Plague of Angels (33 page)

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 alike, 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.

The rest of the men, knowing that all hope was gone, wheeled their horses away, then once more charged into the line of knights, screaming “
Allahu Akbar!
” – more a prayer than a battle cry – as one by one they died to slow the crusaders’ advance.

On both sides of the wall, there was silence.

On the top of the wall, the last of the archers had fallen under the rain of deadly arrows from the angels, and the last cries of agony had faded.

From the far side of the wall, there was only silence. The tramping sounds of thousands of feet had stopped. There were no war cries, no sound of armor and weapons and shield clashing against one another. No whinny of horses or talking of men.

In the street before the gate, Jibril could hear the men around him breathing. The mass of heavily-armored infantry stood ready, their long-bladed spears pointing at the gate.

The gate shook once, a gentle rattle, as if someone was pushing on it.

For the first time in two hours, Jibril stopped praying.

The gate exploded inward, shards of wood and steel flying through the air and piercing flesh whenever it found it. A few men cried in pain, and one fell, a length of wood like a knife protruding from his throat, but the rest stayed where they were, spears ready.

The dust cleared, and in the arch of the broken gate, the demon stood, clothed head to foot in black armor that hid nothing of her body, sword and whip in her hands, and a grin on her face.

Some men broke ranks, running away. Jibril did not spare them a moment’s thought. Fear clawed at him, too, threatening to overwhelm him. He had no doubt most of his men felt the same way.

At the north gate, he knew, his wives and children were running for their lives out into the harsh desert around the city, surrounded by as many guards as he could spare to help them stay alive.

I will not fail them.

“Loose!” screamed Jibril, and arrows shot out from the windows and roofs of the buildings near the wall, flying straight at the demon. She ignored them, strode forward a few steps and surveyed the men before her.

Nyx’s Aramaic was flawless. “I look forward watching you all die,” she said.

Black wings snapped open and Nyx flew up into the sky faster than any arrow could go. From beyond the wall, “
Tribunal and Nyx! Honor and glory!
” erupted from thousands of throats, and the crusaders charged in through the broken gates.

There was no hope of stopping them, Jibril knew as he and his men bore the brunt of the first wave. There were too many of them. Even as they died, impaled on the spears of Jibril’s men, thousands more pushed forward through the gate, driving the defenders back step by slow step, through sheer mass.

We will hold them,
thought Jibril, judging the pace at which they were being forced back.
We will hold them long enough to let the women and children escape.

“For God and Jerusalem!” Jibril shouted.
“Allahu Akbar!”

His men echoed the cry and, despite the overwhelming numbers, began pushing forward again.

If we can drive them back to the gate,
we can hold them off a few hours more.

A rush of wind, a scream of joy that tore through Jibril’s ears, and suddenly Nyx was there, flying
through
the formation of men, her sword and whip killing and maiming those around her as the sheer force of her movement knocked the defenders aside and broke their line. The crusaders cheered and surged forward. Jibril shouted and struggled to bring his men back together, retreating before the onslaught of the crusading army and Nyx’s continuous attacks from above.

Jerusalem held out for five hours.

Jabril and the other captains fought a thousand rear-guard battles, in streets and alleys, in homes and mosques and temples. But every time they sought to rally their troops, Nyx and Persephone and Ishtar were there, raining death from above with their arrows, with their swords, with their talons and teeth and the spikes on their heels. Behind them, the crusaders pressed forward, charging into every street in the city as the defenders fell back, invading the buildings and slaughtering whomever they found.