155 Chapter One Hundred and Fifty-Five – One-Two (1/2)
Not too long ago, after a certain Mark /Omnitell...
The ceremony was progressing nicely. The priests were chanting, the sacrifice of hapless peasants was completed, the blood-filled pentagram was burning, and the Calling was nearing completion.
The Portal was forming slowly but surely. The faithful prayed in ecstasy as a shadow appeared in it, the devil arriving that would help lead them in their quiet grasping for power in the Eastern Kingdom. A slender clawed hand, bones and muscles not set like a human, extended out of the opening as the Caelixcriai started to come through-
There was a crunching sound, and something seemed to grab the devil from behind. Both visible hands twitched, and were abruptly hauled back into the Portal. The ecstatic calls and prayers began to falter uncertainly as the conspirators, Hellbound, and Hellpriests stared at the hole to Hell before them.
The motion beyond was surged, and before the hole could close, two large forms jumped through it, skidding across the pentagram before coming to a halt.
They were Hell Hounds, that was perfectly obvious, and big ones. The one on the right was tall and broad-chested, scarred by fights, fur black as pitch, with hellfire eyes and saliva dripping like lava. He was munching on a familiar arm casually as it looked over the assembled humans with burning eyes, dark smoke rising from his nostrils.
Looking rather out of place, an odd symbol that was asymmetrically Not Diabolic glowed on the black hound's forehead, white around lines of black.
The other hound was just as large, but cold, icy blue-white, eyes burning hellrime, every puff of breath making carbon dioxide condense into snow. She – they could only picture her as a she – was also crunching a familiar arm casually, flash-frozen in her jaws and shattering as she chewed.
She had that weird symbol on her forehead, too.
The two hellhounds looked at one another, then back at the stupefied conspirators there.
They swallowed the arms of a certain devil who had been about to be Called to the Material Plane, said destination they were very interested in reaching. They had addressed his objections, and he wouldn't be contesting their taking his place.
Together, they stepped forwards, bending their heads slightly, and the Marks on their heads flared with a very un-Hellish light.
Which was really, really not a good thing when your Summoning Pentagram is made to stop diabolics.
The invisible seal of the pentagram went out with a poof, the bloody sacrificial flames were quenched, and the two hell hounds stepped out.
Someone started to panic, and then the two hell hounds opened their jaws and let out a One-Two.
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The building was in flames, and a lot of sinister souls went wafting off to hell. The two great beasts, six feet high at the shoulder, moved through the night with deceptive speed and stealth through the city. Nobody wanted to mess with them, and they didn't bother with anyone out that late, most of whom thought two horses had gotten free.
The white one found a length of rope hanging out, and they raced towards the city walls, as the gates were closed and would take too much time to open. The black one reared up high against the stone, the white one ran right up his backside, and scrabbled to the battlement overhead. She turned and let down the rope, which he gripped firmly in his jaws, tensing.
The white one leapt over the outside battlements, still holding onto the rope, and as it pulled taut, the black one sprang, easily reaching the top of the battlements as the white one hit the ground. Without any hesitation, he scrabbled over the lip and jumped down after her, hitting the ground without any problem.
The guard on duty in the tower blinked at the sight of two huge dogs using a rope to get over the city wall, shook his head, and decided that reporting this could wait until he was sure he wouldn't be judged drunk while on duty. Besides, that fire over in the warehouse district was more eye-catching, no one wanted to hear a story about giant dogs...
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There were a lot of miles between where they came in and where they needed to go. Thankfully, the two of them had a Map right there, telling there where they were, and where they needed to go. They were also hounds, made for endurance hunting, and so running for hours and hours wasn't all that difficult, especially with otherworldly physiques that meant they didn't have to worry about mortal weaknesses like eating or drinking.
Occasionally they stopped to rest, nuzzling gently as they did, steam popping as they touched carefully, taking care not to injure one another. Nothing in the forests and open fields they were traveling through wanted to bother them, and as for the humans who saw them from a distance, they didn't want to mess with them, either.
They were heading north.
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The Northmarch of the Empire of Rosencruz was separated from the East by the great river called the Feralbar. It formed a convenient wall against the feral tribes further east, and a clear demarcation between the Center Rose and the Northmarch. It was also a couple of miles wide at this point, and nothing that a non-aquatic beast wanted to swim. Although they'd seen the Styx and weren't impressed by any kind of mortal terrain, they both turned up their noses as the river came into view.
Thankfully, it wasn't something they had to worry about.
Sergeant Oshken was an archer and a hunter, with years of patrolling the borders of the kingdom looking for Feral incursions and smugglers alike. Naturally, taking a boat across the Feralbar wasn't all that difficult for him, and he just paddled his canoe up to a convenient spot and waited.
The forest going very suddenly silent was all the alarm he needed, even if he couldn't track them coming. The hell-born aura of the two arrivals was more than enough to terrify any normal animal, and no magical one would want to deal with them if the pair were just passing through on their way to elsewhere.