The Lyran Connection

By Nicholas Bruce

Gazhena Hadal is Gatekeeper of the Outpost, a covert organisation established during the Energy Wars - the war for the last of Earth's resources. Stationed in the deadly zone known as the Courtyard, he defends humanity's best chance at salvation - a meteor fragment with special properties known as 'electronite'.

But his fight is no longer just against the criminal conglomerate running the world. Off world entities - and the demons that have lurked in the shadows for millennia - seek to snuff out electronite's light. 

 

Keeping the underworld at bay is his day job, but after a Reptilian general opens a portal in the Courtyard - leading demons into their reality - Gazhena knows they need allies. He's seen the forces of darkness at work, and he's also heard the rumours about the Blood Moon. If the enemy returns during that window, before the Outpost has found reinforcements...

But revealing the existence of electronite to an Earthbound force would also mean their end.

 

Then Akityl, an extraterrestrial claiming to have sent the meteor fragment, arrives. His people have fallen to the Reptilian onslaught, but he believes he can still save them with the Gatekeeper's help. 

Knowing Akityl is their best chance at survival, Gazhena must form an unlikely alliance and step into another's world. They'll have to overcome impossible odds and their own private hells -  all before the Blood Moon rises.

 

The politics are beyond perilous. When even demons have masters, it's clear the fate of all their worlds is intertwined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicholas Bruce
• Release date: Dec 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215887288

Nicholas Bruce

Nicholas Bruce is an avid reader of crime thriller, science fiction and fantasy, and started writing creatively for his friends from a young age. Born in Asuncion, Paraguay, he attended the University of Salamanca and Wits University, and once studied under Shifu Yanjun at the Maitreya temple in Yunnan, China. In 2018, Odd Magazine published his short story Memories Belie the Footprints in the Snow. More recently, Nicholas self-published  The Night Keepers — a dark fantasy inspired in part by his time working with timber wolves.

Book preview

Chapter 1  The Outpost

Golden hills flecked with snow rolled beneath the helicopter, and Brogan Smith took it all in with a building unease. They banked low, almost scraping the tops of the pines. Brogan noticed his knuckles were white from gripping the handle above the door. He forced a deep breath and relaxed his hold.

First day on the job. He'd had a few of those, but... It was to be his first day as newly installed Head of Security at The Outpost, a top secret defence organisation slash research and development facility that he had only recently become aware of. Brogan assumed that the Outpost was involved in... Actually, he had no idea. He recalled his interview with its leader Sahecha Kichwa, an elderly man with eyes that were disarming and warm in a face that was broad and lined. He could have been indigenous Sami or South American. It was impossible to tell. The Kaffa Roastery was quiet yet full, customers drinking strong brews with sleepy, content looks on their faces. None of them paid Brogan and Sahecha much attention while Sahecha offered just enough information about the contract to pique Brogan's interest.

Despite the lack of intel, and despite the briefness of their meet, Brogan sensed he could trust the Outpost's leader. He felt the weight of the role the Outpost played in global security, even though it was obviously not attached to any formally recognised military or security department that he could tell.

And he still wasn't sure what they protected the world from.

The helicopter thrummed over more glistening lakes and dark forest. He barely noticed.  Just what was he getting himself into? He grit his teeth.  It was too late to back out now.

Brogan had been granted an honourary discharge from maritime duty with special awards after a firefight in the Baltic had just about shorn off his left arm at the shoulder. After two agonising years of surgeries and rehabilitation with a sadistic chiropractor, Brogan had just about regained full movement of his arm. The rest of his crew, however...

He sighed. The physical damage had been one thing, but deep down, beneath all the stalwartness and psychological armour... he knew that his final operation with the North Atlantic Navy had scarred him in places physical therapy could never rehabilitate. He had answered all the psych's questions, and nodded when he'd needed to nod, and got on with it when he felt numb inside, but... the bodies –  his friends - floating in the water... After several days and nights attached to a piece of wreckage barely big enough to keep him from drowning or freezing – whichever came first – he'd been spotted by base's sea-rescue helicopter. The cold he had experienced, ironically, had saved his life, but not before seeping into his being, fundamentally altering him.

Whisky offered some respite, its fire a comfort that allowed him to feel something other than that.

Prepare for landing, came a static voice through the headset.

Dread, creeping and cold, took hold of Brogan once more. He felt his old shoulder wound stab as he gripped the handle tighter, and he wished he could reach for a glass of something now.

