For finding Liv, I mean,” Liam said. Flushing, Mary jerked her tail away from his back.
“Of course!” she said, crossing her arms over her breasts to hide her arousal. Not that it hid the scent of her. “She’s a great warrior, having her returned would help us. A lot.”
“I’d have sent spies after her if she were a lame goblin with buck teeth,” Liam said. “We call ourselves a free city. That’s going to be true - and a symbol. Freedom to worship, freedom from slavery, all of it. It’s why I called us Babylon.”
“They had no slaves in the mythic Babylon?” Mary asked.
“Not Babylon 5,” Liam said with a grin.
“And the elite guard?” Mary asked. “They're a symbol too. What will you name them?”
“Oh, them?” Liam smiled.
His fingers caressed the cross hanging from his chest. Knowing that it had been given to him by Meg - slid around his neck by her hands and kissed by her lips - comforted him. But there was something more about the symbol. . His eyes glinted as he looked into the darkness and the light.
They were going to make it mean something new on Purgatory, just as Jesus had done.
“I'm thinking...” His smile grew wider. “The Cross Guard.”