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Mackenzie Dean watched the Demons swarm about the compound with Once Men, tearing down what passed for walls, stripping it away like flesh.
When it fell, they entered, and he heard the screams of the defenders as they realized their lives were over, one way or another.
He held his Staff tight, fingers turning pale.
The Lady warned him of this, assigned him to prevent it.
But the people within wouldn't listen, called him a fool and a liar. They boasted of their defenses, of their strength to withstand any assault.
Now they died, the lucky ones did anyway.
For those unlucky enough to be captured, a short life in breeding pens under brutal conditions awaited, and once they've outlived that usefulness, they would quickly be dispatched by bullet or sword.
Taking a breath to compose himself Mackenzie turned away from the carnage and looked behind him at the vast western landscape of what used to be the United States of America, now nothing more than desert, turned almost inhospitable due to chemical warfare unleashed during the wars of the previous century.
A few settlements and compounds dotted the land, run by either Chieftains, councils, or in rare instances, Kings and Queens.
On the outside few wandered, only nomadic traders and those such as himself, Knights of the Word, tasked to wander what was left of the world and protect humans and other living things from the Demons who served the Void.
Heading down the slope overlooking the compound Mackenzie headed for his Ford pickup, a rusty red truck handed down since his grandfather's day, the last vehicle his family owned before the wars started.
It wasn't anything special, it was even surprising it still ran all things considered, but he wasn't a picky man, especially in such an unforgiving hell.
Opening the driver side door he got in, his body feeling like a bag of bones, lanky and useless. The screams of those in the compound continued to ring in his head.
He heard these screams many times in his service to the Word, cries of mercy ignored by the Once Men and Demons who preyed on the last remnants of humanity.
In his youth there were dozens of compounds in the West, all well fortified.
Now, as he stared down his forties the harsh truth was that humanity teetered on the brink of destruction in the Western regions. Demons and those they commanded, willing pawns and not, swept across the land, some in large packs, others in militia like bands, all desiring the extinction of man.
Turning the key, the old Ford roared to life, almost sounding like a monster awoken from a restless sleep, and Mackenzie pulled away from the hills.
Dust flew up, his old tires tearing into earth, the once paved highways now little more than cracks of cement here and there in stretches of open space.
The Lady, once it became clear he wouldn't be able to save the compound, ordered him to meet with one of her other servants, a man named Two Bears.
Native American, part of the Sinnissippi tribe, Two Bears, the Lady said, had been in her service the longest out of any other Knight, and thanks to this was her most trusted emissary.
They were to meet in a small village called Brownstone, a town thrown up alongside the Yellowstone river a hundred years ago, its residents descendants of refugees from the fall of Helena, Montana during the Second American Civil War.
Unlike most settlements Brownstone somehow managed to live free of worry of Once Men attacks, its people living peaceful lives. The downside was that they couldn't leave their area without the risk of bringing unwanted outsiders back, thus only a few handpicked trappers, traders, and hunters were permitted to venture out into the Wasteland.
Mackenzie had been everywhere one could go in the West but he never stopped in Brownstone in all those years. He heard it existed, but a settlement left untouched by the darkness?
He thought it just a fairytale told by desperate souls looking for some hope in a world without it, but here he was, driving towards that hope, real as could be after all.
Twelve hours in all were spent getting to Brownstone, he past several ghost towns along the way, husks of Old World houses, evidence of what once was when humanity hadn't been stupid enough to eradicate itself from half the planet.
Mackenzie could still remember his grandfather's stories that he learned from his own grandfather, a veteran of the Second Civil War and auto repairman. He told of days where people could watch others live through the internet, a wireless system built by men and women who believed it would propel civilization forward.
And indeed it had, for awhile at least, but, people, as is their wont, turned it into something it was never intended for. It became a weapon of war.
Misinformation, disinformation, illegal arms dealing, legal arms dealing, it all happened through the internet and other advanced tech of the last century. Communication via email and spyware, artificial intelligence, and so on combined to bring down the world's governments and societies.
Looking at the remains of that world made the Knight of the Word grimace. He never understood how people went so far, but, he reminded himself, it wasn't just human nature that did it, even if it was to blame for much of it.
Demons also had a hand, twisting and molding human desires to push them ever closer to their nuclear holocaust, to death.
Luckily, or perhaps unluckily depending on one's perspective, humanity endured the horrors and clung to life.
Turning off what was left of Montana's highway system Mackenzie headed into the wilderness, avoiding animal and vehicle carcasses as he went, until he reached Brownstone.
Much to his bemusement the town resembled a western era settlement, something he learned about from the few history books his grandfather managed to salvage from the pre war time.