Brogan, once we're down, report to the Gatekeeper in the Courtyard, said the pilot. A taciturn man of average build, he now flashed a grin at Brogan. A sentinel will be waiting to lead you there.

Copy that, Brogan responded, pleased to have directives. Then he paused. The Gatekeeper... Sahecha had mentioned him briefly in their interview. Brogan didn't know what to make of him. All Sahecha had said was that he'd been involved in darker than black operations all around the world, but had gone to ground once the Energy Wars had left the world in a dizzied and wide-eyed stalemate. There were no official records of a Gazhena Hadal, anywhere. And that name... Some kind of alias?

The helo passed over a clearing in the pinewood forest, and Brogan took in sprawling bunkers and buildings that blended in well with their  surroundings. They set down on a faint X, and sentinels in dark-blue uniforms raced towards them with lowered semi-automatic weapons. Through the window, Brogan read the urgency in their grim expressions. His heart began to pound. He'd seen that look on the faces of his crew before they'd had hell reign down on them. Then the rotors were cutting off and the sentinels were pulling open the doors.

Breach in the Courtyard, code red! the sentinel shouted in a Finnish accent. We need reinforcements in the Gate Corridor, now!

She paused, regarding Brogan. Her eyes were grey as steel, and he felt as though she were analysing him for weak points.

Brogan Smith, she said tersely, my name's Amelie. Your deputy head of Security. Follow me.

They raced through the Outpost, and Brogan barely had a chance to take any of it in. The place was abuzz with warning lights and sentinels rallying to fortify the base. Amelie waved a keycard before a panel, and they entered a low building that turned out to have a vast underground facility. Cool lights burned at intervals overhead. He followed Amelie down a flight of stairs into a room crammed with monitors and technology he'd never seen before.

Update! Amelie shouted breathlessly.

Still locked out, responded an elderly woman with a thick German accent seated before a central monitor. She nodded at Brogan. You must be our new Head of Security, she said distractedly. Welcome. Head of Research and Development, Ina Wendelborn.

Brogan nodded, shifting his gaze from the dishevelled Research and Development Head to the monitor. It took him a moment to register why his blood had run cold. There were multiple views of what he assumed was the Courtyard. A dark-haired man of average height and compact build stalked soundlessly from some kind of energy wall towards an archway. The archway overlooked a slope that seemed to drop into darkness.

Is he insane, locking himself in there with them alone? Amelie muttered. He could have reinforcements in there in seconds. Brogan didn't miss the way her voice shook, or that her grip on the rifle had turned her knuckles white.

He's Gazhena, Ina sighed, and he's only following standard operating procedure. The Gate must remain closed until we find a way to destroy their portals.

He could have at least asked Maheegun and Sandra to watch his six, Amelie muttered. Kyanai, what's going on with the electrics? she asked, tapping her headset. Kyanai! She pulled off the earpiece and glared at it.

Whatever they did to the electronite shield damaged our comms, Ina said without taking her eyes off the screen.

Well how long before we're back online? Amelie pressed.

Ina went on staring at the Courtyard feed.

So that's the Gatekeeper, Brogan thought as he tracked Gazhena's movements. A shiver ran down his spine. The man named Gazhena stopped beneath the archway, glaring down at something only he could see.

Hang on, what portals? Brogan barked suddenly, louder than he'd intended.

Which do you think? the steely-eyed sentinel beside him growled. Theirs!

Only then did Brogan understand the dread he'd felt on the journey there. The shadows in the Courtyard weren't shadows, nor some security feed glitch. They were... alive, and swarming up the slope towards Gazhena.

Brogan's mouth dropped open. At the base of the Courtyard between the pines, he took in the inky black doorways, and more of those shadows tearing through.

If we don't find a way to destroy those portals, Gazhena won't... Amelie began.

Well, let's get in there then! Brogan cried. He didn't understand what he was seeing, but he'd be damned if he was going to just stand idly by and watch a man die. He'd drawn the Sig Sauer handgun at his side without realising it.

No, Ina said sharply, for the first time turning to give him her full attention. He's on his own for now. These enemies are not like anything you know, Mr Smith. Bullets won't stop them.

Brogan glared at her, then turned to Amelie. A muscle jumped in her jaw, but then she too bowed her head. She's right, Brogan. Our weapons are ill-effective against demons.

Demons? he wondered dimly. Just where the hell had he been stationed?

Those shadows – no, demons – were swarming up the slope now, and even from the control room Brogan could sense the chaos in their nature. Helplessly, he watched the Gatekeeper flex his hands and prepare to face the oncoming tide.

