The Infernal bellowed, stumbling backward, but it was too late.
Garkhen's squad-mates surged forwards, and soon the huge beast toppled,
its back making a loud thud as it struck the ground. And then it...
disintegrated, its body turning to dust and blowing away in the wind.
That got the attention of the other Infernals nearby, all of whom roared
and charged.
Garkhen had, by now, recovered from being knocked around by a giant
Infernal. He felt a great anger swelling up in him as he looked at the
charging Infernals. These evil beasts had already killed many men, and
if they were the source of the undead, also, they had killed many more
with their servants.
Before he knew it, a deep growl built in his chest, growing in volume
until it became a roar to match that of the charging demons. And then,
with a great crash, they met the line of soldiers. Their charge was
fierce, but the line held, and blessed steel made short work of the
Infernals. One survivor sought to flee, but an arrow to the back of its
neck brought it down.
“Good you're here, Private,” someone behind Garkhen said, but before he
could turn to look, shouted orders came down for them to quick march
towards the next group of devils. They reached them to find their
comrades faring somewhat better than the first group they had
reinforced, but not well. Their arrival changed that rather quickly.
Several more Infernals fell.
Twice more, they sped to the aid of other groups of soldiers. Twice
more, they slew demons. And twice more, the order came to go further.
Garkhen by now was starting to feel fatigued, the combined effort of
maintaining the blessing on his comrades' weapons, the speed of their
march, and the exertion of battle wearing on even his hearty
constitution.
But then, as they neared the next group of soldiers, other
reinforcements reached them. Before they arrived, the demons were
destroyed. And then they realized—the other soldiers were not of their
army. They were Rebels.
******
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