The houses, made from wood nearby, were lined up neatly on both sides, facing each other in a deliberate plan of construction. Why the original settlers chose to do it this way Mackenzie wish he knew.
Stepping out of his Ford, cradling his Staff in his arm he made his way to the town when, from a top window from one of the buildings a female voice called out sharply for him to halt.
"OK, OK, I mean no harm."
He raised his hands.
"Who are you?"
"Mackenzie."
"Mackenzie who?"
He hated giving his full name.
"Mackenzie Donovan Carmichael Dean."
"Quite a mouthful."
"My mother insisted on keeping family names in the family. I mean you no harm miss."
"Tell me, Mackenzie Donovan Carmichael Dean, why're you here?"
She said his name like an accusation, already plainly telling him how they viewed outsiders, though he didn't really expect anything less.
"I'm here to meet a friend."
"Who?"
"O'olish Amaneh."
He used Two Bear's real name, what Two Bears itself translated from, and the one the Sinnissippi preferred so he heard.
"Who on God's green earth is that?"
"Like I said, a friend ma'am."
"Call me ma'am again and I'll blast a hole in your knee."
He sighed.
"OK miss, madam, lady, whatever you wanna be called. I'm here to see O'olish Amaneh. He is a Native American man, a friend of mine as I said. We made plans to meet up in Brownstone, he said he knew the place."
That little white lie went down smoothly.
"No Native man lives here, or been here that I know of."
"Just please see if he's here. If he's not I will get back in my truck and drive off. You'll never see me again."
After several 'ughs' and 'hmms' from the woman she slipped away. Twenty minutes later she came back.
"He's here."
"May I come in?"
"You can. On the condition you refrain from violence while here. If you break this rule, depending on the severity, there may be harsh punishment."
"I understand."
With this permission Mackenzie walked into Brownstone, meeting the woman when he reached the house she occupied.
Camo pants, grey t-shirt, black hair tied in a bun, rifle in hand. She looked to be no more than twenty five, twenty six at most. Latina if he had to guess.
"Judge said to guide you to the bar where your friend is."
"Judge?"
"Judge Carson. The leading council member."
"I see. You know my name, but I never got yours."
"Liza O'Neil."
"O'Neil?"
"Not every person in the Old World stayed in their respective countries eh? Some Irish people went to Spain. C'mon, this way."
Mackenzie liked her attitude, it reminded him of Kate and how she used to be, sarcastic and sassy.
He missed her.
Following Liza down the street he saw residents giving him wary glances, some even downright hostile. Nothing unexpected.
All looked to be in peak health, well cared for, and generally without stress. The tales he heard years before seemed to be true.
"Nice town."
He said,
"Better than outside."
"Thank the people for that,"
Liza turned to face him, walking backwards,
"We've put our blood and tears into making this town functional and self sustaining. Our great grandparents left us a project to believe in."
"Are you one of the providers?"
He believed she was immediately just by the way she acted as a guard. Confident, assertive, someone dependable. It wasn't hard to believe she was one of the people allowed in the outside world.
"How'd you guess?"
"Almost getting blasted in the knee changes people."
"Doesn't fix their lack of a sense of humour."
Mackenzie laughed. She got him there.
The Brownstone bar, a two storey building placed on the end of town, just like in a classic western setting, looked blood red, its wood reddish brown and the sun's light made it stand out more.
Liza jumped up the steps and swung around, her rifle resting on a shoulder.
"Here you are. Jensen inside will get you a drink or a meal. Welcome to Brownstone Mackenzie Donovan Carmichael Dean, we're glad to have you."
Liza grinned at him and leapt off the bar step, striding back to her post.
Watching her go, Mackenzie shook his head. She was just like Kate in temperament and character.
The Knight walked into the bar as unassuming as he could, drawing eyes all the same. He never expected to be welcomed but some of the stares veered on murderous.
"Can I help you?"
Mackenzie's gaze focused on the bar stand where a black man with a crew cut stood, expression impassive.
Jensen, he figured. He nodded, heading over.
"I'd like a drink."
"What kind?"
"Scotch."
"A classic brand."
"One of the few that survived the wars."
Mackenzie grinned sliding onto a stool, resting his Staff on the maple wood.
Jensen dipped underneath the counter, snatched up a bottle, and placed it down before him complete with a glass.
"Name's Jensen Hill."
The bartender said pouring the drink.
"You just come in outta the Wasteland?"
"Yup."
The Knight knocked back the alcohol in one go, letting the bitter taste splash down his throat.
"Drove for hours. Wasn't sure if I'd be allowed in, but I proved myself to Liza and she let me in."
"What made you come here? Most don't even believe it exists."