For now, all we can do is work on reinstating control of our auxiliary energy shield, Ina said, punching two different keyboards on separate monitors at light speed. Amelie, tell my protege Kyanai that I need him to reconfigure the wave patterns at the Courtyard's base.

Amelie nodded, relaying the message into her headset. Kyanai, do you read..? Goddammit! she cried before racing off.

Welcome to the Outpost, Mr Smith, said Ina.

Chapter 2  The Gatekeeper

THE DEMONS RIPPED FROM the shadows, screeching and clawing over one another to enter the physical plane.

How the hell did they get through the shield? Gazhena wondered. His stomach lurched as they spilled between the broken semi-circle of stone walls at the foot of the Courtyard and made their way up the hill towards him, like buried memories unearthing themselves.

Only, memories usually couldn't kill you.

Gazhena raced up the stone corridor and activated the Gate. There was a loud hum as  crackling blue energy spanned from wall to wall, sealing the passageway to the Outpost village, to the rest of the world, behind it.

And sealing Gazhena in the Courtyard with them.

He pressed the comms beside the Gate. Ina, we have visitors. He tried to keep his voice even.

I can see that! came the familiar thick German accent.  But, how-

"I don't know, Gazhena cut in, conscious that the demons' screeching was getting closer. Send sentinels and boost shielding at the base of the Courtyard, they're getting through."

With that, he flexed his hands and stalked down the red brick upper level into the stone corridor that led to the archway. Pine needles crunched beneath his steel-lined boots, and an icy wind slashed his face. All the while, those unearthly screams grew louder. Gazhena tapped the knife sheathed at his side, an ingrained habit after thirteen years of carrying the black Insurgent blade. It took his mind off the hammering in his chest.

He wore bracers of hybrid materials on his forearms, hidden beneath his favourite dark-blue jacket. The bracers, Kyanai from Research and Development told him, could deflect any blade, and absorb the shock from virtually any impact. The jacket, if less strategic than the kevlar mesh black t-shirt beneath it, was warm and his favourite colour.

On his hands were tactical gloves with metal studs over the knuckles. In the pockets of the baggy cargo pants he wore was a cellphone hooked up to the Outpost's hidden network and an extra granola bar.

On the surface, Gazhena looked as unassuming as a civilian.

Like his attire, the Courtyard was designed for function as much as form, engineered to funnel enemies through a v-shaped sloping space with Thermopylae-like efficiency. The broken semi-circle of stone wall at the base of the Courtyard was just one of the obstacles set to break down enemy lines. At the top of the slope lay the broad steps that diagonal-ed in to the raised stone corridor and archway.  It made the Gatekeeper's job slightly easier when he was in the Courtyard alone. 

Taking in the defensive architecture and stone now, Gazhena thought it all seemed absurdly primitive compared to what was coming.

The demons swarmed up the slope in their dozens. Their eyes were dark as obsidian, and hungry. Gazhena stepped further out from beneath the archway to get the scope of them. They caught sight of him, and he sensed their churning hatred as though he were swimming in it. Forty meters downhill from him, the leader locked eyes with him. Time froze. All Gazhena could see were black eyes and a broad grin, yawning ever wider to swallow him, to eat his will...

The Courtyard around him vanished, there was only a dark void of eyes and fangs, and Gazhena was tipping forward into it, falling into oblivion... How foolish to think he could stand alone against such an enemy. How incredibly stupid to conceive that the Outpost stood a chance against chaos, that a mere human could keep this kind of darkness at bay...

Gazhena bit his cheek hard and focused on the pain, that surge of red that flared in his mind.

By then, he knew their game too well to fall for it. The pain broke the trance, and the demon howled its dismay, knowing it had lost its hold. Gazhena could only sink deeper into his widened stance to stop his knees from shaking.

No time for fear, he told himself savagely.

Not if he wanted to live.

The stone walls on either side of him, the brick beneath his feet, all solid proof of where Gazhena stood. He knocked his fists together, the metal studs on his gloved knuckles thudding dully against each other. The demons were in the physical world now. They had tried and failed to break his will. Now, they would try to break his body.

At the foot of the broad stone steps, the demons were so close now that every detail of them was evident. They looked like human corpses, but there was a hazy quality to them, as though they were somewhere between solid and shadow. Their claws were long and sharp as rakes and their teeth were mottled yellow triangles in lipless mouths.

But it was the desperation in their eyes that Gazhena found the most disturbing.

