Darksiders: Riders and Rogues (Book 2)

Chapter Eighteen Riders and Rogues

"See them yet?" Strife called to the Angel above him.

"No, nothing yet." Nicorus responded, lowering himself a little to be heard.

From his place in the air, he could see as far as the haze and clogged wind would allow. The small realm Death once called home was barren, void of life and thickly coated with sand and ash. One would think he'd become as much a recluse as the Crowfather at the time.
His actual house was a simple building that resided behind where the other Horsemen were currently stationed. Of course, its simplicity was deceiving as inside it housed the doorway to the Abomination Vault.

Apart from the towering sand dunes and the somewhat inconspicuous hut, all else Nicorus could currently see were Death's ghouls. They'd risen out of the ground after he and the others arrived, but hadn't attacked. Although some had hissed at the unfamiliar Angel, none of them pounced on the boy.
Now they either stood in anticipation or scuttled across the ash, eager for a fight.

"He's clearly been preparing for something like this..." War mused, not really expecting a response.

"I guess." Strife answered with a shrug. "But I was hoping for something more construct-size when I saw the first ghouls. But hey, he could have the Guardian buried in his backyard for all we know.".

War allowed himself a chuckle at that. The thought of the Makers' Guardian bursting out of the sand was partly amusing, the other, wishful thinking.

"If that's the case, why are we here then?" the hooded Horseman asked with what could be classed as a grin.

"To sit back and enjoy the show. Or," Strife paused as he lowered his wounded shoulder, not without repressing a hiss of pain and switched the pistol to his other hand.
"To go out with a bang.".

Nicorus had heard this last part. Although the thought had crossed his mind, the Angel hadn't pondered on it. But now it came back anew and demanded his full attention. There was the chance neither he or the others were getting out of this. But knowing that fact, Nicorus had gotten himself into this and swore to see it to the end.
He owed Carina that much. And more.

The ghouls furthest away from camp were the first to advance up the loose dunes of ash and sand. They'd sensed something the others had yet to see. Noticing them, Nicorus flew ahead, holding up an arm to shield his eyes against the littered wind. On he flew until his gaze fell on what Death's ghouls had sensed and were now fighting.

Demons.

Though there wasn't exactly a legion of them, there were still many to face. The Angel guessed it to be over a hundred, give or take. But these dregs weren't the main concern. Behind the small army, Nicorus could see Absalom, Draegan, Jake and who he took to be Samael.
With a sudden dread twisting his stomach, the Angel turned and bolted for their base; swooping low as he got close.

"They're here! Absalom and the others are coming with a score of Demons!" he explained in one breath.

The Horsemen exchanged glances, then nodded; War being first to speak.

"Then to arms. We make our stand here." he stated.

"We'll let the ghouls take out as many of their grunts as possible first. Then we attack." Fury injected.

"Right. But listen, if Draegan still has Black Mercy, he's practically untouchable. Someone sort that out, will ya?" Strife put in, the barrel of his own pistol clicking.

"I'll see what I can do." his sister answered, whip now uncoiled and in her grasp.

War had since unsheathed his sword and now flexed the hand inside his larger gauntlet.
Nicorus had subconsciously followed suit and now hovered with both daggers drawn.
By then, all of Death's ghouls had risen and advanced. Their enemies were closing in, that was for certain.