"To be honest, I was among those who didn't until a few days ago. Looking for a friend who said he'd be here."
The bartender pointed behind him to a table in the middle of the bar where a man sat by himself nursing a cup of water.
Medium brown skin, long black hair braided, with military fatigues, all making him stand out from the folk of Brownstone.
"That's him."
Mackenzie said confidently, though he had no idea if it was or not.
"Thanks for the drink."
He slapped three dollars down and walked over to the table, the Native American man looking up quizzically once he reached it.
"O'olish Amaneh?"
The man smiled, nodding his head and gesturing to the chair opposite.
"Sit, Mackenzie."
Doing as instructed he set the Staff to rest and waited. Two Bears sipped on his water some more, his face betraying a hint of his mind turning. He searched for the words to explain The Lady's task.
"The Lady's fond of you."
He said finally.
"She believes you are a loyal and dedicated servant."
"I'm touched."
He was. The Word's Cause gave him purpose, a goal to work towards. Without it he'd be just another militia member or worse, perhaps even a Once Man, losing his humanity to the Void.
After Kate's death....He never recovered.
"It is why she chose you for the task ahead. She wishes you to defend this place from Demons."
"Demons? But the town is protected?"
"Its fading. Soon Once Men will appear on its edges. The Lady has shown me."
The Knight of the Word looked about at his fellow patrons, all blissfully unaware of the danger Two Bears spoke of. Should they learn of it, he suspected, chaos would ensue, leaving the town open to attack and, in all likelihood, destruction.
"What's causing it to fade?"
"Natural erosion. Nothing lasts forever."
"What should I do?"
"That I cannot tell you. You need to find a way to protect the town, however you do so is up to you. The Lady trusts you to make the right decision."
Mackenzie swallowed, this weight not one he wished to bear nor did he know how to bear it gracefully which, in his mind, meant keeping everyone alive.
His daily life as a Knight in this shattered world was hard enough to navigate, but this? The protection of an entire town thrust at him on such short notice?
Either The Lady knew something about him that he himself didn't know or, he feared, her faith in him was misplaced.
"That woman you talked with on the way in,"
Two Bears interrupted his thoughts,
"She may be able to help."
"How did you know about her?"
The Indian smiled.
"She's a capable fighter. Keep her close in the battle ahead, if you deem it necessary."
Two Bears finished his water and rose.
"I wish you well and good fortune, Mackenzie Dean. You carry the Staff with honour and integrity, values near extinction in a world such as this."
He held out his hand and Mackenzie shook it, surprised at how strong, firm, and solid his grip was.
"Until we meet again O'lish Amaneh."
"Until we meet again."
With those parting words the messenger departed, leaving the Knight with more questions and problems than answers.
Mackenzie ordered another shot of whisky and knocked it back, his doubts growing.
Leaving the saloon the Knight of the Word walked about the town streets looking over its buildings, noting every point of them, every angle, believing he'd need to know this in order to defend the town adequately.
After Two Bears left he sat at the table for well over thirty minutes, mind reeling at the thought he needed to convince the entire town to believe him.
Of course, there was the dark thought he could just let the Demons and Once Men appear and as they threatened he would attack.
That thought quickly found its way out of his head. The safety of the town was his main priority, allowing the enemy to even approach the area without warning to the people was a breech of his duties as a servant of the Word.
As he walked along the streets he took his eyes off the dusty road and saw Liza O'Neil in one of the windows on the opposite side of the street looking down at him, a smirk on her face.
"Stumbling around like a lost puppy I see."
"Just minding my own business mis."
"You drank too much didn't you?"
Mackenzie shook his head, a hand rubbing his neck.
"No. I'm not much of a drinker."
"Did you and your friend have a good time?"
"Yup."
Mackenzie wasn't in any mood to speak with anyone, let alone people he didn't know. He kept his eyes away from the girl's direction, hoping she might get the hint on her own.
"How long have you been carrying that Staff?"
"A long time."
"How'd you come by it?"
He shrugged, looking down at the rocks by his feet.
"Given it by a woman who took an interest in me."
Of course the Lady wasn't just a mortal woman, but Liza didn't need to know that.
"A former lover gave you an engraved Staff? I'm not one to judge but.....strange gift."
He couldn't help but chuckle a bit.
"Strange indeed. If I-----"
An unworldly screech came from outside of town, followed by growls and cackling. Mackenzie gripped the Staff hard, knowing what it meant. There was no time to rally the town. He needed to act now.
"What was that?"
Liza asked turning to where the sound came from.
"Demons and Once Men."
The Knight of the Word said gravely, starting his march to the gate, determined to fulfill his task and save every soul in town.
"Demons? Hey! Where're you going?"