The leader reached the bottom step, snarling as it raised its clawed hand, the demons amassing behind it. It prowled on the bottom step glaring up at Gazhena, waiting for an opening. Gazhena clenched and unclenched his fists, grinning a humourless grin back at it, waiting for-

Then it leapt up the steps in one bound to the archway-

-and Gazhena hit it, his fist connecting with its open jaw. There was a crunch and a flash of blue and the demon exploded in a cloud of dark essence.

A heartbeat of silence, of stunned calm, and then the rest of them came swarming up the steps. Gazhena stood rooted beneath the archway, instinct and training blending into something equally monstrous as he let them come to him, their numbers funneling in the bottleneck space. The electronite-imbued gloves glowed, treated to withstand immense pressure, fully activated in the presence of demons.

They roared, and Gazhena could only roar back, heaving punches through nightmarish forms, ducking swipes, blocking jaws that tried to clamp down on him. There was no time to think. With every one he destroyed came a mind-tearing shriek, piercing in the stone corridor. His ears rang with their sounds, and already his body was tiring, the adrenaline off-shooting into baggage he didn't need. A one-eyed demon grabbed his arm, so Gazhena pulled it towards him and slammed his forehead into its face. It let go. Gazhena pushed it into the path of one slashing wildly, and as it went down, he killed the one scrambling around it.

A slippery one clawed his leg, pain flaring crimson in his mind. Snarling, Gazhena drew his knife and stabbed down through its head before pistoning his boot into another reaching for him. It took three with it as it went off the steps, and Gazhena used the momentary lull to catch his breath, trying not to inhale the sulphurous essence they disintegrated into.

He ignored the pain in his leg and scanned over the demonic sprawl to the foot of the Courtyard. His heart sank. More were coming through the portals.

Any second now, Gazhena growled, wondering just when Ina's department would get the electronite shields back online. A surge would disintegrate the demons and take the openings along with it.

He didn't have time to wonder how they'd managed to invade.

A row of them attacked with ear-splitting screeches, open mouths champing, and Gazhena stomped on faces as they came up the steps. He narrowly avoided a swipe that tore a chunk out of the bear statue standing sentry beside the arch. The stone bear, now faceless, warned him to back deeper into the corridor. He did.

A heavyset one muscled its way through the others and swung. Gazhena barely had time to register glowing red eyes, and he raised a forearm instinctually-

The impact launched him sideways into the corridor wall. Breathless, he rolled beneath the follow-up swing and back-stepped to create space in the corridor.

Gazhena spat blood and wiggled a molar with his tongue, regarding the demons with renewed respect. His R&D bracer had absorbed most of that blow on his forearm, but that would have taken his head clean off if he'd been a fraction of a second slower. He made a mental note to thank Kyanai for his workmanship.

If you survive this, whispered an unwelcome voice in his mind.

The big one with red eyes smiled grotesquely, sensing his doubt, tasting it, and a ripple of glee moved through the ones on the steps behind it. Gazhena caught himself before that creeping dread could take hold. At the foot of the Courtyard, more tore through those shadow openings. He glared at the resurging mass of them. There was no commander that he could see, no leader signalling the attack.

It's not them, Gazhena realised. But then, who opened the portals-

His knife flashed out and the big one with red eyes' roar was cut off abruptly.

The randomness of the attack bothered him. Everything about that afternoon bothered him, but the chaotic nature of the invasion... Gazhena felt the first licks of paranoia and found himself wishing he had backup with him now, people he trusted. Sandra, with her sentinel's alertness and pragmatic mind, or Maheegun in his sturdy, quiet presence, both of them warriors in their own rights.

Even just a human voice talking in his ear, the way he'd had in his Hidden Order days...

The demons came closer, ugly smiles spreading as though they knew something he didn't.

Dammit, Ina, activate the auxiliary shield! Gazhena thought wildly. It struck him that the primary shield had already failed to block their entry in...

Three attacked simultaneously and Gazhena's knife blurred, their cries becoming gurgles as they fell. More took their place. He stared over their heads at the Courtyard's foot. Downhill, beyond the broken semi-circle, those black portals swirled dizzyingly.

Suddenly, Gazhena knew what he had to do.

You'll sacrifice the high ground and stone-corridor advantage, warned his doubts. Out from cover, they'll overwhelm you in an instant...

He grit his teeth. There was no choice. The sentinels' bullets were ill-effective against demons, and there was no telling what could still come through those openings.

He leapt off the steps and slashed in a wide arc without slowing. One with mottled grey hair clung to his side. Its jagged teeth got through his dark blue tactical jacket, but grated against the kevlar-mesh shirt beneath. Growling, Gazhena ripped his blade down and kept barreling down the slope, the demon's shriek making his ears ring. Halfway down, he faced a solid wall of them, their claws reaching, slicing...

He hesitated. There was no way through. Fool, he told himself savagely as they encircled him, closing in with evident glee. He was hopelessly outnumbered, and too far from the archway to turn back. More than anything, he didn't want to use... it. Pain flared in his back where he was raked and he almost went down. Still, he felt it scratching at a wall in his mind, somewhere deep down in the dark. Let me out... Claws descended on his head, and more came for his throat, and Gazhena caught the scabbed wrist before letting himself unbridle. Power surged through him and he roared.

For a moment, the Courtyard was filled with silence and an acrid black haze.

Gazhena swore softly as darkness swirled across his vision. Tapping into that side of him was suicide. If he used it again... Breathing heavily, he wiped a sheen of sweat from his face, and with some effort lifted his eyes to the battleground before him. There was a clear line to the semi-circle of stones at the base of the Courtyard, and beyond them, the portals hovered unguarded.

Gazhena actually grinned as he stumbled forward. Then his knees buckled and he face-planted, rolling the rest of the way down the slope. With his face in the dirt and his body feeling leaden, he wanted nothing more than to just lay there and close his eyes. A long breath in. An exhale. Repeat.

With an almighty effort, he got back up and staggered forward. Gazhena wiped his mouth, and his jacket sleeve came away sticky with pine needles and blood. The portals were less than twenty metres away. So close to them, he could appreciate a hypnotic beauty about them, the way they coalesced and spun, smooth as liquid satin, darker than midnight. Dimly he wondered where they lead, what the landscape on the other side was like. He shook his head. Some questions were better off without answers.

Summoning all his strength, he took a step closer and smiled. All things considered, the invasion could have been far more deadly. All he needed to do was destroy those doorways before anything-

Gazhena lurched into a sprint, sensing it before he saw it, but it was already falling through-

Chapter 3  Marduk

Brogan stared at the monitors in disbelief, his weapon hanging forgotten at his side. He couldn't make sense of it. Around him, Ina was punching commands into a keyboard, pulling up blueprints of the Courtyard's energy circuit lines, and Amelie had since returned and was barking orders into her headset. Like Brogan, her eyes were locked on the monitors, wide with the same horror he felt.

The demons, he had accepted. Well, been forced to accept. They existed. They... were. They were, and they were attacking through portals from who the hell knew where, and Gazhena was fighting them single-handedly. Brogan's mouth had dropped open when the Gatekeeper left the safety of the Corridor for some suicide dash down to... what, destroy those portals? Alone? He'd gotten himself surrounded, and Brogan had felt sick inside, sure that he was about to see a man get ripped apart, but then the Gatekeeper activated some kind of EMP because suddenly all the demons around him had disintegrated. Brogan watched him crumple, arriving in a heap at the bottom of the slope.

The control room had grown dead silent until Gazhena stirred and rose, and then technicians and sentinels  – Brogan had just noticed the others in the room – breathed a collective sigh of relief.

That guy's a machine, managed an acne ridden technician.

Or just really lucky, Amelie said huskily. Like Brogan, she looked like she was struggling to watch.

On the monitors, the Gatekeeper got his feet under him and began staggering doggedly for the portals, and it was too much for Brogan. The bodies of the sailors and commandos floating in the water swam across his vision once again, intrusive thoughts triggered by the chaos Brogan had just witnessed. He put a hand on Amelie's shoulder. We're going in there, he growled. Amelie's eyes flashed in agreement. With or without your say so, he added when Ina opened her mouth to protest. "After all, it's now my call."

Eventually, she nodded. Standby in the Gate corridor.

Brogan and Amelie turned to leave, casting one last glance at the monitors before freezing.

The feed showed Gazhena sprinting for the portals with a desperation that hadn't been there before. He stole between a broken semi-circle of stone, metres from the portals, before stopping abruptly.

What... the hell is that? Amelie whispered.

Something enormous had stepped through one of those black doors.

As if a switch had been flicked, the room was muted, the blue overhead lights rendering the Control Room with all its personnel momentarily frozen.

On the monitor, the Gatekeeper watched his enemy warily, his whole body seeming to sag beneath the weight of the giant he faced.

Finally, Brogan managed, Is that another demon?

Everyone stared between the monitors and Ina. She licked her lips, pushed her glasses back into place. That... would be the cause of this invasion, she said quietly. According to our intel, his name is Marduk.