"Stay inside Miss O'Neil, do not follow me."
"What are you talking about?"
Mackenzie didn't answer, keeping his focus on the task at hand. Heading out of the town, the Knight passed his truck and stood sentinel, waiting.
He didn't wait long.
Dozens of Once Men rushed down from the plains, their faces long ago obscured by insanity, scarred beyond recognition of who they once had been.
Mackenzie brought up his Staff and slammed it down into the earth, bright white Magic coming to life shooting across the ground cutting into the horde and leaving them in pieces.
More came, hollow eyed and feral. He dealt with them in the same manner, Magic flowing freely now, coming as naturally to him as breathing.
Soon thirty odd bodies lay scattered across the ground, broken and lifeless husks. Mackenzie scanned his handywork and, much to his dismay, took a grim pleasure in it.
After all, these weren't humans anymore were they? They were mindless drones loyal only to their instincts and their Demonic masters.
Speaking of which.....
A lanky woman, taller than naturally possible, appeared on the highway looking down at him. Her neck creaked as she studied him.
She spoke in a strange, almost cat like voice, but he couldn't understand what she said. This didn't seem to faze her, the Demon leaping off the asphalt and landing, just like a cat, on all fours below.
Mackenzie watched as she moved closer, stepping over the bodies of her minions, giving them no more thought than she would roadside trash.
He placed the tip of the Staff on the ground, tracing a line in the dirt, taking great care to get it right. When he finished a flash of white light shot out from the line, forming a shield about him.
The Demon laughed, speaking in her odd tongue again pointing at the shield. Asking, he assumed, if he thought such a puny thing could protect him.
"Come and find out."
He said.
Fighting Demons, while not foreign to him, wasn't a frequent worry, thank God, but when he did cross paths with one he always wondered if it would be his last battle. Demons made formidable enemies, he never wanted to underestimate them.
The woman advanced, moving on all fours with such speed it took his breath away. She lunged at the shield claws slashing at the energy in clean cuts.
As fast as they appeared the marks faded, shield undamaged. She growled, a tiger's growl, low and menacing. Mackenzie clenched his teeth, a tinge of fear running down his body. Cold and primal.
The Demon continued the assault, slashing and tearing at the Magical shield, every blow being absorbed by it, and soon she exhausted herself.
Then he struck.
In a powerful blast of Magic Mackenzie sent her flying backward into a pile of Once Men, his Staff's runes glowing brightly as he made his way to her, intent on crushing her skull.
The Demon groaned as she pushed herself up, blood gushing from her nose, crooked now. She hissed at him, a noisy sound. He kept coming.
She scrambled to her feet leaping back more, keeping distance between them. Mackenzie grinned and swept up his Staff again, cracking it down on the earth, white veins arcing towards the Demon.
Dodging the attack she came at him again, faster, claws out to rend his flesh. The Knight of the Word met her head on, kicking her in the gut, driving it as hard as he could. She gasped, falling face first.
Mackenzie struck down, his Staff's Magic pulsating as it touched her back, spreading like a virus across her corrupted body. She howled, tried fighting him off, but a swift kick to her face ended that.
With a final cry she crumbled to dust, her bat winged soul trying to escape her destroyed shell, the Knight making short work of it.
He waited for ten minutes after killing the Demon, making sure the threat was defeated. When he was certain it was Mackenzie headed back to his truck.
Reaching it he looked over the town, wishing he could do more to protect it against the outside world. He spotted Liza in the building she used to keep watch, he wondered if she saw it all.
"Leaving?"
She asked.
"I think so. Nothing here for me."
She waved, and he returned it, opening up his driver side door to get in-----
He stopped, remembering a spell.
Closing the door abruptly Mackenzie approached the entrance to Brownstone and took up his Staff, pointing at Liza with a finger.
"I'm going to place protection Magic on the town,"
He said, not caring how she took it,
"It won't last long, three years at most, but it'll give you enough time to prepare yourselves for what's on the outside."
She said something but he didn't hear what, his Magic crackling in his ears as he swung the Staff about, tracing and drawing invisible symbols on the ground and across buildings, draining his power.
By the end of the ritual he felt empty, almost as if by releasing so much Magic his soul itself was depleted. He steadied himself with his Staff, taking a big breath in.
"You'll be safe now."
He told her, wiping sweat from his cheeks.
"What are you?"
A normal question after seeing what she just did, but Mackenzie was in no mood to explain.
"Take care of yourself Liza. I wish you all the best."
Turning away from Brownstone the Knight of the Word got into his Ford, started the ignition, and pulled out, backing up over the bodies as he did.
Once over them he headed for the highway, unsure where to go next, but trusting in The Lady and the Word's Magic to guide him.