It was then that Amelie's headset crackled. She hesitated before relaying the message. That was Kyanai. Two minutes and counting to auxiliary override.

Chapter 4  A Deadly Chess Game

It dropped into the Courtyard with a thud , thickset with black metallic armour. Humanoid, but with leathery moss-green skin. The Reptilian bored holes in Gazhena with deepset, murky red eyes.

Dammit, Gazhena thought, fighting to summon his strength as the Reptilian lumbered towards him. Demons spilled once again from the openings behind it, and Gazhena could only watch helplessly as the base of the Courtyard steadily filled.

The way they rallied around it finally told Gazhena all he needed to know about the invasion. The Reptilians must have contracted the demons to weaken the Outpost once they'd hacked in and shut down electronite shield.

You opened the portals, Gazhena said, noting how hollow his voice sounded.

The Reptilian nodded. And I killed the other one, he responded in an impossibly low rumble, the bass seeming to shake the ground.

Gazhena barely had the energy to grip his knife. If he could keep it talking, maybe he could buy needed time. Who did you kill? he asked, but he thought he already knew.

An ugly sneer twisted those moss-green features. You don't look like much. The previous Guardian at least didn't pretend he was a match.

With a start, Gazhena realised the Reptilian was talking about the previous Gatekeeper, Barda Grimmbow.

Do you know what I did to him? Did they even tell you? it asked. Conical fangs protruded from its peeled back lips, the Reptilian's approximation of a smile. An aura of chaos seeped off of it. He didn't look human when I was done with him. The Reptilian's smile faded. He didn't look much like anything when I was done with him.

Gazhena hadn't known Barda Grimmbow, but for the stories told to him by the other sentinels and Sahecha. An enigmatic, decorated figure who gave his life for the Outpost – and larger still, for the world who would never know of his sacrifice.

Marduk. That was this thing's name.

Gazhena knew by the sneer spreading across Marduk’s face that he would take pleasure in killing Gazhena - and then everyone else at the Outpost.

Marduk's lips peeled in scorn. Is this all Earth's Special Forces can muster?

Gazhena wasn't sure if it was the ground quaking with the Reptilian's voice, or just him.

I'm not Special Forces, he responded dumbly, but Marduk wasn't listening.

The Reptilian started running, dull thuds reverberating through the ground with each step. Gazhena could only cage his elbows over his head before-

Ooomph

He was suddenly airborne, and then came the inevitable crash-landing. Gazhena smacked into the slope, and all the breath and then some left his body on impact. He lay there momentarily paralysed, fighting just to breathe, desperately trying to get his body back online.

Either time had slowed down or Marduk was content to let him lie there and suffer awhile. Gazhena managed a rattling breath that hurt. He grimaced through the stabbing pain and took a good look at his enemy.  Up close, he could appreciate how massive the Reptilian really was – no enemy should be eight feet tall. His instincts screamed at him to get up and run. If he could, he might have, but his training compelled him to breathe, to slow the world down and use his adrenaline.

He took in the dirt he lay on. It was soft, damp from a recent rain. He sifted some through his fingers. The earth felt cool against his skin.

The Reptilian watched with a cruel smirk, supremely confident in his inevitable victory. Gazhena didn't like the way Marduk's eyes glittered. Like pools of blood. Behind him, the demons stirred restlessly, a pack of hyenas waiting for the signal from their alpha.

Gazhena brought himself into a sprinter's stance, lowering his eyes as he ran a troubleshoot of his injuries. Surreptitiously, he pressed his fingers against the kevlar mesh over his ribcage. His eyes watered.

One or two cracked ribs. Right then, he couldn't tell if it was any worse than that. He listened for the sound of footsteps behind him, for the sound of allies filing through the corridor to stand beside him, but he heard none. The sentinels had not arrived, and there was no guarantee they would before it was all over.

Probably for the best, some small, brave part of Gazhena whispered in his mind. At least then Marduk will be contained within the Courtyard. But if  Ina doesn't find a way to re-establish control of the Electronite shield...

Something caught Gazhena's eye lying in the ground before him. The Insurgent, with its double-edged black blade, had been his weapon of choice for stealth operations when he was a Hidden Order operative ten years before. He'd carried the knife ever since, and had it modified when he became Gatekeeper.

He reached out and took it, as if reclaiming some lost, vital aspect of himself. The familiar weight filled his grip, and when he rose to his feet, he levelled a freezing stare at the Reptilian.

If he was